Sweet Dreams.

Come with me, oh, dear! Let me take you there,
This world isn’t good for you, it’s greedy and unfair,
Come with me to the place, where sun rises up high,
Enlightening the buried hopes in hearts of you and I,
Where greed has no place,
Where anger has no face,
Where clouds shower happiness, high up from the sky..

Come with me oh dear, where nights are not dark,
Where moons shines up so bright that even dawn blush to embark,

Come with me to the place where there will be no more pain,
Just close your eyes and dream and don’t wake up again.

A little

A little

When there’s nothing you can do but beg a little,
not for money, not for fame, not for love, and for pain,
but for the unbinding confusion that rests in your mind,
And you try to clear it out but there’s nothing you can find.

When there’s nothing you can do but weep a little,
exposing the tears that come right from the heart.
spending the dark nights with swollen wet eyes,
possessing an obsidian smile covered with fake sweet lies.

When there’s nothing you can do but laugh a little,
covering the deep core wounds, that rest in your heart,
when the whole world rush and you stand alone
expecting some peace, some of your answers, but still those remain completely unknown.

When there’s nothing you can do but share a little.
with whom you wonder and how you think
and your heart continues to bleed, you know you can’t hold
you turn to yourself,you pour them out,just to yourself, just to your soul.

When there’s nothing you can do but pray a little
every time, everywhere, when you ask how to smile,
in the darkest corner of nights, when your state is fragile,
in the complete endless blankness when your mind has no word,
and when the faint voice of your conscience echoes unheard,
when you stand alone on the road, fighting in the night,
when you make futile efforts, that deepen your plight,
sit for a while, rest in quiet.
What can you do when you don’t know what’s right?

 

 

 

The art of procrastination

There are many things that exist in my priority lists almost every day. Completing assignments, reading ‘word power made easy’, going through the notes of power system analysis and reading the chapter from the textbook ( Pointers! Pointers! You need to improve those petty little single digit horrible things!) Et cetera, et cetera. And somewhere down my lists, not even mentioned in words, there exists a very insignificant task. And I end up doing exactly that throughout the day. Why?

Why do I do this every single time?

Well, here’s why: I procrastinate. I prefer sharpening pencils rather than making notes with them. I prefer going out to buy mechanical pencils if sharpening the pencils are my top priority tasks. I would type an essay on why 0.5mm pencil lead sucks if writing with mechanical pencil is the most important task I need to do. And I will read a novel if I am asked to write an essay. And I will watch a movie if I am asked to read a novel. I will sleep if I am asked to watch a movie. But I would never ever do what needs to be done. If your life is going along the same track, then hi-five! Bud! We have got something in common. We are “procrastinanians”. We worship the goddess of procrastination.

But being the way we are is not easy. Remember those depression and self detesting attacks?

Why did I ever ever change my religion to procrastinism. This sucks! My life sucks! OMG! Get me cyanide, will you? Or wait, which is the tallest building in the city? God, I hate my life! I hate myself!

Sometimes these attacks are so severe that I really begin to wonder if I need some serious strong anti-depressant medicines. But the fact is – this depression is unnecessary. Yes, if I were a non-procrastinator perhaps my life would have been better. But twenty years of my life have made me realize that non-procrastinators are especially designed in a separate lab of heaven where most brilliant and geeky of gods and goddesses design the brain of human together. Not everybody gets to be product of that lab. It is reserved for special ones. And I am not the special one. I was genetically engineered to be a procrastinator in a much bigger and less exclusive lab.

But here’s another fact for all the depressed ones out there, this situation is not as incorrigible as you think. Procrastination is not that unproductive as you believe it to be. I am writing this article during my Power electronics lecture. And I don’t think I am doing something for which I should jump off a building. If I had not been a procrastinator I would have never done this. And this article would never have come into existence. Did I do something unproductive? No. I did something that was not important according to me. But I had to get this article done. And I am getting it done. God bless procrastination. I write for my blogs during my labs. I have completed many novels a day before exam. This is not un-productivity. This is running away (which is,well, not something to be proud of. But I don’t loathe myself for doing that). I do not mean to say it’s good. My point is- it’s not that bad. It would not fetch you pointers. It would not get you placed in Microsoft. I agree. But many times it makes you do things that you would have never done. In some cases it even makes you creative, or increase your general knowledge (I have spent infinite hours stumbling upon websites during exams). I do not think that it deserves to be the reason one should scold oneself to death. Procrastination doesn’t really mean sitting idle (being a “vegetable” is the appropriate term for that), it means doing less important things rather than the high priority tasks. That’s not good. But that’s not bad.

