A timeless story.

I’d like to begin with this:

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an off-hand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then the one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun

And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but it’s sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in a relative way, but you’re older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death

Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone the song is over, thought I’d something more to say

I’ve been wanting to write something about ‘time’ since times immortal. But then, time happens to be a very complicated subject to talk about; for me, cause its bundled up with nostalgia. Now nostalgia as we all know can be pleasant sometimes and disturbing on other occasions. I choose not to experiment with luck these days and I’m trying to avoid unnecessary thoughts. Especially since its nearing the 14Th of February. Hrmphh, guess I’ll surely come up with something by then cause I’m celebrating one year of worry less life on that date. A year of life after the shackles were broken, a year since I began sleeping peacefully and a year since love ended. Or so I want to believe. Couple of days more! Wow, now that’s an accomplishment and come to think of it now, god damn! Its a year since the misery (mine and her) ended. Well, more on that later.

For now, I was pondering about how much time I’ve wasted and its true what they say, time and tide, once gone never return! I’ve wasted a lot of my time doing things I should have avoided. Its pointless cursing myself now but then I’m going to take up this opportunity to remind myself of how big an imbecile I am to have whistled away those many hours, those precious seconds. I should have been utilizing the nanoseconds god gave me by doing something worthwhile. Its during times of self-inspection like these that I realize that I haven’t respected time and thereby I haven’t been fair towards my Karma or my purpose in life. I was certainly not made for loitering around malls buying random stuff that I may or may not need, sometimes for someone else who in the end was all geared up to crush my heart!

Now, you’ll would probably wonder about why I’ve suddenly come to this moral epiphany. Its more than just a divine manifestation of thoughts in my head giving birth to these rather sad feelings in my heart. This is me looking into what I’ve done thus far with my life and a retrospective self-justification to myself. A feeble attempt at telling myself to step up and grab life by its crotch! Sadly, I guess I’m just a fat fuck lost in melancholy. I dug deeper into the time I’ve lived thus far hoping to find a story worth telling. A story that’s devoid of variations caused by my will to shine. I went quickly past my work life and the part of my life that I’d like to forget the most – college. Arghhh, that was horrid! Except of course for Prab. Prab is an amazing person and I’m sure he’ll be there with my for the rest of my life as my only gain from the limited time I spent in college. I had to track back right up to grade 4 when I was a stupid kid who knew nothing but Malayalam. A kid trying to even it out with the many bright kids that plagued his classroom. This happened to me and this incident makes me feel like I’m alive – even today! I can nearly feel the worry of a little boy. I can feel his apprehension and I can still heave the same sigh of relief that I did 16 years ago. It was all about a pencil…

Satya was this awesome sport man who was loved by all. He was a teachers pet cause he looked cute and I guess the girls dug him right from then. We were supposed to use pencils when working on our ‘classwork’ books so that we don’t ruin it. Later on, once the teacher checks it we’d get to re-write it in the fair copy with a pen. Or if I remember right that happened after the 5Th grade when pens came into picture. Fountain pens mind you. Ball pens were taboo! Heh, silly things like thee make me want to go right back in time and be seated next to one of my classmates. Those pesky, rather nasty beings who had everything but love for a fellow who hadn’t studied for his exams. They’d try their level best to cover up what they wrote on their answer papers. Copying was for the scum of the class, the last benchers. I’ve strayed away… precisely what happens when I write about events close to my heart.

So, yes, Satya. Satya had this beautiful red pencil which he had acquired from someone who had recently returned from ‘abroad’. Abroad here implies a place outside of our knowing. It could be the US of A or it could be the street next to my house that I don’t know of. This pencil; it was the object of envy for me from the day I saw him draw lines with it in his geometry book. I wanted it so bad that I stared at it and hoped that it’d hear my plea and come running to me. Satya could never negate the pencils will! It wanted to come to me, so it did. My concentrated efforts led to nothing but scornful looks from Satya. Probably wondering about why I had my eyes set on his amazing pencil box. Ohh, if I did not mention it, he had a double decker pencil box where he could neatly stack up pencils, scales, rubbers (as we called it then and I dare not refer to an eraser as a rubber now. Heh, we’ve ruined English) and everything else that he could own and did not want to share. I had the old scratchy camlin geometry box that I hated since the time I saw his box. On this specific (but lucky day I might add) he was seated next to Vinod B, an Einstein in the making. I had gone through my ritual of staring at all the cool stuff these cool kids had and gotten back to being my unappreciative self. I was at that point in time cursing dad for not buying me new white shoes. As I cursed on, I heard something fall, ever so gently; as if it was meant only for my ears and then I saw it roll over to my feet; as if it was meant for me! I was filled with incessant joy. It was the pencil. The red pencil I so wanted. It even had a red conical ending to its top portion from where the lead began. I caught a glimpse of Satya and Vinod talking and I hoped that neither of them noticed what I was up to. I slowly slid the pencil under my feet and began gleefully talking to my partner. The bell rang, the kids got up and made a run for it. They all just wanted to go home. I had pocketed the pencil by this time and had rushed out with the rest of my peers. I just wanted to get the hell outta school and rush home. I’d hide it away and shower it with all my love I thought.

