Pearl Harbor

I don't know how the thought of writing about this never occurred to me. Despite the million times I've watched it, the zillion tears I've shed for it, the many more times that I've craved for a love like this.

Everything about this movie gives me goose-flesh. The plot, the music, the wonderful visuals, but most of all, the love-story. The entwined lives of Danny, Evelyn and Rafe. I couldn't perhaps ever believe in love like Rafe again because I grew to believe things like that don't exist. I don't know a soul today who could tell his love all in the midst of feeling betrayed and cheated, " When I was lying half-dead, I made a deal with God. If I could just see you one more time, I would never ask for anything again. And you know what I'll keep my word." Rafe's love is something that would remain in my memory as the perfect example of true love. Selfless, Giving, yet so content with just the feeling of loving someone so much.

Evelyn's love for Rafe, half the world away, is something else which is so beautiful. The amount of solace she finds in his letters. Images of her sitting by the sunset, while she writes to Rafe " Every night I watch the sunset and soak up the last ounce of heat from its long tired day and send it from my heart to yours." Such a patient kind of love. Distant, yet constantly bound by thoughts. Being alone, yet never truly in the sense of the word, because Rafe's love was constantly with her. Something I still look at and smile, admiring the love she bears for him.

Evelyn and Danny's love-story is reminiscent of two teenagers falling in love. Torn by grief with the news of Rafe's death, finding complete solitude in the pathos within each other's hearts. Willingly letting each other pick up the broken pieces of their lives, trying to put it all back together, but silently worrying that war doesn't crush their lives again. So much of togetherness, in common pain, so much of love in the pangs of loneliness.

And finally, as death did do apart Rafe and Evelyn, it did bring them back together. Danny's death while trying to save Rafe seems like fate wanting Rafe to be with the woman he loved and reason he lived, for the rest of his life. It seems ironic when Evelyn tells Rafe before he and Danny leave for war, " I'll never stop loving you, but I'm going to give my heart to Danny. But I also can never look at another sunset without thinking of you.", Because the last scene of the movie, shows Rafe and Evelyn walk into the sunset together, as two lovers, as a family, as two people in whose hearts Danny will live forever.

Pearl Harbor, the movie, for me, will remain this ode to love, though it may for many others, simply remain as a recreation of what made America join the war. Every piece of music by Hans Zimmer's soundtrack for the movie leaves me with the image of the warm sunset. Of the love these three characters bore for each other. Of the kind of love, I wish I ever get to experience someday. Simple, Innocent, True, COMPLETE!

Can Friends Make the Best Lovers?

If you can share a pizza with a friend and talk about your life does that mean you can share your life with the same person?

Friendship and Love according to me work on almost the same principles. Trust, comfort, togetherness. Then what makes love so special? I feel that love brings with itself a soulful connection that just takes friendship to another level. In most cases I feel that friends have proved to be the best lovers and companions but sometimes friendship gets mistaken for love and that’s where the whole problem arises.

Your friend knows you in and out. Knows what makes you smile, what makes you cry, is there for you when you do cry and knows how to calm you down. A friend can care for you in ways the whole world can’t even think of. That’s what makes him so special. But what if that’s as far as it goes? Is it fair of you to expect him to love you?

When two friends do hook up, one of the three things is bound to happen. It’ll either work out, or it won’t or it won’t work out but the friendship will remain.

Sometimes people get lucky and there is a mutual connection between the friends. That’s when things are bound to work out. When you share every fragment of your life with a person, there isn’t much else left to share with anyone else. And when that person reciprocates and loves you back with same intensity that’s when this relationship will definitely work out.

On the other hand, sometimes two people are better off being friends. When they do hook up with an attempt to take this friendship to another level when its absolutely not required then it won’t even take-off. The whole feeling of being with a friend who ‘loves’ you is great in the beginning. But most of the times you’re just taking a chance. Love is surely a gamble but why should the stakes be so high? With friendship comes honesty and with love comes intimacy. Your friend knows exactly how you feel about him or about another person romantically and if you are indeed playing the fool, he’d for sure realize. And if this relationship doesn’t work out then who do you have to blame? No one but yourself for losing a friend who genuinely did care for you. And that’s something that will haunt you forever.

