HAZARON KHWAISHEIN AISI

Rhythm of Similes and Metaphors

2011-12-07T23:38:00.001+05:30

On thinking whileabout art and creativity, some how, I have this feeling today, that writing ismore tougher art to master that the other forms for painting and music. Though,I just love the trio together-the three instruments, music, words and colors. AndI guess, I am with the trio, while I share my thoughts. Why I make that claimis, for the simple reason that the writer does not have the other mediums apartfrom only black inked words, to stimulate the sensitivities. Essentially, sayto describe a setting, there are no colors that can be filled, no back groundmusic, to provide the metaphysical high. Even visually the image of the settinghas to be filled with only words to fill the void that lies in the ordinaryimage of this world. There is no quietness that can be provided to express themusic in silence that perhaps occupies every heart beat. There is not a smileof child in front to provide the joy of innocent ignorance and perhaps thelaughter to every heart in the world. There are no billowing cold winds to befelt on a silent morning. And often the oft described image of snow cappedmountain peaks reflecting the moon beam is buried too deep in the humanimagination to be brought forth, in one instant, in a silent moment ofreflection. And it is not easy to bring forth the craving for a tear in an otherwisequite day, and equally difficult to imbibe the pain of holding it back at itsrightful point.

But there is a simplepractice that one can perfect and still get away being the writer who, is perhapsborn indifferent to the deceit of this world. Well, to have the connection onethat strums the heart or burns it in flames of passion there is always a -setting,in may be black and white, or with all the playful colors of life in the floraand fauna. And there is an analogy; flora and fauna- just like two loversriding through the valleys, swimming across the blueness of oceans. With theirwings free spreading like open arms with a longing stretched over ages- to havethe void filled with the beauty of his starry universe. Say, the setting-itcould be the very basic like a heart-beat. One, which forever, is to bepreserved and yet is simply forgotten into obscurity; for, everything couldrest, come to a still, but to living, to keep going, every life has to have a rhythmof its pulse, for each moment that defines the very time of its presence. Andthere could be an analogy comprising one that of the last stream of that scarletof blood, freeing and liberating from the last heart beat. The analogy is notthe setting of blood running down, but that of a life parting itself from theonly thing that held it tight.

And a string of wordsjust need to swim deep into your choice of setting and across an analogy of a simileand a metaphor to describe the hidden irony of life. And maybe then words mighthelp hear some music or even hear the rhythm of heart-beats float like music throughdeep recesses of silence.

Project Pathos- 7

2011-11-30T19:54:00.001+05:30

For I know, you’vefound me,

And I know, your reason here
the wretchedness of grief finds me.
to me you come to bury your coldness
the apathy of wailing silence
to find joy from
death of your sorrows.

Will you be able tocarry my weight?

The weight of mydarkness

Would you have thecourage

To dive into me,without a thought

Without a desire

Knowing well what isin store

Is empty obscurity

Of humanness and thedivine

Living or the dead

But I will know, howto keep you alive

By demanding

And I shall demand,of every thing

That you have within

To keep you alive,

To keep you deadtravelling

To beyond

Without hope, withoutdesire

And I’ll speak toyou,

And I shall sense you

Hear thoughts by yoursmell

Let me tell you again

I hate the smell offear

Fear of the unknown

And the wise man will

Tell you the escapefrom me

Is from within yourfear

And wonder you shallabout the unknown

That is me and

You shall be free

And liberated from me

For I detest thefaltering steps

This tunnel shallseize

And you’ll have theblinding light,

Light all around

And I this your verydarkness

Shall part you,forever.

And remember I hadnothing to offer you.

But I was the otherside.

P.S: Darkness

Project Pathos-6

2011-09-19T14:24:00.003+05:30

Today, we travel into tomorrows night,
yesterday we had slept for todays dawn,

each day into this mist-laden horizon,

a dream is cherished, a memory foregone.

The First Funeral

2011-03-26T16:52:00.002+05:30

A strange subject to choose. And why would I choose it, I don’t know. Have just visited the first funeral, cremation of my life. May be that could be the reason?. May be, I am actually indifferent, trying to kill time, thinking about it. Coz, in all aspect, I don’t really think, I knew this man. He was to me, I guess an elderly gentleman at office, that’s what I would think of him. An acquaintance, so to say, who, I believe, was never selfish with me, rather, quite mannered and I know, with kind wellbeing at heart. Not that this is to create melodrama about it. But I guess, it was at his funeral pyre, when people who knew him, look at him in hindsight, every one sounded quite genuine, about his good nature.

Well, to get on with business, this gentleman was a colleague, in his 45’s I suppose, who would I guess, go out with a cup of tea in this hand, with no qualms whatsoever approach a new guy, exchange niceties and have introductions exchanged, and then get on to do doing his job. And every one admitted till date, that he was diligent like none other and may be a little too much. And I guess, he served our organization for more than 15 or may be more years. Leading a very disciplined life, both professional and personal.
As for mine and his exchanges, mostly I remember, me and my colleague returning after smoking, through the corridors, and he would meet us and without fail, smile and frequently tell us to quit smoking. At the lunch table, everyone would pull his legs, coz of his discipline, chastity, regularity, abstinence from all the vices of smoking, drinking and non-vegetarianism all through his life- till date. And he would smile and smile, and occasionally try to fight back. But never I found him loose his soft spoken composure.
It was today, I came to know, from the fellow colleague, who since his last two years of stint in Mumbai, has being coming along with his sir , Dhaval Bhai. Regularly, he would pick him up from their fixed meeting point and drive down to office. So, I was told, Dhaval bhai, would carry Parle G packets, or may be something else, and at signals, give it out to children. Once in a while, he would carry little fodder and feed the calves near the turning of his building.
As for leading a personal life, it was only today that I was told that his schedule included, getting up early morning 5 o clock, do yoga and meditation. For 10 days in a year, he would go to Mount Abu and attend some meditation course. In today’s day, many of my age might be tempted to mock at it, but in my opinion he considered this as a part of his disciplined life, as if with complete confidence in right things to do.
Well, to me, it all today seemed like a listening to stories of Parsi Bawaji in hay days of Mumbai, who are fanatically regular about the morning tea and bun and the news paper and firm believers in a decorm and order of life. Almost, picture perfect.
Well, Dhaval bhai, died in his sleep in the morning. It was a heart stroke, he didn’t cry, and there was no one around him in his final moment. He had attended, a conference call yesterday till 7, went home, had dinner and went to sleep. He was not found awake till morning 7-8 , till his brother a little concerned with the irregularity, went to his room and found him at rest- forever.

They declared it was stress related heart failure.
By the way, I didn’t mention, he was never married and had chosen to stay bachelor. Sometimes, at his bachelor hood, people would pull his leg , in off course good humor at lunch table. His parents had expired long back. He was not survived by any immediate family , just three brothers. It felt quite sad, that he actually didn’t have many people around him, one might say thats “good” in a way that one would not have to be burdened with worries about family. But I guess, dying alone with no one at funeral , seemed a little sad also.
For his term in company he had many good stalwarts. One person, on his retirement age, who sits next to him, our favorite Parsi sir, stood tall, in his French beard, a little stooped, and I remember him telling out, “ Brilliant death for a wrong age” . By the time, the cremation stopped, I was pretty much silenced by the cremation of a body with such strong flame going to ashes. Then our sir said, “ Chalo, its all over”.
It was quite shocking news in the morning when I had entered office. Within 12 hours I suppose, one person , an identity just went to oblivion- whatever one might call it, dust to dust , ashes to ashes, but in the end just evaporated.
As for me, I just wrote it coz I felt like writing it. Life and death are always mystifying, will remain so, as long as we are human.
P.S : Pray he rests in peace.

Project Pathos -5

2011-03-13T14:27:00.002+05:30

Time, I have been with you
This long and so much less
To build upon a life
Full of lies

And I have walked the road
All alone and with a few
For a long journey
to an end where it all dies

Music, I have tried to write
A sweet note, a small rhyme
For a song
I could keep on your shrine

Love, I have tried to gain
Into sadness of your eyes
For the reflection
Of dreams which beguiled.

P.S: Gist.

Project Pathos- 4

2011-03-13T14:08:00.000+05:30

On these streets I have traversed many times,
Behind the corridors the days were spent yawning
Waiting for the weekend evening to dawn

Now the years have flipped by
And moments have stretched, grown old
It’s something to do with memories, so, now I am told

There was moment, across the road,
A coffee corner, where the youth used to stroll,
Now it s busy corner, fancy cars parked for fancy grocery store

From few miles ahead, you can smell the sea
Hear her roar,
it is still the same and better than the musk, I am asked to adore

Further ahead, the minarets stand over the islet
Isolated from the crowd of land, peaceful abode in the sea
By its side, its now crowded
I can hear over the voice of ocean,
the lovers, the old, gossiping, whispering, talking loud
and here and there a few lost in thoughts, I am sure
wondering of times that used to be.

PS: Haji Ali

Project Pathos- 3

2011-03-13T14:01:00.000+05:30

Reasons to these songs,
Words of hope, deep despair
Standing in the midst of clouds
Trails of dancing threads

Touch me at heart
With Pieces of broken glass
Something for me, something sweet heart
The shining glitter, something to last

Reasons to these times,
Colors of red, bows and arrows
Racing purpose into the dark
masking the deepening sorrows

Touch my mind
With twigs of feathers
Sweet dreams, sweet dreams sweet heart
Slip the whiskey, pour this night to my jaded jar

Reasons for my substance
Colors of blue,
Swim into the air to the crimson hue
Waking up to a child’s curious glance

Seep into my heart
With some flowery thoughts
Sweet hunger, just raise my pain
Let me hear the whispers of dreams
Sleepless or sleeping or may be just slain.

PS: Images.

Project Pathos- 2

2011-03-13T14:00:00.001+05:30

Do you feel liberated
Burning free yet again
Tell me honey in this night
How do you taste the salt in the rain

Tell me how does it feel
Does it feel the same
Oh baby in the shadows
Can you see the names written on sand

Oh can you hear
Hear the sound shrieking out so so loud
The sun light
Trying to breach, breach this mist to touch
Only to touch your sweet hands.

Oh did I tell you
I had no one to blame
I had no one to blame

PS: Eternal Sunshine.

Project Pathos - 1

2011-03-13T13:41:00.002+05:30

Dance so I think
Let s dance, but to whom,
Should I link
Is it you tonight,
Or my joy for losing you

Hear the guitar playing
In to the thundering skies
Soft Swing to the flute
Playing into these,
These glittering eyes.

Seducing to this morning
As the dawn embraces the cold night
Sound rising with a gentle touché
on the piano scales
the lasting sweetness of lips
it Holds the moment tight.

A moment is passing
Don’t dare leave me darling
Breeze is flowing wild,
Into the silence,
Rambling waterfall of memories
Into this dark night.

P.S: Dusk and the deep willows.

Requiem

2010-04-04T00:55:00.004+05:30

Into the skies a dimension opens wide
The rising of the night sky
Into the darkness,
Shines a million eyes

Under this time,
We walk alone,
Into this cold
As the mist tears to fall and fly

Into this wild the whispers cry
Into this stillness silence flies
Into our corners,
You and I

Look over Our crimes

Last flight of music

2009-09-05T14:01:00.002+05:30

The day he sat. Wondering about life. In such simple terms an understatement unknown to him as he mingled in the crowd of reasons. And of music that was mesmerized both with romance and sustaining dreams sinking into horizon of reality and desire.

It was a crazy night.

It was a crazy night. She told me, she would call up. I have been waiting now, for like ages. Trying to keep my anxiety and anger at bay. Once you let excitement and fear creep in, they just take the grip of your life, in an unusual, choking way. Making you insecure and afraid and always on the toe with the thoughts and imagination preoccupied with worries. We live in that sort of the world. So I am trying my best to keep the other wise dark curious thoughts about time at safe distance. It’s a pace, I cannot keep up with, and I wish it would stay still. But, I know, it has a slithering speed.

There is an occasional burst of over excited questions, which spring up in the head. Just the like sudden rise and rustling of the curtains as the wind unexpectedly makes its way into the room.

“We are floating like winds”, he had said. Remembering those words brings smile to my face. It was a cold and chilling night. When I look back at it now, I guess death circled that night making wheezing sounds through the rustling leaves and the cracks of the old decrepit wooden door. The door, that emptiness of the room, the silence temporarily for a short while enveloped us together. It is probably the context of the situation, that immortalizes the words, the scene. We can’t remember the faces but the memory remains imbued in its gray shade.

Well how good are the memories there worth. Just a notion of what is past. A whimsical figment of imagination that remains imbued into time. Like trail of life’s presence, to define the course of journey and the abstractness of time. Like a face, chasing its form into a mirror. Existing for no other reason but only to define value attached to the worth of a moment.

But there has to be plot in the theater. And there has to be silence in the words. Even the winds and the oceans and the dreams shall gently come to rest. And the motion shall seize to exist into pristine purity of silence and darkness. In perfect stillness and in peace the earth shall stand. For one moment, desire shall gasp a lonely wish and the moment shall sink into the past.

And he wrote a few notes, words sneaking to the underbelly of seduction. One towards death.

Two men and a movie

2009-07-17T10:20:00.000+05:30

Movie about a real life scenario.

A: That’s really some art.

B:What?

A: Its an art to portray a life in such crafted manner. I say, nice movie, great talent.

B: Hmm. I see. Yup, great movie.

A: Don’t you think it’s a talent to make such a movie. Don’t you think, that it’s a skillful art.

B: I guess, that’s too much into it. It’s a nice plot, good acting, and innovative technicalities, refined nitty-gritty, formed into a nice movie.

A: Ok. What do all these people feel when the watch movie, some cry, some laugh, some even find inspiration, or dejection, some form opinions, dialogue on counter opinions. Isn’t it an art to stir a soul..if there is something within you, to stimulate ones senses.

B: yeah dude, that’s some talent. Brilliant skills. Ha!

A: Why is it that movies, music disturbs emotions or sensitizes a person. Isn’t that in a movie theater one discovers more human emotions than in reality ?. Is it that in isolation and darkness, one accepts the emotions which otherwise one is cautious about.

B: Whats up man?. Well, That’s the magic of movies and music.

A: You sound so cold, as though, you mean nothing changes in the world with such forms of creativity and dialogue, no inspiration to be taken from movies, no stories, no idols, no music…as though all that is a waste?

B: Its only magic dude, all this is a magic, it sounds like that , it feel s like magic, but those inspiration, desires and those heightened sensations ..that’s all temporary, fickle and impermanent ...a phase…and thee moral of the story: That’s all entertainment. And it too is an industry. So what’s food for thought for few, is bread-butter some and Of course, glamour, glitterati, and fame for others, some one like me. That’s the irony.

2009-07-01T21:06:00.000+05:30

Whisper, into my ears

words of despair

tale of a parting lover

holding broken strands

stitching moments together

left for time to repair

my girl, its not a love song

he just told me, he doesn't care

my girl, its been long

long enough to feel you near

sing to me, touch my heart,

I don't remember, but a secret wish

to go cold, with a bleeding scar

they are for a reason,

he told me,

like lingering past,

Another sweet memory

my girl, just hold on

he told me, hes scared

my girl, he ain't coming along

letters on the floor now fly bare

Feather

2009-05-27T14:41:00.003+05:30

So I set my imagination fly,
instructing left brain be free and high,
let the clouds burst wide open
And a feather float from the sky,
doesn't matter even if it takes a nose dive.

Swim for a moment in the stillness,
over this cold empty thin air.
Laugh and wish for those
who couldn't be here
fleeting colors in the crystal maze
like smiling moments in a heart ache.

let it sing through mist and hue,
for caressing cold breeze bathing you.
under silent starry night
float behind a longing stretched,
till the never ending deserted road
dance for a while in your fizzling tender mold

let it fly with your secrets,
a veiled beauty behind the fog.
to unknown prayer, before the flickering flame,
trying to rise above gravity,
for heart felt song.

Can you feel the pricking velveteen,
of the souls skin,
bordering the unconscious realms.
As the feather dips,
tracing beads over these strings
and smears itself into blue ink.

P.S Laying there in the bottle
into the soft stillness of the night
flying it drops
as lofty imagination sets to write.

A bizzare trail.Hmm.Maybe tale.

2009-04-16T12:00:00.000+05:30

One late night, I was at the my seniors dorm room. Known as one of the most stingy rooms, with papers, books, wires, gadgets, shoes and toothpaste resting on floor. While, he was on one side of the cot, resting by his guitar. I was on the chair and in front of me, some how squeezed amongst the papers, pens, books, table lamp, speakers rested his laptop. The room was dimly lit and I was there listening to Pink Floyd blaring from the tape. So I clicked Ctrl-Alt-Delete and the screen prompted me the password. The slight beep, slightly awakened him and casually brought him to realization of another living presence in the room, apart from the cock roaches and lizards.

Me: “ What s the password? “.

He smiled and said, “ I’ll give you three clues. Take a guess.”

For a while I thought, rascals so freaky even in his sleep.

Him: “ It’s the first name of Indian Actress.”

( Pause )

Him: “ The world runs on it. “

( Pause )

Me: “ Hope ? “

He smiled.

I guess I was brilliant then. One of those moments when my self-esteem rocketed sky-high. And I must say, the trivia, that dimly lit night and the answer, has remained with me for a long time now, literally, like a haunting Blues Nightmare. The answer was right, but deep down still sounded incomplete.

So me and a close friend, one day harped on another concept while on our frivolous chatting sessions on net.

Me: “ Tell me what runs the world. “

( typing a reply )

Him: “ Hunger”

Me; “ Precisely”

Then again there was one destined evening, I was walking with a beautiful chick ( who I knew was going around with my friend). So there was cool breeze blowing and it was a wee bit romantic atmosphere and we were taking a brisk stroll.

As usual, I went ashtray with winds and started with my series of serious inquisitiviness for stupid questions and I went ahead asked her, as a matter of fact, “ Tell me, just like that, what do you think runs the world.”

She: Love.

Me: Don’t you think it’s a bit shallow. I thought it was hope and hunger.

She: Is it shallow?. I thought a lot got written and sung all to dig deeper into it. And in a broader sense there are many kinds of it and in some ways, I think Love constitutes both- hope and hunger.

Me: Yeah. May be. ( reflecting now, I think, women have this talent, of shaking up your confidence and an sweeping self confidence to silence any argument.)

Or, May be, sometimes I think, I could have missed out the story that could lie behind her eyes and her experience.

Then the other day, I was this little kid. We were sitting in a garden. She fiddling with some book and me watching over her shoulder. During our conversation, I asked her

Me: “ Okay, kiddo. Tell me what runs the world?”

She, looked at me puzzlingly, then contemplatively into her thoughts and I wondered about curiosity taking shape.

She: “ I don’t know. You tell.”

Me: “ Common. Take a guess “ ( half expecting reply of some silly science)

She: God, may be.

( Sighs. Kid?!. Silence).

So I glanced on the road side. There was this, old man, in soiled Dhoti and Kurta and by his side his wife, wrinkled and wearied. Both sat on the mat laid on the ground, squatted next to mud flower pots, statutes and other artifacts lined for sale. As the old man sat there relishing his bidi, I wondered the things that would be on his mind. May be he was not relishing his smoke, may be he was just smoking away his own worries of a daily wage, children’s future, away into the air. By him stood a carved beautiful statue of goddess. I must say he would have made efforts to make those elegant curves. Some would see hope, some an idol. For him it was something to fetch his living. I thought ah! Perceptions like statues of clay. May be god dwelled in faith itself and that’s why perhaps he asks faith out of us. So go not to house of lord, go to the house of faith, and you shall find God.

Alas, it kept coming back. As I said, the question remained like a blues nightmare, crawling into daily chores, every now and then. And one, day I was talking to this close colleague of mine. He’s sort of sporty, go-getter guy, straight out of his masters in business administration. Although I can say, a friendly guy to get along with.

During a casual chat, I asked him, “ Dude, what do you thing runs this world?”

He glanced up from the worksheet and starred at me and like empathizing with me, smilingly said,

“ Passion, Goal and for us most importantly- Targets.” ( Broad Smile)

( Silence)

Him: What?

Me ( with my smile): No. I was expecting you’d say, Petrol.

( Silence. Laughter)

Him: And in an election year, the words Power, bro. If you know, what it means.

( Long Silence)

Him laughingly: Am I missing something here?

Me: No, I was just thinking what happened to those three- Beauty, Dream and Desire!.

( Silence )

Him: Well I guess, they went out to find, ooh la la, Miss. Happiness, who used to sit beside, but I now hear, they rest in acquaintance with Mr. Sad.

And he winked at me. ( Laughter).

Brilliant I thought.

But I can tell you, the most close I came to finding the answer was with this guy I know. One, who’d be practically having zero emotional quotient and a superb IQ.

So on net, I quipped with him: “ Tell me man, what runs the world?”

Him: “What man!! . That’s an easy question man.”
Him: TESTOSTERONE

( Mad laughter on both sides )

And I thought, very close. Almost right.

Me: “ But wouldn’t that be under the subset of Love, Lust and Hunger”.

Him: “ Don’t disappoint me man. Every thing boils down to procreation. Its how civilizations survive. “

Me: Yeah. Very true. I had forgot about you. You dog!.

Him: That I am!.

For long I thought, may be that was right. Procreation. Essentially giving life to run the world. But not all sperms survive. Not all species make it. We are just superior to a few. Scientifically speaking. And some say, sex is over-rated.

And then the other evening I stood with this another guy chewing bubble gum and smoking cigrattes, standing at the bus stop. I told him this long trail for a silly answer.

Me; “ Yaar, what do you think ? “

Him: “ What ?”

Me: “ I mean you, know, What runs the world ? “

( Intense stare with a smile)

Him: “ Dude you are asking the wrong question!. Essentially, what do you do when the worlds running? “

Me: “ What ? “

Him: “ Run. We got to board this bus. “

( Laughter )

Him: I was thinking, you know.

Me: What?

Him:You don’t have to be worried. Even that bastard, Mr. Sad, managed, something best out of this world in those three.

Him: Beauty, Dream and Desire!

(Silence. Laughter)

Me: May be. And now the question is where the hells Miss Happiness?

( Laughter)

Him: At home, with Innocence and Ignorance, while Mr. Money is out on the streets sweating out.

(Silence)

Me: And what happened to Peace?

Him: Ah-ha, well, well…well… she’s sleeping with her Knowledge.

Me irritably: “ You’ve any idea what my question was ? “

Him: “ Look man essentially what you tell me, a lot of is a Fact. And as for the world, as the Gita says, its all an illusion.”

Me: “ Oh yeah, Fiction! “

Him: “ Yeah, a few Facts and Fictions”

( Silence )

And he gave his characteristic so true, Mad Laughter, for our mutually understood utter stupidities.

