100 years of The Titanic

We all cried when Jack just drifted off into the abyss, when his deep eyes were fading away in the cold Atlantic Ocean. Titanic was a classic and hundred years have passed since that devious day when the Unsinkable sank. A mammoth piece of ice crumbled and humbled the human arrogance that was proclaimed the floating palace. The Titanic that once symbolized wealth and dismay alike later thanks to James Cameron symbolized eternal love and the perennial human spirit. Titanic the movie we all loved and cherishes, Titanic the ship we hardly knew. The frictional presence of Jack and rose made up our dreams, but the real survivors of the terrible night were left in the folds of history textbooks.

Titanic: The Unsinkable Ship

15^th August 1912, exactly an hundred years back was a dark day in the human history, At around 2:20 today early morning occurred the greatest disaster in Maritime History, One that would later become a legend on its own, The sinking of The RMS Titanic. The Largest passenger liner of its time, enjoying the kind of status that the Queen Elizabeth II cruise ship now enjoys, was an engineering marvel of the time. One that was proclaimed to be invincible, one that was destined for greatness, She did make it to the history books but for a sadder reason.

The reasons for the disaster largely remain unknown. Yes! We know it hit an iceberg and sank, but why? Even with ships frantically receiving information of passing icebergs why would it head directly into it at full speed, head on? May be it was the failure of the radio receivers to recogni9ze the relay send to them by ships such as SS Californian and SS Amerika. Or was this the Captain’s failure to assess the situation and took misinformed decisions. I guess we may never know the real series of events that caused this rather unfortunate disaster. With a death toll of a little over 1500, 1514 to be exact, the disaster was the worst of its kind so far. The iconic image of the ship breaking in two in the icy waters of the Atlantic is haunting.

Titanic: The Movie ( 1991 )

“Titanic is a 1997 American epic romantic historical disaster film directed, written, co-produced, and co-edited by James Cameron”. This is how the Wikipedia describes the film. A film like no other and a fractionalized love story that tells the tale of the Titanic and the emotions it carried with it to the icy depths. Apart from just being a commercial and critical success the film made its way into many hearts all around the world. Khalid Hosseini in his book the Kite runner describes how Kabul was gripping in the ‘Titanic Fever’.

Titanic: The Photo Album

An Obituary

The past week was not so particularly good; with two funerals in a row you can expect anything from it either. I hate funerals for a start, they make me rather uncomfortable. But where I stand different from the vast majority of people is on point of perspective, I hate funerals not because I have a hard time understanding life and contemplating death and neither because those are the moments that reveal the evanescence of existence. I hate funerals because of the way it is celebrated rather mourned. I believe death has to be celebration not a moment of sadness, it is a moment if liberation the point of the ultimate nirvana.

May I think so because  nobody close enough to me have so far died to cause me a traumatic state of mind or neither have I connected so well with the great people who have passed away so far in my close kith and kin. I do understand and uphold the possibility of a complete crackdown in ideology whilst someone so dear does pass away. If any do hold a stance not in unison to me do take me for a nubile and let it go.

I am writing this as a memorial for the souls whom I knew and did not have the good will to know before they disposed their mortal selves.  The first of it was the father of a friend, rather an acquaintance. I must say it was a very bad day to get to know him His father’s funeral is by no way the best of days to know a person and understand him. It’s so strange yet so true that in such dire moments we see people with no makeup, they are clear like crystal. Amidst the broken mind and the fl9owing tears they don’t have the time to put up a facet.  They are bared inside out and all they crave is a pat on their shoulder and a shoulder to rest on.

He was a wonderful person, teacher and personality, Not that I know him personally in the eyes of my friend and his mother I saw what a human he was, a true noble soul. In the words of anger that they uttered with divine disgust I was the loving father he was and in their omniscient silence I saw what and how much he meant to them. After all what could a man what from his short mortal stay than to leave a legacy behind, not in big books of history or in bronze statues but in the hearts of men and women whom he lived with and shared his life and its worth with. A man of incalculable value and an owner of a wide heart. May he rest in peace and may his family rejoice in the memories he left behind for them.

Next to depart was a person of such adorable nature, grandmother of my roommates, a very special person to him hence a very special person to me. I have seen her, been in her presence hardly minutes yet those moments shine through the kaleidoscope of my mind. She was a real women with an almost divine aura about her. I don’t want to talk more about her as I know that my friend will obviously read it and it’s hard enough for him I don’t want to make it any harder.  I really wish he didn’t read it at all.

