This & That

Cofusion still looms large.

Exams are around the corner.

Need to intern somewhere in the break that follows the exams.

Wondering where to go to.

Wondering whom to contact.

Bumped into PV, a senior at school.

She's into Media Studies as well.

And is interning at The Times of India.



An excerpt:



PV: Love the job at Times

PV: Reporting is cool

PV: You are treated like a queen when you say "Times"



Me: oh... ok

Me: another good reason to stay away from Times



PV: ??



Me: Err... ok... never mind!

My Yahoo Avtaar

Reality shall impose no constraints on his being. He is blissfully unaware of his standing. He continues to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Doing the wrong thing, of course.



His sense of reality is badly distorted. The look on the face smacks of absolute insincerity and complacency.



But the truth shall dawn on him. And he will be left cold from the inside. And he will wonder why.



I give to you...



*DRUMROLL*



My Yahoo Avtaar!





A piece of art, innit? ;-)



*ducks the rotten tomatoes and eggs*



November 16 marked the birth of this blog. Heypee Budday, dear Neurotica. It's been one interesting journey. Here's to several more years of togetherness in the Blogosphere. And here's to all the people I met on this trip!

Aren't You An Artist?

This poem was written by a classmate who likes to call himself, 'The Subverter'. It kinda grew on me. I decided to share it with you. I am still in awe of it. I think it is a beautiful poem.



Aren't You An Artist?



'You are an artist', they declare.

And you are offended at once,

And also amused,

And the thin line between them remains fractured.



You are an artist because your body

Is not worth making love to,

Your soul is, absurdly.

Because what you call profundity

Is absurdity for others.

Because your ideas are inverted,

Not likely to be taken seriously.



You are an artist because you stink heavy

Of intimidating ideas.

Because the contours of your art

Is the outskirt of rotten radicalism.



You are an artist because you have learned

To wallow in the luxury of your failure.

Because you leap out of the common norms

And create your own confusion

And reside proudly in that.



You qualify as an artist when your beloved,

Your ideas, everything you loved and held,

Betray at the critical point of your life,

Leaving you laughing at your own fate.



So is being an artist an achievement,

Or an entrapment?

Tanha dil

Tanha Safar

Dhoonde tujhe

Fir kyu nazar...?