Cash flow flux

It seems that money doesn’t go well with me. As soon as it reaches me, it goes somewhere else, it doesn’t seem to sit well with me. Maybe I should give all the money to her? Can I allow her to keep all the money without me keeping any but still having enough to go ahead in life?

Am i being superstitious about this? Should I give transferring all my money to her a chance.That means I will have to be showing in my books of accounts that I am living on a measly income. That’s not at all bad.

Let me see test a few symptoms –

  • Keep 50k with you and see for how long it stays there
  • Does the amount multiply or substract
  • What were the reasons why it got substracted.

Experiment with this and see.

 

 

Trying to pick myself up…

I’m not able to get into the crux of the art. I need to give more attention to it and rid myself of the subsidiary activities. My taxes are the current thing bothering me now. I think it would be ideal to make a list and future progression of things.

Things haven’t gone the way I thought they would. By this time I should’ve been rich with a Range Rover. How did this happen? I think I realised my market worth? I need to increase my market worth and how do I go around doing that?

The things that you know and you’ve done –

  • Read books
  • Exercise regularly
  • Wake up early
  • Work like it guilts you
  • etc etc

But what’s keeping me back. I am an eclectic person. From 2013-2016, that’s 3 years I have been a lazy ass and have destroyed some important qualities that I had. One is definitely seeking behaviour. I need to start seeking the way I used to.

  • Seeking behaviour
  • Step out of your comfort zone
  • read excessively
  • Be selfish about money
  • Always be playing your cards
  • Always be looking great and feeling fresh
  • Stay in your eclecticism

Are you enjoying the things that you have or no?  I have been on a sustainable lifestyle for the past 3 years. That venture with Anoop chachu really pulled me down and I’m getting the feeling that I’m going to be pulled down again. Better to be out of the house and spend lesser hours in the house. Make sure to fuck off by 10-10:30. You also know that you have to maximise your speed and get comfortable with a progressive lifestyle. Waking up at 9 am doesn’t count. Waking up at 7 am would most probably count. That means fucking off to bed at 11 pm. 11-7 am is 8 hours of sleep. That too is too much comfort.

Winds of Change

Tonight’s conversations left me unperturbed. I foresee a change in relationships and values that are there. In a whiff of a few days, the entire perspective has changed. Div stopped me from saying anything to her and literally stopped me from saying anything. How can anyone cut me short of saying what I want to say. It seems that he is not comfortable with my presence in the relationship that he has with her. I wonder what it is but it is there, and an after-thought leaves me dry to utter anything except for longing for thoughts. My best friend as rumor has it, has shared his future life with the world except for me, and I long for companionship as per the norms of society.

In the midst of all this happening, I try to find myself and I know that I seek nothing but myself as that is the only thing that I control and relationships are not.

I foresee the happenings of my previous relationships with my college mates, something that never really came to fruition in the right sense, atleast with me. I seem to lose myself in relationships, the kind of upbringing my father taught me…to give yourself above the other person, because he or she is more important than you. That quality in me, left me dry longing for my own when everybody left me for nothing. I tell myself, that I will never leave myself dry for someone else, for someone else who I know I have no control over, but I tend to fall in the pit of despair and deep I go down the rabbit hole.

Its been 29 years of highs and lows and this is definitely a low point in the relationship. I have been quite unsuccessful in my relationships where other people have been involved. For some reason, they’re not what I thought they would turn out to be. My relationship with my work, my relationship with friends, theyre not at all how I envisioned they would turn out. Is it possible they arent turning out the way you thought they would because you havent’ turned out the way you envisioned yourself. By this time, I should’ve had a great bod, an contemporary style apartment in Mumbai and a dual career in the arts and sciences. Great going Vaibhav, it is you who hasn’t turned out the way you envisioned and relationships havent turned out the way you envisioned. It’s time to focus on you and your partner the most. These relationships are tumultuous !

Sense of Unpurpose

I feel a sense of unpurpose. All my friends and near and dear ones are working and grinding, but I’m not quite sure that is the way it should be. If they are working, but are they hustling. They’re doing the 9-5 hustle. And whether the 9-5 hustle is good enough for someone to sustain a living. Is that the correct way. Look at me, I haven’t a nickel to my name, I haven’t bought new shades in sometime, I haven’t bought a new phone in sometime, I haven’t the money to buy me a cheap tv or anything but I’m not doing the 9-5 hustle. Is the 9-5 hustle actually going to work for me. Im not so sure. I get involved in my work. I like that my work is an extension of who I am.What is that Im not quite sure yet. But I want to write and create. I can create through writing. So is writing a good option to create a living. I must give myself some goals on my writing. If I am to write and have a career change I must give myself a 5 year goal of doing so.

Obituary and Legacy thoughts

The spectrum of life comes to a halt because of an incomplete transaction that led to remorse and death from inside. Anti-establishment and pure minimalism streak, not much can be accomplished or built in this attitude as your thinking of a solitary reaper who’s bringing nothing but value upon himself and no one else. Selfish endeavors bring upon a change of action, a twist in faith. The past has been about building a structure that will surpass generations to come but now its about me-me-me. Whats it about all this that is to say about establishments, its a daft dream, an artifice.