So, we both looked outside the bus window. For I guess completely a minute.

He turned, half looking at me and half looking outside the window, down at the people on the streets: “ And in case now, you’d be wondering what’s that distinguishes between fact and fiction, let me help you-Welcome to Reality”.

( Silence)

Him ( Chewing gum, chewing, chewing): Look man. Ah-hm. Life is simply like the good beautiful fiction, the bad part is we got to live with reality and we got to live with some ugly facts.

(Silence)

(Laughter. Mad Laughter.)

( A bizarre trail. Hm. May be tale )

Whispers: Life ?

Distant Whispers: “ Wake up. Tea.”

(Wife with a cup and saucer )

Of 2008 and 2009.

2009-04-14T10:58:00.000+05:30

Every one on blogosphere , or even in this sphere of life, holds a desire to talk about the year that was. Well, I think I am no different. And when it comes to it , it is scary. For if I go back into the reflection of the year that went by, I wonder, it went by, and yet again with so much, that its difficult to put it in words. Well, may be it happens with every one, and each one feels or carries something good, bad, happy or sad, from one year to the other. In some way or the other it is special. But I guess, there are only a few in your lives, where in, you just don’t know what hit you. And you silently, or daringly, or lovingly, embrace the wind of change. And if you are some blues kind, perhaps, you can look into the future, not with any certainty, but with smile, and feel precisely the drift. Sometimes, with smile, sometimes, with momentary love for the past, sometimes, just like that, for a dream.

As for the moments that went by, for me. Hmm. Well, amazing. From the stand alone point of view, perhaps, I can only share, that what I have witnessed is nothing but meeting some destined fate. I am not the kind, who ever believed in it – fate and destiny and all that. Not that I have ever taken an extreme position against these words, in fact, I have never taken any extreme position. Still, in one way, I feel, sometimes, you get a knock on your head, and if you can add up the coincidences of events around you, one can feel, that the existence of hidden mystery that life is, sometimes sneaks at you teasingly. And at times it is difficult to distinguish between the smirk and a smile. You know to shy away and walk further ahead. For a while, I remained agape, for a while, I knew, that something is in store for each one. And that something, would come to you, one way or the other. Its just a matter of time. But the waiting is worth it, I guess. It is not often but I guess, some times, in waiting, lies the only hope; hope for the best things in life. Hope for things to fall in their places And may be all you need to do is flow in the stream and take care, not to topple over.

And of the year that passed by , I got married. To share about it, I can say it’s a big event in life. One, that comes with a pleasure and bewilderment for the change in atmosphere both outside and inside. Something that happens with any new change, first day at school, first time at college, first day at work and then for a while an era collapses on ,day of marriage and another journey begins. One in which new hopes are born, new dreams are sewed and hordes of castles are built in the mind (which itself feels to be in air). Lots of things happen for the first times and I will share only that, time passes like a ride on the magic carpet, all you need to be free and floating and in the right spirits.

Then there was my ( our ) glorious moment. For a long time, I had been thinking of going to the mountains. Many times, I rolled my plans but they all rolled off track into the abyss. But in this year, they trekked upwards till some 18000 ft. And in a way they elevated some confidence in having high hopes.

Gurudongmar Lake@17,000 ft - Yea !!

And then some how on my way, I stumbled upon this point.

On enquiry the significance of the point, the locals gave me varied interpretation:
Zero point is essentially zero point. Essentially a dead end.
Its a point, where the road ends. The adventure begins.

P.S : For those, in new dimensions of life and in year of great recession. Best of luck!. Best of hopes!. Whatever. Keep walking.

Swirling Red Wine

2008-12-30T11:00:00.000+05:30

So I see into the depth of her eyes,

Like many of us lonely

seeking answers from time

And I sink deeper in the red of your wine

Standing far from you and still

drowning into the core of your darkness

for little joys and heavy pains

I desire the nakedness of your soul

Hidden truth of a bleeding heart, I harness.

Oh, many a lives play their silly cards

Betrayals, guilt and mystic true love

Unfound, still forever lasts,

Destiny smiles, as you slip the touch

One of hidden desires

you tried to hold so hard

Cup of Memories fills with moments

which you live and left behind, so far,

mingled with shine,

flowing from your eyes,

ones which moistened and

deserted forever,

the softness of lips parched,

heaving for burning moments which

died, unfinished, left ajar.

Till one night...

2008-12-15T18:18:00.000+05:30

Its perfectly silent today, inside the room. The monsoon is somber and melancholy. But its different. The winds are blowing out and the crows are croaking far into the drenched trees. But inside the room, its only the sound of wheezing wind and its moist coldness over the skin. Pricking coldness and lovely sound of wind and me.

I am as sane as I’ve been of late. With not much drunken heaviness on my head, though there is a strong desperation for a smoke. Growing stronger by the minute. The eyelids are feeling light, not swollen and heavy, after a long time. Lighting up a cigarette in this wind, under the dark clouds, into its stillness, but I am resisting it. Knowing fully well, that I’ll give into the strong urge, sooner. Just that I am thinking about the perfect silent place where I can soak into my cigarette. Go to some place, smoke and some how think about this silence and stay in it. If nothing, just stare into its emptiness and stay in it.

What I remember of recently is the last weekend. It was sort of a little celebration for the new apartment into which three of the friends had moved in. Usually, whenever I’ve entered into their place there is this music. Not this time. I was told it was by the sea-side with a sea view from the balcony. Escorted by and behind Haria, I walk to the balcony, it was a dark evening and I could not see any sea. It was pitch dark to see anything but the road lit with street-light and the slums that line the beach side with the black tarpaulin.but I could hear her. For a second it felt I could hear her scream for me, but I could not figure out, was it angry, brooding, gloomy, or just as powerful as the amazon.

Soon we were stretching ourselves on the couch and started drinking. That’s usual, we drink when we meet. And we drink heavy when we all meet up. Mostly we drink, till the bottles are emptied. Then we smoke cigarettes. We smoke them all the time. Till the cigarette packets are emptied. Then some one drives into the night. Gets another bottle of whiskey and few packets of cigarettes. This night was no different I remember.

I guess there was a little difference that I can recollect now. It was mostly silent that night. Usually we play music in the back ground and we drink and we smoke. Soon the music gets louder. Sometimes it turns to a noise. Noise to cut us off from the thinking. Sometimes the music is noise to take us away into thoughts far away from the frustrating week long life of servitude, of boredom. Week long days where in we try to somehow contain the restlessness and manage to keep the spirits at some reasonable level. But into this night we had all decided not to play music right up our ears. It was played into a different room , with a soft number, just barely audible to hear and we started talking.

Every one could sense Chandra’s mood. His bearded face was unflinching clear about his frustration and angst with routine life. For reasons that he tells us he doesn’t know. For reasons I think he knows and each one in the room could feels. The answers he knows but chooses denial. We start talking. We talk gibberish. Things which are of little value to build a prosperous life. We talk shit, so I feel. But anyways, we light up cigarettes, fill whiskey into the plastic glasses, and we talk shit. We try to remember the good old college days, spent at the cemented platform under the tree. Comparing our present life to the college days. Remembering how each one enjoyed the aimless life that we led. As we speak of college into the subconscious we try to recollect and compare our school days to our college days. In school, when we all had purpose, single minded effort to a goal called college. When the world was limited to your goal and your success and the struggle to success. When we were in school we thought we were brilliant and consciously tried to enhance our efforts in direction of our goals. When we wanted to prove more. The energy levels were high. And compare college days where we effortlessly lost the identity earned in school days. Where in we appreciated the world around and remained agape with the diversity that lay in front. When we first started to cherish smoking, drinking, getting high on soft drugs and adventured with our lives. Never realizing about what lay in future. And now we reflect back up all of it and remember them and talk about it and ask questions. Irrelevant questions.

We talk shit. A lot of crap. And gulp all the drinks we have. Trying to ridicule the world or appreciate its diversity. Still trying to define the meaning of the word success. Only that now it is different. Its simply unclear. The desires, the needs and the wants. Desire for calmness inside ourselves, desire for dreams, desires for sexual cravings, desire for money, desire for happiness.

Then Haria spoke, “ There are no answers to such musings, that life”. He speaks it with so much ease that its puts to rest all the discussions. Sinking in the very feeling that its another of those aimless conversations and fruitless discussions about past, present, future and useless sentiments.

After exhaustion from all this talking, we just walked into the balcony. Drunk and exhausted we sit on the hairs, on the pavement. And stare into dark night. Over the road. Far away where the sea roars. Ambrishh tells me to watch the sea in the morning-it looks beautiful, as if he wants to see its vastness in that particular dark night and may be he could still see it into this eyes. We all lay there silently, occasionally talking something. Enquiring about friends. Ambrishh asks, “ How’s Pandey doing”. I tell him “ nothing much, haven’t spoken to him in couple of days”. The conversation ends. Then the silence dawns. We talk about how much none of us wants to go to work in the morning. Then the silence dawns again.

I do not know what they were thinking. I lay there and listen to roaring sea. The wind blows through the trees making wheezing sounds. The curtains blowing into the air, rising, rumbling. Its feels cold over the skin. Cold and silent. There is this amazing balance in the nature. The howling sea it tears apart the silence of the night, yet silence and coldness prevail. Like two opposites in perfect harmony and respect for each others might. Like silence whispers the strength of void clear to the winds. Like darkness breaths on the face of the light, silently proclaiming its omnipresence in the universe.
And we remain spectators.

It feels similar today. The wind roars, the silence of solitude prevails. There is this gentle feeling of depression that takes over. The pulse feels lower than usual. But I ‘ve started to enjoy it that way. I realize I like these useless conversations. I realize I enjoy this aimless drifting. I enjoy these cold howling winds in the monsoons. I like that balcony. I like the company of friends. I like us sitting around that center table, with plastic glasses, empty bottles, morsels of food, and the useless discussion. And I know, time will change, someday the table top will no longer be cluttered, but may be with a vase sitting on squeaky clean glass pane. And may be someday we would be standing behind glass window and pull the strings to open the Venetian blinds, look outside and want to walk away and escape into the night- reflecting.

Sometime I think, we all at our ages, realize, we all keep drifting away, leaving so much behind. Into our own choices. Into our individual destinies. Unconsciously, drifting like these winds, these times. Till one night…

P.S: Reflections in the blues tempo.

Into a night

2008-09-28T02:47:00.000+05:30

She walks around the place,
Opening her heart and her hairs,
Cute little baby
I have seen grown
Into a raunchy girl
And a pretty stone.

Thanks for the night
Turning cold and quite
Into it when I went,
Speaking to the curls of smoke you vent
Oh dear if it could heal
The heart,
But a helpless clown
I go down.

As you stand over me
I can see into lifes eternity
So they go away,
Careless streams seeping into the hay

And I hope you won’t swing tonight
Closing the windows to the morning light
With the flicker of fire
Into the blue of your eyes,

I could swim,
Into the coldness
Of these lights going dim

For now its time,
When I can see
You before me
And I can feel all that’s into the dark
With no reason to see it all
For I have it racing into my heart

Into flowing flute,
I reason for voices going mute

2008-09-01T14:09:00.001+05:30

The peacock it sung,

Over the borders of mud terrace

Droplets fell blooming and falling

Leaving the streams over tender face

Bees flew fluttering little feathers

Into the winds the buzzing little hearts hung

Droplets fell blooming and falling

trembling streaks over tender face

Chimes from the temple

So distant and faraway

Come whisking to this night like

Like dawn stretching out in her own little ways

Awaken to this light,

Some one sang to me, awaken into the night

For what you see,

awaken to tenderness, of the naked sight, she said

Awaken to the sizzling bubbles that lie before thee

Little Search

2008-07-10T12:31:00.000+05:30

Searching for a subject
A muse for my study
Searching for the shade
A place where I could be

Searching for sweet desire
For my love to rest
Searching for the fall
spirit breaking to seas test

Searching for the touch
Flowing feathers to ride me free
Searching for the torchlight
Into the distance, something to see

Searching for the air
In this chamber of smoke
Searching for the words
To loosen the choke

Searching for the friends
His shoulder and an ear
Searching for the laughter
Into the bubbles of her tears

Searching for the autumn leaves
Lonely between pages
Searching for the memories
Somewhere between these ages.

Searching and crawling,
I saw you towards the sea
for the long journey within,
To quench the life into thee.

With nothing better to do...

2008-06-24T14:09:00.000+05:30

So yes, it s been quite some time since I last felt the keys on the finger. And what brings me back tonight, as I was telling a friend today, is nothing but the passionate spirit of Orhan Phamuk to unflinchingly decipher his mind in his writings. I have been through two to three of pages of his book and I am impressed, as often is the case with any good book I ‘ve read. Though I have not read many. Perhaps when you embrace the things or images, you have an hidden affection for, you get engulfed in its beauty too soon. But its blissful to be tucked under a blanket, take a book, under the golden hue of the bed lamp and read life and essay of a person who has vociferously made effort to only find meaning of life words.

And if I were to take a leaf out of this book ( Other Colors ), I must ask myself today the question why I took of blogging. Was it egotism?. Did I consider it merely as keeping a diary? Did I have the desire to be literary scholar?. Was it vanity ? . Was it too be famous?. Well, but I do not have the patience to answer those. May be it was all of it. But I am interested in recollecting how it all began.

It began much later than the time blogging was on the internet. As usual, I was late on the horizon. It began with just simply opening an blogger account. I suppose for an year I had no idea what “ blogging” meant or was supposed to be meaning. I still don’t. They say its online journalism, it doesn’t seems that way to me at least. But any ways I went on pushing the top left bar button and reading whatever a turned page brought to life. Somehow I guess that’s the way it has been with my life. Thats how stupid and exciting it can get. What I found page after page, were poems, news items, more than asked for- technical blogs, photo-blogs, greek blogs. So I concluded a blog is like a resting place for all the wondering thoughts flying in the air. A free space where every one was welcome, with a private blue room, or a conference room, or a money minting web page, with no questions asked. And I loved the subtle way in which freedom of expression was put forth right up to you. A blank canvass and Darsheel paint whatever you want to. I was in love with the idea. Believe me you have no idea that it could be such an incredibly difficult, Herculean task to decorate the graciously gifted private space. Just like most things in life, easier said than done. Compete and prove is the motto. I think one could generalize that to life. But, I suppose, life would be much beautiful, if each was endowed with the courage, strength to explore the depth of oneself and paint and actually sing a song with a band-unaware and unconscious to the prickling eyes over you. Anyhow, I started writing about whatever I could brew up in warmth of solitude or in the discomfort of workplace. And if there was a motif behind it, it was only that I held this romantic notion that some where down the line I will read my thoughts. With a hope that someday, I would walk down the boulevard of memories this life eventually turns to. And trace the journey my opinions and dreams took, and the course my life traced. Of course, I am yet to find the answer for it, though to confess, I submit to temptation of reflecting back in nostalgia and I have noticed incredible shifts over few years. I am getting worse and increasingly dissatisfied with myself to some kind of helpless inability. But that apart, again there is a reason, during this phase of innocuous act of discovering creativity, sometimes I got inspired with R.K Laxman s humor with silliest cartoons burdening with subtle message. I read few collections by Behram Contractor. I got inspired by the brooding but meticulously crafted grief of human emotions by Anton Chekov and the gut wrenching wit of Mark Twain, to name a few (rather too few to mention) and all such masters in their individual right or might, whatever. I got inspired so highly as to sin vanity, plagiarism and dare to be motivated as to day dream about writing and express my self as crisply as these masters could. Also, to mention over this blogosphere, I found many talented and incredibly young people, whose thoughts otherwise I would have not come across, and they inspired me as much as any unsung hero with whom my empathies lie.

Given my limited ability to understand things in true and factual sense, I concluded that be it expression in any form of art, music, writing, poetry, requires practice as close to be termed as devotion and sadly as profession. And I have understood I am good at neither of the two.

And having confessed that, I must say, I feel better. And thinking of all this, I remain just amazed as to how much all this prose has effected my brain. The lasting impression which all these liberated spirits have left on me is to seek an originality of one self. Probably, it’s the second most toughest task after the struggle to earn ones bread. And perhaps, these Of the many lessons from there work is that, may be all of these artists found their original self by being true to themselves. I suppose they went through both misery and joy of life like everyone, but all along they silently collected the residue from this churning life. They did not sell there conscious, they just ceased betraying it any further. And tactfully unburdened all the grief or joy and brought out the varied confection of the words, colors, notes, music and sensitized and tickled all these subdued elements that make a human.

And these are great men. I mean, nobody’s mom s gone tell her kids to be Rudyard Kipling or Ruskin Bond, or any thing like that, but that doesn’t mean these men weren’t great. They have become people whom the society loves to adore but dare not to dream of becoming one. There’s just a wonderful different crazy wonderland, better left alone in a nice little corner of imagination. But I love the work these great people achieved, which could just excite the dormant senses. The task of tickling with human emotions and to make you feel like one.

Adieu to a loner

2008-05-23T14:46:00.000+05:30

Today, I sit here. Waiting for a part to be sealed. Holding on the anxiety and the nervousness of bidding a part good bye. I do not know, if we meet again. May be some where long down the road, I shall meet my friend for one more time. Till then, as I see today, it would be late. Not that I have regrets for not keeping it with me. Not that I hate it, not that I have remorse for it. Nothing of that sort, rather it’s the strongest sense of silent unspoken understanding with it. A silent acceptance of a loner within. People might hate that, but I love it the most. More than any thing and any one in the world. It is something that has made me real, far beyond the relation of flesh and blood, something which makes me feel more human than the whole world.

I wish, it remained the longest night of my life. By the sea-side. With each wave a splash of memory rising and striking the walls. Walls that we make around ourselves. Walls that the world builds around itself. Each one for ones security, for a comforting familiarity, to be among the known and derive the pleasures from it. But I suppose its mostly to keep away ones fear of quarrelling with life alone.

With each memory, a splash of wave moving forward and a shining glance falling behind. Behind in time, over the stretch of wall, by the seaside.

While at a modern day cafe

2008-04-29T14:15:00.000+05:30

In a particular sense of disbelief for myself, I sit at one front corner of the coffee house. Its an amusingly stupid choice I consider, for of course unknown reason. May be because all the sockets for plugging in any thing that need to charged are at one private lonely corner in every room you go, the same is the case for this place. If you need charging up, go to a lonely corner of the room. However, that's not the point. The point is how so ever, I strive through the day to keep up my charming self, I realized the "routine" prevailed and before it could turn blasé, I decided to drop in to this coffee house. With the meandering thought to relax, enjoy a coffee over news in print and kill time. Or may be to kill my sense of time, which I guess is already dead, but anyways. And like usual, some one had taken diligent effort to loose middle pages from the news paper, which supposedly had continuation of stories from front page. Finally I browsed over the supplement. Going over the movies screened and gossip in the world. No matter individual opinions, those are the new items that are trendy and make up for a well-informed gentleman these days. By gentlemen, I mean the groomed guys with well-groomed girls behaving in a well-defined fashion, updated with the gigs in the city, the movies screened in multiplexes etc etc. Before even a glass of water arrives at the table, I was over with the supplement with slight disappointment for it not having the slightest provocation I was sometimes secretly look for. May be because I would like that old tradition of deriving pleasure from pictures in magazines and paper to be continued in the modern age. As a mark of respect for the print.

Eventually, I gave up and left myself to favorite daydreaming looking straight at the red wall in front of me. The only thing I could manage is to over hear people talking. And I thought of coffee houses as place, where people enthusiastically or politely share experiences, adventures of life. Talk about nostalgic memories. Engrossed in intellectual discussions about Asian economic powerhouse being exploited by west. If that's too much expectation then talk on various forms of Art, Cult Movies, Vintage Classics. Discussions about fascism, omnipresent racism and these days reverse racism or whatever. A relook at great human history or music or whatever, some thing that was of higher order than the pedestrian life. But that was not to be. Sometimes, you just end up hearing a couple engrossed in solving the mysteries of life and discussing the color of curtain matching with wall paper and furniture linen and last but not the least, the families budget. Then I realized that the pattern for wall-paper itself was not frozen between them. All homely chores put forth open on the their table and of others. Life can be sweet, I think. I guess that's the problem in the world, choice and garnering the courage to exercise it. Then the society committee members start allotting the parking lot. All I could conclude at this hip-hop coffee shop is that my perception of the world has been always skewed. And may be I was wrong.

It is really not far in time, when I used to be sitting out side on shabby but neat chai shop during the college days. Under the cool shade of a tree, under a little shack, over the warm cement, in a little known tinsel town. We had the newspaper, even Economic times subscribed to a place with no address. The paper boy knew the place, the owner of the place knew the subscribers, the subscribers knew the editors. The guys would just drop-in, bypassing all roads, that go to classes with benches and blackboards. Greet each other with abuses rushed like love letters, smiling and bursting into laughter and dig into the newspaper finding sections of individual interests, snatching and grabbing from hand to hand. And the humble guy would keep smiling and scoffing and keep blabbering and pulling legs of each one. He would serve cups of tea one after another, back to back without any one requesting it. Tea was brewed continuously-masala, special, with ginger, lemon tea, whatever, take or leave it was the attitude. The chat would range from the elections, to international crisis, from virtues of god and evil, truth about right and wrong. Opinions formed on how cruel and smart the state of Israel has been and how fool hardy the leftist in the country are. When guys were peculiarly enthused and curious about the world. All that now sounds peculiarly naïve unless coming from the sexy news anchor over television. I guess maturity calls for being focused in life and execute the little things which make it up. May be that's not a bad idea altogether.

But watching all the cuties walking around makes me think I would be fool to look for Nazi history at this moment. And to be very honest people discuss a lot of issues which are absolutely attached like leech to the ground reality of survival and happy life. And may be these are the issues which make up a general life and not the nuke deal. But that's all because I have never made up my mind on any issue I feel. With certain people every things ok as long as it comes without much hassles.

Sometimes, I have this strong opinion that the world has been always like this. That the coffee house during the earlier days would have had the same comfortable environment riddled with trivial petty issues. Because solution to all the little things in life has made life what it is now. And constant pondering on little issues is what keeps an other wise empty time filled with some purpose to pass it away. Achieve one goal, set another and get on to the next one. Some crazy guy would have found it extremely inconvenient to go far away to fetch a cigarette and would have discovered the wheel. Wheel to roll the world. And the life went into circles. That's how it is. Some crib and some do something about it. That could be a very possible argument to encourage all the society people and squabble about society troubles and the couple should squabble about each other coming late in spite of thousand mediums to commune. And people wasting half the time making up their mind to choose the perfect dish for all the value of their money. But a brilliant idea would born out of all this. And some how I find the most amusing, interesting and amicable person is this guy gyrating to the beats of the music from the speakers, tapping his feet gently on the floor and watching her girl friends lips move to talk to empty air. And shes so lost in talking her heart out. Pretty cute.