It’s unbelievable isn’t it that in every second almost somebody very dear and real to somebody just cease to exist, some we know many we don’t know. Death is a ubiquitous truth that happens with no warning, no pattern nor any premonitions and yet its remains the most beautiful of all things that could happen to a person. Death is just the end of a dream we call life and death is an awakening into a world beyond the boundaries of this dream we call reality. Death is never an end it’s just the beginning of another existence.

Heaven is a place on Earth with You

Every morning I wish to wake up by your side, let your smile bright up my day. Every Saturday all I wish is to cuddle up to you under the bed sheet you picked. To feel your fragile skin against by bare chest and sniff the lovely scent of your hair. Every lousy evening all I want is to lie on your lap and laugh out loud at your silly jokes. All you have ever done is make my life a bit brighter every day and I have absolutely no idea what I have ever done to deserve you. The funny thing about life is it’s been too generous to me; after all it just gave me you.

Every time I see your eyes my mind takes a journey through all the stupid mistakes that took me to you. And when I look upon it now I know one thing for sure, every step was a step in the right direction, and every step just took me one step closer to you. Life was one hell of a roller coaster and I owe to god for being able to share it with you. Every now and then when I am scared I have a hand to catch on to and every moment of absolute pleasure I have someone to hug. Heaven is just a place on earth and it’s simply because I get to spend time. Heaven is just a place on earth because I have you.

The College Road Trip

Have I ever told you how cupid played my side of the story, I guess not. So here goes my little love story on wheels.

It was on a cold December evening that we started on our college road trip, but little did I know that my life is not going to be the same again after this trip. In between the cold caskets of December nights with the winter mist casting its shadows on our window and slow tremors of our rather creaky railroad moments bloomed. There were the smiles and there were the looking in the eyes, slow humming and the magnificent feeling of her warm skin against mine. This was one journey that was about to offer much more than my most wishes combined together and it just had one hell of an opening night.  Of the many unforgettable things that happened in this week away, I for the sake of sticking to the mushy stuff skip a few of the things that have my tummy aching  even as I just write about it.

  

Our special moment must be the one we had during our shopping time in Bangalore (formally Bengaluru, but still Bangalore is romantic to me). In the city of gardens bloomed our dreams and I should say for a city of flower it has its jinx on us even now just for the sheer number of couples it generated over a single night. I must say electronic city is the least romantic part of the metropolis and there we were lost, unfortunately I, she and a few very good friends of ours were lost in its many nooks and cranny. For starters we were all there as a group to get a few souvenirs for taking home and among the boulevards and global retails houses we lost track of time and direction. Walking from one giant glass paned window to another is not a good way to know where one is going but who really cares; the world was a truly wonderful place then. After a very long time a huge number of shops we realized the unfortunate truth. The college bus has left without us!

It was a pretty good moment to freak out and since I am writing the story I am going to say I freaked out last but me and friends are yet to come to a conclusion on who freaked out first and both parties don’t seem to want to lose any bit of ground. So since I freaked out last it was rather a scary situation to be, we were in city none of us ever has been to and it was getting a bit dark too. So we called up someone on the phone who happened to get the bus and thanks to him we got to know that we were not the only ones to miss the bus and we also learned that the bus is somewhere far and would be coming back for us in about half an hour, Hweeee talk about a relief. So relieved and happy with an extra half an hour of shopping left we started making our return trip to the boarding point and guess what, there was our bus standing there at our boarding point. We were about a couple hundred meters away from the bus.

We started running all together towards the bus furious at the idiot who misled us and believe it or not just then the stupid bus started moving. Then it happened in the heat of the moment without another thought I took her hands and started running towards the bus. In a few hazy steps I realized what I did and I dropped her hand and I stopped. I looked at her eyes and she was just staring at me, amidst all the yelling and screaming from my ‘lovely and civil’ friends we stood there for a few moments. These are the kind of moments where we go for the kiss in Hollywood style movies but all she did was smile and I was a bit shy to kiss her then with all those guys staring at us.

Oh! By the way we did lose this bus and another bus had to come get us, and all my friends were kind of happy we missed it then. But one thing is for sure amongst all the adventures and the moments of closeness we shared in this trip including dining together many times then and getting to tie a necklace round her neck this is the moment I remember the trip by. It was the one moment that made all the difference in an otherwise coed relationship. Holding hands and falling in the abyss of love only come second to the magic of the moment with all the blurred up lights and kaleidoscopic boulevard of dreams.

