[I] SEEK NO MOKSHA

When in Bullet Time, you have to steer corners at an angle 50 degrees lower than you normally would. That is how the game is played.
But what's interesting to note is that when you're playing this game, your senses are jammed with insecurity. That the whole world is plotting against you, your car, and Mia. You're leading by a good 4 seconds when unexpectedly, the final right turn has been made sharper in the final lap, and a shortcut introduced. So that while you panic seeing it and pull off a fucked up bullet time turn, the others take the shortcut to glory, the pink slip, and Mia's pants.
Then you get expressive. Unlike the last decade of your life, where you have had to make do with chocolate truffle.
If you're anything like me, you're already in the whirlpool of love. You'll press the circle button to restart. Your life has been completely changed by this game, and you cannot let this go now. You'll kneel to play until you win. And then you'll play some more. When Mia's yours.

Today, I feel like taking it off the track, into a lay bye. I want to get out but Mia's shapeshifted into a seatbelt that locked on the last corner I cut. The worst part is that I believe she doesn't lie and that I'm not just another thing she can or cannot do without.

It had been a good year without all this adulteration.
This, my friends, is the final lap. Everything else, is dust and air.

9XM chooses this time to play Dilli-6. I vow to be happy. Goodbye, Delhi.

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I’m going to be very clear and straight. I hate Gurgaon. In the eight months that I have spent in the corporate, and here, a devil has taken over the most integral part of me. I have stopped thinking about us – my people. I have stopped caring; I have become indifferent and cold. It’s like a machine running my conscience.

There’s a reason I call this machine a devil. It’s because of an unforgiving behavior like that of quicksand. Your fight to excel inevitably becomes your struggle to survive. You cannot dare take a friend’s hand or you’ll drag him in too.

To me it seems like a classic case of giving up. People come here from places that taught them to care, cherish what they had. But the hunger for success and climbing the ladder becomes so primary, that they stop wanting to care. The tendency of going back home every weekend dies out eventually. Maybe because we’re cold, maybe because after a 5(6) day week, we calculate that spending time, money, energy and morality at the local sports bar is more profitable than the shackles of mumma’s love that is bound to make you look weak when you don’t want to leave heaven for hell, but its Sunday night already.

You want to throw up on this thought. You try to make Friday (Saturday) nights at Howzzat! /TGIF/CTC look like fun nights. You make yourself agree that you’re having the best times of your life because you’d rather be wrong and happy than alone. When in fact, this is the best..err.. The only thing you’ve got.

Last night after very minor resistance from my end, she left the place.
If I were in Chandigarh, I can bet my balls, I’d never have let that happen. Now I realize I have no remorse. I like that I snuffed the old me and had a great time. The point is I never, for the whole night, thought how she must have felt on driving back home alone (hell, she didn’t even know the way back!), what she went through facing her dad who had clearly stated if she was to come back, she better not be alone.
I just focused on my share of the fun.

If I say it wasn’t me, but the devil that is Gurgaon/Corporate, it’ll be no better than the time Ross tugged his weenie between his legs and cried, “Mommy I’m a girl! Take me with you!”

The stars have set on that feeling of temporary joy as I like to call it. Single Serving Joy, if you ask Chuck ‘The Cult’ Palahniuk. You look at your soul. Fluid. The color of water. And now I can say I’ve been there. The devil is so well rooted now, that you are addicted to the pain. What you’ll never do is, make an effort to uproot this phenomenon. Because that would not be routine. And you could get late for office. And then you’d have to stay longer than the stipulated 3 hour overtime that pays zilch. Which means you’ll be late for the Friday nights or maybe not even make it at all.

Now that’s a terrifying thought. You miss your only high point of the week, where you get to have fun at the cost of a friend’s. So basically, don’t try to get off road, carefree, childlike and pure. It’s like Rock music. You may deem it to be the crudest form of expression; it’ll always stay a symphony of the bad guy up there.

I’ll get to the point I made in the beginning. All this text is about me. 90 percent of the sentences start with an ‘I’. That’s what Gurgaon does to you. What corporate does to you.
Oh wait, Should I tug my weenie between my inner thighs and scream now?