All this is while I feel the eyes behind my back. How could one come with a coherent stream of thoughts in such madness. All I realize is that to communicate with each other has become extremely important substance for a creative out come these days. And may be that s why people , these days, are talking so much.

In a pedestrian life like this you really can expect a great journalistic work, but not from me, and before I loose it all, I can loose a piece of my mind.

But surprisingly the bill came with a nice little hand written note, " Dear Guest, it was nice having you … ( a smile).. keep coming ! " . For a moment it felt like honor to a skewed patron but then it appears it was just another new customer retention marketing strategy to have a mind share for the brand. I don't know, where should I put my beliefs?

May be that's what people talk so much for a genuine sense of belonging in this world taking an over bearing exercise to make their presence being felt. The thing is make your presence feel for the listener.

---CCD, Ghatkopar

P.S: A few days later, I noticed, the thanks giving note was presented to me yet another time in another coffee shop. It was also hand written to give a sense of personal touch. They give it to every customer.

Reflections of a married man

2008-04-11T14:20:00.000+05:30

And I watch her going about the daily chores. Arranging our home. Dusting the table, wiping the beads of sweat from the forehead. Unaware about her lazy hubby over internet. Can't say if I know her, but then, I have never bothered much. She came just like that, since then things have been in present. I have grown liking to observe her, walk around. A company, little fluttering butterfly, flapping around, willy-nilly, in a sub conscious way, unaware of the eyes over it. Nah, may be not, she's been flamingo too at times, silent, with intent gaze, waiting for the opportune moment. But again, time and memories in course of time, sweetens the residue of bitter moments of bickering in the past. I like her glow in smile, I like her perturbed, I like her frown with glittering eyes, I like watching her tears tumble down over her cheeks.

Sometimes, I wonder, what does she know of me. That thought used to be scary, giving me Goosebumps. Now it doesn't scare me much. Something of mine, gave up, sort of succumbed. Her ignorance of my deeds is now shielded behind unknown grace and humility.

And I write this perhaps for the reason, that someday she'll find the truth. May be she'll understand I wanted to tell her the truth and she'll let it all be, the way it is.

P.S: Futuristic Blues.

Burying the future- A self obituary

2008-04-04T15:23:00.000+05:30

It was just another time while I was wondering. So to say, looking behind in time. And just about a crazy night, when a friend quipped, that I should write about a Obituary for my self. Brilliant idea to put an obituary, before you are dead, we thought. I don’t know, but it suddenly occurred, while through the ears phones I could hear words fading into the rising pitch of music, what would I actually wish to be on the stone over my grave. And how so ever simple, it might seem, it was not easy to think it over and look at the end. So, as I thought, what it would be like, I assumed it would be for pure feelings for every thing that make up life. I would probably wish it to read, “ My life began as a fortunate kid, with a dad who was like a dad, a mom who was unlike any other mom, my wife was the first and the best (that’s all she bothered to know about, that’s the point, I tried to drive home), my kids, I am sure were mine (in more than one respect), my friends for ages remained like boys, my colleagues never could be selfless, the places were I had been, were all beautiful, be it the muddy alleys of hometown village, or the broadways lined with glossy façade. Life, as a overall package was good or I prayed for it to be. Though I realized late. Rather too late. Tried my best, to have the best squeezed out of it. I do not know if I succeeded, and now no one can help sort it. In the end just tried to cherish the memories. Basically, I loved you all, loved the nature, loved this planet, loved gazing at the blue sky, loved the placid lakes, loved the tumbling clear river, loved those who faded before me, love for those after me, loved the silence of serenity and loved the noise of worlds clutter, missed you all, most of all I miss this life. Will miss it. Given a chance would love to live once more, make it better next time. It might seem wishful for having such life. But then I guess that s what every one wishes for, the wishful things. In the end I cannot describe what formed my identity in the world. Which piece was I in the jigsaw puzzle board. And I suppose search of identity somewhere remains dipped in love for some thing or hate for some one. At the end the fact remains – I am dead and you are alive. And, I love you the most. Thanks for coming.

It appears to me however, though I am an hindu, I would prefer myself buried underneath a large stone, and if not this particular one, there is a better obituary written over it. I don’t know if any one carries or owns in this word, call it a stupid notion, I would love to own that six feet of ground, neat one, as a bonus with this life. And that the grave stone would be over green neatly trimmed green grass, with creepers curling over the grave stone. I mean creepers with some pinkish, yellowish, flowers. And it should curl around in a fashion to just enough for leaving uncovered the part of the obituary to be read by you. Dated : 1980-20XX. Please look into that and Watch it!”

P.S: Pssst, Helloo,.. Occasional visitors are welcome, long stay is not desirable. Here, I rest!

About the line..crossed

2008-03-15T00:03:00.000+05:30

If its that line...i crossed it...walked along lil more..i found another..i crossed that too...i see another line down the way ..approaching...i wonder...should i cross this one too ..

P.S: While i surfed and pondered over a line...:P

At Sea

2008-02-26T17:18:00.000+05:30

The weekend had arrived. A group of friends were heading to Pune. Another friend was already doing the preliminary round at the countries most sought tourist spot, his eyes gazing over the white sands, smooth skins and across the blue ocean. The cute friend was on the way to the capital of the city. Another punter some where, I guess, was riding his bike making arrangements to drench his throat in a dry state.

So by noon I was swifting through the streets of Bandra. Through the swarming people, under the billboards and on the road, cruising beside dreams homes of the celebrities, rich and the affluent and on the other side, the vast sea. Perhaps at that moment, it was the most perfect place I could reach too. And as I drove past the sea, billowing smoke, with gushing winds caressing the hairs and swiping the sweat from the face, I realized the sea was always there for me. I was at sea.

And while I was sitting at the sea side coffee shop, I saw a young girl pass-by with blue striped sleeve less tank top which hugged her seductively curvaceous body and frilled skirt over her toned legs. And the whiff of the perfume while she passed was enough for me to forget that it was AIDs awareness day. But I was at sea and I had music somewhere within me. So I smiled and she smiled in return. And for a while, the smile was so seductively inviting that would put the devils head to rest.

And when I gazed over the Arabian sea for some food for thought, I realized that for this while, I had no need for any nourishment. It’s a lonely planet and I was busy dreaming to sail at the sea.

Snapshot 2007

2008-01-08T17:47:00.000+05:30

For a long time, I have believed that the beginning of new year is nothing but an innocuous increment of single digit.. And it was now long past new year night, while I got my spirits high over drinking spree with a young legend, listening to retro music from Beatles, Elvis, Jim Morrison, mesmerized with husky voice of Arooj Aftab and drifting to the gray shades, I realized that it is not as simple. Life never is. And as I tried to see through this prism, the incremental shift of one digit seemed like cruising 365 long days and long nights with scattered flashes of memorable moments in varied colors splattered over the wall. Some would fade and some would last for a long time to come. I guess, as I look back over the year, that the shades which I witnessed around me are one that are going to go a long way in my life.

So with the passing of the year 07, one might ask what was special over the year. Well, if I am to sight remarkable achievements to quantify and qualify the time I lived through, then I have none. Apart from the much needed possession of portable music stored onto the revered iPod, I did not gather any thing that’s worth boasting off. Of course I bought books I could brag about but then they merely are honoring the book-shelve much to the discontent of my conscious. And with that I have this confusion, where does the hard-hard earned money go. As for now, I should stop bothering myself much over it, for it’s a perennial question that haunts our survival forever.

I have not grown professionally to garner for my self certificates of achievements and likes of it.

With that I guess, if I would permit someone to look objectively there is nothing to be found of significance in 2007 in my life. Money, Success, Woman, Home, nothing. That just chills my spine.

But putting that aside ,if I were to justify what I have been doing all through the year, I can only give weird experiences and accounts of events I enjoyed. That’s what life’s supposed to be actually, but off-course…. dreams. And looking back I can tell that all the while I have been a spectator to this world around me, ..this peculiar and spectacular world around me.

I remember today about the last new year for 2006. Straight out of the flight on my way to home from Ahmedabad, I got down near the wine shop and grabbed beer can and waited on road side grasping the city preparing for the night. Since that day through this year I have been outdoors just observing. And I observed this while I was stoned Yes may be that’s what I have been doing without forming any judgments. And I cherished watching moments of joy, tribulations and triumphs in lives around me. So if it was from having been generously gifted with the presence of a Roger Water concert for me or watching the Scorpions Humanity tour in the company of people who shared the respect for moments enormity in which wishes come true, I have no complaints. And I remember the nights stolen from clutches of parental concerns, lying over the wet rocks behind Sea-Rock overlooking the sea on dark night, with guitar jamming with rocking waves whence for once I felt a free man. And I remember those evening nights when sitting over the wall near the bandra creek- over looking Worli sky line and its streets glowing under the neon street light …standing over its own reflection. For me, I had my own share of stupid silly adventures. I remember my first blind date wooed over internet and ended up at the Hawaian Shack, over drinks and a India Pakistan 20/20 finals. I wish she would call back so I thank her for a memorable evening and may be make up for hurting honest sentiments. And I remember someone telling me about a punter who driven for passion for a night, ended up getting caught by the disguised lady police. And we laughed over the misadventures. We always laughed at misadventures, that is a joy of youth. Fortunately he bought his freedom. Money buys free will.

And over this year, I saw changes happening around me. I began to keenly observe the smooth transition from carefree youth slowly gearing up to a responsible adult. I recollect the cute friend dressed as a bride. I remember my friend calling up and telling his encounters of his soon to be fiancé. I remember a friend calling from outside beauty saloon while he waited for his wife. Over his year many wickets went down, it felt like standing in a huge big marriage ceremony and I could listen to matured parlance I was till now unaware about. I saw a long suffering friend finding a ray of light at the end of the tunnel and still suffering with the trauma that comes to a pondering traveler at cross roads of life. Many questions and quest still remain to be conquered in the time to come, but this year, Life’s roller coaster ride came with full throttle and I for one see it unfold in its mesmerizing vagaries. But, I must confess, it blossomed this year to find a matured sweetness as in the writings of Twain, Chekov and the likes, all of which I rediscovered this year and these implored me to keep going and keep sifting my sight from one image to another.

All I can tell by the end, is that , I guess over this year I was high all the time and I mean literally. And I cruised over the roads, into the streets, the dungeons, pubs and discos, I flew into the skies and surfed over the waves rising high over Bandra rocks. And it was like a dam of emotions, which broke over me, and the thundering glory of youth fell viciously thrilling the senses. And may be it will take me some time to come back to my senses and welcome 2008. So over 2007 I felt so much, so many mesmerizing images and by the end I felt nothing. And may be in 2008 standing in the midst of white snow capped mountains and cedar trees, with the chilling wind blowing over my face that I would again feel thrilled with my interpretation of success which has started increasing thriving on coming in close proximity of fearless and liberated soul.

All this was I guess was possible it was all in this city, Bombay, aptly called Meri Jaan. For the best of my days after college have been spent here and in this year, where in people came and people passed by and in this year I cannot resist to express my affection which has no boundaries for this city which offered so much to me. So, Whether this city transforms to Shanghai or not, for it progresses or not…I do not care much. I have now got what’s termed as un-conditional love for the city . I love this city for what it was, for what is and for one time I can confidently say for what it will be..coz..it accepted me the way I and showered the best of what it had to offer my fortunate soul. Whenever I have plunged into the city, from the expressway or a touch down of flight, it always took me unto its arms, putting all the restlessness at ease with familiarity of home. And its been a truly magnificent experience as I saw the whole world in Bombay and from Bombay, which redefined meaning to the word love.

So I realized over this year, and tonight, that, wherever I might remain in this world or where our destines land each other, this is one city for which I’ll retain an affection unfound in words. Even if its for the universal necessity to cling on to something, then I’ll choose to cling on to something that for me was a true joy ride and shimmering reflection of life in all quarters comprised of the best of all you wonderful people.

Fragile dreams

2007-12-06T01:40:00.000+05:30

The shinning eyes and
perked lips
The softness of voice
and your touch
A longing in the eyes,
for the tears,
A Clown bows
to welcome his fears.

Night, it lit,
with winking stars
Trying to soothe,
the bleeding scar
In search of flight,
it was a speedy drive.
Over the barren lands,
travels an stifled cry.

Your figure seated beside,
In the grief of the night,
I saw shadows hide.
The color of polish over the nails
Diamond pendants, golden chains
Quivering lips
And lisping sighs.

Children stuck in silly play
Lonely eyes and rapture of beauty
Echoing laughter
over wind swept hay.

I try to forget and
I try to remember,
Innocent smiles
and warm whispers.
A choked heart
With fear and joy
Murmurs a litany.
Silent prayer
to somewhere, some unknown.
For forgone dreams
and lit up sweet home.

Flowers of ablution
Over joy
and sweet pain
Few for the fragile dreams
broken in the rains.

Such a long journey

2007-11-29T17:05:00.000+05:30

By Harish Mohan

(For the uninitiated, Thane is a suburb on the outskirts of Mumbai, and about 40 kms from Mahim.)

Happiness is a strange thing. The more you try to chase it, the more elusive it seems. But I guess its real beauty lies in the fact that you can only feel it when it reaches you, not the other way around.

My watch read 11:30 as I managed to just about have a glimpse of the time in the quiet lulling night, sitting on the steps at Mahim Beach. The splendor of the city shone in its stillness for a change, as an unfinished bridge blocked the full moon, shinning down upon the waters which were doing a little dance of their own. I have always looked at Mahim Beach as the common man's beach. Sure, Marine Drive graces like a queen resting in her shade of purple, and Juhu beach is the place where a man feels alone, in the swarming sea of humanity. But the stretch of Mahim Beach upto Worli is the sea of absolute stillness, lending an ear to every man who seeks his daily solace. I can't help but overlook the young married couple, while the husband murmurs in a loud tone, enough for everybody around to hear, about his successes in life and the wife looks on with a forced awe, probably out of her necessary captivity to fate. The man with a ragged look, the grey moustache and the checked shirt is silent, looking endlessly at the moon. The middle aged man has heavy wrinkles, as he prepares for his customary 20 min sojourn, while sitting on the beach, before he catches the last local and boards home to find a house to run. The rag pickers play around with the shells, with the large shiny ones being stuffed in their enormous ragbags, probably the biggest prize they will ever own, one that they would probably sleep the cold night on the roads with and impressions of crowning glory in their dreams.

With these thoughts in my mind, I boarded a taxi to take another expedition of its own sorts, as I prepared to catch the 1 hour train taking me across the city while showcasing a million little journeys in itself.

Getting down at Matunga station is a nightmare of sorts for those who always know where the next road leads. In the midst of total darkness, I shuffle, with skepticisms to guide me initially, only to be replaced by a total elation at finding myself with nowhere to go and just walking in the tunnel. The slow , idyllic walk is stopped with a mind numbing sight. A crippled mother , of about hardly 4'5 in height with disheveled hair, was combing her daughter's hair, just about matching her as she stood. The mother looked with eyes of promise at her beautiful young child and as I passed by in absolute numbness, somewhere I could hear the mother say to her "You are going to be beautiful someday, my child". I suddenly realize that I have to rush and run, whereby I just about manage to catch the last local and to my amusement, I find the compartment empty.

It is boarded, not surprisingly, by people from all walks of life, all bound by the two things that drive the city today, circumstance and necessity. At the entrance of the carpet, is a nearly naked old man, with strands of unkempt white hair laid out bare, as he sleeps like a child never wanting to wake up. Three old men, with their namaaz caps on, look towards the sky from their windows, murmuring their prayer, presumably. Despite enough places to sit, I go across to a group of people who stand to take in the unique Mumbai winds.

The Mumbai Winds. Sharp and cool at the same time, refreshing to some, a necessity to others. I watch a man, wearing the what is now common sight of a neat white sleeved shirt with two buttons open. He is old and haggard, with a bead in his hand and he is mumbling his prayers too. That is what has driven Mumbai despite suffering from 3 bomb blasts and every evil that has been inflicted to it till date, the NEED TO SURVIVE. Irrespective of faith and sensibilities, every man in this city is fighting to survive. Some in the maddening rush of their lives, and some in their own actions. And having lived 2 years in the city now, I have come to peace with such an act.

As the stations arrive one by one, I realize that this compartment is full of cripples and 'differently abled' people as this is the compartment of handicapped. I would have loved to say that I actually did not feel out of place, but the truth is, the only thing that i felt there was the feeling of dwarf ness. I felt like a midget before their spirit to live and to fight. The stations rushed by and gave me the once again familiar sight of apartment after apartment as I entered the suburbs, and the urban chaos around them.

As I finish my 45 min walk, with music in my ears as an accomplice during this journey of rediscovering life, I realize that every man has his own story to tell and his fortune to weave. And this journey that they undertake in their lives is a far greater battle than the one which I had just experienced.

Harish Mohan

Bright Side of the moon

2007-11-29T16:54:00.000+05:30

Candidly speaking, birthday parties usually have not been with much jubilation for me. I must secretly confess that I have found attending or celebrating those a bit discomforting. And I must say, I have never walked the extra mile to dissect this eccentricity, until today. I realize that this is primarily because often I have got invited to birthday celebrations of persons I have been least acquainted with. I have noticed many a times, that as a matter of courtesy or may be norms of social networking, people get invited to places where one silently feels completely out of place. And in spite of the awkwardness of standing aloof in the midst of a celebration a with the plate in hand, smiling and greeting unknown but familiar faces, I have attended most of them. I do not know as to why do people have to put with something like this. For the rich I guess its networking, business, politics, wine, dine and women. Money, I guess teaches one to socialize. I guess that’s how it is between the rich and affluent. Though that’s only wild guess as my familiarity with that social circuit is limited. As for the general category of simple, humble, generous and jealous, I guess its sheer out of courteous respect for the invitation itself. As for me I put up with such social gathering purely in hope for great food and to devour the ornate visual delight. And by gods grace, relished both on rare but memorable moments. Secretly I have desired for soothing drinks to be a part of all such functions and sadly come to realization that it is still consider a taboo. Unless the functions of catholic or Sardar. But often I have gotten around with that impediment too. It is shameless is a pre requisite to squeeze joy from certain occasions.

But, then that is about me, sharing the celebration of people I know by face and not necessarily by deeds. Overall such parties just come and go with the residue of images of ladies that were not to be. But then its entirely different when it is with the closed ones. Till date those celebrations amongst a close knit circle have remained modest and occasionally marked by grandeur submerged in river of alcohol and great food. And of course these instilled like caressing touch of feather over memories.

Such was the case with a birthday party this Sunday. It was unplanned, with no balloons, no iced cakes and indeed of course no gifts. But of course a common present from all the invitees for the birthday boy. Invites?lets say just a bunch of guys who knew that they had to bump into each other some where in the noon. From the flexibility of venue and timing, to the expectations narrowed to zilch, marked this day.

For some reason, I knew I had to buy a cheap, but censored gift to kick start my home coming to the party. So bang in the noon I took a taxi ride and traveled over the sea’s to the tambourine woman and played my role. On the other side of the town two guys were lurking the street s of Bandra, looking for the single most luxurious gift that would imbibe the day the neat corners of memories. Obviously it was unintentional and unexpected but it turned out to be something that dipped the moments into flavors.

From the gentle howl of the friends calling us from the dimly lit room, I knew the party had begun. And then I eyed the valued gift for the day which supposedly has its righteous place in the cauldrons of the rich, gently resting on the humble floor. And even as it laid itself on dusty floor, it seemed very much at its graceful best with soothing welcome warmth around it. Perhaps it could also sense the feeling of belonging with the audience.

It was nothing less but the delight of Jack Daniels itself- the brand, the vogue, the statement for the moment. The most wonderful sight was the shine in the lascivious eyes of pride and greed to savor exotic smoothness on the palate. I noticed the rascals had inaugurated the beauty just a short while before our arrival, but of course, that was expected and I’ve learn to overcome jealousy. Nevertheless, soon we all watched the sweet poison drip over the ice cubes. Tumbling and tossing over ice cubes. As as I gasped the sight of rising cold misty fumes from the ice I could empathize its arousal by viscous ness of a première whisky. And as I lay there learning the definition of exquisite class, we all raised toast to Jack Daniels and Ambrishh Singh.

We celebrated the day barely two pegs as each individuals share of luxury. But I am sure we felt content, glad. And gently the chilled drink provided the much need warmth for hearts. Soon few bites of biryani were devoured from single plate with recollection days of brother hood running in back ground. And while savoring each sip of whisky, the conversations drifted from the good, the bad and the ugly in the world, to the sweet dreams behind the private eyes of the birthday boy. Over all it was a light hearted affair. And for a while as we played music, we all got lost in the moment. The soft numbers played, the eyes got closed, sometimes the plectrum played on the strings and sometimes hands rose up and fingers played over scales of piano in empty air.

And while I lay there I had thought about the cherished birthdays from the past and approaching birth days. And about many such celebrations that are lined up in the passing year and in the early season of the new year. Over the coming months many people will take new adventures, and I hoped all such celebrations are a light-hearted affair, some marked in grandeur of luxury and some with serene humility. I wish, all such days would be joyous with food, drinks and the ladies, all in sync with the music. And more of such days shall keep coming and bring in new dawn as to make them a celebration of life itself for the moment. And I sincerely wished they are lined up with Jack Daniels dripping the moments in culmination of desires blended with grace and pride and the perfect harmony of senses and music.

The Open Window

2007-10-25T17:24:00.000+05:30

By Harish Mohan alias AsExplainedByJunkie.....

It’s been a long time. Lately, through conscious means, I became a victim of THE ROUTINE. After what seemed like an age of reluctance, I persuaded myself to collect the will required to be happy by waking up, walking the dirty road to the office, and sit numbed in front of a cubicle for 8 hours, hit the gym and sleep. Today was a little different. Thrilled by the desire to be detached and inconsequential, I left office early enough to walk a road that I have not walked for quite a long time now.

The alleyway where I go to collect my stuff from is a topic fit for a painting itself. It sits just next to the main road, which on most of the days, is bustling with the noise of drums, ‘Bhiku-Matre’ dances, and begging urchins. You walk out of that noisy blare to turn right into a pitch dark, extremely narrow alley. It’s difficult to decide on a first glance, what haunts you more, the silence in the air and in the faces around, or the stench emanating from unwashed clothes and burnt fish collected at one corner. I step down to 3 stairs and enter a cramped, one room with two little girls fighting over a beautiful doll. Interrupting their session of joy, I blurt out a meek ‘Dus ka’. The ‘pudiyas’ are taken and having got the gear along, and head for my lush and huge society.

