I seek it,

why?

I hide my tail

and my crap.

Waiting for you

to leave

Do not push yourself there. There will be no recuperation without cost and nothing would make up for all the lost years.

Also, I happened upon some teens making out in public. A twang goes inside me. I miss it. I miss being a teenager and fooling around.. probably because I did that too little, and that I consciously pulled myself out of it. Then a realization dawned.

This is how my train of thoughts went:

I would of course not enjoy anything like this now, its an irreversible thing. A regret? Perhaps yes. The past me pulled myself out of it and did something else which leads to me being me today. Now, this present me does miss what the past me did not do. On same lines, had I done what I missed doing, I would have not been nearly as successful as I am today.

Now, what would I have done in that past, along with seeds of success that I sowed, to have been happier today?

Nothing much really.

I have been lonely because I never compromised intellectual companianship for making out. 

On same lines what should I do now, while continuing working on my path to success, to make sure I don’t regret not doing anything today?

Other than materialities, I have an intellectual companian, and I love her, I will regret if I ever spoil this. I will spend time building upon this relation ship. I love her.

Just after the joining, optimist, new-begginingist, it was all Don McLean for me. Pure, “full of goodness”.

Then slowly, things started being more real. At work and at HoneyLand. Deviating from music, I could aptly resonate with Micheal from Prison Break. All the burden of world, somehow manage to fight the most urgent of fires with luck and mind, but a continous feeling of being conspired against.

Then there were phases.. Laura Marling phase, repetitive german rock phase, right now its like Ottis Redding – Sitting on the dock of the bay.

But I cannot sit still, need to get moving.. need to fight.. fight some more.

To tell the truth the fighting spirit has comeback due to the “Training” last November.

I have failed my exams equivalent to high school. It was the subject Hindi, me or someone else on my behalf protests to the exams committee. I/we get a chance to talk to the examiner.
We are at his home, me and another girl (a girl with angel-like features). The examiner, an un-understandable hindi guy with some sense of authority, tells me to look at my paper and find out descrepencies. I find out lot of problems overall and start with problems in English stuff written in Hindi paper where I deserved marks but did not get any.
When I point this out, the examiner starts to act funny, and boom.. things turn animated, literally as in a cartoon. The examiner turns into a sort of a monster, he seems to have his sights on the angel girl with me, who becomes even more angelic in the animation and I begin to transform, there is ‘Ghostbusters’ music playing around me, I imagine I will transform into one of the four heros. I slowly transform.. into Slimer. I am simply afraid of the monster and try to take cover behind the angel.
Then a voiceover, thank god there was a passing policeman on routine patrol that day that the two were saved.

Am I fooling myself in saying I took the high road while all I did was act on cowardly instincts? Perhaps not cowardly, lonely.

I am sorry if I have wronged you, I am bound by my duties.

Two days back I dreamt of you. We were walking down some street, it was a mix of Hong Kong and our old office street. We were close. We felt close. We were looking for the right place and right tattoo for you. And we kiss. A small, expressive kiss. Then you made a gesture, reminding me. I pause, then shrug, and then kiss you once more. Then we find the tattoo place. It was hazy then, did I leave you there, did I wait for you outside? Was I there by your side?

Let me be truthful to myself, if not anyone else. I love you. I feel pathetic telling this, but thats the truth.

Bound by habits, the interpretation: Hong Kong: our first secret. Tattoo: You. The uncertainty: present.

I awoke to the sound of rock. And that of my wife complaining about it. I don’t blame her about it, the decibel level was above red and hard rock is not a very good music to wake up to. So I go out to my bro’s room to shut it down. Turns out he was playing the music at max only to wake me, so that he can shave in my our room. ‘No ways’.

She was having a wet dream. ‘You don’t have any wife or girlfriend, do you?’ ‘I have a husband, but won’t he have work to do?’ Ohh.. Umm..

I am pissed off, I try to talk to her about it but she shrugs it off. How can she??? I am angry.

Was this a dream? Did it really happen?

We are at a railway station now, I am the only male spouse bidding good bye; she is the only girl in this team of guys going on an apparently glamorous assignment. My mother is also there. As we wait for the train, the anxiety and uncertainty and anger about that wet dreams chews on me. Then out of nowhere does comes an old friend. She has come in a car and everyone’s attention is on her. I tease her, ‘so you can drive!’ , she ignores/pretends to ignore me. Everyone , especially my mother, is amazed by her (and her car). I fail to see why. But I see that the car is upside down but she is still driving and it is pulling through..

I think I know what it means. But I am going to keep the garbage of my uncollected thoughts out.

But the word ‘unfortunately’ above is premature, although the dreams have been deep, I intended a lot more of my excess baggage with them, writing things as I want them to be, not as they are.

Let me try and be more non-judgemental here onwards.

Now I am climbing the stairs of a familiar place, my old-old apartment building (the last to last, where I grew up). But when I reach the floor where I used to live, I am confused about whether I wanted to come here or to my last home. I am even more confused when the door of this place has elements of both, this home and the home I lived last. Fear. Some unexplained fear and anxiety. I ring the bell. Again notice the door, it’s familiar-and-yet-not-familiar-in-this-form design frightens me and I run back downstairs..

Since past few months I have been dwelling into the past, trying to find out how did I land up here, how come I am how I am and explanations for my deeds. Am I afraid to go further down and explore the real me? It seems I should explore the times spent when I was in the first house (why is ‘home’ hard to come for this?).