The next day was Friday and I was destined to be stupid that day. The first bell rang and we sang the national anthem and settled down with class work. Here is where I extracted the red beauty which was neatly hidden in my camlin box which looked as though it had survived brutal carnage. I began writing away with it. The text I wrote appeared so beautiful that I was lost in its beauty. By this time Satya probably noticed that he was missing his awesome pencil and had begun freaking out. He turned around and caught a glimpse of me with his pencil. Here he went, “Hey, that’s mine!” and I go all crooked eyed and sly. “What? No, this is mine. Uncle got it for me from Dubai” Uhhh, alright, I had no one in the US of A then, OK? “But mine looked exactly like that and I don’t have it anymore” he said looking all perplexed and slightly embarrassed at being unable to differentiate between his pencil and mine. We spoke about it for a while and he seemed to carry on with his work. Crisis averted I thought and continued on my gleeful journey with the red stick of lead. The period after lunch arrived and here we had our class teacher, Mrs. Shirke walk in. We quickly finished our after-lunch prayer and settled down for a boring class. After lunch classes usually meant a lot of snoring, boring, farting and cranky kids. Mrs. Shirke was talking to Satya and I noticed her turned towards the class unhappy about our dishonesty. I chose my lie to be our collective failure. I just decided to ignore what was going on and continued yapping with my partner. Here Mrs. Shirke shrieked, “Anup!!! Stand up…” I stood up with a sheepish grin. “What are you smiling about?’ she questioned. “Nothing miss” I said meekly trying to avoid eye contact. “Ok, you come here now” she said. i walked up and stood next to Satya. Here she began questioning me:

Miss: Have you taken Satya’s pencil? The red one?
Me: Me? No miss, I have only one red pencil and I bought it from Mayur shop near my house.
Satya: Haaaa… miss, he’s lying. Yesterday he told me that his uncle bought it for him from Dubai!!!
Me: Noooooooo miss… I bought it from Mayur.
Miss: Ok Anup, you buy the same pencil for Satya and he’ll give you the money. He’s lost his pencil.
Me: Ok miss.
Satya: How much money?
Me: 10 rupees (that was the largest amount I could think of then)
Miss: Now go to your seats both of you stupid boys.

Satya looked disgusted cause he knew I was lying and he quietly went over to his seat and sat down. Here on I experienced a surge of guilt and remorse and it was nothing like what I had ever felt. I was sad and lost throughout the weekend not knowing what to do. I couldn’t’t talk about this to my parents or anyone else for that matter cause I had stolen what was rightfully someone else’s. I had broken all the values my parents and my school had taught me. I did try to justify myself once in a while. I did not steal it, you know? It just rolled into my pencil back, didn’t it? I spent Sunday trying desperately to find a pencil like that in Mayur. I remembered dad telling one of his friends, “Mayur is a good general store, avide ammem pengalem oyichu ellam kittum” translated – You get everything except a mom and a sister. Mayur wala also couldn’t help me. I was lost and could not find sleep. I even tried avoiding school on Monday but mom was mighty smart; she ducked under my lie and sent me packing.

As I sat on my desk expecting the worst to happen, I could hear the kids call me all kinds of names. Chor, chortya, dhaprya. These are all variations of the word ‘thief’ I was expecting the worst. First period, prayer done. I prayed hard this time. Mrs. Shirke looks at us sternly and begins teaching. I could feel the seconds go by in milliseconds. I thought she’d take this matter up after the class ended. To my amazement, neither she nor did Satya come up with this unsolved case. Then the next period slipped by and then another. I couldn’t eat and I wasn’t able to be my usual self. Slowly but surely the day went by and I couldn’t believe my luck. They actually forgot. The entire class of 40+kids and the teacher forgot about it in over two days. What kinda luck god did I pray to? I hid the pencil away and never bought it to school after that. The days slipped by and no one ever spoke about the pencil. I don’t have the pencil anymore, but I have its memory and I can still remember how it looked in my hands. Someone else’s prized possession. It looked sad and stolen. I’d never forget those few weeks. I spoke with Satya recently and told him about what had happened then. He was completely blank about this ever happening. I sometimes wonder if Mrs. Shirke and he let it go on purpose. Just cause they were angels in disguise. I was a lovely kid. I never stole after that.

