This Cannot Go On

*snigger*

The last I wrote about something I thought of as part of my life's happenings; November the 24th. Funny, how much a couple of weeks can do to a person. This goes to say that I have indeed come to realise something. If ever and whenever one stops pondering on the needless, needless to say it stops pounding him/her. Much like mere fidgeting of the nails and untangling of the knots in the hair when there is much to look upon, mull over and straighten out.

Lamenting over ghastly tales of mishaps and drowning over sweet serenading notes of a swirling cup of hot chocolate may seem all nasty for the former and all enchanting for the latter. True, the simplest of things like bittersweet memories and the simplicity of a beverage brewed with love is more bewitching than a pile of documents to tend to. Ever wondered what may have got the famous and the powerful through and thorough with benediction of their success??? Was it the doing of acquiring blessings or the act of making the obvious manifest??? Or does the both work hand-in-hand???

What is it; the reason behind such an excruciating semblance??? A weak will? A comfortable disposition in bemoaning? A willing soul to carry out a bidding? A cornered, wishful thinking that it may all see the end of the road? A show to exert one's tenacity? What is this all about???

What is our purpose on Earth???

Belittling anything less? Beholding the marvel of those anymore than thyself?
Justify being hedonistic? Judge those who are?
Desire the desired? Hate the hated?
Help the poor and the needy? Scorn the worthless and the greedy?
Work for the wants? Settle for the deeds?
Talk when talked about? Silent when unknown about?
Please oneself with applaud? Shy away when discerned?
Believe only the lucid? Doubt all the inconspicuous?
Luck? Effort?
Faith? Ambiguity?

Rhetorics can only do so much to stating purpose. The rest and above all, the infallible, is experience... Not in the manner of being wise and heavy wisdom. But in the manner of sensation.

What we see, hear, touch, smell, and taste is never enough. What we feel is always dubious. Everything is fragile and vulnerable. Its all Mahamaya.

Its raining, I can't jog. This cannot go on. The fats are piling...

I Wish I Was 5 Again...

I miss being a child... How much worries did we have being young??? All that needed pondering over was homework and school exams and society meetings and our parents' constant nudging on our studies...

I wish I was a child again;

To not know how much money meant;
To not care about what adults spoke about;
To not understand why two people in love stick together so often;
To not love anyone more than my parents;
To not worry about how much bank balance is left;
To not think about future plans;
To not comprehend why one should be politically correct;
To not have a myriad of responsibilities except being nice and bright;
To not have felt the severity of a broken heart;
To not mind being shallow minded;
To be just a child; innocence in its all...

Sometimes I wish I had never grown up...

How I wish...

...

Although things are moving along well, dancing, my studies, my family, my friends etc. there is one thing I still can't seem to shake off...

I still miss him very much...

How long is it going to take for closure???

Can't I forget him already???

PS: I received another "I miss u a lot" text message from him a few days back...

Where Do I Start?

Boy, where do I start?

Four yellow people were seated in a Nasi Kandar shop enjoying a meal and chatting away, pretty happily... Seated a few tables down the aisle was me, GJ Kind Boy and Funny Architect (refer to 'The Characters on Optimistic Always'). And suddenly we hear glass shattering. I turn around and lo and behold, in full blown violence, one yellow person was hitting another yellow person, repeatedly on his head. Not to mention being shouted at. Although I do comprehend basic conversational Mandarin and to a certain extent the popular dialect here a.k.a Hokkien, I was too perturbed to comprehend what the bickering was about. Too perturbed with the fact that the sound was caused by a glass mug flung towards a wall (one is guessing the perpetrator meant it for the other yellow person whom caused his wrath).  I turned around to my companions.

Hdaran          : Bro, I was just complaining that I had nothing to blog about. 
GJ Kind Boy : That's why bro. Full blown drama for you to blog about.

I always thought we, brown people, were the ones that usually caused the drama.

Funny Architect : Thank God not Indian people.
Hdaran              : We different bro. We usually find a secluded spot, make appointments and then only engage.