Here’s how this works. I get back to my home, switch off the lights, switch on the laptop and the music system and start to roll. After a while, when I awake from my lull in total darkness, I find myself in love with the short restless walks that I take across the hall while the music guides me through my mind. My mind runs in a series of flashy images, each promising a vision of the great beyond. Then, as the angels of imagination always do, they give me a symbol.

The symbol that I am about to talk here is that of the open window in a dark room. The best view is to look down, across the play ground where the children are cherishing their best moments of the day. This is nothing but a sight of absolute and pure joy, as little tots run around in playful glee, wishing for time to cease still. Over looking the play ground, is the by now familiar sight of lines and lines of skyscrapers and apartments, where each flashing light in a house tells a different story. There is of course, the story of the young girl, about 16, angelic in demeanor, with expressions of forlorn and lost love on her otherwise sweet face. The balcony, a refuge for the soul, in real estate terms, also plays gallery to a different shades of characters. There are the couples, each weaving their own spun versions of ‘A Promised Life’. There is the frantic dance of the young kid with dreams in his eyes and a hope in his heart, while he kicks around the football with his own visions of a prosperous future.

It is a period of total objectivity and one of the best substitutes for the brain numbing, de-sensiting medium of entertainment which is aptly called ‘The Idiot Box’. Here is the connoisseur of art, looking at a picture which he can only dream of. A portrait of the vast canvas of life, enacted in different colors, each conveying its own meaning and depth. Of what arises, and has happened to all those people who have always stood by the open window and made this their haunting ground for life, I cease to comment. But this, I hope serves as a platform for all those people who attain their idea of peace and serenity in the quiet chirps of the bird at dawn/dusk, and share their smiles with those very tots during their precious moments of joy.

So, what do you see out of the OPEN WINDOW?

P.S: Could not have helped but to take these thoughts and post before like many words which get lost in time. I hope the guy manages more of the wonderful insights or rather outside view of what lies in inside or whatever and keeps more of such amusements coming in. Brilliantly Crafted though!. And the pleasure is all mine ! :D

And he had no time to rework

2007-10-15T02:16:00.000+05:30

With great pain he opened his eyes, the scorching piercing beams from the sun blinded him with light. “I wish I would have lived in the blur of light and not haze. How cruel !”, he thought. Above the sky was blue with not a cloud in sight which would cover the sun and provide the little needed relief. He saw two vultures hovering over him, squealing and thirsty for his warm blood. He felt the beads of sweat and the sharp pain on the cut of lips. He put his tongue out and tasted his bitter-sweat some what tangy blood. “Couldn’t have been better eh?” He thought and smiled at the sky.

How could it come to this, How?, he wondered. He was lost in his thoughts. Even now, even at this juncture in his life the questions hanged on like a child’s nightmare. He commanded his senses, “for once for a little while, just shut up, shut up. But he could not have helped it. It held there like a mirror with the same old reflection of his youthful reflection”. And eh wondered, desperately, trying to find out answers to the Hows, whens and whys, at least now ?

He was supposed to be a fucking Super Man. How in the hell did he end up with his ass lying on the burning sand. And the moment he thought of it, he smiled at himself. The pain from the lips rushed like a thunder and sharply hit the brain, and he pressed his eyes close, just to forget and absorb the painfulness of every thing in life and smiled again. That’s your idea of courage and heroism. What a hero you are, who would suck it all up and yet manage to bring a smile at your burning thirsty stingy lips. That has been your stupid idea of bravery and salvation, he thought. Bloody masochist. And now like a helpless idiot you got to wait for it to end. Damn it!. How innocent and foolish you’ve been.

He saw a small kid standing underneath gazing up at the different bottles of chocolates, trying to make a choice. And he wondered it was only choice- that’s what he could not make in his life, but how could one have made it on chocolates and all the varied beverages. Just wishing he could have taste every thing that life’s to offer and gobble it swiftly before it was too late. And life since then was an formula one race, squealing, screeching, twisting and curling, but still grasping at every moment and grabbing the adventure. He wished, life could have stood still there in that moment under the shelves of chocolates and he would not have come under the gaze of vultures. Damn!. When did the road take this bloody turn?.

The hot wind blew over sands. He noticed his suffocation. Someone should have been there isn’t it ?. Damn!. The sands choked his breath. A little drop of water on the lips would do the magic, he thought. Just a lil wetness, and the feeling of feminie moist lips would have been awfully wonderful, but that’s a luxury he could never avail and perhaps never would. He moved his tongue over lips but to no avail, even the slightest moisture is dried up he feared. Its close. Very close. The pain had subsided. The bleeding had stopped. He was feeling slight shiver and he was scared that panic would soon take over.

“Isn’t is so bloody funny”, he thought. “It was not his moment”, he felt. He felt like he believed it. Banking all his thoughts that in a while someone would find him out. Someone across the sand dunes was destined to come and save his soul. What wrong he had done, Nothing?, at least the intentions where not malicious and deadly unlike those ideals of the cumulative human masses and there beastly selfish thoughts. Moreover he counted on his destiny which had never failed him to intervene, once again and just one last time, he wished he could gather the courage and pray for it.

Would it not been great if some pretty women find him in despair and shower her care and love and bring him out of his misery once and for all. Would it not be romantic and dramatic, he thought. Would it not be such a wonderful unique miracle he would so grandly share with his friends and loved ones, about all the adventures of little tom sawyer. Who lied dead in the Mangolian desert and then love found it s way to pull him out of his grave, he smilingly thought. And for a moment he even started making up and painting the beautiful pretty face of Liza Ray. And then her face flashed. The first girl in the school he put his eyes on. Such beauty!. Such innocence. Such confusion of mind. And the confusion lingered on. His eyes closed.

He could feel the a dried obstructing lump in throat. The panic was sinking fast inside. Some one has to come soon. Help was need badly.

Not like this! Not like this, the perturbed mind prayed. The brilliance of light compared the scorching heat of the sun. Shining with blinding whiteness till the eyes closed and tried to soothe itself in the darkness. He saw a child sitting swaying his legs, smiling, with brilliant, glittering eyes full of life and energy in front of him and then the regrets came in with a belligerent youth who with bitter insensitiveness walked out on his mother who always was with unbridled love and unfettered faith in him. Did he fail her innocent aspirations too?. How bad this is going to be!. But then he had given up on every thing on every one for it really doesn’t matter in this world. He knew the truth and eventually in every persons time, they shall know it too and had moved on in life. Moving on was the name of the game. He just wished every one would have peace in their lives and accept what life has to offer and let go of their fears and wander through the deep forests, through the river streams, across the desert and suck it all up.

The friends came in front of him. All those wonderful and cheerful people he had been with. How things changed for them too. So many stories were there to tell, few lived and many died. How they grew up like desperate bachelors and found girl friends and then eventually life partners. How sweetness in life came with its own tantalizing taste of life. And he recollected the day when they all sat on a huge table arrogant innocent on binge drinking. Pulling each others legs. Twisting every little incidence of day into a joke and those brooding heart broken lovers brooding on some unconcerned, indifferent shoulders- garnering hoards of sympathy, mutual pain and all the jokes for the next morning. And then the last toast to all those friends as mature gentleman with their devotedly loved life partners. When unconsciously life streamed the notes and tones of a melody and every one had something to relate to himself.

He felt the sharp slap of a wing on his face and nails screeched tearing through the skin and blood streamed into the eyes. It hit like a shot, like a bolt. He gained his sense for a while and thought “How something as silly as fate and destiny decides to snatch away life out from the worldly confines? Leaving nothing behind no faces, no memories, no smiles and no tears.”

His eyes rested over each other. The sun was still as ruthless as life could be and under it he lay there silently thinking to himself and mumbled the last verses he wrote :

How do you travel across the winds?
Will the wings lift or the thoughts will fly
Either way its all thy pride

Shade and light are no more surprise
Is that whats known as wisdom
Or is it just another truth about the lies.

In your love and anguish my heart cried
Oh dear shadow why did you lie
What happened to sown seed
Is that how a laughter dies?

A message from the far away skies
Swirling on winds traced the dying high
Hollow eyes found the smiling wise smile

The angels in the heaven cried
But the ones in the hell they all smile
The winds whispered gently

It’s the past, all that is
Do you now choose to die?

And he had no time to re work on "it"... damn!

Whisk in wee morning hours

2007-09-14T12:29:00.000+05:30

Its been a long time. Long time since I had risen up at the early hours of morning. But before we talk about the dawn, there has to be a story about the night and night before that. When it was all pitch black for last two nights, I was doing "what I had to do that time, to get by". By yesterday night sleep was bickering and begging on my eye lids to gently rest on to each other. So finally yesterday night, I had my dinner, went to room, read a book and fell fast asleep in time and slept just enough long. Wonderfully like the good old time- with no taxing thoughts in head and no clog on chest. Awesome. That’s in brief.

So I wake up early this morning. Surprisingly refreshed I look at the my phone and scroll through missed calls. The last one was just half an hour back and I know the story about another story at night in another life. So I call back upon the last number in the queue, to get the morning update. As a rule I’ve been always calling up on people last in the queue. And the discussions jumps on to finding the best plans that each could do in his last hours of his day and early hours of mine. My plans being to experiment with the morning hour with morning walk, come back and scribble my plebian thoughts in cool retreat, while listening to the softest of the softest numbers and try if I could make something about an early affair with dawn. That was because I guess its been quite some time when I have casually taken morn walk or more appropriately stroll. I do not have much ardor for action at this hour. For that matter, I believe people in cities have relinquished the idea of sauntering in life. People these days don’t take brisk stroll. Rather I find most of youth walk with shoes on and marching in some sort of a parade, trying to cut some flab and actually ending up cutting the flab in head which could appreciate nature, solitude and beautiful females. For unknown reasons, I find it funny, but I guess these people feel good about things their way and they have their own choices. Or may be youth is supposed to be marching and not slumber around. That doesn’t mean that I am not youthful, its just that-not today, and I have no clue which day, I will have my liking for action. Also, I have a ready lame excuse- I have been doing quite a lot of traveling, living on a high, a wee bit hectic life filled to the brim with raunchy thoughts, bla bla bla which all drains a lot energy out of oneself. And I guess a morning like today’s for me is not about morning walks and strolls. Its just about appreciating a little welcome change in my routine, coz, in my conscious sense today, I am thinking about keenly observing my day pass by. And I have this idea, that may be every one should randomly choose a day in their life and observe how it goes by. That would be the greatest database of lives better than digging gene pool. And I suppose most of matter on the time scale would not be a pleasant graph.

All said and done, I finally have made my mind, and slowly my days plan work out and I am lost in my day dream. And if I could live it exactly as I want it to be – trust me – its so spicy ( that’s my youth talking ) that I would be the happiest person in this world. I do not know for others, but if I have to take a wild guess, many individual plans don’t work out mostly for a large majority and that’s why we are tired or dejected, unsuccessful and worn out unless we are going to party, meeting the rascal friends, a social outing, a long drive to friends place, meet your girl friends for evening drinks, coffee or best at her place alone. Smoke on the sea side with an old buddy, dinner at V.T, drinks at Sports Bar, and beds are left to your choice rather mutual choices, if you are lucky to find someone with mutual thoughts. I guess that’s all about my fun plans revolve around and if I am not wrong for the world too. That’s usual. The funny thing in my day dreaming is that I cast away the plans the middle part of the day, coz its not all that pleasing to think about it- wouldn’t the masses love to do that? but alas I have found majority pretends how much in deep love they are with their work.

To share a secret with you people, I must say, for flicker of second my mind even thought of venture through the life of Kevin Spacey as in American Beauty. At least to start the day his way,reaching the highest point of life in the day and then taking downward train . But I had no alcohol yesterday night. And seriously speaking, I have no clue if I should have shared this naughty thought in this space, but, after a second thought, I saw the bold letters in front of my eyes and heard sermons on freedom of expression, honesty and truth.

As for one let me confess, I have been awake for last one and half hour and I had sincerely contemplated about my morning “stroll” and come back and share a thought or two bout all the beautiful fields of sun-flowers, ladies picking up on roses, jasmines, how beautiful it is in the fresh air, about how butterflies flew watching all those cherubic angel-faces, about how much oxygen fed my lungs were, how lascivious my thoughts went, about how much I would feel to retain this little transmutation in routine decorum at least for the few coming days till I get tired of the early mornings. Because all said and done I seriously know it is very benign outside with a gentle fervor for life. And the fact is any one can guess that while standing in the balcony brushing teeth’s for complete five minutes, squat while reading the newspaper, take a long-long shower and setting every thing to rock and roll.

Curiously I think my plans are already tumbling, more over, I have an overwhelming reason to move out. I desperately need a smoke. So here I go. I guess certain sun-flowers are rotten. J. But I have no complains, I guess, the start is significant. And I think ramblers should ramble .

What happened was, I spoke to this guy, who suggest to get on to something, did lil tweaking and searching here and there, and finally plugged on the ear phones. It’s the soft sincerely Leonard Cohen number-
In my secret life. So the plans reshuffled.

P.S: It all went hay wire. The stroll lasted till finished my smoke and after that dusting the car, before a lasting mouth-wash, a long shower and a nice little read of Rajdeep Sardesai’s editorial in HT. I have always liked the early team of NDTV. The blatant acceptance of facts.

Sojourn in empty moment

2007-08-28T12:08:00.000+05:30

There are such deadly moments. The most amazing thing about these is, that such moments have started to come haunting to me very badly and too often. These are times, when my head is totally numb. May be not exactly numb its just disinterested, blanked out. Something like being devoid of happiness, sorrow, sentiments and ideas. All that sounds like attaining Nirvana, but I am certain its nothing close to it, rather its like knocking on hells door. These are basically dead. At this time I have no clue what I want right now, what I want to convey, what I am thinking or for that matter I have no questions and I have no answers, and somehow I ‘ve this inkling that’s the way musings on life are.

I can’t sleep and I can’t keep myself awake. Or May be I don’t want either of both coz I really consider both of them as waste of time. I am not restless and I am not feeling like to rest. May be that’s what you’d call insomnia And I have this over whelming desire to read, but since I have got a sty thing in my eyes, I won’t find I really comforting to read or may be I have so much in front of me that making a choice is like an uncalled baffling. Rest remaining thing is music. Now, although music is like god which would save my soul in the most distressing moments as of now since I am devoid of every single sense or feeling, I do not want to insult music ( rather that’s too much to , coz at this moment I would not do justice to it- I would not close my eyes and sing it from my heart, my head won’t nod to the beats, I won’t get all those beautiful images, I won’t get the high, basically the beat would be missing in the heart beat. But still given my due respect and hope clinging to the words in the lyrics, I still would play few tracks in the back-ground. I think I wanted to groove to some song, but I think I am not going to do that, no matter what my beliefs I would find it really stupid coz I am in a perfectly sane state of my mind. Though after giving it a second thought I think probably I should pretend to be a mad man and start dancing- all alone with nothing in my head and with no viscous beverage in blood stream to tantalize the veins and no visceral thoughts to soothe my brains. I am not even interested in discussing females. It would really be boring and cliché again. I am not thinking about life neither death is amusing me.

And over and above no non-sense or gibberish talk is probably going to make sense to me and no sensible discussion is going to last my attention for long time. All I am thinking right now is may be I should check into a decent hotel room, get into a neat bathroom, take a hot shower and go find good pub or lounge and sit on the bar-counter alone, biting on peanuts and having a scotch on the rocks and watch some gibberish on T.V with undivided attention. Coz frankly speaking unlike usual times, I would not even prefer or observe the people around me. Coz I think there would not have any thing special to observe. Or even if some thing would be worthwhile observing in a pub would be discarded very silly in this moment. Or may be I would eventually go back to my hotel room end up watching some documentary on Discovery again with no great amazement or curiosity, may be the whole information would be going straight into my head as interesting piece of knowledge which could amuse me sometime later, but at this moment I would just collect the goods and intensely concentrate on listening. Then may be fiddle around with news paper, try to catch a story of interest, and since there would not be many, finish of the stories with catchy titles, some how end up finding them surprisingly interesting and get over with them. Movies would be too long to hold me on, but still might give it a shot for a while. The point is there is very little and very rare that’s left to excite me in such state of mind. It would have to be such a rare idea, talk, movie or song, so special something has to be that even I have no clue as to what it possibly can be.

It’s a feeling sometimes I get while I am on a long drive or a long bus ride or a long train ride. When everything tends to begin as mechanical as it could, and yet there is something my sweet mind keeps seeking something ahead in the destination or in the journey that I am to begin. When eventually I enter a train, bus or plane nodding and smiling and making eye contacts and yet looking for my lucky seat which in all probability would want to be comforting and with a little privacy of my own. When I would most probably try to look around if I could commune with any one and end up disappointed to finally pull out the book, read it for a while, turning each page slowly and steadily at my own sweet pace. Finally resting it on lap and eventually leave myself resting myself on to windows and the eyes watching the out side world- the wilderness, towns, shabby and humble hutments people in dhotis and baggie pants, animals, birds, green hills, vast yellow fields, shining streams, marvelous bridges, railway crossings, landscapes, sunrise and sunset pass by, one after another. May be some mp3 player would come handy, rather very handy at times.

So is that I am dead, I wonder. But I think I am not. I might feel no life. But the amusing thing I have discovered is that, it is in these dead or empty moments that I feel alive.

That’s the best part of traveling, it gives you empty time and you feel nothing but alive.

The good news is I have started feeling this way during nights while alone in my room also.

A comment that became blog!

2007-08-24T13:40:00.001+05:30

I was going through your post about self discovery and I do not know ..but I think since that time I was commenting on it … I went on with it.. only ….to find…

Its just a matter of time before one realizes the truth about oneself. And the truth about oneself would dawn upon when one would have given up on almost every thing, given up on desires, dreams, aspirations and hopes, this salvation would turn would come only once one is satiated with his/her desires to the brim of endless human gluttonous senses. That’s my view and since it is very convenient to accept for the whole world, I hope they’ll tread this righteous honest ugly path of human psych.

Thing is eventually you have to give up on every thing, in any case, you’d just be so bored with every single thing that’s materialistic and the fight to achieve your salvation, that you’d indeed give up on every thing.

And the irony is once you've overcome everything over all stupid meaningless sentiments that you'd fall in love with everything, every fleeting second. Coz you'd realize that this is all you have. All these moments which have to be filled with all things that you wanted and beseeched, before letting it all vanish in the oblivion. You would go frantically looking for every moment rich and decorated in purity and bliss of whiteness, of peace.

Now coming to the core issue, I think Johnny has too much life in him. I think Johnny doesn't want to sleep and wants to live every moment of his life. Johnny wants to sit behind a friend who would drive him across the highways, . Johnny wants to live life, for hes running short of it all the time. He wants too much from life, and he demands it from his life, his body and every single mitochondria in his living cells. He would explode his guts and emotions to create a vacuum within and then implode to suck all the beauty around him and every moment within him, which would never escape till the grave, the lasting taste of beauty on the palate forever, he wants to see all the world, travel places, watch people, observe the absurdness of life, write about it , talk talk talk about all the gibberish that’s in the world. Find fun in utter non sense and gracefully show the world the intended "pun" when lord said let there be light ..and mischievously smiled at humanity and humans. So he would go commit the seven deadly sins, each fucking seven times and he shall have his hearty laugh all the while and then when he would know why they those would commit sins are cursed, he shall have his salvation and become god who justs preach the world.

Johnny wants to live every breadth, find joy in the cover darkness when he is at rest. Johnny wants to fall in love, be loved all the while coz he know s what he is and he knows what’s the value of life. Those who would love him, he shall be with them forever. Those who don't love him, he would love them still. But Johnny has his life, and its only his and its the only thing he has got.

And you know Johnnys not a loser, for he has lost every thing and he knows there is nothing worth in the life to be lost, except peace, beauty and life itself. Johnny is not a repulsion to humanity, rather he is a lover of humanity and repulsion to society, and detests the lie which beautifies and signifies civilization. Civilization which is nothing but a mean self interest driven book of norms which denies the originality of humans themselves. Johnny loves and respects all the brilliant minds in this world, all the people who've excelled in their passions, its just Johnny has not found his own. Hes come across it several times, but hates for himself for he never treaded the path. Johnny knows hes wasted a lot of brilliant talent and watched a lot get wasted around him. He feels sad for it. And that s about it, nothing more nothing less. Its only a matter of time, when you Johnny would let go of cocoon around him and go out and reach for the stars. Just be free from himself and fears that haunt all the germinating seeds of been squashed away to emptiness.

And to tell you now honestly its all like this. Sometimes you are so full of restlessness, energy and an overwhelming desire to please yourself and your loved ones that you would race through the traffic, taking sharp cuts and sifting through it will full energy and enthusiasm and overtaking every one. And then there would be occasions that you would just follow the single lane, letting people overtake you but would not lose your pace and just go at your constant average speed, unbothered and unfettered. That’s what you are. Moody should be the word describing it, but I guess its more than that. Its more about exercising the freedom of your choice. And you want every thing on your whims and fancies. And you are so unchained from every single human sentiment and ego that there would be times when you would be haughty to exercise your freedom and then there are those dead moments when you would be so free to relinquish your dreams and just move on like a dead man because probably you’d have nothing better to do, but to let go of them and make it all a dream in itself. That’s what you’d like- absolute freedom of thought- may be to the extent of day-dreaming and you would probably fight an argument that’s what’s bloody wrong in day dreaming if that keeps you happy. And you probably will repent for having even the least of that idea, because you know there is nothing like an absolute freedom and happiness. That’s the whole fuck up. You never want to repent on any thing coz there is nothing to regret upon in this world. And yet you would repent on every action of yours which turned out futile. You know the very fact that Johnny could swing the magic wand and would have changed every thing if he would have focus fixed for a little while, and you regret that he did not do it.

Johnny would believe in himself and yet will not put faith in his beliefs, for they seem to be so stupid. And Johnny would know himself, Just if ..and that’s the killing IF.

And Johnny wants to preserve the child within. Johnny loves all the individuals who love peace. Johnny immensely loves his life. Jo And the only the thing that Johnny hates is the world. And he has to live in it. :D…. And all you could do is turn the comment of life into a blog !!! …

If I may let my analytical mind do the analysis. I’ll tell you what Johnny s are, draw the matrix. Column C1, Cµ, R1 and Rµ, those are the rows and columns which define you, all the extremes and the boundaries, and within all that is what you see is abstract which indeed is reality. Strike a fucking balance in madness bro:D

P.S : I think, the bandwagon has not passed. I guess theres no point in thinking bout that..coz I think its passed. You could do so much. Look around when you are sane. Look at misery and apathy, you have found in with rickshaw wallas, at jhupps, with bhairav singh, or is it life that you saw ? - its all fun man. We will find a resolve soon. Its just a matter when we can dare to have that first step, over come in the resistance and fears within and reach forth, high. up. blooming and shinning and touch light. Touch the light of abstractness or abstract light whatever. We all indeed have so much choice to break loose and leave in the lost paradise, on The beach.

