The Smiling Buddha

One fine day my tooth cells died

And my buck tooth turned black

Looked in the mirror and hard I cried

Oh it looked so gross and wack

Didn’t laugh even at the funniest joke

Just Smiled at everyone and never laughed again

And Smiling Buddha was my new name

I went to a party and opened my mouth

And everyone there shouted aloud

Like they have seen bloody Mary

But my laughter was indeed scary

Then they laughed so hard, I cried

You still look beautiful they lied

Smiled at everyone and never  laughed again

And Smiling Buddha was my new name

Depressed, hideous, hiding my face

I met a man who’d got a scarred face

I asked

World is watching aren’t you scared

He simply said, son remember the word

World is a hoe. Fuck the world!!

I’ve still got a black tooth but I do laugh

They call me smiling Buddha

I tell them to fuck off

Why can’t Anxious people sleep!?

That’s because your primitive brain is at work. Anxiety is caused when you’re anticipating a threat, but this brain only comprehends physical threat and it keeps you alert and awake even when your body is tired and you’d be yawning all along. The brain makes you anxious and wants you to come to a solution. Now, a physical danger is easy to avert, you can light a log of wood and be safe from wild boars, but an emotional problem can’t be dealt in the same fashion and that’s why you get frustrated because you’re thinking about it more and more, but not able to figure out what’s wrong. It’s not you. It’s your brain.

Tell that bugger the toxic relationship can wait another day and go to sleep.

Resurgence

You must leave Delhi once, to value the rickety walls, crowded lanes and dirty marketplaces almost more than or equal to the overcast meadows and picturesque woods of East coast.

The dingy alleys proffers a lot of things, you don’t have to say yes to everything, which is where I think I went wrong.

Being responsible for your own misery is a privilege nobody wants to acknowledge, well at least no one else made your choices for you, and that is understood only when the beautiful east coast incarcerates you in the shackles that for loss of words masquerades as love and affection and devoids you of ability to make rational choices and you’re stuck being miserable because of some other person.

I had once “Changed” my lifestyle by shifting from Marlboro Advance to Ice Burst, which was not much liked by my throat, but my pocket remained filled with gratitude, and few more Gandhis. Though this time I decided to quit smoking altogether. Come to think of it, I had started smoking to overcome the anxiety issues I had back in July 2019, which become a pervasive theme of later 2019 and led to many eh again for the loss of words “fucking terrible” choices, which in turn led to some introspection and yada yada yada. All in all, haven’t smoked for 23 days so far!

The lazy brat was one of the most glorious and funny twitter profiles of all times, and these are not even my words, but honestly now, it doesn’t even matter. Entire social media will start acting like a bitch and show you the content that you’re running away from. Quitting social media was always on the chart, but just needed the push. I wish to preserve my sanity, at least for next 5 years, and this was a much needed break for the purpose. People tell me I’m acting on impulses, but this is the first time I ain’t being impulsive, it’s a well thought out exit strategy, pause for dramatic effect, to nowhere. See when you’ve got a screw loose, you’ve got a screw loose.

Drink water, with a squeezed lemon, and a pinch of salt, which, if you’re not trying to impress people with your word count could be called lemonade, first thing in the morning. The difference is not physical, or is too small to be noticed or felt, but phycological because you’re replacing it as a habit, with laying around in the bed, scrolling through someone’s twitter profile wondering if they actually did what they claim they did on Twitter.

Cook your own food, do your own laundry and clean your own toilet, to get a very little and subtle dose of sense of independence and accomplishment. It doesn’t do much in the longer run, just makes you a more bearable person and if you ever get stuck in a sinking ship, where most useless person is thrown off the board, you’d not be the one.

Drink water out of a glass instead of the bottle, and you’d be a happier person. Don’t trust me, do it for yourself.

