Lost Music, Found Lyrics.

"Show is over close the storybook, 

There will be no encore."

-The Verve Pipe

What happens when all your life you've chased after something and it's always eluded you? Does it lose it's charm and luster in your eyes, with time? Or does it become that much more coveted and irreplaceable? You're doomed if it's the latter. 

Love. Boy, I hate that word. 

The one thing we want more than anything else. The one thing we wish were permanent and is the least of all things permanent. Is not to love. It's to be loved. And how hard could it be right? You can love. So why can't he? You talk to him about his passions, fears, ambitions (or the lack thereof). About his football and how he once had a serious injury. About how he likes his food bland. About parallel lives and parallel worlds. Of dreams, attainable and attain-ably-unattainable. About Blood Diamond and how you've never seen it. About music you don't understand. About pseudo intellects. About drugs and foolish theories. About tobacco and quiet nights. About loving 500 Days of Summer and never wanting it for yourself. And you listen too. 

You look absolutely gorgeous when you put on a dress and dapper heels. You match him step by step and just stop short of overstepping your femininity. He loves that. You take his breath away each time you choose to flash your wit or let down your hair. He loves that too. Then why can't he love you? 

Tricky isn't it? Beautiful, subtle, passionate, crazy, smart, funny, and everything just a fortnight ago he told you he saw in you and loved. But he just didn't love you. I don't get it either. I don't get what twisted, cruel act of fate makes you put yourself and your heart right out on the line each time and then have it lashed at with such fury that it takes aeons for it to revive and rekindle even one-fourth of its warmth back into you. 

I stay up late mugging up lines about the Malaysian increasing crime rates and straining to see the lace details of the latest Dior booties, at the same time, and somewhere in the middle, it hits me like a punch in the belly and almost laughs at me while it watches me reeling under the pain for some ten endless minutes of excruciating torture. This love. 

I'm still running the treasure-hunt marathon. Just taking a time-out to submerge myself in this city, its odor, to make it's eccentric life run through my veins (precaution: side-effects may include erratic bleeding), and to forge a lifelong sisterhood and super-fluousness. 

So maybe I'll find the lyrics to my music. Maybe it'll add meaning and depth to some wordless tunes. Maybe it'll make something only shiny plastic, actually beautiful.

Keep running girls. And watch out for the speed-breakers. 

The Fan Keeps Running

It's night time. I enter my room; things just the way I left them - dried clothes on the chair, my computer downloading movies, an empty water bottle on the floor, the smell of my 'Tresor" still lingering in the air and my messed up bed. The fan, running. Ahh, this is the life. 

No matter how I leave my room, I never switch off my fan. Why? Well because it keeps up the ventilation, gets my wet towel dry and moreover, gives me a nice gush of air the moment I enter my room baked in the outdoor weather. 

I plug my smart phone to the charger, put my bag away, change into something more comfortable for the night, fix up something to eat, play some good music and relax. Friend's visit, we talk and laugh. Some complain, some entertain, some gossip and some just like to drop in to say hi.
The fan keeps running. 

I think about them, their issues, contemplating on what I would've done. I talk to them, try to help them. How much importance do we tend to give to trivial things in life? A broken heart, a heated argument, jealousy, materialism, a men's male ego and a female's envy. Hours pass by and nothing seems to be done. Just another talk session. The fan keeps running. 

Morning follows; the usual routine. Some random plans once in a while. Good food even less. Library, coffee, books. Alas, my room again.
The fan still running. 

I hear the fan running. Reminds me how things don't always happen smoothly. How people around you can make you miserable. How friends turn into enemies. How you can badly miss a hug from mum and dad and can do nothing about it. How you miss giggling around with the brothers and you feel tears trickling down the cheeks in matter of seconds. I miss everything. 

Its an irony how people whom hurts you the most teaches you the greatest lesson in life. Yes, they taught me. 

I hear the fan running. This time it made an unusual, "krikkk" sound. Aligning to my feelings, I presumed. Weird the world is. People judge you based on who your group of companies are, who you have your lunch with maybe even whom you go to the toilet to. You lower your ego to the pit, apologize for what's not your mistake, only to be labeled for "Friends with a bitch." You be friends with girls, you're a brat. You hang out with guys, you're a slut. 

