I know you’re not tolerant to just anything,
Keeping that in mind, I haven’t called to say “anything”,
just HAPPY DIWALI!
I know I’m the ultimate baddy, full of vice,
and whatever a baddy does is bound to be bad and unwise.
But then, I haven’t called to say anything bad,
only HAPPY DIWALI!
Was a time when baddy called you, tried to talk nice.
I know all that was idiotic,
But you dunno it was all aimed at breaking the ice.
I haven’t called to try to break it again,
but just to say HAPPY DIWALI!
Even baddies need friends you see,
Atleast till they’re finally shot dead,
And the heroine jumps in ecstasy,
exclaiming ‘Great’
But here I’m, hale and hearty now.
Look at me, these good clothes, WOW!!
You might ask- what does Diwali mean to a baddy?
Well nothing much, just some good fireworks,
some fine new clothes, a bottle, a glass,
some other baddies, n a pack of cards.
But those good old folks say
Its time to bury the hatchet.
But being the ultimate baddy,
naturally,I do not understand all that.
So I haven’t called to bury any hatchet,
but just to say HAPPY DIWALI!!!
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
A VAGABOND'S TALE!!!
when I saw u smile,
I saw in you a child,
I felt an urge to kiss you,
with no intentions wild;
But alas! your radiant eyes,
might drive me into vice,
I am an innocent dreamer,
or a sinner in disguise?
I took a turn to go back,
my mind had lost the right track,
Then something pulled me close to you,
what was it I never knew,
So, choiceless I must kiss you,
I said, so, to myself,
I had to do it anyway,
even if it brought me death
Then...............................................
The moment threw me miles away,
Oh!! your nauseating BREATH!!!!!!!!!!!!
MORAL OF THE STORY- "not brushing ur teeth, can save you from VAGABONDS"
use COLGATE, smile '24x7'
I saw in you a child,
I felt an urge to kiss you,
with no intentions wild;
But alas! your radiant eyes,
might drive me into vice,
I am an innocent dreamer,
or a sinner in disguise?
I took a turn to go back,
my mind had lost the right track,
Then something pulled me close to you,
what was it I never knew,
So, choiceless I must kiss you,
I said, so, to myself,
I had to do it anyway,
even if it brought me death
Then...............................................
The moment threw me miles away,
Oh!! your nauseating BREATH!!!!!!!!!!!!
MORAL OF THE STORY- "not brushing ur teeth, can save you from VAGABONDS"
use COLGATE, smile '24x7'
Thursday, August 14, 2008
OBITUARY
I’d fallen for her the first time I’d touched her. She was perhaps too nice, smooth and delicate for a carelessly uncaring guy like me. Her exquisitely sublime features required care, still, she had surrendered totally in my hands the very first time we had met. I had seen in her a companion of my choice. I knew I wanted her in my life. I needed her. When the opportune moment arrived she came into my life for once and for as long as I would let her remain with me. She became mine.
Days passed by, we lived together; quite happily. We stayed together; in bed, at the dining table, on the road, at work and at times, even in the bathroom. She was an epitome of perfect submission. She would do for me all the things I wanted her to- she would share with me my joys, my sorrows, my pleasures, my pains; she would sing for me when I wanted to listen. When I wanted to speak, she would listen to me patiently, silently, without judgment, and would utter not a word. She would reaffirm every now and then that she was with me, for me, always, except when I’d specifically instructed her to leave me on my own in which case she would obey me without slightest protest. In a short span she had got so close to me that sometimes it seemed as if she understood me, not fully though, but substantially. She was always free from the diseases that afflict all- hatred, ill-will, anger, greed and most of all, jealousy.
I smashed her against the wall with all my might. “Bang”, lethally disfigured, she fell down on the bed. I wasn’t at ease, I didn’t relax. I flung her away with a jerk this time. She hit the floor. Her skeleton replied, the internal parts of her body came out and spattered all over. She had gone into eternal slumber, never to wake up again. Before anyone entered the room, I searched and collected the battery, the sim card and all the other parts scattered in the room and safely kept them all in the suitcase under my bed.
