A Sadist's Rhyme
I've never felt so lonely before ,
Thingy : Something unspecified whose name is either forgotten or not known
I've never felt so lonely before ,
by ATAullah | 1 Comments
“Farts are of two types. One, which makes noise and doesn’t smell. And another one which does not make any noise and smells” .Yes, we polluted a lot of air.
Europe is far more beautiful than what they show in the movies. It’s a different tale to tell when you see it upfront. It’s like seeing a beauty and touching a beauty. You know the distinction now, don’t You? Airport and Flights never seemed to end. Mumbai, Turkey,Brussels and London just didn’t seem to end. Almost thought the entire trip would involve sleeping in big and long airports.
Sleep was of prime importance to me when I left from here to there. Only sleep could make my mouth open, involuntarily, at any given chance. What could I do? I had to sleep . I had no other option but to let it remain open. The worst part is that whenever I slept friends around would just pick something up and put that something in my mouth. Trust me, it came in weird shapes and sizes.
They say too much of something is either too bad or just too good. We’ve had too much of both the good and the bad. And sometimes it turned ugly. But, things just got better as the days flew by. And so did the memories.
Somewhere in Belgium there is this city called Antwerp, the name we hadn’t ever heard. And with all the geography that You possess, I am sure even You couldn’t figure out where this place is. Once we figured out the place, we couldn’t figure out the make of the man who was supervising us. They called him Sankat. It goes with his name. At the end of it all that guy was termed as the smartest guy in the whole of Antwerp and Cambridge. God save all of them.
We thought being Indian was the best thing to do when you go to a Non-Indian place. We would shout on the streets, peep into their houses through very huge transparent windows. We would sneak the Cola products into our bags even when they were for free. Peeing on the streets of London was a thing to do. And even red telephone boxes were not spared. If that was not enough, we would continue staring at those kissing in the park until they were uncomfortable even holding hands.
We sometimes acted like them too. Did things which cannot be mentioned here, did things which cannot even be mentioned. Sat silently in lectures and slept a lot of times. Impressed them with a lot of stuff too, clapped proudly when India was mentioned and bunked classes for people we cared the most. We are like this and I am proud to be like this.
We’ve had friends who had got the whole of India along with them when it came to food. We set up food joints in rooms. The most popular being the A1 dhaba. Love those guys for what they had brought. Although, food wasn’t much of a concern , because all we had to do was find a Pizza Hut and order a large margarita and we were done for the day .And we could survive on it totally. Oh! And we surely had to have a coke in our hand. Water was expensive.
I have made really good friends, have tainted some and got some back. I am sure they had as much fun I had, If not more. Thank You all. Keep peeing on the roads. Not You.
Posted in IIPM, vacation by ATAullah | 0 Comments
The title of this post has a very weird story .This does not mean that I don’t like the title .And its also a little weird that I like weird stuff . The story is very weird and I don’t think You like it weird . Lets spare that and move on .That’s what we do at IIPM . We move on .
The very thought of joiing IIPM led to a lot of stuff .Asad , a very close friend , once said, “ There are two kinds of people who join IIPM . they can either be fools or even bigger fools . the fools join IIPM because they do not get into any other college and the bigger fools are the ones who get good scores worth taking them into greater colleges but they join IIPM . why ? because they are even bigger fools.” I don’t know if I can be proud of that at this juncture but I belong to the second category .
No , don’t be mistaken . I love what IIPM led me to .Its like rejuvenation . I had missed my days at previous college and missed the friends I had made over there . IIPM allowed me to mellow that feeling. After college I experimented with my life by not doing anything . For the record , I was helping my mom in the business for about a year . And for that year I studied for CAT and learnt the art of screwing it up royally .Okay , You don’t have to know how much I got in that .
To be very candid , I have had this problem of expressing my feelings and I still have this problem . Even though I have decided on what to write, I still have this problem of letting You know exactly what IIPM led me to . I know You second me on that one . But , lets me try to express .
My days at IIPM were and are very hectic and I get so much pleasure in making it sound like it . First two weeks were gradual . It was more like a building phase . Friends I have made are genuine to the core and the best of the lot . Presentations and assignments scare the shit out of me and I love it . Edit the shit part if You don’t like it . There is always something or someone here to keep me busy . Although the campus at hyderabad isn’t that great , but the canteen here steals the show . all of my time is spent at the canteen . And a Table Tennis table in the canteen makes my business worth it over there . I have learnt new tricks of the trade and new tricks of impressing people . These days might just well be one of the best days of my life .Courtesy IIPM.