Aha! I feel refreshingly awesome now. Even though its 2:30 AM and I have had a rough day at work. its memories like these that keep me going. For all the time I’ve wasted, its memories like these which seem to make up! Thanks Satya.

-Anup

Good night…

Romantic books and movies have engulfed me off late and I’ve been reading extensively on a subject thats delicate and something that brings me very close to creativity and words – love. Its 12:45 AM and I’m about to crash. The sandmans here but I’ve kept him waiting cause I needed to write this down.

To my dear dearest,

As night falls,
And yet again,
As sleep calls,
I hope;
With you I be…
In all the dreams I see.

Good night.

-Anup

Raw cut, served fresh – Anup Menon

I was being paranoid the whole day today about how I don’t take care of myself and about how that lands me in trouble. I ate at the new office canteen yesterday and thats where I caught this violent intestinal regurgitation; following which the undigested contents of my experiment with fate yesterday were forcibly expelled. Out of my mouth, mind you. Disgusting! I suffered from food poisoning and I’ve promised to never eat at work again. So while I was taking care of myself and as I watched Yuvraj and Sehwag thrash the Sri Lankans, I found this notepad where I had randomly written stuff about myself.

Now, I’m probably obsessing about myself here, but then, what the hell? This is my place. Here goes:

  • My name is Anup S Menon, S for Sasidharan, thats my dads name and he is my Idol.
  • My family includes and is limited to: My dad (Sasi Menon), My mom (Usha S Menon), younger sister (Sneha S Menon) and me!
  • I have loads of cousins and I’ve other family spread across everywhere; Kerala, Bangalore and the US of A!
  • I wouldn’t say that I love them, but I surely think about them once in a while. I like it when I speak to them.
  • I spent my entire life (upto around 4 months ago) in Pune, Maharashtra.
  • I did my schooling from Kamal Nayan Bajaj High school a convent in Pune.
  • I loved my school and everything about it and thats a section of my life that I’d never forget.
  • I used to have loads of friends there and I’ll never forget them. I get nostalgic once in a while and I miss them all a lot!
  • I still have some friends from school who keep in touch, some courtesy orkut.
  • I did my Junior college and my Bachelors from D.Y.Patil college, Pimpri, Pune.
  • I never liked my college and I hardly ever attended classes.
  • During the times I bunked college, I used to frequent cyber cafes and chat on the IRc network – DALnet.
  • I learned a lot of stuff during those times, cool things like, Linux, Windows, servers, clients and so on.
  • Thats where my fascination for computers began and its never ended, I still make my living off these machines.
  • I loathe the people of my college and whatever it is that they did for girls and cheap thrills.
  • I sincerely hated the porn they drew on the college desks and the dirty cheap talk they did, apparently, to impress girls! I mean, what?
  • I failed all of my dads dreams about me, when it came to educating myself, I was a failure.
  • My dad wanted me to be an Engineer, huh; isn’t that a cliche? Every dad wants his son to be an Engineer or a doctor these days.
  • I seriously never wanted to slog or fight a losing battle with those huge books cause I always knew that they weren’t my friends.
  • I managed to graduate myself somehow and trust me, I have no clue of how I did it.
  • I began working at the age of 20, Argo Tech, Pune.
  • I was not particularly happy with the fact that I was a prodigal son and my dad was awesome; he helped me throughout. Never left my hand.
  • Mom looked up the newspapers for me and found for me a place that’d decide my future – Convergys.
  • Convergys gave me everything from information to wealth, from friends to a girl friend.
  • I worked there for 2 years, 7 months and 3 days. I loved the place then and I love the place now. I still miss it very much.
  • A few of my assets from there – Abhijit, Manoj, Sanket, Smita, Smikh & Muiz.
  • I lost a couple of them to love and I feel sad that I’d miss them for all my life, but I guess thats how the world works.
  • A few of them have stood by and are my closest friends to date.
  • Thus, Convergys, I must say has been a place thats given me loads.
  • I learnt what I know now all because of it and I’m well placed now at HP, because of it. Thanks a lot!
  • Continuing from there, I got a pretty nice job with HP, Bangalore and thats where I am as of now.
  • My life is currently a cycle of cliches and I feel ok about it.