*laughs*

First of all, I ain't no racist, for if I had been, my best fren Cookies and Cakes would have been obligated to present similar genetic phenotypes before one would call him his best friend (Cookies and Cakes is yellow. And the terms yellow and brown should never be mis-concluded as a way of portraying ethnicity in an explicit manner; its just for fun.) Nor do I judge because I have seen Mr. P throw such tantrums in public. I was just shocked, I mean who wouldn't be? More baffling was the fact that anger can be that mismanaged. Can anger really surpass humiliation??? I haven't and I wouldn't allow it!!! Seriously!!!

On another thought, losing your directions on the road; it happens to all of us doesn't it??? Cookies and Cakes swears that I am almost direction-blind. I evoke his frustration all the time;

*phone call while driving* (I HAVE HANDS-FREE!!!)

Hdaran: Hey my walking, talking, breathing island GPS. I need some directions. I am at *** and I need to get to ***. How uh??? 
CnC: Adekadavule!!! Enna Hdaran??? (yes, yes, he's only yellow by skin, in fact he's too yellow that he proclaims to be a jaundiced yellow-man; he swears his liver has been genetically mutated to form those like the browns) This one also don't know ah??? Aiyo!!! Ok go straight on and you'll see..............

And so, before the former incident (the yellow men drama at the nasi kandar shop), I was driving around to see if i could remember High-Achieving Babe's residence; even managed to find it when one's adventurous mode lead him halfway across the other side of the island. The secluded part of the island where Digi, Celcom, Maxis, i Talk, u Talk, everyone Talk was obsolete. The amount of profanities I uttered, if anyone heard me, they would've sworn I was faking orgasm. But all that is well ends well. Thank God the driving was bound to a small island!!!

So, for the exciting news (I meant exciting in a happier tone not one that involves humour). Gunghroos, like I have gone on about, is something that I am yet to invest in. Proper gunghroos cost up to RM70, which may not seem much, but proper gunghroos do not cost that much in India. I was thinking of saving up until the time came when it was indeed a necessity. This friend of mine, Papilio Mamacita, however, is going on a trip to Rangoli Land and has promised to get me a pair!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was ecstatic!!!!!!! I did promise to help her sister with her future plans to re-pursue dancing; it was the least I could do.

I AM GETTING GUNGHROOS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FROM INDIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Image Source: http://www.jas-musicals.com/newsite/indian_musical_instruments_detail.asp?pid=593

And to top the good news off, Miss Sincere Inadequacy pulls off yet another generous doing. Upon knowing that I would've loved to own a camera asked me to keep the camera she intended to sell off. A Kodak Easyshare C613, it meant so much to me. I hope, if she's reading this, that I truly treasure her friendship. Not because she's been giving me all these material things (I received a Seed tote as a birthday gift, thanks to her...), its because she makes it seem effortless, like the giving was so ingenuous, sincere, like she is...

God, thanks for filling these material voids in the form of ever-hospitable friends. Whether it is meant to teach me a lesson or to plainly, make me devoid of material greed, I shall thank You always... I love You God. Thank You for watching over me. I shall be One with You in due time......

Society = (n) Individuals

I am surprised

#1 I never expected to revive it
#2 I never expected it to last
#3 I never expected to be wanting to do this after all that's already been done

My blog, it was at death's bed when I logged on early this year. But I pumped some colour, nursed it with some editing and started bringing it back to life with some writing; better organised ones. And voila!!! It is just the way I like it now...

I was 'blog hopping' (a term relatively new to me; a newborn to this whole blogging scenario) to find possible 'brown' (Indian) people whom owned one similar to mine from the same country (excuse me; not being a racist, just trying to find some similar grounds). Some hidden gem, somewhere, whose writing skills would blow my mind off (note: should never be concluded that I am blowing my own trumpet). I found out that Malaysian Indian bloggers predominantly blog about two things, socio-political issues and photography. And I must say, from their view-points some share very biased conclusions about many socio-political turbulences in the country. I (in my own opinion-after enough reading) can safely conclude that very little have the predisposition to properly convey the actual scenario we face in this country without bias.

Many forget that individuality counts in a society.
Many pre-conclude that people can be worked as a whole; mindsets changed with mere sharing/discussing/scrutiny of the issues.
Many fail to acknowledge their own shortcomings.
Most try to fight their points across blindly.

