My little crush story

[On an insomniac night, between 6am and 7am, I decided to write a poem for my crush of the past (and present?). I even posted it on one of those confessions pages. It has quite a few clues here and there regarding her identity and several other things -- a few friends have deciphered the truth. Don't bother about the clues, though. Just enjoy the poem. :)]

A week into Autumn, the Stork took the First Train to your home.
He flew, precisely, a wonder times a wonder
No. of days more before he dropped me,
My town being 510 miles asunder

In IIT, you're a Friend,
Yet not a friend;
But of many friends,
You're a good friend.

Voldemort himself introduced us, remember?
A recent leap-and-hug day, it was.
He whispered to me, "Isn't she your crush, boy,
Ever since that wretched EE course? Don't lie!"

Our meetings very few,
And chats have been curt.
I'm kind-of afraid to approach
Lest my sharp tongue give you hurt.

Your delicate frame, I hope,
Enshrines an innocent Hindustan ka Dil!
Which I'd like to know and connect to; Alas!
Even as I leave, our disjoint lives play ill.

Often, in front of the Sun, I sip
The the grape-like chemical when I'm beat.
As my eyes use heuristics
To discover your seat.

A letter to my grown up self

[People write letters to their past self in an attempt to be more cautious and productive, to tell them to avoid certain mistakes. I'm writing a letter to my future self -- a justification for being a bum -- so that he may not put such crap to me.]

I wish to tell you, Mr. Saheel,
Before you call me names
What made me, your youth,
Available for your blames.

Desires galore yet I am
Humbled by sloth
I want you not to pity
"Your efforts were froth!"

I'll give no excuses
For time I lost
But lessons of life
Come at great cost

Games to play
And groups to spam
Books to read
And oh! Animes! Damn!

"Inconsequential drags, they are.
Don't you understand?!"
But they helped you reach the place
Where now you proudly stand.

I am not so perfect, Sir,
To grasp without mistakes
The wisdom that you flaunt
Came after several retakes

So let me flirt
Laugh less, more cry
So let me sin
Learn less, more try

Because once I'm you
There won't be time
And the immaturity
To commit crime

A visit to Tirupati

At the end of about 20 hours outside our dear (deer?) campus we, Flashing, Gajju, Surya, and I, hadn't run a marathon, or cycled tens of kilometres, or played hours of football, which we anyway don't. But still, we were dead tired -- our knee joints chirping, minds reeling, heels squealing. All we did was eat, sleep, sing, and stand. Yes, we stood. A lot. And while we stood we ate, slept, and sang.