Guitar Zero

I haven’t played my guitar for a while now. It’s been lying in the corner of my bedroom, gathering dust (thankfully it’s in a nice foam case so the guitar itself shouldn’t have too much dust on it) and catching my eye every morning.

It gives me this glare that says, “You jerk. I took you through the hardest times of your life, I was a part of every happy and sad moment, right there on your shoulder. And now, THIS is how you treat me? Throw me in a corner next to a rickety old table? Oh and don’t get me started on my sisters. Poor electric was at your first real public performance, and now look at her – bent over, strings rusted beyond recognition and with wires inside looking sicker than your fat ugly face! And of course, my elder sister, your ex. Yamaha’s been bed-ridden ever since you snapped her neck. Yes, don’t think we’ve forgotten what you’ve done to her. To us, you sick freak!”

I keep telling her “I’m sorry, babe. I’ve been busy with work, you know that! I’ve tried…I did go to the store to see if you guys could be done up and back to your former beautiful selves again – of course I’d gone there for a completely other reason (work related, you know). And it’s not like I’m doing this on purpose. You know I’ve always loved all of you. I miss holding you in my arms, caressing your sweet curves, taking in the smell of polished wood and plucking at your strings. You know I want all of that back again.”

And you thought you had girl trouble? Psh. To quote the great Jay-Z - If you havin’ girl problems, I feel bad for you son. I got 99 problems, and my guitars’ one.

Okay so maybe he didn’t say it exactly like that. But you get the drift. I need more time for my music.

Three's Company

I'm starting to wonder,
I'm starting to think.
I'm starting to make my decisions in ink.

For no one else knows,
For no one else speaks.
For no one else sees that my guiltiness reeks.

It's no longer easy,
It's no longer sweet.
It's no longer nothing, it's now a feat.

There's nothing inside me,
There's nothing to hold.
There's nothing to say, it's all untold.

Take me away,
Take me today.
Take me somewhere, on my knees I pray.

Giving up my soul,
Giving up my past.
Giving up my sorrows, my sadness, at last.

It's over,
It's done.
It's finished, my son.

Fuck Outta Luck

Stop expecting things from me. I can’t do this anymore. The pressure. The solitude. The damn pressure.

That shit gets to you, you know? It’s like taking a leak and you have to push it all out as fast as you can because if you don’t you’re gonna miss the train you got off from, and in the end you end up shitting your pants, running with a turd rolling down your leg and crying to yourself. And the only reason you wouldn’t go use the toilet on the train is because you thought it was unhygienic. Oh well, at least it’s your own shit that’s now found its way into your sock and shoe, making a squishy sound with every step you take. And now you’re banished from the booth on the train by the rest of its occupants for obvious reasons. Yep, your life sucks.

What do you do then? What do you do when life literally takes a dump on you, leaving you depressed, covered in your own shit and just plain old fuck-out-of-luck?

You rise up. You stand up. You strip down to your bare bones, no matter how embarrassing to the public eye it may seem. You throw away every single piece of clothing that’s covered in everything that was wrong with your life. You take a deep breath (not too deep, you’re still smelling of shit – you might puke) bite the bullet and face your fears. Face every single thing you’ve feared in that little room you refused to step into.

Don’t close your eyes, you’ll only slip and fall to the ground, probably covered in someone else’s shit. Eyes open. Aware of what you’re doing. Aware of every feeling, every emotion that’s racing through your veins.

Your fears are only as big as you make them out to be. The more you watch them, the more you learn about them. The more you know just how and when they strike and just how much they affect you. And the more you know, the lesser that effect on you becomes. You learn how to overcome them and be free to make your destiny. You’re free to open the tap, let the water wash away every single piece of you that was shit and step away a clean man.

Put on a change of clothes (and lots of deodorant to make up for your shitty life before – people will appreciate that more) and you’ve got yourself a whole life ahead of you that’s filled with nothing but endless opportunity.

Leaving It Behind

I didn’t know what to expect, really.

