My Red Cowboy Boots

This one was just for pure, unadulterated fun, written at the request of a friend. They were supposed to be the lyrics of a blues song, which didn't quite work out :P. It's dedicated to Ted Moseby, from How I Met Your Mother, who is my inspiration for this one. :P


My Red Cowboy Boots

I’d travelled the world
Had travelled far and wide
To New Orleans, Minnesota
I was a’finally going home, to my pretty bride

I stopped on my way
Thought I’d buy her some gift
In this shabby old town
At maybe some store, or thrift

I saw a glow, neon and red
Half was broke, like hanging from a thread
I walked inside, and felt I was hit
For the store smelt like a shittin’ pit.

The man said, “Sir, I’d knew you come.
I’ve been waiting so long,
Grab a chair, I’ll get you rum.”

I set myself down, and put my feet up
Sand poured out, holes peeked from my shoes
He finally came, and opened a bag
And inside there was, a pair of red cowboy boots

i gave him a dime, and I walked out the store
I was a’singing, those boots were a’shining

Sweet love of mine, slick boots of mine
Shiny and polished, red and bright
Oh, my new red cowboy boots!

I reached me home, walked to the gate
She waited there, in her dress so fine
She ran to me, and I kissed her dear
Tears of joy, like troughs of beer

We went inside, stayed up whole night
We talked of my travels, and made sweet love
In the morning, when the sun shone bright
She awoke and saw, my red cowboy boots

She screamed and she yelled
Throw them out, she said.

Sweet love of mine, slick boots of mine
Shiny and polished, red and bright
Oh, my new red cowboy boots!

I looked at my girl
And then I looked at those boots
She was my love,
But those were my red cowboy boots!

I put on my boots, and I walked right out
“come back come back” I heard her shout
I looked at my boots, and gave a grin
There they were, my red cowboy boots!

Sweet love of mine, slick boots of mine
Shiny and polished, red and bright
Oh, my new red cowboy boots!



I think I just realised exactly how gay the chorus is. No wonder it could never be a blues song :P

