Sunday, February 14, 2010
FEAR
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
untitled

I was born on 13th September 1989
It has been twenty years that I have been alive…. Although I’ve got nothing special to show for it.
I have lived 20 times that this earth revolved around the sun, since that fateful morning.
I don’t know what throw of dice put my soul into that girls body.
But today I feel like that the girl is me and that I am the girl.
People in the family named me after an ancient philosopher who questioned everything around her, even the origin of things!
Was it meant to be that I was to be named gargi or ami curious as to the purpose of life just because I was named gargi?
Would my whole life be completely different if I was named something other than gargi…. Like what would I be like if I had been named…umm let me think….. aatrika? Or something like that.
Why was I born on 13th sep why not 20th feb?
Why was born my fathers daughter not someone else’s?
Why wasn’t I given a choice when and where I wanted to be born?
Why wasn’t I allowed to choose what my life could have been like?
Why hadn’t someone told me that there’s a catch to this life…. A big catch like dieing?
each second after we are born, we work our ass off so that we can survive in this big bad world...just to be able to LIVE! Though we know that ultimately each n every one of us ( even to the stinking king of the bacterial colony residing in my brothers toe nail) is gonna perish, die, sleep forever.
Its as if you are compelled to read a book(thriller) whose end you already know!
My Question being isn't it the right of the reader not to read the book, if he doesn't want to?
Shouldn't it be the right of the person living not to live his life to the end that awaits him?
Y wouldn't one want to die as soon as they are born when they know they'll eventually die.
What if I hadn’t wanted to be born?
If it’s supposed to be me born on 13th sep 89 at 10.37 am…… if its all written out.
Whats the point of me living it… why don’t they (who ever they are!) tell me the epilogue to my story !
But what if its not, so in that case why was I born?
Whats the purpose of my life?
I must have been brought into existence for some purpose, to do a particular work!
How do I know what I was born to do? What if I don’t know and I am not able to knit my part of thread into the tapestry of life?
What if all this is great joke some super advanced genetic engineer played on me?
He could have made me as an experiment…. And fed a software into my brain about this universe? People all around me could be just figment of my imagination.
He could make me a clone and I wouldn’t even know the difference between us.
Is she me or am I her?
Who is who?
Do I have the soul or does she?
Does a thing called soul even exist? Where does it come from?
Did the engineer randomly flip through his available stock and fit me with one or is it nothing remotely like that?
Is the script of my life already written… if so who’s the director?
Or do I write it?
If I am to write it why do write it?
What is the purpose of me being alive?
What’s alive anyway? Who defines life and being alive?
If you asked me I’d tell you I am alive I breath, a perform a purpose, I ensure that a part of me still lives in the form of a child when I am no longer alive.
If you asked a rock the same question he’d tell you that he was alive too!
He is born from a larger rock, he does his function for a period of time, then he no longer is a rock. It gives birth to the soil!
If the rock is alive then aren’t I alive?
What does death mean anyway?... that you completed a life cycle?
…. That you aren’t alive anymore?
So what do you call a virus? Its never always alive never always dead.
Its none. Its both.
Well who do you think believes the truth, or they both do?
What if none of us knows the truth?
When you learn the truth about life, its as if you are a changed person altogether.
Your priorities change, your mindset changes. The aim and goal of your life would never be the same again.
Its a hard thing to know, and only a few do! That's why it becomes such a big responsibility that you treat this truth well. Because "The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing! and should therefore be treated with great caution!"When i learned this what i felt, was thus written.
As I stop writing this the question that remain in my mind is this.
What am I finally?
No one?
Anyone?
Someone?
Which one?
Who am I?
- Gargi
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Episodes in my life part I
well to start this off all i can say the most fascinating person i find in this whole world is ME!
if u think thats a bit self-centered... then u dont know me!
i am NOT a bit self-centered i am wholly self-centered.
what i suffer from is called Narcissistic personality disorder!
today i was reminded a COOL incident.... when i was 8 n half months old i spoke my first word!..
just like in the Ad where the kid says Czechoslovakia!..
Dad had just told maa its raining...
and i said " PAPA BARISH(rain)!!!
and i so do love when it rains. all good things happen when it rains! well it does make me i little LUNATIC though.
just like a full moon does.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
A Dream is...

