cogitated thoughts

It’s been a hard day’s night,
And I’ve been working like a dog.
It’s been a hard day’s night,
I should be sleeping like a log.

The only sensible thing that my school has managed to do all through this term is to put the Hindi and Comp Science exams two days after Bio…which simply means that I’ve officially finished my second set of pre boards which being the nice, friendly things that all exams are, were pretty okay for a change. Exams constitute a Mobius strip I give you my word… I’ve exams from 29th again. (Sigh)… But, for once I get five days off in succession and actually don’t have to feel too guilty about not utilizing my energy for learning some godforsaken reaction or for hitting my head against the table from time to time, eventually breaking it into a gazillion small, itsy bitsy pieces over some terrible problem. All this gives me a crazily warm and satisfactory feeling and so I decide to write something and put it on my poor blog which has been moaning and grumbling, telling me that I’m a terribly cruel person to have neglected it for so long.

‘ “Well,’’ what I like best---” and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn’t know what it was called.’
I suppose beginnings are always filled with optimism. Everything has such an excitement to it. It’s like people…my dad went to this get together of his college friends, people that were a part of his life some twenty five years ago, people that are now, just tiny fragments of his old memories that in themselves are outdated and rusted. Maybe they had a get together to talk about old times and all that…maybe they wanted to feel like their pasts are still a part of them. When he got back, I asked my father about it and with this look in his eyes that I will never forget all my life, a look that lasted only for a fleeting moment, a look I’ve never seen in those calm, patient, stable eyes; he told me that he had been terribly bored.
And the next moment things were back to normal and he was telling me about his friends in general without any regret whatsoever.

Everything that seems so perfect in the beginning slowly loses its charm, as you get too accustomed…too used to the way things are. Maybe it’s better that way…what if you got too accustomed and then had to get unaccustomed suddenly...that would be infinite times worse. But everything is in balance and we remember…we remember things that have happened and we’ve memories…and once in a while when we may want to revive those memories, things won’t quite work out the way we planned it which is why we try our hardest to live for the moment and all that jazz…we pick out the choicest incidents from our past and think about them once in a while, think about the songs we used to listen to, the books that we’ve read and feel happy or sad about them…that’s just the way it is and most of the times it’s okay with me.

They used to air the video of Enigma’s return to innocence on MTV a lot when I was a kid. I used to love it…especially the unicorn and the baby. I never tried hearing the words...never tried to understand… just listen to the music and wait with bated breath for the unicorn and the baby to appear and then feel happy about it.
‘Certain things they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone. I know that’s impossible, but it’s too bad anyway.’-Salinger. We keep going back…we keep thinking about people we’ve known, schools we’ve studied in, feelings we’ve felt, places we’ve visited…we keep looking…and now I’ve heard the words and am posting them on my goddamn blog like the words of some arbit song matter more than the unicorn and the baby.

‘If you want, then start to laugh.
If you must then start to cry,
Yourself don’t hide,
Just believe in destiny.
Don’t care what people say,
Just follow your own way
Don’t give up and lose the chance
To return to innocence.’
–Enigma.

There are so many vague, abstract, lifeless thoughts in my head…it takes a book or some other written material to form an organized mass out of the cluttered pieces and bring them to life. I try not to go around feeling bad about it though. The fact that my thoughts don’t remain that cluttered anymore fills me with deep gratitude.

What I love about certain books, is that they manage to make you love them when you read them for the first time, manage to make you love them when you read them for the second, third and fourth time…and after a while when you quit reading them completely…they’ve managed to give you so much pleasure that all you can do is to continue loving them.
I suppose there are many books that come under this category …one of them being this beautiful thing called The House at Pooh Corner by A.A Milne.
I’ll tell you the sort of book it is. It’s the sort of book, which you’ll find lying by itself in your room, when you’ll be studying for your Physics exam or doing something that has the same amount of maddening dryness in it and suddenly you’ll feel like picking it up and read just this small part of it…take a break from mugging and all that…and in no time at all you’ll find that your closing the book with this tenderness after of course reading it completely.

“What really knocks me out is a book that, when you’re all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it.’’- Holden Caulfield.I concur, but I wish I could call up Pooh, talk to Piglet, Roo, Christopher Robin and then maybe after I’ve finished talking with them I might ask for A.A Milne just for a little while on account of telling him how much I admired him and how thankful I was because he existed and all that. There are these times when all I want to do is to go around
thanking some people for their existence. Never make stuff like that known though…you’ll end up not being so thankful in a while.

I think I’m going to end this goddamn thing now. I kinda wasn’t thinking about stuff when I was writing it…or maybe I was thinking about them too much…that always kills things…too much thought. It’s like writing the right answer to a question in your exam and finishing the paper real early, and then you look around at everyone writing diligently, look outside the window, look at the sunlight seeping in through the branches of the tree right outside the window and something makes you cross the answer out and write some other crap as a replacement…things go wrong way too easily.

Everybody seems to think I’m lazy,
I don’t care I think they are crazy.
Running everywhere at such a speed,
Till they find there’s no need.
-The Beatles

Honestly, I’m not gloomy or cynical about life in general…its all about passing moments…everything’s good fun really…happiness is a warm gun.

“Pooh,” said Christopher Robin earnestly, “if I- if I’m not quite--’’he stopped and tried again---“Pooh, whatever happens, you will understand, won’t you?’’
“Understand what?”
“Oh, nothing.” He laughed and jumped to his feet.
“Come on!”
“Where?” said Pooh.“Anywhere,” said Christopher Robin.