And I would love to watch you dare that first step…. :D..Set and example.

…………May be I concur.

Mellow High !!

2007-07-18T15:53:00.000+05:30

Reflect back. One can’t ever bid past good bye and come back to life with a bang. Not always. Rather never. Certain things come with nostalgia that’s such a wonderful mellow high. A pristing pure moment of bliss. I don’t know, I resist coming to terms with the present. And time and again, I am reminded, life’s beautiful. Cherish what you had and gaze into the distant horizon seeking the gentleness in future. For all the faces, all the back grounds that’s so firmly instilled in your memory, like the bitter sweet taste of vintage wine. Often in this fast paced life, people would party the whole night, trying to live each moment of present and then wake up with a terrible hangover forgetting every thing that was celebrated, just to be reminded once again bit by bit.

All good things come in three. Few amongst most people who always were and always are behind me. Keeping me rooted to the real world.

Age no bar, caste no bar, money no bar, color no bar, creed no bar, sex no bar:D. When nothing bound you but the the idea of ideal life and you even gave it all up, just to live life in a moment. But life lingered, with your silent sigh as a residue.

Monkeys or Langoors !!! :).

If just they were not in the frame, The landscape would have been so pleasing!

Thats every thing that he took away. That s everything that everyone takes away.
I could not help but to notice with mixed feelings and morbid confusion the T-shirt said- Punk.
Desperately avoiding the gloom to take over, all I can do is helplessly wish hes in peace.

View from home. Dark clouds looming over the green hills.

Rock star s and super stars..!. Young, beautiful and confused. Sing a song and prove me wrong. I hope at least one to stand and shriek out loud for every one to hear - dreams die hard!

There are infinite such moments which make up any life. And every time I have come across these reflections the feeling comes as though I am running out of life and I try to gather and rummage through everything, every second in the hope that these remain clipped in coming moments forever.

P.S: Except for two, the other snaps are courtesy Haria. And I hope the that a few people whom I've been pursuading to share my moments and the other snaps do that at the earliest.

Just Bizarre

2007-07-16T13:25:00.000+05:30

Ladies and gentleman, right now I have decided. Decided about making a decision. A final-final decision. Sorting every inch, every shred of doubt about every thing however timid and trivial and tear through the deep narrow harrowing dark freaking valley of confusion and come victories with one single commandment dug on the stone and show the world and if they don't care, keep it always dangling on my ugly hairy chest. The last commandment which every sad pathetic soul should understand in the simplest comprehensible fashion. And this shall be thys religion or my religion or whatever. Tonight here under one roof and four walls with no fresh air, surrounded by my folks, relatives, friends, in the midst of my room with so much noise in the head, I have decided finally for the decision to be made tonight, and I am preparing myself for it. I shall sleep now in the evening ( I need to sleep man badly ! for any thing to be thought about ) and wake up again in the night, and venture out and think hard hard and harder..... and today I know after enough intellectual blood have moistened the ashes I shall snatch it from the clutches of misery and mystery. And I beg to the lord that, no distraction should come my way and tonight has to be tonight. The fucking night.

With full honesty, I shall confess to you my audience however small in number or may be only my vanity, I tried really hard to think or rather I really tried hard to think whatever fuck it be. Get the sense ok. Now before I loose it all, man, I want to finally say, I tried. After enough deliberation on thinking and no spark of idea, nothing sparking up, I got exhausted. There are these moments of sanity where-in one is so deeply rooted to the real world and no matter how hard he/she might think they just can’t achieve the escape velocity. I just wondered why in the gods names it was this moment tonight. And finally, I gave up and decided- nothing doing man, now whatever first occurs to you is your principle, foundation stone whatever it be, it's the-the most important thing of damned crazy life and of others and I shall be Moses. So just trust the instincts.

And I closed my eyes, trying to cut myself from every thing and every possible thinking and with all that madness repeatedly shouted at myself to think to cut off, impatiently begging something to fucking bloody pop up and then finally-finally uttered the magic word. I spoke to myself ”Try to be happy “. And in the middle of the haze, the smoke, the confusion of mind, for a second, I was like repeating myself without giving slightest reason to my big discovery and uttered joyously again and again “Try to be happy–Try to be freakingly happy and relax. And you shall find you are and life will be beautiful and world will be wonderful!” Yuppy ! Ureka. No matter fucking what ! You’ll stay happy. I felt great.

But suddenly like that thumping scaring knock on the door while in that so ever lasting life time orgasm, this stupid voice uttered from behind, “You mean, try to be happy. Tryyy-to-be-happy. That’s your big idea. That’s it. After all this thinking while cutting yourself from the thought process horse-shit, this is it!. This is what your mouth throws up .Try to be happy. What-a-fucking-loser man. All said and done, it suits you man. That's the basic truth for your unfunny life, not the great commandment, its more like accepting the bitter hidden truth of your life.”

For a moment I was at the pinnacle of madness and wanted nothing but to swing my head with great force and hit the rock in front of me again and again. I was dumbfounded back again to the dungeon and while I took a break figuring out an argument, I could gather nothing and said “ Hey listen happiness is very-very important, and exceptionally important concept, us and them beseech it all the time. To simplify it is so very essential you know at least for me and for every one else. Probably it is in this subdued concept that the truth of life is hidden.”

“Hey tell me, are you eluded by the great idea of happiness lying inside of you?. Forget it man. The reality is like this, you don’t have a ration card, voters Id card, Pan Card for that matter even lost your driving license. Your credit cards can’t help you to get any credit in the world, the bank bank balance figures are always like mystical mathematical constant Rs. e. “

Hey hold on …man

“Na na ..wait, over and above, destiny has been so unfair given your dashing looks and the metro-sexual persona and not one girl friend. Over that not one girl would dare too be a friend, given the gentleness with which you ogle at them.

Look man, take my advice, its for free. Get your lazy ass working out something. Slowly and steadily, happiness would follow. All that you don’t have is what all you need to be happy. Don’t look for happiness in a crazy creative outburst. It will only drive you crazy. Those, what I’ve listed out are the keys to solving the puzzle man. Those are the things that will keep you calm and composed. The first priorities in life.”

I really could not have helped myself but to argue. I know, arguments brings problem, but I can ‘t help and so I argued, “Hey listen buddy, first of all, I do believe happiness lies within inside like some sleeping beauty waiting for a ugly creative frog to kiss and wake it up. You can be happy all the time and at all the place. The trick brother, is the fact how you can keep yourself amused and excited. Believe me, any, decent, educated person who has got the credit cards, wife, girl-friend, bank balance comes across a phase, where he is lost, he bewildered by what next?, that too, if he s got the time to think about oneself. Or else he keeps spending all his life garnering hoards of cards cash and chicks. Even after all that the pathetic soul would have his own share of woes and worries. Imagine Gautam Buddha sitting underneath the tree, trying to meditate on god knows what…he looks so lost, was he unhappy?. No. He was happy in his world. He would keep himself amused in his deep thoughts, though I am not very sure what they were? I wish I knew. And moreover my dear friend trust me if you were chasing those listed priorities in your life, by the time you’ll look back, you’ll find your times has gone and the end has come and all you had was nothing but a dead residue which will hold no meaning what-so-ever. That’ll be your age and end.”

With his blank face, I knew I had failed to make a dent on his thought. He was toughened by the crude realities in the world. After a pause, he exhaled heavily, just like resigned tone of dad, “ So now you want to be Gautam Buddha ?”. “In this world, I mean In today’s world, you want to idle under the shade of a tree. Have you gone mad!. What’s wrong with you? From where I see, you really have to try hard to keep yourself happy ! “

“Its complicated for your immature brain. Why you getting so passionate about it man. Your advice is really not required. I am content, you seem to be pretending fulfillment! “

The voice told me , " Shut the fuck up man!. I don't need any pretension on this silly thought of yours. You try to be fucking happy o.k. I am all right. You are getting sick! ".

"Sick! What do you meaning sick man! Where are you taking this.... in any case..See you don't have courage to say you are happy ... just look how you lost your temper...”

The voice in a very polite and gentle tone said,” Ok, I am happy, alright?. Calm down. I just don’t agree with your idea of trying to be happy man. You know it very well it’s the constant philosophical musing that are keeping you disturbed, why don’t you stop reckoning them.”

I said, " Look man , what the harm thinking about beautiful varied things in life, whats wrong if you observe beautiful flowers and literally amuse your thoughts to touch all those brilliant colors. I mean is it really madness if you could almost communicate with a dried parched tree. If you could just stand in front of a tree watch its twisted branches and feel the warmth of nature and life and observe life’s cruelty carved out with so much grace. It’s a rush of different kind for people. They can lay still and find happiness in stillness. If that's not enough rush, just be a little naughty, look for a pretty little thing walking past by and pass on a sweet smile in appreciation to the mother nature’s gifts around, you know and be happy. If that’s what that suits you. And drop the “ try “ part, and be happy. ”

“Hey hold on ...man ...that's no trying to be happy!. That’s just clear lewd act of watching the pretty little thing pass by covered under the bouquet of flowery words. Why you keep bringing the chicks into play man. Can’t your world be beautiful without the mention of tickling romance in your world.”

“Hey if bro, look, that was on the lighter side, why you always the nagging and cribbing at every thought and idea man. Its like, why not take life a little lightly? The reality is that life without all those wonderful sentiments of being human including romance is no-life man. There’s nothing wrong in any thing and you can be happy assimilating all those sights of playful kid kicking a foot-ball and the victorious smile on the innocent face after that swing, a foot-ball match with roaring friends over pitchers of beer. And you keep observing this fine lady walking briskly, glued to the phone, talking smilingly to probably her boy friend or some one and then she glances up at make eye-contact and she knows you’ve been appreciating her and she smiles and you smile and life smiles in return. What’s the damn harm!. I mean appreciate the beauty of web of life, in whatever form. I mean be real but also don’t miss out on the beauty of abstractness. I mean do I need to implore upon you to realize the existence of colorful mystery and the vibrant nature. Take a break, look around, away from the chaotic world. Look at it, its such a pretense, such a submission to the demands of society and yielding to the hypocrisy around you. Spread yourself on a seat and hold on to the soft hands of life, with cool breeze and dream. Dream man. You don’t have to be on Mt.Everest to feel the warmth of nature in the coldness around you.

And we started this thing with…tell me since when did you start having such conservative moralistic thoughts man. You know, every one flaunts. You ain’t some sane man! “

“ Hey hey hold on the reigns man, you are sounding so pathetic. Such a starved hungry animal. Its you who needs help. I mean what do you mean by that “ beauty of web of life “ . I mean whats wrong with you?. You need a desperate break. Stop and think about your work, parents, get a girl and settle down. Do something good man, think about the unfortunate poor destitute souls, think of means of poverty elevation, ways and means to dilute the income inequities etc…And if you are so longing go and cheat on your wife, you psycho, but then don’t go fucking blabbering about your adventures around the town and preach the lessons on the exotic cravings on the caves and greatness of the book depicting the masked weirdness of human psyche…!”

"You think that’ll help any thing in this world man. Will it change or make any difference to you man. Don’t you think those who have engrossed their life in pursuit of these goals, ask them, they keep cribbing about it all the time.”

"Look all you are thinking about is going back with some brilliant idea and punching the keys how sorry man, you are lonely just chill, go out and have a bear, you know have some fun, party for a while.”

“I’ve partied enough bro !. And I haven't punched the keys in a long time man, I‘ve wasted away a lot of it .Why can't you give one decent piece of advice .I am ok. Really ..”

"By the way, I don't think you wasted it instead it seems you are wasting it. And you look wasted too.”

"Listen man. I am great,I am tired. Ok. Really, stop it, I think I am wise and I am old, that’s why I am doing this exercise. I like exploring. You get me wrong, I am not trying hard to look for reasons in this world man. But my amusement lies in the mundane thoughts in a mundane world man. You won’t get it"

"You are no wise man, you are just passing your time and by no chance you ain't old man. Don't fool me around, now something exciting and raunchy on streets and your adrenaline will rush like thunder, one moment away from the sight of the people and you'll fly .I know you .you fox! ".

I could not help but smile, "Yeah, may be. Well, I never denied that youth is wonderful. In-fact after all this brain-storming, I think I am the one who’s emphasizing on the infallibility of youth, where as I should be contradicting it and now man since you’ve ruined every single thought of mine, tell me you happy now , does it end or it goes on like this the whole night man? !"

He smiled at me and said , “ Does it ever ? “

“I am getting irritated man so just shut the fuck up man for a while. ok. I can’t believe sometimes, mostly. I bank upon you, and even you fail to make me laugh from the heart.“

“But you are getting serious, for god knows what reasons. Fine, tell me What do you like?

“I used to like a lot many things. I wanted to do a lot many things. But some how i don't get interested in any thing any more. So honestly, I don’t have an iota of idea of what I like. I am totally disinterested. “

“Not even girl s eh? don't lie.”

Momentarily i guess. Its a nice idea. But it doesn't last. Moreover its too demanding and I don't want to relent to such demands any more. I don't see any purpose in that, its too boring and too time consuming. Though ...its an adventure..but its all fake too. Most of all I haven’t made up my mind on that issue. “

Why you like this man?

Look man I am happy as long as I am alone. Once in a while someone drops in and asks how r u ? and we share a few thoughts that’s more than enough man, but I am fine like the way I am.

You know why?

No. How, I wish if they could see the wavelengths and patterns beyond the visible spectrum. Its not all that bad. I know how much life is beautiful and how much beauty could be on the platter. But I don’t want to eat it. Its an irony, like someone said, success is sweetest to those who never succeed and like wise Life’s value is know to those who don’t have a life…Ha ha ha . Fuck!.

Don't bore me man ! Hey, just tell me before I leave, What do you like doing at nights ?.

What ?

I mean after I go what do you like doing at nights ?

Well these days, I like, well, I like reading short stories and little fables.

Common man, what fucking fables man ? You don't think about sitting smilingly under the gaze of a Jet air hostess ? That’s your age man. Don’t lie, think about it man, that stern commanding gaze on that wonderful face, with ever so soft and polite smile..haiiii …”

Well sometimes, but I am not thinking on those lines. However, let me admit, it sounds nice. There s no harm in basking in feminine warmth.

There you go….! , but I am really concerned about your mental health, reading fables ...my a...

I am telling you man, if people could make their lives like so many beautiful fables and write it down, life would be so much wonderful radiance, vibrant, enriching, ful-filling and pure.

Yeah!. like your gut-wrenching story about loneliness. OH- ho..hey man ...make life like a beautiful fable ! ...don't you think that s a better commandment eh ?

Yeah, may be, ...but not simple enough..

Chuck it bro, tell me what do you want to do .....very desperately right now ?

I don’t know exactly …May be ...may be ...I want to write a short story and may be some day a book, or may be just not write a damn word and just read. Don’t know.!

He smirked at me and told me , .can you just tell me now ...what do you want in your life ? ..how you want your life to be ? Now, fast quickly, quick, quick, quick.

I want to ....be ...lets say ...... i want to write a beautiful fable or something like that’s.....make life a short simple warm fairy tale , a lovely story ..….a fable of sorts with all the emotions, insights, share experience, a suspense thriller, a pot-boiler sometimes.

He came with a characteristic broad smile of naughty brat, “ there you go man ....thats about it don't you think ...

We looked into each others eyes and smiled.

" Rascal ! "

Garfield in the Grassfields

2007-06-18T17:47:00.000+05:30

From the corner of my eyes, I see him sitting in his cabin. He is reading economic times. There was a time, I would have admired this image. But then and there, I could not help but think, life has been sucked out of him. What a drag!. But then like sporadic self-contradictions, it flashed to me that may be life s not sucked out of him but instead he has sucked life out of all this office and is sucking mine and himself is having gala time of life. Most of us agree that may be the later is true.

But since as of now, in this blissful moment after attainment of self-confidence by true detachment, I believe that in all the right senses of humanity and compassion, he s sick and has no life. He is old, his face is worn out and I am sure he has his own share of hoards of trivial personal issues inkling at the back of his mind like that irritating humming of a mosquito on your ears. And he truly would go berserk any moment and slap his face. His life has slipped doing this one thing again and over again and achieved success by Darwin s “ Survival of the fittest “ and Adam Smiths “ Division of Labour”. Ladies and Gentle man he is top guy and has born the fruits of his labor and trust me he is as uncomfortable in his sweaty under wear as the office boy. You think it’s a pleasingly motivating sight. Please don’t fail me!.

The harsh reality is that most of us would be somewhere in that position, sick, tired worn out and may be yet every thing insecure. That’s the truth. The harsh truth which comes with age, look around and trust me all those faces will be yours in one situation or the other. And because we would never be happy with all the toys in the world, we would be chasing around and around this world, for us and for them and then fatal moment will come when you shall realize that it was just a silly game of merry go-around and you lost it all on the way. But for a while, in spite of lingering fears, I should admit I really don’t care for it. This is my time and I choose this moment. I need money and time and no work. By that I mean no work!. And its not that I am lazy or incompetent, I don’t give a damn! that’s all and that’s about it. Also, I have my reasons, which I think the world should know, coz I have been carrying tons of allegations for untrue and leading a lie.

Fact of the matter is I have not failed the world. The world has failed me. And brothers and sisters for all you know that is true in life is actually the biggest lie that god played on us. With the sad reality that in spite of every thing that you shall endure during this journey of nostalgic youth, exotic adulthood and nauseating old-age, you’ll never know the answers of why and when s ?. And if that was not enough he played another trick, no human was similar. We are all different. And we like fools competed with each other trying to be different and taking pride in it. The funny thing is if you are not able to differentiate yourself from the others you yourself never feel good about it from inside. See, you can’t beat the system too. Then your age would be gone and new ideas will germinate, a generation would come to thinking alike because no matter what all father s are mysteries, all sons are brats, all mothers are lovely and all daughters are wonderful. Identity?

What values does humanity thrive on?. Peace, liberty and freedom. It’s a mirage really. Since the dawn of human race, forget nature, we have been drinking blood out of each other in crusades over land and women. Who is Saddam, we even killed Jesus and documented it. And if there wasn’t enough filth in the wild carnal fantasies some one discovered Oedipus and made him famous for generations to corrupt. And before he was to die, Mr Freud came in and lifted the veil over the glory of human nature. People would say that’s an over emphasizing a subject and shrug it off. But how can you shy away from the numbers. Just have a glance of percentage distribution of subject content on the internet and the surveys on the great billion dollar pleasure. And trust me all governments grapple on how to cash upon this oppurunity in the most suttle ways. Should we talk of hypocrisy or should we be celebrate our great virtues.

Should I relent to a world that keeps itself confines of four walls and boundaries and runs on relations of conveniences?. Switch to CNN, watch the malnourished children in Africa, witness the apathy in the honor killing of females in middle east, the bombings. If nothing watch the farmers slogging for an earnest living in the scorching sun and commit suicide in there sick final lap and those who manage to garner the strength, the men, women and children watch them squatting on the road side. People would think that’s melodramatic, there are success stories. Look at the numbers, and if those are melodramatic, just glance into all those eyes and watch those weary faces in the bus stops and stations, longing and waiting for the struggle to end. How much joy I see around me, Ah! full-filling, awesome. Its so much pain, trauma and loneliness that you would have no choice but to turn a blind eye and set focus on your goals and achievements and still be sane and sleep at comfortably at night. Isn’t that funny and ironical, this sheer helplessness.

Then there are others who would site examples of good work been done around. It’s a joke really. The worlds predicted to end in half a century and the pace of good and developmental work for the welfare of humanity is full swing across the globe, have a look at middle-east, Africa and in the back yard slum in Mumbai. You think these are flourishing?. They have lived and will go and what would they have, nothing. Sheer waste and never even have the time to think about their lives. You were fortunate buddy that s all. That’s the greatness of our collective human civilization.

If, I were to give you the simple mantra to success to become the guy in the cabin or the lady in the corolla , learn the art to adapt. Adapt to situations. Make change your lifes constant, and keep manipulating or adjusting to situations. Always be on your toes. Keep dancing to those faites thumping tune and hopping from one square to another. Like fucking jokers. In a way the if you look closely you could correlate the art to adapt and survival of the fittest. Thanks in advance.

As for me, I say a big NO to this stupidity. I choose to be extinct and vanish. I won’t adapt to destiny s pressures instead I will change this stupid battleground. I choose to quit, when destiny wants to play, I’ll play when fate wants to quit. I have got this plague and I’ll spread this plague. And now I need what I seek, I seek soliders to wage this war of stupidity. Now I know the power of masses. They can turn all the lies seemingly the most incredible truth of real world. So here I’ll turn the tables. I will have the army of good for nothing flower children.

And then we need a leader for this army. No. I don’t want to lead any one. I want to be an observer and refrain from actions of any kind. I just want to lay back on the podium sip my bear, biting popcorns surrounded by ignorance which gets used throughout its life, stands and applauds this game between the good, the bad and the ugly.

I just want soothe my heart watch ignorance, god and devil do the belle dance, the sweet triple tango of its unique sort. Just chill and lie on the couch.

Ah! You know how much better it feels to lay yourself on the couch shake your head up and down, close your eyes. Stop looking for meanings in a meaningless world. Or is it meaningless mean world ? Chuck it.

I think, no DJ in world comes close to Mick Jagger. These guys made sense.

Junk Dilemma BC # 101

2007-06-11T11:30:00.000+05:30

Did it had to occur to you? Did it ? No. But yet you walked on the road. Walked without thinking. Did you not think about it actually? . All the time , all the while you know where this was going. Did you try to stop it ? . No dear friend no. And that’s where you failed. Failed so miserably. In denying. Denying the temptations. Was it really necessary to fell on to your knees and fall for it ll. Not at all. You fooled every one with your ideals of curiosity and inquisitiveness. Why you fooled every one and now you hang your head in shame. In shame for your self. Stand on the window and gaze at the open sky. Look at the stars and feel nothing. Feel the wind and feel nothing. Just a soul trapped inside the body, commanded and served to the naked dance tunes of your dirty mind.

What happened to your eyes. Could you not see it. If you could not were your actually arrogant. But hey what difference could you have made it any ways. It just came on the way and you stopped. Forgot your destiny. Forgot those promises. Forgot all those eyes and aspirations that were put up on you. And chose to differ. And by the time you woke up! It was all gone. Every thing. Your grace. Your charm. Your healty life. It was turned into filth and dirt with only substances and sensuality remaining to amuse you.