I just wish that these people, whom try too hard, take a walk into their own minds. Delve into their own negativity, search for answers within themselves. No one person/association/party/leader can change mindsets or vehemently coerce the society into religiously following suit in their footsteps (bad or good). Change should start from an individual because we can definitely and indefinitely influence people around us to follow suit in our beliefs IF we stick to them and graciously present its positive outcomes. After all, society IS made up of individuals. Its all the rule of the six degrees of separation; one changed person leads to another. The whole chain reaction, much like those of various MLM marketing strategies (wow, for once I see that it might have some use).

It is not a matter of who's right or wrong, nor is it a matter of debating difference in opinion. Whatever opinion is it that one shares, an action must follow suit therein proving the feasibility of the notion in question. It is not just about making yourself heard because speech, more often than not, falls upon deaf ears.

Actions speak louder than words.
The wise man fully understood empty talk.
He fully comprehended the power of doing.

How Dancing Was Upon Hdaran...

My first odissi class... Back-breaking!!! And this was the beginner's class, mind you!!! But what a pleasure it was!!! I am finally a student of one of the leading dance schools in Malaysia, learning one of the oldest Indian classical dance form properly. It was a lifelong dream (even I am getting bored of repeating this, just a minute, I AM NOT!!!!!!!!!!!). I was supposed to have enrolled in a dance school when I was 5, I think, and for some reason, my parents did not make it happen. Why didn't I throw a tantrum??? Wait stupid question, I was too much of a crowd-pleaser back then.

My entire life, I've had a passion for dance and for 19 years that passion never found its home.

Upon finishing my final public examination, I was determined to diverge from the science field but just as Cookies and Cakes mercilessly opened his big mouth, so I ended up doing my degree in biotechnology. But pursuing my degree didn't entirely shut away my passions (fashion studies saw its temporary-I hope-demise); dance, fell upon me.

So happened that all Indian students that subject themselves to the orientation (which meant being bullied -not physically though- by their seniors); are also subject to a competition organised by the Hindu Society of the former university in the first semester of every term. 12 residential colleges from the university sends their representatives to participate in various events. This competition posed a series of events that add up to a Champion Cup, one very much revered upon possession.

After about three weeks as a freshman, practice began as part of preparing us for the upcoming competition. Cutting the chase, after several considerations, I was switched from being the representative for the Malay public speaking match up, to the troupe that participated in the Indian traditional dance showdown. Reason; a senior of mine from the troupe met with an accident. That was my first ever debut on stage. I was probably the only junior in my entire batch of students that had fun during practice and while competing; everyone else went through sleepless night, torturous sessions of practice and excruciating criticism from our seniors for an entire week prior to the competition. I was a natural at dance and boy did I excel. After that event, my batch of Indian students knew me, the dancer, Hdaran, who rocked the stage.

The next three years and half years, things only got bigger and better and I was dancing endlessly, almost every other month if not every other week. Sometimes, performances were as frequent as three days in a row on various occasions for various events; on TV, in front of audiences thousands strong and on a few instances, tens of thousands strong. Every Indian in my university during the four years I was there knew Hdaran, and knew me as a dancer. What a sense of belonging that was; not because I was popular, more because I was known as a dancer.

Graduating put an end to it, however, my flame did not die out... After countless attempts which brought about disappointments after disappointments, I AM finally where I belong, in one of the finest Indian classical dance schools in the country, learning the oldest form of Indian classical dance.

*goosebumps*

Saturday, come already!!!

Bigotry, heard of it, however the term was never fully comprehended until the one moment called for the need to do so. How I wished I stumbled upon it earlier, this one word sums up many "all-knowing"s around me (yes, I used it as a noun). Reality check; you ain't God!!!

Talking about bigotry, how could one drink wine out of a mug (I am sorry but this had to be done; hate me or love me for it!!!). A 2000 Merlot!!! Mr Wink N U'll Know, preposterous!!! Cookies and Cakes claimed it was blasphemous!!! Comparing it to smearing a religious affair!!! Enough said, enough done... Reflect on it!!!

Come Saturday it all begins!!! My lifelong dream, dance, Indian classical dance!!! Odissi, my love, my passion. God knows this has been above all my most desperate yearning!!! I am more than just waiting, my heart longs for it like a parched desert traveler.