The good thing that has come out of all this is that I have finally promised people around that I’ll deliver better, on time and with the minimum damage possible.

I am hopeful. Are you?

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XY:it's weird,u know.
XX: what is? that ur a close match to the guy i wanna go out with, nd still we're not together?
XY: NO. that's complex. so complex that i'd rather sky dive than try to think of an explanation for it. pataa ni.
XX: it's nt that complex. think bout it nd tell me tomorrow. Abhi, I gotta go.

You know what? I think I knew the reason already, but i dint say it because of the only reason I don't say things: I wasn't sure.
She gave me one night to think about it. I could be sure. Although I knew I had the whole next day to "Think about it". But it was agony i couldn't prolong.
Down to the reason, however.

I have always had this feeling that bandiyaan think I'm over ready for a thing as delicate as a relationship. That I'll smother her if we go out. That the intensity will ruin both our lives.
They're right, and not because they're ladies, but because I agree.

But the point is not why I’m not ready, or over-ready. The point is why would she hold back when she's been talking to a guy she could go out with, for so long. This was what I gave my whole night to.
I couldn't zero in on the perfect answer, but I short listed 4 most probable.
PLEASE REMEMBER: Even God can't fathom what goes on inside a woman.
But ‘He’ tried in the following lines :D

1. Pyar ke side effects
She's been committed passionately, completely, and religiously once. And she's been out of it. She may deny it, but I think she's scared of her next boyfriend being what her ex was. She doesn't want to dig into ice cream tubs again. Even though they're low-fat.

2. The career woman in her holds back.
It's not love I see. It's like she can forecast a flowchart: Girl goes out-is happy-but not focussed-1 year later, she ends up heartbroken, and not an IAS.
The thought scares her so much that she goes Hollywood...If the guy can't wait an year, I’ll wait. For another guy :P

3. All men are fuckin' pigs.
When you're talking to a girl for over 2 years (1 yr out of which she's been single) and still not going out, bells ring. And if you're one of her very very few male friends, the logic is inevitable. It has to be one out of:
1. All men are fuckin' sex starved pigs.
2. You're her gay teddy bear.

I'd turn my suicide note into real, if it's the latter. Right now.

4. I'm not just there. And never will be.
I started this thing with a dialogue about me being a "close match....". Is that the catch? I mean there's always been this "you-are-just-a-friend-sumit-and-I-want-to-talk-to-you (but-ur-so-ugly-I've-never-ever-thought-of-going-out-with-you) thing running up and down my brain cell membranes.



Is this true? Is it true that maybe I AM her gay teddy bear?
*wide-eyed-can't-believe-it-expression*

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Contract Conditions - Any out of: hire/lease/rent/any other (Please Specify)

Prerequisites/ Qualities I am looking for :

1. She be talkative as hell.
I am not much of a talker, and that’s because I stutter and feel embarrassed to open my screwed up mouth when I talk. I’d be glad if she did most of the talking. I know it’s selfish and all, but hey, check out the picture alongwith!

2. She be funny.
Actually all I need is that she be having a good sense of humor. My PJs can be the worst level of sickness, and if you can’t handle it, you’re gonna bail anytime. I won’t want that.

3. She be practical.
If you need an explanation for this, you’re not her.

4. She NOT be gay.
Wasn’t this, like very obvious!??!

5. She should NOT demand a reason for every, actually, make that “Any” kiss.
I’m a lip virgin (Crash… there goes my popularity) and I’m not sure of what advances a man has to make to successfully start a kiss. I’d be grateful if I had lessons on it. And if I have to give out a reason why I wanna kiss you at the restaurant, I’m expecting myself to bail out.

6. She should NOT feel molested if I swear.
Ofcourse I’d be a dick-head if I swear on her. I grant her full rights to embarrass me in public if I ever do that. I don’t do that. But if I’m like fucked up and all, and let out scary swears, I expect her to be in the zone and not make it the break-point of our contractual (or otherwise) relationship.