Sometimes, you do get lucky and despite the goof-up the friend remains in your life and if you get luckier the friendship becomes a lot thicker. Picture this, you love a certain flavor of ice-cream, say chocolate. For kicks, you try out vanilla. Its plain, not least bit what you thought it would be and you realize you’re better off with chocolate. That’s what might happen if you hook up with a friend. Sometimes you realize that the person is better off in your life as a friend not as your lover. Here the friendship is so strong that it pulls the two of you together like a magnet and keeps the friendship alive. That’s the best possible scenario because frankly you lost nothing. You gave your emotions a chance and at the end of it you didn’t lose that friend.

There is a thin-line that separates love and friendship and it’s up to you to see that line or not. You can be blind to it and take the next step with your friend. Or you can be aware of the consequences of such a decision and make an informed choice. Incase you do choose to ask out a friend, ask yourself what’s more important, your inexplicable rush of emotions or your friend.

Who I was and Who I am..

Two smiles I wear in quiet denial,

Two lives I lead in silent oblivion.

Each blow of time lands me in fresh pain,

obvious to the world, yet to myself a mystery I remain.

Crushed embers burn my path, as I walk past the rubble of yesterday,

The sun shines on brighter, but time seems to have frozen today.

I've cried over my wounds, as I saw them bleed me dry,

A part of me drowned each time, at a moment that person did die.

The seeds of time sowed a new existence, a new life,

I live with the hope of a happier tomorrow, I will break free from the strife.

Each breath is calmer, this is a living, not a quest for survival,

This is what they are, the pain and the hope are these smiles of denial.

What's that pain in the heart called?

Ever felt like that?

That numbing..heart-wrenching feeling in the middle of your chest that sort of kills you with each breath you take?

Its cold. Its deathly. But its there. Inside of you. Calling out to you. Begging you to fix it. To do something to stop the pain. While you are too absorbed in the misery of living, drowned in tears oblivious to these calls from within.

Thats what it is. Thats exactly heartbreak. Heartache. Whatever you want to call it. Thats what it is.

It happens you know. In most cases, when you love someone way more than you love yourself. There goes that feeling of doing something for yourself because in true Bryan Adams style everything you do, you do it for him!

And yet, at times whatever you do, is not sufficient. It falls short. Your love falls that tad short of his expected standards from his prior experience(which you now wish you could wipe off the face of this earth with utmost brutality). And when you do feel ineligible to be loved back in return like you expect to, you squirm back into the realms of your self and let your feelings be thrown away like grains of sand as each wave of criticism wipes out their existence.

And then again, when that pain spurts off a new kind of feeling, of insecurity, of despair, of helplessness and you cringe and scream and retort with aggression, you turn out to be the bad one. He wouldn't ever understand that you can't suddenly forget the past and when it hits you right between the eyes, its bound to hurt. Forget him. For a fact, not a soul in this world can experience the helplessness and the anger all the same time that that foolish heart of yours feels.

Its a pity. Its a grave pity that the heart that wants to love is told to not to love. A heart that wants to give is accused of accusing. A heart that wants a future is told to get over the past, when the past is dictating our present.

The future can never be bright for two people who choose to delve in the past. Who choose to bring back bad memories of may I add bad people and jeaopardise the present. How can these people even make the mistake of dreaming of a future together when they can't get past their simple flaws? How does that work? It doesn't and never will.

Time lost is lost forever and doesn't return ever. Bad memories are Bad news for the present and great news for a relationship-epitaph if thats what two people want out of a battle of who did what and who has wronged who more.

But in the middle of all this, the heart of this dreamer has cried out loud. Because it is broken into as many countless parts as it cant imagine itself. This is an ode. An ode to a lover, a dreamer, thrown in the sea of reality who stopped dreaming..Just because it hurts too much to dream. Because some dreams are never meant to come true! They just die their own silent deaths with each tick on the clock. And life surprisingly, still goes on.

