The man.

He stood up, rage seething from his eyes. If looks could kill, there would've been a massacre to say the least. His shirt hung loosely and the tie had been lost somewhere, alongwith the gleaming white that the shirt had been, now stained with blood.

The loser was screaming insults but the man didn't need words to throw his punches - he did that with his bare hands. Punch. Punch. Kick. And off the loser ran.

There were people on both sides holding them back but this anger was not to be quenched without proper repercussions. The man hunted for the loser who'd gone under hiding on his friends' sensible yet delayed advice. I stood there, looking at this boy I know, transformed into a man and there was an awestruck admiration that slowly filled my heart. Sure I was scared for his safety but my insides rooted for him - and it was only with so much effort that I bit back the cheers going on in my head. For the nth time in my life I found myself wishing to be a boy just to have been able to have this man's back, just to ensure no harm came his way. Not a scratch, not a bruise.

But blood did spill over. And it was a physical ache to see it on him. The girl didn't hold him back and insisted that he finished it off the very same night. So we went on the scavenger's hunt to chew off the head of the boy who'd dared. They say you even find god, if you search enough then this was a mere two-bit fellow whose existence is anyway an imposition on the planet.

Face to face again, there was no stopping the man. The alcohol in their system only aggravated matters and a squabble which might have been resolved easily, ended in blows, torn shirts, nosebleeds and the ultimate fleeing of the self-proclaimed taekwando master who turned out to be nothing more than a fat, aimless kick hitting lump of lard. He should've known better than to mess with the man. He had it coming. He was dealing with The Man.

#Because I'm gonna buy this place and see it burn,
Did back the things it did to you in return.

Born and Raised - The Album Review, a feeble attempt.

Three years, and the boy who started off as an acoustic rock artist is finally making it as a blues musician; and what a treat that is to the ears. Given, there's still a lot more he could do with his voice but he has grown music wise. And now finally we get a glimpse of John Mayer the musician instead of John Mayer the tattooed celebrity who had girls drooling over his body rather than his music going all, OMG JOHNFREAKIN'MAYER! MARRY ME!!


He doesn't really experiment much with this album - it is classic Mayer but he lives up to it rather than shatter our hearts. (I do hope you're listening Martin for your album Mylo Xyloto after a long wait managed to do just that - get you all the commercial success in the world, but not a single track which would leave imprints on a loyal, music lover's mind.) Mayer on the other hand doesn't jump genres but traces roots back to folk rock of the 60s and early 70s and focuses a lot on California as an inspiration. It's a mix of folk-rock, country, blues and his personal favourite acoustic rock.


The backdrop of his lyrics is the personal struggle that he's faced, very publicly. But if there's one thing that makes for good music, it's certainly misery and pain. You can feel it in the title track when he goes "And all at once it gets hard to take, it gets hard to fake what I won't be.. Cause one of these days I'll be born and raised, and it's such a waste to grow up lonely."  However that's not all.. As mentioned before he draws from famous artists of an era long gone - Neil Young, Joni Mitchell and the likes. You can almost feel him jamming again with Clapton and King.

One of the first releases from this album, Shadow Days is a soulful track where he again puts beautifully into words and music as to how he isn't a bad boy, just misunderstood and been through a rough patch. (I’m a good man, with a good heart; had a tough time, got a rough start.. But I finally learned to let it go. Now I’m right here, and I’m right now; And I’m hoping, knowing somehow, That my shadow days are over, My shadow days are over now..) From being on the cover of The Rolling Stones in 2007 alongside Derek Trucks and John Frusciante as the guitar gods to be watched, to being ridiculed by the same magazine for his arrogance and condescending attitude - he has faced the bittersweet roller-coaster ride of fame (The track 'Speak of Me' hints at these incidents slightly when he sings, Now the cover of a Rolling Stone ain't the cover of a Rolling Stone; and the music on my radio ain't supposed to make me feel alone.. What a drag to know, I have to learn to let it go).  

From an acoustic guitar to a soothing resonant piano; from the tinge of a tambourine which somehow reminds one of Dylan's masterpieces to the pleasing harmonica - the album has an overall calming effect. A very John Mayer track that stood out to me was 'Love is a verb'. The lyrics to this one are heartfelt and this track will soon be taking up spots on playlists that were anxiously waiting for his voice. He daydreams of his youth when he was a nobody and asks himself, When you gonna wise up boy? He urges himself and the others to learn to live with loneliness and accept having to lead a life alone with a smile on your face as he croons, Build your heart an army to defend your innocence; while you do everything wrong.. Don't be scared to walk alone; Don't be scared to like it, in a tone of optimism that he does best (Remember 'Heart of Life' from his album Continuum?)

