"Liar!"
'Which lie did you catch?'
"Why?"
'I will lie some more accordingly. '

A cup and a saucer

Cup

I will stay right here.
You go live my life now,
I shall watch.
Once you burn out,
I will take your story,
Make it worth reading.
I will take the sad parts,
Romanticize them;
And the joyous days,
I will keep them the same.
And then read it back to myself,
So when I do do live it,
I don't rethink my own deeds,
I don't doubt myself,
I can feel inspired by myself.

Saucer

For once I saw an ad for time travel,
It said 'safety not guaranteed',
And I thought to myself,
When is it ever?

Fallen through the rabbit hole,
I am on the other side.
I talk with my perception of yours,
And my own voices from the past echo.                       
I tell you this is not worth an argument,
But your imaginary answer is either impeccable or truth.

I am a werewolf on a moonlit night,
Bound to howl at faded skies. 
Not the ocean made to tide,
Just a fool to not leap over the rabbit hole.
I have fallen through the rabbit hole.
Yet again.

Gatsby

I felt inspired while watching 'the great gatsby' to get back home and write something. But by the end of the movie, I went through patches of extreme boredom and that killed my muse.

Anyway, I have said this before too. (Some day, some time, some where... ) That I love watching movies (good ones) because they help me disconnect and look at life in retrospect or imagine a future. And while watching Gatsby I realized this unrealistically romantic perspective that film directors love to give to personalities who are different from the crowd. And then a couple in seats ahead of me kissed.

"Work in progress, forever"

Stagnancy and Independence

Need a continuous personal progress. Stagnancy or a rut is going to make you sad and depressed. Keep doing new things that tickle your mind. Meet new people, do new stuff.

You need independence. Depending on others just leads to disappointment.

Travel. Kills both stagnancy and dependence. Take a cheap motel in philly and go photographying.

First Step to Recovery

They say first step to solving a problem is to accept that you have one. And after so many years I believe I can accept that I suffer from depression. I know its not clinical but with a history like mine and mind like mine it is chronic for sure.

Next step is to consciously combat it.

Diagnosis

I found the word: Constipated. That is exactly how I feel when any decision is pending inside my brain. However non urgent the situation be, I cannot tolerate when I cannot make a certain decision. My body's metabolism continues along with involuntary, subconscious, routine activities. But rest all comes to a virtual pause.

This is just the diagnosis of a condition I have just passed through. Cure or prevention is yet to be discovered.

Instructions Manual for Headache Free Socializing

Meet new people ---- > First Impression: Cultured Baffoons or Annoying Cicadas or Gossiping Geckos or Interesting Giraffes.

Try to put Baffoons and Cicadas into the nameless faces box.

Immediately tattoo the Gossiping Geckos as enemies with a hot branding iron.

Possibly meet up with Interesting Giraffes again.

If Interesting Giraffes are fun to be with, meet regularly. If not, stay in touch on facebook.

If you meet Interesting Giraffes too frequently then there are two possibilities:

One, you become Siamese twins.

Two, the Giraffe starts to show a split personality. Sometimes a Cicada, sometimes a Gecko and sometimes a Giraffe. In this case, you sometimes call them nameless faces, sometimes brand them as enemy and sometimes plant tall trees around them to see if they really are Giraffes.

The End.

Saturday

The week's passed and I am back :-). Well I certainly am happier and you may ask if I found that bit of pure happiness that I was looking for. No, I haven't. But human mind has it's own way of dealing with depression. Act happy superficially and it seeps in a little.  I exaggerated little joys and met new people - seems to be working. Other than that nothing much has changed. I may create an online professional page for myself.  Archiving my work in various fields in one place. 

Monday Afternoon

It is about six thirty in the evening, Sun's still indian five pm high in the sky. I'm sipping coffee at a cafe situated in one of the internal lanes of the university - looking out the glass wall, observing a whole spectrum of undergraduates walk by.

Sorority girls, footballers, assertive fashion models, skate boarders, an occassional jogger, bunch of playful monkeys, cute kids, a rare interesting looking person - most juveniles, some matured. They look at me, I look at them - I doubt either one of us gets entertained in the process.

What is so special about today? Nothing other than the fact that I have decided to document it. Why? Because I am running short of patience to sit alone and sip coffee. I am just here till I finish this cup of coffee and get a free refill. Then I walk out of here to another spot where I can be alone and try to create a mood to study for the exam tomorrow.  Somehow I am not, in the slightest, concerned about studying for it. Past two weeks all I have been looking for is an ounce of pure happiness and then I can move on with life as usual. Why do I need it? Because I need to be reassured that life is lively. Because I need to know I am capable of 'accepting and adjusting' when I bump into a hurdle. Because I need to know I am not simply running laps, that I am broadening my horizon. Because I need to know that even if I am simply running laps I do it with zest swelling inside my chest. Because I need to know that I can channel my fears into courage and curiosity. 

Why did I decide to etch this down today? Now? Because I will start studying, enhancing skills and being responsible towards the money that the university pays me. I am in research because there is nothing else that I can imagine doing day in and day out. Atleast here I have the slight hope of broadening my horizon, sharpen or maintain my cognition and metacognition. So before I immerse myself into pursuit of physics tonight and into struggle for survival, I thought I could make a desperate attempt to write down how I really feel.

Tada!

Fuelled by a host of new experiences and observations , I have taken on this project to write a new anoynmous blog. Those who know me will certainly be able to see through the thin fog of anonymity. For those who don't know me, I have a duty-de-honesty to explain the inarguably pretentious title of this blog.

I used to pronounce building as byoolding as was taught in my primary school so I am not really an expert on phonetics. But as far as my pseudo confidence tells me 'Psi Baba' is phonetically same as Sai Baba who thankfully died recently after coaxing the gullible Indians for a majority of his lifetime. Psi, on the other hand is a greek letter commonly used in quantum mechanics. Yes, you guessed it right. That's the branch of Physics which leaves out a room for all sorts of weird interpretations that people like Rhonda Byrne exploit to earn their daily bread by selling hopes and dreams to people who don't have balls to dream for themselves. Well, I certainly empathize with such folks because life can kick you in the nards pretty hard sometimes. And when you have stars and birds circling your head you might want to give a few of your precious coins to buy some dreams. All this beating about the bush might be used to corner me into accepting that I wasn't this wise when I fell prey to people selling Rhonda Byrne to me. If I may, I will like to earn some of my credibility back by saying that 'the secret' got brutally murdered inside my, then adolescent, brain in just a matter of few weeks.

"Now why am I reading this blab fest?", you may ask to yourself. I will say I am not sure why am I writing it in the first place. So that brings us both on the same page and it's a reason enough for both of us to go on to the next idea encapsulated by my blog's title.

Amrika is the Indian folksy way to refer to The United States of America. Now every time I expand on the abbreviation of USA I can't help but laugh a little inside my head because it used to be the giggle inducing Under Skirt Area for us boys sitting on the third row in a class of fifty during my school days which I remember fondly after having tactfully eliminated most of the memories.

I am flying back to the dreadful rut that I call  being a graduate student after a vacation - a large part of which I spent studying in a new town when I could be discovering the place on foot or on bicycle. The nice afro-american lady in the seat beside me just told me smilingly, 'you are a blogger!'. And called me a literary person. What could be a nicer way to end this entry. Now, you may neigh a sigh of relief. So will I... sigh...