What a shame isn’t it brother. What a shame. Come to accept of your real face and your soul cries of disgust. But what if the inside hates the world and most of hates every thing that you are. Want to apologize. Ha! But to whom? Are they worth? No they are not. But still you would like to apologize. The question is to whom? Whom do you chose to confess. Just when you were to unburden your self, life laughed and told you, to take a walk. You were not required. Such a pity. World will go on with out you. And long after you have gone.

For A while, for a while I thought music was dead. It was for me. Music was dead. I used to be so scared, even the thought of it. Would it never cherish me any more. I could not believe it, I have been so away from music, especially the kind, that kind for such a long while. It was just during my nocturnal visits to some of the most fabulous places in this city that, it used to come and kiss me right on the cheeks. And I for a while thought, I knew whom to apologize.

And sometimes I see him stand with hands hanging on the railings on the window and look at the dark cloudy sky and the gaze remains confused sight of gentle white radiance of moonlight surrounding the shadow of sun veiling the moon. The burning sun as shadow over reflection of its own light. Life’s nothing but fucking foreplay of light and shadow.

Hey now, all you sinners

Put your lights on, put your lights on

Hey now, all you lovers

Put your lights on, put your lights on

Hey now, all you killers Put your lights on, put your lights on

Hey now, all you children Leave your lights on, you better leave your lights on

Cause there’s a monster living under my bed

Whispering in my ear

There's an angel, with a hand on my head

She say I’ve got nothing to fear

There’s a darkness deep in my soul

I still got a purpose to serve

So let your light shine, into my hole

God, don’t let me lose my nerve

Lose my nerve

Hey now, hey now, hey now, hey now

Wo oh hey now, hey now, hey now, hey now....

We all shine like stars

Then we fade away

The Tranquil Nursery

2007-06-01T12:52:00.000+05:30

" I like lilies " she said.

The gardener was a little disturbed, but he managed to contain himself and ask " That’s what you've been looking for?".

With her calm gaze fixed on the expanse of flowers and shrubs, peacefully searching, she said. " Yes" and then added with child like innocence" You've have a nice nursery. Its a bit different than the others in the town. A little sober. A little somber. And still holding." She paused, took breath, exhaled and said, " a sinless joy."
She smiled gently and veiled her thoughts, pressing her lips together then with clear firm tone "Its nice."

They paused for a while looking at each other from some distance till the gardner broke the silence with his modest voice "I don't think its great enough. Its just something little I tried to do in leisure time and later let it take its own form." and smilingly " Its a pleasure that some one sees so much in my garden"

For the first time, she looked away from the flowers and slowly turned her head, with a soft smile on her face, asked " Does that tells a little of you which is not known?".

The Gardner laughed a little, " No. No. Its not my secret garden. Nothing like that, its just , I guess, something, as you've put it appropriately, nice and neat"

He watched her kneel, bend over the Jasmine shrubs then gently talking a petal between her fingers feeling the smooth texture of it. " It s ok, you don't have to feel shy about it" and giggling she said, " You can have the luxury of unloading the burden of being a Man for awhile." and soon retreated her mind to the flowers with gentle gaze the one reflecting the calmness of blue lake, appreciating the beauty around and yet remaining ever so contently detached from all of it.

He stood waiting for her to complete her thoughts and wondered, "why she had come to his nursery this fine Sunday morning?" The sun was shining bright. Most of the town was celebrating the spring, some on hill top where the town people had arranged a trip, the boys he knew had gone to swim in river and bask in the glory of sun. And he wondered," why would she come to this nursery after all these years?". He had seen the girl in the town barely knowing her even the name. He had seen her since a child. He remembered, how he used to watch her go to school like a silly sweet heart, go to college, later she had gone for further studies to the town. When she had come back after accomplishing her studies in science, he had heard she was married fine scholar at the city university department. In later years he saw her delivering lessons in literature at community school. They had barely spoken to each other and their interaction was limited to a formal nod and courteous greetings at the local church.

He gazed her graceful figure clad in bright while, kneel over the Jasmine flowers, bend over, holding the flower s between her tender long fingers " Jasmines.... it has that unique gentle fragrance." She took a moment as if carefully choosing her words, she said, " I come to know a little of you from the friends in town. They talk of you. People always do. They tell me you are nice gentleman but a little reserved though. And I must say, they find you quite amusing too. But I guess, all of them have resigned you to your own self. I have watched you tending the flowers in the gardens time to time. You seem to do your job with considerable alacrity. But my experience tells that a silent discipline is often to contain the turmoil inside.

During the whole time, she was talking to as if some known to her and not a stranger, lost in her calm thoughts and seeking the depth of the unknown. The Gardner was watching with amusement, confused as to which direction the conversation was taking, " I am sorry, correct me if I am offending you, but I have never delved to those depths of my routine. What is that is bothering you lady?".

" Oh, you misunderstand me. May be I was too candid for first meeting!. It was just an opinion I had formed over these years, and since I felt like expressing, I have done so. The intention was not to dwell on your personal lifestyle." and with friendly sweetness she said, " But they say, you have kept this nursery good. Since I have never being here, I thought may be today I should explore this one too. Well, you did not tell me, do you have lilies?"

"Why, I was thinking you were liking Jasmines. "

"Oh, I do, but today I need Lilies."

He was a little perturbed, but he concealed his thoughts and said, " Well, in that case, I think this garden of mine shall be of little value to you. I do not have lilies in this nursery. "

She smilingly gazed into his eyes with the absolute mastery of disguise, " Hmmm...in that case yes, it would indeed be a disappointment for me today, but, I am sure someday you shall plant lilies, no matter what your fears." and turned to the Roses.

In a tickling manner he said, "You know, I am of the opinion that. It would take more than a life time to know a person"

Without giving a glance, she retorted back , " You never know. You never know and yet, yet you may know everything. Sometimes its all so amazingly absurd."

Suddenly the gardener laughed, " I don't think I would enjoy let an interesting customer not enjoy her trip to my nursery. Would you like to have a cup of tea here?"

"That is surely welcome", she said, with a dignity that comes to those who take the path less treaded.

They took their cups and strolled in the garden, he telling her about all the flowers he had sown, about the varieties, the seasons and went on with an enthusiasm of a scholar who had spent considerable time pursuing his interested, attending to the details of life sowed, watered and observed it take form and structure in front of keen eyes. He asked her interests, he asked her about Lilies, she told him, " lilies you know..." and with youthfully enthusiasm they went on discussing flowers, feelings and life. Soon time went under horizon, till their shadows gave in to the darkness.

Morning light poured as if in tune with the towns pace of grace and calmness. He could hear the church bell and he started waking up to a illusion of a new dawn. He went about doing his morning chores and came out neat and casually dressed out into the nursery and gazed around, many colorful birds were chirping on the trees and there were honey-bees on the flowers. Life has bloomed to its full glory, the gardener thought and smiled to himself. His attention went to the young couple opening the nursery gates.

Taking a casual walk, he went to them and greeted them inside. They both walked behind him shying and trying to avoid get his attention. He turned around and asked in a humble soft mature tone, " Tell me, how can I help you. "

Boys face reflected affection, love and care for the feelings for the girl, he spoke taking initiative of a protective friend " She has interests in gardening. And she was planning to have a lily plantation. So, we were wondering, could you help her getting one. Since there are not many beautiful nurseries left in the town like this one"

Reflecting back to the memories, the past, so many friends and so much love, he uttered, " Yes, I guess, this nursery, has weathered the change of seasons and turned a little more beautiful" and rubbed his palms over his wrinkled eyes.

The gardener was lost in the sweetness of boys innocent and ignorant words of love, stood smilingly at them, as if teasing them of the hesitating manners and tried to catch their eyes. He took a moment, smiled at them back and said, " Well, I feel little bad to disappoint both of you, but I would not have lily plantation for you. Please do not mind. I have many other varieties of flowers, few of them as exotic as Lily , you can have a look around, see if something else pleases you."

The couple gazed into the gardeners deep old eyes, " Sure we will."

"Then in that case, I shall brew some hot tea for both you wonderful people." and he walked towards his cottage. From the corner of his eyes, he glanced the boy tickling the girl and both of laughingly taking walk in the nursery.

The couple playfully giggling started briskly walking, hand in hand, around the nursery. When they came to the back yard, they were amazed. Surrounded by the shadow of trees, there were lilies arranged in the form of a thick circle. Neatly trimmed slanting from high to low, making a sort of little hill. The ones on the inner periphery of the circles were visibly older than the ones on the inside. And there was this gentle fragrance of moistened soil watered in early in the morning.

From behind they heard the gardener, “ Please do not pluck the flowers from those.”

They turned back, looked in to his deep dry eyes, noticing the dark circles that had formed under it. But it was warmth and calmness of his wrinkled face that touched them.

Gently he spoke, “ Please, do not misunderstand me, my intentions were not to be dishonest, but I could not have helped myself, I have tried to keep this small part of nursery to myself.” He coughed and like wandering through the past, he spoke, “ It all stopped making sense to me and I turned agnostic”

Recollecting all those sweet memories he thought to himself, “ How sometimes destiny turns lifes ignorance to a burden of crimes. “

“Every ones got a past dear friends”, he spoke smilingly with tranquility in his voice to soothe the young couple. “Under those lilies lies my lost pretty child." He took a moment to absorb the gravity of his words and the disbelief , “Lillies, a friend told me, symbolizes that the soul of the departed has received restored innocence after death."

Heaving a sigh of relief he said placidly, “ It’s a sunny day, lets go to the front into the nursery, the tea is ready to refresh you.”

The couple sensing his reserved past, followed him as he walked in front of them.

As they strolled behind his graceful wise figure, the couple glanced behind into the middle of the lilies, and noticed the neatly carved statue of Mother Mary with folded, gentle arms, longing to see into the closed eyes of what seemed like dead Jesus.

BORING BRAIN

2007-05-22T09:51:00.000+05:30

Long time since I reflected back. But I don't want to any more. Never knew things would come to this. So much fun at such an age. How could one come to the terms like this?. Some times you very well know the path to be treaded, but alas, you stand helpless and that tear treads ever so gently over your dried skin. Without even giving a least of the hints life takes such a smooth turn to an adventure, that fills your heart with love and then gently to hate finally taking every thing away settling every moment in dust. Yet, we would take that course. If there is any thing in this world that could make it beautiful is compassion and as you walk down the road soon you'll know there are not enough heed an ear to your tale and empathize with your parched lips. That's the city life. Young and lonely.

Sometimes it comes all striking right through the middle of the heart. A flash of the scribbling with black charcoal on the wall rips across the darkness. The echo of laughter within the four confines of the wall comes shattering the ear drums.The warmth of a shake-hand and the swinging palms bidding good-bye. Eyelids press against each other either confused to forget or to recollect, to run towards or farther from the haunting truth and beautiful mirage. A shadow standing in dark corridors of confused youth seeking bliss in calm of starry night, sweetness in the sound of burning paper.

Once I stopped a walking man passing across and patted his back, today I see a dead cow lying in front of me.

Have you ever planted a tree. I think one should try his/her hands on that silliness s. And then the plant grows, blooms and blushes becomes green, but bears no fruits and no flowers. Would you for-sake it? Why do you forsake it ? Why do you choose to love?

And I saw a river tumble across the stones, loosing its stream and finding it s way back again to join the final rush. But the river after all shall finally loose itself in the vastness of ocean and be just water. So futile is the existence, but the rush I guess is worth it. It's the journey that matters, better than be a lake calm placid and at the end site saddened by ugly algae and eventually vaporised with no history.

When did all the sun-flowers die?. Don't you get distasteful of death. You were the golden boy. Now even punching the keys is a sorry pain.

Plucking the petals

2007-04-07T18:37:00.000+05:30

A few of us are fortunate enough to witness to so many varied things in this world, including the most shaddy and miserable ones. Like, I have been witness to so many hard real facts about our this little world, that a normal person is so igonrant and meldramatic about it and he cannot possibly even fathom that its all part of the same beautiful little wonderful world of his. May be ones you would come across that other side , your perceptions too shall change. Your tolerance for others shall increase. May be then you shall realise how alone one can be in the crowd. Where your mind seeks everything and ends up having nothing and still keeps the search on with an everending and unrelenting quest. I go through that shit every morning. But there comes a time always.

It happened to little Johnny today. It is all such a routine, he wakes up, smokes his cigratte, stands in front of the mirror, looks straight into his hollow eyes, looks at his dirty teeth, scrubs it with his nails and carries on with his daily chores. And everything without giving a thought, not a thing. He does want to think and and now he cannot put a clear thought except for one little teeny thing all the time and all the way. And he almost went to the crest or nadir god know s what in the deapths or heights of emptiness. All the actions are so mechanical and so routine that hardly he gives a thought to it. Its a system on auto.

But something happened today. All of a sudden, it flashed to him. It flashed that he wanted today to be special. And he wanted it real bad. That is actually a bad moment. The moment the hope creeped in he was scared, but a feeling had risen and it shall not die down soon , he knew that. But somewhere apart from the hope he had this hunch in the gutss that indeed its now or never. He started betting that if it did not turn out to be today for one time, he shall be shattered. Because you got to understand some one who had not seeked , hoped and expected in years can't take a change so easily. He needs it badly and wants to yet stay away from it forever. And with hope inside bloody like helll it everything starts meaning to him. He wants to bring an end to the misery. To renew his faith. To kindle one light of hope. For one time, just for a moment, he wanted his wish to come to true. Nothing more, he is ready to go back to the dungeon but today it has to be there, something special, something to be able to smile from his heart.

And then Little Johnny walked in this scrabby store. From the corner of his eyes , in a fleeting second , something someone passed by . The very moment his mind fluttered, he thought of his morning, he thought of everything. And he knew it, he very fucking well knew it. This was it , this was it......this ...was ...divine....pure.

Jules...

2007-03-22T10:23:00.000+05:30

"There's a passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.

I been sayin' that shit for years. And if you ever heard it, it meant your ass. I never really questioned what it meant. I thought it was just a cold-blooded thing to say to a motherfucker before you popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this mornin' made me think twice. Now I'm thinkin': it could mean you're the evil man. And I'm the righteous man. And Mr. 9mm here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could be you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin', Ringo..... I'm tryin', ...... Trying real hard to be a shepherd. "

P.S Or may be I am the charity, good will...or may be I am the Valley of darkness :) ...... or may be this is all a joke and we are all funny jokers. I would like that.

Oh Billy !

2007-01-15T16:08:00.000+05:30

Some mornings are really funny. I mean out of now where, in my favourite pass time of thinking about life, I feel about the life of a NYPD cop on the streets. I mean, he has some life guys. Like just he's on his morning shift on a particularly windy mornings, dressed up like a thorough smart guy. Suddenly the radio beeps and like Charlie, Tango we have a hostage situation at a Bank around the corner. And all of them gather around the building, cordon of the area and start thinking and meticulously planning. With people around watching, amazed and excited. The neat streets with pretty things in scarfs and skirts walking around. And this guy in neat blue dress, munching on this burger, sipping on this coke and taking drag after drag of his cigrattes, concerted and focused on saving lives of innocent civilians and nailing down this extremely sharp professional team of bank robbers and becoming a hero. And sometimes these guys can sip on rum and vodkas because its going to be fucking cold. Kewl

And if thats not enough, think about this, they have all the gadgets and gizmos one would aspire for. They have vests, phones, guns, night visions, snipers on terraces and even the freaking satellites at their disposal. I mean their pretty ass is so fully covered. All they need to have a teeny weeny little bit of luck, which ofcourse god owes to give every one on this planet and their ass is safer than our politicians money in Swiss banks. And after all this technological marvels at his disposal if something untoward happens, they just did not have luck, and then what has happened has happened. Thats it. No ones to be blamed. At least thats my view from typical Indian standards of police. All said and done, I guess they have a adventurous life.

And,I don't realize why do people on a pleasant spring mornings have to sit in the bus with closed windows . Why ? . Why-why-why?. And out of nowwhere I think Moby plays great songs. Just great to kick off your day in spirit that s sober, sad, funny and yet smiling. A sweet mystry surrouding everywhere. And how would you feel with your ear phones blasting with James Bond techno Theme in mornings. Watching with a frown and suspicioius eyes to all those who board the bus. The old guys , the kids, the conductor, every ones a friend and every ones a enemy. But damn it wheres the Bond Girl. Damn Damn Damn ! .

And out of now where your eyes gets glued to the kids little fingers holding his mothers. Both of them lost in thoughts. Ones innocent the others wordly. But the fingers keep playing with each other in a soft trance of ignorance and withing fleeting second James Bonds turned to Picasso.

And you realise you could have been so many persons. You could have been a Astronaut. You could be a piolet. You could be any god damn thing in this world and yet survive and be happy. The pitch of the flute rises and suddenly the chains cut and the stone hurls to the sky. In tangent. Just far away. But alas, on this planet gravity is just enough to pull it down. But every morning I start it this same way, I am hurled to the sky before crashing down.

When will it stop humming. When?

Billy's leaving today (don't know where he's going).
Holds his head in disgrace (he can't escape the truth).
He knows the price that he's paid.
He admits that it's too late to admit that he's afraid.
Tomorrow comes. Sorrow becomes his soul mate.
The damage is done. The prodigal son is too late.
Old doors are closed but he's always open,
To relive time in his mind.
Oh Billy.
Billy's leaving today (don't know where he's going).
He's got lines on his face (they tell the story of his pain).
He accepts it's his fate.
He admits it took too long to admit that he was wrong.
Tomorrow comes. Sorrow becomes his soul mate.
The damage is done. The prodigal son is too late.
Old doors are closed but he's always open,
To relive time in his mind.
Oh Billy.
Once he was a lover sleeping with another.
Now he's just known as a cheat.
And he wish he'd had a mirror; looked a little clearer.
Seen into the eyes of the weak.
Tomorrow comes. Sorrow becomes his soul mate.
The damage is done. The prodigal son is too late.
Old doors are closed but he's always open,
To relive time in his mind.
Oh Billy.

Hey Billy ! ..Where are you going, bruv? I am coming too.

I like the word Fcuk.

2006-12-16T12:48:00.000+05:30

"non sunt in coeli, quia fvccant vvivys of heli"

I mean don't take it literally, its just the feel of it, the connotation that comes along with, so to say. I guess, like me, most people do not intend to convey the literal meaning whenever this horrible slang is used. And on the side lines, lets give the due credit to the popularity of the defamed word like it. The many versions, meanings and literal expression s of this word are undeniably present in almost all societies, cultures and languages- and if its not there then surely that society is not bound to exists. Does it not mean that its an important blunt truth of human nature ?And still we turn a blind eye to the universality and omnipresence of this poor soul. On one hand I even feel that why these words are called " slang's ", I mean put them in the dictionary folks, have some logic, if you don't have that, have a heart guys, theres a limit to the " beeps" and mute s sound s in the movies, I can bear. I mean the hero comes howling across seven shores and grabs the neck of villain and say, " You twisted - tun . tun- you." . Or like in a romantic scene in a hollywood flick, " oh honey, my baby, I so want to -tun- you". And you feel like any second your brain will split wide open.Why can't people see the clear futility of censorship ?

There are many words in this category - Shit and likes. But I must say I like this word Fcuk. I mean, its- good. The feel of it. The versaility of it is suprisingly amazing. The simplicity in usage with proper pronouciation makes it so user friendly in all situations. When you are like pissed off on something , you can scream Fcukkk. Sometimes, just like that you are sitting idle, no one around, thinking about something , out of no where, you might use it - Fcuk You. Emphasising each seperately and distinctly - Fcuk and then slowly You. And like you hear a tragic sad shocking news and you gather all the little energy in your voice and utter a meek - Fcuk . That-is-it. You convey your deepest, sentiments, feeling of loss and despair very clearly.

And like sometimes, you are driving car at 100 miles per hour, recollecting some embarrassing moment in past, a bitter burning memory, a beautiful past degraded and soiled by todays values and you shriek out so loud exhaling every thing ...FCUKKKKKK. Its does not come from your heart or brain , it s like straight frm the bottom of your guts, and out of now where you bang the car right ahead. This aggressive guy jolts out of the car looks at the bonnet and then at you , starts mouthing of , boasting and blabbering and you listen and listen and listen to the pompous bastard and after a while you can feel the agony surging in the guts, mind getting heavy, loaded, fatigued and blank ..and you shriek - FCUK YOU MAN. AND SMACK HIS FILTHY FACE. Relived. Like bloody gallons of pressurised air purged out from a tiny orifice. Peace. Now you following me. Tell me no where do you use the word to convey with a literal meaning. Rarely, rarely do you mean what you say. I most things in life I think thats true. There is a miles of difference in preaching and practising. :). So stop the fcuk lessons. I guess we should stop fcuking fooling around and lets stop pretending what we are not.

Also , I have noticed, for most youngersters and wanna be rebels, the usage of this mighty word starts like a style statement. But you got to understand the veiled glory of it. Now you know, my opinon , respect and affection for this word, but still I cannot use it in it s original form while I write this blog. Whyyyy ??? Because some moron in power, some or some good-for-nothing freaking CEO or MP or some one would not approve of it in public space. And at worst would censor blog and file a case against me! Which, of course, I don't want to happen. Really. Its my blog- it is my expression, it is my voice, I want it heard. I want it heard out loud and clear. So FUCK IT ANY WAYS.

So my lord, here I would like to rest my case and would request the jury to leave this word to its fate and at people discretion. At best I would recommend not to use the word with adjectives and adverbs. And if you don't like it, I don't care, Fuck that too.

Just set things free from your hypocrisy and prejudice.

"they are not in heaven because they fuck the wives of Ely"

P.S : I have not mentioned the usage of word "literally" in private space as in my opinion private space should remain private. On the other hand, the apporopriate use of this word in the personal domain has heightened excitement levels or so I was told. The author would not bear the responcibilites of goof-up by usage of this word.

Sometimes you just don't have anything to fight for.

Faeen Mornin fellas ....u naw wy tis faeen?

2006-10-16T11:01:00.000+05:30

Rocky Balboa: "What is it you said to the kid? The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It's a very rough, mean place... and no matter how tough you think you are, it'll always bring you to your knees and keep you there, permanently... if you let it. You or nobody ain't never gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't about how hard you hit... it's about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward... how much you can take, and keep moving forward. If you know what you're worth, go out and get what you're worth. But you gotta be willing to take the hit. "

Nick Cave:
you roll me at your sides
you shot me down
Though I had no enemy here
you get me very near and shoot me down
shoot me down
your hands they flutter up
-?-
and shoot me down... in flames

Stand back baby, stand back and let me breathe
I think I must be filin' outta here
I can hear the grass grow
I can hear the melting snow
I can feel your breath against my ear
I might just disappear
Yeah, wouldn't that be nice?
Yeah, wouldn't that be nice?
Well, wouldn't that be nice?

