So today I spent time with Mike and my essay in the library at university, and it was nice.  The library was eerily quiet, I made up some stuff about my vocational development to date, and we had conversations.  Things are more or less back to normal now, with the easy camaraderie, jokes and giving me a lift home (which ended up in him finally meeting – waving to her from the car, anyway – my mother).  I’m seeing him tomorrow night to watch The Last Broadcast with his wife and sister-in-law, and I feel so blessed to have a friend who makes effort to include me and feels that he can do these things.

We spoke about the love triangle, or about aspects of it.  He said that he is past his obsession now, because nothing can ever happen, we’ve had some space (although it’s only been 5 days) and because she seems to be ruled by her husband.  Mike and I agree that we would never want to be in a relationship where we feel we have to answer to the other person, that we are sometimes subservient and that the other person is the boss.  It’s all a bit strange, because our friend doesn’t seem particularly subservient and is quite a sparky person, and yet she seems to actively toe the line when it comes to her husband’s paranoia (albeit maybe correct) about her new male friends at university.  She has been forbidden from coming to my house party at the beginning of January, because “she’s not a student” (although technically, she is), and yesterday when I was in Cabot Circus with Davina and Deena, I found out she was popping down so I would have liked to say hello, but as she was with her husband it wasn’t going to happen.  I’m glad that Mike says he is doing better – I’m not sure I believe him completely as it seems a bit premature to me, but it’s nice to hear him sound positive about it.

I wish I could say the same about me.  It’s been 5 years since I really fell in love hard for someone like this, and I feel like I’ve come so far since then, I’m a completely different person… and yet, I’m obviously not. Okay, I’m handling things again, and I’m not doing any worse than I was before either – our friendship is more or less back to normal, I’m more happy than I am sad (well, I get more wistful and wanting than really sad) because I made such a good friend, but sometimes I wish that I had a confidant like he does (which is me).  A lot of my friends I know don’t quite understand how I could want someone who is married, nor how the three of us ended up in this tangle of feelings – they just see it as entirely inappropriate, and while they aren’t necessarily wrong, it’s too simplistic a view. Mike, V and I – we’re all people with hearts and feelings and responsibilities to our own families, and just because they may be married doesn’t change the fact that they are still humans full of emotions.  Out of my friends who do understand this, I don’t get the opportunity to see them very often (maybe once every couple of weeks for an hour or so).  It’s difficult.

Mike can tell me about his infatuation (or as of today, conquering of) and explain his feelings to me. He knows that he can trust me, that I won’t judge him and that I will be his friend no matter what.  I know that I can tell Mike about my feelings for him, and that he won’t run away and he will try to understand. But it’s different – apart from the fact that it still twinges that Mike would never want me in that way, I feel like I am humbling or almost humiliating myself to explain the way that I feel and the feelings that I have to him.  It’s brave of us to cope with this, and sometimes I think we overestimate our own strength, but ultimately he’s not confessing his feelings to the person he’s feeling them for (although the three of us are all clear about who likes who – again, it’s messy).  I’m his best friend and his shoulder, and I feel privileged.  I think we’ll always be close, but it’s slightly different for me.  I wish there was someone (and by that I mean a physical someone here, I appreciate all of you guys taking the time to read this and your comments and encouragement on twitter etc.!) to whom I could pour this all out and not feel judged or told that I should move on or get over it, because they are married and have children.  I already know this, and I think I am more or less strong enough not to act on my feelings – that’s the saving grace of being able to talk to Mike about my feelings for him and he is able to listen and support me as a best friend.  But sometimes, just to have someone a little less in the thick of it than the direct object of my crush would be nice!  A confidant.

There is nothing worse than trying to work on youself and get yourself emotionally prepared for the next love of your life and have people just mess it all up. It’s a weird time when well, you haven’t been single for a very long time. People are attracted to you and some are actually taking the initative to approach you. You then have to remind yourself. This is OK. This is normal. This is what singles do. Date.

So you try to put yourself out there and well give it a shot. I have been talking  to a few guys well that are interested. It’s all very interesting because some of them have very strong connections with me and some are well not so much. Some just like the idea of me and well have forgotten that you really need to get to know me to even think that you  .. “know what I need”.. that you have discovered that you “like me.”

Just because I was either the girl that was taken, the girl that is now single. the girl that catches your eye please take the time to get to know me before you make stupid remarks. “I want to make you mine.”…..” I wanna turn your whole world around.” ….” I want love you like no one has ever.”…. “I wanna be the one for you if you allow me.”

Please take your time. Don’t push yourself on anyone. Don’t assume you got them figured out. Don’t think that its your job to fix their broken past. If your interested in someone who has a recent heart break genuinely be there for the person. Don’t make it more difficult by being selfish and forgetting their needs. If it was meant to happen it will if not please get yourself together, learn, and move on.

-JeRp

… is either real love or … infatuation.. which in my world is so  close to love that I have myself confused… time and time again.

I love falling in love.  As a matter of fact, I love it so much that sometimes I’m not sure if it’s only infatuation….?

And as much as I love falling in love I also love to find the true meaning of every word… which can’t be done since even the word Love has some 347 different meanings – so I won’t do that now … but some other fine day…night.

Anyways…

This video wasn’t made by me and the song isn’t ‘Infatuation’ but ‘If you only knew’  and it’s also about love and infatuation and all that nice thangs – with the 5 sexy Maroon 5 guys.

And my ways of ending up watching this video on youtube on this cold wednesday night heading to thursday morning with a mega snowstorm outside – are mysterious to me at this hour. But I remember starting out with searching for topics related to ….ehhh…?

Enjoy!

For all those who analyze relationships, let me put this out. I love my husband. No doubt about that.

So what was different this morning that led me to reminisce yet  another failed crush? Last night while I was doing a daily tour of my ‘friends’ profiles on Facebook I came across this one guy X whom I once had a crush on. Basically he’s dating this one girl I sorta know. At least I know how she looks. She the ‘pretty-without-makeup’ kinda girl. I went psycho for about 4 seconds and then ate gorgeous alfredo pasta with my husband and though life is beautiful.

Now back to my pathetic past.

So X is very attractive and smart (brain-wise). We worked in the same organization- yes despite my lack of a Bachelors degree I got the job. It was for a copy writer for the lifestyle section of a newspaper. My editor loves fashion and I do too. That’s how I got the job I guess.

Anyway back to X. So at the time I kinda hatched a devious scheme with another guy friend of mine, who had a thing for me and also knew X pretty well, to set X and I up on a ‘blind’ date. I still don’t know why but he introduced X and I and although X is way hotter than I am/was, it didn’t deter me from hoping for something. In fact he seemed to come around once I started text messaging him and he was even replying back. I was so thrilled that finally some spark of interest in my lackluster love life. My life was starting to look more exciting.

A week later I made up some crap reason to meet him at work. I even wore a pretty top and tried to make the most of my decently in-shape body. I don’t know what he thought of that but I left it at that cuz I had another on-off crush popping back in my life at that point so I totally left X alone, as in, no text messages.

Then out of the blue he sends me a message saying ‘what’s up’ and my life had changed that day, well before he sent me that text message. I got engaged to some idiot (think Britney Spears). Well in my case I did it for my parents who really liked that guy and my life was looking like a mess and I just said okay to that proposal without thinking.

And to make my situation all the more complicated X knew that guy I got engaged to. Yes, that’s how much it sucked for me.

Best part yet, I broke off that engagement within a week of it. I knew I couldn’t compromise on that one thing. I just couldn’t make myself love someone.

Obviously X was gone with the wind. I never moved on from failure to launch (of that crush story) and there I just saw my life change).

Sometimes I wish we never are judged for our actions. At times I day dream about too-good-to-be-true scenarios where I’m looking the best anyone could, I’ve got the best job and I bump into X and have him awestruck.

YEAH RIGHT.

I guess I really have to not suck that much.

MELTING MOMENTS

Fiction Short Story – A Passionate Romance
By

VIKRAM KARVE

Jayashree entered my life the moment I saw her photograph on Sanjay’s desk.

And my life changed forever!

Till that moment, I had never wanted anything belonging to anyone else.

I stared transfixed at her photo, enthralled, totally captivated by her beauty.