Days passed by, we lived together; quite happily. We stayed together; in bed, at the dining table, on the road, at work and at times, even in the bathroom. She was an epitome of perfect submission. She would do for me all the things I wanted her to- she would share with me my joys, my sorrows, my pleasures, my pains; she would sing for me when I wanted to listen. When I wanted to speak, she would listen to me patiently, silently, without judgment, and would utter not a word. She would reaffirm every now and then that she was with me, for me, always, except when I’d specifically instructed her to leave me on my own in which case she would obey me without slightest protest. In a short span she had got so close to me that sometimes it seemed as if she understood me, not fully though, but substantially. She was always free from the diseases that afflict all- hatred, ill-will, anger, greed and most of all, jealousy.
I smashed her against the wall with all my might. “Bang”, lethally disfigured, she fell down on the bed. I wasn’t at ease, I didn’t relax. I flung her away with a jerk this time. She hit the floor. Her skeleton replied, the internal parts of her body came out and spattered all over. She had gone into eternal slumber, never to wake up again. Before anyone entered the room, I searched and collected the battery, the sim card and all the other parts scattered in the room and safely kept them all in the suitcase under my bed.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
91.1 FM
The evening was soothingly pleasant to the humidity-afflicted souls living in Bombay. The first downpour in the morning had washed the roads, adding an extra charm to the ceaselessly vibrant city immersed in innumerable colors of evening lights. The dark gray roads glistening in streetlights made you want to keep wandering endlessly. I felt a bit hungry, so asked a taxiwala to drop me at some good restaurant.
The ambience of the restaurant was passable, as it looked from outside. So I decided to step in. Well, nothing was worth mentioning till I cast a glance at a corner of the restaurant. The calm on her face belied her lively features. The soft creamy skin which looked as touchable as the peel of a ripe alphonso, contrasted well with the colourful and sumptuous interiors of the restaurant. Her blond hair tied in a ponytail seemed to invite you to untie it and feel its silky touch, her perfectly carved body made you mistake her for a Greek Godess. To sum-up, her exuberantly sharp features were enough to drive a hermit crazy, let alone an ordinary guy. There appeared absolutely no reason for her sitting alone. Her deep brownish eyes were apparently glued to the page of a booklet. God knows what it was.
The dormant impish spirit in me all of a sudden wakes-up and I start toying with the idea of walking up to her to ask if I could sit with her. But my inhibition in the form of commonsense prevents me. "She may be waiting for someone", it says. Not more than 5 minutes later, God knows from where this sanuwabitch walks in and as if with a premeditated thought comes over sraight to her and whispers something in her ear. The guy sporting funky casuals looks cool and handsome at the same time. Was she waiting for him? Now trust me, I wasn't eavesdropping but still overhear, "Hi! is ne one comin over here". No!, she said. Can I take the seat? Yaa sure, she replies.
So, he sits there, right in front of her and starts blabbering, "Which country u from?" France, You? UK. And the conversation goes on... The guy now rolls-up a cigarrette and offers it to her, which she readily accepts. In about 10 min. they both get-up, and walk out together, blowing rings of smoke.
My meal? Well, the waiter comes over to tell me that the stuff I ordered isn't available, so I order something else. My order is placed before me soon. I plug my ears with the earphones and tune in to 91.1 FM. "tu pasand hai kisi aur ki...tujhe chahta koi aur hai!", nice song!
The ambience of the restaurant was passable, as it looked from outside. So I decided to step in. Well, nothing was worth mentioning till I cast a glance at a corner of the restaurant. The calm on her face belied her lively features. The soft creamy skin which looked as touchable as the peel of a ripe alphonso, contrasted well with the colourful and sumptuous interiors of the restaurant. Her blond hair tied in a ponytail seemed to invite you to untie it and feel its silky touch, her perfectly carved body made you mistake her for a Greek Godess. To sum-up, her exuberantly sharp features were enough to drive a hermit crazy, let alone an ordinary guy. There appeared absolutely no reason for her sitting alone. Her deep brownish eyes were apparently glued to the page of a booklet. God knows what it was.
The dormant impish spirit in me all of a sudden wakes-up and I start toying with the idea of walking up to her to ask if I could sit with her. But my inhibition in the form of commonsense prevents me. "She may be waiting for someone", it says. Not more than 5 minutes later, God knows from where this sanuwabitch walks in and as if with a premeditated thought comes over sraight to her and whispers something in her ear. The guy sporting funky casuals looks cool and handsome at the same time. Was she waiting for him? Now trust me, I wasn't eavesdropping but still overhear, "Hi! is ne one comin over here". No!, she said. Can I take the seat? Yaa sure, she replies.
