Sunday, June 26, 2011

Dear Ryan,

Do you remember the time when we'd dress up and pretend to be movie stars, pop stars.. rockstars?
Or the time when we'd draw out little story boards on paper for Our version of the movies we didn't like and those that we did? 
Or the time when we'd use deo bottles as mike and sing songs of love with such passion?
That was the plan, right?

Do you remember the bizarre things I'd tell you?
I'd tell you how I was not going to do the whole long-gown thing for the red carpet. I'd tell you how I was going to show up in leather pants with pointy red heels that would bring out my ass, along with the colour of my eyes. I'd tell you to wear a plum blazer with baggies, for some reason. I'd tell you we'd make a statement. They'd think we are lovers. But we'd never clear the air when Simi would call us for a rendezvous, or even Oprah; because, 'lovers' didn't do it. 
"Just because we're barely 10 doesn't mean we don't feel as much", you'd tell me.

Do you remember the bizarre things you'd tell me?
You'd tell me how we'd walk into a restaurant and people would stop eating to witness our grand entry. You'd tell me how each of our many moves was going to be as precious as timeless art. You'd tell me that we weren't ordinary. You'd tell me that we were different; we were magic! You'd tell me that we'd make our way through the very expensive restaurant, take our seats and lose ourselves in conversations; conversations not about the work that's got us all that we have, but conversations about us. You know? Because we'd still be the humble souls in touch with our roots. 
"You'd still just order cheese pizza and coke, idiot!", I'd tell you.
You'd never disagree.

We thought we'd be rockstars! 
We never saw any reason to believe otherwise.
We were certain of the applause we'd get. We were certain of the autographs we'd sign.
We were certain that we won't tour too much.
Only Paris, maybe.
And New York. And China.
I'd planned to trick you into touring Korea too. You never wanted to go back to your roots, apparently! It was always Delhi for you. And people would think a Korean kid has it hard away from home. 

Such grand plans.
Then came 2004.
You died.

I wonder what you'd think of me now?
Of my right choices or the sheer dearth of them. 
Of each smoke curl that escapes my parted lips.
Of my excessive drinking.
Of each time I say anything. Or think it.
You're probably a rockstar in Heaven now - however fantastically foolish that sounds - and you're probably building up anticipation in our audience about my arrival.
A good thing, that.

Anyway, I write this to tell you that'd someday I might get to see you again.
Someday I might get to touch you again.
Someday I might have your breath in sync with mine again.
Someday, that's not today.
Today, I found a picture of you.
I burnt it.
In my defence, you left me alone.


Wednesday, June 15, 2011

The Slow Life.

I have always maintained how I hate travelling. However, that shouldn't be misconstrued to believe that I don't like taking a vacation. Only, my idea of a vacation operates on one sole objective : 
To Be Able To Lead The Slow Life.

I HATE the journey part in general, sometimes. After the talking, singing, leg pulling is done, I take high medications that make me sleep straight through about 10hrs of my life on the bus/train and other fancy modes of transport. I hate having to get up in the morning to go out trekking or sight-seeing or some such. Vacations are meant for chilling; for long baths, breathing, sleeping, lazing around, getting high, eating -- C.H.I.L.L.I.N.G.
I seem to be the only person getting that. Anyway, having gone most of my life being used to getting my way, I find my ways of 'chilling' even when I go out of the city with my tourist-like-travel-crazy friends. Yawn.

So I really have nothing substantial to report or discuss or post for the simple reason that I am still in the flow of The Slow Life from the hills. But of course, it would be a little silly on my part to think that the hangover of the same would last long. What is even more of a buzz kill is the sudden outburst of one million albums of the trip. I think pictures of me are going to take over the damn Facebook and humanity will be restored at last. Now I know how superhero(in)es are born. Even though they made me walk paths I wouldnt even have looked at at because of their sheer height and angles, my little getaway was worth it. Now if only Delhi wasnt so fuckin' hot.
It rained yesterday though :)

Talking of pictures and my lack of substantiality, I leave you with nothing but a subtle toast to the trip that was, my inner peace that's going to run its course soon, the Slow Life and an almost-picture of self from the trip.

Of Funny Pants, Lots of Walking, Intoxication, Lots Of Walking, 'Joint' Accounts, lots of Walking, Yummy Eating, Lots of walking, Pictures, Lots of Walking, Monks (Old Monk and Otherwise), Lots of Walking, Hippie Love, Lots of Walking, Paradise Weather, Lots of Walking, People I Love, Lots of Walking, Butters, Lots of Walking...

Mcleodganj. ♥
Summer '11

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Sexual Innuendos.

When you meet someone after really long, there's always this little void that exists between both parties. The void grows stronger with time. 
The void becomes strongest with sexual history...

"Hey... long time... How you doing?"
"Oh! Hi. I've been okay... you? Got yourself a car, I heard. Congratulations!...

Amidst the awkward conversation among other things, my forsaken tattoo decides to peep out from under my sleeve:

-" You gotta tattoo? You were never a tattoo person back in the day!"
Back in the day was when I was 15 and he was about 20.
-"Yeah... things change, right?"
*awkward laugh*
-"Show mee??"
-"No.. Be satisfied with just this. I'm not giving away the whole thing"
*trying to sound/look smug*
-"Not the whole thing, eh? Still?"
- :|
-"Haha.. I'll see ya around, kid? Been a while! Gotta hit the gym now. Bye"

It's going to be  some summer.