We went on to be together all the time in the trip and still very much is happening around us, the magic of that moment may be special to that night but the love is so omniscient now that it’s a Bangalore trip every time I am with her and now… She is my girl and I her man, bounded by more than just a ring and thread.

It's What is Not Said

Life is rather elusive yet we live it as if we know all about. In its rather innumerable strangeness lies its beauty and the very reason for the invaluably of life. Life has certain unique ways its chose to be and it has rather solid reasons for it remains so. Who could have thought that what we prefer not to say is much more significant than what we spit out. I have heard people speak in volumes about the importance of saying at times and not saying at times, but what they carefully or carelessly neglect is the significance silence has in ones life as it is. May be that’s because silence is as unattainable as most of the good things in life, they never come easy.

In the many things that we prefer not to say for obvious reasons remains for obvious reasons the fundamental building block to solving our many a million problems. It sounds so obvious doesn't it; keep your mouth shut and no more problems. It ought to be that simple yet we find it increasingly difficult to keep our mouth shut, don't we. The truth and trick is to know when to keep it shut and when to shout aloud. The particular thing about life is that it is not whether we fight or not, fighting is fundamental to marriage as sex, to borrow the idea of Jon fighting is instantaneous, creative and deeply personal, in fact everything that sex ought to be. The trick is not to over do it, know when to stop and know what not to tell. Like any fair fights you win some you lose some, and isn't the reason for the fight not to break up. It serves as a excellent opportunity to let out the steam and make you calm down.

Every fights is a potential treat, you could convince yourself that your fights are just that the normal average household is used to. But the unfortunate truth is there is no simple fight, in every fight lies the indomitable ability to develop into something formidable, something that could wreck your household. Every fight requires the active care of both persons involved to prevent it from developing into anything more than what it is now. A fight is always volatile and ever so tempting. 

Every time you are presented with the option to win, but at what cost it comes is a matter of great concern. Would you want to say something sinister and unforgivable and win or would you want to bow out like a gentleman in the true sense of the word and preserve what you have. It often bothers me whether winning is worth it, why do one ever have to win to win a domestic fight, i ask myself Wouldn't i be happier to just lose and have my family than celebrate my victory as someone else very dear to me lies shattered. Isn't it her loss my loss and isn't her victory just as mine as it is hers. Yet at every fight it seems just as different a story as it possibly can, the spontaneous and explosive creativeness and the intense emotional and personal involvement leaves but little room for a thoughtful fight. But one thing is certain before you say anything too much you are sure to choke and it sure is going to get caught in your throat, that's when you ought to decide whether to say something you are sure to choke on, at the heat of the moment. Its always uptown you to decide and the question always remain.

To say or not to say.

The Little Big Things

Every journey is a new experience, no matter how often, no matter how short they tend to be. It’s not the journey that matters, not as much as the people we get to meet and life we get to experience. Every dawn and every dusk brings along with it a hoard of experiences that are just waiting to be discovered. This is the story of just one of the many interesting people I got to meet in my numerous journeys that made me realise that life is not something sacred; it is what happens right in front of our eyes, everyday. Don’t for one second think that I am an adept traveller, the sad truth is that I started travelling out of necessity and though I prefer the familiar comforts of my writing desk it has given me a chance to experience life as it is, raw and unadulterated.

It must be in one of those dreary Friday evenings that keep coming up every week, offering a strange intoxicating mix of anticipation, relief and happiness that this happened. I was supposedly going home after a week’s hectic schedule and it was literally killing me that I had to wait further for it to happen. I have had a practise of going with a couple of really goods friends; we have been travelling home together since we were travelling home at all. But today they had to pack and they were late, late enough to let me fend on my own. The necessities of the travel insisted that I find a suitable mode of transportation, an autorikshaw ( for those of you unfamiliar with the word, it is a three wheeled public transport vehicle in black and yellow or either, refer any Bollywood flick to know more . It’s easy to spot and hard to forget, for us it’s just a way of life like taxi is to New Yorkers.) is what I had in mind. It was not hard to find one, certainly not on a Friday.

Okay! That matters too!

Soon I landed a certain driver who was more than just willing to take us to the railway station that we needed to get, but since my friends were still packing I had to wait for them to come. Poor chap readily agreed to wait along with me; I must say he was a jolly good fellow to spend time with. Now just for the record I had to wait a good 45 minutes for my friends to come and hence being late for all the right trains. But then again that gave me this rather valuable lesson in life.

The little ones knows much more about little things than us!

