Life...

Its going to get so difficult from now on. Two years in college are almost over. Academics are slipping already. My GPA by the end of this semester should be around 3.95. But mainly, I have no work experience in Computer Science. Doesn't look like I am getting any next semester.

After graduating in 2013, I would need to get a job... or go to a really good graduate school. I just got rejected for MIT transfer too. I it will be so hard to get into MIT for grad school.

God only knows what will happen ... I just hope everything settles down decently in the end ...

I want to sing to you (sappy alert!)

You are your delightful smile,

And how you run and kiss me as I leave,

All this time, all this while,

You're too perfect, too wonderful to believe.

And your love for me I can see

Bubbling in your big, deep, blue eyes,

When I hold you tight, as tight can be,

this is no dream, these are no lies!

As you lay next to me last night,

The moonlight shone across your tranquil face,

I can't get over that dreamy sight,

of you and your simple mystifying grace.

.
.

.

So, I want to sing to you,

about what I feel for you now,

You fill my heart with a love so true,

You've all of me, and I don't know how.

And I want to sing to you,

about how much I need you by my side,

I wanna hold you close and kiss you too,

and keep you forever and never let you slide.

Brothers

It is a difficult bond.

It's cold, so what!

The snow flakes are white,

then they vanish out of sight,

as they kiss your dry skin,

and wipe off your cheerful grin.

The cold wind slaps your face,

and you curse this frigid place,

and cover your face and whine,

as shivers twist through your spine.

It's cold, and we're freezing,

and these sharp flakes are teasing,

but the snow is lifted by the breeze,

and placed delightfully on these naked trees.

The ivory shines charmingly all around,

and the wind's is the only sound,

it touches our ears and whispers,

the secrets of all worldly stirs.

So admire her in this wretched form,

as Nature brings us this icy storm,

and live with this, which we cannot change,

this merciless beauty, strong and strange.

What's up..

(I SOMEHOW DELETED THIS @_@)

This blog was supposed to be active all my life. It needs to record my life, in a sense. Hence the name "Imprints on the sands of Time". I mean that has a much deeper meaning, but I will save that for later... maybe for my last ever, ever post. It will be interesting to see if this survives the test of time.

Anyways, I haven't posted in a while, and I shouldn't do that. I often have inspiration to write poems but I get lazy and don't. I'll get back to it though.

Meanwhile, I came to KU, to McCollum, to 8th Floor. These last 2 years have been so, so wonderful - it is almost difficult to believe. Lawrence is a beautiful place. Laid back and peaceful - totally my type. I have music in my life, I am getting fairly good grades - so my parents are happy - that is nice. I went to a wrestling show :D.

Most importantly, I have found friends. Arooj, Mel, Nick, Luke, Tanner, Zac, Zach, Katie, Anita, Chris, Alexis and Barefoot Tim. And they are great. I trust them completely and whole-heartedly and they will remain my friends for life. Also I have not lost attachment from Rohit, Nishant, Anant, Mukund, Akash an Pranjal - they are still my best friends.

I also have a girl. I like her a lot. It is really nice right now. I don't know how long it will last. All I know is that whoever this girl is with, would be very lucky and she would bring so much happiness to that guy. I might be that guy for a brief while - and that is exciting :)

Quit Wasting Time

So much to do,

Places to go,

It’s time you race,

Cannot be slow.

Do you notice the world,

And its mysteries?

These twisted locks,

Can you find the keys?

This moment right now,

Can make you sing,

Or spark a revolution,

The joy it can bring.

Now, you’re walking around,

Brooding over a thought,

Which makes you sad,

In pain, are you caught?

This lonely time,

Is it worth your mind?

You can do more than this,

You can break this confine.

Let your spirit flow,

Let your thoughts rhyme,

Realize your worth,

And Quit Wasting time…

An honest thought...

I entered a new school when I was 11-12 years old. The school which my brother was from. Being quite interested in Science ( and I was interested in a lot of other things as well...) as I grew over a couple of years, I suppose everyone came to know I fared decently well in academics. So people around me, who liked me, used to say, " You have talent, you should use it to the fullest", or "Man! Your a Genius, you're better than others...". And it was at times like these I was always caught off-guard. I didn't quite know what to say. I had never thought of it that way... I always used to say, "I'm no Genius", or " ..eerr.. I don't know .. maybe..." . I never gave " What am I? " that much of a thought perhaps... just liked what I was doing  in life at that time ... Nonetheless I didn't really care what people said. But I did come to know that they liked me or appreciated me, so it felt good.