7. She should NOT be a timebomb
Being a bomb is cool. It’s sexy. But being a timebomb.. I mean like “I gotta go. Got some work. I can be here only till 12.” Then its awwwn-awwwn-awwwn [I write alarm sounds like that]. Seriously, if you’re with me, be with me girl! If I’m boring you to blast, tell me before u blast. I’d not do that the next time.

8. She should NOT ruin my life for not quitting smoking.
I can handle rants, I can reason my way out of rants. But when u sound like I’m on the penultimate stage of cancer, it doesn’t make an impact. I’d not even listen. I’m not kidding.

9. She be comfortable with comfortable silences.
You know those times when you are on a date, and you have a lot to talk, or don’t have a lot to talk, but you would wanna spend a lot more time with him/her. You should be able to do that. Without feeling the urge to constantly blabber on.

10. Sex*




* Conditions Apply : The 10th point is applicable only when the contract is “hire”. ‘Cuz in that case, I’m paying for all of this (thru dates, or cash! It’s the same for me.), so I might just go shed it. What’s the big deal? If I can stoop down to this level. I might just stoop down a little bit more.


IN THE END.
Actually all I stated above isn’t a requisite at all. If you can mean the magic words, and say them.
Only if I could be wanted. Only if I mattered. Only if I were special to someone and reciprocate.
How despo and unwanted am I? Comments invited. If I din’t force you to read it, that is. Hehe.

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This is the end, my only friend, the end
– The Doors.

No, this doesn’t go out to Chetan Bhagat, and I’m not popping one sleeping pill with every fullstop I add to this text.

I have a different way of living, well in this case, dying. I have always loved smoking a Cuban, and sipping away at an on-the-rocks peg of Chevas Regal, while I write. Or do anything else.
I was short on cash, [no, that’s not a reason I’m saying bye-bye to the world] so I have to make do with vodka and cigarettes today. And No, you can’t kill yourself by sipping vodka and smoking cigarettes while writing. But that’s not all I’m doing.

I have a jar of Benedryl, and a half full (this is a sad text, so I should have said half-empty, but what the fuck, right?) bottle of vodka. Yes... there’s the twist.
But I have a plan B. If I’m still conscious after finishing this text and my jar-bottle combo, I’ll go the old fashioned way. I have always been stuck between choosing the ultra modern or the uniquely classic.

So, here’s my suicide letter to the world. That is, if anyone cares.

Hello World,
I am Sumit Sharma, and I have to tell you this, cuz no-one else would. No actually, no one else could tell you my name cuz no one else knows. I’m that guy who would become famous, but only in his own house, and for a few seconds, and only when something goes wrong. And when it concerns me, it has usually gone wrong terribly, and irreversibly. So I seldom have any comebacks, or excuses. I usually accept my punishments and my boycotts as they come.
I have no regrets at this point of time, but that’s always been the case ever since my dad regretted wasting sperm 9 months before I was born. Yes, I am hopeless, and I know it and I accept it. I have to, it’s not like I have a choice you know. If you’re ugly, its right there… you have to accept it. The truth is shoved in your ass-like-face every morning by your own mirror. Or anyone else’s, doesn’t really matter. It’s the same with me. If you’re hopelessly pathetic, the world is your mirror. Everything you do, or try doing, or suck at doing, shoves the truth back into your fucked up brain. So after 21 years of taking that shit every single day, from every single one of your imaginary peers, (Yes, I have no friends. Yes, not even online.) and the things you bang your empty head into, you kinda get used to it, and you accept it. As I said, you don’t have much of a choice. It’s shoved right into your face.

I have faced reality for 21 years now, and I could have gone further and taken it for the other 2/3rd of my life too. But I think I’ve just taken the wisest decision of my life today. I’m going to end it. Not the decision, my life.
It actually is an attempt at making people notice. I want to voluntarily, and happily end my life, because no one ever has done that I guess. You’re either killed, or you kill yourself being fed up of something you can’t take any longer. Or you die naturally. You may be happy when you die naturally cuz old-age seems really fucked up to me, but I don’t think that’s voluntary. So, my point is… I am doing what no one else has ever done before… Killing myself, and being happy at the same time.
No, I don’t expect Guinness Book of World Records to register my feat, there’s another way people could notice me.
I feel so conducive to attracting rejections, that I’m pretty darn sure Life’ll reject my resignation letter too. But there’s nothing much It can do about it, cuz by the time it rejects it, I won’t be alive, and hence, out of its jurisdiction. Without a valid NOC from life, I guess, my after-death thing… anti-life, or whatever [Death isn’t the opposite of life. Read my previous post for that] will reject me too.
So I’m left hanging at a point, where I can enjoy my half alive-half dead-but-still-not-a-zombie existence. I could then take a print out of this letter, and flaunt it to the world at how cool I am. And maybe then, GBWR will register my feat.