I look into your eyes
it comes as no great surprise
you're gonna shoot me down
shoot me down
I know that when you smile
it'll only be a short little while
Shoot me down... in flames

Shoot me down
in flames....
you're gonna shoot me down
shoot me down
shoot me down in flames
shoot me down in flames

Copyright infringement ! ...Shoot me down.

Dich.kyaun.

I always wanted to quit....

2006-10-10T21:28:00.000+05:30

On a Monday morning. Since That turned out to be a holiday. I quite on a Tuesday morning. But I have quit. The worrying part is I am developing this habit of quitting, that too important things in life.

And while I was having a sort of exit interview, as general discourse- the boss said, “ See, one either has to do things you like, or one has to like what he’s doing. That’s the funda in life. “ I was like ohh yeah. Fcuking great quote. But you ain’t G.B Shaw, bro. But I don’t know, for some reason the opening and closing lines of a movie came to my mind. May be I have been watching it over so many times that like a dark soot it has settled on my conscious. Or may be that I think those are very close to truth of a pedestrian life .

Opening lines ( Back ground Chris Barris ).

“ When you’re young your potential is infinite. You might do anything, really. You might be great. You might be Einstein. You might be De Maggio. Then you get to an age where what you might be gives way to what you have been. You weren’t Einstein. You weren’t any thing. That’s a bad moment. But I remembered something Carlyle wrote: “ ..there is no life of a man, faithfully recorded, but is a heroic poem of its sort, rhymed or unrhymed.” I realize my salvation might be in recording my wasted life, unflinchingly. May be it would serve as a cautionary tale. May be it would help me understand why?.

I too strongly believe the way my life is taking its course and if I’ll be recording it unflinchingly, it would be exactly that cautionary tale. I mean life mostly is like multiple choice question. Observe a few lives ( I can recommend a few ), you would not find right answer, but surely you can eliminate wrong options. And after all, solving multiple choice questions in a limited time requires more of elimination than finding the right answers. Having said that I must say, there are still a few blokes who would still experiment and learn it all the hard way. Sad !. But without them its not much fun right?.

Closing lines

“You know, I came up with a new game show idea recently. It’s called The Old Game Show. You got three old guys with loaded guns on stage. They look back at their lives, see who they were, what they accomplished, how close they came to realizing their dreams. The winner is the one who doesn’t blow his brains out. He gets a refrigerator. “

And here lies the gifted divine human virtue of hope. I kow a lot of people who would still fight dearly to win that refrigerator. People would miss out on so many little wonderful things, just to perform on their judgement day. Sometimes, people are so over-zealous as to the point of madness for seemingly trivial achievements. Its kind a funny. But I don’t know, feels like I want to wreck such peoples face.

I really think I do not gel into Darwins Theory. And I’ve found a new purpose in life. I want to be the advocate of the unfit. :)

P.S Quiz time for the curious minds. Do I regret my decision? Well no. Do I have any reasons, well, I’ve not started recording my life. :) Is my view one of pessimism? That reminds me of another line from the same movie:
“ Listen you are thirty two years old and you’ve achieved nothing. Jesus Christ was dead and alive by thrity-three. Better get cracking”. So the good news is, I’ve got a few more years to go. J. I am not pessimistic, but I am human ( yes I am ) in flesh and blood and meri bhi fat-ti hai.

Tell me which movie am i quoting ? :)

Adios.

Fading murmurs from the hole

2006-08-27T17:57:00.000+05:30

Location: Promised land

Time: 2.00 a.m

Its not that I am not used to be awake this late. I have done that a lot many times. But rarely does it happen when I feel so freaking numb. At this hour I have nothing beautiful and wonderful in life, to share with anyone. In fact, just a few moments ago I was thinking how it would feel to be in a hole. By hole, I mean to say the hole they keep talking about in the prison jails, and showing in the Hollywood movies. Do we ever try to actually feel such things as been holed up in just a small dark room with no light, no music, no books, no talks, no chit-chat, no noise and most of all no space to even maneuver your legs? And to keep you alive in the misery and suffer, on the platter there’s some filthy food and stinking water to drink. What would you do in such conditions? Would you be rendered capable to think?. If yes, what would you think?. Would you think about your past, cherish the wonderful moments you lived and bring a smile to your filthy face or would you think of the terrible sins you have done, the pain you have caused to the innocent sentiments, horrible things you have said in anger, people you have cheated, games you have played. Or would you just lie down cursing everything, every moment and every one in this world and venting out your anguish banging the walls with feet, trying to spread out a little. Or would you lie cursing, persuading and then begging fait or destiny or whatever sh*t to intervene for a little time, a little space. How would it be when your closed from the outside world and physically stretched to your limits? When you shriek out loud but theres no one to hear the cry. Left to listen only your own murmurs.

You don’t have to go to the hole to experience the numbness. A little of that you can feel lying on the bed, when there is so much noise in your head. The body keeps twisting and curling as if the mind has run freaking amok, incapacitated to give any single freaking instruction to control the senses. Whatever comforts be around it just won’t shut the system down and let you relax in peace. There’s craving for an external stimuli to make you f**king move to something somewhere, someplace. The muscles in the legs feel so unbearably uncomfortable, with the cramps that develop out of no where. Eyes keep burning for lack of sleep. The brain says-fcuk sleep, but something inside just wouldn’t relent to the command. An overarching urgency to quench your thirst, a desperation to fill the void with something. Something you seek from some place but down under inside, you know there is nothing to be found. There is no ultimate truth to be found. There is not hidden treasure of knowledge. You’ve spend your whole life seeking the knowledge of truth and all you could discover is death as the only certain reality. Before even you could find your so called fcuking purpose in life, you forsee the end of it, the clear futility of everything. The emptiness engulfs your mind. That’s what they meant, when they told, every action of yours is such a sheer waste of your precious little time, meaningless. The dawn of that factual reality is what would throw’s you rushing to the bottom less pit of numbness. Numb, you find you are so so so very betrayed and fooled in the world. And guess what, sadly you are going to serve this irrational, stupid, crude world and play the game all along.

With this harsh cruel realization you just stand up rush out early in the morning, trying to run from yourself. Alone you take a walk in the boulevard, lined with maple trees and the yellow leaves spread ahead of you. The river smilingly rushes besides. The burning eyes soothed with the site of sparkling river. You hear crackling of dried leaves under your feet, as if the nature whispering to you-there’s much more to the web of life, the mystery you seek to solve is not life, but its something between you and me. The cool breeze cleanses every inch of choked lungs with life. Willowing winds come with a distant laughter echoing the voices which said, you wanted to plant your garden and decorate your soul. The wind combing your hairs with its softness, swirls around like your lover, caressing your back, kissing on your neck and whispers with its warm breath, your quest is not for knowledge but for beauty, my beauty!. With your hands dug in your pocket, you walk along with her- Smile and then you both roar with silly laughter. Just like the first time you looked into her glittering deep eyes and smiled for unknown reason. All along your craved to absorb all its beauty finally you loose yourself in it. That’s when the shrieking cry submits to the mighty silence. You find solace in your dark hole and force a whistle to a song.

A day after I-day

2006-08-16T20:02:00.000+05:30

Do you know how many years of independence have we celebrated yesterday?. I do not know. And as of now in the night I have not bothered to do the reverse calculation, mostly because I do not like the date and time calculations. I have never bothered much for both-date and time. And have regretted that badly. But habits don’t die easily.

But, how many of us have read the celebrated “Tryst with destiny”?. At the stroke of midnight on 15^th August, 2006, I, for some reason feel elated to announce that I read it, then downloaded and listened to it. Having said that, I feel every one should go through it once. Even the very pessimistic and cynical will feel proud that at the stroke of midnight the nation had a leader with vision and motivation for a better world and could instill faith.

For some reason, I have always celebrated I-day. But its not that I have sporadic burst of patriotism on the very day, its just that I can really really feel the connotation of the word Independence and freedom chiming inside me. In my opinion, mostly everyone celebrates the idea that comes with freedom and liberty. As a free independent person, you get to do a lot of things you otherwise can’t ( and thats an awesome temptation). That’s the bottom line. And, I don’t think apart for the few remaining freedom fighters and veterans of the pre-independence era gathers the image of English leaving the country. That would be unrealistic. For me Independence day conjures of image of me standing alone at the peak of hill on a beach of white sand, a radiant sun shining over the blue sea, wind blowing through my hairs, engulfed in the vastness of the mystical horizon. Free from filthy world, politics, religion and boundaries. Mostly like the soul celebrating freedom from fear and doubt. Even if its for a day or a moment. On the side lines my opinion is that the most important independence is that from fear and doubt. If you have not better purpose in life, you can spend your life time struggling for the liberation of your soul.

Also, for some reason I do not know, but I-day has always been a more relaxed and joyous compared to any other celebration even my unfortunate birth day. Last year, the cute friend was not in town and my naughty self had a gala time. This year it has been with some difference. With certain promising signals which I perceive to a little extent are signs of better things to come. A friend against lot of odds, graduated, ready to take on an adventurous journey with eyes shining and my naughty self stands smiling and hopes she does well. We had these Brahma-kamals blooming at our house at the dawn of midnight. These are plants the flowers of which blossom at the midnight at brahm-muhurt and once in 6 years. A dawn complemented with flowers and fragrance. I stood silently for National Anthem in the theater prior to the movie KANK. Karan Johar has tried to deviate from the stereotype movies the production house is known for delivering. Though still with the characterstic colorful glamour. Whatever thats again a manifestation of changing times. And while I was driving down the long stretch of pot-holed road, I saw the MSRDC sign read “ Please bear with us for this monsoon”. It either sounds like a humble request and a quite sorry or it could be a blatant lie. But lets be optimistic. Atleast they are asking for a chance and every one deserves a second chance. After all this, there was hope and smiles and the realization of a wonderful holiday. And before the celebration has ended – Govinda Ala re...govinda ala. Its such a fun in being rawdy and naughty. A celebration of freedom.

Adios

Hazy dreams

2006-08-10T17:52:00.000+05:30

Laying on the silky bed
Head held in hands
Went back in the blissful cocoon
I, Sink into its softness
Wondering, how could time come soon?

The light pouring from pinholes
a screeching guitar in the sky
And, I had once thought
Of coming out like a butterfly.

A nursery prayer rhyme
Caught between a filthy world
And a beautiful life
In the roaring silence
That’s where thy place lies.

Trapped in the hollowed eyes
Still lays that beautiful child
Dreams of flight in dark clouds
Afloat on shimmering moon light

A rolling coin in time....

2006-07-05T22:33:00.000+05:30

Hazaron Khwaishein Aisi

Ki Haar Khwaish Par Dam Nikale

Bahut Nikle Mere Armaan

Fir Bhi Kam Nikale

I tossed it and lifes now a rolling coin in time. A long waiting.

The cute little friend said, “Jurm Chabuk Ki nishani se nahin pehchane jate.”

Its raining you know. And its so wonderful. Apart from this the funny part is I’ve become so pathetic that I have to rely on weather to save me.

Save me. Save me from the world. Hide in time and space. – That’s the kind of shit rain brings with it apart from the wetness. J.

Sawan ka mahina

pawan kare shor.

Jiaaare jhume aise. – Crap.

What you have is learning to fly and its playing in sky. And that’s when you know – you are fucked for life.

Did I say- fucked for life?. Jesus ! Lord, they want to tell, its me, who’s twisted?.

How audacious!. Why do I even bother. A piece of advice -look at youself, honestly.

All that we needed was right
The threshhold is breaking tonight

Open to everything happy and sad
Seeing the good when it's all going bad
Seeing the sun when I can't really see
Hoping the sun will at least look at me

Focus on everything better today
All that I need and I never could say
Hold on to people they're slipping away
Hold on to this while it's slipping away

That’s when you walk naked in front of the mirror. Ever seen a naked soul?. Tried to live every single moment of life and heres the moment where whole life passed by. Every one, everything, a fleeting second and you want to hold on to it so bad, so close to you and yet it does not matter.

Ahh, the laughter!. Wish you were here. Wish no one was here. Wish nothing was here. But thennn huff, you know, that laughter was so sweet. Keeps coming back. And some times you only give-a honest-smile to it.

Move on- is the logic, bro.

But damn it – Where?. Moved enough !.

Run on bro. Please. You are behind. Its for your own good.

Fuck you.

Angry. Didn’t mean to upset you.

No. Leave.

Its raining again.

Hide then!

No. She is coming for me. Please leave. Yeah, she’s coming for me-coming with all that I need and with all that is mine. And she is so beautiful.

Take it easy bro.

Long time man, I felt so complete.

Look!. He’s so much at peace. Not a care in the world. I was like that once. She’s bringing “me” back among the other things. And then not to mention, she herself is such a charm. She’s come for me. Waiting for the day she’ll take me along with her.

Analyze this

2006-07-04T09:53:00.000+05:30

Everythings physics. Here is something that I was going through after a long time and surprisingly I can see things in a different prespective. Nothing much just a little effort to find my postion in time and space.

" There are certain combinations of axially loaded members in which the equations of static equilibrium are not sufficient for a solution. This condition exists in structures where the reactive forces or the internal resisting forces over a cross section exceed the number of independent equations of equilibrium. Such cases are called statically indeterminate and require the use of additional relations that depend on the elastic deformations in the members. "

Not much but I've got a hunch I am thinking in right direction.

Adios.
Ankur

While I was talking...

2006-05-22T09:03:00.000+05:30

Suddenly I felt that some how I am drained of subjects to talk on to. Knowing my nature I can say that I was never talkative but I used to talk. Now, I do not even feel like it. Reasons are varied for this behavior, but, I reassure myself just like on most things in life- shit happens and forget it. But then the problem with reasonable men is that they keep finding reasons, mostly for trivial things in life. The conversation these days drifts something like this.

Me: “ hi boss how are you doing ?

Friend: “ Nothing yaar, bas chal raha hai, aur tu bata ..”

Me : « Kuch khas nahin, bas kat rahi hai «

Friend : « Aur kisi se baat hui ? “

Me: “ Nahin re… kafi din ho gaye “

Friend : “ Naukri chakri kaise chal rahi hai “

Me: “ Bass jab tak hai tab tak hai …bore ho gaya hun .. need some change….tu bata tera kya ? “

Friend : “ Kuch khas nahin .. college ki fees bhar di hai ..joining ka wait kar raha hu n… aur tu bol “

Me: “ Kuch nahin …aur bata “

Friend : “ Kuch nahin yaar pak gaya hun …tu bol “

Me; “ Koi movie shovie dekhi …”

Friend : Nahin yaar…wahi sab ..repeat kar raha hun …chod tu bol tune ?

Me: “ nahin yaar, crash dekhi ti …achi hai ..nice one..worth it ..tu dekh le aur bol…”

Friend: “ Aur daru pani … ? “ . ( This is the only question where we have that resonating frequencies. )

Me ( joyously ): “ First class… tu bol . “

Silence

Friend: “ kuch nahin , tu bata “

Me: “ Kuch bhi nahin yaar…chal fir mein phone karta hun ..fir ..theek hai “

This conversation would be like for 15 minutes with teeny-weeny bit intermingled with certain gender issues, personal problems, privacy issues, garnished with the Indian abuses. But rest assured, the heart and soul are with good intentions, clean, clear, honest and dead.

The fact is sometimes I feel like that old man on the bar stool playing with his glass of rum and sitting silently. Numb.

Apart from the realization that I am no longer social animal, the amusing thing is that the people whom I am acquainted are not social animals too, but animals they are. But I must admit once in a while, you watch the cute friend talking to another cutie, you feel like talking, socializing, getting to know each other, that kind of stuff. And suddenly, you have smile. Ah, happiness !. But don’t be too expressive in front of cute friend, or else, you talk, she listens and then only she does the talking and you do the listening.

At the end of the day, all I learn is that there are some people have an eye for trouble and will trespass the prohibited zone at any given opportunity, the best thing for them is to remain silent. You engage in discussions, make mistakes and blow your cover. So as for me I take comfort in the fact that anonymity is a great strength. And while mostly silence is deafening sometimes its just pure bliss.

Conversation With God

2006-05-04T11:41:00.000+05:30

No doubt technology has brought such a drastic change in our lives, a great culmination of ideas, creativity, cultures and lives. Look at blogging- irrespective or writing or reading them, the whole idea is so fulfilling and enriching. The whole of Internet is so much fun. I read a lot of blogs some known and unknown, related or unrelated without any prejudice like a fool and like its so overwhelming reading about social, political, cultural, some like daily diaries to some with mundane abstracts. Like an turbulent river over so many different lives. Like the web and network so much seemingly routine and stable but you can peep and look at so much chaos. One can share the focused ideas, the bubbling creative, the dark emotions and the maddening abstracts.

All of this is like watching a movie. We get involved in little ways in a few lives daily. And we must appreciate god must be working so hard on watching so many different movies getting played for him. I am sure, he cheers, cries and laughs with you (and mostly over you). And I know he sits, watches all our lives and seemingly does nothing about it. Often I feel angry about it. But to share the truth with you, I don't mind he not doing any thing about it, he is a good guy, a good friend and every one has short comings. I had a little chit-chat with him today morning, and as I recollect, he told me, "what should I do, I have been doing this for ages, there are so many of you and now I am really bored of this. I am no longer interested in this work, I want to change my job profile and tell me do you like your assigned work? No one does, - so chill, relax." So I asked, "Assigned task?. And I had squarely put it back to him. I told him, the whole damn problem in the world was no body knew what they are supposed to be doing, there was no clarity of goal, every one was seeking their purpose!. So he annoyingly lamented, "What purpose, what goals? hogwash. Why can't you all stop eluding yourself under the pretext of higher morals and purpose and all? If you guys could just live simple, honest, and go about with routine doing your work, and I could retire, but NO, you come here, forget your work and whine about it all the time, why don't you speak up when you are supposed too !. ". Suddenly he diverted to t.v he said, "Look, there has be an unfortunate incidence at Bombay fashion week!. See some one did not do his job properly, damn!, let me just monitor what happened! ". And he played and replayed. I intervened and asked, " But, you could have stopped it and you could have done so many things, after all you know the future ". Without looking at me, he said , " Listen, I do not know the future, there is no future, what future are we talking about here, my own future is jeopardized, the way rock-stars are shouting god is dead and the way this quota thing is going on soon they'll be talking having reservation for gods and the way you all resent me, I am losing support on the ground itself. I have got my own problems to deal with. Do you care for them?. No. Common, I have written no destinies, my dear, the defining thing is your actions, and I have told it so bloody many times, but still you won't work and look at you, tell me, what are you typing ? What is the sale for this month ? and he smiled and whispered, " I sometimes do not like to be questioned . Do you? "

Suddenly, I heard a voice. " Ankur, why the sales for last few months have been steadily – pathetic ? and what's that you keep typing all the time ? " .

Writing in haze

2006-05-01T11:03:00.000+05:30

"There aren’t any sins and there are no virtues, theres only stuff that people do".
And shit happens.

I personally believe that’s the present day reality and one has to live with the fact that- shit happens. Why do I say that? Well you know the reasons and if you don’t, just look around you and if you still can’t, keep reading this blog coz for one time I am going to convince you that you are deep in it.

As I see (and you’ll too someday) the world is governed by three forces- Power, Money and Sex. (I think Sigmund Freud was so obsessed with sex that he overlooked power and money). Also, going by the strength of these forces, I think Power and Money are far influential both qualitatively and quantitatively than sex. Once you hold power and/or money the third force comes into play like a natural or a forced draft and lets not feel ashamed about it- it’s been there since the dawn of the world. But then if you look at all these forces under microscope you’ll a common phenomenon underlying all the activity. And that is politics. And behold you have got the string theory.

Anyways, be it your admission to nursery school or to college (or be it your expulsion), in office, in your residential society, in soap operas, be it your marriage, in love triangles and polygons, in religious institutions, be it genocides on streets or in your bed- politics is all around you and inside you. You play it all along, day in and day out, you know why, because, every body wants to rule the world. Every body wants to screw the world-its way.

And you know what, after a while you get so fed up of it all around, so drained and somber playing the games. You start to see the clear futility of every single thing around you. But then rationality dawns upon you, the fact that, you don’t have much of a room in this world to avoid it. You get enlightened and accept the fact to the core of your heart- Shit happens. You smile and just like the day out of high school you went chupte-chupate and bought a ticket for that C-grade “Chameli ki suhagraat” and watch the movie – hoping for your purpose to be resolved and suddenly twenty minutes down your heart tell s the truth “kuch nahin hai yaar, kuch nahin hone wala hai!“ and you loose hope. But then you resolve to have fun while you are there. So you sit and, suddenly its all funny and you enjoy and watch the whole show till the end.

So, just lay back, and let the drama unfold. Enjoy the orgy going all around you. And if you are with apprehensions about morals, ethics and all, trust me, its not by choice that you came to the witness this show, it was your freaking destiny. And satisfaction was never guaranteed. Should I tell you what to do?.

It’s a long drawn battle, so just pull up your zippers.

P.S: I am freaking upset! . The post was meant for the launch of my new blog- Poli-tickling. I wanted to write something serious and positive and contribute my bit. But Shit happens.
Anyways , welcome to http://politickling.blogspot.com. Where we shall tickle with politics in day to day lives.

So they ask - whats up ?

2006-04-10T12:11:00.000+05:30

Dad: “Ankur, wake up ! . How much do you sleep ! . Get up .
Me: I slept late that’s why ?

Boss; “ You are twenty minutes late ! “
Me: Sir, actually my parents were discussing the prospects of my marriage.

Me: Hi , good morning , how are you ?
She: Morning…tell me why are you calling up so late ? You are late for every thing, why can’t for once you call on time for god sake.
Me: Oh …I am sorry, I was little busy.
She: Bla bla … Any ways, forget it, I love you, how are you by the way ?
Me: Hoof…, I love you to honey…I am fine….ok take care.
She: What ! You want to hang up !
Me: No actually..its just that.. I am little tied…
Click. Beep Beep.

Dad: Why do you come late from the office, every day. You have some sense of family responsibility ?
Me: Aaa….its just that coz, I began late, I finished late.
Dad: This routine will continue if you remain bachelor, I am telling you its high time….
Me: Comfortably Numb.

Life is a circus. Oh, I am sorry, I should not generalize- my life is a circus.Its like you swinging in the air, jump hold on another guy, than he realizes you and you go catch another female she holds you then she swings you and it goes on. And its only a matter of time before you have that mighty fall. And by the way, if you think your life is not a circus then I must admit- you are the finest joker I have come across.

Pistaul Jail Mein Aaa Chuka Hai...