An Epiphany

I had an awakening today. No, not the sexual kind. The spiritual sort. The sort where you suddenly realise what you are, who you are. You realise your own person. I didn’t get an epiphany, where I miraculously changed my life and became a better human being. Just realised my own futility.
Everything I’ve written so far, so like a pompous ass, makes me worse than the rest. I just realised this. Cos I know it. I know what I’m doing or not doing. All the judging I do, all the harsh criticism I’ve written, I know everything myself, yet I do it too. And I admit it. And I know it. At least most of the “they” that I talk about are people who are blissfully ignorant of their own folly, who continue to gladly live in that state of denial and ‘misery’ as I’ve so often called it. The state of wasting their lives. Yet I know it. And I’m still there, or ‘here’ I should say. I still don’t change. I’m too lazy. And to change, you need to get over the laziness. Get over “tomorrow” and do it now.
The famous saying (been there, done that, I know, but still..):
Kal kare so aaj kar
Aaj kare so ab…
(I don’t know the lines after this, My apologies :P )
Yet the opposite of this appears to be my life’s motto: “Everything must be done only when necessary. Which means, only at the last minute.”
That’s what makes me fail.
Not only my exams (which I still continue to pass, and rather brightly, thanks to my inherent intelligence), but everywhere else.
Maybe it’s about time I got off my ass and started doing things. I know it’s a pretty big ass, but it can certainly be got off. Very easily in fact. :P The only problem is that it’s not my ass that stops me from getting off it, but the vast, VAST region overcome by the troops of His Royal Highness Laziness.
He planned his attack on me when my mind turned about 9 or 10. He was also joined by his ally, Lord of the Fun. Lord Fun is the bigger evil of the two. He is devastatingly handsome, with curly hair, twinkly eyes, and smile you can’t resist (you get the gist). And he can very cleverly change his gender, appearing as a stunningly “hot” dame with legs as long as tree trunks, carved to perfection. These forms are like those of a Pitcher Plant. A Pitcher Plant takes on a beautiful appearance and a heavenly smell to attract insects to it. As soon as the insects get attracted and come near it or settle on the plant, it devours them. So does Lord Fun.
He is known to have charms and know such spells that he steals away even the hardest, sternest minds. He steals away their focus and their concentration. He loots their mind. His armies have been known for pilferage and raping both men and women. I forgot to mention his army. His armies also come in various appearances. There is one kind called Algahol. One called Gruds. Another which takes on the form of Mozic, another Phim. Another evil one comes as Barty, then another as Shecks. And the army goes on. One of the most vast armies seen by mankind. All with highly destructive and highly, highly corruptive powers.
I myself have seen scholars, deeply engrossed in their mathematical equations and historic invasions (those by others than Lord Fun and His Royal Highness Laziness), taken away by Lord Fun. He is a dangerous, dangerous man. Or woman. Beware.
So anyway. I was drastically taken over by the combined forces of Lord Fun and H.R.H. Laziness. I was at a tender age (they are evil, petty people, who take over especially over those with minds easily molded) when they attacked me. And the damage was done. At first he only got the troops of Phim, Telly Vizn and Brooks. But as I grew into my teens, he was joined by Algahol, Mozic, Franz, Shecks’ younger brother Luv and Barty. They looted me. They raped me. I was torn away inside, devastated by Lord Fun. That was all I could think of. Mostly all that I can think of even now.
H.R.H. Laziness was present too. Yet he was a sort of by product of Lord Fun himself. And he continues to take over me.
I try to fight him. My parents help me. They use rules and punishments. Bad makrs and threats. Yet Lord Fun is hard to overcome. His strength is too hard. And Franz and Luv’s armies have enlarged their troops. There is just a four legged creature on my mind now. Two, in fact. Dogs. (this is my private thing. You don’t understand. Don’t think you do. Unless you’re one of them)
And I know this. It’s not just me overcome by Lord Fun and his troops. It’s all of us. Everyone. There are but a few who have fought the troops and stayed true to themselves and borne the strength. I aim to fight it too.
Yet this post doesn’t help. For me, this is another one of Lord Fun’s troops. Another one of his men. Yet a slightly less destructive one. He’s a good man. He understands me. And he helps me.
I hope this looting and raping of my mind by Sir Writing has helped someone. It helped me. I had fun writing this.  :P
Good Night.

Random Musings

Does everything have to be perfect?
Does everything have to be exact, precise?
Does everything have to have meaning?
Does everything have to possess a form?
Is anything perfect?
Does everything exist?
Does nothing exist?
Is anything real? Or is everything just an illusion created by our restless minds, our souls? Is everything just a dream?
Is there a parallel universe where we exist? Not we, yet we. Altered us.
Does the quantum theory exist?
How did everything come into being?
We come from energy. Where does energy come from?
Why is a laptop a laptop? Who formed the language?
Words seem different after a while. Unnatural.
It happens to everyone.
Is anyone actually really unique, really special?
Out of the billions in the world, there has to be at least one MORE person who thinks like you, acts like you.
Facebook pages prove it, don't they?
Things that everyone thought was their own special little thing, their pet fetish, their pet OCD. And then there is a fan page, and thousands of people had the same thought as you.
Disturbing?
No.
Snuff videos are disturbing.
Taking life from a body for entertainment is disturbing.
Why not kill yourselves if it is so amusing?
That would be doubly more amusing. More fun. Because then you not only watch and hear and smell the pain, you actually feel it. You can taste it. It is like a 3D pain.
Requiem for a Dream is disturbing.
Brilliant, yet disturbing.
It shows how people are so weak, so helpless, so gullible and naive.
How a lifeless drug can take over them and become the boss of them.
How a stupid letter can fool you and pull you into an obsession with losing weight, an obsession with getting a high, fitting into a dress.
Enough to give away your respect, yourself. Give yourself away to humiliation and cheap thrills. For others. For a lifeless drug.
People are strange.
That, incidentally, is a song. By The Doors.
Their frontman, Jim morrison, was another one of those^^
Another one of those helpless people. Gave away to acid and other thrills.
Is their ability to enjoy reality so weak that they require synthetic, artificial means of attaining any enjoyment? As a mean of broadening their mind? Of opening up their creative horizons?
Are their human means so terrible that they cannot do it for themselves?