I have never found group discussion fun .But , its different this time .My exams are in progress right now . And everybody seems to know just a little bit to teach everybody . reminds me of the time Junaid , Hussain and I used to sit all through the night and study nothing for our graduation exams . Oh shit ! I am yet to collect my graduation certificate .
One more thing that IIPM leads to is procrastination . May be it's just me .
Posted in college, IIPM by ATAullah | 2 Comments
I know myself not anymore ,
I thought I always did , all the more.
I always loved the cold,
But I thought I was being bold .
Lady , I don’t love the cold anymore ,
I have grown old , mature and more .
You have despised my attitude towards You ,
I regret and say sorry before any hullabaloo.
Also , Needless to say ,
I have despised my attitude towards You .
You always knew where the fault was ,
So have I , also known the cause .
But , we chose to be mum .
Since then , I believe , everything is numb .
Selfishness was not my trait .
It got governed by my fate .
Selflessness is also my trait ,
Though I never put it on the plate .
I once loved to be the glue ,
But once again , we are through .
I thank You for letting me know ;
For , the others never let me know .
I know I am candid for my own good ,
But calm too has done me no good .
Yes, I was weak and meek,
But change does not take place in a week .
No word is as good as Sorry ,
please don’t worry ,
for,satisfaction does not bring misery .
by ATAullah | 2 Comments
19 years passed
Posted in memoir, poem by ATAullah | 12 Comments
Ata,
The piece is excellent .
the flow of thoughts are flawless.
you have surged in your urge,
dont purge your urge.
But ,
to urge is to desire and when you desire you act;
which is a responsible act .
so the "deserve" you acheive by urging is responsibility .
A virgin is parent who desires and deserves a child or a result .
so be a parent in your thoughts and not a virgin .
A virgin is one who is on a verge but not in .
so be in and not on the verge .
I know there are people who will take the meaning of virgin on its street value ,
but nonetheless one who knows the naunces of the language do not ponder but splurge on its sweet meanings .
you surge ahead of the word to its real meaning .
Good,
keep urging and make your father your best friend ,
for he keeps you as his best friend ,
as he was to his father , as son , as the best of friends.
keep blogging responsibily ,
Saadullah ,
Your father .
Posted in Abbu, memoir, poem by ATAullah | 6 Comments
When You go past an ice-cream stall and desire an ice-cream, that’s called Urge .
When You pay no heed to that Urge and continue to follow Your path because of sheer laziness, that’s called stupidity.I have another name for it too however I wish to preserve my respect .
There are so many times when You wish that the unimaginable intensity of the Urge could be controlled and most of the time the wish is denied and You end up ignoring it . An Urge, very instinctive , generates a strong restless desire which crosses the limits and the boundaries of passion itself . The Urge I am talking about is momentary but then the events which follow it freeze to be the moments of Your life . Urge is instinctive . It is not planned . It can never be planned .
You are here reading and I am here writing because of our Urge . You and I are a result of this urge . I am not here to write definitions of Urge but the only reason I am writing this is because of the Urge,the desire, to write .
I Urge to do something and then ditch the whole set up by backing out .I Urge to do something and then suffer from what they call laziness .In fact laziness might not be the word. Procrastination suits perfectly .There is a very thin line between laziness and procrastination.The former and the latter know exactly where they stand .
You Urge to get flowers for Your someone .But drop it because You might seem over romantic .
You Urge to make sure that Your someone reaches college or office or home safely .But You back out stating to yourself that “give that person some space”.You Urge to talk to Your dad .
But You would rather talk to a friend .You still Urge to get Yourself back on track , Urge to become more responsible .But yet You feel You have Your whole life to desire , to Urge .
Numerous days , numerous hours , numerous seconds , yet the Urge continues . Urge is dangerous . Dangerous because of the fact that when You Urge , You procrastinate or at least I . My Urge goes beyond the level of my imagination . I desire unknowingly and also in fact knowing
that it will not fulfill and knowing well enough that my Urge will only be a desire . It will remain a desire .