So, do try not to procrastinate much. It’s an old saying, and there is some sense and good advice in that. And if you have any success in doing that please let me know how you did it. (I beg you. I do need some help). But meanwhile, in case, you fail, do remember; life is still good. It’s cool. Light hai.

Here, always…

Like the music that echoes, among the songs unheard,
The face that smiles, among the pictures unseen,

The words that appear, in letters unwritten,
And the rainbows emerging in the sky unobserved,
I know for people I do not exist,
But there’s bugging confession that I cannot resist…
“Who said I am not there around anymore?
Every time when you call, every time when you do, I am there always, standing at your door.”

Like the flowers blooming in the plants, ungrown,
The images flashing in the dreams unseen,
Colors glowing in canvas left blank,
And the rooms resting in the houses unbuilt,
It’s true I am gone, and I won’t be seen,
I have left some mess, that can’t be cleaned,
And that’s precisely, why I am not worth your tears,
Neither do I deserve your dreams or souvenirs,
And it’s a well known fact that I do not exist,
But there’s bugging confession that I cannot resist…
“Who said I am not there around anymore?
Everytime you when call, everytime when you do, I am there always, standing at your door.”

Burn me to ashes that’s what you need to do,
And I know, precisely, that you don’t have a clue.
Why should you cry and pray for me to come back?
Your life is complete, there’s nothing that you lack,
But still I am here, yes, I am right here.
I am here always, I will never disappear,
But I won’t be seen, and I won’t be heard,
You have had enough, I won’t say a word,
But in the chirps of the birds, you will find my voice,
In the light of the sun, I will help you make a choice,
In the darkness of the night, I will be the moon,
And in the sadness of melodramas, I will be your cartoon,
In the greatest of your times, I will be your smile,
And I will be in your hope, when life is fragile,
In the beats of your heart, in the memories of our past,
In every second of your present, I was never outcast,
So wipe your tears, I am not gone,
The night is over, and there’s a new dawn,
“So, the who the hell said I am not there anymore!
Every time when you call, every time when you do, I am there always standing at your door.”

Why turquoise ink?

Well, I wish I could have provided a good back story for this but I just have one weird tale to tell;

So, my sister and I have this crazy obsession over fountain pens (okay, maybe not so crazy, but some of it counts). So, one fine day she and I were talking about ink pens. From ink pens, we got to ink. And then she asked me,“Do you know what is the difference between ink and quink?”

“What is Quink?” I asked back.

If you are among the ones who don’t still know then here it goes;

Quink is a “different” kind of ink manufactured by Parker. It is claimed to be so smooth and so quick in drying that the company couldn’t help but put quick and ink together and form a new word altogether.

She and I got pretty curious about how different this ink could be. So we googled it. We came across the different shades of quinks. We found out that not only it is sold in royal blue but also in black, pink, red and teal.

Did someone just say TEAL?

A little backstory here;

I love teal.

I love everything about that color.

It is so perfect that it makes me cry.

Just like Brad Pitt.

Man. I love teal.

Parker had named this teal colored “quink” as the turquoise ink. At that time I didn’t know what turquoise was. (If you belong to the same category then- It is a semi-precious stone which is teal in color.)

But then I found out (thanks again to google) and named my blog theturquoiseink years later.

Frankly, speaking I owe my blog’s name to Quink which by the way, is not so quick and smooth as Parker thought it would be.

But if we dig a little deeper, then I can also conclude that I owe this name to my obsession with fountain pens. I just love them. I love them even when they leave all my fingers smeared in ink. I love them even when they refuse to write despite being filled with ink till the brim. I love them even when they leave tiny droplets of their blood on the floor of my room. And there is a reason why I love them even when I am dying to fall in extreme contempt with them; When I write with them, everything is perfect. My handwriting, the color, the texture, the chemistry with the paper. Suddenly, I am not in the era of internet and emails but some two hundred years back. And I love history. I love to know what things used to be. Though ink pens are not something that are very ancient but ink is.

Fun exercise#1 -Imagine my reaction if somebody gifts me a quill. Oh.Dear.God. (To whom so ever it may concern, I just gave an idea for ahem!)

I plan on building a huge fountain pen collection from the most expensive ones to cheapest ones. I have the cheapest ones. Expensive ones have to wait.

Anyways, Cheers to the ink pens.

Cheers to ink.

And cheers to turquoise. You are one beautiful stone.

And cheers to teal. You are one beautiful color.

And cheers to Brad Pitt. You are one beautiful actor.