Letter of Resignation

I cannot help you.

This evening I went out to buy some yogurt. I wore my warmest socks and my coziest sweater and wrapped a nice thick scarf around my head because it was really cold outside. Had a chilly five-minute walk. I don’t have many of these left here since med school finishes soon. I went, met a few friends there. That part was nice since I hadn’t spoken to a soul all day as I was cooped up in my room begging myself to study for the finals. But, I digress.

As I came back, up those stairs and through those corridors, I found myself regretting that I had lost the ability to give a crap. If that is temporary or permanent, I have yet to find out. I cannot find it in me to care about your troubles anymore. I do not have it in me to listen to you sink into a pit of self-indulgence and blurt out a plethora of words I have heard you and so many speak before. I can see them form a cloud of smoke around you, as you get lost in them, talking talking talking… A copy of a copy of a copy. It’s beyond me to bear it any longer.

I didn’t use to be like this, though. I was one of those people who actually feed on other person’s neediness. People who thrive in a co-dependent relationship (if you call that thriving). I was the person who loved hearing the other person talk and loved to give solutions, if asked to, of course. I loved people more for their problems and imperfections than anything else.

But I have lost the ability to connect with you anymore. I do not have the stamina to sit and listen to you be…so common. I do not have the energy to apologize when I fail to meet some mighty and high standards of affection you have in your mind, those cultivated by ill written books and misunderstood classics. I have no place for the guilt you inflict, nor do I have the capability to address the gaping voids you wish someone would fill and the seeping cracks you wish someone would fix. It is impossible for me to go back there. I wish it would pain me more when I tell you: You are on your own. Yes, I might be around as I myself am on this journey like you. I will give you my water if you are thirsty, I will give you my food if you are hungry. But I will not chew it for you. I will slow down if you want to rest yourself. But I will not carry you.

I will not carry you.

Ode to Idiots

This post is full of shameless self praise and big-headedness,with a score of judgement on every living soul I have met. Those who take offense easy,
You’ve been warned.

people people

I am creature of impulse, not of calculation. There was once a time I regretted it, but now I don’t. When I was very young I used to think everyone around me had a better understanding of life, that they knew things I would never understand; because they had wholesome families, they lived in big houses and they drove in cars while I came from a broken home and had to travel for hours in a smelly van to get to my school.That somehow their brains were sharper than mine and their thinking much clearer and open. And by this I placed some sort of an invisible responsibility on them. That they were ‘supposed’ to give a crap about my existence and they were ‘supposed’ to understand what I was going through. There in was the birth of my resentment and deep dissatisfaction.

And school went on, and college went on. I got into med school. Same problem. I would ‘expect’ them to understand. I would ‘expect’ them to care. I would resent them if they didn’t. And most often, they didn’t. (why would they? Duh). And I always thought that it was the same thing, that I just didn’t knew any better. I made mistakes because I was lacking the typical upbringing they had.

Boy, was I wrong.

Because, man, are people dumb, deaf and blind!

They walk around as if they are the only human beings on earth, I s them talking such bullcrap that it made my eyes water with anger. Oh, I had an anger phase too. But then, I started to really look at them, really see what their patterns were and that’s when I saw a whole new kind of…dumb.

I am not an advocate of selflessness and the delusion of altruism. I was, but I no longer am. I think thinking and caring about others is a wonderful deed. It brings me great happiness too. But the idea of sacrifice is way too distorted and overrated to be held that high. I would never want my pleasure to be the cause to someone else’s pain (Ayn Rand would put it differently), but I digress.

So, I saw the very friends of mine making the same mistakes over and over. I saw them running from confrontation, keeping things in their hearts, building resentments, taking the wrong way to deal with a situation that could be dealt with so straightforwardly, lying, hiding, hurting, hating, crying, fighting their many problems, some letting the grief bury them, some putting a brave face all the time, loving those who hurt them, hurting those who had been there for them for an eternity.

They all turned out to be..so normal.

There was nothing special or different about them. They knew nothing better. Their privileges had not given them an understanding of someone else’s lacking (?). They would give the same advice I read in a magazine or watched in a movie. Their problems weren’t that different. They said or did nothing that I hadn’t seen or done before. They were just people, lost in their own worlds, trying to make it out alive. People. Just People. Ordinary. Beautiful. Tragic…people…

They didn’t know any better then, they don’t know any better now. I lost all my resentment the day I understood that. Before, I tried to be good because that was what I was taught. Because that was what I was ‘supposed’ to do.

