21 of the Past. Part - I

We forget very easily. Human memory is so short lived that it cannot remember a lot of things that do or do not matter. I know I am going to forget a lot of things in the future so as I count the beginning of my 21st year, I would like to remember at least one thing from each year of my life that I can remember(not told by anyone). Some of them proved very critical in making my today, let's see how much important are those which come to my mind now.

1: I don't remember anything whatsoever from that year.

2: Nothing much from this except for that I used to enjoy my big cousin Mahendra's company a lot and ran after him every evening when he'll go out for a ride on his bicycle and Ma used to run after me. My first bike(tri-wheeler that lasted only 10 days and my struggle to ride on that broken piece). The burn that I got on my right hand(I have a pic of that but I still remember that without it). My love for the song Mera Joota hai Japani. Gosh! Those were happy days. One thing from my Mom, I got a terrible disease which limped my legs and was unable to walk for 1 month that is when I developed my disgust for honey.

3: This was quite eventful. I remember a lot from this. I would run to my neighbor Aunty and would always eat at her place and when Ma would ask me to stop doing that I would say unki roti jyada meethi hai. Me going to an old man in neighborhood and him always giving me Dabur Chyawanprash. That old potter lady from whom I would always get my piggy banks for free she would give me one and ask me not to tell anybody that I got it for free. I got all injured when I tried to stop some men who were taking away my best friend, the calf of our cow, when I grabbed its leg and was dragged on road for 10 meters crying.

4: We moved to our new house. I remember us going to the new house and I was sitting with our beds on the truck and I remember one of the gullys through which we reached to our house. Me asking Ma that how long can you remember in the past. She says not much and me saying I can remember 100 years. My favorite song changing to Kabootar ja ja...

5: First year for preliminary schooling. Got in a school nearby but attended it for only one day because the Ma'm there bahut kaali thi and looked horrifying. I remember the bag which I took to the school that day, my daddy's office bag. I was taught to write hindi by Ma and I remember her teaching me to write ल which I remember every time I write it. Its a difficult letter to remember. Then me attending two more preliminary schools nearby in one of which Ma'm used to tell stories about a lady in her neighbor who would drink 10 liters of milk in one go and I always thought that old lady is insane. And the other one the retired teacher from Shishu Vihar. I used to stand on road with my friend and wait for any vehicle. We would say its mine as soon as we got a sight of it and would clap if we got one like we've really won it. We always had a competition of who would pee the farthest standing in a line(I don't remember the results though).

6: Great school comes. I sat in the exam for admission in 1 Sr. but was unable to write anything as I had no idea what to write in the exam though I knew it. Me getting my first pen when daddy bought me one saying you might need it in exam apart from pencil. The teacher(Basant Kumar) asking me "What is your name?" at the top of his voice and I was unable to utter a single word I was so frightened. He repeated twice but would not get it from me and in the end read my name on my admit card only.
A boy from my class whose name was most probably Vishaal whose handwriting was was very good but gave less space between words. My first toffee as a prize that Poonam Ma'm gave me at her place after giving my result. Me getting home all by myself only after 1 month I got into school and watching the blacksmith work on my way home for 1 hour everyday.The Lakra brothers and how much I hated them from my first standard only. My diappointment when I heard that I am not selected for 1 Sr. but for 1 Jr. Baalsabha and how much I hated it. Me saying to a lady that don't worry aunty you'll get what's written in your fate nothing else than that and my Mom gasping in shock at that and telling everyone that I said so and every time I was very much surprised over it an thought "Big Deal I said that. Did I say something wrong?"

7: My fued with Sandeep Choudhary over the seat near one of the boys and him saying that his Daddy told him to sit near him. The nervous assembly in which I was left in the class and had a nightmare of time all alone in the class. The khadus teacher Shri Kishan Sharma giving me 14 marks out of 20 for drawing flag of India in the drawing test and Lakra brothers laughing all the time when he threw my drawing out of the window. Me going home shivering all the way and being scolded and then consoled by Nudi for getting 14 marks in drawing. The constant torment both at school and at home for poor handwriting. And yeah the blacksmith, his kids were growing and he used to work a lot more and I used to watch him even more.

Now that I remember a lot of things from 7 years I don't want to write anymore. I want to enjoy those 7 years, relive them only if I can. I'll write rest of them some other day maybe. Those were happy times. Very Very happy times.

Crystal Clear

It should be read whenever confusion erupts. Everything will be clear, crystal clear. Remember the word. "Crystal Clear".


1: Oh, man. You made friends with them. See, friendship is the booze they feed you ...to get you drunk and feel like you belong.
2: Well, it was fun.
1: Because they make you feel cool. Hey, I met you. You are not cool.
2: I know. Even when I thought I was, I knew I wasn't.
1: Because we are uncool. While women will always be a problem for guys like us, most of the great art in the world is about that very problem. Good-looking people, they got no spine. Their art never lasts. They get the girls, but we're smarter.
2: Yeah, I can really see that now.
1: Because great art is about guilt and longing and love disguised as sex, and sex disguised as love. Hey, let's face it, you got a big head start.
2: I'm glad you were home.
1: I'm always home. I'm uncool. The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you're uncool.

Crushes don't last for six years. Do they?? Somebody disagrees with me upon that. So sad for everyone.

Being Cynic.

Strangers are always bad. They can't be good because if they are, they're not strangers. The reverse is equally true. I have someone living inside me and he's a total stranger. I never want to face him, he's a real jerk. Anyways, no matter how unwelcome his presence maybe, his manners are not that good to hold him off, he always pops his head up and now is asking a very unpleasant question. When, how, what and where did it went wrong???
I used to be quite good at psychology. I was able to explain things around me and their reasons. Is it that I've lost it or are they really not that bad?? I need to revise my concepts.
Anyways, be anything in your life but never ever try being a diplomat. It fucks you. Big time. I guess that answers your question buddy!

Lauta Do

Mera Kuchh Saamaan Tumhare paas pada hai
Saawan ke kuchh bheege bheege din rakhe hain
Aur mere ik khat mien lipti raat padi hai
Wo raat bujha do mera wo saamaan lauta do

Its Cold in July.

Walking alone on empty roads in dark nights has always been a refreshing experience. It gives you time to get closer to yourself. To know certain things about you that are important only for you in this world. To give yourself time for dreams that have always been trying to take shape, sitting alone in some corner of your heart, trying to get a way to your mind. Just to think of those dreams, just to loose the shackles of your mind, that you impose on yourself for some strange reason even you don't know, its something very close to heavens for me. But nowadays there are more nightmares then dreams.

Just when you go deep down in your reverie, with a good dream, muttering words to yourself, talking to someone who is not walking by your side, unaware of this selfish world and their cruel methods of life. Then suddenly you know this isn't going to happen in this life. Suddenly you feel the most lonely person of the world. The dream is gone to pieces and you stand there shattered, terrified. Suddenly you start to feel the cold outside. The only cold that hurts me. The only cold that I hate. The only cold that can't be stopped by human inventions. The only cold that is prevalent the whole twelve months of the year. The only cold that can destroy you. The chill is killing. Nowadays, it kills so often and so cruelly that I'm just afraid to talk about it.

?

Does life ask too much from us or its the other way round?