SOULed out!

What's on my head? What's in my head?

2012-01-19T00:34:00.000-08:00

A deserted highway dhaba, a night train journey, memory faded.

What's on my head, what's in my head?

A stone of destroyed civilization, a conversation with the dead.

Smoke filled vagina, an uncrumpled bed.

A southern polestar, a rejection lip-shaded.

What's on my head, what's in my head?

An essay on my epitaph, children unbred.

A blood droplet on grass strand, a goodbye never said.

What's on my head, what's in my head?

Citylights on the horizon, innocence of child's question unsaid.

A dream of touching stardust, a curse of immortality casted.

What's on my head, what's in my head?

Sand in the pocket, a wave in the night divided.

Search of meaning in a dictionary, fear of life lying ahead.

A blank moment before banging door, a tear for the victim unrelated.

What's on my head, what's in my head?

(a picture to come later...what's on my head, what's in my head?)

Facebook looks like this

2011-12-26T23:58:00.001-08:00

The mermaid and the sea

2011-01-22T03:42:00.000-08:00

She was still amused in her world. Finding new caves, new tunnels, new alleys and new abyss. She was more attracted towards the unfathomable abyss. She was floating in one of them. A bright blue-green light was seeping in through her porous skin. Was she moving or was it the water? To make sure she stroked her tail. It was the water. Or maybe it was her mind. The red, the orange, the eyes, the sleeping eyes; through the eyelashes the red veins are opening in his mind. Pulsating blood, pumping heart and the cashew nut creases of the brain.

She was floating in his mind.

She met the memories from the other side; she met people from the past. She met aromas and touches. The softs, aggressive and sharp. His mind couldn’t sleep for years. Every moment of his being was there. Even those he was unaware of, and also those which he was deliberately and desperately buried. The smell of the ink and touch of her.

She got amused by the sea of possibilities and restrictions. The vomits of indigestion and the drugs of the dead were still stale. There were smiles and laughter of tears too. And there was a life in the blood and death in the air. Heart was stopping every moment to welcome death. Lung muscles were flexing to hold the moment of the death, and the mind was eager to go on the ultimate trip.

He also wanted the trip, and then everything transcended.

Everything stopped to wake into the other side. He was dead. And she lost her way out. She was trapped in his dream and figments of his mind.

She was missing her sea, her world. She was just thrown out in this city during the post-mortem. She was lying in the garbage in hospital’s backyard.

There were no magnificent lights emitted from the space, just ugly neon signs and sodium vapors. There was no omnipresent scent of memories just the stench of the dead mouse. She was in the real city, the real city in the real world. And she was no one there, like everybody else. She wanted to dive into the sea where her home was, she tried to stroke her tail, but there was no tail. There were two ugly long sticks with few joints and a fin like structure at the end of it. They were stuck to his waist, like everybody else. She saw around and everybody were standing and moving on those things instead of floating horizontally. They were legs. She also tried to stand, with immense effort, but failed miserably, and fell in the garbage. She was sad, and she felt water on her cheeks, seat water, and salty water. She was shocked, delighted and sad. But her tail was still legs.

After few minutes of effort she learned to balance and walk on her new found legs. Now she wanted to find the sea to dive in. she asked for the direction. It was a long walk, and the sun was breathing fire. She was about to pass out, but her natural defense system was still working. Or was it the water that was seeped into her skin. Wherever she was walking or standing she was leaving behind a trail of sea water behind. Her skin and clothes were wet all the time. She was saved by that.

She found the sea by a circular road. It was like a gallery to see the sea. A half opened shell by the sea shore. She was happy. There was still sea like smell left in those dark waters, she moved ahead. But the smell she smelled was of her nostrils. These waters were ugly and had unbearable stench. This was not the sea, it was a huge puddle. Her home can not be in there. Her home was way bright and beautiful.

She didn’t have anything to dive in. she just sat there till the sun dived into it. The atmosphere of this city, this smell of the city was also diving in through her skin, seeping in slowly. Pores of her skin were very numb by now. The city just seeped in silently. She stood up, turned around and saw the sea she was going to live her mortal life in.

The sea of people. The Mumbai city.

Wasted Years

2010-09-13T06:28:00.000-07:00

6:24 PM me: ok, so once a prophet reached till the end of the world, overcoming all the difficulties and -isms, and gaining philosophical knowledge which was more than necessary to spend a lifetime. now, he could actually see the world's end, many memories were flashing in front of his eyes, many people's voice was echoing in his head. He was just few steps away from the edge now, just a step more and he was there.

6:25 PM he could've got the ultimate shaanti, mukti, serenity, qayamat.

6:26 PM he paused for a moment there, he turned around, thought to himself-was there anything I should've done, is there anyhting which I will repent later- he didn't have any answer

6:28 PM He was a wise man, and he has shed greed during his journey. He was not thinking about any indulgence he might have missed, similarly he wasn't greedy to enter the new world either

he wanted that moment to come naturally to him.