Enough of judging others. I'm not perfect. Nobody is.
So maybe I should start saying "we" and not "they."
Though it IS much easier and much more convenient to blame others and belittle them, all the while considering yourself to be some sort of superpower, some super being.
Isn't that hypocritical? To judge others for actions committed by yourself?
I'm a hypocrite.
So are you.
But I know it.
Do you?
(that was NOT meant to rhyme. It is just a freakish coincidence :P )

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass MUST be read. They are NOT children books, though children would enjoy them too. Anyone up to the age of 90 id fit enough to read them. And everyone SHOULD. Lewis Carroll was genius.
His books are genius.
His humour is ALSO genius, as is his use of language and creativity.
Plus, no one can be more random than him, yet being immmensely logical at the same time.
Read.

I now endeavour to write an essay on the above mentioned novels. The sad thing about writing essays on and analysing books is, it ruins the charm of the book for you, turning into work instead.

Good night :)
Rather, good morning :D

Welham.

I miss Welham. Welham. Where you could be free and walk around wherever you wanted, whenever you wanted. Where you were free. Open. Where you didn’t worry. Worry about how you looked. About what you were wearing. Where people didn’t bully you or discriminate on the basis of looks or money. Or on any basis at all. Where all that mattered was what you were, who you were. Where everyone was crazy, everyone was herself. Where you actually took part in things, explored your interests. Welham, where co curriculars were a hobby, something you enjoyed and not something that had to be done. That school, which made you who you were, made you find yourself.
I know all of you, the woodies, bullies, flies, hoopoes and orioles, I know you all hate this school. So did I. I cursed it while I was there. I hated it. It suffocated me. It felt like jail. But it’s when you lose something that you realise its worth. When I was there, all I could think about was leaving the school. Now that I’ve left, all I want is to come back, to be a Woodie again, to be Satkund or Kundu. To be crazy and free. To laugh. To be retarded. To be weird. To be myself. To not care about how I look or what I’m wearing. Clothes never mattered. Everyone wore the same.
Welham was where your matron was a matron, someone to look after you and your poor blistered feet. The one who would pity you and allow you half an hour more of sleep every morning. The ones who took every headache in the mornings. Every little cut. The ones who stayed up at nights, waiting for their wards to sleep.
Where house mistresses were the parents, the supervisors. The ones who made you love your house and instilled in you a fire to win, to make your house proud, to make your house superior. It was the place where teachers understood children, where they practiced discipline, yet made us so much more comfortable.
It was the place that taught me the value of money. The value of food. The value of friends. Of people. The place where I made my friends for life. Where you lived in a family. Where you used to go “home” after an outing.
Where you valued your parents. Meeting your parents was the most exciting thing that could happen. After, of course, the coming of any human of the opposite gender. Where you learnt the value of home, of your parents.
It was suffocating. It was boring. It was restricting. Yet, isn’t that what made us come up with more modes of recreation, more ways of entertaining ourselves? Isn’t that what made us bond and live as a family. The reason why we knew everything about each other, right from each others undergarments to family histories to holidays to deep, dark secrets. Isn’t that why we talked so much? Why we had so much fun? Why we used to go running at night, playing ringa ringa roses to ringa ringa ringa? Isn’t that why we were so much more creative, so much more productive?
Welham made me who I am. And I think I like me. I see people around me now. And I dread at the thought of what I would have been had I not gone to that school. I would not have had the right to proudly say, “I’m from Welham.” To proudly assert myself as a Welhamite.
It is this school, the BIG mistake of my life, that I miss this school. That I miss the woodies.
The woodies. :)