Is it criminal to change?

How many times have you had a fight with your best friend or someone extremely close to your heart and ended it saying-“You don’t need to change for me.” Lets get down to dirty reality, did you really mean it? Personally, everytime Ive said this line, I’ve let a silent sigh in my heart hoping that the other person would understand me! Its martyrdom to accept differences, suicidal to change, but there comes a time when it works more as an elixir than as a stab of poison.

A relationship grows stronger with an acceptance of different temperaments, ideologies and emotions. Often one person ends up moulding themselves too much and stifling the real person within their heart. This soft silent death of reality in a quest to keep alive a relatuionship is trulyt he defeat of the love they profess for each other. Now tell me is it better to change or to kill your true self?

Now changing doesn’t seem too bad does it?If it still does, try to look at it this way. Its growth. Remember the cycle of life,Birth,growth,death. To grow is to explore. If you never grew up, you’d srill be living in a crib, acting cranky and would die an infant death. Try looking at a plant. As it grows nurtured with care, it sheds its old leaves and undergoes a process of youthful regeneration. It changes too, but only for the better.

It is indeed inevitable to change,then why attemot to stop it? Why wallow in the depths of misery questioning it? The truth is, everytime you tell a person not to change, you yourself bend a little and make a small promise to yourself not to ever let this bother you again. Each such promise is a milestone in your journey and before you know it, you’ll reach the end turning out to be a vividly different person than the one you started out to be.

THE BROKEN SPELL

Broken and crushed I lie here in wait,

I'm tired of this suffering, the pain and sweat.

Roses aren't for me, I can picture a wreath,

I'm stifled now, its getting hard to breathe.

I'm tired of being this way, I cant even cry,

My screams are drowned, my tears are now dry.

I'm tired of their whines, their endless grudges,

I'll live my way, not on borrowed crutches.

I'm not a toy, or a blob of clay,

Then why should I bend their way?

They say I do not feel, they fail to see me bleed,

Trying to turn me into one of them, its just their greed.

I want to walk my way, find my own religion,

If I fall and fail, it'll be my own decision.

Let me walk to my grave, don't carry me there,

I want to kiss my death, not die in despair.

I have a million options, let me be the one to choose,

I'm not their hell hole, their object of abuse.

I see a distant light, the door is open,

I will be myself, the spell is now broken!

My First Love

Some love stories start with the rain bringing two lovers together throught the forces of nature locking them together in the warmth of a rain-soaked embrace, while some end in the rain with two lovers walking away, drenched in nature's fury. My love story however strange it may seem, IS the rain. Yes, I am in love with the rain and will make no two bones to admit that it is indeed my first love and will probably be that eternal love.

As a child, I often marvelled at the unbound bounty of the clouds and how they managed to soak the earth. I have memories of tricking my mom into believing that I'm only watching the rain while I would actually plot and plan to stealthily slip out into the backyard and stare at the sky till the raindrops hurt my eyes, hard enough to make me give up. Looking for icicles, putting them in my mouth and squirming my eyes with the freeze. Running helter-skelter in the rain to find shelter when I was out playing just a little too far from home. These are the small pleasures of my childhood, obviously bound and enveloped by the one thing that refused to change and grow up, The RAIN!

Today, the rain doesn't bring and wondrous amazement to my eyes as it did back then. Instead, it brings a twinkle to my eyes, a sparkle no other season could. Off-late I've also realised that the rain makes me think of love more than any other time. It is this downpour that makes my mind rewind to the dreams of a perfect love in my growing-up years.

Silly to some people maybe, but it still makes me wonder how insanely romantic it would be to take a walk through a garden holding hands, fighting the rain. Or even how great it must feel to just sit with someone I love out in the patio, sipping a cup of hot coffee tinged with the flavour of the rain. Or how perfect would it be to sit in a car with the top up at the edge of a cliff and feel like you were floating on the dark dense clouds.

