Soon.

Someday I'll have a Google Doodle in my name. 

Street Lamps on Cobblestone Streets

Yesterday I decided to go out for a walk in the evening, around 4 pm.
Something got into me and I ended up wearing kurta-pajama. Funny, I didn't know I owned this kurta pajama. The kurta was dark maroon and black and the pajama was black. It came with a black stole that I put around my neck.

I walked out of my door barefoot into the courtyard of my castle. Square stone tiles formed a generous pathway across the wet grass of the small garden. To my right, I heard the laughter of voices I recognised.

I walked towards the laughter. I noticed a strange blend of several friends I've had over the past two decades of my life. A few friends from Delhi, a few friends from Pune, a few friends from Mumbai.
It felt like an unusual form of a re-union meant only for me.
But funny thing, we all knew each other.
All of us dressed in our best ethnic clothes.

The evening was bright, vibrant and colourful and the music was cheerful and uplifting.  We were all dancing on the cold white marble floor, barefoot and free.

No one spoke a word. The laughter penetrated our hearts. And the feeling was beautiful.

Night took over and the marble floor became even colder. We jumped onto the wet carpet of grass and soaked in the pure energy of the earth.

The white castle lit up with subtle hues of green, blue and purple. The music grew louder and reverberated across the courtyard.

The surrounding wooden fence around the castle set itself free from the earth and started floating toward the sky. The fence transformed into hypnotic aurora lights with shades of green, white and blue. The lights made their way back to the palace grounds creating a fence of dancing lights. What a sight that was. Magical, almost like a dream.
We stared in awe as a dark blue and purple butterfly sat on a friend's nose and immediately burst into tiny fragments of bright green and blue lights. The sparks of the butterfly flew high above us and turned into fireflies.

No one spoke a word. The light penetrated our hearts. And the feeling was beautiful.

Oh simple thing, where have you gone?

Yesterday, I woke up on a hill. It was cold, but I wasn't feeling cold. Everything around me was grey- The tree, the grass, the sky, the dirt, the stones. I was old, but I felt young.
Was I living in the post apocalypse era?
I was at the edge of the highest peak around. There was only one lonesome tree standing with me.
The breeze was blissful. The song 'Somewhere Only We Know' by Keane was echoing throughout the valley.
That made me smile. I knew what it was trying to tell me.

My phone's alarm broke the serenity. I looked at it and realised it was time to go back home.
There I started my perilous journey down hill. There was no pathway. It was simply a steep deathly jump to the ground. But I found my way around next to an incredibly beautiful, but grey waterfall. This path was also not an easy path. It had the deceptive flimsy semi solid stones everywhere, which meant no reliable support. There were times I had to jump from one end of the waterfall to the other only to avoid the thorn plantations and the poison ivy.

How did I get to the top in the first place?

I had no memory of anything.

I made it half way to the bottom. The hill reached a narrow plateau which allowed me to sit  and catch my breath while I enjoyed the view. I was wet, dirty and cold, even though I didn't feel wet, dirty or cold.

The sound of a car coming my way broke my reverie. I looked to my left and noticed a beautiful black sedan with my cousin brother, Sahil, driving it. Strangely, my cousin brother doesn't know how to drive
a car. And neither did he ever wear spectacles. Why was he wearing spectacles?

We smiled at each other. By the time he got closer I noticed my other cousin brother, Sajeel, sitting in the backseat along with my mother. They were all smiling and waving at me.

I don't remember what happened next.
An intelligent person would have sat with them in the car. But I don't think I did, and I can't recollect why. There is a blackout in my mind between the period of me spotting them, and me continuing my way further downhill.

Hmm...

I reached another plateau. I decided to take a walk around the hill. Everything was still, everything was grey.

In the distance I saw a boy jogging towards me. A boy with tied up dread locks in a textured white t shirt, khakis and a pair of black and white Converse shoes.
It was one of my juniours from college.
As if nothing was unusual about this situation, we both smiled and waved at each other and went our own ways.

There was another black out.

It was yesterday, and I woke up on a hill. It was cold, but I wasn't feeling cold. Everything around me was grey- The tree, the grass, the sky, the dirt, the stones. The song 'Somewhere Only We Know' by Keane echoed throughout the valley.

I smiled because because I knew what it was trying to tell me.

What a Wonderful World

I was walking home last night from a place really far away. It was after midnight and it was beginning to drizzle. There was no body around for a long time.
In the distance I saw a patrol officer dressed in white standing next to his bike which shared the same colour as his uniform. I, very hesitantly, walked up to him and asked him if he could give me a ride home.
The officer gave me a kind, hospitable smile.
He very sweetly handed over the keys to his bike to me and told me, in his pleasant baritone, that I could take his bike home.
His response came to me as quite an unusual, unexpected and suspicious surprise.

It's funny how terribly conditioned we are in this world that when someone does something bad to you, you say you expected it. But when someone does something incredibly nice for you, you refuse to believe and accept it.

I had never ridden a bike before, but the energy around was so positive that I couldn't refuse his strange offer. He seemed so sure of himself that I accepted the keys, sat on his bike and started riding.
Riding the bike wasn't so hard.

I had a smile on my face the whole ride home.

From the Inside

I heard Linkin Park's Meteora album after over 7 years today. And no matter what other people say, I've got to admit that I still absolutely love this album.

I bought this album back in the 6th grade. It was my first official Rock Album and I was in love with it. The music, the beats, the composition, the vocals. Everything, apart from the lyrics, were perfect. I never hated the lyrics, I just could never relate to them. But however emo the lyrics may have been, they were still written very poetically.
Most people considered and still consider this album to be very immature. And listening to it makes you  immature automatically. They say their music is the kind that only 12 year old angst girls listen to.
But I don't care what people say, I love this album and still consider it their best even after all these years.

Now I'm not writing this post to critique this album. I'm writing this because listening and enjoying this album all over again, it sparked a thought in my tiny head...

Do I only still love this album because I heard it as a child? I was 11.
I truly believe peoples' taste in music evolves as they grow older, but I'm 20 now and I still love it.

This just got me to think about the children of this current generation. The one's listening to absolute rubbish composed by sell out, talentless, autotuned artists. I don't wish to take their names because it will start an argument, which is not the purpose of this write up. But ti those smart enough, they'll know who I'm talking about.

It's just scary to think about what popular music will be like in another decade. All I want to say is that we need to be careful to what we listen to when we're  kids, because no matter what happens, we will always love the music. It's stuck with us for the rest of our lives. I know even when I'm 50, I will love Meteora.
So choose music wisely, you don't want to regret listening to it later. Because looking at the current music scene, the possibility of you regretting loving the music you listen to right now is very high. 

I like to stare at old people and wonder what they might have looked like when they were young

You know that feeling, when you're having something delicious after a long hard days work? That most vibrant and rejuvenating and most perfect feeling of satisfaction when you deservingly take a bite into your fresh warm food. 
And then mid way through this matchless and divine moment something important comes up and you have to leave immediately. You're forced to keep the food aside till your work is complete. Deep, sorrowful music plays at the back while a crestfallen tear trickles down your heart as you reluctantly step away from your wholesome God.

You can't work straight. The taste of the unfinished, tender food lingers in your mouth.
The food gets cold. The work is left incomplete.