The long wait let us on the streets with nothing much top do but talk, though a practical lover of silence I would always like some company at times. He insisted on talking as he would occasionally blurt out some random question or the other (like does every one speak English in the campus) and so and so. I did take a liking to him. Things didn’t get any interesting till a friend of his dropped by and they got talking. The truth is I never intended to eavesdrop on those guys as I was happily trotting away in my own imaginary world. The startling reminiscence of innocence in their routine chat drew my attention to them and their conversations. He was talking about his luck and I was instantly interested in knowing what lady luck has bestowed upon him, the truth was it was me, rather us. I realised then how much it meant for them to have the weekly trips that we made, our travels were more essential to them than it were ever to them.

In their casual conversation lied an unmistakable scent of innocence that is otherwise unseen and unheard of today. He was talking about how lucky he was to have gotten customers that day and how he and friends were celebrating in their free time yesterday and so and so. Its not what they talked that made it important, its how is said it, how with a smile and a attitude to match he made it seem that the very basic things in life were something else entirely. Its how his words and the sentences they formed transcended what would have been just a ordinary life into a story worth talking about, a life worthy of mention. In the simplest sense he taught me how life is in every little thing we do. And what I learnt sitting under the bright evening sun on a concrete sidewall by a rather crowded piece of asphalt.

Story Time

When I heard about Kissan’s new contest in indiblogger a couple of days back, it got me thinking. I was desperately searching for some precious incidents in my childhood that I could write about. I must say I was searching in lines of ‘filmy’ and hence the search returned very few hints. The ones that came in my mind where the ones that were not worth talking about, not even in a rather dull ‘over a cup tea’ talk with my mother. Time went by and other thoughts took over my mind and the day began to unfold in its rather bizarre way as usual. And then in one of its many daydreams I saw my childhood, not the whole lot of it but a certain incident that was as much part of my 5year old self’s life as crying and sleeping.

It was getting very late and impatient. As I was watching out through the grilled window, my eyes resting eagerly at the dimly lit small steel gate of my grandparent's house. The new stainless steel mailbox my grandfather had installed the previous day shinned brilliantly under the flickering yellow street light. My eyes had begun to slip and I might have dozed off a couple of times before I heard the creaking of its rusty joints. A sudden energy had build up inside me and I dashed downstairs to greet the oil stained brown paper packet my grandfather always bought. I ran to him and hugged his leg. He was not incredibly tall, just an average 5ft 10in, may be 6ft at the maximum, but for me a couple feet and a little bit tall toddler, that was the best I could do. I looked up at him in his eyes with the most beautiful smile I had asked him 'Appuppa, ennik entha konduvanne?' (Grandfather what have you brought me?). He would as always hold out the same oil stained brown paper cover out to me, but before letting me have it he would make me jump at it for sometime by holding it just out of reach for my tiny hands. All I had to do was give a fake cry and a sad face :) and he would invariably give it to me with a smile and a light kiss. I could climb up him and settle myself in the cosy corner of his elbow and start unwrapping the package that he had brought me while he engages himself in his daily pre-dinner prayer.

The most memorable of things that has happened during my life with my grandparents were always in the night. From what I have scribbled up so far it’s needless to say that I love my grandfather, but what made me love him so much is definitely worth mentioning. Though it has much to do with the fact that he supports all the mischief that I did and later did the same for my two brothers, but the one thing that was most amiable about my grandfather is the way he tells a story. Every night is a story time, with the characters of Ramayana and Mahabharata and his favourite Vishnu Purana unfolds in all their might and glory in his passionate narration. His stories were not so much a teaching or preaching as a way to get me sleep, yet they were the best of times, cuddled to my grandfather and with periodic humming (to ensure him I was not yet asleep).

The night was only our beginning back then, after our dinner it would take as definitely take us some time to get to the bed. I always made sure I slept with my grandparents, I would always sleep in their midst, I think it has much to do with the coziness of having them with me that had to do with it. As soon the lights are gone starts the story, always in the same way, with the kings, the queens and their heroic tales from Ramayana, Mahabharata and Vishnu Purana. He had a unique of telling a story and always refused to tell further if I stopped humming, I think it was his way of knowing when I had drifted to sleep. He would always tell the stories from these three areas only but, they are just big enough for a five year old to forget the beginning by the time we reach the end. may be its the wisdom of the stories he told or the way he put it, or just the uncanny combination of it that left me craving for a new story every night.