“Sir, this is Jayashree, my wife!” Sanjay said, getting up form the swivel chair.

He picked up the framed photograph and showed it to me.

I took her picture in my hand and looked intently at her, totally mesmerized.

What a stunning beauty!

Never before had the mere sight of a woman aroused such strong passions, and a yearning desire in me to this extent.

Sanjay was talking something, but it didn’t register.

I hastily said, “Cute!” for I believe that thoughts can transmit themselves if they are strong enough!

I thought Sanjay seemed just a trifle taken aback, but he smiled, and pulled out a photo-album from the drawer.

He began showing me the photographs and started describing his home, his family, his wedding, his honeymoon – the wonderful days they had spent together in Goa.

I took the album from him and looked at a photograph of Jayashree in a bathing suit which was so revealing that she might as well have worn nothing, but she conveyed such innocence that it was obvious that she had no inkling of this.

She looked ravishing. Absolutely Breathtaking! Her exquisite body was boldly outlined under the flimsy fabric and she radiated a tantalizing sensuousness with such fervour that I could not take my eyes off her.

“Cute,” I instinctively and unthinkingly said again, and bit my lip; it was the wrong word, but Sanjay didn’t seem to mind; he didn’t even seem to be listening.

Dear Reader, before I proceed further with my story, let me tell you something about myself.

My name is Vijay. At the time of this story I was the Master of a merchant ship – an oil tanker. Sanjay was my Chief Officer – my number two!

He had joined recently and it was our first sailing together.

I had not met him earlier, but in due course he proved to be an excellent deputy. He was young, just thirty, he ran the ship efficiently and I liked him for his good qualities.

But there was something in his eyes that I could not fathom. I shut my mind to it.

It’s extraordinary how close you can be to a man and still know nothing about him.

Sometimes I wondered whether he was much more naïve or a lot more shrewd than I thought.

“Captain, may I ask you a personal question?’ Sanjay asked me one evening, the first time we went ashore.

“Sure,” I said.

“Captain, I was wondering, why didn’t you get married so far?”  Sanjay said with childlike candour.

I sipped my drink and smiled, “I don’t really know. Maybe I am not marriage-material.”

“You tried?”

“Yes.”

“You loved someone?”

I didn’t answer.

And as I thought about it, I felt depressed.

Life was passing me by.

I looked around the restaurant.

The atmosphere was gloomy-dark and quiet. It was late; almost midnight.

Sanjay offered me a cigarette.

His hands were unsteady.

He seemed to be quite drunk.

As we smoked, he lapsed into silence – his eyes closed.

When he opened his eyes, I observed a strange metamorphosis in his expression.

He looked crestfallen; close to tears.

Suddenly, he blurted out, “I wish I had never got married.”

With those few words, Sanjay had bared the secret of his marriage.

As I attempted to smoothen my startled look into a grin, I was ashamed to find that, inwardly, I was glad to hear of his misfortune.

I wondered how I could desire and yearn for Jayashree to this extent without ever having met her in flesh and blood, merely by seeing her photograph?

But it is true; my heart ached whenever I thought of her.

We sailed from Chennai port next morning, and headed for Singapore.

It was the monsoon season and the sea was rough.

As the voyage progressed, the weather swiftly deteriorated.

The ship rolled and pitched feverishly, tossed about by the angry waves.

As we neared the Strait of Malacca, I began to experience a queer sensation – a strange foreboding.

Though I was moulded in a profession where intellect habitually meets danger, I felt restless and apprehensive. I had felt and fought occasional fear before, but this was different – a premonition – a nameless type of fright; a strange feeling of dread and uneasiness.

I tried my best to dispel my fear, thrust away the strange feelings. But all my efforts failed. The nagging uneasiness persisted and soon took charge of me.

It was so dark that I couldn’t even see our ship’s forecastle. The incessant rain and treacherous sea created an eerie atmosphere. I was close to panic as we negotiated the treacherous and hazardous waters of the Strait.

As I stared into the pitch blackness which shrouded the hour moments before the breaking of dawn, a strange tocsin began sounding in my brain – a warning I could not fathom.

The ship was pitching violently. I felt sick with fear and stood gasping for air, clutching the telegraph. I had to get outside, into the fresh air, or I’d suffocate.

As I groped my way along the rail in the bridge-wing, I heard a shrill voice behind me, “Don’t go away, Captain! Please stay. I can’t handle it alone. I can’t. Please, Sir. Don’t go!”

I turned around. It was Sanjay. He looked at me beseechingly with terror and fright in his eyes.

It penetrated to me in flash of revelation what I’d done.

I had transmitted my own fear into my crew. Sanjay was the Chief Officer. For him, to confess in front of the crew, that he could not handle it, brought home to me the fact of how desperate he was.

I had to take control at once.” You are not supposed to handle it as long as I’m around,” I shouted. “Go down to your cabin and catch up on your sleep. I don’t want passengers on the bridge. Get out from here.”

The moment those words left my mouth, I instantly regretted what I had said; but it was too late now. Sanjay was close to tears, humiliated in front of the crew. He shamefacedly left the bridge and went down to his cabin.

Suddenly, a searchlight was switched on, dead ahead. Instinctively I shouted an order to the quartermaster to swing the ship across the ship across to starboard. I crossed my fingers, desperately praying to avoid a collision. It was a near-miss, but the searchlight kept following our sheer to starboard.

I was angry now. I stopped the engines, picked up the loudhailer, rushed out the bridge-wing, leaned over, and shouted, “You stupid fools. Are you crazy? What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“We are in distress,” a voice answered. “Throw us a rope.”

I called the boatswain and told him to throw over the monkey-ladder. “Be careful, and report quickly,” I told him.

Ten minutes must have passed but there was no report. The silence was disquieting, ominous. I decided to go to the deck.

Before I could move, four men entered the bridge. They were wearing hoods. As I started at the nozzle of a carbine pointed at me, comprehensive dawned on me pretty fast. This was piracy on the high seas.

Incredible, but true, I had never imagined it would happen to me.

Undecided as to my next move, I stood there feeling far from heroic. There was no question of resistance. After all, this was a merchant ship, not a man-o’-war. Saving the lives of the crew was of paramount importance. The man pointing the carbine at me said softly, “Captain, we are taking over. Don’t try anything foolish. Tell the crew.”

Suddenly, there was deep shuddering sound followed by a deafening roar. The ship rose on top of a steep quivering hill and slithered down its slope. There was a resounding thud followed by reverberating screeching vibrations. We had run aground.

Suddenly the ship lurched wildly, throwing everyone off-balance. Sanjay suddenly appeared out of nowhere, made a running dive and grabbed the carbine from the pirate.

It happened too quickly, and so unexpectedly that I was totally dumbstruck. Everyone seemed to have opened fire. Bullets wildly straddled the bridge.

There was pandemonium, as crew members joined the melee, grappling with the pirates. I hit the deck and froze.

I don’t know who pulled me up, but by then everything was calm and quit. “The pirates have been overpowered,” said the boatswain, “but the Chief Officer ……….”

I followed his gaze.

Sanjay lay on the deck, in a pool of blood.

I knelt down beside him.

His face was vacant, but he tried to focus his eyes on me, whimpering, “Jayashree, Jayashree…” I shook him, he tried to get up, but slumped back – Sanjay was dead!

Six months later I knocked on a door.

There was long wait.

Then Jayashree opened the door.

Her gorgeously stunning dazzling face took my breath away.

She was even more beautiful than her photographs.

Dressed in white sari, she looked so proud in her grief that I felt embarrassed.

I had myself not yet recovered from the shock of Sanjay’s sudden death.

I said, awkwardly, “I am Captain Vijay.”

She looked directly into my eyes and said, “So I see.” Her dark eyes were hostile.

“I am sorry about what happened. Sanjay was a brave man, and we are all proud to have known him.” My words sounded insincere and I felt acutely uncomfortable.

“Proud!” she exclaimed, her magnificent eyes flashing. “Some people might feel grateful, especially those whose life he saved.”

I was stunned by the sting of her bitterness.

Never had I felt such a burning shame; the shame of being held responsible for someone’s death.

I looked at Jayashree helplessly, pleading innocence, but it was of no use.

It was hopeless now to try and explain.

