A toast to a new beginning

He waited. He waited for her to come along and lift him up. For her to alleviate him, make him feel like the world's worth his time. She came, she saw, she jeered, she mocked, she spat, she flitted.

She hung on. She clutched on to dear life. She didn't want much. When her uncle asked her what was the one thing she most wanted in the world, she simply said "to be found." She was never convinced though, that her prince in spick and shiny armour would arrive. After a while, she didn't want to be found, she was revelling in her misery. Ironic, because of her feet. Oh her feet. Her lovely lithe feet. Feet that could make the greatest ballet dancer cringe in inadequacy.

He was hurt. He least expected this, let alone from her. Worry not, he told himself. He was given a hand in due time, by whom you ask, that never mattered. He, was, by now, a bit flustered. He didn't expect this, you see. He was now clueless.

He didn't want to, but he had to, go around.

She didn't want to, but she had to, go around.

And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden

Fret not, this is only the fourth time I'm starting to write a post and hopefully this time, I won't abandon mid way. That last time the first line read "third" time doesn't help matters, but what the heck.

I'm feeling a strange air around me. My tendons are lazy, my loins are screaming for some attention, my mind has almost completed its nth plot against me - or so I'm told - and my life is threatening to enter into its usually complicated and depressing state. Again, fret not.

There are, as usual, things that have been bothering me. My work for starters. I've got this lovely job, really. Wherever I go, work related, there are cars and bikes, nothing else, AND I work from home, so that implies that there's no traffucking, no silent judgments being passed by colleagues, no gossips to be heard etc etc. I have all the time in the world to be languid and better yet, I'm all alone at home in the day and we all know how much I love my alone time.

But, if there's one thing I learnt from my previous job, it is that I lack a bit of initiative. I was all quiet and subdued whilst in TOI and wasn't really forthcoming at any point of time. I'd do the job given to me, but I was never the one to prop my hand in the air and say "I'll do it" when it mattered, or even when it didn't. Working from home negates any real change I might have sought to bring. There's only so much initiative I can show staying miles away from my boss.

And, I've got enough time to finish my stories here, rewrite them over and over again, enough times to keep my nagging pedantic voice in the head satisfied. The saddest part of working from home if probably the fact that I have to make my own tea, I've never really liked the tea those machines spit out, so it's not all that bad I guess.

Bah! When will I stop whining?

Title courtesy: Woodstock by Joni Mitchell

An ode to madness

Dear mind,

This is to inform you that the self-induced social exclusion that you imposed on all of us is now officially over. You have no say in this, you should've sensed a revolution when it was brewing. You happily chose to ignore the signs and now you've got nothing but yourself to blame.

This means that there's no more deliberate refusal of social meetings, no unhindered introspection and most definitely no deliberate ending of conversations with even the well-intended.

Thank you,

Karthik H

PS: This might sting, but the voices agree with me. Ciao.