Stopopedia

it's been two hours of organizing, analysing leading, resolving, competing and teaching. two hours of talks on  humans  and intelligence-  sometimes (mostly) artificial. some humans are resources- muscles to be exercised.  a future for machines? or one for humans? hybridity? Lies, i say! oh, my back! my legs! my eyes! i am falling asleep.    thank you to a very sleepy taarina for scribbling some lines that inspired this poem!

yesterday,  you should just have left when i told you to.  i was being nice and considerate,  willing to give you time,  accepting that the space we had was a shared one.  i tried  i waited in the darkness hoping that the lack of that warm yellow feeling  would finally tell you what i had been saying all along: just. leave.  even in the darkness  i could feel you.  your zing was hard to ignore.  in the darkness, I told myself,  ' patience ,  in this forest,  it is i who am the intruder.' but patience is not a gift i have.  you forced me  to turn on the lights,  locate you on the walls and end you with one clean sweep  of my broom.  i tried.  you really should have just left.  -on killing a dragonfly.

  Image Source: Freepik   To Prufrock   He sits across the table Staring deep into his coffee cup, Counting every stir of his spoon. I look at him as he focuses on his coffee, Considering. Deliberating.   He is lean and fair, With honest eyes Lost in some otherworldly thought, His mind calculating some complexity. Something bothers him- Causing him to avert his eyes To his empty palms on his lap, or to the wall behind me. Something that causes him to look everywhere, But directly into my eyes And reveal truths that flicker just beneath; Something that unconsciously Brings him to run his fingers through his hair, As though wanting To hide a part of himself From wicked eyes that yearn to devour.   What is it  That makes you so digress?  What is it  That holds you back, The question dancing right at the tip of your tongue, Waiting to slip right out And exist in the silence before us? Desire stirs, yet dies unclaimed, I feel it, sharp, the pulse benea...

An odd assortment of English, kesudas and golden showers Agatha Christie once said, ‘Nothing like boredom to make you write.’ It is true. As I write this, I am sitting in the library with my books open in front of me and I, for the life of me, cannot make myself study Hamlet and his sad tale. Like every normal teenager, I turned to surfing the net and suddenly remembered that I have a blog. Here I am, writing on said blog, hoping to make this an awesome entry. English is a funny language. The plural of foot is feet and not foots and the plural of goose is geese and not gooses . All through school and until quite recently, I, like many others, had just accepted this funny quality of the English language and simply followed the rules. English is a wonky tongue, I told myself. But now, for one hour on most days, I get to understand English and the what’s and why’s of the language. Yes, English is a wonky language but now I get to have my mind blown by why it is so wonky. You know, i...

Time! Aren't you just a daydream! Had I been writing in the pen-paper mode, I would have had a whole mess of crumpled paper balls around me, on the floor. I have a bunch of ‘untitled document’-s with paragraphs of varying lengths in my google docs- a testimony of the number of times I have attempted to talk about time travel. See, the thing is, ever since I read this book called ‘Before the Coffee Gets Cold’ I have been thinking about time travel. I have been wanting to talk about time travel and about the fact that the book is lovely even though it is translated from Japanese. The universe is telling me to write about it, at this point, because wherever I look, time travel is all I see! I must say, for a race without any superpowers, we do fantasize about it too much. Take something as basic as the cartoon ‘Doraemon’. Tell me, what normal, Doraemon-watching kid hasn’t ever dreamt of having a walking-talking robot who is your ultimate panacea? I suppose, feeling annoyed at Nobita a...

New books, unromantic rains and some other stuff What do you think this blog post is going to be about? Rains in the month of June? Probably. However, since the title has the word ‘June’ in it, I can assure you that this will be something related to the month of June. In hindsight, I could have pretended to be a wonderful author and whipped up something totally unexpected and swooned you but hey! Who am I kidding? The last time I wrote something half decent was a very long time ago and that’s kind of why I am here talking to you through this blog. Here I am, wiping the metaphorical dust and cobwebs off my blog page and writing something entirely new. At the moment, I hope this newfound motivation of mine stays and I successfully keep my blog from gathering dust again. (Fingers crossed!) If you're thinking, ‘Krishna, stop. You haven't written for a long time and you’re procrastinating by simply rambling.’, I won’t keep you waiting any longer and dive right in. As promised, I wil...