Lets See Come 9th November 2011

"If you love somebody let them go. If they come back, shoot them. If they do not, load your gun, find them and shoot them"

One of my retweets. Maybe I should do the same with Mr. P because even after so much of running away he manages to come around to haunt me. 

*sms beeps*

Miss u a lot. God bles u. Tc.

The adrenaline rush into my blood was so prevalent that I could literally hear my heart beat. 

Just when I decided to retire early to bed. The one night when I finally decided on a light early morning jog. 

Looked at the message three times and then...

*option*

*delete*

*paused for a few seconds*

*click*

All done. But alas, snoozing seemed impossible; those annoying words kept on forming in my head over an over again!!! Every time the body relaxes and the mind finally starts drifting away, the words keep popping up. A revelation it would be, to install a pop-up blocker into human brains.

Metro Me gave me the "Metro Me Recipe to Get Over Someone":

#1 Do not keep any contact for 12 months.

#2 Do not speak about him for 12 months.

#3 Do not FB status him for 12 months.

#4 Keep his thoughts to yourself for 12 months.

#5 If people ask say you're over him and do not want to hear about him; for 12 months.

#6 To close friends you may personally express your feelings.

Sounds like a plan. Lets see, 9th November 2010... Let's see what happens come 9th November 2011.

I am in LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ARRRGGGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I just discovered a Telugu movie actor that is smoking hot... I mean, absolutely drool-worthy!!!!!!!!! (sorry if anyone begs to differ) But yes, I AM IN LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oooooooooohhhhhh........... *Puts hands on the head*

*melts*

GRRRRRRRRR.........*faints*

Diwali 2010; Night

Until 5pm on Diwali I was devoid of my identity in black and white. Mom found it amidst her belongings in her room. More than the fact that I was barred from enjoying the festivities, I was restless because of the myriad of complaints, formalities and hassles it presents. The notion 'when you stop looking what you find eventually comes to you' has always been true in my life. Leave the wallet aside, almost everything else, love, friendships, acquaintances, name it... I find them only when I don't look for it....

Just as I was about to relax and enjoy what was remaining of the day, I got a call from a junior from my former university. Alcohol Pre-Presentation rang me up because he was back in Peaceful Suburb for Diwali. He was also part of the Indian gang I spent my undergraduate days with. So Alcohol Pre-Presentation tells me that he wants to meet up and I agreed. Tagging along was supposed to be Mr. Fuck A-Lot (Mr Fuck A Lot and Alcohol Pre-Presentation were acquainted even before they were undergraduates). Unsuspectingly, I drove out from my granny's place to the snooker center we were supposed to gather. As I was approaching the vicinity I spot Alcohol Pre-Presentation standing beside the road looking out for a familiar maroon coloured Wira to park. Lo and behold, my worst nightmares manifested into that one scene. Mr P's maroon Wira. That sneaky asshole!!! Alcohol Pre-Presentation and Mr. Fuck A Lot apparently and very conveniently left out the fact that Mr. P was driving them to meet me!!! WTF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It didn't take more than a second for me to drive straight on... I gave all three a rain-check via text message and drove around... Calls after calls started pouring in... And three replies... I ended further communication with a reply to each one of them and ignored their calls... It took every ounce of will-power in me to avoid the very place they were stationed at but I did drop by to see his car and give a kiss goodbye to it...

Diwali 2010, will stick around in my memory for a very long time...

Diwali 2010

Diwali opened with a bang!!!

I misplaced my wallet...

I hope it comes running back to me...

I'll give it a another 24 hours and then its to the men in hideous blue...

HAPPY DIWALI HDARAN!!!

Through adversity comes various learning experiences...

I should be glad this is yet another one of those moments....

Untimely but a lesson learnt nevertheless...

The Luxuries Of Being In Love: I Am Clueless

There isn't really an account of what Mr. P and I had behind closed doors. It started out as a mere senior-junior attachment. I don't know why but vividly etched into my mind are the first words we uttered to each other.

