The Evening Revisited

After a seriously pathetic attempt(The Evening Part2), I feel the need to redeem myself. To my own surprise I have decided to not delete The Evening, and let it be a mark of my true writing abilities, I have confessed I am not very good at poetry, same could be said for prose. Oh, The Evening part-1 was much worse, as a couple of you might remember.

I hereby declare opening up the hall of shame, for the worst of my posts, and include The Evening as my worst post.

The Evening- Part 2

Note: This post belongs to Void's Hall of Shame

Part 2? You might be wondering where the hell is part one? But see, on top it says this is my kingdom, so I am free to do as I see fit. But there is a problem, you are not my subjects, you are my friends, equals at the very least, in all probability much more, so I have to have an explanation in hope you will return again.

Actually its not all that complicated, I once pencilled a memoir and called it the evening, very unfortunately I lost it with a ridiculous virus attack on my pc... so this is The Evening-Part 2... Having no connection whatsoever to The Evening- part 1.

Let me explain to you how a memoir works in my realm. Its an utterly distorted, mysted incident that might have actually happened. It is exaggerated, places exchanged, at times even two memories combined, which again might not be mine. The memoir is almost never narrated through my eyes, I might not in actuality be even present at the center stage but may be a bystander on the next table. Facts are very often very accurate, but the people and places are so much distorted that it will be hard if you want to figure out exactly what it is that I am talking about, but still an interesting read...

The Evening Part 2

It was the biggest day of his life, still my best friend was not excited. His face was the same cold mask of calm as it is everyday. He laughed politely on my tailor made joke, with a bad punch line. I wasn't sure whether he even heard it or not, but I knew his mind was on other matters. This day might be the biggest of his life, by the standards of everyone else, but I who knew him best knew it wasn't for him. I knew his mind was troubled, his thoughts running haywire. You see last night he had finally confided in me, he had fallen in love. And the thing about him was he never confides anything in anybody! Although he was a good friend to have, always putting his friends before himself and helping them, but didn't let anybody help him. His personality was such that it never appeared to anybody even he might require assistance. And he never complained. I gave him his tie with the perfect double knot, and he smiled at me, checked his Grey Suit and tie in the mirror, glanced at his watch and said, "Its time."

The rest of the evening, passed very quickly. It was the going away party- The Farewell as we called it. The casual brother of what is the convocation. We were all finally getting our degrees and stepping out in the real world. The talks on all corners centered around the coming life, mainly the jobs everyone was offered. I danced, socialized with many friends. He spent the evening in a corner, near the water table. Having a word with anyone who stopped by. He was lately being considered an outcast, he had not sat for an interview with any company that has visited the campus in the last year of our studies and everyone thought he wasn't eligible. Many people were even surprised to see him, because they thought he was repeating the year. At long last, the ceremony started. Names rolled on one by one, each person's achievement through four years of college highlighted. As expected by many, including me (although for different reason, for I knew the truth), his name was skipped over. I could see his eyes darting to a woman in a stunning yet simple blue dress. He smiled when their eyes met, raised his glass to her and bowed. She smiled back, albeit a bit surprised. As the names of 350 people were being called one by one, I saw the two get together and exchange a few words. She laughed and left, to a black haired, black suited handsome man, walking down from the stage, who took her arm. They walked away, happy in each other's company. A shadow crossed my friend's eyes, but it went away as quickly as it had come. Finally we were at the end of the 352, to be exact. And suddenly our host called for our attention, a silent swept the room. I knew what it was, for it was I who had planned it.

"Ladies and gentleman put your hands together for the Achiever of the year, Marc Gonzalez... I am sorry, Doctor Marc Gonzalez. For, his thesis has just been approved, he will leave this college an expert, qualified above most teachers that taught him."

