August 15, 2008

Mrs. Pratibha Patil...

At the midnight of 15th August 61 years ago A man addressed to a sleeping nation with hope and golden words full of inspiration, motivation and what not....Par Saale ke paach minute ab tak nahi huye...
Yup the nation is still drowsy...guess who?? [Don't stare at the Nepali] well that one called India by the rest of the world and Bharat by its own people. Now I know that you are completely up and alert by 11.59 in the morning ready for a healthy brunch. But have you happened to gaze at the unnatural phenomenon called "President's speech addressing the nation."??
Aaah..!! You have faint glimpses...of the t.v. and the morning mist...then some soft music playing far away...and then you sleeping off on the cold bare floor only to be woken up by the maid's broom's tickle up your nose...yes yes...Something like that.
Now I'll tell you frankly that I never had what it takes to win the I-day challenge. But I do try every hell time.

Mrs. Patil...What a wonderful voice you've got...its really the gift of your unfortunate god. And by the way, do YOU write the speeches?? or that is done by someone else... .. .. Well I just wanted to check if you ever put any effort to that nationwide live telecast...had that speech been even a syllable long...I tell you all the recivers and the satellites and set top boxes would have exploded or hammered or shot themselves to death. Really.

So were you the head girl of your school or some thing?? or the one who has to face the brutalities of the morning 'ass'embly readings? If you are then you share my sympathies...Cause you really can't help but boring people...The sheer trauma of the thing is very great you see.

Well it started something like...I cant remember...but I do remember some small famous lines.
"..We shall not succumb to the terrorists..."
"...Our country will not let the scourge of terror..." *yawn*
"..We will shine eco....and we will lead th..." *bloody really yawns while typing...pinky swear*

Its mediocre writing...but the desperate way you read it all from the ticker...its just pathetic. Really can see her eyes move when she talks...So what to do? you are the...WoMan nothing can be done about it.

*Man I really like the parade and stuff...but we really need a good speaker...the one who turns words to motivation...not motivation to sleep.*

And we all fall down.

Do you have an mp3 player?? Do you use any compression suites?? Well you're quite familiar to technology if you are reading this even if you may not understand this. Well I like to write in my blog and be read [which seldom happens].

Why's this guy talking about technology now?? Does he have something against it too?? Damn I wish He stop being such an asshole and get a life...

Hey, I can't do any thing about the asshole thing but certainly can get a life. So what is the purpose of my life that has made me so meagerly 'suck'cessful?? Well I like pissing people off and taking the other way round while getting things done.

Well getting back to technology. Well I don't hate it. I fear it...for one day it may take over us and the humans as we have known will be extinct. I...frankly don't have love for my fellow humans and all...seriously all that's totally gay...but I kinda like the stuff about being a bit human; you know the human spirit and the mind over matter and the iron will stuff...I like that...probably...I said probably the only thing in humans I like. And the technology my friends is robbing many people of that thing...not all but many people...mostly children. That is scary...way too scary than a naked Osama Bin Laden.

Think about it this way...we are making a pyramid in such a way that to make the upper level we have only the help of the current level we built. Up untill now we have been safely keeping the lower levels strong by maintaining them these are the basics that are very essential for our survival. But now due to that exponential growth and exposure to new and new appendages that augment our performance we are neglecting those basic levels...Not exactly conciously but the immenseness of the elevation, the power upgrade given to us by these things is making us unaware of the true human spirit...I mean its too fast enough and its getting faster.

Its making children believe that the person with the fastest car is the winner...the nation with the biggest nuke rules...but its not that...there have been instances where using those limited resources and achiveing much greater heights...progress was taking ourselves to the next level not acquiring the next level augment. We are not into robots but into empty cans...with nothing inside. And the easiest prey to this are the little ones...who never get to explore their own abilities or limits...

We are creating a fragile world that can be blotted out of existance in no time...and the worst part is that we are depending on it too much...standing on something that is not ground...

Instead of discovering our true strength we now make the strength of the gadgets our own...The light that is stolen always betrays its master.

So don't shun tech altogether but know what you are doing with it...know what you really are.

The Chaos theory.

People here I am. For a brief vacation even before the college starts. Do you know about the "Butterfly Effect"? I'll tell you. It is hypothised that if in one part of the world a Butterfly flaps its wings, it may cause a cyclone in some other part of the world...thats how you describe Chaos theory. The means to underestand the uncertinity the world is shrouded in.

Think about it. What is everything around in?? Chaos or cosmos?? Suprificially everything seems very calm and perfectly engineered the work of god!! But as we move to the intricacies we find that there are serious discomforts in the system. There are individual systems think about them as functions in infinite dimensions [that every line possible is an axis of the system] And in such a system various functions are creating "graphs" of themselves with use of the system's "resources" or co-ordinates. Now there is dense possibility that every graph will interact with atleast one more graph by the means of sharing and using or controlling the resources. This will give rise to a number of diffrent flavours of plots that will no llonger be the representation of pure funtions but a changed one...sometihng more optimum at that spot and time. Can you even faintly picture it?? Mess right?? More's to come.

Now we cannot also shun the possibility of another function that is the basic property of the whole system i.e. it affects the whole system [all of the infinite resources.] And this also comes in flavours...hidden and visible [to the functions] For example take the rotiation of the axis or the shif of origin these are visible system functions and for hidden you have distortion of length or definition of length on which the functions have no control over. So over and all its very chaotic.

Such is the atmosphere where the true might of Chos theory can be seen. One small incident, starts off a chain of events and by the proper placement of resources it aquires some significant significance. And in a chaotic world this can last from one millisecond to a millenium and the consequences can be negligible or catostrophic. But one must be the condition on which it can be...each and every functions should be unaware of such a chain reaction and its happening or its consequences or the chain will end abruptly.

And If we can control such a phenomemon [we can only control what we can initiate] then there will be alot more efficiency in our work and there will truly be nothing as impossible.

August 3, 2008

To Bid You farewell...