PS: I’m not serious with anything I wrote above in the last 2 paragraphs, it was just an example of how hopelessly pathetic my brain, and my chain of thought is.

Sincerely Fucked Up,
Sumit Sharma.

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I have always wondered, (until I believed in all this crap, that is), where the directors of these low budget movies get their idea of hell as they show in ‘em movies. Lakes of Fire, Giant gunpowder balls that didn’t fit into the canon mouths hanging from thorny iron ropes ready to blast through you, as a sign of warming up welcome, swearing in caucus voices, an enigma of neverending adventure that surrounds you, and for the more creative ones, a golden thrown with its legs melted from being too long in the lake.

Later that I grew up, and didn’t believe in judgment day, and god and stuff, I still found myself using words like hell and paradise way too often. I was afraid of being called a hypocrite, so I thought it over. Hell for me isn’t the regular fiery area where the bad folks go when they die (-Nirvana). It, I believe is a place designed, created, and tailor-made to your own perspective. And to give it a real touch, unlike the movie–hell, you may have to go there even if you don’t deserve it. On the brighter side, it is not a permanent gig, living in there. People who choose to go there, are usually the ones who feel they deserve torment and find it the apt place to torture themselves without showing off.

These people make me proud of my definition; they make it the word for extreme self-malice. I even thought of a logo for the place… Razor Blades and water-filled balloon. Red Water. No, Black. Whatever. It is a place of null and void. Something that doesn’t exist. Or maybe a place of non-existence that does exist? Or of oblivion that I now nothing of.
Sahil ke 2 words : Pataa Nahin
Inspiration and Current Song: Lake of Fire, Nirvana

Oh and yea… Vande Mataram

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Date: August 5^th, 2007
Venue: My place
Occasion: We dint intend the Sunday to be Friendship Day, but it was some fuel to our plans.

Almost an year, and 5 reschedules later, we were finally getting ready to launch for one destination that had always eluded our gang... The fort pictured in one of the most inspiring movies (for me, atleast), Rang De Basanti.
For the uninitiated, the movie has shots of two different forts.. one is situated in Jaipur, Rajasthan. This is the RDB gang’s Classroom.
The other one, and my personal favorite, is the one where Ajay (R. Madhavan) proposes marriage to Sonia (Soha Ali Khan). This one’s in Doraha, Punjab.
Friends confirm about reaching my place, the plan is all set, and Deepak calls Jitin.. he aint coming. Whaddufuck, must have been the unanimous scream. I call him back while I wait for Jitin, Mohit and Arjun. After 1.52 minutes (that’s how long I can go with guys, with girls its an entirely different story, hehe!), I knew he won’t come. So it was Jitin’s car selected to bear the brunt. :D
Half an hour later we were riding Dakshin Marg after fueling up.
The journey showed me shades of Punjab, I remembered my roots, and finally decided I do miss being in Punjab among all the love and affection. Where everybody’s a brother or an uncle. [And the ladies are stunning. ;)] 2 hours and some minutes later, we were entering the fort from the rear entrance. With Khalbali hai Khalbali filing its bass in our eardrums, we knew the spirit of friendship, patriotism and more… was gonna gush into our body, mind and soul. So it did.
I could picture the fort’s magnificence as it would have stood in the times before independence. It did retain its magic till now. I’ve gotta rush right now, so I leave u with the pics.
Enjoy and Envy!