So, he sits there, right in front of her and starts blabbering, "Which country u from?" France, You? UK. And the conversation goes on... The guy now rolls-up a cigarrette and offers it to her, which she readily accepts. In about 10 min. they both get-up, and walk out together, blowing rings of smoke.
My meal? Well, the waiter comes over to tell me that the stuff I ordered isn't available, so I order something else. My order is placed before me soon. I plug my ears with the earphones and tune in to 91.1 FM. "tu pasand hai kisi aur ki...tujhe chahta koi aur hai!", nice song!
Sunday, June 8, 2008
SATURDAY T(RAIN) IN MUMBAI, 7/6/08
PART-II
I reached Kharghar railway station at around 4:30 in the evening. Generally, there is a train for CST (VT) every 20 minutes but today it seemed like something was wrong. The station, unlike other days, was almost empty, with passengers countable on fingers. A good sign though, as far as availability of seats is concerned but it also posed question on the availability of the train considering the heavy downpour of the morning. About 15 minutes later, the station echoed with the announcement-"due to heavy rains in the morning, the tracks between some stations have gone under water, resulting in cancellation of some of the scheduled trips. Some trains are re-scheduled, whereas the transportation is being restored". Now that was pretty confusing since no specific train was named and so the fate of my train was uncertain. While I was stuck between waiting on and getting back to flat, a train apparently coming from CST came trundling on Platform-I. This reinforced my hope of getting a train. So, I decided to wait on. 20 min. later 2 more trains had trundled past platform-I on the downside towards Panwel, while my platform i.e. Platfarm-I was yet to see its first train.
In a state of boredom I looked-up at the electric supply wire that passes from above the train when out of nowhere a strange thought crossed my mind. The wire, despite constant rubbing with that equipment which sticks out from the head of the train never breaks. Why, it is metal after all, it should also wear down. But I chided myself for allowing the stupid thought- "The entire mechanism is designed by experts who would have considered such a silly thing and a million more, a thousand times. So practically its impossible."But what would happen if it broke off? The train was on the platform within the next 5 mins. I boarded the train and forgot the whole idea.
About an hour later...
The train halted abruptly a little ahead of Vadala. What's so peculiar about it? Trains generally do stop in the the middle of nowhere owing to congestion or other technical problems, thanks to the mismanagement of Indian Railways. But there was something peculiar about this halt. Not only the train had stopped, but the engine had died down completely which generally does not happen. People started getting down, whereas I decided to wait and watch until only a few were left inside. Eventually, I got-up and asked someone- "what happened?''. "The electric cable that runs above the train has snapped", the man replied.
I reached Kharghar railway station at around 4:30 in the evening. Generally, there is a train for CST (VT) every 20 minutes but today it seemed like something was wrong. The station, unlike other days, was almost empty, with passengers countable on fingers. A good sign though, as far as availability of seats is concerned but it also posed question on the availability of the train considering the heavy downpour of the morning. About 15 minutes later, the station echoed with the announcement-"due to heavy rains in the morning, the tracks between some stations have gone under water, resulting in cancellation of some of the scheduled trips. Some trains are re-scheduled, whereas the transportation is being restored". Now that was pretty confusing since no specific train was named and so the fate of my train was uncertain. While I was stuck between waiting on and getting back to flat, a train apparently coming from CST came trundling on Platform-I. This reinforced my hope of getting a train. So, I decided to wait on. 20 min. later 2 more trains had trundled past platform-I on the downside towards Panwel, while my platform i.e. Platfarm-I was yet to see its first train.
In a state of boredom I looked-up at the electric supply wire that passes from above the train when out of nowhere a strange thought crossed my mind. The wire, despite constant rubbing with that equipment which sticks out from the head of the train never breaks. Why, it is metal after all, it should also wear down. But I chided myself for allowing the stupid thought- "The entire mechanism is designed by experts who would have considered such a silly thing and a million more, a thousand times. So practically its impossible."But what would happen if it broke off? The train was on the platform within the next 5 mins. I boarded the train and forgot the whole idea.