I don't know what has happened lately with me, but I have stopped believing.
Believing In dreams and ambitions, No sentiments seem strong enough now...really cherry pie...really...

Once I had believed that I am the one, Someone special, someone to do things no one else can...But now I feel What a Fool I'd been.

Time has swept me to a place where none of this holds true, the one to blame is me, no one else.
My father.... he has been a good father compared to others, keeping aside the things I had with him, I keep them aside because they are not that huge that they can overshadow all the good things he has for me.
Yes, he has done things that had hurt me, they still do...but I have to look at the whole record.

Now came a time when I see myself nothing different than the rest of the world, no more beautiful. Still perverted to selfish desires, still the ugly little human...the child is no more...
The child's innocence lies in his tears....
Those are no more.
beauty no more.
The Beautiful demon that was...Now No more...

And such is the time also that I have to bid farewell to my companions of this silent dream.
a dream that we had all shared...A sonata of mellow notes...but I think...No one could tune the piano right, and thats the reality...

Coarse and misplace notes, Silence and murmur....

Nothing left to fix, all has gone beyond the threshold of mend. My only hope is that...If we separate....we meet together in another dream...more melodious than this one or less...but one more time.

I finally accept that the gig is up...the curtains must fall or the stage will lay to waste.

No longer longer as subtle.
Here goes another apology.
Ma'am I was not present at The Friendship day...And I did not bring my Absen-note.
Well, I seriously don't feel like meeting anyone at this time, for a strangely unknown reason,
too much stress perhaps??
Well being the pessimist that I am, I'm writing this apology in a very somber state, un-intoxicated,
Maybe I'm feeling a bit depressed.

My special apology to Anna Bhai,
Sorry man. I will feel bad about this later, after 2 days have passed.
And I will feel worse for not wanting to meet you after reading that wonderful poem you wrote.
And all the efforts that you put in on meeting me.

To Cherry Pie,
I feel very empty.
I don't know if anyone can ever do about this.
Loving you...

I do not expect forgiveness.
Just a contraption to cover my guilt.
so....This is it...
Sorry for ruining your friendship day.

July 19, 2008

The pillars of light

Bones and a brain,
Clothes of skin with pin holes.
Staring to grasp the the time that they've lost.

A secret nothingness, dark silence its essence,
Hostile and numb, the soul has become.
As the sad runs down,
he forgets to invert the Glass,
The day and nights pass...

A cube of light, of picture and sound.
The compelling visions, its sorry side.

The Lion King dies,
The reflection of a tear on the screen,
But no lips move and the stream of thought
Gets washed.

No memory,
No significance.
The sand was far before emptied.

The soul does not die.
There is a conversion.
A black hole...A hole.
Devouring anything and taking its color.

The child inside never got a chance to breathe
To feel the breeze.
To know where is he,
And be what he wanted to be.

Cannot say,
Cannot blame.

A new order of these children,
The followers of the Pillar of light.

It gives them a reason to live.
Their world to conceive.
A minute, tender hole.
Thats all...their soul.

When the plug is pulled off,
They know not what to find out.

Piece after piece.
The jigsaw falls down.
The pillar no longer sound.
No longer able to hold the falling pieces down.
The face in the darkened screen is unfamiliar.

The sand has flowed too long,
And they let themselves drown.
no call of distress.
No one to answer the call.

July 17, 2008


I got tagged...
But you know I liked getting tagged this time.
So here goes.

**8 Things you absolutely don't know about me...ABSOLUTELY!!!
  1. Ok. I'm tagged.
  2. I've two eyes and two ears and single mouth and single nose.
  3. I see with my eyes and hear from my ears and my mouth is the spot where some things go in and some things come out and I smell form my nose.
  4. I am a GUY....BOY...A Male Being.
  5. I wear clothes.
  6. Then....I can type real took me 3 hrs to get to this....most of the time was spent on thinking...*thinks*...almost 0.999909 seconds.
  7. I know How to Use the Compiter...*stares*... really!!!...tere c.p.u. ki kasam sacchi!!! I also know how to use the intarnett...really.!!! *sigh*
  8. I love Cherry Pie.
Now all you worthy enough to own a Web Logging Privilege must go and enter an entry.
Go now...Mine shall be done.

P.S. Not applicable to the person who tagged me.

*clears throat*
*Goes to pee*

*They *that* *Rhymes**
(Now thats a hell lotta stars!!!( aint them?!! (really!!!( see!!(hey that rhymes again!!)))))
And thats ahell lotta brackets...
Me thinks Me Should Stop.
People must be reaching for their knives...


July 13, 2008

The still breath over my skin,
Rose petals over the candles,
The tear on that purple orchid.
And my ethereal arms around you.

Don't you cry my Love,
This night is not too long,
And with the sun I must leave the bay,

Lipskin touch,
So long I hope to keep,
...Till you never feel my absence,

Nothing ever remains,
But seasons do come again.
And when the scent of rains remind you of me,
I'll be right by your side.


Its for you Gundi.
I'll always be with you, never you worry.

July 11, 2008


A cold willow leaf,
Sticky blood in ice crystals -
Reminiscent of that bygone battle.
Silent eyes meet, without hesitation greet.

Where were they yesterday's day?
Droplets of the same cloud.

A moth between them,
Dust of sleep.
Gold dust.

Mirrorscreen: Blood stains recreate.
The killer moth, kills with quaint silence.

The war's just a scar,
A paint on body's wall.
But the smile of the unmet acquaintance,
Passing by...
Is hard to beat.

Of the days bygone...
Just the sigh remains.

The Dragon's Descent.

The city was bustling,
Clear cold sun, sweat and dust sludge.
Frustrations capped under the civilized cobblestones,
The traveler looks above.

The sky cut and bled, the clouds of morn
Came in haste.
A tornado of blue
Touched the mortals' plane.
And scarlet silhouette descend.

The trees looked up,
Cloak of dust unburdened.
Traveler looks and smiles,
While no one cares to wonder.