I laughed at myself. Who are we trying to satisfy? The society, the friend or the very own self?

Probably a question, which many has been faking for years. Or even over their life.

Sometimes I sit and think about the good old days, old friends, true relations. Silence surrounds me. Only the sound of the running fan. Everything just happens so fast. So far away from home, I wonder if I really have people to whom matters to me. Friends who I assume to be close. Those who if asked to do something, don't question. Those, to whom I can bare my soul and still know that they would remain the same. 

I trust too much. I fall. I get up, stabilize and then I fall again. I learn. I smile. I laugh. The thing with coming to any conclusion is that it always has the potential to change. I smirk. I remain optimistic. The fan keeps running. 

Apart from only a select few, all are the same. Feels bad to judge and to part from people you once loved. But moving on is a necessity. Those who don't understand me now, can never understand me later. I wipe that tear drop and switch off the light.

The fan keeps running, my life keeps on moving.

All I Sought Was A Friendship.

All I sought was friendship. I had it, a beautiful relationship, that a lot of time was invested in, I was glad, the laughter, the waiting for a message, the small exchanges of personal information, the guesses and longing to spend time together, it was beautiful. Just beautiful.

I was so happy and content. Nature was in full bloom.

Doomed and damned that I am, I lost it, I still have to unravel the reason why? I am slow to understand, it was probably my exuberance, my insistence, my jealousy, that stifled you. My consistent banter that threw you off.

All I wanted was your friendship, wanted to care for you, something that I wanted to do, for the rest of your life.

All I wanted to be, was a part of your life. Stand in your shadow, unseen, observe your Highs and Lows. Offer my shoulder to lean and cry upon, in the time of need. Applaud your achievements silently.

But it all went awry.

Now there is no way to contact you. The bridges have all been burnt. The bitterness, probably in you, is vile. Rightfully so. I accept that too.

I bear no malice, I bear no ill, I am just the same, though a little low. I leave you to your space, because, I feel you wanted it that way. Your feelings and desires are paramount.

But I remain steadfast, and have reached where I wanted to be, in your shadows. Observing, waiting for your call, you just have to reach out and you will find me there by your side as a true friend. In all the turbulent times that you go through, face them, firmly and with strength, for you will not be alone, I shall be there to support you.

In the manner that we have gone apart. There is nothing that you have lost - you have gained a support. A firm pillar, which time will tell. I will be there always, irrespective....

Of Love and Words.

You should date a girl who reads.

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry and in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who read understand that all things must come to end, but that you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hoursbut she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

Inside you is an Ugly Betty

Inside you is an Ugly Betty, an Elle Woods or a Desperate Housewife. A flawed woman, an imperfect woman eager to make herself more perfect for someone else, to be what someone else thinks of them, someone who is sometimes overwhelmed by the things she doesn’t have but wants to live a happier life and feel more complete. So often as a woman we live our life constantly battling what is expected of us and what we expect of ourselves. But most of the times I have learnt to appreciate the imperfectness that makes me a woman. There is something raw, pure and sublime about accepting the flaws that make you who you are. But its even more empowering to stop trying to be perfect; to stop measuring yourself with the yardsticks of another woman’s beauty, body, success, fame, money, popularity or peace.  Being an imperfect woman is living a full life, it is dipping your hands deep into the jar of life and licking each emotion off, one finger at a time. Its tolerating the taste of bitterness, savoring the flavor of peace, resisting the taste of jealousy, teasing yourself with the smells of success, relishing the bursts of selflessness, swallowing the seeds of fears, biting down the bits of impatience. 

 I am an imperfect woman and I don’t always handle myself with aplomb. I err, I cry, I laugh and I fight and I am happy accepting that. Because its all these imperfections bundled together that makes me, the unique me.

Why The World Wont End.

