Me.

I think the world’s out to get me.
That includes him, her and you.
I fear the things that I do,
Things that may be taboo.

I’m a coward, a liar,
A weakling, a two-faced bitch.
I care more about myself,
I’ll let go off you in a stitch.

A lying tongue, a heart
That devises wicked plots,
I bitch, I gossip,
About you and what not.

Sometimes I think
I’m not cool
Sometime I think
This world’s mine to rule.

I feel yellow, green, blue
Even red, but I never feel white
But why don’t I still care,
Even if I know it’s not right?

I lust for power and wealth,
And have the greed for more.
Look down upon other people,
Feel like a cheap whore.

I’m afraid of the dark,
Of the unsettling melancholy,
Of cockroaches, death and failure,
And bad things that might happen to me.


I don’t think I’ll change,
Cause suddenly I see,
This is what I’ll always to be.
We’ll all be the same after all,
Him, her, you and me.

The way I were

A conversation with a friend on the phone about world domination and politics randomly steered to my childhood and before I knew it, there I was standing in my grey and white uniform, with a blue belt around my waist and shiny black shoes that would make any shoe cream company proud, in a very JD-esque daydream (Scrubs does affect me a lot. trust me, it does.)
I haven’t always been the messy hair-sporting, kurta-clad snob that I am now. I am talking about those days when social networking sites didn’t exist (Seems like a long time ago, doesn’t it?), back when Star Plus was an english entertainment channel (It really was, for all those who think I have gone loony and need a good mental check-up. and no, I am not an escapee from an asylum if incase you been thinking about it.). For you to get a clearer picture, I am talking bout the time when I was two feet shorter and a hell lot cheesier (which is saying something if you know me).
I remember being the cheeky little kid who asked his parents why he wasn’t invited to their marriage. Someone who thought that he started blinking at the age of six (A lot of my stories do involve me being at the age of six). Someone who his nose pinched by a cousin with a clothespin and begged others to remove it, in a Himesh-ish voice, forgetting his own two hands. Who fell inside a manhole and still got a scolding for it. Who thought that the world was black and white earlier, like they showed in old movies.
Someone, who thought that there were only three stars in the sky.
I was the boy with the He-man castle, the robot dog, the classic toy cars and the hundred G.I Joes. And someone who was still greedy for more. Who wanted to be a cook, a writer and a national geographic correspondent just because it was a long word and sounded cool. Who thought essay was spelled SA and dressed up as a Chinese woman for a fancy dress competition just because he had stitches near his eyes. ( I still don’t remember why I didn’t become, ahem, a Chinese man.)
I was the boy whose greatest worry in life was whether school would be open on Monday or not (It still is!)
And then I realized that there’s actually being no change in me at all. I still am here, happily sipping my tropical iceberg, being completely at peace with life, the universe and everything.