The hurt was deep, and I had to let it go in silence.

Jayashree excused herself, turned and went inside.

It was then that I remembered the real reason for my visit.

I wanted to hand over what remained of Sanjay’s personal effects; an unfinished letter, a dairy, a framed photograph.

I would first give Jayashree the unfinished letter.

Once she read the letter – probably then she would understand the real reason for Sanjay’s reckless bravery, his suicidal heroics; his desperate concern about proving his masculinity.

When Jayashree returned, she was composed.

I gave her Sanjay’s unfinished letter.

She took the letter in her dainty hands and started reading it.

As she silently read on, I saw tears well up in her eyes.

I do not know whether I did the right thing by giving her Sanjay’s unfinished letter.

Probably it would have been wiser to destroy the letter and the diary – better to leave things unspoken and unhealed.

But I had thought it would be better to exorcise the sense of guilt and shame.

Better for me.

Better for Jayashree.

Best for both of us.

It was not easy, but we both had to come to terms with ourselves.

Jayashree finished reading the letter and looked at me, her eyes cold.

I looked at Jayashree, deep into her intoxicating eyes, and she looked into my eyes too.

We looked into each other, transfixed, in silence, a deafening silence.

And suddenly Jayashree’s frozen eyes melted and she smiled.

MELTING MOMENTS

Fiction Short Story – A Passionate Romance
By

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

vikramkarve@sify.com

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

I have a horrible confession to make.

I watched Aliens last night. You know the kinda shoddy 1986 movie?

Well, I admit I usually give up on these movies within the first half an hour, but last night I decided to sit right through it, and it was only for one character.

Private Vasquez. Fucking oath.

Now I know it’s just a character, but can I have one? Please?

Now if you’ve never seen the movie I’m not going to describe the plot, so let’s all just pretend we’ve seen the movie shall we?

Private Vasquez is the quick-tongued, gun-ho Marine who gets part of one of the best quotes:

Hudson: Hey Vasquez, have you ever been mistaken for a man?

Vasquez: No… Have you?

So, I’ve developed a little infatuation, but I think I’m entitled to. And I don’t know many who would argue otherwise.

And that is my confession. I sat through two hours of some bad special effects and sometimes horrid acting just for one character. Oh well, I still can’t think of anything better I could have been doing.

- Cal.

In lifespan, souls tumble in romance at numerous phases. It is really realizable for all someone no thing their old age to feel or devolve in passion. Still, there is a sure stage in lifespan where we accomplish and everyone seems to wish love. I’m speaking about the Teen Love When a teen drops in love, it is mentioned to as Adolescent passion. It is the beginning time in life-time to sense the urge to passion the another gender. This is along the oncoming of their bodily development. Their internal secretions are ordinarily cited to as running wild and this is real much the case. Teen is a stunning situation to live because you are not of age enough to be addressed adult and you are not too little to be named a baby. Its the time where almost all young act out and when it gets to the topics of the heart, a lot of them devolve in passion. Adolescent passion has often been mentioned to as not being realizable passion. Alternatively, experts tell that a mass of feelings that adolescents gain for the another gender is chiefly puppy love.

Yet, romance being difficult to specify, it is critical that whole examples be seen at differently. Sexually, teenagers what to go through and search first hand, the variety of emotions that are linked with passion. It is thus superior to realize precisely what they are been up before you are fast to give them advice. The strongest subject that is constantly a origin of argumentation is sex activity during Teen. umteen require to experience what it is all about. Others believe that for passion to be proper there must be sexual intercourse. With the advanced reality, more and more adolescents are making selections when it gets to sex activity. In the late, when teen souls reached Teenage, this was a time for them to be espoused off. For this reason, teens cannot be totally condemned for needing to use that which has been there since time started. Still, with culture, increasingly raises have got out powerfully to condemn any passion consummation for their teenagers.

The inquiry whether this is proper romance or not, however stays as more umteen teenagers get active emotionally with other souls. One thing that we can read for certain is that, if the romance during Teen is not real; the individual involved will have to see through experience. Gratefully, Teen is only a stage of lifespan and as you grow, you will see matters and go more educated in the subject of romance. thus, the easiest thing that adolescents can do is to authorize themselves and recognize how to address themselves when it amounts to matters of the centre. Otherwise, romance is implied to be enjoyed to the highest.

Related:- Teen Love TipsTeen Love Advice

Having been on my new university course for 3 months now, and having made some really close friends who are generally a few years older than me (my closest friends on the course are 33 and 35), I’ve really been able to see how far I’ve come as a person.

Looking back at myself even 4 months ago when I had only started writing this blog, I knew myself, but myself was unsure and nervous.  I felt as if I was in a rut professionally after graduating with a good degree from a prestigious university, personally I had had “friends” who turned out not to be friends at all slander me and accuse me of things (theft, bullying) that I had and have never done, and would never do in a million years.  I took it all on the chin and just had faith that things would get better, but I knew in my heart that I didn’t know what would happen.  Would this careers guidance course be the right decision for me?  What was going to happen to me?  Had I peaked already in my life?

The answer to that last question, now I see, is an emphatic NO! Obviously I was only 23 (now 24) and to paint myself as an underdog who had it all and then lost it was more than a little unfair to myself.  I now know that I have so much going for me, so much to offer, and I am not an ugly or stupid person no matter how much certain people may endeavour to make me feel that about myself.  I deserve the best, and with this new qualification, new friends who seem to value me for me from the jump, and new confidence, I feel that I can get the best.  Once again, I’m back on track, and more than anything I’m so relieved.  I may paint myself as confident and assertive – and I am those things – but underneath I still get nervous and insecure.  Now, I finally see that I really am worth more.

I guess it’s a part of natural evolution.  I’ve grown up a lot, and although it took pointing out, I am older than my years.  I don’t feel out of place hanging out with 30-year-olds, because we have the same mentality and experiences.  People generally have trouble guessing my age (I still get ID’d for buying cigarettes on the one hand – which makes Mike LOL and envious at the same time!; on the other hand, a couple of people on my course originally thought I was late 20s because of the fact I can articulate myself and hold my own in discussions), but although I may tease my colleagues at university about receding hairlines, wrinkles and old age, I don’t feel any difference between us.  Aaliyah really had it right – age ain’t nothin’ but a number.  Usually it correlates to maturity, but not always.  At the end of the day, people are people, and we are all human.

These are things that I already knew to be true, but having them held up in front of me has forced me to accept these things as positives about myself.  It’s finally really sinking in.  And the truth of who I am as a man, as a human being, is finally coming out.  This is what I wanted to write about really, but it took the backstory above to get there! (Sorry… but I always give you the main course – no snacks here!)  I thought that I was an adult after university (by which I mean my undergraduate degree at Oxford), but it took me a bit longer.  Working at the Perfume Shop gave me a taste of the hard grind, working for not enough money and being treated like I didn’t have a brain (the saving grace was superficially decent friendships and getting to work with fragrance and deepen my knowledge of it).  My newer job at the hospital has made me see how people can be valued in their work, both monetarily and in terms of being treated like an intelligent human being.  My new course at university has helped me see what I really want to do, and now having that thrust forward has completed me and erased some of my doubts (not all, but some is certainly a step forward) about my future and my life’s purpose.

As things around me have been moving in the right direction, so I’ve been able to spread my wings and become more of who I am.  I love smoking – I’m not a moron and I know it’s not good for my health nor my voice, but I enjoy the feeling from it, the fact it kills time, and the socialising aspect of it – I think it goes hand in hand with being confident and conversational, as you often get approached by people who want a light / spare fag, and you end up conversing with strangers because you share an appreciation of nicotine!  In turn, smoking has reduced my hunger (allowing me to stick to my no-evening-snacking policy) and I’ve dropped a waist size – people at uni have christened me “good looking”, “pretty boy” and lots of other complimentary things referencing both my physical looks and my fashion style. I feel more confident in and out of my clothes – although I’m such a perfectionist that I’ll never be satisfied!  But looking at my vanity and my past issues with my own body and self-esteem, I’ve come a long way.  I feel happier in my skin physically as well as emotionally – and I’m feeling more confident to express the edgier, darker sides of myself which set me apart from others.