About an hour later...
The train halted abruptly a little ahead of Vadala. What's so peculiar about it? Trains generally do stop in the the middle of nowhere owing to congestion or other technical problems, thanks to the mismanagement of Indian Railways. But there was something peculiar about this halt. Not only the train had stopped, but the engine had died down completely which generally does not happen. People started getting down, whereas I decided to wait and watch until only a few were left inside. Eventually, I got-up and asked someone- "what happened?''. "The electric cable that runs above the train has snapped", the man replied.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
SATURDAY T(RAIN) IN MUMBAI 07/6/08
PART-I
It was raining outside when i opened my still sleepy eyes. Saturday being an off day, I could afford the luxury of lying in bed as long as I wanted. Initially the plan was to get-up around 10 in the morning, complete all the essential morning rituals by 11, and then set out for the churchgate bookstall I had spotted yesterday. But the temptation of that cozy feeling in the bed while it was pouring down outside was more than an excuse for a lazy guy like me to push the time of getting-up on and on till a conscious part could bear it no more and stood-up in protest. So, finally when the voice of that conscious part became too loud to let me enjoy my bliss, I extended my hand to reach out for the watch which cast almost a contemptuous look at me with its hands displaying 11:30. Bitter though, it was truth. So finally, I lay my feet on the ground, and guess what? I go straight to...(bathroom? nay!!!) computer, and start chatting with some damsels . While, as usual, nothing materializes, my friends also get up and want to use the computer. So, an annoyed I (after 1 full hour of fruitless effort at chatting) very readily give it.
ABOUT AN HOUR LATER...
My friend was now done with his work on computer and offered it to me again, and i grabbed the opportunity with both hands. I've just sat before the monitor when this (who'z this?) unknown guy sends a message- Hi F##k! Now this was like a spark in the gunpowder. I wait for a while. But the fellow starts bragging- "I dunno y everyone wants to stay wid me", only to annoy me to the extent of losing all sanity. So I reply- "Well, thats coz ur sis is very pretty!" but what's this? Instead of my name, it shows 'Manish' in the bracket. So, I figure out the whole thing instantly and realize my blunder.
Manish, my dear friend and generous host (he's the guy in whose flat i'm putting-up presently) had kept his id open and the message which pissed me off was actually sent by his best friend at college and was meant for him. OOPS!! to set things right, I had to apologetically explain the whole situation and call Manish lest the scene might go out of control. So this is how I began the day!!
It was raining outside when i opened my still sleepy eyes. Saturday being an off day, I could afford the luxury of lying in bed as long as I wanted. Initially the plan was to get-up around 10 in the morning, complete all the essential morning rituals by 11, and then set out for the churchgate bookstall I had spotted yesterday. But the temptation of that cozy feeling in the bed while it was pouring down outside was more than an excuse for a lazy guy like me to push the time of getting-up on and on till a conscious part could bear it no more and stood-up in protest. So, finally when the voice of that conscious part became too loud to let me enjoy my bliss, I extended my hand to reach out for the watch which cast almost a contemptuous look at me with its hands displaying 11:30. Bitter though, it was truth. So finally, I lay my feet on the ground, and guess what? I go straight to...(bathroom? nay!!!) computer, and start chatting with some damsels . While, as usual, nothing materializes, my friends also get up and want to use the computer. So, an annoyed I (after 1 full hour of fruitless effort at chatting) very readily give it.
ABOUT AN HOUR LATER...
My friend was now done with his work on computer and offered it to me again, and i grabbed the opportunity with both hands. I've just sat before the monitor when this (who'z this?) unknown guy sends a message- Hi F##k! Now this was like a spark in the gunpowder. I wait for a while. But the fellow starts bragging- "I dunno y everyone wants to stay wid me", only to annoy me to the extent of losing all sanity. So I reply- "Well, thats coz ur sis is very pretty!" but what's this? Instead of my name, it shows 'Manish' in the bracket. So, I figure out the whole thing instantly and realize my blunder.
Manish, my dear friend and generous host (he's the guy in whose flat i'm putting-up presently) had kept his id open and the message which pissed me off was actually sent by his best friend at college and was meant for him. OOPS!! to set things right, I had to apologetically explain the whole situation and call Manish lest the scene might go out of control. So this is how I began the day!!