But yet I desire , I urge .In a hope that someday my desires would be complete .In a hope that my instincts are not demotivated by the events that follow the Urge .I have always urged and have always felt the need to crush the desire .I hope this post of mine helps me twain my Urge and the events that follow .In hope ,I can only Urge .Still in hope,I wish to Urge , even more.
Posted in memoir by ATAullah | 8 Comments
The scene is dull with Mozart playing their way in the background. Twin tubes fixed at just enough elevation to be able to read, flickers. The writer ponders and ponders over and over at every flicker as to who is the manufacturer of the tube.Just then an inside voice shouting at the top of its minimum maximum voice telling me to, “hey look up !” .
The scene is set to write.
To write whatever comes to my mind.
This mind of mine is very unpredictable.
Unpredictable is also the climate.
The climate makes me feel like an African.
An African has no option but to bear the brunt of the heat which is bestowed on him by the lord or let’s just put it in the atheist version, the nature.
The nature that I am made of is very unpredictable.
Being unpredictable always means that I end up thinking or doing just the thing that I wanted to do but in a way I do not understand why I am doing it.
I know you understand none of it.
But at least try pretending to.
I think and end up getting to the same point where I start.
So I start from where I started.
The scene has been set up for writing and
Now I am in the mood of it.
Sorry for the trouble.
I recall scenes when some very dear friends of mine ask me to write more so that they can read more.
I recall thoughts where I find myself thinking, do they really want me to write or are they just going around praising the posts I write.
I recall my passion to get satisfaction form the compliments I receive.
I end up doing nothing but just recall the scene that I started with.
The inner voice still tries hard to tell that the compliments are for real and ever genuine and thus started its domination.
My life is damn circle. Life is viscous circle they say. I never did believe it. I am left with no choice but to believe.
The writer wishes that those friends of mine understand what he writes down or at least try pretending to do so.
The writer still wishes he would get his share of compliment and comments.
The writer wishes he could go back to the scene he loved to live.
The writer still wishes to wish .
The writer stills his thoughts and wishes to still his life .
and thus wishing so,
and knowing that some wishes just follow the path of impossibility, do not come true .
So, the writer wishes to end, not knowing if this is the right place.
but always wishing that the end is always right .
Posted in memoir by ATAullah | 3 Comments
Relationships I have been in seem to have 'almost' glued on it. where ever I go , whoever I be with , whatever I do , the 'almost' never goes away . It never wears off. How I wish I would be ‘complete’. How I wish I would be associated with completeness. How I wish things would just be complete.
Friends I have taken an oath to die along, have been mocking this infamous ability of mine to leave things on an almost note, always , and I cannot help but grin and crib on the inside. It hurts when I am not completing stuff. It hurts even more when the almost relationship gets pulled and lost into completeness with some other complete person.
There have been instances when I am in a relationship and come out of it, get into it once again, come out of it again. The sequence continuing and dwelling itself into an almost state, state which only tends to instigate fear and hostility. Such an almost state has always been despised and yet has been stuck to me like a spell.I would lose this jinx only when I am constantly getting the complete in place of an almost.
There have also been instances when I get into a relationship with a almost printed on it since the very beginning and I keep looking at it and wait for it to spell complete .In such a relationship is that you never can figure out what is happening . You are always under uncertainties of truth and uncertain is how u move and uncertain is how you love.
I have long started to feel suicidal because everything I want does not come to me, everything I want does not want me. The feeling grows larger when everything I tried to work for ended up not being mine and things I do not work for become mine and stick to me forever. Sometimes I wonder how things are left at almost with me, analyzing does not help a bit and neither killing my thoughts .
All my life, I have lived for the other.
All my life, I have lived for me.
All my life, I keep being upset about the almost.
All my life, this will go on and on.
And,
All my life, will I be writing posts after posts about my fates here?
All my life, will I be telling you my miseries?
All my life, would I be writing uninteresting long tales about myself?
No,
All my life, I will be pondering on my mistakes and healing them.
All my life, I will be healing the almost and
All my life, I will be writing in this very place.
All my life, I will be me.
All my life, I will be with you.
All my life, I will feel you .
All my life , I will be mine .
All my life, I will be in thought.
And then,
My life will be all.
Posted in memoir by ATAullah | 15 Comments