After years of deliberation, changing my mind and refining my ideas, I’m finally set on getting tattoos!  One is a stylised A, which you can see here; the other will be above my left collarbone mirroring it, and will be a gun.  I’ve been inspired by Rihanna’s gun tattoo, but I want it because to me a gun is a symbol of strength and power, of aggression and conflict, of edginess and darkness.  These are all things that I embody – I am tougher than some people initially assume, and I want an emblem of that grit and fire.  I feel it’s applicable to me, and also quite exciting and sexy.  And whereas before I might have balked at the permanence of a tattoo like that, now I feel mature and comfortable enough in myself to be able to wear it and pull it off.  This is me – maybe I’m a good boy gone bad, but I still have a good heart; I have just spent too long in my life pleasing others, and now I’ve finally lunged for myself with this course and am reaping the rewards much more than I ever did listening to other people’s opinions on what was best for me, I believe in my own capacity to make decisions.  I’m not an angel, I’m not a good boy, and I’m tired of portraying that.  I am me and I have a good heart and an intelligent mind, but sometimes I enjoy being provocative or sexy or pushing the boundaries.  That is just as valid a part of me, and my new friendships embrace that part of me too and love me for it.  My infatuation with a married man who has become my best friend and is actively ok with my affection and flirting and actively returns it has been a revelation to me.  We understand each other, we can control our affections (he feels the same way about someone else) and be mature adults, but we also have fun with it – we accept each other and I never felt so comfortable to be able to be so emotionally honest with someone I knew would accept me for who I am. From him I learned what it is to be a good father, a good husband, a good man, and also that whatever I’m feeling, I am a rational person and I should never feel guilty for my feelings.  I should never feel stupid, and the sign of a good friendship is being able to admit how you’re feeling and that other person accepting you for it and not telling you it’s wrong or silly.  Again, these are things I superficially knew, but feeling and living them is a whole other revelation.  I hope that my friends can one day think of me in the same way.

So my embracing my dark side instead of being afraid of it; my becoming edgier is a natural emancipation, a natural evolution of me.  I am free to be who I am, and I am proud of who I am.  I’ve felt ashamed, even in small doses, for too long.  It took a long time to get here, and I’m sure in the future I will still make mistakes and waver, but hopefully I can come back and read this post and remember my feelings right now, and that’ll keep me going.  Once a good boy goes bad, we’re gone forever – but I wish I’d gone sooner and I look forward to where I’m going and whom I’m going with.

Infatuation touches me just when I thought that it would end

Oh, but then again, it seems much more than that

But I’m not sure exactly what you’re thinking

Well, I tossed and turned all night thinking of your ways of affection

But to find that it’s not different at all

Well, I throw away my past mistakes, and contemplate my future

That’s when I say, “What the hey!”

Ah, the great words of Green Day’s ‘Going to Pasalacqua’. And if you can say that out loud, well good for you Glen Coco, you go Glen Coco! Ok…never mind, moving on…

Well, this song kinda applies to me right now. Its true. It happens to me all the time. ‘Cept its never been about the same person twice. Dayum. This sucks. It seemed like one night I was friends with them, the next BOOM! Hello feelings which left me depressed, disorientated and dazed. In that order. It made me act oddly around them, and I thought “When the hell will this end? I’m acting like a dork.” I call it ‘1039-ing people’ named after Green Day’s first album ‘1,039/Smoothed Out Slappy Hours’ where basically the whole album is about someone he likes, but can’t tell.

After just over a month which felt like the longest month of my life, they went away! Woohoo! Goodbye, talk to you never (in the words of Paris Hilton) and I was excruciatingly happy. It made me feel giddy, not as giddy as I felt before though when he would walk into a room and make my day. But it still made me feel slightly normal again, and this was good, right?

However. Recent days, it’s come back again and my heart has resumed aching and it hurts, man, it hurts! Do.not.want. Get away! On one hand it makes me happy and keeps my day going. Other hand, its depressing because I have to make a choice.

Do I:

a) Tell him.

b) Don’t tell him. (likely)

And if/when I tell him will they:

a) Freak out and never speak to me again (very likely)

b) Be OK with it and we go out (unlikely)

c) Be OK with it and remain friends

d) These options are stupid coz I’m not gonna tell him anyway, and this “crush” will go away like it did last time and its all goooooooood. (the most likely one)

You see the predicament I’m in! Bah. I think it’s time for me to grab my feelings by the throat, and mash them down where they belong. Yes, good.

Living in New England is a challenge of sorts which we, its inhabitants, must learn to endure. We bear the erratic temperature fluctuations, the gray endlessness of late fall, the raw winters, the humid summers with their persistent heat waves, and the ever-present taunt of better weather. And, so we wait, passing the time otherwise occupied with our lives, but in anticipation of those thirteen or so perfect days we are granted every year (and anything in between), just in order to feel elated by the promise of pleasant weather. In a way, it can drive a person slightly insane, adding to the peculiarities of life in four seasons in the Northeast.

If we were to look back on a New England long past, one can almost imagine the tedious lapse of dark, cold winters forced, especially – dare I say? – upon the women; those homebound warriors of a sort, awaiting, with hope, the return of seaman or soldier, or maybe the birth of their baby after a lingering pregnancy. A torturous time lag, indeed.

The stretch from November to the end of March is a lonely one, where sprits of a distilled nature aid to assuage feelings of isolation, a practice in which many New Englanders of centuries past have indulged and to which many are now wedded, particularly in the coastal areas. It helps to diminish what feels like a life sentence, where moments of quiet desperation are not infrequent; it hearkens toward passages from Jane Eyre, of forced isolation and the subsequent fretful misery that arises from it. And we all experience it, no matter where we reside – high in the mountains or on the barren coast; interred inland or obscured in the woods; it’s all the same and all too familiar, where the same questions play over and over again: When will it be spring? Where is the sun? Why do I live here? Then spring comes, and with it the assurance of sunshine and warmth, of buzzing bees and budding flowers, and with everything beginning to flourish winter is soon forgotten.

But my goal in writing this isn’t to dwell upon the climate of New England. It’s just that life here yields a remarkable metaphor for those moments when we are passing the time as we live our everyday lives waiting . . . for . . . something:  our “spring,” so to speak; that certain phenomenon into which we can pour ourselves with pure abandon; a commotion in the everyday routine which engenders the remarkable sensation of vibrancy; that intensely wild occurrence whereby we are forced to undergo a kind of crazy lunacy that keeps us anxiously awaiting that next experience, the interval of which seems ever so prolonged.  I’m talking passion.  It’s akin to trying to rack up those thirteen perfect days at once. It’s no wonder the word has its root in the Latin “peti,” meaning “suffer,” because, in a way, to be impassioned feels like torment. Have you ever been in a situation in which the intensity of feeling was so heightened that you almost wanted to stop it? That is passion, however backward that seems. Whatever the situation, you spend your time in it fearing the absence of it, and your time out of it desiring it . . . desperately.  Alicia Keys sings of this, of wanting to return to an earlier stage of infatuation when the slightest hint could drive one into a fervor, perhaps because she’s mired in stagnancy:  ”Take it back in time, When forever was minute, and eternity was a second . . . Let’s go back there . . . Have that reckless love, That crazy love, That off the wall won’t stop till I get enough kind of love, I need that love.”  Hmmm, so there it is. 

Another consideration, too, is that passion seems to be so singular, making it all the more insufferable. Even if it is seemingly a shared experience, our encounter of it, individually, is absolutely exclusive. It’s like the account of Cathy and Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights, both passionately synchronized, yet so divided in terms of their perceived outcomes, and, therefore, painfully unable to fulfill their ultimate desires, even though they could have simply risen above all of the constraining factors to do so (still, where would that lead, ultimately?). Yet, it’s human nature not to move in the direction that seems best, or, if we do, to allow ourselves the risks that may bring forth our downfall (think Tiger Woods). It’s probably the reason many marriages fail; then again, marriage can be a prison of sorts, more encompassing than the waiting, like a junkie, for the next encounter to bring forth gratification. Then there are those encounters that make us so impassioned we could cross over onto the slippery slope of borderline insanity (which I suppose could comprise a form of suffering), whereby we simply lose ourselves altogether. Certain art and literature can be prototypical of this. Wuthering Heights, which depicts it in excruciating detail, is just one of many. Kate Bush’s song, Wuthering Heights – a nod to the novel – exposes the temperamental nature of it: “How could you leave me when I needed to . . . possess you? I hated you, I loved you too.” That says it all: The need to possess in order to suspend the feelings of passion, brought forth in yet another Bush song, Oh to be in Love, when she sings, “Stop the swing of the pendulum, let us through.” This is because, oftentimes, this torture can be delicious, even when we are elevated to the near-level of madness because we know that too soon the feeling is to elude us.