Thursday, January 31, 2008
SPEECHLESSNESS (II)
When a poet in solitude gazes at the divine splendour of the rising sun, he is filled with a flood of precious thoughts which he translates into poetry. To put it differently, he learns to speak a language which he had never known. Perhaps every artist undergoes this before giving shape to their creativity. But what if it started happening the other way round? leave alone learning some new language the poor fellow might forget even the language that he speaks. What a horrible situation it would be!! Speechless!! He would be totally Speechless, as if dumb. But this is a mere hypothesis. But can it ever happen in reality? Can anyone ever go through any experience so profound, that they go Speechless? Well, I certainly cannot answer it for artists, or anyone else for that matter, but for myself.
What I talked about in the part-I of this topic was when I had experienced speechlessness for the first time. What I am writing now is about my last speechlessness: the one I presently cherish. It is said that history repeats itself; badly so for me. The lad of high-school has grown-up today into a university student. But this time it was not like the last time which happened at the first glance. This time it was gradual. There are and have been many pretty faces around, who are, in common parlance known better as eye-candies. But she has, I feel, a kind of transcendental touch to herself as if living in this world she has remained totally untouched by its filth, reflecting something so ethereally soothing, as if divine. Not a tinge of cheapness(read phonyness). Yes, you might feel I'm now getting a little superfluous but this is my blog and I can go on and on about her. To be honest I can speak about all this because she is nowhere around, otherwise you know I would have gone, as I always go whenever she comes across-Speechless. So, the last time I became speechless was the last time I saw her, that is, a few hours ago; in the morning. But wait.... this speechlessness in not of choicelessness, but of choice!
BEAUTY-
Words are a hindrance,
Speech is futile,
Just feel, experience,
understand, and smile!!
What I talked about in the part-I of this topic was when I had experienced speechlessness for the first time. What I am writing now is about my last speechlessness: the one I presently cherish. It is said that history repeats itself; badly so for me. The lad of high-school has grown-up today into a university student. But this time it was not like the last time which happened at the first glance. This time it was gradual. There are and have been many pretty faces around, who are, in common parlance known better as eye-candies. But she has, I feel, a kind of transcendental touch to herself as if living in this world she has remained totally untouched by its filth, reflecting something so ethereally soothing, as if divine. Not a tinge of cheapness(read phonyness). Yes, you might feel I'm now getting a little superfluous but this is my blog and I can go on and on about her. To be honest I can speak about all this because she is nowhere around, otherwise you know I would have gone, as I always go whenever she comes across-Speechless. So, the last time I became speechless was the last time I saw her, that is, a few hours ago; in the morning. But wait.... this speechlessness in not of choicelessness, but of choice!
BEAUTY-
Words are a hindrance,
Speech is futile,
Just feel, experience,
understand, and smile!!
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Speechlessness!
There is a great deal to speak about speechlessness, but where do I start? I don't know, but I know I want to speak about it so here it goes...
"Speechless can the people be in two ways- if a person has a lot to say he doesn't have any point to speak (on), first is this. Second is, if a person has nothing to say he is speechless."
"Speechless can the people be in two ways- if a person has a lot to say he doesn't have any point to speak (on), first is this. Second is, if a person has nothing to say he is speechless."
(Someone)
Do I remember the last time I was rendered speechless? Perhaps yes, I do. I remember quite a few memorable occassions when I found myself speechless. Now, when I sitdown and nostalgically look back to those moments, I find myself speechless again.
THE PRICE I PAID FOR MY FIRST SPEECHLESSNESS!!
