Guess Post- Time Pass

First cigarette

You might wonder with all the warning signs and public awareness ads people still continue to smoke cigarettes.

I'll tell you why I like smoking a cigarette.

I love that light headed feeling after you get after you smoke your first cigarette of the day,I'm not a "regular"smoker persay but i love having that "occasional cigarette" when i'm bored or drinking a nice mug of cold beer.

I'm smoking a nice B n H while i'm writing this.The whole process from lighting a cigarette to stubbing it out is an experience of sorts.I love watching the smoke twirl around in the air forming patterns and designs enticing your mind.

When you take in your first "drag" you forget everything around you.I know I cant put it in words. A cup of tea in your other hand just makes the experience a more magical one. Your throat burning with the smoke and the liquid.Its like a dance happening between the both of them in your mouth. If its the first time you're smoking i know that feeling when you’re wondering  "damn this tastes like tar" but once you get accustomed to it,nothing like it..period. When the cigarette starts to burn down you tap it.The ash falls down to the earth from whence it came.Good music added to this melange of things.Ahhh..simply serene.

Every brand has its “experience” .Like every human being unique in his/her own way , every leaf of tobacco in the cigarette plays its part.

A rainy day and a cigarette are a match made in heaven. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Gods were sitting up in their abodes smoking a pipe while its raining. The entire atmosphere created just screams at you in your ear, telling you “smoke that ciggy”. I feel the rain just amplifies that experience.

When it’s all over you stub the cigarette.  You stub it, crush the very life out of it. A companion lost in the cause of making you happy.  Then you look at what you’ve done, some feel guilty looking at that bud because of broken promises and others feel elated at the sight of it and light another one up which doesn’t really give you the same joy of that first cigarette.

P:S- The guest writer is a friend of mine- Nickil Somanna, who for some reason doesn't have a blog.  He calls this piece 'time pass' and he doesn't yet realise he can actually write

Direction

There's something about Direction that intriques me. I can't exactly say what, though. Direction is such a complex word. 'He lacks direction'-  What exactly this statement means beats me. To me, everyone has Direction or a sense of it. Everyone has goals, and it may seem comic to some, but to them- A goal is the end result of the right 'direction'. This is my view on it. What drives you to your goal? A direction. A push, so that you get going. Start 'feeling' it. And then you'll know if it's realistic or farcical. 

How you get to what you wanted at the start is not important. Your perceptions may change. One day you wake up and decide you no longer want to be just a 'somebody'. You want to be a man of your own will. Do your own things in a way that seems right to you. In the process of being something You can relate to, You know at every step that Life is such a difficult maze. It will throw you obstacles, induce fear. It will make sure you re-think. But it will help you make the last step if you're there for the ride.

But when do you stop, rather where do you stop? Or how do you know if you have to stop.

I especially like these lines from the song Different World when it comes to the above matters

                                                   

 I thought I had it all

I had it all worked out

Just what my future held

That there would be no doubt

But then the card came up

And I took another turn

But I don't know if it's

Fulfillment that I yearn.

Let's now talk about Direction in the lesser sense. Long term goals need a 'direction', one that includes realising short term ones. But what if your immediate future makes no sense? What if you're not happy now, even as you convince yourself that 'this' is a pre-requisite to What you want in the future. What if your view of the beautiful starry night is blocked because it's cloudy.

Is the juice worth the squeeze then?:P

Traffic

A few people once told me that I would eventually love Bangalore. I seriously do not like living here. I do not feel at home. The air seriously is different. There are times when you're standing suffocated in a crowded bus, and you actually gasp for air. There are times when I wait by the side of the road for more than half an hour and just wait some more as the crowded Public transport passes me by. After a long wait, with my thoughts set on just getting a move on, if luck is on my side, I finally catch a Bus that has a seat to offer me, which, trust me, is a rarity.

Once on the bus, I plug in my player and close my eyes. The gentle breeze floating across the open window feels good on my face. It is for exactly this I am willing to wait a while for. If it wasn't for the seat, I would end the day the same way I end most days, albeit, with a headache. It takes around an hour and a half to get to work. At those bottleneck junctions, you will see all kinds of people. Selling newspapers, bangles, flowers, etc. You will spot a few 'hijras'. If you're not lucky to catch a bus, you eventually end up taking a cab. And you do not want to be sitting next to the Driver as a hijra walks by. You have a false sense of security and ego. You almost convince yourself to not pay up. It's impossible. There goes the 10 bucks that you wanted to use at the next bus stop.

Most times, we end up in a stand-still at a Railway crossing every morning. I count the number of bogeys as the goods train breezes by. You can actually sense other people counting too. 49 I say, but the guy next to me says 48. You actually wonder where you went wrong. It's a nice moment. Masks the hell that Bangalore Traffic is all about. Sometimes you wish Traffic is bad. 'Cause that's when you can take a nice nap or listen to some timeless songs.  
But the days the traffic is bad are the days you have to get to work early.

~

The Light morning drizzle,

Why not take a swivel?

The sun through the clouds,

both the quiets and louds.

The smell of wet Earth,

And everything that's worth.

Wet Grass and dew,

Is everything to rue.

The waves and shore,

The beach and even more.

The sky and its shades,

But our vision fades.

The stars in the night,

Are beacons of light.

Dreams of a distant land,

Faces in the sand.

Mountains standing tall,

Fathering avalanches that fall.

The white of the snow,

But the dark is a blow.

Yin and Yang,

The little birds sang.

Birds of Life,

And all that is rife.