When The Time On My Mobile Phone Wouldn’t Change

Last night I had a horrid dream. Bone shaking me to my core, I have never had such a sweaty nightmare ever before. I dream very less (if I do, I don’t remember most of them). Last night’s -mare ingrained in my memory very starkly. Details need too much background information about my family members. […]

I Hit My Car While Reversing

A month or so ago, I wrote about a funny thing that happened on a traffic light: How a guy shoved his car into my car’s rear on a RED LIGHT. Today was special, because today I bumped my car into a wall of Garage while reversing it. Funny thing? I’d just washed it, and was putting it back in. It felt like that moment, when you’ve just done laundry, clothes are a little wet, but the wind decides against you and put ’em on the ground WHILE you are trying to put them over the rope.

I went to the showroom immediately, filled all the paper work for repair, got back home. My father is really cool in this matter. It’s his car I knocked off. I called him and he just said:

Just a word of advice for future, son, when you are not sure of the spaces around while reversing a car, just get down and take a look around.

Thanks Dad! For being so cool.

I’ll obviously pay the expenses on my own even though he’d suggest otherwise.

That’s it for now!

Medium.com is Home For Now

I’d started writing on this blog to engage with the WordPress community. 27% of the seeable (searchable) web is powered by WordPress. There are so many of us! But I haven’t been able to make conversations. Not even a single comment came through. I don’t know if it is the things that I write about are unrelatable to people, or what.

For now, I’ve started writing on Medium.com more. I’m also writing to properly send pieces to literary mags.

Here are some of the pieces that I recently wrote on medium

  1. Things I Wouldn’t Say Otherwise: This was the first slam poem that I formed at a local open mic. I wrote this the night before the open mic. For the lack of any better content, I thought to myself
    What could be a better subject matter than to think about what things I could tell a bevy of trustworthy strangers. Hence I wrote this poem. All the events in the poem are real. 
    The poem is currently a draft, Medium let’s one share one’s unpublished work as well, just that people won’t be able to comment on it or recommend it
  2. Paper 3 Newspaper Clippings: This is a slam poem/free verse about a bias I was a victim of. Since I was in first grade, fashion and film industry in my country and all around the world played with my mind. Most Indian families do not talk freely about many subject matters. Most of the parents think that studies are the go all be all goal of their children that they should achieve. Most of the times, they do not literally talk about anything else. I haven’t talked to anything with my father for years other than his asking me if I need more money, and my asking him if he’s okay. It’s very obvious to say after this information that I didn’t talk about girls or sex or how is it like to be in the real world, and what are their problems and so so many other things.Due to this bias, slowly and steadily my neurons started getting hardwired. I could only find skinny models, busty breasted models attractive, I’d drool over them, masturbate on “Hardcore Porn“, until two things happened
    1. I couldn’t get an erection with any girl I’d be with
    2. I realized myself out of this fact, spent nights (literally) thinking about it. About why didn’t I get attracted towards other girls. The longer I kept thinking about it, the faster I kept getting out of this fucking bias.
  3. Lost in Words: Why Listicles and Catchy Headings are Ruining Reading Habits: Self-explanatory, I guess.
  4. Once, I: After a poem by the same name, which was featured in Poetry Magazine in 2013.

Also, I curate a weekly literary/arty newsletter. I call it LOL (List of Lit). You can read more about it here. Please Please see the previous issues to known what it is all about. If it’s for you please subscribe?

Until next time WordPress, adios!

The Story of How I Chose My WordPress Username

In the continuous and varied attempts to feel close to my deceased grandfather, I’d come to know that he was a very devoted follower of Swami Vivekanand. This was 7th grade, and we (my brother, nani (maternal grandmother) and I) were all packed up to spend our summer vacations at my Massi’s (My mother’s first sister) in Nagpur.
Like a little kid wanting attention, I was unintentionally pretentious. I packed the first book I found of him from my father’s collection to read over the 2 day train journey. Our berth neighbours were an old couple and a mysterious man who was silent for most of the trip.

I had two books actually. A short version of Shakespeare’s As You Like It, and Swami Vivekanand’s book, I don’t remember the name of.

Because As You Like It was shorter, I finished it on the first day. When I started the second, on the second day, I was interrupted by that mysterious man when I was on a page in the 20s. He said rather indifferently

 

“Go to page 84, find a piece of paragraph which has the word dispassion in it, read it a number of times, until you are able to explain what it means”.

 

I assented tacitly.

 

After reading that paragraph over and over again, I could only come up with an obvious definition. I replied with it, feeling like the weak defense team in an NBA match.

 

“Dispassion means lack of passio(n)”, I said.

 

I’d not even completed the ‘n’ in passion when he interrupted again.

 

“No, it doesn’t mean that here. Why don’t you keep that book down, and read it some years later from now”.

 

I was taken aback. The other berth mates, not knowing what he was implying the meaning to be too, kept silent. They just looked at me blankly, so did I.

 

I was embarrassed and dejected at my lack of knowledge. I did what he told. His voice was so audacious that it was hard to go against it. As a child who’d often do the things denied to him, though I closed the book down, I kept asking myself what it meant in that paragraph.

 

Ultimately, I gave up and ate then slept. Until my sophomore year, when I woke up, meditated and opened a chapter of Celebrating Silence where I found my answer.

 

Hence theguyonethetrain.