So my foray into the human experience – on paper, that is – leads me to believe that, ultimately, we are not supposed to reside in a state of continual passion; rather, we are supposed to experience the overwhelming elation briefly and the torment of its dearth longer. Hell, life would be far too easy if it were the other way around!  Interestingly, all the madness it engenders was enough to have caused humanity a few centuries back to push itself toward the “divine” in order to ease their lusts and passions (see theologian John Wilkins, 17th c). As it is, the definition of passion has morphed from the Roman “suffering” to the medieval “strength of feeling,” which indicates that the passage of time alters concepts from a contextual standpoint. To wit, today, many of us see the state of being impassioned as primarily sexual or erotic, and less one of suffering or of romantic or emotional fervor.  Does it change in substance, though?

So, in the end, what are we left with?  I suppose this demonstrates that, while we are similar in our passions, we are different in our individual perceptions of it (e.g., Cathy and Heathcliff), as well as in the way the concept of it evolves through the ages, which is, subsequently, the reason behind why life experiences sometimes prove strangely contrary to our expectations – because, more often than not, none of this makes absolute sense, especially in the case of passion: we want it, yet we don’t; we wait for it, yet we can’t; we relish it, yet it’s fleeting. In essence, then, can I deduce that life is meant to be about a lot of things, but a little of the really good? How very wicked.

What can all of this mean? And why would she say yes? Oh and by the way he’s leaving for deployment on the 17th now. If someone is reading this, maybe you can help me, but please don’t be too harsh. If you’re wondering what the hell I want help with, then if you can bare the annoyance of the next big paragraph, then please help me. I’ve cried every day since last Wednesday.

Oh, if it makes a difference he’s deploying the 17th not the 23rd.

“I’ve been talking to this guy for  9 months now. and we have became closer and closer. He would always say nice things to me and tell me I’m beautiful and amazing and I making him
happy and smile and he always thought about how it would be like to be with me, and if it wasn’t for my ex he would date me (there somewhat friends) and saying stuff like “I have kissable lips, and its been on his mind for the past few months. Randomly telling me good night, when I haven’t heard from him all day. He always says he doesn’t know what he wants and his fickle and his not sure if he wants to go into a relationship and not ready for commitment. And he sees no point into
going into a relationship unless it leads to marriage. His in the Marines, and felt like a deployment won’t be fair to the girl, who ever that may be. His always been saying this stuff to me, especially
in the past week in a half. Then he tells me, yesterday, he asked this girl out, who he only has been talking for 2 weeks, just 2 weeks. He’s deploying december 23rd. And he said, they make each other happy and they blend well together. So do we. I’m just so confused, and
really hurt by it. I was up all last night crying, and I didn’t get any sleep. I think I also failed my quiz, and whenever I’m upset I feel like I’m going to be physically sick. He feels really bad, and
didn’t like telling me about him and the girl, cause he knows how much feelings I have for him. and he said he felt really bad. And my friends think there is/was something between us. And one night, he wrote a message to me when he was drunk and I just ignored what he said cause he was drunk, but then when I cleared things with him and asked we’re just friends right? he said yes, for now at least, I still don’t know what I want. And that was about a month ago. Mean his only
known this girl for two weeks, and she’s 17. and his 22. (I’m 19) Last week, he told me I had kissable lips and he thought about being with me. It just hurts to know I couldn’t have made him happy like she did, and I couldn’t had that effect on him where he wants to stop flirting around. Like really, what made him decide her, and not me? He told me right after, when he asked her out, he had feelings for me, and was serisouly considering asking me out. I just want to disappear and I feel like my heart is play-doh and someone just mushed it into nothing, He says the deployment will test their relationship, why couldn’t he chosen me. He said he had feelings for me. Its just so weird to me, with the timing and everything. And I know deployments can be very hard, mean happily married couples that have been together for 10 years, still have trouble.

Do you think its maybe just motivation for coming home? They both live in California, i live in NY, and he said its convenient for him. Also, he says we’re basically the same. Is it just infatuation? Do you think he might still have feelings for me and is nervous? My friend still thinks he may have feelings for me. Please help me out? any advice is appreciated but please don’t be too harsh.

What is romantic love? Infatuation? Passion? Chemistry? A meeting of the heart, mind and soul; a combination of all those elements that instinctively draws us to one person over another.

I rather like Dr G’s definition of love “a commitment to nurturing our own and the other’s personal growth.”  It’s hard to cling to the remnants of something masquerading as love when you use this definition. Love should be a safe haven where you can challenge and nurture each other with honesty and respect.

So where does passion fit? How do we know what is real and not some passing whimsy that will disappear once the first blush of romance has faded? You can have your cake and eat it too when it comes to passion and true love. The trick is not to get distracted by the icing. Often we are attracted to the frosting; we commit before we have tasted the cake, or considered if we would enjoy it unadorned.

I look at the couples around me. Some of my friends openly admit that they have fallen out of love and stay together for the sake of the kids, or because its easier. As if that’s all you can expect after the honeymoon years are over. Others are together and profess their love; but in reality lead their own lives. Focused on careers and individual pursuits, sharing little as a couple but worn into the groove of habit. Others are caught up in the bitterness of their divorce and are unable to relinquish the grip of the past. However there are a select few that inspire me to continue my elusive quest for the Holy Grail.

I had lunch with one such couple on Friday. They are celebrating their 29th wedding anniversary this week and are clearly still very much in love. Her eyes light up when he enters the room, his compassion and caring is evident in his awareness of her every move. Somehow the sum of the two enhances each of the individuals. It’s clear that they complement and cherish each other.

I used to get excited about every potential  new partner. I would ask myself “is this the one?” I would indulge in lengthy flirtations and protracted phone calls. Often I was reluctant for things to progress as I was hesitant to shatter the illusion of the fantasy relationship inside my head. This was far preferable to the kick of reality. Once the thrill of the chase had passed the words “what was I thinking?” often popped into my mind (and out of the mouths of my friends). I was too busy sticking my finger in the icing to notice the cake.

 In taking that leap of faith to progress a relationship the potential for failure is high but the greater the risk the greater the reward. I don’t believe that there is just “one” right person for anyone. There is no certainty but if you have the courage to open your heart, soul and mind, you can discover the select few with which you can forge a connection and trust that will continue to grow and nurture. The true test of a relationship comes in the minutiae and obstacles of everyday life. Those days when you and your partner see each other warts and all and are no longer playing the roles of Prince Charming and Snow White. That’s when you discover who is standing beside you.

I no longer wish to dawdle in the fantasy of infatuation as delicious as it may be. I would rather take the calculated risk of opening my heart and soul in the unrelenting light of reality. More often that not our choices may be flawed but in the words of Lord Alfred Tennyson “Tis better to have love and lost than never to have loved at all.”

So take the leap and when you don’t make the landing on the other side, pick up the pieces of your heart, dust off your tattered pride, learn from the experience and move on.

Enrichment Lesson 19:  Sometimes we can find love in the most unexpected places, if we look with our eyes wide open.

I hardly know you but why do I feel strongly this way about you. I tried to quit you but every time I’m near you look my way and my heart soars. So my mind is back to playing tricks again. I don’t look your way but it’s you I always see. And when you‘re not around my day just isn’t complete.