Those were the times of my life, in my grandparents house running among the trees and playing in the mud, luxuries that no longer exists for us anymore. Its that life I so poignantly miss in my life among the steel carcasses on wheels and the rising skylines. The life in the country among the fresh nature is a gift that I am not sure that I could ever give my children, the thoughts haunting, May be I will tell them stories like my grandfather told me. Give them much love and that should reduce my guilt at least in a very minuscule sense.

Image copyright:  reserved by Leesamaree

Happy Valentines Day, Everyone!

Valentines day is just around the corner and I was still why its not a public holiday yet, unlike other holiday in a valentines day we have lots to do right? Its not a easy job being a valentine. anyhow  just because it falls on a random working day doesn't mar any of it glamour. the day is just as afresh with love as any. Does it ?

So since its a valentines day and I already have a beautiful gift wrapped up for my special one, I have nothing much to write about that until after Tuesday. we don't want to ruin the surprise do we, not that she will read it or anything, but cant take chances. Not with her. So I decide to do some searching, a bit of goggling, some digging a bit of tweeting , a pinch of scrounging and to top it all up a bit by myself. So  here are all the funny, lovely and strange things that popped up along the way.

A little bit of History courtesy of Mr Wiki

from Valentine's Day - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The Early Medieval acts of either Saint Valentine were expounded briefly in Legenda Aurea. According to that version, St Valentine was persecuted as a Christian and interrogated by Roman Emperor Claudius II in person. Claudius was impressed by Valentine and had a discussion with him, attempting to get him to convert to Roman paganism in order to save his life. Valentine refused and tried to convert Claudius to Christianity instead. Because of this, he was executed. Before his execution, he is reported to have performed a miracle by healing the blind daughter of his jailer.

Since Legenda Aurea still provided no connections whatsoever with sentimental love, appropriate lore has been embroidered in modern times to portray Valentine as a priest who refused an unattested law attributed to Roman Emperor Claudius II, allegedly ordering that young men remain single. The Emperor supposedly did this to grow his army, believing that married men did not make for good soldiers. The priest Valentine, however, secretly performed marriage ceremonies for young men. When Claudius found out about this, he had Valentine arrested and thrown in jail.

There is an additional modern embellishment to The Golden Legend, provided by American Greetings to History.com, and widely repeated despite having no historical basis whatsoever. On the evening before Valentine was to be executed, he would have written the first "valentine" card himself, addressed to a young girl variously identified as his beloved as the jailer's daughter whom he had befriended and healed. It was a note that read "From your Valentine.

So thanks to Mr Saint Valentine, We our very own Valentine and a common valentines day, You did great St valentine irrespective whether you you wrote the valentines day greeting or not, we your humble followers do so every year with out fail and shall continue to do so  till of course we get to join your excellence in the highest heaven.

A few lovely quotes to get you in the Groove

courtesy of peachpurple

Top 10 Valentine's Day Quotes which I find them romantic, lovely and unique.

1.Life's greatest happiness is to be convinced we are loved- by Victor Hugo

2.Love is the condition in which happiness of another person is essential to your own - by Robert Heinlein

3.Love is the only gold - by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

4.To love is to receive a glimpse of heaven- by Karen Sunde

5.A life without love is like a year without summer - by Swedish proverb

6.Love is a promise, love is a souvenir, once given, never forgotten, never let it disappear - by John Lennon

7.For it was not into my ear your whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul. - by Judy Garland

8.Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning - by Unknown

9.Love is all you need - by Paul McCartney

10.When I say, "I love you," it's not because I want you or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I have seen your kindness and your strength. I have seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You ARE a HELL of a WOMAN ! - by Joss Whedon

11. "Love is always in the air, all you have to do is sniff it" - Rupertt Aryeen Wind 

( Wondering who Rupertt Wind is? That's me just added this myself. LoL :)

A few extra pics I found lying around

courtesy of amolife

So that's it in this thread, the next one will contain more of romance, love and action all packed into a beautiful pink valentine gift for you, until then stay tuned.

Just kidding get away from the screen before your special one trashes it for paying it more attention that him/her.

Have a very special valentine's week, Love is always in the air , all you have to do is sniff it.  he he

photos :courtesy of amolife

-Rupertt Wind

A Dream Proposal

The night sky was dark, yet it was beautiful, star studded and comets shooting. The silver moon-lings have been slowly dancing their way from the horizon towards the sandy shore that shone with a certain silvery elegance. There was a cold breeze now and then and so there to was the slow erotic hum of the deep abyss. It was as if at this secluded and lonely beach the universe had started working its century old magic tricks. Of all these beautiful things there was one thing that stood out among the rest, It was a  moonlit silhouette, with beautiful hair flowing flawlessly down her cape that flew about in the wind, with the most stunning pair of eyes that reflected the beautiful moon in all its grandeur better than the vast see before her and with a pair of lips where bloomed my whole world. She was beautiful and she was mine.