No one makes their way,
To the Heavens' hand.
No one bothers any attention pay.
Oh, ants are blind they say?

Wise steps tread lonely,
The welcoming committee.
The nimbus turns to dust...
No sound and no thrust.

The uncaring,
Hobble and Babble.
Their state remains perpetual.
'Welcome' says the lonely voice.

Walks today,
A Dragon form the sky.


I wasted an eternity,
Knocking destiny's doors,
The wind came by and the candle moaned.

Waiting for something,
In vain I shone, I castaway myself in forlorn.

Denied to see the sunshine,
I stuck posters of rain.
While you moved on, I wonder if I'm sane.

I've grown,
Grown into an opaque labyrinth of words,
That murmur in my sleep,
And hide from my pen.

That bloodstain,
Ah...I remember...You had cried.
My sacrifice for the dream that I held inside.

Now like moths the fireflies fell,
Like Icarus - too close to the sun.

Alone in madness and despair,
I stall the inevitable,
By watching a movie.

The rain is decaying and moving away,
Words never come out when I've something to say.
The rain that I conjured as my own,
My dream.

Now my sanity's leaking out,
Form the holes that they've made.
Since when,
I lookout for the Me in the mirror.
Still seeming to find just the wall in my cellar.

No ale, no friend,
I'm alone in my lonely den.
Wraith of my childhood...never sees me awake.
And I send a bleeding sigh,
To reach you before Its too late...


Joshua's song.

I am what I wanted to see,
I am where I wanted to be.

The Road, serves me delight.
A saint I am without a god.
As I walk my way between the thin lines,
Without a coin on my body,
I'm still beating you in the end.

Come the seasons,
They all are mine,
I smile, they become divine.

The sky is my canvas,
The giver of my flight.
And the earth still lures me,
To her dark mystic side.

The penny on me, just weighs me down,
I'm far too sane to disagree,
And the many people I've known
Can always show me the way.

A straw hat for a catfish,
A night for a hand,
A flower for the meal,
And a reason to go on.

There is no debt or owe,
I'm no longer under that hammer that you know.

I speak with the leaves,
and play along the thorns.
My hand touches a ghost
And bids him farewell.

And here I am,
So true so true.
But this is where I wanted to be,
Let the reaper come,
We shall have a word or two.

July 10, 2008

The Druid of Twilight.

The city rested on the grim banks.
Under the estranged sunlight,
The Pillars of their vain pride shall fall...

I emerge from the tall grass and fallow,
I whisper the sorcery into the Howler's ear.
And a serpent tells the tale.

Many a layers of chains,
Mortal supremacy, for the pride and vain
By my hands you shall set free,
An instrument of your liberty.

The air has changed,
And so shall the land and its face.
Apocalypse of your delusions,
Has finally crossed the horizons.

Come, the chiefs and sing thy songs,
Wreak havoc, like never before.
Let Chaos be at peace.
I want to see then,
How will they keep their heads so neat,
Or shall be swallowed by defeat.

And from the ashes of this vegetable world,
Shall be erected another realm,
Of the brave and the free.
Or lest a sanctuary of their dreams.

July 8, 2008


In fury and flame,
We play the game.
After nightfall,
Ashes glow;
And we're not the same.

What were you saying again?
Me was almost off the mark!!

The Certain Principle of Uncertinity.

He resides in the sail,
He resides in the wind.
He's why you pleasure.
The outcome of thy leisure.

A secret treasure:
In existence his, denies.
In the forgery you find,
The truth of his lies.

The angel and the demon,
Can't together be.
But without them...
Even the shadow of you,
I shall not see.

Her way.

Her vision foresees the enchantment,
The ale and the night.
Her shadow incomplete,
Knitting in the ashes, as she moves again.

A forty other years,
She's looked behind tonight,
Its her night to cry.

Forfeit her song,
When the baby cries.
He takes her by the hand,
And foots step on cold sand.

The night she drifted,
From the adopted shore.
She's never looked back.

At the sun she stare,
That was her way.
What could have been the past,
No heed she pays.

India resigning.

I woke up pretty late in the morning, it was past the breakfast time. As routine I struggled for the morning news paper. Page and another went by, news of the common man, for the common the uncommon. A frequent deaths by the hands of some avaricious kin, the attempt of an immature lover to etch liking on the skin of the loved, prices the common man pays for the most trivial of the follies. Another leaf of happenings of a perpetual cycle go by...Indian Embassy mowed down by a maniac with explosives...

Indians we are and the exuberant legacy of our understanding and non-violent approach towards the whole of universe is well publicized of, but can nothing erase this blot of cowardice from our valor and self esteem? The common man and his problems are in plenty, and there must be attention given to it, but what attacks the nation, attacks you. I mean, now-a-days doesn't even the fear of slavery drive people to uphold their heads on their own straight necks? let alone glory be the driving force. Today he has trifled with your gates, that means he has enough guts to break into your home and get his hands around your throat. Indians are an intellectual people and I don't deny that, but what agitates me the most is that our leaders-who represent a hundred million and more of us in the globe, hide behind the elegance of civil virtues in the face of opposition to our fearless existence. Filthy sophist cowards. Take for example the so much hyped N-deal, what's with it? If our very lovable leaders have a history of childhood negligence I may understand their erratic behavior and their sycophantical attitude but they did have ha very stable head I suppose, for they managed to top the race.

All in all, there is a great loss of pride, a pride for the future, all thy glory rests in your shadows that's about to dissolve in the night. Then I must add, what is the need for the critically acclaimed freedom? Mightn't we only be needing some sophisticated administration? and for the lesser torments we have our illustrious civilization to back us, don't we? Well I also add that this does not fit well with me, as it may with some spineless creatures I share my land with.

In the end someone's need to do the straightening and as of today, that someone seems to have depleted the from the scene. Or do we need an Ironfist to remind us the responsibilities that must be put back into consideration?

June 20, 2008

Coming back home.