The best part of school. The most missed part of school. The part that made school tolerable and enjoyable while I was there. I miss gauree and her conversion of everyone and everything into a “loser” or gay. Pragya’s twisted existence, in the literal sense and her “maarongi” when we made fun of her for being Louie the machhar. Srishti and her obsession with perfumes and crude humour. Milari’s general wildness and her lectures, corrupting our eager, innocent minds. Medha, with her general grace and amazing voice. The all rounder. The stud. Yet the inventor of the “medha dance.” Kriti with her daily, or should I say, nightly milkman joke, which no one ever got bored with, even after hearing it every night in aiiis. The responsible one. Tejaswi, the quiet, silent one, content with herself. Chandrika. Chandrika. The bitch, yet the child. The crazy one, with retarded ideas and hyper actions. Chandrika, totally defined by her name. With her and and curly hair which lost erasers in them. Yuthika, with her ready dimpled smile and her crushes on ALL guys, no matter how visually appealing they might be. Tanvi. The mad one. The motherly one. The grandmotherly one. The crazy one. The one who acted like a lesbian, all in jest, and did crochet all day long, with her slow, nice smile . The ganwar one from Aligarh, where no boys existed. She was best friends with the vice president of India. Srishti. The quiet one, who remained content with herself and the books. Quiet and sweet. A constant presence. Shivika. “ae mera dil” was her favourite song and she sang it and danced to it whenever she could. Tomboy turned girl, she was the basketball freak, the worshipper of Mr. Vaichhani. Seher. The craziest of all. Thinking of the retard-ness of woodies, seher is the first one to come to her mind. With her ganwar imitation of anything said by anyone. Her horniness and obsession with sexy boys. Yet one of the nicest, sweetest people in the dorm. Snehal. Sway girl. The nerd of the dorm, the one who had a horrible sense of humour, yet was adorably funny in her attempts. The one who didn’t bathe for 21 days during exams. The one who’d go to iit. Last, shreyasi. Her obsession with straight hair and her housewife routines, where I was always her beaten about and dumb kid. Her catwalking and acting in the dorm, with her slutty trials and failures. Her fail at crushing on any REAL, existent guy and her constant love with movie and tv stars. Yet her sensitive self, which cried at any small insult or rude word.
These were the woodies. Each with their own, particular characteristics. Each one totally different. I can’t express here how they actually were. They were people worth knowing, people worth living with. They were my family. They were my friends. Friends that I know will last for life.
This is Welham for me. My home. That place that I would always remember. The peaceful drum room and piano room, which I felt were mine. The beauty of the school. The peace. The silence. Welham was my haven. The happiest place in the world. Leaving it was the biggest mistake f my life. Yet Welham doesn’t deserve regret, it deserves nostalgia and memories, memories of happiness. I love Welham, and forever will I be a Welhamite.

Rhyme of another summer afternoon...

Comptine d'un autre été l'après-midi... Rhyme of another summer afternoon...
A soundtrack from the movie Amelie, it is one of the most beautiful pieces I've ever heard.
There is a sense of solemnity in it, yet a strange kind of happiness, a sort of contentment. The music talks to me... And I'm exhilarated.
I've been listening to it on repeat since yesterday and I feel like listening to nothing else. It makes me happy. It makes the world seem mysterious, yet beautiful. Sorrowful and solemn, yet happy. Quiet, yet so loud...
I think of a quiet afternoon, in the rain, just sitting by the window, slight drops of rain brushing on my skin. It is raining, yet the sun shines. :)
There are birds flying, everything is colourful and bright. The colours are enhanced. Yet it rains. A happy sort of rain. The kind that lights you up from inside :)
There's something very quiet and solemn, something very lonely about the music. It is my mind, the peace in my mind. My companionship. With myself.. Yet my feelings of exhilaration and peace... It is me. Yet it is someone else...
Piece of advice from me - Listen to it. Here's the youtube link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ei7e4UohjhA
:)

Dear Prudence.....