Hdaran: Kaale enna achi??? (What happened to your leg??? - he was suffering some sport injury)
Mr. P: Panthe velade mothe adi patterichi... (i hurt myself during a football match)
Hdaran: Aperum KS??? (How bout KS then??? -  KS is a football competition that Indians in the university I am formerly from, take very seriously)
Mr. P: Buta dot com tha. (Its blind dot com - A very Malaysian Indian way of saying 'its going to be a waste')
*walks into his room*

Mr. P NEVER appeared to be the good looking one of his batch-mates to me initially. I always found other guys in his group of boys attractive. He was not my 'type';

Too small sized (the body; yes, only the body frame).
Lacking facial hair (I loooooooove goatees and French beards on men).
Facial features too sharp.
Bad command of the English language. Wait, wait, no command over the English language.
Fashion blind (although I must say, my preferences in style may have brushed off him in recent times).

I never made approaches to get closer to him whatsoever. I've made up, in my subconscious, an unlisted, unspoken, untold rule about keeping my socio-romantic endeavours with outsiders only. I wouldn't mind if he was a graduate from the same university as long as the student-university bond was past tense; broken so to speak.

He, however, did. And that's how we became closer.

I sometimes look back at my love affairs and wonder. So far, I have never had passionate, warm, lovey-dovey moments with someone I truly loved.

Mr I Think I Am Too Good to Be True: I had one, just ONE friendly hug from him. The closest I've ever  physically got to him.

Godbro: We've laid on bed side by side on bed but nothing more....

Mr. P: The sexual encounters aside, it was only once he lied on me, both of us naked, his head cradled by my neck in each others' arms. (I was in heaven; that particular moment was like...............)

About our sexual encounters (Mr.P and myself);

It was mostly oral; I performed he received. Twice it came to almost anal, I turned him down the first time and the second time we were too drunk. He has never kissed me. He has never hugged me, cuddled me, slept side by side in bed with me (although once when I did accidentally fall asleep next to him, he kept putting his leg on me several times before I realised he was spotting an erection that led to another blowjob session). NEVER told me he loved me (once he said it on YM, ON YAHOO MESSENGER!!! I doubt that counts). I have never had a long proper conversation with him, just the two of us that was romantic. Most of the time, when its time for bed, those conversations were actually multi-tasked; massages for him. Romance-like conversations mostly led to his ejaculation unless of course we are interrupted (yes, that has happened, not in the act though). There were times, during exams, I used to help him with his studying and memorizing WHILE giving him a massage. And even if we did have long proper conversations with him, it was always ABOUT him. Yes, we did have countless proper conversations.

No, I thought to myself, I have never been truly, deservingly in love. No jolts after jolts of pure joy in my heart because I was cuddled up with the person I love, or an eye-to-eye moment where that person I love, says it, fully fueled with hormones; I love you. Never have I kissed the person I love with reciprocation nor have I had him lay on my shoulders just because he liked the comfort it provides. Never have I had arms around me from the back from the person I love with his warm breath down my naked shoulders nor have I had a peck from him in the morning when he wakes up to see me lying down beside him; his most precious belonging.

I know how it is like being truly in love but the luxury that it presents is an unexplored world of Tinsel Town to me; a toddler, pertinently. It is daunting that I am yet to properly say to a person fully comprehending its meaning and impact; "I Love You" or "Get Out of My Life" primarily because I am yet to be in a relationship and yet to stray out of one. Grey shades; doesn't get more grey than this to me.

Try as I've might, I just can't seem to feel the same way I used to feel. Like I am out there again, looking for love, like 'it' can ever happen again.

I still see him in everything...

My brother and his gf, my parents, alcohol, cigarettes, speaking Tamil, speaking English (because he was so bad at it), the word 'Love', the word 'Hate', every motorcycle, every maroon Wira, every vehicle registration plate that resembles his phone number or his motorcycle or car number, the Indian bazaars, dancing, makeup, my Facebook page, my hostel, my hostel room, any nasi kandar eatery, any Indian food outlet, KFC, dance clubs, baseball caps, football, some of my clothes, watching TV, computer games (whenever I spot people playing them), and on and on....

I seem to always, constantly and unknowingly, relate everything to him... Even God because his name also means God.

They say time heals everything... However, I am very vague about the dosage and its credibility...

PS: It is said when you involuntarily cough (because some fluid in you throat has gone in the wrong direction) someone is thinking of you very deeply. Superstition I know. Funny, every time that happens to me I think of one person whom might be thinking of me. Even as I typed the last sentence of this entry before post-script, it happened and one guess which face flashed upon my mind.