The steel key shafted into the doorlock and her fatigued hand turned the levers opening the door of her:their; new flat. It was around four and she fell on the sofa and did not bother to decide o which rack she wold put her shoes, she did not bother that day. The ripe sunshine beamed on her from behind, that gave her golden hair. Her numb eyes stared at the grey television screen; how much longer could she bare?
'Should I break off? What more can I possibly do? Then...'
Illogical possibilities that don't come true till you see them, or they stare at you, long enough till you break down. She looked at herself, 'the head is giving me problems, need to do something about it....' Her body lay on the sofa, Sleep was enforced.
Something is hurting again...the shoulder now...something always has to hurt I guess, she thought, or else you'd lose yourself. But some things she knew are fatal, they cling to you like a shadow; shadow of the midnight's dream. What is more important? What is worth? Is it? she sat on a merry-go-round and then she could never get off, not that she didn't have the ticket but more that she could never make up her mind. But why? Its a perfectly fine marriage, I need to hold on a bit more, Shouldn't I? or....
'Tara!...' Her husband Girish called, he was home. Must be nine, i slept too long, she thought. As she got up blood that flooded her skull came gushing down and the memory of the day's accident buzzed up. He stared at her, she could not stare back. Through the glass anger his, she could see, but that wasn't her fault, was it? What if...?
'Ae Tara! Have you gone blasted deaf? Where's the food? I'm starving.'
Forgot. Daily chores.
She got up hesitantly, with her frozen shoulder; still in her uniform...The grey , the white and the grey. Shirt buttons bother. Somehow she did not bother tonight, although she wanted to...She paced to the kitchen.
There he was, his vest loose and unsuitable for him. Hairy she hates them. Couldn't he see I was sleeping, all tired and troubled? came all on!...but he did see me with him...but...she thought she wanted to say this, but then would it be very healthy for the relationship?
'What are you staring at now? No food...Fuck...I'll have to eat the left overs now...'
'You could...'
'No thanks, why don't you? Oh! wait a minute, you must be full, na? Nice meal you both had. Weren't you a bit close? for 'just an old friend?' and you did seem happier than ever...'
'We're just old friends...please spare me.'
'Never, I will nor spare you nor your bloody friend...'
'He has nothing to do with this...please just let it be...I'm sick of it.'
Her voice almost choked, eyes were about to cry. She was breathing heavily, a lot of things got stirred up, a lot of problems...
Rajesh had nothing to do with this, nor anyone else...why does he have to have such a problem? What is my problem?
'There! Why do you love him? Don't you love me? eh? Answer me! bitch...'
He spat his poison all over her, his face was red and his eyes grew bigger. His face was near her's. She could smell his breath and all the rot that lay inside and as the words fell on her something went off.
Questions? Answers? Me? You? Love?
'I hate you. I do. I love him. Ya...'
Tears swept her face and she ran inside and sat on the bed and cried. Girish could not move for a few moments...his eyes had died away. Like a wounded animal, he backed the kitchen wall and stared at the floor.
Tara took the whiskey bottle out of its rest, poured it in the steel glass, and drank it. Filled it again but the malt was now rocking her head. She could also see her dark image in the glass sway. Everything was falling apart, the more she held it tight the more it slept sand in your hand. Girish came in, fuming; his pupils had dilated and he held his jaw tighter...
'You...whore...get out of my house...out now...I've had enough of your liberal culture.'
Data processing.
Tara's hand slammed the steel glass on the table and pushed Girish to the wall...
'Culture? You...tell me about culture? You bang that bitch what's-her-name everyday and you mister tell me about culture? eh? I just laugh with a friend and I'm a whore?'
'How dare you...I wouldn't ever think of it... '
'Just shut the hell up...I was there with Shama during her abortion...When she aborted YOUR bloody child...and not you...You're just a worm...I feel like puking when I look at you...'
Girish's head blew to a billion pieces. He couldn't look at her anymore, he was no longer the holier one.
Girish's face melted and he came closer to Tara and held her.
'O Tara, it wa...'
Tara pushed him away.
'Get off me....
You know what? Hell with you and your love. I'm leaving.'
Processor out of order? She doesn't think so. Questions do come back, they never leave. Maybe they even come with to to the after world or your next birth, but they do come back, big. Why did I come back any way? Where? She thought...Worth and worthlessness. Who decides.
Next day Tara stood in front of the same door, the key in the slot.
Home?...Next?... ... ...

June 9, 2008


The air had been quite unmoved by the darkness of the night, the street light was flocked by those same moths again; they are the same everyday, he tried to count them every night as he gazed into the darkness beyond the florescent Lucifer. He had nothing to do, his labor was to wait, till one day an infant sunray comes screaming to him and takes his misery away. He did not know what he had been suffering from, he did try to overhear the doctors' conversations, their muffled voices through their gas masks.
From the window he returned to his bed : home, still staring out at the world. Moths, blindness, fence, a cot and hardglass window. There was a shed in the compound that the boy could see, the shed with open know the ones with the wooden panes and all...a curtain fell out in the winds. White laced air fluttered over the jet blackness. Well past midnight the sky grew denser, a more solid black. Tears fell, distilled water, tears of the Night God. He saw the rain for the first time in the florescent spotlight.
All illuminated droplets like the tiny eggs of the Glassdragon or a thousand moths that had flocked the sun and fell: only still ashes.
He went to his window, square it was- sealed in the wall meant only for light. He was watching the rain for the first time; mud, frogs, water...adventure. A torrent had started rummaging the glass surface from outside, his pale fingers tried to touch the cool nectar but did feel nothing, his skin was accustomed to only cloth and metal. The thin cloth over his skin and the metal cot, the metal walls which were expensive but he didn't know. A small cell, a world of nothingness compacted in white, like a demon's mind and the window his eye...a white cyclops world.
No complains, no arguments, life and breath...bare and basic necessities- his share of happiness. But he too prayed, not for anything deeper than the flesh; he wanted the pain to cease, he knew no words, few sounds, few touches and fewer feelings. Klick-klok,Klick-klok, a surfacing snake which slid across the fragrant mildew over his memory, in the atrium of his chest a needle screamed as if trying to pound its way out. Delicate hands, one trying to see trough the glass and other through the chest. The scene of the window was washed away by the water, a river of colors like a playful sync, the head thudded the glass, the needle was about to come out.
In time...
The middle of the window became a river of flame, slow like flowing lava, moonlight lava. His pupils dilated and in a gasp a thick red liquid spouted out of his mouth. It was rich, red and translucent, it stained the sun red. Wasn't it wondrous? Pain ceased, his head felt like his hair, and his body became his clothes. He breathed a kiss, to his bloodlit sun, his soulless body fell over the window and down to the floor. What a waste! In a room lonely and awfully alone, his mark on this world lay.
His share of love, of ecstasy, of pain and of happiness; this share of his world.