Everyone has been saying how their 12.12.12 has failed to be a special one. Being caught up in the hectic daily routine,  I never in my right non-superstitious mind thought my 12.12.12 will ever be or will be made special. Wonderful things that has made this day special more than its obvious date. First it was a planned meeting with a dear friend (I'm protective over his privacy, so not mentioning his name here). Three years and still counting. Great friends that comes in at the most unexpected time of life. Had dinner together, reminisced the past, laughed through out, and learnt that nothing sets distance for friendships. On the other hand, while I was on my way from work to meet le' friend, I boarded the train, and it was not a co-incidence yet to find a seat right beside this young pretty lady carrying her books from Big Bad Wolfs. That intrigued me to make an approach. Being the bookworm I am. Just as we started talking roughly on our backgrounds and the legit interest in reading, I decided to introduce her to Sukhbir's blog. This is where co-incidence kicked in. She picked up her mobile phone to note it down, and when I went saying, "You should just Google up Sukhbir Cheema." She went jaw-drop. Turned to me, "Is this the same guy from the Sri Baba Centre? Seremban?" The next thing we know, we both burst into laughter, filling the extremely quiet train that night.  The next few minutes were spent on how small the world is, how we've got to know Sukh, the magic his writing and words creates, and how we both believe he is such a beautiful soul. I've always remembered how my maternal grandmother has told me that relationships that are made in trains will live life long. Well, the world is indeed a small one. I came home that night to fill in my diary just to find myself quite suprised at how true is the fact that unexpected things always ends up in a good way. 



On a lighter note, erm, no, not really light. I've decided to brace myself  and to maintain a high level of tolerance for all these extremely dumb people, especially on Facebook  who probably was highly influenced by the movie 2012, and had been writing tons of statuses, tweets and comments on how the world is actually going to end. Oh and why? Because it just decided to rain heavily that night, and the storms just had to come to help the Mayans feel better about themselves for fooling us many of them. Here's a picture which I think sums it up to what they Mayans were really up to. Mayans, trolling since 250 AD. 

Lately, I've been travelling way too much in the train due to work. The beautiful part of it is that I get to see tons of people, all different from each other, equally unique in their own way. Besides the ones in the train, I also get to know a huge circle of people, because well, I'm brown! We're always known for having this extremely big family. Two mahjong papers wont fit enough for a family tree. Trust me on this. So yes, people. Immediate family, extended family, extended-extended family, their in laws, their grandchildren, their cousins and the list goes on and on! 

Upon meeting all these people, (which I sometimes feel all of you are imaginary people living in my head & that you don't exist for real), I came across and thought a few reasons on why I think the world will not effing end! Yet! 


1. The Mayan calendar doesn’t really end.

2. The Mayans find this hole thing amusing

3. If the so-called Planet X were headed our way, we’d know it by now.

4. Solar flares are not that big a deal.

5. Nostradamus seems to have overlooked it.

6. Hollywood is a poor predictor of doomsday scenarios. Duh!

7. Polar shift probably won’t be fatal.

8. Buttholes like this fellas are still living! I bet you, they possibly hear footsteps behind them and I'm sure its not the police, its karma catching up on them. 

9. There are still people who stereotype. The one's I always hear is either gender discrimination or either  it has to do race, religion, caste. People who does this are just bunch of humans that can never accept the fact that everyone is different from one another, and you'll just keep judging them through their life as though they had a choice to choose from, to be born into a religion and not another, or a a lower caste and not a higher. This is just pure bullshit!  

10. The last one, I think the world wont end too soon, because, just because the tiny bit of humanity, emotions, love, care, faith and respect still exists in a few of us, despite the hectic, occupied schedule of ours, there are still people who stops a minute to donate to the disabled sitting by the platform, and there are still people who actually sends out great vibes through their smile. And not to forget, endless quotes on Facebook and Twitter that keeps reminding us on how to "manage"our lives. 

Yes, the world will end someday. Maybe in fire, maybe in flood, maybe due to an exploding super volcano. Maybe at the hand of God. But it probably won’t happen in 2012. Welcome 2013 with a warm heart, and tell your heart to believe it'll just be better than the past one. Wishing everyone a blessed 2013 ahead. Happy New Year! Start planning your resolutions already! 

You Ain't Losing Your Man Card.