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Today might not be the day. Maybe even tomorrow isn’t. But a day will come when the sun will set on your temporary joy. You’ll be wasted. There is no hope. There’s no light emanating from the little space below the cracked wooden door that shuts you off from the brighter shade of everything in this world. You’re ineligible for anything good. Your platter does not match the ones accepted in the society. You wont be served leftovers. You’ll fight among others like you to gain control of the fanciest trashcan. The one with the maximum amount of leftover food. So that you can take a day off when others of your lot fight it out once again. Your situation will change your character. You will no longer share. You will no longer wish luck for anyone. You will no longer be noticed. You will no longer be called. Not when you’re sick. Not when you’re dead. Your bones will be corrupted.. right down to the marrow. You’ll feel your head, for once. Fucked too long. With used grease and cheap lubricants. You will watch words like friendship and care tear by the seam and not shed a tear. Your aims lie in dreamless sleep. Your brain echoes of chemical brothers. Your thoughts are bashed back at your own mind with tons of illusion. You live in constant denial of the true.

And you remember the day you died. People consoled you. Their words of “Its just a phase, you’ll get over it” scar your inner skull. Like needles screeching metal.

She left you standing. She killed you. You died. But the bullet missed your heart. She should have been more careful. For the heart is capable of unimaginable horrors beyond your wills, your perceptions, your sight, your love. Her only mistake.

Posted by The Acid Tongue | 26 people felt like commenting Links to this post  

Love and Hate are two very similar feelings. While hate blinds you from something until its past, love pushes you forward so fast that you can’t see it until it’s past.

A friend is someone who helps you out in both the situations. After all, they’re just emotions that describe petty likes and dislikes. But they’re both similar and dangerous. I’d kill in love, and I’d kill in hate. Hell, you’ll say, I’d even kill for friends, so my personal opinion doesn’t matter. But how far is your truth from mine?

Anyways, I’ll rather be back on the point. Well, a friend, apart from being a savior is much more. He’s the one who helps you imbalance the equation between hope and its perfect antimatter, disappointment. This friend would care for you in the day, and continue in the night. He’ll repeat this until your world is dismal no more. I’m weird, I agree. I can be the most protective, and possessive friend. I can even expect to be cared for. Shame on me! Whatever happened to “tu karam karta chal, fal ki icchha mat kar”!

This friend is sorry for not speaking to a friend today, for he didn't know what to say. I just want to say I care for you a lot more than I can say. He’ll stay away, and never bother you in any way, and all this friend can say today, is that this friend is sorry. Sorry for whatever I did wrong, although I wish that whatever was known to me.

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“If you smellllllllllllllll(aaao) What The Rock, is Cookin’! ten-den-nannenanemmm ten-den-nananenemmm” Sounded the echo when I entered the green and white painted room. Making a point to jump up and touch the metallic plate on the hood of the door, saluting the spirit of the words etched on it - IX-B. Who gave a damn about what Section A guys would think about me, as long as the girls thought I was “cute”.

Hi-5s, 3D flips, Hip-hop salutes, and I joined in. Atleast 6 minutes before bus no. 7 docked in. For I was another one of the despos vying for the coveted seat next to her bench. Which one was gonna be ‘her’ bench today? 3^rd one. Na yaar.. kal bhi 3^rd pe baithi thi aaj pakka 4^th. Aur waise bhi jab 4^th khali hai to 3^rd pe thodi baithegi. Alright, 4^th one I put my money on. And the bit of money I am left with now can be traded for the 3^rd seat if she takes that one again. ;)

I hear a whisper near my neck, “Saale abhi dekhiyo sumit kya kya laya hoga uske liye. Ekdum paagal hua pada hai AQ k picche”. My mind was on a high tide of thoughts, and I was tryin’ to surf. 24^th August, the grey-blue card, the wordings on it that were so very true, the mixed feelings of whether I should be happy that the name I had given her was catchin up, or angry that people were thinking I wasn’t serious about her. AQ was the result of my insanely desperate attempts to ward of the moral dangers against her that seemed so disturbing that I lost many a friends in the process. A fight, verbal or physical, was a daily routine 2 years ago.