The Grey Suited man straightened his tie, a smile on his face, after a year's oblivion this was his moment while everyone else looked shocked. Tears rolled down my eyes, as I saw my best friend finally lifting the gold medal for topping the university and pocketing the replica PhD. The ten odd friends of his clapped vigorously in a vain attempt to lift the scattered half hearted applause. "Nobody will care," he had said, damn it he was right. As he made his way back down, I walked towards him and I instantaneously knew his eyes were searching the blue dress. But he embraced me nevertheless. He shook hands of everyone that came to congratulate him and hugged the ten people who clapped for him. In the midst of the humdrum, a hush was suddenly falling. And through the gap in the crowd I saw the black haired, black suited man on his knees, proposing to the girl in blue. I saw her nodding head, and I turned to my friend to see his eyes well up. But the tears were wiped away quickly, and he strode forward to congratulate the one in the blue dress as nothing had happened. I walked with him, half expecting him to collapse. He didn't, he hugged the one in the blue dress and wished her luck, before excusing himself. I also tried to excuse myself but caught myself in the moment, the one in the blue dress was looking at my friend walking away with the same expression in her moist eyes as my friend held a minute ago. As I finally started jogging to catch my best friend, I swear I heard her whisper, "If only."

The Hole-y Umbrealla

Note: This Blog is now part of Void's Best of Me
When you live in Mumbai, you become as accustomed to rain as you are to the sun. Rain in July is like sun in the desert, it looms continuously, slow or furious, hardly relenting its furious siege of the city until the oceans scream and promise vengeance on ships that dare to stray. And more often than not, even that is not enough. In the moments the siege cease, dark clouds haunt the sky, reminding people of the coming battle. But it takes more than a bout of rain to dampen the spirits of Mumbai, the crowds barely diminish on the local trains or buses, although everyone seem to carry the identical black umbrellas. With the same instinct that you put up your hand to shield your face against ferocious sunrays, an umbrella shoots out, the shield against the relentless rain. A few other colors and patterns obviously stand out in an otherwise impeccable black wall formed along the pedestrian paths.

In this black wall, often a trusty umbrella adorned the role of a brick. Trusty to me, not to rain. When it comes to rain, my whims are harder to match than perhaps the most inarticulate of women. In a drizzle I might want my umbrella up and in a downpour I might want to get wet. I dont know, it all depends on the mood and of course the situation. And this umbrella never complains, just a trusty comrade, used for three months and then thrown aside in a box full of garbage that nobody uses, for the rest of the year. It never complains! It has never even betrayed.

One day sitting in a classroom full of boring people and an idiotic professor, I started tinkering with my trusty comrade and to my enormous surprise I found holes in the umbrella... although tiny ones, but holes none the less. And I wondered how is it still holding the rain. But with the class my mind drifted off the subject to other interesting things as I had just noticed Angelina Jolie peeking from the crude paper cover of somebody's notebook.

In the following days, many times it crossed my head to take a look at the umbrella again. But I didnt, perhaps as inseparable as it was, I never really considered it to be of great value. How often, how wrong are we. I like to tell myself it was because I always remembered the thing at the wrong time, and I just waited for the right time to come. Unfortunately at the right time, it never came back to me. And the hole-y umbrella continued the struggle against the relentless seige. Never once it betrayed me, always up and open whenever I needed to reach somewhere in dry state. A great comrade, a worthy possession. Each penny of the mere seventy bucks I paid for it, undervalued.

I look back today, at the turn of events as by my side lies the warrior. The handle seprated, the clothe coming apart, the bars bent. The finally defeated warrior. The failure is sudden and total, without any chance of repair.

You say to me, it was just an umbrella. Of course it was, but thats not the point, is it? The holes, the beaten exterior... signs of war... yet providing constant protection. Look around to see if you can find your "Hole-y Umbrella"
Note2: This blog post is written in jest.

My Best Friends

For some reason, these six people, total strangers to me, jump first to my mind when I reminisce my friends. For me Joey, Chandler, Ross, Monica, Rachel and Phoebe represent everything that I hold dear in a friendship. The series represented a group dynamics, not much unlike any real group dynamics. Each person knew the other inside out. They helped, backed and stepped out for each other. They all had their selfish moments, they all exchanged the negative roles between them but most important of all they stuck with each other, stood up for each other and were there for each other. This is what being a friend means, when being right isnt as important as being yourself. Now the blog is not about the series called FRIENDS, but about my dead past. And its a sincere note of obligation to those who stood by me, in worst of my times.