  • I find those cliches to be better than unexpected shocks, know what I mean?
  • I am proud to say that I have madly loved and lost! Some say its better than to have never loved at all.
  • She has given me memories that I’d never forget and I’m thankful for it.
  • She has taught me lessons that I’d always remember and I’d use them to better myself.
  • Friends are people I’ve always lacked, but I’m thankful for the handful I have as of now.
  • These few, I can say are really MY friends. I’ve managed to differentiate between the hypocrites and the good ones. Ohh, thanks again to love.
  • I own a car – A Maruti Swift and I’m super happy that I own it cause it makes my life much easier.
  • I live in a rented flat very close to my Uncle; thus I’m well fed and I maintain my weight.
  • I’m plumpily plump; which means I’m very plump.
  • My sister says that my height seems to cover for it, but no! I feel I’m fat cause I FEEL fat.
  • Thats one of my resolutions for this year and I’ll work hard over it.
  • I love rock music and my favourite bands include, Staind, Poets of the Fall, Daughtry, Pink Floyd and a few others.
  • I love movies and I can be a buff once in a while, where I watch one move at 10 AM, one at 12:35 PM, one at 4:00PM and the last at 10:00 PM, all on the same day, ohh yeah, I can do that. To top it off, I’d be alone when I do this.
  • I read as and when I can and I love reading, just that I haven’t had time off late. +favs: All of Dan Brown, Most of Paulo Coelho, Chetan Bhagat and I really liked The Kite Runner.
  • Writing is one of my passions and I seem to derive immense pleasure when I get the right flow. I can write for hours listening the same song over and over again for hours if I get the right subject. Most of what I write is personal though and I really feel the need to move into greener lands and reach out to people.
  • I’m an Agnostic, but I respect people who believe in what they want to.
  • I have myopia and its at an all time high of -5.75 R -5.00 L and it sucks that I’m practically blind when I take off the glasses.
  • Sometimes I feel like I suffer from OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). I feel like repeating what I do till the time I’m perfect.
  • I overexpect from people and I’ve been treated for that recently.
  • I’m a vegeterian.
  • I’m happy whenever I can be.
  • I’ve been accused of being a sexist; but the truth is… I’m too much in love with the fairer sex and I just can’t hate them!
  • I do not drink (consume alcohol) or smoke (tobacco, weed and its brothers and sisters)
  • Finally, the only reason I feel sorry; is for hurting my parents.
  • If you’d read me someday dad – please know that I am trying hard. I’ve just been stupid!
  • Also, I’m still not sure about the person I am; is it wrong if you’re a soft hearted guy? A guy who’d cry? Someone who’d be hurt easily? I loved myself more when I was in love and I’d miss the emotion forever.
  • To end this, hey you, yes you; if you’re reading me; thanks for everything!

-Anup

No strings attached.

I learnt all of a sudden and as an unwanted revelation that I live amongst people who have no strings attached. They aren’t attached to anyone who are not their own. Greedy and selfish all the more, these people plague my life. Most of the people I meet have words which they vomit like it’s an involuntary push in them. Most of the words they use are words which have no meaning and even if they have sense attached to it; it turns out to be information you cannot trust. Actions, as I believe happen to be an aftermath of words already used and thought off. Words, as we all know are like bullets; once fired, you cannot regain control of them. Most of the people I know happen to be ignorant about what they say, including me; I’d say. I have had so many occasions where my seniors and people I trust have walked up to me and corrected me. Told me that I’ve been wrong on these occasions and that I must change the way I react to my environment.

Something out of nothing:

People, busy and running after more time…
Days, months and years aren’t enough they say,
They need more to earn their dime.
Loveless and without a heart,
We continue pulling our square wheeled cart.

There seems to be no hope,
Cause all I see is people cry;
As per them, money and time are to elope!
I try to run away sometimes,
Where are my people with whome I’d give a try?
They’re all stuck up within time’s crimes.

So I pull myself out of the wreckage,
Scarred but alive, hurt but I survive.
I’m surrounded by this apocalyptic wasteland,
And here’s where I meet people who, for love are parched,
But are brave enough to say, “Hey! No strings attached.”