May 18, 2008

A new passion.

Yup thats right...

Here's some flicks...



4. HAZE.






Thats all folks.

May 10, 2008

Yeh hai Bambai meri jaan...

The sun was falling from the sky, the sky form beyond the horizon, beyond the sea. We made our way through the Churchgate streets, passing the uptown colleges resting in honest peace. The goldlight of the sun was spread all over the open canvas, we could see the open sky and the Marine Drive from some distance, the trees that covered up around us, made it look like a tunnel...tunnel with an end.
The air harrowed all the slack in us as we walked into its territory, their territory...the wind, the sky, the sun ripening, and the rising tide.
We had sweating Coke cans in our hands. We were talking about love and art, our purpose of life...we talked like we had all the time of our life. We did not know that. We came to the searim, sat there, popped open the cans and kissed the tin. Nothing could break Sun's fall, he didn't seem to care, the wind was going berserk, he screamed onto our faces and into our hair. I spilled the drink on the rock as I watched the crabs tittering above the crashing waves, dark and faceless...minding their own little business in their own little world of rocks and tide. The globe went smoky golden, and saw himself in the simmering mirror of the Bombay sea. A goldstreak, like a long shadow of Moses' staff...looking at me from above.
I saw a city, marching into the ocean...a million hands on one rock, a million faces looking at the sun. I saw a multiplex of echoes running against the wind...and an ocean of molten steel and silver crashing up against its feet.
Near the seawall under its shadow, the water looked grey and old, wrinkles under its surface and its sleepy odour mix't was looking at me. The waves frothed at the rockbay and at a distance in the water there lay a line of refuse, ardently clinging to each other, as they floated. They all were dead, the small black things resembling aborted fish eggs, sticks, plastic, paper; all of them were dead...because they floated. It looked ugly, it looked offensive, but it was was Mumbai's, it was mine, it was ours. Every man comes to the harbor with a dream and the harbor gives him his cravings; his dreams and in return he gives her something.
All that there lay, is a piece if all of us floating in the hair of Mumbai...dead...but ours. The animated metal shined as the lightgiver descended finally into his quiet repose. I stood up, Adi was playing 'Soldier of Fortune' by Deep Purple on his cell, we sang aloud. To the city who gave me my life and a place to call my own, a flag to find myself on earth...
The Atlantis...

May 6, 2008

A song.

I'm gonna wait awhile,
To see you smile.
I'm leaving town today...
Yes I'm goin'- away.
O...don' wait for me,
Don look for me
I'm not here to stay.
I've come to realize
I'm far from your way.



1 -------------e
2 -------------A
3 ----------3---D
4 -----------2--G
5 ----------3---B
6 -------------E

Sorry donno the real chord name.

April 25, 2008

He and She.

A shade darker than black was spilled over the sky, stars teemed on the blackness like the garden of the gods. The village was slowly drowning in silence, the streets became deserted, silence in the houses hurried along as the cold low breeze snuffed out all the light. Silent, the village slept a night's sleep...
Crunching the gravel below his feet he made his way along the street, towards the forests. His hasty steps were filled with anticipation and excitement. The night had just begun, he had time but he couldn't wait. The road got lost into the forest, in the darker realm, in trees and in the insectnoise, a tranquil and pure darkness. His steps slowed down, his footsteps sounded of bruised dry leaves, cool air too was slothing around, near the ground.
Slowly a familiar scent filled his air, a perfume that he can never forget, he held out his hand and his fingers touched a familiar surface. She looked like the ghost of Moon herself, her veil white over her face. He held her around his arms, they both drifted till she was blocked by a tree, he came closer and kissed her through the fine lenin. His lips thrust upon hers, she resisted but his touch was something she longed for...eyes closed, the night and the world disappeared.
He pulled the veil off her, caressed her face and they kissed again. The seal broke, desire spoke as the night sped on. They caressed each other, through their clothes, the fever rose.
The dam could no longer hold the force of their passion, the curtains fell, skin to skin spake. The breath hastened, heavier and filled with a million words. That night all bonds dissolved, in the blink of an eye. On the forest grass, they lay, in embrace.
No longer they sought for words, for one they were in mutual love.
So long they said to the world and all, so long to all that is, we no longer are human...we have become divine.

Afternoon's death.