My memory doesn't allow me to go back beyond this incident. I was in high-school then, in 9th standard to be precise. I was not very different from how I am now except in terms of physique and my outlook towards various subjects. I belonged to the cadre of the very few "good boys" of the class who strictly adhered to certain principles or say rules which were then never meant to be broken. The mojority of the boys, however, comprised of those boys who were, atleast to me "bad boys". Now, what were the parameters to decide "good" and "bad" and distinguish, preserve and protect the former from the latter? Very simple!! Certain "topics" were bad topics and were not to be discussed. Talking about females was one of such topics. To make it more clear, If some perverted muddle-headed old man was invited by the school to deliver a lecture on what they called sex-education, being a good boy it would be my primary duty not to pay him any attention and when given a choice of leaving or remaining in the class, walk out without a second thought. And the "bad guys", well they-the shameless fellows would not only remain in the class but discuss each and every aspect with the oldy with utmost interest and enthusiasm. Even normally, the most interesting topic of discussion they preferred would be... what else? girls. So thats how our class was. But one fine morning, I remember it was saturday and I was in white uniform when a lanky guy fell nearly unconscious in the class. The curious class huddled around him to figure-out what had happened. I being the last guy to be in the crowd did not get up. Why get up yaar? The hardest thing for people in general and a crowd in particular is to keep their mouth shut. So why run after the news when its going to follow you wherever you go. But I turned my head towards the scene. And lo!! I was speechless!! Yes, completely speechless. There in the crowd stood-out a girl, who didn't seem to belong to this world. Who was she? Where had she come from? What was her name? And most of all, was she really a girl or an angel? All rules now seemed meaningless. The heart- for the first time I became aware that there was really something like that inside me and it would never listen to the head. It would now always command the head which would like a loyal slave turn to catch a furtive glimpse of that angel. But I the poor good guy screwed-up my studies that whole year. I who hardly missed classes became a truant just to avoid seeing her which would make me go....And who said this was enough? Compounding the situation was the in-going struggle between "good" and "bad" which was born out of the feeling of guilt for having broken the set rules. And there was nobody to talk to, this topic being a taboo. So I kept burning in the fire of guilt that whole year so much so that it paid me very well on the final marksheet and caused me to take the decision of taking admission in another school the next year.
Do I remember the last time I was rendered speechless? Perhaps yes, I do. I remember quite a few memorable occassions when I found myself speechless. Now, when I sitdown and nostalgically look back to those moments, I find myself speechless again.
THE PRICE I PAID FOR MY FIRST SPEECHLESSNESS!!
My memory doesn't allow me to go back beyond this incident. I was in high-school then, in 9th standard to be precise. I was not very different from how I am now except in terms of physique and my outlook towards various subjects. I belonged to the cadre of the very few "good boys" of the class who strictly adhered to certain principles or say rules which were then never meant to be broken. The mojority of the boys, however, comprised of those boys who were, atleast to me "bad boys". Now, what were the parameters to decide "good" and "bad" and distinguish, preserve and protect the former from the latter? Very simple!! Certain "topics" were bad topics and were not to be discussed. Talking about females was one of such topics. To make it more clear, If some perverted muddle-headed old man was invited by the school to deliver a lecture on what they called sex-education, being a good boy it would be my primary duty not to pay him any attention and when given a choice of leaving or remaining in the class, walk out without a second thought. And the "bad guys", well they-the shameless fellows would not only remain in the class but discuss each and every aspect with the oldy with utmost interest and enthusiasm. Even normally, the most interesting topic of discussion they preferred would be... what else? girls. So thats how our class was. But one fine morning, I remember it was saturday and I was in white uniform when a lanky guy fell nearly unconscious in the class. The curious class huddled around him to figure-out what had happened. I being the last guy to be in the crowd did not get up. Why get up yaar? The hardest thing for people in general and a crowd in particular is to keep their mouth shut. So why run after the news when its going to follow you wherever you go. But I turned my head towards the scene. And lo!! I was speechless!! Yes, completely speechless. There in the crowd stood-out a girl, who didn't seem to belong to this world. Who was she? Where had she come from? What was her name? And most of all, was she really a girl or an angel? All rules now seemed meaningless. The heart- for the first time I became aware that there was really something like that inside me and it would never listen to the head. It would now always command the head which would like a loyal slave turn to catch a furtive glimpse of that angel. But I the poor good guy screwed-up my studies that whole year. I who hardly missed classes became a truant just to avoid seeing her which would make me go....And who said this was enough? Compounding the situation was the in-going struggle between "good" and "bad" which was born out of the feeling of guilt for having broken the set rules. And there was nobody to talk to, this topic being a taboo. So I kept burning in the fire of guilt that whole year so much so that it paid me very well on the final marksheet and caused me to take the decision of taking admission in another school the next year.
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