This album comes very close to my personal favourite by Mayer, Try! recorded live alongwith Palladino and Jordan, forming the famous and acclaimed John Mayer Trio. He has most certainly given this album his best shot and you see him mature not just as an artist but as an individual too, for his album speaks volumes of his inner conflicts and he goes about them like a storyteller more than a songwriter which is what wins my heart.


Overall, it's not really life changing music but a refreshing change from the likes of Bieber, Minaj and Gaga which string together rhyming words or repeat the same ones incessantly. My personal top three would be:
1. Shadow Days
2. Love is a verb
3. If I ever get around to living


Mayer fans, get yourself a copy of this album today and you will not regret it. And non-Mayer fans, this might just be what converts you. Welcome back John Clayton Mayer! You were so worth the wait.

And here's a picture for the hopeful and eager eyes.

I couldn't resist it; all the music aside, he is pretty fucking hot. 

*drools*

Yeah, you did.

"But it was not your fault but mine,
And it was your heart on the line.
I really fucked it up this time,
Didn't I my dear?"

The Soulmate, by default.

July 21st, 1992.

This is where it all actually began you know. They always say that someone somewhere is born because they're going to be important to you. And this date is proof that for once, they didn't lie. This is when the world ( or should I step back and thank mom? :P ) gave me you. My baby.

I don't know from where to begin because as always you've rendered me speechless ( you actually didn't have much to do with it, all I had to do was look at our picture for over a second and the effect was instantaneous ) and hunting for words. So I light myself a menthol ( the millionth similarity between us ) and try anyway for this date needs to be commemorated. It's about you.

You. Beautiful world isn't it?
I never realized quite how much until you happened. And how you happened I'll never fathom. From a drunken night among strangers to being your reflection, was it days or minutes or seconds in which we realized we were soulmates? In which you made me your baby and treated me like a princess gliding on molten air rather than the burning flames that my world was made of then; in which your arm around my waist didn't feel wrong and my feet on yours was your cue to make me your little girl for life. The only person I can take the 'little kid' from is you, the only person I run to is you and the only person whose stood by his promise to never let me see a world without him in it, is you. ( I just hope I'm not saying this too soon)

The ease and panache with which you unraveled me from my deeply entwined world and embedded into yours is remarkable really. I never had to pretend with you, you saw right through the moment you laid eyes on me. Your touch was never alien and there was a certain familiarity that came alongwith. The 'we-have-met-before' was a feeling I could just never shake. I guess in another universe, we had already spent a lifetime together so it was only natural that we kept up the tradition on this godforsaken planet as well.

You were never really a friend, or a rebound, or a boyfriend, or an ex - I still can't put a word to you actually. But you did that for me when you played me our first song - The Scientist. And that pretty much sums it up. You're that half of my existence that I ached for - the yes to all my nos and the wrong to all my rights. The love at first note ( Quote: You ). You've seen me at my erratic best and my emotional worst. You've stuck around despite the distance and scoffed at people when they said things about me which weren't true that you never even needed to ask for you just knew me, always. You've referred to me as 'our baby' to the one woman who matters most and kissed me on the forehead for her too. You've fought endless battles with the girl I'd kill for just to have exclusivity over our songs. And you've always believed in and accepted me, no questions asked, no eyebrows raised, no judgements passed.

So often I'm asked why you're still such an integral part of my life. I don't think the crowd gets it when I try and explain that I walked into your life by accident, but I stay in it on purpose. If that makes me a fool, glad to be so. Your fool. Because you've been the knight in shining armour for the damsel in distress both metaphorically and literally and I can never thank you enough. For what? For existing.

While leaving you once I'd said, 'I'm yours to bruise' and in all this time, I've never gone back on it - neither that nor anything else for words spoken to you were written not in ink but in blood and such words are never taken back. So for every bruise you give me, I smile.. for it's the mark of you on me and how can I even complain about that imprint? It's a reminder that you have a power over me like none other and I'm happy that you and you alone have it for you're the only one I'd trust with my soul, as tainted and twisted as it maybe. You're the only one with the power to protect it from this world, and to keep it safe and if that comes at the price of it being most vulnerable to you then that's a risk I'm willing to take. Never in my life did I feel as safe as I did in your arms or sleep half as well as I did while wrapped in you. I never had my heart beat in sync with someone else's and race just as fast or slow down completely. I never belonged.. Until you walked in and showed me exactly why my broken half had never fit with any other for it wasn't meant for mortals. This love, for no other. Now do you trust me when I say it ?