The first memories of friends, bring back images filled with laughters and tears, the defining moments and a carefree time. For they are images of a distant past, the time we called childhood. Since an early age, I was able to form a closed knit group around me. And I have had some ferociously loyal friends, and at a time when I didnt understand the true implication of having friends. When I look back, I find myself wondering how big an idiot must I have been to not know what the best of my friends did for me. It was release from a tyrant rule of parents, into a world where my opinion mattered and even revered (although to a lesser extent). This first group of friends I hold the dearest, because it was the innocence, the friendship at its best. We did make some pathetic attempts of staying in touch by snail mail (it was the year 1997-98), of course didnt work. Oh and I forgot, this was the first time I realized presence of girls in my life when I misunderstood (first of many times) a girl, and stampeded all over her (heart?).

Here, I must emphasize the importance of the fact that my father works in a bank. So he gets thrown around India a lot. That is to say we dont stay in a city for too long. The groups of friends, are mostly friends with each new school or living place.

The second group, I dont remember much for the simple fact that our association was brief and the end was marred by nasty incident. That was the first bitter pill of "everyone for himself", which I was to encounter a lot regularly after that.

The third group, for the first time in my life I wasnt leading, I was the lowest creature on the lowest rung. Bullied all around, I learnt the virtue of silence. Although not because of friends, but it was at this point in my life I also learnt the virtue and uselessness of truth. I chose virtue. But still, two years later I walked away with my head held high and a handful of friends, and these become frontrunners to people I call "old friends," for they continue to remain close to my heart. And of course since then, I have redeemed myself from the lowest rung to an equal. Of course there was the "everyone for himself" factor.

While I handled second and third group, a totally seprate group formed due to geographic sepration. This group wasnt noteworthy cuz, there was a detachment. A constant detatchment from everyone. Although, at the end of fourth group this group re emerged, very briefly but played a very significant role. And I love them for that, especially one person... (I will not name her, as going by tradition of no names) thank you, I still wish I could have done more for you.

The fourth group, was the first time in my life that I was so emotionally attached to other people. It was this period I found my first girlfriend, and two best friends to die for. At that time, I would have taken a bullet for any of them. The girlfriend I lost in one month, the other two in two years. The two people I cared about beyond any, had planned the lesson of "betrayal" for me in this part of my life. Three best friends, and each went his (or her) own way. Since then I have managed to patch things up with one of them, wasn't so lucky with the second one. It is funny because, in hard cold facts, the first betrayed second, I sided with second, lost first there then lost second for being friends with first. If it makes any sense whatsoever. Anyway, I have high hopes of rebuilding my friendship with "first" in the coming years. For after all, he was the closest of all friends I have ever had.

The fifth group, saw me eat the first pill of admiration. I have never admired anybody as much as I admired my new best friend. We braved many fights together, though lost most of them but I dont complain because I enjoyed everyone of them. We continue to remain good friends, and I hope it will continue.

The fifth group also saw me handle two sets of totally different friends, and perhaps this was the best time of my life. I lost the big battle, but gained much more. Then lost that too... but it doesnt matter even the memories of those two friends, who helped me realize who I am. They defined me, the fifth group and although none remains from this second group, they are never more than a moment away from my mind.

The sixth overlapped with fifth group's second and those six months, I could literally fly. Just before the strike, I was the happiest I have ever been in my life, I was like the child again. Three best friends, full of laughs and high fives. But well, life has had the knack of not letting me live in peace. It happened one fine day in January, everything broke. It dragged from there till July, when chaos... and I was to lose one by one, all three of them. Those three remain friends, it was I who was shunted. Dont get me wrong, it was my choice and decison. Rather than the group to breakdown altogether, the unstable element should leave. Two of those three still manage a polite word when they see me, which is more than I can ask for. And I am thankful for it. At this point in my life I wonder, where did the loyalty disappear?

Would you blame me if I become a cynic? Can you blame me if I dont expect life to deal the sunny side up. Can you blame me if I am reckless with not much regard for relations or friendship? I immerse myself in work, thats my cure...

"When sands of time dusts up the mirror of memories, faces fade."

I am hoping the faces will fade soon..

Casino of Bets

I told you I am a poet, this right here might be my best work till date.