Its a lazy afternoon, the sunlight is beaming into the room through the half-curtained window, the dust is as still as it can be, in the shadows I lie comfortably doing absolutely nothing, not even sleeping. The time is so perfect for a nap, but the quote 'Nothing is perfect' wants to prove it right now...the doorbell rings, for a moment I stare at the ceiling cursing it, then pull myself out of my comfy zone and sporting a disappointed, irritated and angry look on my face head to the door to just say 'Sorry, Hame kuch nahi chahiye.'...yup I know its a salesman, I know it is; because the art of 'piss-em'-off-in-the-afternoon' can only be executed flawlessly by a member of their breed...hell ya I'm racist...I feel like hanging the guy upside-down and smoking him with the same thing that he's supposed to sell.
Well anyway, for an afternoon so perfect, there has to be more no really, there is some sinister plan being hatched to not let me have a moment of peace, up there. I open the door and m about to throw the I'm-pissed-off-line I see two women looking at me, with decent saris and some good amount of gold on 'em. Faced with such unusual situation I thought I knew where this would be going. Their 'aunty' eyes looked at me like a hyperactive squirrel high on sugar. All my instincts said was...
'Akshay na?'
The reminder of who I was darted at me and in enlightenment I let them in. Then I called mom, cause I'm very bad at hospitality. Really! If I had been there alone, then I would've given them their fair part of water from our reservoir and start watching t.v. no respect for guests. So mom comes into the scene and engages them, its two on one; but no worries, I've taught mom everything I know.
'Akshay, these are my friends from college, I forgot to tell you they were coming.'
Well thank you so much for letting me know mommy!!
There are some smirks,
'OOH, Look how much he's grown...!!!'
One of the aunties exclaim immediately after the hullo, and I smile like 'Ya I'm surprised too.' Like don't they have any other pickup line? And anyway what do you expect me to do? Stay the same saying 'Hey I don't wanna surprise my relatives, they are heart patients.' the point is- when will they learn?
Then came inquiries about my academic front...yeah there my imagination goes bonkers...!
'12th na? Which classes are you going to?'
Bhakti classes, go there for eight hours everyday, you're too lucky you found me here...well this is what I REALLY wanted to say, even though I stopped going there after the first week of joining...but mom was just gave minimum info that was maximum true.
'How much do you study? Better study hard...important year!'
'Ya I do study, abhi toh revision chal raha hai...'
Yeah right, revision, there hasn't been even on single complete vision, but you know, I would've studied, atleast in my dreams if you hadn't shown up...and what's all that crap about important year and all, eh? Important...who cares? I've been created to party...
So goes on the chat and my fragile and simple mind is assaulted by the 'care' and 'concern' of these very gentle creatures and thus the noon turns to evening, the time when the seal of homes over the unruly hooligans breaks, and chaos is unleashed into the playground...
The guests decide to bid farewell and there my friend, dies another afternoon.

Mad Blind man.

Afternoon sun, time has past since the noon; the city is divided into day and night. Close creeping buildings, covering over each other like collapsing lovers and their shadows; dark alleys cold and quiet, as if to brew a sinister mystery. The wind was unforgiving, sucking out all your dreams and all the comfort of the passed night.
A man, buzzes up and down the forsaken alley, blabbering, chanting as if in an endless convulsion.
'Go go go away, go away from the lie, your unheard cry, deep within your stoned heart.
fie fie...
Run away when you wise not brave...
Hey where are my eyes? where are my eyes? you took my eyes! give them back...
Curse you mortal curse you....
Your fagged lonely dream will rot in your head...
rot! I tell you
Why do you come face me, FACE ME!.
Cowards, don't have no home....masterless futile creations...
Oh....just end your perdition...just kill yourself
Do you have time? Time? stay with me...
tea? coffee? I have biscuits I cannot find...
I'll go to the heaven...will you come
I've one extra ticket....
Just for you, if you give me back what's mine.
Come on, lets go to heaven...
This place is a shitpile, there's nothing left for you..
come come...
Coward! Coward! Go hide in your hole.
She touches my face. O the one angel's name Le nore...
The angel of death... she's gone she will never return...
Nor will you...Slave!.....'
Thud! He falls unconscious. Still blabbering in his head...angry and insane...
He forsake the world.

What have we become!

I was resting on my bed that grew out of the window wall, staring out of the grilled outlook, I looked at the Peupul tree that grew just outside. At times like these, when I'm alone...when I'm not 'supposed' to do or be anything by any one, I think. I think really hard.
Last night when I was talking to my best buddy it all came out; all the discontent, all my complains; complains about myself and about all of us. Yes we as Indians are proud of our culture, our legacies, our epics and the traditions. If you ask me, I'll say we aren't that great; our families are born out of desperation and there is no communication or a huge miscommunication. Hate me if I'm being a fat-arse, sitting on the couch and complaining, but this is what I see.
There is never a problem when everyone in the family is happy, everyone is tolerable, loveable. Everything is fine when we are as we are 'supposed' to be; rules form the binding element of a family, algorithm for your behavior, a guide to how you should be and not love. And this is not a demented way of looking at things, just a different way. Think about it, when we are kids there is no restrictions to our thoughts, we show what we feel and say what we really want, but as we grow older, we become more intelligent, more responsible [I really doubt that] and then we become what we are supposed to become.
Really, look at yourself, there's something you've been meaning to tell your parents about but can't because you are afraid of how they'll react. Children have to think a thousand times before speaking to their parents! What is more pathetic? If they really love you why then such a distance, why a wall of expectations? Are we that useless?
Frankly people, where has all the love gone? Buried under the weights of traditions and rules and 'suppositions'. All this crap about traditions and society is all in the head, our heads. In reality we are just individuals, weak and afraid, unable to talk to each other...that's why there is the need for all these artificialities, all these guidelines.
Let me remind you here I'm not talking about you and the rest of the world, I'm just speaking in the context of you and your family. When are we going to love people we say we love? When are we going to lead a better life, walk a path that we choose, that we desire? Do we really need something else to tell us whom to love, how to love and how much to love? Are we that useless? Tell me, are we that weak?

April 23, 2008

The Bait.