I can write endlessly and still not do you justice for I could never do us justice. I could try and tell you that I'll try my best to not let us lose each other in the sands of time. I'll try to prove to the world how very wrong they are about you and how I see you, and will always see the real you beneath all these layers. I'll even confess to always remaining Your Delilah, in heart and body and mind, despite and after everything. And I can promise you one thing for sure.. In a world gone silent, I'll be your sound..

I have always and will always fight the world for you, which sounds silly really since you don't even need me to - you're quite the bar-fighter yourself. Regardless of that, I'll never regret a moment that I stole from the world as long as I spent it with you; nor ties that I severed for this was meant to be. I don't mind having lost for I found you. It was destined you know.
Humein milna hi tha humdum, kisi raah bhi nikalte..

All the love in this universe falls short when it's paralleled with what I feel for you,
For I love you like I love the sea. And I'm okay with drowning.

Infinite kisses,
Your Soulmate.
For now and forever.

Ps: For you, a thousand times over.
Bareh tu, hazar dafa.

A cup of coffee.

I could make you green tea, then spike it with half a bottle of vodka so that you hate it even more when it washes down your throat.

I could paint you a picture of your mother cradling you as a kid, and then set fire to the loving arms and the affectionate eyes till there's nothing let of that memory but ruined embers.

I could buy you your favourite records and then smash them against the wooden floor and watch them shatter into a thousand broken and unmendable pieces that lie around cluttering your vision.

I could write you a brilliant story - one that binds you to it's pages and leaves you aching for more and then murder all the characters you've grown fond of just to watch you cry yourself to sleep asking why.

I could just kill you with an extra dose of morphine so easily accessible to me, but then what good would that be compared to the slow torture called life ?

Attachment.

Different people have different fixations. A kid, a sibling, a pet, a paperweight. Something that you always keep or something you adore to bits. A lucky pen maybe or a diary; your first love letter or the first pay cheque. A lover's wrist watch or a parent's photo. Maybe even just a coin from an unknown land which reminds you of a journey you once made or of the seas that you are yet to cross. We all have our hooks.

Mine was a once white and now mostly grey, bunny rabbit/bear called Snowy. His name was ironic since he was never as white as snow except for when I'd first laid eyes on him. Now let's get this straight - I'm a very antisocial element. Kids piss me off to no end with their whining and crying and demands and blabber and pets of any sort, yes even the beloved dogs are a waste of time in my eyes, not to mention loud and licky. How then I grew so attached to a soft toy, beats me. Maybe because I was ten when I first got it, or maybe because it was never, once out of my sight for over a decade; but somehow I shared a bond with that inanimate bunny like I do with no other.

In this world of people walking in and running out, of days when the world gets too much and nights when people don't have time for you - he was the one who was always there. After a severe scolding or a bad fight or an ugly break up, I'd hug him and I'd feel better. Sleep without him in my arms soon became impossible and when I had no choice but to give it a shot, I was always restless like separated from my little kid.

I guess it's safe to say, he is my baby. A boy once brought him to me after a troubled night of attempting to sleep and he told me how I'd smiled even in my sleepy state after looking at Snowy and then finally gone to bed at ease.

It pains me no end now when I look around and don't see that lopsided smile. When I try and replace him with pillows at night which never match up. When I want my confidante after an annoying day at college and he just isn't there. I must've cursed myself gazillion times for my folly and somehow even that's not enough. I want my baby! I miss him so bad that it hurts - it's a physical hurt that springs from constant lack of that one hug that was guaranteed to me every night, that void of the one patient ear which would always listen to my endless rants and the absence of something that was never just an inanimate toy for me but more, so much more.

Will someone please bring him back to me?
I'll owe you, for life.

Pathetically yours,
A tiny little girl trapped in the body of a mopey, hormonal adult.

I'm sorry.

It's not that I miss you.

But when the rain falls down, I recall the drives that we took together and as I shiver I think of the warmth that was you. When I'm walking sometimes, I look back for I feel like I just passed you for your aroma in my senses is still so fresh, that whiff of you still lingers. At times, most times, I imagine how certain songs that you're oblivious to would sound if sung in your imperfectly perfect voice. Rarely, I open my wardrobe and something that was once owned by you springs up and I just hold it in my arms, imagining it's not the feel of cloth, but your body against mine and even though it no longer has any remains of you on it, the fact that it once graced your skin is enough. Occasionally, I close my eyes and the dream that is you is so real that I hate myself for waking up and reprimand myself mentally, enough to acquire insomniac traits for a bit. Every fourteenth, at midnight, you're the first person to cross my mind, always. Once in a while, when I look at them I'm envious for nothing but the fact that life never gave us that shot, that chance - to be real, to be US.