I had chose the place not knowing all its beauty and certainly not what the universe had in store for me. It was just perfect, I knew it when I saw her, her moonlit face and her gaze fixed at the horizon. She was perfect, the air was perfect and I was ready to take the next steps. there was no longer a pounding heart and no longer worries of it all going wrong, time had just stopped from then. I slowly descended the stairs that took me to the beach. She immediately sensed me , she turned around facing me,ah! her beautiful face. For an instance we both stopped there like two perfectly crafted sculptures, then she smiled and turned around returning to gazing at the horizon.

I slowly went to her, there was nothing more we could say we had finished with our dialog long ago, now it were just silent exchanges. I knew where I had to stand, slowly moving close to her, I gently placed my hands above her waist, moved close to her without even slightly disturbing her from her trance. She acknowledged my presence with a smile and slowly placing her head over my shoulder and we slowly sat down there in the soft silver sand listening to the oceanic hums. Time just went by as our hands found each other and slowly engaged itself in a slow embrace. The time was perfect, I had to do it now. I slowly pulled away and she looked at me with an anxious on-look. In her eyes she was expecting something , there was innate curiosity in her sparkling eyes. I slowly put my hands in my pocket and  retrieved a small black box covered with velvet cloth, I slowly moved to my knees and opened it in front of her. A small box with a small ring inside, just for her.

When Gods Fall and Angels Die : The Diary of a Victim

I have thought long and hard, whether to write about this or not, especially when what I have to say has much to do with another person and his life. I wouldn’t want to damage a life that is not mine. Had it been my life I could have risked it, but not with another man’s life. But then what I had to tell had its own significance and due importance in my life that I just had to write about it. Otherwise it would just be an injustice to myself and my blog which has always sincerely housed by dark secrets and flamboyant triumphs alike. And then I decided I had to write and write such that no one is hurt but so is my heart poured out and emptied.

When it happened to you, I was happy that it was not my life, but now when it had happened to me I see no path that will cover my speedy escape, no path fast enough to run away from myself. It has happened to me, but how often does it happen to one? How often does it happen that some one whom you have so far placed in a castle of gold and ivory in your mind has just fallen short? How often does some one you so dearly love, you so idolized just does something really stupid? How often do they with that one action, annihilate a lifetime of memories? It’s cruel, it’s demeaning that such would happen, but isn’t life cruel and unforgiving to begin with.

It has now happened to me, it’s not my first time but so far they were people who had not touched my life in flesh and blood, so far they have been the ones that had the limelight shine on them, the ones that owned the celluloid and the ones that roamed the green fields. Its one thing that such surreal people blinded by fame be idiots by own making, but it’s an entirely different matter that someone so real, so close, so kith and kin do what that can but be termed ‘stupid’. The facts of the dark be lit by no more light because there lies no pleasure in opening wounds that has decided to heal just on the surface even after so long. But its never the moments of thoughtlessness that causes the real harm, it’s the grueling hours that you are left with yourself, its unforgiving and heartless in torture, the grueling in hell!

But after long hours and after many a sunrises and sunsets when I finally got back what bit was left of my broken mind in order, though the damage was done the one person I could not bear to forgive was myself, not after all that I could have done and I did not, not when I have turned it around many times in the many replays of life I lived. But then I asked myself, how and why did this happen? What is it that one thing that changed in life so fast? May be I was too sure, too soon. But was I fair, fair in placing all those responsibilities on a person’s shoulder without his consent, fair in believing that someone will keep the promises that he had not given. The truth is I do not know, there a part of paining head that begs to kill him and another part that despises no one but myself. the truth is I don’t know.

I had to write about it, its life and it never takes its turn for your liking. It plays hard and fast, it always has and it always will. Always so full of lies, lies there, lies here, lies everywhere. Its such a shame that we live a life full of lies, may be just may be life is just another lie, a lie that we all believe to be true, a lie we believe on convenience alone. Isn’t it shameful or I am just still in a haze. What ever be the state that is mine, the ugly fact is that when the gods do fall and when angels die it’s never a pretty sight to behold. It’s a rape, a rape of the human mind and the mirage of trust.