A year or two on... Things were normal till class 11th. I had a real slump in Academics(and it continues to date).  Perhaps I just didn't give it as much attention as needed. Or perhaps the level of academics had just gone higher. I also realize sometimes I didn't/couldn't do things I really wanted to do, or the way I wanted to do them. Those were mistakes. I was unhappy also sometimes with things around me, because my conscience always told me where and when I was not being 'me'. And now there were people saying, " You've wasted yourself" or " Tumhaara IIT mein naheen hoga" or just having digs at me to assert the fact that I was inferior to them somehow. And I had the same feeling as before. I was most definitely caught off-guard this time as well, saying " theek hai bhai .. you're better" ... or " I think I can do better perhaps like you say ... "  or just not speaking anything. The only difference here was I knew they were not appreciative. Still, I generally am unaffected by anybody's opinion of me... except some people. These people, who you've decided are most important to you, and it is a fact that what they think of you, affects you. And the number of such people had increased by a few as I approached end of School.

I don't like such people a lot, who try to assert there inferiority or superiority on you. It might be true that such objective comparisons make me really ill at ease - This "competitive spirit" perhaps, or these exams or anything that puts a tag on you - 'pass' or 'fail', 'right' or 'wrong' , 'good or bad', 'deserving' or 'undeserving' - To the extent that they scare me, when I'm low on confidence, specially when it comes from people whose opinion might affect you...

I believe everyone of us, at least me, knows deep inside what is his/her way of doing a certain thing, what is his/her right or wrong, what he/she is... You just know when you are being you... and when you are not ... 

I just want to be me... and I will, like I have most of the times, be honest to myself, my thoughts and my emotions .... 

"We were meant to live for so much more

Have we lost ourselves? 
Somewhere we live inside
Somewhere we live inside...."

What?

I'm looking around - the dim CFL, the curtains, the telephone, the screen, the doors, the walls, the "pooja-ghar" with books and pictures of gods and "gangajal" , the dining table with the sauce bottle reading "Kissan" and the mangoes and the helmet in one corner and the cray bandage and the clock ticking time away and the frizzing fan ... everything... 

The books, the "lectures of physics by feynman" ... the Ivanov, Krotov, Belikov, Irodov, Potapov, Tursnov, The Krantz, the Hawkings, the David Deutch, the Numer Theory, the Fountainhead, the concepts of space science, the art of living, the Centre Fresh Book of Cricket Lists, the Fomin's the Chekov's plays, the short stories and the How to Solve it and the Beer & Johnson and the  Riddles in your teacup and the Cambridge Guide to Stars and Planets and the Patrrick Moore and the Maron, the Macbeth...... the FIITJEE, the FIITJEE and the FIITJEE!!!!

And the BLUE Bag ... which contains in it the GREY bag, which contains in it the BLUE bag which reads PEMIC, my most favorite one ... the bag retired now to a most important duty, to guard the materials and remnants of a love story and the aftermath...

The "Sid" pasted on the door in black with sprinkles of gold, the Dev ...... D ... written in purple on the yellow wall , the Smoking man with a beard in orange on the adjacent wall, the anatomic face on the back door, the unfinished concord on another wall .... the grey book shelf filled with books, kept on it the picture of the girl holding a flower and written under it "love understands and therefore waits" , the "Honorable Mentions" and the First Prizes ... and the Gold Medals and the Bronze one and the Consolation Prize and the folder of certificates, the purse with the money collected and spent over a lifetime Rs. 1040 , the scooter keys the folded blanket the bags the orange and the black one and the blue one, the passport, the question papers and more question papers the answered those left unanswered ... the book shelves, Gurudev, the guitar, the picks, the harmonium, the open register with an incomplete peom titled "Dorothea" .... the tennis racket and the covered table fan and the table light ..... and the "busy bee" cover ... 

A Mad man's love

The lazy teardrops fall,

From my swiftly blinking eyes,

I hear my restless heart beating,

Over my stammering sighs.

How could you love me then,

When you knew it was unfair,

When you would need me most,

I just might not be there.

I'm sorry for being my psychic-self,

My inability to understand,

You'll find more graceful lovers,

But how I wish I could hold your hand.

I do not deserve you - I know,

I realize I'm insane,

But I have this feeling I cannot express,

This... love perhaps I cannot explain.

I break into animal-like laughter,

As I remember that adorable smile on your face,

My weird childish mannerisms,

Could have never been a match for your grace.

I stare into your photograph,

Then press it to my heart,

As if protecting your thoughts,

I'll never let them depart.

Folding into myself, in a corner,

I cling on to your memories,

You're mine, when I close my eyes,

And here - we're together in peace.

ACID

The colours, red and yellow and green,

And the Dark in the light chrome,

The stretched curves in the sketch,

And the blurred sight of Another home.

It's not me,

It might be acid,

But I don't know.

The beeps preceding the singular note,

And the percussion beaten free,

And a bird sings in the background,

The sound is incoherent harmony.

It can't be me,

They say it's acid,

But I don't know.

This is the smell of withered roses,

Where does it come from, petals or thorns?

But it is indeed a pleasant fragrance,

And I feel like an infant, newly born.

It might be me,

It almost is acid,

But I don't know.

And now I feel the pinch,

So this is what they call pain,

I feel warm like the steel in the daylight,

And the drops that strike me, might be rain.

Oh! Yes.

It is me,

And it is acid.

But I will never know.