I know this is insignificant. I know I'm not supposed to be writing this. I know you don't have the time for my incessant whining anymore. But what do I do when I miss your lips. The first to have ever kissed my forehead. Those eyes. That voice. I remember you in intricate detail, curse my impeccable memory but I do. I remember how your hugs felt, how my face inevitably lit up when I saw you or your digits after a sucky day and how your heart always skipped a beat and pounded that much faster in your chest when I was close. Shhh is what I said then, to your heart. Shhh is what I'm saying now, to mine.

It's not that I miss you. It's just that I miss you a fucking lot. 

Not all those who wander are lost.

It's been a while hasn't it? Since you took a walk to nowhere in the middle of the night? Since you walked out instead of run under the shades when it starts to drizzle? Since you got high on candy and a day of boardgames or cards?

Yeah it kind of has. It has been long since you read a mail, leave apart a letter, longer still since you bought an original record and even longer since you surprised someone just to see them smile, since you put someone else before yourself. Somewhere between all the forms of communication and making this world a smaller place, we actually made the distance grow more.. We've grown distant.

I look at your facebook profile now to know what you're upto, who you hang with and what is the latest band you listened to. I enlarge your BBM picture and stare at it when I need to see your face and try and interpret your status in not one way but a million till I find one that I feel comes closest to my interpretation of you. I write you mails and then save them in my drafts for let's face it, who has the time to read long sappy emails these days, lesser still to reply to them and pathetic as this sounds, I like my mails being replied to.

We've come so far and yet I feel not much has been achieved. There's so much more to be done but there's something that still stops me, holds me back. If moving forward means not needing your people anymore, I disagree. If being strong implies you have to suffocate and drown out what you feel deep down, I beg to differ. If living on the principle of pragmatism means killing the kid inside you then I'm sorry I'm not prepared for this murder, just yet.

Maybe in another lifetime I can be like one of you - a machine - but for this one, I'm only human. Not by default, by choice.

Bad eyes.

I guess my vision is faulty. I didn't see the real you. And perhaps, these eyes never will. For they lit up when your gaze burnt them. They felt recognised after an era of unacknowledged existence. But I guess it's time the light went out. For it's better to not see things at all rather than watch them through that tint of nonchalant arrogance which envelops your world.

Should've turned around and left before the sun came up again.

Let's find the coordinates to the tiny dot that's you and the tinier dot that's me. Let's try and place them in the same plane of motion. Let's then remove all variables and watch what happens. Find out what our trajectory looks like without life and other mundane things getting in it's way. Without my heart and brain in the picture, constantly at war. Without alcohol, the permanent aphrodisiac. Without distance, this whore of an entity. Without everything and anything, just two tiny dots of this universe, finally put together. Would we finally form that straight line to infinity? Could we?

Old friends, old trends.

To the boy I lost,

I kept my promise didn't I? Ah well, I tried. It was a task to not call you as soon as the clock struck twelve, so I made sure I was fast asleep. It was yet another to not pre-order a cake or flowers. But well, such is life. We bind ourselves to our words and then forever are held by them. And I gave you my word this precise day last year and I guess it's imperative I keep it.

I will however take a walk down memory lane, hand in hand with the boy who I thought danced like a dream. The one with whom I unknowingly spent my summers and the one whose birthday I never missed. The one who tracked me down as we grew up and lost touch and then ensured that the latter never happened. The one who would drag me out when I didn't want to go and then take me to places that I was unaware of in my own city. The one who always made me pick and decide, the one who always called me back after I left a missed call and the one who sang with me, and encouraged that I go on.

Somewhere between the late night calls and very long drives, I lost you. To possessiveness (MY boy), insecurity, and my pathological need to flirt. When I thought we were growing closer, I was actually tearing us apart - the two perfect friends whom I used to quote to the world became the dust, covering history books seldom opened.

But well atleast the time we spent together was memorable enough to leave it's mark and important enough for me to miss it whenever it crosses my mind. I remember Polynation, and Cafe Coffee Day, and Wake Up Sid, and Pizza Hut, and Ajmer Highway, and.. Okay I remember a lot. From the white santro to the pitch dark terrace, and everything in between. It's a shock that our friendship's so platonic now for I recall it being anything but that, it was so natural. I guess all good things do come to an end. By that logic we must've been fucking brilliant for we ended at a lightning fast speed.

Eitherway, today's not about lamenting or remorse. It's to state my yearly affection and wish you the very best in every endeavor that you decide to take on. Despite anything and everything, you'll always have a friend in me because well, I kind of owe you for the absolute sweetheart you have been to me. Someone, somewhere will always care about you, a great deal more than you'll ever care to acknowledge, appreciate or accept. But then again, such is the paradox called life.

Love and hugs,
The round pink faced girl.

PS: Happy Birthday. It's a pleasure to have known you, the real you before it got scarred by the world aka me.