2006-04-03T10:32:00.000+05:30

As promised to the gentry who visit this site...I am glad to present...

http://www.centaur.textamerica.com

:) as promised.

More to come..

Adios
Ankur

P.S: A part of the photo blog deserves to an unsung hero, thanks to the model. And there are moments treasured close to the heart but not been published for certain reasons, but they shall follow.

Thats me in the corner...losing..

2006-03-13T12:26:00.000+05:30

Shine on your crazy diamond!

A Clear glass of water

2006-03-04T01:46:00.000+05:30

Isn’t it a wonder that often its just transparent, odourless, tasteless but pure water that tastes so wonderfully sweet, quenching all the thirst, assuaging all the desires, relaxing all the evils, clearing all the doubts and yet energizes you to move on. And no matter how well prepared and blended that brilliantly shining, luxuriously sweet sherbet is, no matter how ornately presented, it just, does not do that magic. All it reflects is shallowness, with no depth, and seems so miserably helpless to fill that hollowness within and incapable in satiating your lust. Imagine that clear water out of the spring, gushing over the stones and pebbles and crisply running in that river, even the sight of it soothes ones eyes and makes your heart fill with beauty. And you replace that with any other beverage (be it bloody scotch) it just doesn’t fit, nothing takes its place.

And some times it just so happens that all you want is water to quell your thirst, absolve yourself, all you crave for is solitude- some time for yourself and peace from this maddening crowd and all you are served is a cola drink. And staring right on that drink, then looking around watching all those blinded around you, you feel so shallow, in complete, fatigued, so bland.

But then you sip it anyways, walk away and walk down the street, under the sun, whistling your favorite song, losing yourself in the crowd. And walking under the scorching sun, sweating you realize, even the perspiration feels so good on you, so close to your heart and so much your own and you find peace in the crowd, your solitude and love. Then you imagine, imagine the clouds over you, the cool breeze blowing on face, look above, it comes splashing on your face, on your eyes, engulfing you in natures beauty, washing your tears, absolving your sins, melting you in nature, freeing your mind and liberating your soul.

All the time, you beseech your pure water.

P.S: Although early, I am now eager for the monsoons to arrive. Get clean and start afresh.

Adios

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY

2006-02-26T10:49:00.001+05:30

There are two kind of people in this world:
First are those who follow me,
Second, who do not follow me and go to hell.

P.S: Things will not remain the way they are.

Adios,
Ankur

Pigeons behind the billboard

2006-02-11T21:02:00.000+05:30

The front of the Bill board carries a beautiful feminine face but behind it I was particularly amazed by the fluttering hundreds of pigeons. Hundred s of them behind the bill board just like a thousand emotions, memories, dreams fluttering and some where in the middle of the crowd a white sparrow with its pristine purity, trying to save the little sanity that is left about this pandemonium.

On Marriage and Love

2006-01-30T23:51:00.000+05:30

I am, they say at the ripe age to get married and settled down. Candidly speaking personally I have never given much thought to the idea, I never found any reason to waste my precious time on such trivial subject.  . But, yes, at times the thought creeps in. Repeated persuasions can do the worst of the psychological damages.

As on my marriage all I know, its that internally I am resisting the idea. Logically speaking I am not prepared for it. For one, I am uncertain about my financial stability. Second, I am uncertain about the course of my future (which is because I am uncertain about my purpose and I am looking for something better). Third, I am not sure if I can sustain the burden of responsibilities, expectations and aspirations that come with the relations. Fourth, I do not think that any person will sustain with my eccentricities and vices. Fifth, I think I need time and as such I feel I’ve crossed the ripe age. 

So here in the black and white I can put five valid sound reasons why I am taking a break and deciding as of now against the argument. And if you note, I am uncertain about for all the important things that make up ones life and even a day and I am aware about that fact ! .

And I would appreciate if some one can give me five better reasons for any one to get married. Let me list a few that I get.

The only conspicuous argument that I have found is that one requires a long term partner to give you a shoulder when the ripe age is gone and you are just hanging on waiting for sands of time to wash away your existence (Bingo!), when you are crippled and senile. If that is the reason for which should get into that institution of marriage, I would better opt out (for that matter sometimes “drop out” is an alluring idea). But, picturing the future when you are incapacitated mentally and physically and are ever so lonely is the only strikingly naked truth that which sends butterflies fluttering in my stomach. But, tell me honestly, does this is argument sound appealing to base any of your decisions. Pragmatic it is, but, does it have even a slight pinch of passion. It does not. Here lies a choice and hence the trouble and you know which way I shall sway. And tell me why in gods name do they need a opposite gender bound to you to take care of you. Where will be the friends? (Off course crippled !). But does it not raise the question on the credibility of friendships!.

So is it love?. Here it is the most complex and yet the most interesting of the subjects. All though it is does not take great horse sense discovering that the correlation between marriage and love is not universal especially in India where the gender ratio is disappointingly pathetic. Any ways the question is Love does it exist? In my opinion yes it does. It is a wonderful feeling and those who are loved or are in love are the blessed one. Then the question is – is the how much of it constitutes in a marriage. Arranged marriages as is implied and for all practical reasons do not lay any foundations for marriage. In those it is nurtured later on. As I perceive your choice is too narrow, the decision is mostly based on long-term stability and security of the boy and the girl. For the couples it is driven by desires (-applies to predominately Indian males ), excitement, anxiety and to a little extent dreams, which off course like most things in due course of time get faded and the only residue is mutual responsibilities (good thing), and hidden sufferings to be passed on the progeny.

Do love-marriages constitute any love?. Yeah of course dude! .Then tell me if you were in love, then why marry? Is it because of the social norm- then why did they have this social norm? Was it a guarantee (a society cover how ever weak) against the social vices and insecurities that have crept in. And if at all it was to impose a moral obligation or a deterrent then why was such a deterrent required in first place?- to put it bluntly it was to put a curb on the most profound of human thought process ( for I refuse to put the way – to give stability to society and stuff). Most of all I think it is just a formality which comes with defined roles, freedom and responsibilities. And in the middle of all this pandemonium I think love-marriage is compromise made to assuage the society but nothing wrong with it after all if every ones happy whats wrong?. My point is I do not see any strong causal rational linkage between love and marriage. Still as for love it is a wonderful feeling, exciting and adventurous, you just do not know how deep the rabbit hole goes! ( Will give you a hint it goes to H ) . Still its worth a ride!

Finally, let us find the reason why this institution was ever erected. Eve is the culprit – right answer! and we are all here to suffer so why make another progeny suffer. Why pass on the punishment? As the agent said, Is the only purpose of human kind to spread like virus and consume all the resources?.

Anyways, the only meaningful idea I have found is that-life is a gift given by mother-nature and that this gift should be embraced and taken as it is. Agreed life is a gift and it is beautiful. The fact that remains in the oblivion is that, life in its entirety with all the profound human feelings, good or bad, is a gift and is beautiful if perceived that way. We were all born free and all free men/women/eunuch have their own choice. The only responsibility is do not infringe on other peoples freedom. I have a choice. And with out writing all the hogwash above I could claim, I have made a choice and I will exercise it on my whims and fancies.

I am not afraid lying old, shriveled, sick, tired, lonely and waiting. But I am scared of the pairs of wrinkled wet eyes that can change it all. I am the progeny.

Some one said, “Civilization, after all, is defined by what we forbid, more than what we permit”.

P.S: After a lot of deliberations I can tell you there is no friendship, love, marriage nothing- all you have is compromises, politics, bosses, sick work loaded Monday mornings.
More of the above discourses shall be continued……when I am waiting for the trucks to be loaded and dispatched.
Also, my apologies, if I have hurt the sentiments of any one. And also for people who might get influenced by my ideas- You need to visit a psychiatrist and if you find one giving therapy for free please do tell me.

10 of 50

2006-01-09T09:12:00.000+05:30

Kick starting the day. Tried to call up a friend to wake him up and make him study for test. Good intentions but no response ( they seldom get ! ).

Finally in the early hours of morning I decided to go to market and buy myself a hands-free for the mobile. Once in chembur market I realized that I was too early, the shops would open only at 10.00, after wandering around for some time, I saw the shop keeper opening the shutter. Confidently I walked to him and inquired about whether he keeps the corded ear phone for Nokia. I realized the guy was so delighted, he had not even opened the shutter and the customer was knocking on the door. Quickly he lit the agarbati , parnams to Laxmi devi, I asked him , “ How much ? “ . “Rs. 250 only”, he said. Tickling with the wire, with out looking at him, I asked if he accepted Credit Cards. He did not say a word. I asked him again and he just nodded for a no. Reassuringly I asked him wheres the ATM and delighted he guided me to the one close by. Finally I came out of the shop, went to a Panwaddi, had 1 Gold Flake Lights, 4 Halls and 1 Rajnigandha Pan massala, shelling out 10 of 50 bucks in my pocket-the only 50 bucks I have in pocket, in bank and with friends also and like a king walked to the car and drove for work. I realized that’s what I have been rated in life 10 of 50, that s what are the odds in favor of me, that’s what my life is 10 of 50 !

P.S : Later in the night I watched Matchstick Men. A must see Con movie. The o Con movie that drags you so close to humane feelings and within fleeting seconds hits you where it hurts the most and reminds you of the truth- You have to reap what you have sown.

Adios.

Targets 2006

2006-01-01T11:55:00.000+05:30

Originally ,I had planned to compile my targets and wishes for the next new year before this day, but as usual I am doing it at the last moment. I wanted to put some mind into it, but still, chalta hai. So lets get over with this is also.

Quarter I:

1. Savings 20 K, at least.
2. Concentrate on job.
3. Learning a lot more on photography and will try to take some exotic pictures . Put your dirty minds to rest. Something like early morning driving to Churchgate or priyadarshani park, or just to see the pretty females with flowers on their way to Mahim Church and hope that one of them shows me the way to laundry. Ahhhh..
4. Start exercising. I need it desperately. ( Even the cute friend is frowning on my paunch ) Hmm. Target reduce 5 kgs.
5. Seriously contemplating to join guitar class or some language class.
6. Lot many blogs to be posted.
7. Small vacation break to – either of three- Goa, Kerela, Kashmir. Any one interested do call me.

First quarter as an whole I foresee a lot of excitement and activities.

Quarter II.

1. Join either guitar class / language class. This should be a must. The whole thing has been in abeyance for quite some time, now.
2. Buy an iPOD
3. Savings to touch 50k.

Quarter III:

1. Quit the job.
2. Focus on CAT.

Quarter IV.

1. Buy a Laptop.
2. Chirstmas and new year break will definitely be out side Mumbai. Some place, some where beautiful.

All these to be reviewed on a quarterly basis of course, and also please note the plans are subject to changes at the owners discretion ( which is based on two variables of money and time ) . But any how I shall try to stick to the KRA as above. And make the new year as interesting as possible. And trust me many surprises shall follow ( I see the eyebrows rise. Its such a teasing thing- the surprise !! ) . May god be with me.

Touché

Wishing all Happy New Year

2006-01-01T11:43:00.000+05:30

Rise and shine and welcome brand new year. Some will welcome it waking up pie-eyed and some with a fresh mind and heart. I am the unlucky one who is going to welcome the year waking up early and fresh .

I did not party yesterday night. After a long time, away from the howling crowd, dancing and partying over my head, I spent my new year in my small room trying to connect the net ( which of course did not connect ) and then sleeping. Not very exciting but I am just trying to find the silver lining.

No matter about the kind of celebration. I see this year as very important for a many of us. First, two of our colleagues are going to finish their MBA s and have already got the jobs. Our best wishes and congratulations to them. I am keen on seeing one of them married this year. I am sure he will not disappoint me. Best wishes for that also. As far as settling with life partners is concerned, I think many of us will be closing on to it or atleast the thought will start seeping in the minds.
A very few of us are going to give an entirely new direction to their lives, they all have best of my wishes.

Over all may this new year bring all happiness, success, stability and peace. Amen.

Amchi Mumbai

2005-12-29T14:19:00.000+05:30

A few pics that were taken. This is where Mumbai begins. Will definetly show where it ends- Just like life.

Adios

Last but not the least

2005-12-23T09:48:00.000+05:30

It looks straight at you. Just to be kissed.

P.S: I think I am 50% on this years Wish List ( which off course is deleted to be reviewed and I am little content.

On google

2005-12-17T14:58:00.000+05:30

Check this out. Search Ankur Chauhan on google. Look at the first link. I feel so content. Tara ram pam pam. After a long time a little motivation.

P.S: I am not too sure if I only got the surprize !!! Right now a little high in air.

LIFE

2005-12-10T01:07:00.001+05:30

Some little things are wonderful and one must learn to respect that. I remember when I was in school after a game of foot ball or cricket (during the P.T periods) we used to lie on the ground on our back in the sunny sky unfettered about the world the white shirt and embarrassing half grey pants. We relaxed and it was so wonderful. And some times away from the city lights in villages lying on the terrace, watching the stars, boasting about constellations, talking to my cousins. Basically just lazing around with a curious mind and no worries. For the whole universe in the front for me.

Its been long since I have laid my self on the open grass field. And how the preferences change, now, I will prefer night sky over a sunny day and would love it if no one is around even observing!.

But at times it all just happens. I laid myself in the cool breeze, sighing the deep breadth and disbanding myself, melting in the nature. Its like running from the world, rushing to the edge, you take a free fall from the terrace and suddenly find your wings and fly like a kite.

And life is worth. But as the Captain said, "Earn it".
.
.
.

And then the sun so ever harshly shines. Like ur nostrils fill with sands. The alarm bell rings and with that starts all the ticklings in the mind. As some one said, just like pieces of glasses in my head. The dream is gone , the child is gone. Review meetings, preparation for exhitibitions, tough day. The flight of fancy is over and the kite is tired needs to land now.

This is life. I do not know if its worth.

Adios
Ankur

Sandeshe Ate hain ....

2005-12-02T06:00:00.000+05:30

News has arrived from Amrica- My first digital camera has been brought-It’s a Sony DSC-H1 ( 5.1 MP , 12 x optical zoom ) . From here on will begin my trials on DSLR likes. I am very keen on getting my hands on my new gizmo.

Sweet taste of globalised world, isn't, Japanese product, bought in US and shipped to India. For me this is going to be first time of routing something from outside and I am liking it.

And soon to come a photo blog. ( Ding-ti-ding ! ).

Touché !

P.S : The payment for the cam is due ! Still the joy is overwhelming. It’s the first major investment I would be making after 3 freaking years ( Sounds little pathetic ?! ).

Shake ya bum bum..

2005-11-25T21:02:00.000+05:30

Last Sunday every one was focused on the entrance test and later its analysis. Literally every one from graduate onwards – aspiring young and worried older ones virtually every one was focused on the test. I also played my role well. Confidently smoking cigarettes I drove to the test centre along with my friend, looked for my center, took my seat, diligently worked on the test for 2 long hours and came out, smoked a cigarette and went back to home. And this I have been doing for last 3 years. Every time cursing my happy-go-lucky, casual nature or rather every time reminded of my incompetence (which I believe is increasing). But each year during this time, just like that puppy, I gather all the courage and leave the test center with renewed energy and determination to come back.

And to my surprise, I have a lot of well wishers. Immediately after the test, I started getting calls from curious people wanting to know about my performance. I hope they all read this and surely their anxiety would be put to rest.

I have only one concern left, with every passing day, I am getting older and older and too senile to bear this humiliation. I don't want to end up like Naseeruddin Shah in Iqbal or may be I just want to be that. ( By the way Naseeruddin Shahs name in the movie was Mohit ! kinda cute just like the movie isn't it ? ).

Adios.

Hmmm...

2005-11-13T11:45:00.000+05:30

Falling from the skies,
Thrown in the winds
Swaying in all directions
I did not have any wings

You can see the world
On my face,
Engulfing its beauty
On my shinning maze

Splashing on tender leafs
Fleeting second of love and lust
After a long slide and the rush
Finally seeping in the dust.

Pure Shit!
Adios

Few mins in retrospection

2005-11-02T11:04:00.000+05:30

Some people around me noticing my unusual behavior patterns ask what has happened to me and I only have an empty smile. They are amused by the idiosyncrasies that I have been -for some “portraying”. I must admit there are changes in me for substantial proportions since my school days. The reasons well I cannot put my finger on. I do not know any thing about the peculiarities in me, my friends and all and frankly speaking I till now never gave much shit to it.

But today I try to find a few reasons in retrospect. Like why did it at all happen to me. Instead of using ‘me’, I would use ‘we’ now on for I think I am not alone here. Why suddenly did we become so enervated and reticent? Probably the answer lies in the days we have spent in college. Though the time spent during that time is unjustifiable ( to great extent wasted ! ), I must admit enjoying living in this poignant nostalgia. In fact, I have been always enjoying it. Those days there was a feeling of calmness, carefree attitude and of bliss, of course along with ups and downs and downs. We liked our companions. Some liked the junkies, some liked the archetypes inflated genius, some liked to live in the poignant love hate relationship, some were sensitive, emotional and yet struggling to portray the hard face and head-strong mature personalities. Some just had romance courting girls and caring for them and had their own set of issues to deal with. And some just romanced with the idea of life and its beauty.

Each one had a way of life, but lately I am of opinion that every one wanted ( and every one wants ) to differentiate ones self from the rest even at the cost of defying the original self (at least I wanted to differentiate) and may be that s the constant struggle still going on. A couple of us thought we were like the scumbags of the society but still who were commanding authority and respect in the circles because of the sheer bond of friendship and common ideals- typical out cast pariah cowboys, though after a close notice of the recent developments I will outright reject the idea (for I see the so called common ideals eroded or manipulated). I am not sure, if I am right but I strongly believe we got and still are too carried away with the idea of differentiating our self. Mostly I think, it was and still is a search for identity. Over and above we were being brought up in a post naxal era with a state lost in economic disasters, confused in art and literature and trying to preserve regional snobbishness( which was embraced and given due credit) . And amidst of the cultural and personal pandemonium there were people of immense potential, vibrant, incredibly ambitious but with no clarity of goals and severely lacking on resources to build upon individual talents. They chose, made decisions and became furiously independent and untamed animals. Those disturbed minds are still out there seeking for their identities. So many masks have been worn that the real face is lost. We are beseeching the answers and there are none to be found. Still trying to find the sense in the our actions and the world per say. Mostly, it’s the realization of the sheer futility of the routine that haunts us, if not us-at least me. I do not see the world as open space of possibilities but that of puzzle board where I have to fit in and that is not acceptable. Every thing has been done and has become just cliché. With not able to find that adventurous unexplored paths which can glorify our living, differentiate from the rest and give a sense of originality and identity we seem empty, shallow and lost. Perhaps that’s the reason that we cling to the past where we were running alone in a race, each pursuing their idea of righteousness and being content. Now time has to shake the nostalgia and move on. But with an idea, dream or mirage whatever chased so vigorously and remaining unfulfilled can be horribly haunting. The only solace I find is in silence and solitude (and I know I am not alone here), at least as of today.

But I can’t tell give this argument to the people asking me those stupid questions. So for them I show my middle finger ..|.

And may be it would not be that bad an idea to get back to ourselves and be just another guy, try to be little modest and less bombastic about the intellectuality stuff and may be just for a while chase our interests ( with clarity ). Yeah, may be that’s what we need to do. Chase one by one things we wanted to do. But need to figure out about resources? Damn it.

Now, its suddenly that I feel a little enlightened. Time for some boiled eggs and drinks. Adios.

Happy Diwali

2005-11-01T16:39:00.000+05:30

I have not burst any of the fire crackers for last 3-4 years, at least not the one with that ear bursting noisy ones. The reason for it is simple I have become very compassionate with animals especially dogs- kutte. Last time when we were a little high and all and the crackers bursting around, it dawned on me how much suffering the poor pets go through. I mean give it a thought – a dog who is so sensitive to the slightest noise of footsteps or even the crawling lizards and you burst that heart wrenching cracker right in front of him, that must beat the shit of the poor soul. I mean just try to put your self in place of that dog (and believe me you can do it !), those eyes watching the ugly kid joe lighting up that Atom Bomb and get the movie rolling, you start backing of in anticipation and then feel that shudder- a roar and then you start howling. Damn they both are cruel who burn these fire crackers and those who make them ( and make them so costly before even firing them up you can piss in your pants.). If that s not vivid enough think the other way round- you walking towards a chicks house front gate and then that sudden roaring german shephard out of no-where barking at you. Yeah now the animal lover is gone, but think of the shudder and that palpating heart.

And since the day I dreamt about the dogs and cats and birds and thinking of burning the crispy green notes I have stopped doing this nonsense. I can't afford this any more. Its easier to go down the building socialize, meet friends, watch the pretty girls, and teach the little kids to light crackers and be content. And if possible while bursting those noisy bombs and all, try to stand near a chick , she just might shudder and turn around and all.....the dreams may come true.

But I am now grown up, this time around I will stand 4 meters far from the bursting point and measure the sound level. It should not be more than 125 decibels according to the cpcb ruling. Its just like having your fundamental rights read out by Indian police. We have rules for everything and excuses to avoid just about any daring act.

And no more further gibberish - time to sleep.

And yeah, Happy Diwali to all of you, have a nice holiday.

A wicked pedestrian

2005-11-01T15:16:00.000+05:30

She likes the good guys
But I ain’t one
But she likes the bad boys
And there are none
We are all his creations
And I swear, he’s having great fun.

I told her to love me
And she gave me a good one,
I thought she wanted me
But she wanted a better one
So I said go ahead and f*&k him
For hes the guilty one.

Foolish Chase

2005-11-01T09:55:00.000+05:30

I saw a light far away
I thought I had found my way.
Walked and ran,
Tired and drooped
I tried to crawl,
To find the truth,

The light never moves,
Neither does it fizzles,
I run like a rabbit and crawl like a snail,
To reach for the glow
Unblinking eyes till the last nail.

Ek Chote se break ek baad

2005-10-31T22:34:00.000+05:30

Hazaron Khwaishein Aisi, ki Har Khwaish par damm nikale
Bahut nikale mere arrman, fir bhi kam nikale.....

First of all, I must admit I am happy today. I realised that my late blog was read ! All though by a few known friends, still I am too glad. I just feel like an artist whose work is at least noticed. :).

Any ways for those who do not know, my blog was deleted coz of a slight mistake of pressing the delete blog button. It is only quite amusing that its on these moments that the " Warning Page " or the " Page not found " things doesn't happen. In one stroke a piece of memory, a little effort towards creativity, a little diary just wiped away. I feel sad about it, I really do. But then with a heavy heart I must say, Life moves on. And may be its a new begining for better thing s to come. Tosh !

Alas ! I must admit the time I am typing this I can't see the Publish Post button.

Life is Beautiful.