The river creased like liquid glass through the plains and the forest, the sun dancing on its waves like an orchestra of gems. Reeds waved to the current and their leaves' tips dipped under the river surface like the hands of little children playing with the water. Joshua walked along the bank, by the reeds and the watergrass. The forest around him was whispering him a thousand secrets at a time, secrets of passion, poison, blood and gold, but Joshua did not care much; he was more attentive to its silence as it caressed the river's evenflow and the sound of the water blushing under the sun. His feet were unaware of all this, the sounds and the smell, the strange colors that ran through the world...but they were attentive, through the shoe, they could sense every grass shoot that went under, every shape of every leaf that they trampled. Like Argus, Joshua's entire being becomes eyes, perceptive and a rosefilter, beautifying everything...beautiful the world was, as beautiful as him.
A snake, black like the night sky, his scales gleaming under the afternoon sun - the stars; slid into the current and disappeared, as if it were a stream of ink. Joshua stopped and stared at which he was looking all along, he sensed the pull inside his stomach and sat down. He was hungry. The canvas carrier was laid to rest, now on the grass; his body stretched till he saw his face in the stream, kissed himself and drank the sweet water that carried the smell of grass. Rolled over and he sat up, readied his dagger, a flint and his bamboo fishing bow.
The fishing bow was an arm long bamboo shoot, that was dried till 'twas yellow, a friend had made it for him, because Joshua always made him laugh. It had a fine silk string fixed at the paler end of the bamboo, the other end of which harnessed the pike-end hook. The bow threw the hook back and lashed it into the water with a plop. The traveler backed onto his canvas back-pack and lay there watching string dance in the current...erratic but melodious. A dead leaf fell from an unknown tree on the watersheet like a drifting boat; it swiveled and ran along the current, passing his fishing line, ignoring the happy leaves above; Josh found it awfully familiar. And as the leaf turned around, the forestwhispers, the afternoonshade and the waterdance put him to sleep.
After sometime he felt someone by his side and opened his eyes. Josh saw a face in the mist, very near to his. It was a small girl with the most charming face and the most disarming smile he had ever seen. The little one still looking at him...
'You forgot the bait...'
The vision collapsed back into sleep and after a moment's silence Josh startled up to find no mist, but line still in the water and an absent child. Standing up he withdraws the silken string to see a naked hook. A cool breeze wipes his face and looking at the sky, where the sun has neared the western end; he rolls up the silk and puts it in the bag, conjures up his flint and blade, he slings the canvas pouch over his shoulder. Looks at the running stream with dancing goldflakes on her hair, laughing at him, laughing to herself...
'I forgot the bait'
Joshua burst out in laughter, unable to believe himself; he laughs. Tears tumble down his eyes and now regaining his composure he wipes them off and looks at the sky again.
'Well...I forgot the bait'
The light was receding from the sky like a huge tide and he needed to get to the village quickly if he must sleep under a roof...if lucky. Smiling and shaking his head he thrust himself upstream. This is not the first time that he had been without a meal, he thought to himself and walking toward the humbling sun he smiled and marched along.

April 21, 2008


We live our lives in ignorance. When we are children we are free and full of possibilities. He said a man is born free; all the bondages come later. I feel we owe the society a lot, for it protects our fears, nourishes our prejudices and saves us from self destruction. In all this noise of me and you, culture and responsibility, family and tradition I suddenly find myself lost; lost for words, lost for dreams, lost for courage and essentially lost from myself. I've forgotten who I am, reduced to a machine, a gear in the big system of hallucinating small gears like my self....and the problem is that somehow I've stopped hallucinating.
Come to see and I couldn't withstand the freedomlessness, man I had to break free but I learnt the hard way that I can't....FOOL. I thought I could beat the system; all that I am - one itsy-bitsy person, like a Jew trapped in Rome. Is that all we account for? as individuals, when are we going to be free. Some would say that it creates chaos if such a thing ever happened....but I say we will create a new system...a new order. Bah... these are just the dreams of an old rebel.
Afterall, what are we in this huge world? Puny people weak and afraid. Small puppets with strings tied to each other. So powerless, so helpless. Numb and withering away. People the days of bravery and glory are gone...Now comes the Night of the Slaves. Slaves without a master - no good. Come on fellow answer me what are you? Show me who you are....all alone bleeding, watching the moon. Where has the God in you gone? Oh, where atleast the Satan in you gone?
Hopeless....all we are in the end; are just Humans.
Just Human.

April 20, 2008

Under the microscope 1

Today I want to analyze the poem called 'Tales of a drifter' by Aditya K. A close friend.

The dark clouds rest
As the sun comes out
Dawning of a new era
As my feet set out
5 To a never ending journey
I'm yet another vagabond
Never sought interest
Except dusk and dawn
Son of two intellects
10 Hardwork and adversity
No, never did I learn
Despite all tragedy
I had to move on
I was a faithful dog
15 Earned my two meals
Doing different jobs
Never cared of money
It never stayed
As a new day began
20 I started again

This piece contains 20 lines exactly. This work has no particular rhyme pattern...but as you move on [from l.5 onwards] he does rhyme at some places using the classic combination of words. For example - ..dusk and dawn.., ..learn..move on.. and so on.
The central theme of this work is the Adi's idea of a drifter and what qualities of a vagabond's life appeals him. From the first four lines we can see the optimism he wants to highlight, we can also see his dire need for such a moment by the direction of the notes, the direction is forward or the future. Then l.5 marks his desire for continuity. With l.6 he turns us into the present and bends the sails to hit a recap, but we don't get a recap quite literally as he still describes the present from l.7.
L.7 can be quite misleading in context to lines 8 and 9 as l.8 marks a transition of subject i.e. a common epithet for both l.7 and l.8. L.9 he tells us that the universal truth of 'dawn and dusk' he has realized in his persona. But lines 10 and 11 show us his stubborn nature, hence contradicting with the earlier ideas. Thus Oscar Wilde reveals himself....Yes my friends Adi's works deeply portray ideas in paradoxes [Which I feel excess]. Lines 12 and 13 show the optimism again, not as something what he seeks but as something that he's experienced, but this line and its placement also tells us that he's left behind something dear and the 'moving on' hurt him.
Line 14 again is very broad, but I'd like to think that he was a 'faithful dog' to is responsibilities. L.15 to l.18 show his vagabond lifestyle and his take on wealth. The last two lines again show the need for optimistic approach to life....

[Well so much for an unasked review. If I read everything so I would've topped the class....hehehe.]

The Walk.