Dream is warm blanket on a winter morn…
Dream is feeling…
Dream is steam rising from a cup of coffee…
Dream is being understood…
Dream is a smile from a total stranger…
Dream is skydiving…
Dream is fusion of wildflowers on the street…
Dream is a need for peace…
Dream is the waning sun on a beach…
Dream is a surprise gift…
Dream is a rainbow on a bad luck day…
Dream is freedom…
Dream is appreciation of a well cooked meal…
Dream is the forbidden thrill…
Dream is being 100…
Dream is an outlet to uncontrolled rage…
Dream is candlelight…
Dream is my finger griped by an infant…
Dream is a quest for the love…
Dream is the matching pair of earring…
Dream is laughing…
Dream is a hot soak after a hectic day…
Dream is a personal library…
Dream is Earth’s aroma after a slight drizzle…
Dream is a need for peace…
Dream is knowing how to drive a car…
Dream is owning a house...
Dream is rising sun from a mountain top…
Dream is a song that make’s me cry…
Dream is a letter in the post…
Dream is midnight snow…
Dream is stomach aching laugh…
Dream is a nasty fight with my best friend…
Dream is taking a stand…
Dream is the jangling of glass bangles…
Dream is leaving a mark…
Dream is dewdrops on grass…
Dream is popcorn in theater…
Dream is Indian forest service…
Dream is watching stars come out…
Dream is getting a book for gift…
Dream is studying 12 hours nonstop…
Dream is satisfaction…
Dream is friends who don’t use & throw me…
Dream is unflinching loyalty…
Dream is being able to write what I feel…
Dream is going to seven sisters…
Dream is a hand made card…
Dream is a kiss on head…
Dream is an A one camera…
Dream is the smell of Johnson’s baby powder…
Dream is a close circle of friends…
Dream is speaking truth no matter what…
Dream is the perfect picture taken…
Dream is writing what I think…
Dream is thinking my heart’s desire…
Dream is my very own mistake…
Dream is talking the whole night with my dad…
Dream is intuition…
Dream is the signing of non-nuclear treaty with my brother…
Dream is being cared for…
Dream is my mom’s unwavering support…
Dream is a vacation…
Dream is snuggling with my dadi…
Dream is being loved no matter what…
Dream is doing what I love…
Dream is being someone’s first & last thought…
Dream is independence…
Dream is finding that perfect partner…
Dream is thunderstorm…
Dream is a walk through the forest…
Dream is wanting…
Dream is being someone’s whole world…
Dream is the difference between lust and love…
Dream is cloud watching…
Dream is a laboriously made sketch…
Dream is dreaming…
Dream for me is a,
Blue colored butterfly
That flutters by in my mind…
Dream is…
Dream IS me!
Monday, October 12, 2009
My Dreams

Bring me all of your dreams,
You dreamer,
Bring me all your
Heart melodies
That I may wrap them
In a blue cloud-cloth
Away from the too-rough fingers
Of the world.
In the world I live, weaving dreams, envisioning your future even general wool gathering is an punishable offence.
No wonder I am punished so often!
I’ve had to hide my dreams (mundane every day sort too) from these people, who’d scoff or at the least laugh on my dreams.
Still I dare to dream!
When you steal something you know you have to pay back some way….
I still steal myself a handful of happiness, knowing that I’ll have to pay it back some way or the other.
Until a couple or years back I was afraid of laughing…. Never knowing when you’d have to cry. Now when I laugh I am afraid of paying for it.
So people who don’t want me to be happy or those cant see me happy, are so not welcome in my world!
Because there are already so many people here with their idea for my happiness, that they forget I am a human too. Not a robot that they can think for me, that they can weave dreams for me.
Its some thing that I am entitled to do.
Some people on one hand count me as an adult, able to take on responsibilities, but on other hand consider me unable to take decisions for my self, that I am entitled to make.
What if it’s a mistake, then it’ll be my mistake.
Oh I so want to break away from this limbo that I am in…..
Happiness is a costly dream! This I now know.
a series of poems that i wrote on my dreams......... continued.
The way You Are!

Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The" X" chromosome

It all started with me bringing home some articles I bought in an exhibition, on my way home!
What happened was this, as I entered the threshold to my room, a gruff voice asked me-“ whats all this? Don’t you have better sense than to splurge my hard earned money?
Anyway does these things even have a use? I know those things wont see the light of day till next year, when you bring more things to stash in that vault of yours...."
FYI that’s my DAD….
As it happens I bought a pair of flashy pretty pink envelops and a wooden box with cute little flowers on the top! Usually I dont a splurge , I AM frugal! They were only 40 and 70 bucks respectively.
I don’t spend money unwisely but a couple of times in a year that wise part of my head goes out to graze…
So I told Dad-“ Those are my spare X chromosomes fault!”
I mean whats a girl to do if its in her genes…….
Actually the women of PLEISTOCENE EPOCH, early human evolution are responsible for my predicament.
Don’t scoff! I am telling you they are responsible………
Lets see why?
As you may know a guys has one X and one Y chromosome, on the other hand We “the reason that this species is ensured it can see its next generation” have two of those X chromosome.
So between three X and a Y Chr…. Y’s the odd one out! Yes sire they are the oddity in life!
Any self respecting biology student knows that the male of this species evolved after the females did…. Read the parthenogenesis theory!
To get back to the topic at hand Homo sapiens culturally evolved from Cro-Magnon.
Not Neanderthal’s as is generally assumed, though guys are worse than them!
I keep getting side tracked bitching about guys.
About a couple of million’s of year ago I would be sitting in a cave,
While the y chromosome would be out on a testosterone high.
Doing God know(literally & figuratively) what! More to the point he’d be out ensuring that his counterpart had food in her belly so that they could survive! Which they do still(and I appreciate it)…they just don’t take into account that we cant do that easily enough today.
On the other hand I would be roaming around making sure that the living space was as comfortable as possible. I’d search out side for things to make the space around us better to live. I’d collect and hoard some pretty things. I’d barter and haggle over the best that I could possibly afford. To make that cave a home.
Which ultimately is why the Y Chr ( as I like to call them ) chose to live with us, because we take a place and make it HOME. We ensure that they can live peacefully to see there lineage go on.
Otherwise they still be living in a cave.
The fact that each and every one of us has a part from the last common known ancestor known as LUCY ( did u notice it’s a female) and suppose it was me sitting in a cave ,
I’d have the same urges to collect and hoard those pretty useless things as my DAD(aka Y Chr.) called them.
If even once every 10 years your intel goes out to graze leaving your gene’s in charge
You can still call it your heritage!
And damn the Y Chr their view’s, they can take it or leave it.
Even grumbling they always take it, what other option do they have?
Yours-
XX