So I ask you, what's the point?

I talk for hours in my head. I stare at your face. I smile. You smile. We talk. It's the same. I have you convinced. You think nothing is wrong. You think it's the same. I dodge the can of worms as it rolls on to the stage. It's not the right time, I tell myself. We smile, we shake, and we're on our way. You're on your way to a set of arms that loves you and to a pair of ears that listen to your words and most importantly, you're on your way to a set of lips that tells you what you wish to hear.

I talk and talk for hours in my head, and there really is no point. If you heard even a fraction of what I had to say, you'd shrug your shoulders, make the most repulsed face you can and you'll again be on your way to those arms those and those lips. You'll discuss your bruises. You'll discuss my flaws. You'll discuss everything of mine that I wouldn't yours. Those arms will cradle you and you won't need me to bring you your medicine.

I apologize. I look at your visibly pissed off, but still cute face and I say that I'm sorry. This doesn't convince you. Why should it? I'm feeding you lies anyway. You roll your eyes and tell me I have issues. I crack a light smile and say we all do, don't we? You look to ground and raise your tone. You tell me I'm no longer receptive, and that it's a problem. I sigh because you're no longer a good critic, and that's my problem. But I won't say this because it might prove your point, and my ego isn't dead. So I shut up and listen and I try to fix it with a hug. You lean in with dead arms as your eyes roll themselves out of your sockets. I feel pathetic. Dead cats give better hugs. You usually give better hugs. But you don't ever hug, do you?

So I stand with just as much to say as I had to yesterday. But I want you to be the only one to hear. But I'll never find you alone. So I feel like shit for thinking things that sound this selfish. Because somewhere in this rant, I want you to be alone. Maybe just as alone as I stand now. That's a terrible thing for a friend to want. So I no longer want it. I don't decide to tell myself that I'll try to not want it. I just no longer want it. It's wrong.

Days pass me by, faces cross my path. I laugh. I yell. I crib. I tease. I bid goodbye and return to my bed at night. I talk to my parents on the phone. I check emails that bind to my past. On some sunny afternoons, the sight of the sunlight on the bricks of the wall reminds me of the slow days that escaped my share of time simply because I was dreaming. I think of what I love. I think of what I should be. I think of my circle of comfort. And of how the radius has decreased as of late. I find it sad that I try to stretch it further bit by bit but only to find it relapse pass the original point. I think of how you're in it. You're in that tiny little circle that seems to be shrinking. When this thought crosses my mind, I get up and turn to walk towards you. I imagine the things I have to say, and weigh the acidity of my words before they trip off the tip of my tongue. They are sour. They are sour enough to trigger that repulsed face of yours. The one I hate to see. You make that face in my mind, and the sight of those extra arms, eyes and ears appear. They scoff at me just as you do. I don't want you to scoff. I want you to hug. And not like a dead cat would. So I decide to dodge the can that rolls in again. because I don't dodge it, you'll scar my future thoughts with that hideous face you make.

So I pause and deal with the momentum of my intentions having to be suppressed. It is an unpleasant killjoy sort of feeling. I purse my lips and ask what's up? You shrug and say nothing... nothing special. You're on your way out again. So I get back under my blanket. It's warm enough to make me forget about the diminishing radius and the speed of time.

So I ask you, what's the point?

We came, we saw, &they left me to conquer

It's been a long six months, since I shifted to Chandigarh, but alas- my first post on the ole' blog, I write from my house in Delhi.

Before having moved to Chandigarh, I had heard a lot about it. Or at least as much as one can hear over the span of a week [that would be the week that I found out about the existence of the college that i currently attend... and the same week that decided the next four years of my life]. It all seemed so sudden: the forms, the faxes, the bank statements, the photocopies, the shopping, the phonecalls, the shopping, the packing... the handshakes and hugs, and finally the piaggio auto that sped away from the gates of my hostel carrying the three individuals who loved me the most in the world.

Bless my memory for I can still recall every little detail of my arrival in Chandigarh. And it's nice to think about how the city was for me in the first few days and how it is now because it's only been six months and there is already a marked nostalgia of the former perspective.

Before leaving for Chandigarh, I used Google to get my preliminary source of information regarding the city. I also found a PG in Sec-35 for us to stay in for a couple of days. As an outsider, I found the term "Sector 35-c" seem pretty insignificant as I stared at my computer screen. Little did I know, I'd be spending most of my late-leaves over the next semester in this.

And so we came, a family of four set to breath in the sights that India's best-planned city had to offer. We laughed, we ate, we clicked pictures to mark our moments. Then the vacation ended, and reality slapped me in the face as I opened my room's door, and realized that my family wasn't there. Nobody was there. The hostel was practically empty. I walked over to my bed. It felt cold and unreal, partially because i hadn't taken off the plastic from the mattress and partially because I hadn't imagined things to be this cold.

It was either due to the silence that seeped into my surroundings, or the fact that I forgot to anticipate the silence. Over the next few minutes, I sat there curled up on my new mattress, staring at my balcony view. The room was better than expected. But it was still empty. I was alone. And even though I knew my roommates would be moving in over the next few days, I still felt alone. Maybe I felt this way because I knew that no matter how significant they become over the next four years, they'll still be just friends. They won't be the ones who've known me all of my life. They'll be the ones to know me best from my college days, but none of them will be able to see how vivid and detailed the past 18 years of my life had been. They'll get to know me, but they might not understand why I am this way.

And as the room continued to stay silent, I continued to ponder the things I had seen over the years... the places I had called home... the phases that I entered proudly, lived through steadily, and quit reluctantly... the friends whose ears I'd whispered my secrets into... the fights that I'd have with my brother... the songs that I'd exploit till they no longer pleased me... the mentors, the advice... and the grand ceremonial end to my high school life... and the application process... the past few days.. and the auto that had probably arrived at the Chandigarh Railway Station a moment ago... the three passengers that exit the vehicle to board the train...

Though momentarily depressing, it was necessary for me to go over all of it. Looking back, acknowledging closure in between stages had always made it easier to move on. Those moments of reflection may have only last a few minutes, but they cemented so permanently in my memory, it doesn't take long to remember how..."it felt back then".

Eventually my roommates moved in and I moved past my unanticipated vulnerability. I made some new friends, joined some clubs, left a club, got to know the city. Sometimes, I can flatten most of the past six month's events down to one condensed memory that will furthermore continue condense under the pressure of passing time But it's the initial days of a fresh stage that never seem to blur, no matter how distant in the past they may stand.

Maybe I'll span it out over a few posts, but I think I'm gonna describe the most vivid of "checkpoints" in my life. That is, given I'm still in the same "senti" mood that I currently find myself to be in.

Minor Letdown

the lone tree draws her close with vines of silence

the coarseness of the bark comes only to mind

when the grandiose foliage is left to unwind

sweltering words need not be spoken

for placid ties to be broken

a vigorous mind need not trauma to turn rough

for solitude in excess does damage enough

with winter’s wind passing,

the inevitable energy of the change has gone

fall’s lingering warmth is withdrawn

short frequent meetings are reduced to distant greetings

the best of burgeoning friendships become frail

for in the end, expectations give way to betrayal

Let's Get Acquainted

So. Herro. I'm Mootal. &This be my blog. Stick around.

Mootal predicts post frequency to be low. Very low.