The rain was crushing down on the pavement, water flooding the small cementlines of the pedestrian causeway. A smooth sole slapped against the fineskinned bricks to hold the ground. Joshua has returned after his years of wandering; now he was a bit old and awfully lot wise. The straw hat he wore he had traded for a catfish from a peasant working in a flooded paddy. He loved his hat and the smell of rain through it. He had all the time in the world, a vagabond they called him. No one loved him nor any one hated him to be, he had lot of friends but no one ever asked him if he could stay awhile longer; how he loved the feeling. Meanwhile in the heavens the clouds still continued to rumble.
From b'neath his hatline he could see the wet pavement now starting to flood, he saw the rain drops as they hung onto the hat's strawends and he observed them as they fell into the native pool and made ripples of the cloudy sky above. He smiled. He smiled at himself for being so like a kid, rugged and simple. Water was now entering the weak cloth that covered his body, the hat started smelling very damp and uneasy. The Market road turned into the Shoe street, where he trod alone making noises from his smoothened shoe; in the afternoon, city slept.
One shoe-mender, old and alone in his shop lifted his head from below the table and silently inquired about such a bad state of a sole. He saw Joshua coming towards him, still the same, no change; he still walked like a child. As the returned came closer, the old man sat up and bespectacled himself and watched the young man clothed in a maroon tunic and grey fieldpants walk under his shed, his wet shoes draining themselves at the stone steps. The youngster then took off his rain coat and hung it over the bamboo that came out of the roof, the canvas bag he owned was once white and new, now it was as old and dark as the old man but like him it was strong still. Joshua now removed his wet shoes and slid them over to the old man.
'Fix them.'
Looking at the beaten apparatus the oldie hung the shoes onto his fingers and slung them into the waste.
'Chacha, no. Those are mine....'
'Arrh Josha, they are no use. Now give me your feet I need to take new measures to sew new ones for you'
'Well if it was anyone else than you I wouldn't have let him do this. But perhaps I really need a new pair.'
Josha kept his feet in front of the old-timer, over the scales. The practiced eye took note of every dimension of the feet and the brain started calculating and sketching a new pair. The material, the stitch, the curves, the volume; every cut was memorized. Then the shoemaker turned to his table and writing something he said-
'So what have you been up to lately?'
'Nothing just roaming. Did you hear of the raid at the village of Tabacus?'
'No, what about it?'
'I wanted to buy some tobacco there, but ended up fighting in the village gang.'
'How much did they pay you?'
'Well, that's the best part of the deal, 1 bronze for each bandit, I tell you I had a feast with wine and rum that night old man, we all enjoyed.'
'Fool...threw the money to the monkey. It could've helped you later.
'Could have...but the small tobacco transit earned me more than I needed. So what use was this money?
Enough chit-chat old man, throw me the boots. For a man as fine as you, those new boots must've been complete a week ago.'
The old man withdrew from his scribbling and laughingly pulled out a draw and gave the new shoes to the youngster.
'Five coppers.'
' use bargaining with you. So long old timer.'
Sliding the money into the cashbox, he watched the boy gather up himself and move on, disappearing into the sun's scarlet hue. The rain had since stopped but the street was wet and the new shoes were making a different noise.
'He still walks like a child...A wise child...'

The Grand Conjuration.

Currently playing....Grand Conjuration by Opeth [ Ghost Reveries ] ....
The riff of the song is very broken and might sound very erratic technically but as the song moves on the timeline it develops its own pattern. The drum work by Martin Lopez is very supportive and fulfilling to the rhythm[riff]. The rhythm also shows a dark and assertive nature in it, lending a very hunky base to the song. This song is the Headbangers' dream.
Another instrument, the keyboards...this guy just elevates the song into a higher realm of darkness thus giving me a feeling of an inner atrium in the composition - the best example of internal helix in modern music. As the guitars and vocals along with the drums backing them up, build to a strong momentum, the keyboards sing few but definitive notes enlightening the song.
Now cometh the solo. This monster of pace arises from the momenta of the bass and the guitars. like a foreseeable orgasm, you know its coming but still can't figure out exactly what it is. The lead just explodes on the scene screaming and singing with his guitar. Though the solo is not divine or technically 'GOD' but within the timeline of the song just make you lose yourself.
Just as the solo dies away so does the main feeling of the song...but these guys[Opeth] have so many tricks up their sleeve, the solo's end marks the end of their tempo's peak and gradually and intricately the composition spirals downwards revealing the keyboards and the inner helix of the song. Enlightenment. The keyboards weave a fine solo and start to mark the real orgasm or 'peak-fall' in the song. With the end of the solo [key] you begin to anticipate what's next and with unique Opeth style the riff a Phoenix arising from its ashes....You want this cycle to never end....
But like all good things my friend this number does end. Truly a 'GRAND' Conjuration. Apt.

Moving on...

After an arduous time in my life recently...I finally decided to relax and take my pick. Not wait for the rain or the sunshine, as you're thinking; just relax. Time for all those dogmas, complexes and prejudices in my skull to feel very unwanted and find somewhere else to stay. My friends are far ahead dancing and singing, touching the sun's smile...and I'm still here brooding over the days, forgone. Regrets I do have many, infact so many that they give my memory a colossal spam and I fail to re-account them. Regrets...they'll always linger around me like dead friend's ghosts; seen only by me.
As I turn back and wonder who I was, surely; then I was happy. I had friends by my side and we enjoyed every passing time. I wish that I become that person again [Play K-Os' 'The man I used to be..' track]. Wounds heal, I learn if I give them the time. But some memories are just too painful to heal. They are just too deep and silent. So silent that sometimes even I can't hear them screaming...'Asshole what have you done?...' Yeah you really get used to this shit....
Well now I'm cut-off from most, I'm relaxing...where ever I'm still bleeding inside, the blood now collects behind my skin and rots. A horrendous package of filth and plague I will have to carry and rush forth to meet my friends. Join in the party.
Oh, well that's that. That something which the world calls Moving on....

P.S. - I hate you all.