Ghosts That We Knew

But the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view
Just promise me we'll be alright

It feels strange to be typing here after so long. To write out a post that will be on my BLOG. I think somewhere down the line, I lost the interest to whine on a public platform. And those who read my blog would agree. Pretty much all I did was whine. Another friend says the blog became the friend, and my whines and outpours that generally went on here, were being lamented to said friend. But I miss writing. I missed the blog, and so here I am. A big shout-out to all the wonderful bloggers who I've been following who manage to keep theirs alive, and intriguing and write well thought out posts all the time. 

I'm at that point in life where I'm excited about the future. I thought I'd decided what to do once and for all, and then new, and more challenging and avenues that suited me opened up. The only and biggest challenge here, is how I go about ensuring I get an entry into the above avenue. 20 years old, and already I feel so world weary. I suppose I am one of those "old-souls" that you keep hearing about. 

I just finished reading The Shadow Lines by Amitav Ghosh. No book in recent memory captured my imagination so much. The writing, the characters, and the writing! It showed pure mastery of prose. It was highly evocative, and with such simple language too. I will go back to it many times. 

…that unthinkable, adult truth: that need is not transitive, that one may need without oneself being needed. 

You see, in our family we don't know whether we're coming or going - it's all my grandmother's fault. But, of course, the fault wasn't hers at all: it lay in language. Every language assumes a centrality, a fixed and settled point to go away from and come back to, and what my grandmother was looking for was a word for a journey which was not a coming or a going at all; a journey that was a search for precisely that fixed point which permits the proper use of verbs of movement.

Perhaps the real reason why I write, is that I am in the middle of my end semester exams. I have commemorated all except one set of sem exams on here, and this just felt like the right thing to do. Tomorrow, I will be tested about "Embedded and Real Time Systems", and right now, all I know of ERTS is  that well, "Everything that is not a desktop comptuer is an embedded system"

19:26 p.m. and I am not at all in the frame of mind to force my brain to absorb more material which is utterly useless. Every exam is turning out to be the same, and I am returning to my "I will be happy if I pass" phase and utterly ignoring the fact that hard work and dedication are necessary for studying.

Whoa. I am quite rusty at this. I thought that I would get better, but alas, it didn't happen. Not in this post, anyway.

While I am getting rustier, there are friends who are becoming brilliant. Check this freeverse poem out by an ex-blogger, and now journalist, and apparently a very good poet; Rachaita.


This dull heartache-
                  of which you’ll never know,
follows me around
                 wherever it is I go
the city wide; and I smile
                at an imagined sight
a whim, a fanciful dream
               awake, in broad daylight
I might have seen  you today
               that day, or the day before
these  little tricks my mind play
              keep leaving me baffled & sore
I don’t understand what makes it so difficult
              to let your memory go
when that is all that you are to me-
               A person I do not know. 

Can't you all identify with that? I can, so much. Read more of her work here:

This post has no head, no tail, no meaning, whatsoever. I am going back to my old ways, after all!

See you around folks! 

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