End of the day, its about the Obituary statement – I, Vaibhav Nahar, pass away on the day of 2067 in peace. I am grateful for the people who have been with me through the ins and outs and especially my wife who has loved me for who I am, the best and the worst of me , and at all times. I am happy to pass away and take the steps to heaven forsaken knowing that I have accomplished my endeavor of writing my memoirs and my journals while being on this earth. I have been instrumental in giving birth to this great race and have passed away my time without raising a concern in the people who walk this earth that a subject of their creator is in their midst. My creator gave me the role of the writer and told me that I will lead the people through my words during my time. I have written glorious words when I have been alive and I hope that they stay alive for generations even after I am gone.

I have to understand how to save my words even after there is a complete wipe-out of this earth. Shall I transmit the words to space and some other planet so there is a seedling of remembrance even after we’re all gone. I’ll have to leave a trail behind so that one can trace them back again.

Legacy is more important than establishment. My legacy will survive even after I am dead for generations and generations.

Death of a Writer!

In the drafty night, an uncomfortable silence looms while everyone is snoring in their oblivion. A shadow emerges and the tip of the shadow’s outline is visible in the distance. As he creeps into the room, a coldness is felt. However, the spirits taken in the evening proved to be much more absorbing than the draft of icy wind. He mistook the draft for a mild sensation and waived it off in his drunken negligence. Before he could engross himself in his journal of poems, before he could get the nip of the pen to touch the writhing piece of paper, the sharp tip of the shadow swiftly thrusts into his back like cutting through a ripe watermelon. His first kill, so his movement was rustic, but it didn’t leave him unnerved as his grip was strong, as strong as his intentions to go ahead with the evening’s agenda. The deathly virgin puncture left a splatter of blood on the wall and droplets coming on the knife’s grip as he firmly holds it against his body, making sure that he ends his chapter tonight.

He usually goes in his frivolous yapping on paper with his favorite whisky, which now finds itself mixed with his blood. He held the glass tightly trying to fight through the pain but eventually gave in to the shock of it all and finally tipped the glass to the floor. Shattering the silence of the night with the breaking of the glass, it hardly raised any suspicion as the moon was high and the nip in the air made sure that people snuck in their blankets early.

He lived alone, the neighbourhood was alien like for the bachelor surrounded by ‘hum do humare do’ households. His presence was usually abhorred my the neighbours with his frequent gallivanting with young people visiting him in the late hours, his interest in drowning himself with cheap liquor now and then, his incessant consumption of cigarettes and a general unkempt way of living. A true bachelor way of living, but the years had caught on him and his bachelor life eventually transformed into a aloof-like lifestyle, developing a strong sense of individuality and independence rather than matching up with his hum do humare do compatriots. His life meant going to the university, enjoying a drink in the evening with his compadres, and when they used to leave for their kids and family, he would come back to his abode switch on the transistor, jump to his favorite channel, fix himself a drink and engross into a poetic self with a pen and a paper writing that classic piece of wisdom he felt would be his gift to his kin.

His task was done for the night, he gathers himself with his slicing tool and makes his way through the creaky door, he throws his shawl over his head making sure that no one can see his face and briskly makes his way through the nippy wintery night. The street light beaming yellow makes only visible traces of the blood splatter while the morning light waits for the blood bath to show itself and open a homicidal case in a sleepy neighbourhood which will change the neighbourhood forever.

The evening was anything out of the ordinary, he went about his daily routine. The morning started from the bathroom with the general ablutions of the day. He makes his own breakfast but usually frequents this parantha wala stall right outside when the day is supposed to be hectic and he needed to conserve his energy. Making breakfast was a tedious task but he got the hang of taking care of himself. The bai would come on her own time making sure that she misses him, deftly missing out on his household requests which she is capable of taking up being a soft hearted woman. She felt compassion for him but she didn’t want to be involved too much to raise eyebrows. Her husband didn’t approve of her working there but their family needed the money.

As he made his way to the university, he always felt a calmness before he enetered and a general whiff of reminiscence that he’s back to the old days when things were much more calmer and fun was a general way of life. It wiped off as soon as a student passed by with condescension in his eyes and it all came back to him. A time left 19 years ago and counting and its not going to come back for him. He should have just eloped abroad and sought a life different from being in the motherland of all Indians, because he isnt really appreciated here and neither he has gained anything from the land. Had he the spine to save rather than giving up on wordly possessions and fun, he may have had a better life to live which was enriching and comfortable. Now he is carrying books and going to vomit what he’s learned from lazy fucks who have vomited on the text books themselves and narrate a story around it to make them feel important about themselves. His general rounds in the hallways always got him back to his golden days in college but alas it was in the past.

Neville was fond of him and would be inquisitive about his subject of study and would generally have a good conversation with him.”Goodmorning Sir!”, Neville said.”Goodmorning. Neville, how can I help you?”, “Sir, I am trying to understand how we can structure the story around this topic, do you think you can sit with me for sometime?”