Also, I feel that there's no fragrance ever made that could come even close to the scent of the first fresh raindrops on a lonesome, emaciated, blistering piece of earth. Arden and Estee could turn their researching centres upside down but no fragrance can ever appeal as much as the priceless yet invaluable scent of the first rain.

I see people shiver and run for cover when it rains. I still cannot fathom why! Perhaps, its just me to whom the cold rain manages to bring a warmth in each raindrop. Warmth of perhaps a love, from an unknown land. Or maybe from the skies above, from those who left me lookin up at the clouds for them.

Charlie Chaplin once said that he loved walking in the rain because then noone would see him cry. I personally haven't felt anything close to that and I don't think I ever can because it has been the rain that has given me enough reason to stop crying and smile to myself when life has been at its ebb.

That's the kind of love-story I have with the rain and that's why I call it my first love. A force that magically wraps itself around me when I want to cry. Someone who's voice is music to my ears and who's scent drives my senses wild. My childhood sweetheart, a warm flame on a cold night. Someone who's intricately bound in both my dreams and my memories. That is the kind of stuff true love is made of. I'm just glad to be a part of it, to be insanely in love with the one thing I know that neither time, nor death, nor the past, nor any other force can conquer, the love of my life, The RAIN.

Some love stories start with the rain bringing two lovers together throught the forces of nature locking them together in the warmth of a rain-soaked embrace, while some end in the rain with two lovers walking away, drenched in nature's fury. My love story however strange it may seem, IS the rain. Yes, I am in love with the rain and will make no two bones to admit that it is indeed my first love and will probably be that eternal love.

As a child, I often marvelled at the unbound bounty of the clouds and how they managed to soak the earth. I have memories of tricking my mom into believing that I'm only watching the rain while I would actually plot and plan to stealthily slip out into the backyard and stare at the sky till the raindrops hurt my eyes, hard enough to make me give up. Looking for icicles, putting them in my mouth and squirming my eyes with the freeze. Running helter-skelter in the rain to find shelter when I was out playing just a little too far from home. These are the small pleasures of my childhood, obviously bound and enveloped by the one thing that refused to change and grow up, The RAIN!

Today, the rain doesn't bring and wondrous amazement to my eyes as it did back then. Instead, it brings a twinkle to my eyes, a sparkle no other season could. Off-late I've also realised that the rain makes me think of love more than any other time. It is this downpour that makes my mind rewind to the dreams of a perfect love in my growing-up years.

Silly to some people maybe, but it still makes me wonder how insanely romantic it would be to take a walk through a garden holding hands, fighting the rain. Or even how great it must feel to just sit with someone I love out in the patio, sipping a cup of hot coffee tinged with the flavour of the rain. Or how perfect would it be to sit in a car with the top up at the edge of a cliff and feel like you were floating on the dark dense clouds.

Also, I feel that there's no fragrance ever made that could come even close to the scent of the first fresh raindrops on a lonesome, emaciated, blistering piece of earth. Arden and Estee could turn their researching centres upside down but no fragrance can ever appeal as much as the priceless yet invaluable scent of the first rain.

I see people shiver and run for cover when it rains. I still cannot fathom why! Perhaps, its just me to whom the cold rain manages to bring a warmth in each raindrop. Warmth of perhaps a love, from an unknown land. Or maybe from the skies above, from those who left me lookin up at the clouds for them.

Charlie Chaplin once said that he loved walking in the rain because then noone would see him cry. I personally haven't felt anything close to that and I don't think I ever can because it has been the rain that has given me enough reason to stop crying and smile to myself when life has been at its ebb.

That's the kind of love-story I have with the rain and that's why I call it my first love. A force that magically wraps itself around me when I want to cry. Someone who's voice is music to my ears and who's scent drives my senses wild. My childhood sweetheart, a warm flame on a cold night. Someone who's intricately bound in both my dreams and my memories. That is the kind of stuff true love is made of. I'm just glad to be a part of it, to be insanely in love with the one thing I know that neither time, nor death, nor the past, nor any other force can conquer, the love of my life, The RAIN.