Emotional tears help the body get rid of toxins that we accumulate due to stress and worry.The same does not happen when tears are induced due to non-emotional reasons, such as cutting an onion, tear gas or stinging eyes. The same study also reported that women cry four times more often than men. We all know women cry more easily than men do. Women live with their emotions, while men keep them bottled up. But did you know that just as a man finds it tough to shed tears, an infant too, cannot shed tears in the first three months of its life? Men are likely to cry a few times a year, whereas most women cry at least once a month. I am reminded of what a character says in a long-forgotten novel I read years ago, “A woman needs to shed some tears and blood every month in order to stay happy.”

People are often encouraged to “have a good cry” when upset. Crying for an extended period tends to have a cathartic effect and makes you feel better. However, people who are depressed or have anxiety disorders, or even those lacking emotional insight, do not feel good after crying. It has also been found that crying is likely to have a more positive impact when conducted in the company of at least one more person rather than all alone. The support of a loved one or friend as you cry makes you feel much better.  

When a person is overwhelmingly stressed, his or her heart rate increases and the body begins to sweat. Also, crying slows the breathing and has a calming effect, thus countering the body’s negative state.

It is now far more acceptable for a man to cry than it was earlier. Youngsters consider male tears socially acceptable now but sadly, there is still a majority of people especially woman who thinks its "gay-ish" for men's to shed tears. Not at all. Personally, when a guy shed's his tears in front of me, my respect,love and care towards him increases rapidly. Why not? Woman's shed tears everywhere, every time. Men's shed their tears only before people they love dearly. I see no appropriate reason for one to disrespect a man who cries. Stop being such hypocrites & stereotypes. 

I find it totally alright for a men to cry in certain situations. Such as: 

1. The death of a loved one. There are few things more painful than the thought of separation from those dearest to our hearts.

2. The death of your beloved pet. A pet can feel like a member of the family. Whether a horse or dog, the bond between a man and his faithful animal runs deep.

3. When you first see the new life you and your wife created. Many a man has found himself choked up as they cradle their newborn son or daughter.

4. When you propose to the love of your life and she says yes. This should be one of the happiest days of your life. You found your best friend.

5. At the altar as you get married. Everyone in attendance loves to see the husband-to-be get a little misty-eyed as his blushing bride walks down the aisle.

6. When your beloved car or truck, especially your first one, gets totaled. There’s a bond between a man and his wheels that when severed, can really sting.

7. Visiting sites that pay tribute to those who laid down their lives for others. Whether running your fingers over the names at the Vietnam War Memorial or watching the oil leak from the sunk USS Arizona, contemplating the sacrifices made by your fellowman should make you tear up.

8. Describing a really spiritual experience. Feeling touched by a higher power can be really affecting.

9. As an athlete, after the final game/match/event that you will ever play in. You’ll never be in as good shape again. You’ll never experience this level of camaraderie again. You’ll never push yourself so hard every day. Go on and let it out.

Men cry mostly when a family member dies, when they watch a sad movie or TV show or when a girlfriend breaks up with them. Women cry over conflict, loss and empathy over another’s suffering. All in all, it’s OK to let it all out once in a while.

And, its never okay to cry in few other situations either. Here: 

1. When you favorite sports team loses. Devotion to your team is respectable. Turning into a blubbering mess when they lose, not so much.

2. When those around you are looking to you as a source of calmness and strength.Sometimes your loved ones need you to be a rock.

3. To the point of irrational thinking or paralysis when you have a job to do. I wanted to strangle Upham in Saving Private Ryan when he cried in the stairwell while his fellow soldier was being killed. When you have a job to do, get it together.

4. When you don’t get your way. Little boys cry when they don’t get what they want. Men are disappointed, but resilient.

5. When you’re frustrated. Crying because your overwhelmed and don’t know what to do is a cop out. You don’t have the strength to think of a solution, so you cry so you don’t have to think at all. Man up and figure out your next move.

6. In baseball. There’s no crying in baseball! 

Everybody comes out cleansed from the experience, feeling they have achieved something. Tears somehow seem to produce a general sense of well-being and bonhomie. Guys, Its alright to tear. Its alright to tear in front of your special one. Its totally alright. If there are people who under-rates your tears, you know where they belong to in your way of life. Its never a sign of weakness. Its a sign that you're human. Its a sign that you've hold it all back for a long time. Its a sign to let it go now. Its a sign of self-love. Trust me on this. 

Guys who cried or cries, you're all still sexy beasts. Worry less.