[[Flashback: Enter ladies after holidays into a new grade... Class 7^th B. The physical signs of adolescence were clearly visible. And boys will be boys. Girls were getting called by names they won’t have a slightest idea as to what these abbreviations expanded to. Or maybe they did. I’d never know. Names I would rather not reiterate here, hehe, were flowing all across the first 3 months. Anyone could have guessed she was the next target. Fights were picked, tu itna senti kyon ho ra hai saale.. teri sister hai kya? The concept of love, I could see, hadn’t caught up this early. And as they say, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. I did precisely that. Suggested a name for her. Attitude Queen. Now I look back and think, I did act smart when I had to ;)The more vulgar names were reserved for the bold-er girls in class. I had managed to save her. And I am glad I dint continue fighting, for then people would have needed a new name for me. Haha]]

Amongst all the turmoil in my head, and the fact that I had been stripped off my monitor-ship of the class, I no longer had the advantage of being able to go over and talk to her, no questions asked. I had to wait till lunch. 4 sessions of 40 minutes each had never lasted one full brain-damage for me. Today my arm was not aching of all the “Ma’am, the writer means this as a pun, doesn’t he. So why did blah blah blah ”. Anyhow, managed to reach lunch without any new punishments. The impression was still there. But so was some cruel misunderstanding. I couldn’t think of a better day to clear up the mess than this one. I wanted her talking to me again. The Science lecture got over with her warning us about how difficult this time’s cycle test ‘could’ be.

Thankyou lord for the world so sweet,
Thankyou lord for the food we eat,
Thankyou lord for the birds that sing,
Thankyou lord for Everything.

Amen!

And as I turned after plucking out the card and the rose paper wrapped gift, she had zapped off. Out of the class. With her friends screaming “Yea!” and “Treat!”

I wasn’t going to barge in on her good times with friends and spoil her mood for I wasn’t sure the card was (in her words) ‘cute’ enough to clear up the misunderstanding. I needed time. And this wasn’t the place either. I wont be slapped in the school playground, and that too in lunch break. :D

Waited with heavy hands and a light tummy. Saving the card from prying eyes, prankster brains and lightening quick hands. And the school bag was the dumbest place to put it in. I didn’t any place more than my own hands to take care of her (card). Roaming around without a motive in corridors and stairways, I missed playing maaran-pitti today. And the foil ball looked so juicy today. I could have beaten the crap out of Sahil today. But the only thought that was keeping me from hiding the card in my most trusted flowerpot of 3 years and running over to play was that maybe somehow she comes to know of my devotion to her, and my job becomes a little easier. Haha, I know, I was into a lot of hindi flics those days :p. and anyways, I wanted to be in my best dressed days when I handed it over to her, and most importantly, I dint want to be smelling rotten.

So here I was, standing alone, faking the turmoil inside me on the outside so people thought I was very busy and not ask “Ssup dawg?”

The Sherpa never looked this sweet ever earlier as he walked past me with the dong in his hand, eyes on his target – the lecture bell plate. I could see people atleast surprised to see me non messy, and more shockingly, already in class, on my seat, when they arrived. She walked in behind Sahil, who had been exceptionally lucky today. There was no eye contact, no waves, and no square looks.

It was bangrhu’s class. Haha I absolutely loved this name. So desi, yet so sleek. But some still preferred to call him ‘paplu’, or ‘math wale sir’. Oh yea.. did I mention that she took the second seat that day while I pushed myself to the sixth? Why I did that is a whole another story which I myself don’t remember lolz. So there she was looking so radiantly pretty, her hair falling over her hand strategically placed on the forehead, slightly caressing the smooth skin on her cheeks, while she read the blackboard and repeated the words that seemingly flowed out of her stunningly beautiful pink lips that always had been like the morphine shot I could never get. Saagar brought me back to the classroom from I don’t know what number heaven it was.

Moment of truth, I could visualize myself standing with the card and the giftbox in hand while she boarded her bus back to home if I dint do it now. The next two lectures were sarita ma’am’s social science and they weren’t going to help in my condition. I wasn’t this anxious when I asked her out 6 years later :D

So the bottomline was.. it’s just a birthday card, go ahead.. wish her a happy birthday. Risk your reputation on the thesis that girls melt easily.