The darkness is setting in,
And light aint coming in.
Hopelessness takes over,
Feel like you cant sink any lower.

The sun aint showing;
And strong winds are blowing.
Confusion spreads, chill sets
Life turned into casino of bets.

You are feeling forlorn;
In middle of a crowd u r alone.
Your mind going in circles
Chasing the dream that sparkles.

You are lost in the maze,
Of a path you have never set your gaze.
And in all the paths that we must tread,
There is deceit, there is greed.

The fear sinking in,
The doubt creeping in,
The good time, the good weather,
Will it ever come together?

The darkest secret of Satan

The reason why Satan never lost hold over Earth was because he has a dark secret, impervius to all the charms anyone else can place on. This secret is called manipulation. I write this, in contempt, for a special person, who has been in my life for many years and of course that person is the king of manipulation.


The art of manipulation takes many forms, the most common that I have found is a parent conjuring pretend monsters to instill fear in their minds like strangers who take away bad kids in a bag. Of course that manipulation borders on evil, and many will agree it to be good, but most manipulation arent that absolute. In fact the greatest trick is a series of small push and pull that you dont even feel.


Lying comes, naturally to certain people. Others are amused when they find a downright lie staring them in the face and some, like me, lose their temper. Over the years, I have walked with deceit and manipulation, a secret behind every whisper, and no sentence ever to mean what it sounds. And yet, I havent grown accustomed to it, I still believe those people and I still allow them to manipulate me to a state where I just lose it. I hate myself for it. I hate my heart to take control over my mind. I hate having to end up staring at the blank wall, and with crimson tears that never reach the eye. And yet with no one to share it with, it all bottles up inside, till I lose it.

The darkest secret of Satan was manipulation. It still is, and that is how he controls the world. Those few, who let their heart act for their brains, end up rather like me. A welled up anger, or is it depression, I know not. Lying, half truths, and other secrets that I quite never managed to understand, take the centerstage. Those, good at fluttery and manipulation win the battle, while others just dont care. And a small group battles on, for what we know to be a lost cause. But then, somebody once said

"No cause is a lost cause, until there is a fool left to fight for it."

Hope still drives me...

A Scattered Life

Have you ever been down that dark alley, layered with myst, which has signs to turns that you cant see? And that alley just stretched out, one cornerstone to another and each one as unfamiliar as the last? And you see familiar faces but cant recognize anybody? And after a while, you are no longer certain whether you are moving forward or back, having lost all sense of direction. And then a chill grips you, stifling you.

"I am no stranger to this place
Where real life and dreams collide,
And even though I fall from grace
I will keep the dreams alive."

What, you didnt think you were the only one, did you? We have all been down that road, at least those who have been lucky. I should say fortunate, lucky is such an ambiguos term. What is this road then, the path, the place or whatever the hell it is. Truth be told I dont know, I can not draw any anomaly. But lost and alone seems about the right description. A decison that went wrong in the past, misfortune and misery piled up and one strike and crash... the life is scattered.

I know not whether a solution exist, a way past the way. But allow yourself to believe when I say, it is perhaps not as bad as it looks. Positives can come out of it, and perhaps the positives is the solution. While in that rut, perhaps I still am, but I dont notice as much, I decided to keep myself occupied, with one thing or another for pleasure or for pain, I didnt give myself much time to reflect on what is stifling me. And slowly, the hold started loosening, the myst faded and the turns begin to appear. While I was despairing, my heart was in the deepest shadow, eyes closed wallowed in self pity, in those tiring moment after immeasurable labor, when I woke up I found the smallest ray of sunshine. The end of the tunnel. The smile that got lost in the dark alley was once again magically attached to my lips, heart lightened, burden off the shoulders.

And it was hope that drove me. Hope in fact is a good thing, perhaps the best of things. It was faith that willed me. I may not be out in the sun, I might still be stuck in some layers of the underground, but my heart is free again. The alley will capture your heart, and if it manages that, you have lost. Struggle, kick and scream if all else seem last. Crawl if you can not walk, but keep moving. Work so hard that death seems nearer than sleep. And when you have braved everything, death will recede, lights appear at the end of the tunnel...
Just pray its not the train!!