No strings attached. This was a statement someone used a while back. It’s a statement that shakes me out of my veins because of the complexity involved. I believe, as per the way I’ve lived that there are strings that connect to me and from me to the people around me. Those I call friends and family. That’s the way I talk to myself and make-believe that I’m really alive. I like the strings and I need them desperately. How odd is it that some people do not have any strings attached. Sentiments and emotions are nothing more than clichéd remade fables which they hate, experiences that happen to them every day and something that they choose to ignore with a certain amount of pleasure.

I hate myself for being emotionally overshadowed by people who don’t care. I know it very well that they don’t mean much when they say the things they do. They don’t care much about how I feel or why I do the things I do. It’s always been weird that everyone I’ve loved has always wanted something from me. Unconditional love is something I’ve never experienced. It must be a wonderful feeling, wouldn’t it? I mean, when you own someone and someone owns you back.Heh, unconditional love! Bullshit. I understand that there are people who like to maintain the distance and I agree that it’s essential when you live in such a sticky world! All so full of people who are so fragile that they break their hearts themselves and all so full of people like me who hurt themselves all so often. But then, sometimes, try and be human? How difficult is that? I find it very difficult to comprehend the mental state of people who are ignorant and callous. People, who can ignore another person and what he/she feels, people who are nothing more than assoholic backstabbers. I pity their very existence. I don’t have anything more to say. I’m done, tired and worried about why people are – the way they are. I hate em’ all.

-Anup

The smaller things in life.

I’ve always been in love with the smaller things in life. I’d take my time to savour every second of such an occasion and my brains full of these tiny but important things. Come to think of it now, I don’t like thinking of the more complicated problems I or anyone else has for that matter. I’m better off in my world of bits and tinier bits.

I was talking to Ruch yesterday and it was from there that I had this whole thought of expressing whatever was in my heart. Again, I’ve not yet learnt the basic instinct where we humans think and act from different parts of our body. For me, its all heart and I’d want to change but I can’t seem to help myself now. Ruch was telling me about her small squabbles at home and how it affects her. The weird feeling in me was about how drabby life would be without these small fights at home. No reason to cry, no reason to apologize, fights with mom and siblings, a sibling who adores you, a father who acts tough but isn’t and most importantly the food mom cooks! Foods the reason for all make-ups at my place. We’d all have to face each other at the table, whatever the fight be!

I sometimes feel like I’m watching the world around me from a distance and I look at all those people running around for glitz, glamour and glory. I’m confused, do I really want to be a part of the mob or am I happy where I am; this distant space in time where its just me and I’m looking at the world? I’m not a part of the race. I don’t feel the need to excel in anything. I don’t feel like competing cause I always find myself running on a different plateau and I’m tired of running. Why should I bother competing with myself? I can see everyone else running a race they’d never finish. Trying desperately to outrun everyone else. And in this feeble attempt at winning life’s race they’d forget to wait and notice whats whizzing by. Its beauty unlike what they’ve ever seen. I am contented with what I have and with the way I live life but I feel the need to share the infinite joys I find in smaller things and I find no one to share it with cause everyone else is running. I know, I might sound depressing. But then, think about it how many of us have the time to:

  • Wake up in the morning and look at the rising sun and feel its warmth.
  • Talk to the watchman and share a smile.
  • Take out your own garbage.
  • Let that stray dog walk with you silently.
  • Take a walk and observe people.
  • Think about aliens and wonder about life on other planets.(HELL YEAH!!)
  • Dig your nose on an idle tuesday afternoon. At work? Then notice the people around and pretend that you have an irritable itch.

I can think of many more small reasons to feel happy for life but then I feel the world around me has turned anhedonic and what makes them happy is success, power, money and everything else thats nothing but temporary. I guess people would laugh at me for being a dorky dreamer or a whacko freak but then I’ve learnt to not give a shit and then again – Ignorance is bliss! I feel sad for myself cause I’m part of the mob and I sometimes tend to flow in its flow. Here again, I remember the time when I was in love. Man!! I so miss those seconds… those seconds when I watched her walk back home and I waited for her to fade off, waited for her to whisper a ‘love you’ as she clenched onto my jelly belly and we drove off to nowhere, watched her eyes close ever so slowly as we kissed; seemed like eons of neverending glee… THEN! Now, I don’t quite know what to make of all of that. I’m just part of the move on generation and all I can do is move on ever so nonchalant, lost for words and love.

-Anup