Dear Prudence,
Just yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. When I was younger, so much younger than today, I never needed anybody's help in any way. But I'm just a nowhere man. I get by with a little help from my friends. You know I work all day to get money to buy you things, and tonight Mr. Kite is topping the bill. Tell me you want the kind of things that money just can't buy. Let me take you down, cos i'm going to strawberry fields. Babe you can drive my car, you'll let me hold your hand.
I look at you, see the love there that's sleeping, I look for the girl with the sun in her eyes. I can hear them say, hey, you've got to hide your love away. It's getting better all the time. Don't let me down, please. Remember, I'll always be true.
Silly people run around, they worry me. Got me escaping from this zoo. But we all live in a yellow submarine, in an octopus' garden in the shade. Words are flowing out, like an endless rain into a paper cup. Somebody spoke and i went into a dream. The man of a thousand voices talking perfectly loud, the Magical Mystery Tour was waiting to take me away. I wake up to the sound of music, everyone you see is half asleep. Pretty little policemen sitting in a row. There is a fireman with an hourglass. Helter skelter, back in the USSR.
Sounds of laughter shades of life, are ringing through my open ears. But still they lead me back to the long winding road. Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here. Try to realize its all within yourself.
With love from me to you,
Sgt. Pepper

Hitler vs Thakur? :S

The glee, the final surrender. The relief. That constant guilt off your shoulders.
That moment when you can listen to music again, freely, happily, joyfully.
When you can read a book, enjoy it, and just read it, not try to learn it up, to frantically absorb it in those little grey things, like forms of black and white. Black on white. Small print. Big paper.
When there's no tension. The frightful word. Overbearing, bossy. The superior word, that takes over everything else. Like an egyptian pharaoh. Or Hitler.
It doesn't actually take over everything. It actually is like Hitler. It tortures you. It takes over your complete body. It kills those little jews of happiness and freedom and leaves concentration camps behind (pun intended :P). Yet. YET. It doesn't have complete control does it? ;)
You have those little inglorious basterds in you, those little, rebellious things that make you watch movies and sneak in a few laughs here and there. Don't you? Don't we all? :D
But it's finally when the USA and Englands of surrender and triumph finally come in, the completion, when Hitler finally kills himself. As does tension. And there you are again, free, happy and joyful :)
Free to listen to music. Free as slaves after the American Civil War.
Free to read. free to watch. Free to talk. Free to play. FREE.
Free as a bird. Free as the stars, the galaxies.
Though it's more like being as free as the planets. There's freedom. Roam around all you want, yet you're tied down to the sun, to the ground, to authority. To parents. To rules. To no ipods. *sigh*
Why are there rules? They're so confining, so limiting. How will we ever know what it is to be free?
Even if we were, would we be really free? Does real freedom even exist? We might still be tied away somewhere in our minds. Like Thakur(from sholay). So maybe we can just chop off our arms, and thus get freedom? :S
Maybe not. :P
Ah well, I'm going to go look for freedom. And not going to find it.
(I'm in Boarding school. *whisper: there are no ipods here*)
Anyway, good look to all of you. If you find it, do let me know how :)

The Ballad of Sir Curly Tail :P

They saw the boy, standing in the park
He looked at the others, feeling dark
He saw a dog, heard the lonely bark,
His heart was scarred, oh such a deep mark!

He stood alone, lonely and shy
The other boys, playing thief and spy
He looked up, at the dark, blue sky
And he saw, that pigs could fly!

"Look!" he shouted, loud and clear
His mind instilled, delighted with fear
The others came close, by and near
And followed his hand, to the sight so queer

The pigs were flying, in a neat little line
They flapped their wings, so white and fine
They were pink and chubby, all the nine
The boy wished to say, "They're all mine!"

He stretched out his hand, far and out
His mind had not even a trace of doubt
The others looked, not knowing what its about
And then they all gave a sudden shout

The boy had four legs, short and pink
They had changed, in the time of a blink
They did not know, what even to think
And then they smelt that horrible stink

The boy became small, he flew far and away
The curly pink tail, so happy, so gay
The boy finally happy, or as it may
He had finally found his friends, with who he could play.