Now I do it because I know that I know better

Try me.

hands-with-plant save

Last Week of College. Thoughts? #1

I have been walking for over two hours, all around my building, out on the road that runs in the colony, blind alleyways that lead towards houses of people I never cared enough to know (still don’t). I have been walking in all the corridors and visiting every nook and cranny of this crummy little place I spent the last five years at. Tomorrow I might go do the same thing with my college, for it is the last week of my student life. It’s ending, it’s all gonna be over by the end of this week…and I haven’t got a clue to what am I supposed to feel.

And I am not hurrying anything, nor am I trying to repress. It’ll come when it’s time. And I’ll be there to face it, armed with a paper and pen. Come, have at me. Let’s see what you got.

I don’t care anymore if anything I write is ever read again, less than I ever cared, anyhow. If it’s grammatically correct anymore, or if it makes any sense. I am just gonna put it out there and let it be. No corrections, no drafts, no rechecks, no careful sentence construction (haha), no artistic tomfoolery. Blehblahbluhbleeblahblah.

So it’s ending! It’s over ! All there’s left is a buttload of exams and then that would be it! Then I’d step into the so-called PRACTICAL LIFE, I’d be starting to work as a functioning Physician! I mean, I’d be hoping to. I’m gonna start paying my dues and rock and roll with the workforce, so to speak!

And I have been thinking and thinking so hard that I felt that the capillaries in my brain would burst and blood would run down my nose and drip on my shirt.

But that’s for later.

You know what.

Maybe I will recheck my next post.








The Dummy Song


I am at the same point in my life when I know exactly what I wanna write about but am reluctant to do so because of the inappropriateness of the matter. That point when I know of the exact feelings and thoughts I want to let go of, but am unable to do so out of some deep seated courtesy or the sheer pettiness it would be mistaken as. I am wary to pen it down because it would be perceived as a weakness, lie or deceit. I am afraid that it would fall into some mapped pattern of my behavior and be dismissed off as a predictable tick, a pathetic cry.

I’ll take the legs from some old table
I’ll take the arms from some old chair
I’ll take the neck from some old bottle
And from a horse I’ll take the hair

I know what you’re waiting for. I know what you long to see, what you crave to hear. I know just what to say that would satisfy that itch that you would deny exists. You wanna see me fail, you wanna see me broken, you wanna see me crawl with helplessness and despair. You want misery to penetrate every aspect of my presence visible to you. Or else, you just want me to disappear. You want no trace of me connecting back to you, to remind your conscious and subconscious of the terrible mistakes you made. I remind you of the failure you are. Or the possibility of such a thing to exist. And it’s not easy to confront such a revelation. Unthinkable, even.

I’ll take the hands and face from some old clock
And baby, when I’m through
I’ll get more loving from the dum, dum, dummy
Than I ever got from you

I know it. I know every single one of you to the extent that it would shock you still. You’re so naked in front of me. Bare to the bone. Yet, I loved every single one of you with all your bends and creases. I cherished every dent in your personality, every flaw in your existence. It were those imperfections that made you so human. So beautiful, so real. Each one of you was different, had a separate unshakable place in my heart and in my life. I never put you all on the same level, but gave you all the consideration and love that had no other match. Considered you unique. One of an amazing kind.

I get more loving
From that dum, dum, dummy
Than I’ve ever gotten from you
Yeah, mama, get more loving
From a dummy than I get from you

Well. What a stinking waste of time.



(Title: The Dummy Song by Louis Armstrong)

In Vain

anger girl what the hell

I wish I could walk up to a few people, look them straight in the eye and slowly say these words:

I could care less about your existence.

Your existence means nothing to me

But why on earth would I do such a mean thing?

Because they move around, building up a persona for the sake of me and everyone around them. Liking, disliking, talking and walking for the benefit and approval of those present in the vicinity. I would hate to see what true isolation would do to them…I imagine it would punch holes into their thickly garnished exterior and the vacuum inside would annihilate them as the reality of the situation would suck everything they borrowed. But still, that would be the truest they’d ever feel and the honest they’d ever act.

Why do you bother? Why do you bother hide from me, and lie to me, and talk for me when I do not care? Why do you take a step trying to affect me when in reality nothing you do or shall ever do will ever have any kind of an impact on me? Why do you soil yourself, drench yourself in filth and then make up philosophies to justify some code of morality you uphold for the sake of Godknowswho and Heavenknowswhat?  I am not jealous at your worthless accomplishments, I am not impressed by the phony attire you dab on to appear ‘different’, I am not hurt at your ‘rational’ decisions and remarks, I am not dominated by your demeanor. I pity you. I judge you. And if I could, I would avoid the shadow of your shadow…for what I do, is fear that the frustration I feel at your lack of originality, your utter obliviousness of this fact, that epitome of mediocrity that possesses every pore of your body… might one day end up charring me to my core if I get to stay near you any longer.