तमस

आज दिल्ली वापस आने के लिए घर से चला तो कुछ भारी सा साथ था। हल्की बारिश ने घर से हवाईअड्डे तक का सफर सुहाना बना रखा था। कार में अजीब सी खामोशी थी, पिताजी ने काफी कुछ कहा था, अब वो चुप थे।

घर काटने को दौड़ता था, समय के खालीपन को अवसाद ने जकड़ लिया था, खिड़की से एक दुनिया भागती हुई नज़र आती थी, लगता था कुछ छूट रहा है। एक दिन मैंने पिताजी से कह दिया कि मुझे वापस दिल्ली जाना है, पिताजी सकपका गए, वे चाहते थे मैं कुछ दिन और रुकूँ, पर मेरी भी ज़िद थी।

अपने हालात, का जिम्मेदार अब घर को समझने लगे गया था, कोसने लग गया था उस मकान को। अवसाद से बुरे सपने आने लगे थे, और ये सारा इल्ज़ाम पिताजी और उनका ये घर ले रहे थे। ये सच है दिल्ली ने मुझे बेचैन रातों, निराशा, नशे की लत के सिवा और कुछ नहीं दिया, पर ये दिल्ली भी अब किसी जन्नत से कम महसूस नही हो रही थी।

मोहल्ले में और किसी के बच्चे वापस नही जा रहे, एक तुझे ही लौटने की पड़ी है, माँ ने सामान बांधते हुए कहा।

पिताजी नाराज़ थे, दुखी थे, बहुत कुछ कहना चाहते थे, चाहते थे कान पकड़ कर घर पर रोक लें, डांट डपटकर ही सही पर मुझे जाने नही देना चाहते थे। मैं प्रतिमा की तरह खड़ा रहा, भावशून्य, बिल्कुल पत्थर बन कर! मैं तंग आ चुका था, घर से घर की पाबंदियों से, नियमों से, शर्तों से। अब बस भागना चाहता था।

माँ की आंखों में आंसू थे, पिताजी की आवाज़ भारी थी और मैं, न जाने किस शय की तलाश में घर छोड़ रहा था। पलट कर देखता हूँ, तो सारा जीवन बस भागने की दास्ताँ लगती है, एक शहर से दूसरे शहर, एक इंसान से दूसरे इंसान तक। मैं खुद से भाग रहा था, खुद के शून्य से भाग रहा था, खुद से संघर्ष कर रहा था। इस खुद से भागने के संघर्ष में न जाने और कितने दिल दुखेंगे, कितनी आंखें भीगेंगी।

Dil, Jaan Aur Parathe

A typical morning routine involves, getting up at 530, going for a run, having a cigarette and a Chai at Mrityunjay’s and coming back home to garma garam Parathe.

I’ve been having bad dreams for weeks now, the sense of loss overwhelms, but doesn’t halt the running schedule. The past couple of months were terrible for plethora of reasons. My mind without any job started eating itself. Some weeks were so bad I didn’t want to get up.

I started working on my anxiety issues, and it showed little but definite progress. Guilt trips, remorse and other traumas come hitting occassionally, but I get through them without doing anything impulsive. I can sit at one place without checking out twitter feed for a longer period and not getting abnormally restless and anxious.

The secret is just believing the best days are yet to come. I did whatever I had to do to cope. Accept the impermanence, and embrace your own eccentricity, what made you weird as a kid, might make you interesting as an adult, which include your insecurities.

I was dancing in my room one evening, when my mum got in, she sheepishly got out and said, you continue beta. Told my dad, “he is dancing and singing again”. It was exciting. I read one story from O Henry’s 100 selected stories, before going to bed. Everyday. Day 13 so far.

I am getting better, each and every day. I am Moving on.

While dealing with a mental issue you tend to be arrogant and inconsiderate towards people. I too have been rude and blatantly outspoken to certain closest people. I apologise. I can’t set things right, but I am a better person now and you helped me through it.

Insecure hain?! Yes. Kisi ko hurt karne ka intention hai?! Nahi.

At the end what matters is, dil jaan aur parathe. Everything falls into place, eventually. =)

शाम-ए-फ़िराक़ अब न पूछ आयी और आ के टल गयी

दिल था कि फिर बहल गया, जां थी, कि फिर संभल गयी

इंकलाब

है बर्फ़ सी जमी हुई
ये बेड़ियां जो जीस्त की
कुछ ख्वाब हैं जो जल रहे
कहीं कुढ़ते कही सुलग रहे
मैं चीखता हूं खुद पे ही
तू आग है तो जल ज़रा
हालात तो बदल ज़रा
क्या स्याह में गुज़र जाएगा
कब इंकलाब लाएगा
कब इंकलाब लाएगा

शाम भी है ढल रही
निशा की ओर बढ़ रही
है पूछता समय तुझे
क्यों चुप है तू बता उसे
क्या अश्रुओं से रात की
भंवर सका है चीर कोई
तू लिख रहा जो रेत पे
वो समंदर मिटाएगा
कब इंकलाब लाएगा
कब इंकिलाब लाएगा

Trapped.

