In dodo's head

The whole Team US vs Team Syria and Obama's great plan of saving the people of Syria bothers me a lot. Afghanistan, Iraq and Libya still exist in the shambles that was left when mighty America rescued it from the clutches of evil. The sad thing is, for all the ideals that are bullshitted as 'reasons to intervene', it's only the innocent who are killed. The drones that flock to the scene to wipe out the so called evil, only find targets in the children and men and women of the country. It's the soldiers who move in into these places poisoned with animosity who are sent home in coffins draped in their countries' colours. The men in suits and ties sit in posh locations discussing strategy. They move the pieces on the chessboard, unaffected by the wreckage they cause on the ground. Would Syria be any different?

For, love is a word carelessly hurled, At a friend who accidentally might say the right thing at the right time, At a stranger who might do a good deed. To acquaintances in a casual get-together. Ubiquitous and cheap a word it now is, Something commonplace, I too find myself gushing it to people Who hardly have a place in my heart. That's what this fast everything world does to you. Takes away the beautiful things and utterances. Much like the two minute noodles, And five minute mc Donald fries, I love you too has become a merely hourly thing. Spoken to people you barely know, And taken for granted by people you do know. -A disgruntled soul

And just like that, strangers they become. Old habits become a memory, to caress on lonely days. Just like that, stubborn souls shun, but does the soul really forget. The familiar remain just that, familiar. Old war scars are scrapped, oh the sting. There's something haunting about alone-ness. The demons haunt, oh how they haunt. Friendly gestures oh how they deceive. Oh how easy it has been to replace, and be displaced. Life goes on, they say. But does it, for I am still stuck at that time, When laughter flowed carelessly, Not one dark thought looming like the malicious clouds above. Oh look, how they open and pour, The rain, it pours. Like an unquiet company, speaking ceaselessly. There's no stopping it now. Oh the rain, how it pours.

Found myself today in a strange frame of mind, reminiscing about the days gone by, and the memories which seem to get hazy as more days go by.. Technology is such a brilliant and indispensable thing. Facebook messages, gtalk chats, even phone messages.. All a log of conversations you had or didn't have.. Makes the growing distance between people even more blatant.. You know, time has that painful power.. Of healing the pain, and worsening it too, all at the same time.. I find myself, time and again, missing people.. Those who are not in my life anymore.. Those who drifted apart from as we grew up.. Sometimes I wish I could go back to the days when things were different, so that I could cherish the bond we had back then even more.. So that I could show them just how much they meant to me.. Sometimes I wish I could have them now, with me, so that I could have more memories with them.. So that I would not have to rack my brain to remember what they looked like, how they spoke, ho...

Is there anything more annoying than traffic jams.. Well there are a lot of things more annoying, but surely, traffic jams on highways would rank as one of the more high BP inducing incidents among all.. That too on a hot sunny day. forty degrees or so heat.. So here I am back in one of favourite cities of the world, figuring out life.. Well more like "figuring out life" which is my code for this exam no one likes to admit they are giving.. (UPSC exam, if you must know).. It has something to do with the success rate, or rather the failure rate. Millions of people in India give it each year, and yet only a few hundreds find themselves at the other end of the hurdles.. So anyhow here I am, preparing for the exam, which should explain the lack of blogging..

It was a VIP event, so as to speak. A decadent event where the drinks and tandoori chicken flowed.. bearers dressed in white whisking in and out of the carpeted hall carrying platters of food. Guests sat on sofas, partaking in polite conversations with their neighbours, while listening to the singers who graced the stage. Right, the music, which was the reason for this particular gathering, and which my father thinks deserves a review from my side. The music. Two years ago, I happened to attend the same event, and by no means do I mean this as a compliment, they sang the same songs. The same faces, the same kind of music, the same gaudy lights. Manipur is rich in diversity.. of people, of flora and fauna, and so on.But when it comes to music, specifically the mainstream music, it is sadly still lagging behind. Most of this so called "Manipuri music" are "inspired" (a more generous word to replace "copied") by/from Hindi or Korean music.. to the extent...

Give me not your ungenuine glance, Hide away your unhelping hand, I have no place at all in my existence, For anymore of those.. Why must you pretend, Why go through with such a chore, Why be a disgrace to all that remains of humanity..