I’d been waiting for about half an hour already (late – check) and I hadn’t even gotten a call or a text from her apologizing for the delay (snob – check).  Already done with a cup of coffee and half an hour’s worth of my Twitter feed, I didn’t know what else to do to pass time.

There was a kid sitting at the table in front of me with his mum. She was trying to read the newspaper and have her tea, but the boy kept asking her questions about fish and other marine life. He’s going to be a marine biologist for sure, I thought. Or at least own an aquarium for a few months until he found his next obsession.

Anyway, the kid was at the next table. This had meant that even though I had a cigarette lying in front of me on top of its carton with my trusty lighter right next to it, I couldn’t light the damn thing. I have this thing of not smoking in front of kids, no matter what.  I guess I want to set a good example to them. Smoking really is a sick and disgusting habit. It does nothing but hasten you to your death bed. That is, if you’re lucky enough to have a death bed. You could just end up having a heart attack on your bike in the middle of the road and then crash into the truck in front of you that you’d been trying to overtake for the past 20 minutes, and then ricochet off the bridge and into the cold, dark (smelly) waters of the Hussain Sagar. A triple-threat. And No death-bed. THAT’s a bad hand to be dealt.

So I don’t smoke in front of kids.

My hands were itching. I either needed to go all the way down and order another coffee or pretend that the kid wasn’t there and light up. But that wasn’t going to happen.

I got up, turned around, and there she was – smiling, brushing back the hair from her face and just being gorgeous. She was late, but I didn’t care. She wasn’t apologetic about being late, but I didn’t care.

We said “hello” and she sat down in front of me, blocking my view of the kid (now explaining to his mum why octopi had sucker-like-disgusting thingies on their limbs). I still couldn’t smoke but it didn’t matter. She was here.

We spoke a lot; college, life in the two cities we’d both lived in, families, how living in India’s a pain in the ass and a lot more. She smiled all through. I was mesmerized by her. I had 3 more cups of coffee. I knew I was going to regret it later on, but I didn’t want her to stop talking. The way she spoke with just that tiny hint of a South Indian accent – I was hooked.

We finally got up to leave a couple of hours later. I offered to drop her home and she accepted.

We hardly spoke on the ride to her place, but I didn’t care. The conversation we had at the coffee shop was still running through my head.

When we finally reached the end of her lane, she got off the bike, said she had a really nice time, smiled again and left. I watched her walk down the road for a few seconds, and then decided it would be stalker-ish to wait any longer. I turned my bike around, but stole one last glance as I did. She didn’t look back. I didn’t care.

As I lay awake in bed that night, replaying the whole conversation again in my head, I realized something - I had left the cigarette, lighter and carton back at the coffee shop on the table.

POV

I tried to make her see the point, but she just wouldn't budge.

She tried to make me see her point, but I just wouldn't budge.

It’s hard to convince people who’re stubborn as hell to change their minds about something. Especially when it’s things they really believe in. I guess it’s good in a way. You could say that they're really principled and true to themselves. That they’re loyal.

But how do you learn to differentiate between being true to yourself and being selfish? They’re two completely different concepts that still manage to overlap each other because they complement each other so well.

Which brings me back to this. I knew I wasn't going to change my mind about what I thought and felt because in my heart I knew that it was true and I was dead certain about it. She felt the same way about her assumptions and beliefs.

So what are two stubborn minds supposed to do when that happens? Shut the hell up and move on? Or continue to try talking things out and attempt converting the other until they finally give in?

You move on. Because you obviously cannot see her point and she obviously cannot see yours. It’s just too damn hard to get someone to see things through your eyes. Or maybe they do, but just aren't willing to believe what they see because it’s not their problem anymore.

Of course, it really sucks that it has to be that way, but it’s for the best. You may not get what you want, and she won’t either. But at least you've got yourself to hold on to. You’re not making a mistake for staying true to yourself. And the line that separates you from being a selfish jerk? Well, you don’t need to worry about that. Because when it all comes down to the wire, nobody will give a shit about you more than yourself. That’s the way life is, and that’s the way it’s always going to be.

You are your own boss. She is her own.

And that’s why I wasn’t able to take my dog Brandy out for a walk in the rain.