Alexithymia gets better of you and every emotion is misinterpreted and the void stares right in your face and the blood gushes down the drain. This is probably the 5th or 6th time I’ve cut myself. I keep telling myself, that this is not depression you’re just sad about your current scenario and it’ll get better, thinking it’d help. It does to some extent. The sane self tells me not to do it. Don’t not do it to yourself. You’ll be fine.

Sometimes I think, I should tell everything that’s happening to me to my parents, they’d be supportive. Then I see my father yelling at some worker, for a trivial stuff and can’t believe he’d be okay with whatever I’m gonna tell him. I call my mum to find she’s too busy to listen to my stuff.

I feel trapped.

Misery 2

The worst is, not accepting. Stay in denial and things will keep getting more painful.

Some days you’ll be cheated on, you’ll lose the race you don’t know you were even part of. Stupid people get lucky and intelligent people can’t make it big. It’s okay, right.

Moving on, is a not a choice but a necessity if you want to preserve your sanity and save yourself from unwarranted pangs and heartbreaks.

Detachment I’ve learnt is very underrated virtue. Hang on a bit more. It will get better. Have no expectations. And don’t pick up calls when you’re not exactly in a condition to talk.

It’ll get better. Eventually.

Cesspool.

For people who’ve learnt to live alone, home is nothing but a fancy prison. The more I come home, more I feel like I shouldn’t have. Mine is a toxic place, I’ve no shame admitting. I grew up amidst, chaos, fights, financial insecurity and what not. I never really figured out how would I get out of the place, I finally did tho. Being caught in the lockdown in home, is just a traumatising walk down the memory lane. We sit together and do not talk, no one talks, everyone’s in their room. We eat together, which goes to prove that a family that eats together doesn’t necessarily stays together.

You don’t want to hear about things you can’t do, do you?!? World is exhausting enough. Not many can relate can they?!?

You don’t have to relate, you don’t have to comment, it’s okay. I understand.

Not every home is a cesspool

Misery!!

Tao’s father died, he was bitten by a snake, who lived up the mountains. Tao was devastated and rage became his driving force. He set up to the mountains, with the intention of killing the snake. He was the first one to cross his village barrier, he travelled and travelled, deep Into the forests looking for the snake. During his quest he found relics of the civilisation that existed and doesn’t any more. He found an old woman, who told him she can lead him to the snake. They both headed to the mountains, and in the path found abandoned ruins Metals and statues, armors and glasses. Tao asked where is the snake, old woman said, up the highest mountain. They both climbed up the mountain, and Tao saw the snake, evil and vicious. He took out his sword and swung at him.
Snake wasn’t there. He never was. Old woman said, you really believe there lives a snake up the mountains that brings death and misery to the people of your village. You really think world is that simple that only a single thing is responsible for all the bad days

The people who lived here, made missiles, to destroy the snake, they drank to forget it. They educated themselves to avert it.
They climbed mountains, they searched the bottom of the seas, they did everything to find the snake.

Bad things happen and the reasons are complicated, and there will never come a time when everything’s will be alright and nothing hurts. There’s no snake, there’s no evil witches. There’s universe with endless complexities and there’s your village.

Do not be a hero. Embrace your eccentricity and accept the impermanence and you shall realise happiness, although temporary isn’t hard to come by.

Things that can’t be explained.

Why, a black T can go for weeks without washing, why a black trouser can go months without washing.

What seem like glittering lights and weird noises we associate with poems and aesthetic is meaning of life staring right in our face, but with a tragic touch of unintelligibility.

How some people can stay indoors when it’s not allowed. Eccentricity is not always, a privilege, because you need to explain to people the addiction to fags and the need for it. And you fail to see the bigger picture and crippling anxiety follows. Why an instagram story trigger your existential crisis and kills parts of your heart and rest of your heart carries it like a wounded soilder is carried by the other men, like a liability.

Gravity is a social construct and past is irreparable, and there’s no point dwelling on it.