I asked the guy sitting in front of me to exchange my seat while the shrewd bangrhu turned to scribble on the board. Repeat. Reached the fourth seat. Sahil was sitting on the third and I felt like an escapist not wanting to attract the cop’s attention. I have to pass on the card. No alternatives. Did. She sent it back. A note attached. Guts hain to khud aake de. I could hear Stone Cold Steve Austin’s entrance video of the shattering glass in my mind. Today’s not MY birthday, it’s hers. Went ahead, as bangrhu turned his back again to the board. “Happy birthday to you. This is for you, I hope you like it” Just as I reached sahil’s seat, the prof had turned around and I stood cold with the “Damn ur unlucky for me, sahil” look engraved on to my face. Friends were getting ready for the masala. They were expecting their favorite punishment – Chalk on the cheeks for the whole lecture. And god and bangrhu were generous that day. The duster was rouged to my chubby cheeks as the card came flying back to my feet. Don’t dare u remove this. I couldn’t cry. I was the ever smiling perfect guy. I never cry. I never feel low. I could handle this. It had been done to me before. And I was proud of me that day. But I had to confess I hated being so damn happy always at this moment.

She turned around. De De card. My middle finger was itching so badly to lead the war. My mind said no. I wish I had been out of this very frikkin mind that day. But anyhow. The card reached her back. The motive wasn’t complete. And I had lost. Completely and evidently.

I couldn’t even hate her. That had been her effect over me for all these years. She could stab me in the eye, and I’d still not hate her.

And till today I hear people saying, it was just adolescent attraction yaar. I wish they are correct.

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This is a rare moment. I wanted to post something today. So damn many ideas. Picked two. Shit. They have the same title. The title of this one!

So here it is: The Goosebumps Part 1

Irtaash - Khauff

This song. It’s in the league of the very very few ones that make you cry with total energy when you karaoke. Gives you goosbumps once it catches up on beat. And works as a safer alternative to your personal dose of Blenders’ Pride.
Listen to it before some Emraan Hashmi movie remixes the shit out of this one too. [R.I.P Toh Phir Aao (Roxen)]

Posted by The Acid Tongue | 2 people felt like commenting Links to this post  

So Cool! I was tagged by Jeya Anand and this being my first tag, I’ma make the most of it…. And use all 8 tags that I can ;)

The rules are as follows:

1. Each player starts with 8 random facts/habits about themselves.
2. People who are tagged, write a blog post about their own 8 random things, and post these rules.
3. At the end of your post you need to tag 8 people and include their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment and tell them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
4. If you fail to do this you’d be doing your blog friends a huge favor, and making their life easy. I’m sure not many want that. So I’ll definitely be forcing the tags.

So lets start with me.

1. The most noticeable fact about me is indeed the one that I stammer. It’s given me rough tides to surf over, but in a way it has helped me too. Since childhood, I’d rather figure things out myself than ask for help. I’ve been laughed at, which I obviously hate. I’ve been sympathized with, which I hate more. And I’ve been asked to shut up because someone else could speak, which makes me fired up enough to kill the one who did this. Hehe. But I’m over these phases, hopefully. I know I hafta live with it, and I am doing quite a decent job at that ;)

2. I am in love with bass. I could live without air if my woofers had enough. Good music with lyrics that make me think is my fuel. I am mostly into heavy metal, psychedelic and sometimes alternative rock. I hate fakes like Linkin Park and Limp Bizkit. Sorry to those I disappointed, or maybe even offended. :D

3. I need friends to hang out. Everyday. I can’t stay alone for more than 5 seconds. I love it when my friends come over 10 times a day. I love to hangout and party. Outside is where my heart is, contrary to my image among most people around me.

4. I believe in recognition of one’s work. I have not been able to decipher till now why people can’t admit something rocks when it does! I sometimes overdo it, though. I can get excited to a weird extent when I see something awesome! I also make it a point to congratulate the person. If I like it, I say it. Even if that means contradicting a gazillion other people’s opinions or beliefs.