Yesterday our eyes meet for a moment and it felt so right. Tell me you felt it too.

sure, your man can really be an ass sometimes but there are also some things that make you fall for him time and again. for some, it can be just one thing. but that one thing is enough to let them forget what an ass he could be.

i came upon a friend’s facebook wall today and all she talks about lately is how in love and happy she is. i am also happy for her and i can’t help but wonder whatever her man did to make her that happy. then, i read the guy’s love notes posted on her wall and comments on their photos. they were stuff like… what he knows about her that he probably thinks other people don’t,  that she’s not just a girlfriend but someone he looks into spending life with in the future and… they’re calling each other babe! hmmm… it sounds kind of like a high school thingy to me. but if that’s what makes her crazy in love with him, that’s fine with me. besides, i don’t really know what happens when they’re together so i couldn’t just judge the guy or how my friend is stirred by men, love and relationships.

maybe i’m just too skeptical about mere words. if the guy was doing it to assure my friend of his constant love and affection, great! besides, actions can be lost or taken for granted without the words sometimes. why else would hallmark put poetry and inspirational messages on the cards when you can simply give lovely musical ones? why are bouquets of flowers usually given with note cards?

some actions can never fully interpret one’s feelings and intentions. yet sometimes, the thought of guessing for the meaning behind the actions excites us. when someone you’ve secretly admired has suddenly offered to give you a ride home and asks you out next, what do you think? it could either be something or nothing. so don’t just assume. he has to tell you what. well, some people like to keep guessing but not me. whatever works for you then.

my man acts and talks, not in facebook though. i’m just glad he’s not the show-off type… so i can do the showing off myself. hahaha! i hope to blog more about the things that make me fall in love with him everyday. so i’ll definitely be showing off what a darling he is.

for now, it’s your turn to show off. tell us what you love most about your man… that makes him different from the assholes you know or that makes you forget what an ass he is sometimes.

It’s another blog post about that girl I used to like. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while you must be really tired of hearing about her, and for that I apologise. For everyone else, if you would like to know what I’m going on about here, see the link above and scroll down to the ‘trackbacks’ tab to read the entire saga unfold, if you like. But I digress.

The whole thing keeps coming back to haunt me. Every time I notice some photos have been posted on Facebook of her (only if it appears in the news feed though, I don’t actively look every day or whatever), I always think about what could have been – what it would be like if it was me standing beside her in the picture, in a happy relationship. I hate her for rejecting me but still kinda like her and the same time. However, the fact this is about photos finally made me realise something.

I never actually properly liked her. Hell, I didn’t really know her. I was just taken in completely by her looks. It’s particularly bad since I believe relationships shouldn’t just be based on looks, but on feelings – I’d betrayed myself, basically. She’s just so unbelievably sexy, and I must admit I became (and do some extent, still am) completely taken in by her looks. I really want to try and forget about it, but as of yet, I cannot. It is probably because I haven’t really taken with any other girl since, therefore she does still hold a certain amount of power over me.

Hopefully though, I’ll eventually be able to get over this stupid infatuation. It’ll just take time.

Like most people who were some stripe or another of music nerd in high school, I’m a big fan of “Glee”. Whether it’s the absurdly fun musical numbers or the broadly drawn yet hyper self-aware stereotypes, there’s just so many things to love about it. And really, any show that features Cindi Lightballoon as a Machiavellian terror who advocates caning on the evening news gets an “A” in my book.

Not you, Hester Pryne. You get back in your box.

However, I do have one major problem with the show. No, it’s not that at its core “Glee” is about the soul crushing truth that no matter how hard you fake it, life is an endless series of embarrassments and compromises and true happiness exists only as a fleeting madness. Actually, that’s a selling point for me. Rather, my trouble with the show is much more superficial.

My problem.

Lea Michele, who stars as Rachel – the scary obsessive aspiring fameball with two gay dads – makes for some very uncomfortable viewing. And uncomfortable recap reading. And uncomfortable recap comment reading. And uncomfortable blogging.

The reason for all of this discomfort has nothing to do with her acting, her singing, or the way the character is written. Truly, I cannot fault her for anything she actually does on or outside of the show. No, my problem is petty and personal.

Ok, maybe I have a problem with this (the dumb thing she does with her hands when she hits the high notes).

Lea Michele, why do you have to be my my sister’s doppelganger? Don’t get me wrong, I love my sister. Sure, we don’t talk as much as we should, and yes, sometimes I do fantasize about sewing her mouth shut when we are together, but I still love her and wish her every happiness in the world (even when I’m actually betting against it).

But God dammit! I mean, Michele’s singing talent alone is enough to cause spark in me an uncomfortable attraction, but with the steely confidence and resolve of the character – plus the not infrequent bosom flaunting hip bends – I’m starting to feel like a nearly Oedipal sex crime with legs.

Oh well. I guess I’ll just have to purge the demons with prayer and hard work.

Or fire. Maybe fire would work.

I have not seen you for five days and I thought today would be the sixth day. At noon, in the darkness, I thought I saw your silhouette. I had to look twice and indeed it was you. What a sweet sight. But I’m back to feigning nonchalance when all I wanna do is stare at you staring at me. I am such a coward.

* the cure

I shouldn’t have ignored the warning signs for as long as I did cos there is nothing worse than a cold sneaking up on you midweek and life is still expected to go on despite bleary eyes, tissues all over the place, nose dripping, body aching and generally feeling like shit. I just wish that the world wasn’t conspiring to slather me in hand sanitizer and then put me in a bubble. Ok, I haven’t heard anything out loud and I have seen no concrete plans but from the way everyone whips out those mini bottles with clear liquid in them when I even look like I’m going to sneeze I wouldn’t be surprised. My only comfort today has been my ginger tea with lemon and honey – I swear its like drinking a hug, nothing like it.

Since half of last week was a holiday there was lots going on and I do think that my over doing it on Wednesday, Thursday and part of Friday was the reason that my immune system was breached. Even spending the weekend in chill mode detoxing couldn’t help.  I think I have finally reached that stage in life when 2 hours sleep is not enough to sustain me for a jam packed 36 hours … tragic really. I had a good run while that period lasted though. It was totally fun, as far as Thanksgivings go this may have been the best one yet. Good food, good company, good times. There were lots of people from out of town visiting that I got to catch up with and I totally needed to let loose and enjoy myself a little before confronting the stresses of life.

During one of the get togethers I happened to bump into someone I used to have a total crush on a while back. It was ridiculous how I would react when this dude was in the room – flutters in my tummy, my hand would start flipping my hair with no prompting whatsoever from my brain, eyelashes would be batted … gosh. Let’s just say in my mind when he stepped into a room all lights dimmed, there was a spotlight on him and sexy saxophone music would start playing. Sometimes a smoke machine would be in full effect but those stories will be told later. I had a thing for him and I couldn’t even explain why, there was just something about him I found intriguing. Yes I know my love for trashy romance novels and cheesy movies is showing with my descriptions, it’s a thing with me. Just focus on the imagery and don’t dwell on these side issues.

Anyhoo. Thing is I met him this past week and there was nothing. Like absolutely nothing there. Not even a hint of the fireworks or anything. Just a normal everyday conversation between two people. It’s like all of a sudden the off switch was flicked for some reason or another. Is it that I have changed that drastically and quickly or was the haze of infatuation and lust that blinded me? Regardless, I found it very curious and so did he (I have been known to be an outrageous flirt when I put my mind to it and he wondered where our special banter had fizzled off to) but bygones. It’s just a reminder not to let the hormones dictate your life and to let your brain do the thinking, not other parts of you.

I had started off wanting to write about empathy and how I met someone who seemed to have none at all then as usual my mind wandered and my fingers started typing their own random things. Next time I guess – this cold of mine is making everything, even thinking and typing seem like such a big deal and making the thought of bed and blankets sound like the best thing ever. As a side note, for those who have not yet watched Shuga, go ahead and do so. Totally awesome though a shame that its only three episodes long. And for those who are wondering what all hey hype is about, just go in with no expectations like I did and maybe you will be pleasantly surprised.

Jumping into my kaleidoscope of insanity.  I process all of my insignificant teenage thoughts.  Drama, drama, drama. Band drama.  Friend drama. Boy drama. School drama.  It’s all a little bit very redundant.

Jumping ahead of the rhythms.  I spend an hour with my lips on a vandoren mouthpiece.  Seventh chair, fourteenth chair.  It’s all the same to the rest.  It’s all the difference in the world to me.

Jumping into math class.  She sits behind me, and she’s been behind me all year.  And now she’s behind me in band.  In fourteenth chair.  She asks for help on a few questions.  I question her motives.  Welcome to my cynical life.