Away they flew, in the dark and the blue
Where they were going he had no clue
Yet it was an experience, so entirely new
And so he went, as they flew and they flew.


Boredom kills. Rhyming is fun. :)
Being a kid is fun. :)
Writing childish poems about little pigs is even more fun. :)
Hehe.

"We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."

I don't understand. Do people like being unhappy? Do they like wallowing in depression, in self pity? What sort of pleasure can self pity give any one?
Feeling sorry for yourself, pondering over how miserable life is, about how you can't handle things. I understand the situation, the misery of the person, but honestly, wouldn't it be a way better, happier option to just be happy? Accept life. Shit happens. Life can suck. it can be unfair. Stop pondering over it! Get a life! Don't waste it or it'll be gone before you know it and all that will be left will just be a shit load of REGRET.
yet is it really all that easy?
Is it?
I don't know. I don't think so. Maybe it is. Or maybe it isn't.
Can I really answer the question?
No.
I can't.
But pretty much, it's tough. Very tough.
Life can kill you. Yes, ironic isn't it?
LIFE can KILL you. Maybe nto physically. But I'm not even talking about your "heart" or your stomach or intestines. I'm taking about your MIND. About your soul. About what lies beneath all that hypocrisy and poseur-ism (?). Or maybe what just lies inside. Life can kill it, can;t it?
Sometimes it can.
The ones who wallow in self pity, depression and misery, they're easily the most vulnerable, the most innocent. Life gets them first. And it gets them hard.
It tempts them into more and mroe self pity, till that is all that remains. It devours all the happiness, all the joy, the hope. It devours it, till all that remains is regret, depression and SELF PITY.
Get over it.
There's life all around you. Happy faces. What if they were all the same, wallowing in their miseries. Where would the happiness be? Would the word eventually cease to exist? A fantasy word in ancient books?
Look at the happy faces. The smiles. The smirks. The hugs. :)
That's what life is.
Look at those smiles. Fprget the tears.
It's the smiles that get you by, not the tears.
It's the smiles that give you hope.
It's the smiles that make you think, "Hell, i can do this!"
It's the smiles that make you smile back.
Smile. :)
And who am I to morally lecture all those self pitiers everywhere?
I do it, too. Everyone does it. It's a trap. A very convenient trap. The easy way out.
Pity yourself. Gain sympathy. Might feel good. But does it really?
Nah.

There's tension eating me up. All over my insides. In my head. My hands. even my toes. Time flies.
And I'm filled with dread.
I'm filled with dread. The same me who was happy and smiling during the boards, content with the lack of preparation, the same me thinking, "I'll manage."
And now it's the same, yet slightly different, panicky me thinking, "There's a month left and I'm going to fail!"
Yes. School does that to you. Parents do that you.
Panic.
Pressure.
pain.
Laziness.
Tension.
Stress.
Worry.
All of it. All school. Dreams. Goals. The FUTURE as its called.
We all spend our lives thinking about the future that we miss it as it passes us by.
In Kindergarten: I want to become a teenager.
Reenager: study and get into a good college
College: study and get a good job
Job: get a promotion. Find a spouse.
Marriage: kids. Money. Etcetera etcetera
And it goes on.
In all this tension about the future, did we just forget to live right now, in the present?
I know I'm slowly losing it. I think of: College, jobs, money...
Money.
That's the evil, isn't it?
It eats you up. It kills you. It ruins you. IT EATS UP YOUR MIND.
That's what it does.
Everything we do, it's for money isn't it?
And the irony is.. We spend money educating ourselves so that we can apply that education and earn money. :P
Isn't it a vicious circle?
Everything's a vicious circle.
What came first?
The chicken or the egg?Can anybody really answer it?
It's a vicious circle.
You just have to smile through it. Kick it in the groin. Tell it to fuck off :)
Have fun. Headbang. Listen to music. Go swim. Watch friends. Hang out with friends. Crack lame jokes. Live your life, not other people's.
Live life. :)

Cos in the end, isn't that all that really matters?