5. I am an atheist. I wasn’t always. But now I am. But I AM decently optimistic

6. I am affected by a lot of things. If I start counting, I’d probably end up 80 yrs older. Rang De Basanti, VJs Nikhil, Rannvijay and Cyrus Broacha, people with an amazing dressing sense, and most importantly people who be themselves when it can be almost impossible to do so.

7. People can act important if they are, but if they still don’t, I bow down to them. Humble is one thing I always thrive to be. I don’t know how successful I have been in that though

8. I hate people with 2 faces, or people who fake being something that they’re not (like people who act cool and end up saying “Oye! Did u went there?”), and people who can’t admit that any-damn-body can be better than them in any-damn-field.

------ Aaah the bliss of being Sumit Sharma!

And here I tag my superbloggers VIII

1. Aman

2. Sahil Dhar Hakim

3. Mohit Rodeja

4. Bhupinder Singh

5. Rajeev(y) – I’m sorry, but I was awed by the last 8 you posted. Need More!

6. Nothingman

7. Ravisekharan

8. Cupid’s Best Pal

Posted by The Acid Tongue | 15 people felt like commenting Links to this post  

Franz Ferdinand - Take Me Out

I think i should start with one of my favorite songs. If you notice a little blue button next to the link above, it's working!


EXAM UPDATE: Sat for 2 reappear exams, took the two most challenging tests in the history of civil engineering department in my university, and the results come out tomorrow.
2 more left.

Posted by The Acid Tongue | 7 people felt like commenting Links to this post  

Yes. I really really hope i stay away from blogging, and probably even my computer.
Atleast i'd be able to save some time for studies, especially when i appear for my first exam in a few hours from now.


A week of exams, and i'll be back guys... So pray you don't see me before the 9th!


Adios,
Sumit Sharma


PS: Civil Department haaye haaye! The department with no balls! my 7 yr old cousin has more self confidence than the HoD of the Civil Department in my university. Say it with me.. Boooooooooooooooooooo!!!!

Posted by The Acid Tongue | 6 people felt like commenting Links to this post  

Weird, i agree, but still took em inspired by Keshi's Blog
Here are the results

You Are a Fun Flirt

You just can't help yourself... you flirt with everyone you know. Guys, girls, crushes, and friends. They're all victims to your charm. You're into silly innuendos, sexy jokes, and playful touches. You are a huge flirt, yet you never make anyone (too) uncomfortable!

You Should Drive a Blue Car

You're the type of driver who isn't hung up on the what car you drive. You don't need a flashy car to show off your wealth or style. Instead, you go for value and reliability. You're quite practical. You're a great driver, but you don't show off. Part of your skill is not standing out on the road.

Your Heart Is Blue

Love is a doing word for you. You know it's love when you treat each other well. You are a giving lover, but you don't give too much. You expect something in return. Your flirting style: Friendly Your lucky first date: Lunch at an outdoor cafe Your dream lover: Is both generous and selfish What you bring to relationships: Loyalty

Never Date a Capricorn

Somber, demanding, and freakishly logical. Emotions? It's not clear that Capricorn has them. And while it may be flattering for a Capricorn to be serious about you, bad news: they expect you to be super serious in return. Instead try dating: Aquarius, Gemini, Leo, or Virgo

You Are 36% Cynical

Generally you give people the benefit of the doubt. But there are exceptions. You buy into many of the things that mainstream society believes, but you're not anybody's fool.

Your Birthdate: November 23

People wouldn't take you for a passionate person - and that's where they'd be wrong. You can develop deep emotions quickly, and you're the type most likely to move in with someone after a few dates. Number of True Loves You'll Have: 3 Number of Times You'll Have Your Heart Broken: 1 You are most compatible with people born on the 5th, 14th, and 23rd of the month.

Your Famous Last Words Will Be:

"Nice doggy."

Your Brain is Red

Of all the brain types, yours is the most impulsive. If you think it, you do it. And you can get the bug to pursue almost any passion. Your thoughts are big and bold. Your mind has no inhibitions. You tend to spend a lot of time thinking about love, your dreams, and distant places.

Posted by The Acid Tongue | 9 people felt like commenting Links to this post