Jumping into his arms.  We meet for moments on the stairs.  I jokingly threaten to push him down the stairs.  He says that if anyone ever pushed me down the stairs, he’d catch me.  Mainly ’cause if he didn’t, I’d be pissed.  We hug briefly, smile, and say goodbye.

Jumping into his arms.  At least, I wish I were.  He’s taller this time, and I call him something else.  He is someone else.  I sit next to him at lunch, and melt a little bit every time he smiles.  He’s just that adorable.  We joke around, smile, and chat…but only as friends.

Jumping into my homework.  Damn.  Torture belongs in medieval Europe.  Not suburban Ohio.

Jumping into the real world.  I imagine that someday, I’ll just marry a rich guy and have a buttload of slaves servants to do all math-related work for me.

Jumping into the real real world.  I realize that in order for that to happen, I have to find a man that can handle me.

And I know, baby, just how you feel.
You’ve got to roll with the punches to get to what’s real

alice.

IIT DAYS AND MY FAILURE RACE (Part 1)

Not every love story will have a happy ending. Not every person will find the right partner in his / her first chance. But many relations break up due to wrong assumptions. Here present the experiences of a guy named Naveen and importantly his life in IIT in his own words.

Those were the days when I joined my post graduation in IIT madras. I can construe it as one of the most beautiful campuses I had ever seen. The greenery, the sea effect and the cool breeze blowing from Besant nagar beach and importantly its location in the land leased from Guindy National park gives a real feel of life in a thick jungle. Having lived in jungles made out of concrete for years, I found this place like heaven on earth. The day I was in the campus for the first time to attend the technical interview with my GATE score in hand, my senses strongly indicated that I am going to study here for the next 2 years. My senses proved right when I got my final confirmation of admission in civil engineering and I was overwhelmed with joy.

But something always bothered me like whether I am fit enough to cope up with the standards and could I be able to grasp the content and level of teaching of IIT Profs.  All my fears were uprooted on day 1 when the classes actually began and when one of my Profs showed his first appreciation for giving a reasonable answer. That gave me a confidence to start with. I could see the dedication to impart knowledge and skills in some of the Profs and wonder how some other Profs even managed to be a part of India’s most premier institute.

Having done my under grad in correspondence and having studied almost alone with defined self targets, I always felt I missed my college life and the friends I could have made in 4 continuous years. Thank God for blessing me with at least 2 years of college life which I always desired. Not to boast my selves, I used to have lot of attention from girls of other specializations and even my friends in hostel used to float compliments as a chocolate boy. Not having co-education right from my 10^th std, it happened to me that I lack something else in my life and it’s obviously a girl friend who can make a difference.

One day, while our math’s lecture was going on, a girl from the other specialization who is hot, beautiful but not so fair started glancing at me turning 130 degrees from her position. I felt good to get noticed by a pretty girl and I wished I should interact with her. Some of my friends were even so interested in the keralite and it was the time they started realizing that the girl is eyeing only me. They have already succeeded in introducing themselves to her. Any boy will certainly feel jealous when they are being ignored by a girl and her importance starts shifting on to the other. I thought like, in the world of competition and in a place like IIT where the boy girl ratio is 1 in 20, I should take the first step to introduce my selves after the class. To my surprise, the girl came to me after the class, introduced herself as Susan and gave her mobile no. That was the first shock I gone through thinking of how advanced girls are in the 21^st century.

Susan has a figure of Cleopatra and keralites are well known for their long hair and exquisite charm in their face. I then thought of the lively feminine wonders coconut oil could all bring about. Her skin color is brown, and she has sizzling eyes and has a perfect body shape. Guys used to flat seeing her from behind and they wish they become the greek prince Anthony for her once. She could establish herself a fame of love goddess in a short time with everything she inherited and no guy could take his eyes off when she passed by. Her looks are so deceiving for guys to go mad. It was disheartening that some of my friends even stopped talking to me the moment she was in touch with me. I could not digest the fact that guys could be as jealous of someone. It was hard and silly to experience their sarcastic and back staging words for the first time.

May be it was all infatuation towards her but I had no clue or clarity of what I really need from her and I what I expect from her. There were many options, the first thing girls wish to prefer will be friendship and if God permits it may end up with love but not necessarily marriage. I was so boyish to hardly know what a girl expects. I bought my first mobile Nokia 2660 with my stipend just 2 days before and the new mobile with a new hutch no introduced a new girl in my life. I thought how beautiful having a mobile is all about. The beat of one`s heart is being conveyed to the loved ones with the speed of light.

Messaging in the early days of friendship or love is always fun. People say friendship doesn’t demand any expectations. But this doesn’t hold well specially with girls. U expect them to respond and u desperately wait for their buzz. She called me over to Tifannys (it’s the well known restaurant in IITM between 2 girls’ hostels Sharavati and Sharayu) for having light snacks in the night. Where there is honey, there will be bees. Boys used to be always around Tifanys to watch the girls coming in shorts and add color to their eyes before getting back to sleep.

It was all an exciting moment as I started getting female attention for the first time in my life.

To be Continued….

Men – they are a fascinating species. At least to me, they are very fascinating. Of course, I am talking of the ones well built and who walk with a swashbuckling style. I never can do all that you know. Nor am I that powerfully built. So that muscular physique has been quite a fixation. I think from that arose my lust and passion for men. I remember the time I was in school, there was this guy who would sit next to me sometime. He did not have much of a face to look at, and yet, he was so sexy. He was well built too – okay not well-built; moderately built and he had the nicest of asses that ever came my way in the ninth standard. It was round and I could make out the shape of his bikini briefs through his trousers.

Oh, I had a crush on him for sure. But even then, I knew it would be futile to waste my time on him. He was a Moslem and he was – for lack of a subtler way to put it – spectacularly dumb.

So, though I loved to imagine we both making love, I knew I would never go beyond the lovemaking.

Fortunately, nothing happened between us. I was shy and worried about the way I was thinking about men back then and he was out and out a romeo of the worst order and degree. So, though he did at times show more than just a flicker of interest in me (He wanted me to come for the overnight school picnic and knowing what he had in mind, I faked an excuse and stayed put at home.), I always pretended to not understand and let the matter fizzle away.

I was thinking of him today. What was it about him that made me imagine him in my bed? I think it was his voice (a heavy bass one) and his countenance. It was a very raw earthy style of walking that he had and that – I remember very well – made my knees knock with excitement the moment he was around.

Oh it was very juvenile of me to think all that then. And very impulsive too. Okay not impulsive, it was more like I having a sudden attack of an obsession for that mass of manly flesh.

Sigh! Well, I am glad to have grown up. After all, I don’t think I’d like to carry around a truckload of mistakes, would I?:)

I’m normally not one to talk about my dreams, but as of late they’ve been a bit more intense and confusing.

In the last week, I’ve had two celebrity appearances during slumber time, but I only welcomed the sight of one of them. I’ll save you the trouble of guessing: I wasn’t pleased to have Robert Davi show up.

This guy.

The other celebrity to show up was Harrison Ford, but he was acting like a calm, spacey version of Bill Murray. I remember actually thinking this in my dream.

Co-starring with Mr. Ford in my most recent dream was the girl I was chastely and non-creepily obsessed with in high school, by which I mean it was an unrequited love. However, her appearance has me the most concerned about my mental health.

When I was in love with this girl, I was obscenely gun shy. A story I like to tell from this time in my life involves a multi-month flirtation that ended after I was afraid to let our legs touch when we were sitting on the same bed. In those days, I really thought of myself as an emotional castrato, minus the lovely singing voice.

I really hope that these dreams don’t mean an unconscious return to those times.