But then again.


I could care less.

Poof…and You’re Gone


dissolving away

It’s a day like any other day, well not any other day..it’s a Sunday like any other Sunday. It’s raining, for summers seem to have gone on a vacation at the very last second. I am the same person, wrapped in a warm wrap I bought at a sale. Nothing seems to have changed, it never usually does.

But I am going to disappear.

It’s not something new, either. I have a tendency to evaporate every few years. What happens is, either I have too much of a rotten feeling and my mind just totally gives up. Something happens, I refuse to fall, I try again. Drag myself through mud and muck, but try again. Meet three people who screw me over, blame the first two but then the third time think that maybe it’s me. People are human too, you gotta give them a chance. Everybody has innate goodness and virtue in them. Maybe I am just that dispensable.. And try again. Meet new people..make the same mistakes; try again. Become totally dipped in and disgusted of all the clichés in the world..and bam

I give up.

There’s a limit, no? There’s a limit to give and not want to have anything in return. There’s a limit to totally forget about your ego and let a friend walk all over you the moment a chance presents itself. There’s a limit to let history repeat itself. Again, and again. and again. There’s got to be an end to all this tomfoolery, to all this brain numbing madness and annihilating ignorance. Tell me there will be an end to this.

My entire life, I grew up with a single line in my head; I am invisible. And then came many people who told me I was not, and an abominable hope got seeded in my head which led to a lifelong struggle to not be invisible.


But then…everybody lies.
I had forgotten that part.


And one talks, and talks and talks. And it is of no use. You make no real connection. You can see it in their eyes that they don’t get you. There’s that dullness I can pick up from a million miles and a part of me screams to shut up. They don’t get it. And out from ignorance, hatred is born. It is so palpable. That aura of uneasiness.

I wish I had a shred in me that cared for the world I live in, the charm my friends find in the everyday life I share with them or I wish I could care less for the life they totally exclude me from. I wish, they mattered less to me and I, a little more to them.

So here’s what I do. I melt, I vanish, I evaporate in front of my very eyes. I involute. You won’t see a difference, whatsoever. But then you don’t see me, anyhow.

What a pity, to dream of a life of dignity and be caught in an epitome of mediocre melodrama. How public, like a frog, to tell one’s name…the livelong day, to an admiring bog..

It’s just the strangest thing… I’ve seen your face somewhere

looking around in a crowd

I honestly thought I was done with blogging.
I mean…really.

I mean..you’ve got your friends on one side, then you’ve got your studies and you’ve got your little dramas and you’ve got a relationship and you’re losing weight and you don’t care about social media, you don’t have that need to connect with any more people than you do and you don’t have the inclination to be your old melancholic self anymore..it’s all tied up in a neat little bow. You have no big inspiration, you have no new thoughts to share..what little you feel you jot it down somewhere. It’s all very ‘Dear Diary..’ you are uninfluenced, unfettered, well-adjusted and happy in your favourite way. Perfect Imperfection. I could kiss karma if I found the bitch.

But then March comes


Twenty Sixteen


The reason I put ‘2016’ as the title is because I couldn’t think of any. I haven’t written anything in a long long time and that isn’t just one of those ‘falling out of blogging’ things. I couldn’t write anymore. And now, as my hands fly over the rusty keys of my trusted computer…I don’t know why I am doing this. Each and every one of my friends, the ones who used to blog and write have flown far away. It feels old and distant. I feel old myself. The only though that compelled me again as I sit in a cold corner, tired after packing for my final year in medicine..is..that it is an another year. A whole new chance to start over and face a whole new set of experiences waiting for me. I am tired of the same old ways the world runs around me.

Enough is Enough.

I am not allowed to be afraid.


I have written about my heart being heavy, I have written about it being broken. I have written about being happy, I have written about being content. For anyone who ever cared and to whomsoever it ever concerened…I have written it all.

And then I stopped, for I had no new feelings to talk about, no ecstatic incidents to share. Everything was a copy of everything that had happened before and everything I saw was something I had seen before, every thought, every word and every moment. Happy sad happy sad, happy happy, elated, sad, sad, confused, confident, happy happy happy..

And there I was, once again..with that new feeling hitting my face. Again..after years. I had forgotten what it felt like to be floating in the air like a dying leaf,unknown, unanchored, weary and afraid of what would come next. Till now I was happy, adjusted. I could fight every obstacle that came my way, cut down every thorn that threatened to bruise me again. And then sleep with a deep feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction.

But I couldn’t sleep tonight. My mind was plagued with all kinds of thoughts, poisoning my existence with all kinds of doubt and apprehension.
My life is gonna change again.

Just when I had started to love it.