Random Thoughts

I stare right at you, I know you, I am you. But, now, I am not so sure, I somehow know the stark contrasts, You are a stranger mocking at me. Seconds tick by and the midnight approaches, I sit alone here, seeing the reflection of you, Noting the subtle changes, Those that smiles cannot hide, Is it a memory? Is it the person? What holds you there? Frozen in time, unwilling to step out? I know there is something wrong, I can’t put a finger at it, I just know it.

“When it is you who can’t let go of something, never ever let it go.” This sentence stuck with me from the moment I read it and that was way back when I was nine years old. Since then it is a mantra I repeat every now and then to hold on and fight that bit longer and to regain focus on something I was beginning to lose. With all my might I used to go back to the initial point of what started the entire process of this struggle and it never failed me. Many a time we are willing to give up on a fight, because it is the easiest thing to do. But some struggles in life are really worth fighting, because they define the person you are. And some fights are essential to show the beauty of life. When you want to give up on something, just remember what started all this and if the reason still exists, fight and fight with all your might. There is a chance that you will succeed and even if you don’t, don’t give up. We all struggle through phases of life, struggle to stand tall and strong. Struggl...

How do gestures matter? Should we reassure the presence of something that is quintessential for survival? Like, should one reinforce that there is air and that we are breathing it? Why do we express our emotions? Like anger, irritation, frustration, hate, love, despair – each having their definition and appropriate use? What does it mean to empathise? I mean, why should one actually express oneself? Is it not obvious when you know someone? “Don’t you know how I feel?”, is such an obvious question and I wonder, how can one get into one’s mind to actually understand how one feels at that point of time? Is it logically possible to pin down one’s emotional quotient? Then why should there be a language to express emotions and why do we need so many words to bring out the stark contrasts of each emotion a person feels at a point of time? Smiles, tears, hugs or slaps… all these can be buried deep under, the entire expression language can be shoved into a casket and buried deep inside the eart...

Why? Why is memory related to heart? What is heart any way? A pumping machine or something beyond that? I am sure some one out there is willing to smack my head to the pavement for asking such a thrilling question. But, can’t help it! I was reading through some stuff today and suddenly found this statement and it got me thinking. Why is it that every memory should have an emotional quotient rather than a logical reasoning? When we get the job done with reason, why is it that heart, which basically is incapable of forming a coherent idea, needs to take command of the memory which in turn resides in the mind? I want to run through this idea with a few friends out there and I am sure I am gonna get my share of sarcasm and an earful of taunts and another earful of compliments for taxing my brain which they will conclude has deserted me, but I am gonna bear all this with a brave face as long as they are willing to pass me a proper conclusion as to whether the afore mentioned statement is ri...

To hunt for the pride, to search for the warmth, to feel belonged, to be loved, my choice all in all. To love, to yearn, to long, to wait, my choice all in all. I walk, I talk, I cry, I smile, my choice all in all. You make me happy, you help me live, You push me through my day, You pull me up when I fall, … To be happy, to live a life, To get by the day, To rise when I fall, My choice all in all. Don’t you see, you are the wind beneath my fly? Don’t you see, you are the breath of my life? Don’t you see, you are the glow in my eyes? Don’t you see, you are the pride in my heart?

I search for you in my dreams, I search for you in the day light, I search for you in the moonlight, I search for you in the blue moon, I search for you every where, Why do I forget that you are within me?

My Net seems to behave conked these days, crippling me beyond reason. There is a sense of despair that is hanging round me because of it. I want to do ‘N’ things at the same time, the usual me. I am doing something and thinking something else at the same time. That in no way means I am multi-tasking, way beyond that. Except for work, I am hardly focused on anything with a single minded dedication. If it means, I need to study for something, I am usually thinking of folding the clothes that are hanging outside in the balcony or thinking about cleaning the table that seems to be cluttered with a truck load of things that I don’t even want to mention here. If I am watching TV, the incessant flip of the channels is almost essential to give me a feeling that I am actually watching TV. And if I am watching a movie, unless it is having some hot hero in it ;), I am usually thinking about the things I did that day or the conversations I had with people. And if I am eating, it would be that I ne...

Changeling, by Clint Eastwood, set in the time frame of 1920’s or 1930’s, is a portrayal of a true story. Her son was missing and answering that compliant, police department returns a boy. It’s the story of this mother and her fight against the established corruption in the government bureaucracies when she goes against the authorities denying that the kid returned was an impostor. Angelina Jolie played the role of the distressed mother (Christine Collins) beautifully. The only negative I have on the film was that it was too quiet and a little laid back. But then, considering that it was Clint Eastwood film, I am not surprised. Plot runs around Mrs.Collins, who goes public saying that the authorities have returned an impostor after gathering enough proof for her claim. When she approaches the authorities she was blatantly called irresponsible mother and a liar. Tolerating all these, she still begs them to keep looking for her missing son. She finds a friend in the local Reverend who us...