శ్రీధర్ ఇంటర్మెడియేట్ పరీక్షల లో క్లాస్ ఫస్ట్ లేదా సెకండ్ గా వస్తున్నాడు. శ్రీధర్ కి పోటీగా క్లాస్ లో చంద్రహాస్ అనే కుర్రాడు ఒకతను ఉంటున్నాడు. అయితే వాళ్ళిద్దరికీ పోటీ చదువు విషయంలోనే. మిగిలిన అన్ని విషయాలలో వాళ్ళిద్దరూ మంచి ఫ్రెండ్స్. చంద్రహాస్ ది విజయవాడే కావటం తో రోజూ ఇంటినుండే కాలేజీ కి వచ్చేవాడు. అప్పుడప్పుడూ శ్రీధర్ ని చంద్రహాస్ వాళ్ళ ఇంటికి తీసుకొని వెళ్ళేవాడు. చంద్రహాస్ వాళ్ళ అమ్మా నాన్నా గవర్నమెంట్ కాలేజీ లో లెక్చరర్లు. చంద్రహాస్ అన్న ఇంగినీరింగ్ సెకండ్ ఇయర్ లో ఉన్నాడు.
ఓ రోజు చంద్రహాస్ క్లాస్ లో ఉండగా కరస్పాండెంట్ అతనిని పిలిచాడు. చంద్రహాస్ తిరిగి క్లాస్ లోకి వచ్చిన తరవాత,”ఏంటి విషయం?” అని అడిగాడు శ్రీధర్. తనకి ఎస్ సీ స్కాలర్షిప్ వచ్చిందని చెప్పాడు చంద్రహాస్.
శ్రీధర్ వాళ్ళ క్లాస్ లో నే రామ్మూర్తి అనే అతను ఉండేవాడు. వాడు కూడా మెరిట్ స్తూడెంటే. వాడో రోజు శ్రీధర్ ని పిలిచి వాడి చేతి మీది పచ్చబొట్టు చూపించాడు. “సుస్మిత” అని ఇంగ్లీషు లో రాసి ఉంది, వాడి మణికట్టు కింద సుస్మిత అంటే క్లాస్ లో కల్లా అందం గా ఉండే అమ్మాయి.
“ఎందుకు రా, ఆ అమ్మాయి పేరు రాయించుకున్నావ్?” అన్నాడు శ్రీధర్.
“సుస్మిత ని ప్రేమిస్తున్నా రా!”, అన్నాడు రామ్మూర్తి.
నిజ జీవితం లో “ఎవరైనా ప్రెమిస్తున్నాను” అని చెబితే వినటం అదే మొదటి సారి శ్రీధర్ కి.
ఆ రాత్రి స్టడీ అవర్ లో కాన్సంట్రేషన్ అస్సలు కుదర లేదు,శ్రీధర్ కి. వాడి మనోఫలకం మీద ‘సుస్మిత ను ప్రేమిస్తున్నాను ‘ అని రామ్మూర్తి  చెప్పిన మాటలూ ఆ  తర్వాత సుస్మిత మొహమూ రిపీట్ అవ్వసాగాయి. వాడికి ఆ క్షణం లో చదువుకోవాలని ఉంది. కానీ లోపల్నించీ ఏ శక్తో వాడిని డిస్టర్బ్ చేస్తోంది. శ్రీధర్ కి భయం వేసింది. రెండు రోజుల తరవాత పరీక్షలు. “ఈ డిస్టర్బన్స్ ఇలాగే కొనసాగితే..ఎక్జాంస్ లో కూడా కాన్సంట్రేషన్ కుదరక పోతే?” ఈ ఆలోచన వచ్చింది వాడి మైండ్ లో కి. ఈ ఆలోచన  తో సుస్మిత గురించిన సంచలనం మరింత ఎక్కువైంది వాడి మైండ్ లో.
“ఏంటి?…సుస్మిత ని గానీ నేను కూడా ప్రేమిస్తున్నానా? ఒరేయ్1 పొరపాటున కూడా అలాంటి పని చెయ్యొద్దు. నువ్వు ప్రేమా దోమా అంటే చదువు చంకనాకి పోతుంది. ఇక ఎంసెట్ గురించి మర్చి పోవటమే. నాన్న నిన్ను కష్టపడి చదివిస్తున్నాడు. నాన్న నమ్మకాన్ని వమ్ముచేయొద్దు.”, తన కి తానే చెప్పుకొన్నాడు శ్రీధర్. “అయినా ప్రేమించి ఏమి చేస్తావు? పదిహేడేళ్ళ కే పెల్లిచేసుకోలేవు కదా? ఒక వేళ నాలుగైదేళ్ళు ఆగుదామను కొన్నా, అప్పటికి పరిస్థితి ఎలా ఉంటుందో ఎవరికి తెలుసు?”,ఇలా మధన పడ్డాడు వాడు.
మరుసటి రోజు క్లాస్ కి వెళ్తే సుస్మితా రామ్మూర్తీ బాగానే ఉన్నారు,లెక్చరర్ చెప్పే లెసన్ వింటూ. వాడిని మాత్రం ఆలోచనలు  చికాకు పరచ సగాయి, ప్రశాంతమైన చెరువు లో దుంగని ఎత్తి వేసినట్లు గా. దీంతో వాడికి తన మీద తనకే కోపం వచ్చింది. సుస్మితా రామ్మూర్తి ల మీద, వాళ్ళు ఏమీపట్టనట్లు గా లెసన్ వింటున్నందుకు, ఇంకా ఎక్కువ కోపం వచ్చింది.
ఈ ఆలోచనలతో కుస్తీ పడుతూనే వాడు పరీక్షలు రాశాడు. పరీక్షల్లో ఏకాగ్రత కుదర్ళేదు వాడికి. కానీ తప్పకుండా ఫస్ట్ క్లాస్ వస్తుంది . క్లాస్ ఫస్ట్ మాత్రం ఈ సారికి చంద్రహాసే! సుస్మితను ప్రేమిస్తున్నాను అనే ఆలోచన వాడి బుర్రలోకి వచ్చినప్పుడు మాత్రం వాడి మనసూ శరీరమూ ఏకమై దూది పింజలా గాలి లో తేలియాడిన అనుభూతి కలిగేది. పరీక్షలైన తరువాత, వాళ్ళ ఊరెళ్ళాడు శ్రీధర్. ఒక రోజు కాలవ లో ఈత కొట్టి వస్తుంటే,హఠాత్తు గా సుస్మిత గుర్తొచ్చింది. వెంటనే వాడికి ఇన్ని రోజులూ సుస్మిత గురించి మరిచిపోయిన విషయం కూడా అర్ధమైంది. దాంతో వాడు  చాలా సంతోష పడ్డాడు, సుస్మిత తన మైండ్ లో నుంచీ వెళ్ళిపోయినందుకు. వాడికే గనుక ఒక ముప్పై యేళ్ళు వుండి వుంటే తెలిసేది, “తను ఇంఫాట్యుయేషన్ నుంచీ బయట పడ్డానని”. వాదికి మనసు కి పట్టిన ముసురు తొలకరి కురియ కుండానే తొలగి పోయింది. దనికి కారణం వాడి అమ్మ ప్రేమ అనే చిరు గాలి కావచ్చు, వాడి నాన్న లో ప్రకాసించే ప్రశాంతత కావచ్చు.
సెలవలయ్యి కాలేజీ కి మళ్ళీ శ్రీధర్ వెళ్ళే సరికి, మండల్ కమీషన్ గొడవలు మొదలయ్యాయి. దేశం లో కుల రాజకీయాలు ఊపందుకున్నాయి.

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్  వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ – ఒకటవ భాగం

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్  వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ -రెండవ భాగం

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్  వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ -మూడవ భాగం

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్  వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ -నాలుగవ భాగం

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్  వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ -ఐదవ భాగం

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్  వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ -ఆరవ భాగం

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్ వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ – ఏడవ భాగం

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్ వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ – ఎనిమిదవ భాగం

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్ వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ-9

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్ వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ-10

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్ వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ-11

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్ వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ-12

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్ వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ-13

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్ వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ-14

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్ వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ-15

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్ వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ-16

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్ వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ-17

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్ వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ-18

ఒక తెలుగు సాఫ్ట్ వేర్ ఇంజినీర్ కథ-19

ఇంకా ఉంది…

Why is it that I left him fifteen minutes ago

And I already can’t wait to see him again?

Why is it that his arm fits around my shoulder

Like a missing piece of the puzzle?

Why is it that his cheek resting on my forehead

Makes me want to sit on his lap forever?

And why is it that when I listen to his heart beating, my cheek resting on his chest

Mine skips a beat

Just to be in time with his?

alice.