6:29 PM but still why this dielemma-Wasn't is what I wanted to achieve?- he asked himself

Yes-was the obvious answer

real: ani mang?

me: he tried to meditate for a while

6:30 PM took a deep breath...he remembered his mother-she was dead now, he doesn't even remember how she died, he knew it by default

6:31 PM too another deep breath, he remembered his little sister, she was married, happily married and indulged into all primary sins, so was the case with his best friend

6:32 PM he knew even they could've paved this path to mukti with them- they had the ability in them

6:33 PM Then? what made them so weak? Weak? do you think you are stronger? isn't it the vanity? are you commiting a sin, at the edge of achieving the un-achievable?

6:34 PM No that was not the case, he tried to reason himself.

6:35 PM Maybe they didn't follow the path becasue they were too caught up in the mundane work, they didn't have time-like me- to delve into the search of finding the truth-they didn't have that drive, and resources to do that..

6:36 PM Oh so you are now Proud that you did what you did, you poor man, they are atleast happy wherever they are, they are rich, have family

6:37 PM and they achieved that by their hardwork--

6:38 PM well, I could've done that too-I remember how I helped them to sort their life's problems, in fact I remember how I helped everybody, and now they all are better settled than me.

--My my you are envious now, huh?

6:39 PM real: ohhh...this is going goooooo...oood..

stupid monks..

me: do you have anyone who would stand by you forever, they are helped and helping others.

6:40 PM unlike you, who only concerned about your own mukti

6:42 PM oh, you know nothing my inner voice, do you know through which pain I've been? do you know how does it feel to be alone, forever. do you know what it takes to avoid any temptations

6:43 PM You just need to sit there, be in hibernated state for all the life, just to wake up suddenly at the wrong moment and advice me

6:44 PM well, my brother I'm YOUR inner voice, as you have mentioned-so now we/You/I have commited two more sins-Wrath and Sloth

real: he has got so many unnessesary qstns man...he is a pseudo meditator...

6:45 PM me: well, just ask yourself, what did you missed in your life, if you don't feel anything you've missed then go on cross the line, attain the mukti

6:47 PM Your answer is expected to be negative, as you've commanded your senses and you have avoided all the sins-you shouldn't have anything you might wanted to try

said the prophet,

6:48 PM he woke up, was it the real tapsya he wanted to do always?

he didn't know how much years he was there

6:49 PM He still had questions, he still had answers to find

THE END

6:50 PM real: nice one dude..

liked it..

and i got the name for it..

THE WASTED YEARS...

6:51 PM The life is meaning less man.

we just exist because we exist...

there is no meaning or purpose for the existance..

6:53 PM wat u think?

me: yeah

6:54 PM you know what? I ddnt know what i was writing when i started

i just started with one sentence

real: ha ha ha..

shit happens..

6:55 PM me: once a prophet reached the end of the world...that's what i wanted to write

this was total spontaneous and live-i didn't copy-paste it from nowhere

shit

6:56 PM real: i know man..

it was spontaneous and it was true..

no bullshit to the point and nicely narrated..

6:57 PM me: if it's a complement, I'm happy

i think i should post it on my blog

as it is.

6:58 PM real: ya u shd...

Few posters for friends

2010-07-22T00:29:00.000-07:00

2010-06-22T07:59:00.001-07:00

Tejas Joshi

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Another Call

2010-04-13T08:11:00.000-07:00

Boredom is weird thing. Most of the time you can’t come to a logical conclusion of why you are bored; and you are bored to trace any emotional and psychological reasons behind it. Maybe because the reasons of boredom is ‘out of this world’! If we try meticulously then we can conclude that there are many types of boredom-Boredom of meeting people caused by a specific group of people; boredom of doing something, caused by doing something; boredom of moving from a place, caused by moving from places to places. Weird! Cause and effect both are identical. And then there is some serious boredom, which reason we can’t and don’t want to fathom.

Sheela was that kind of bored right now. And she’s been in this stage for few months now. Initially this boredom was transient, it used to house in Sheela’s mind for shorter time, and then she used to find things much exciting than the solace. But now she was stuck in a daily life. She was working now. She is from a middle class city, from a middle class family. But she is working in a bank in Mumbai-a basic nine to five job. She actually wanted such kind of job; because she thought she will get much free time to do the other things. But she didn’t aware of the life in the big city. She has to leave the home 2 hours before her office time and used to come home 2 hours after office. Adding to this she had a comparatively irritating roommate, who was overtly curious in other’s thing and life; plus she has a boyfriend too. Giving time to her boyfriend had become a ritual now. It’s not that there love has dried up, but she wanted something from herself. Not from anyone else, but from herself. And obviously her pursuit of happiness was taking toll on her boyfriend and their relationship. But she thinks that she was right, and all the other people also should find and pursue something different that usual. She can’t define what different and what usual mean.

So one day she decided that she will take some time off in her head, she will reserve a specific volume of brain for her ‘different’ things. But that was not to happen; she got extra work at the office on that day. She thought she will finish that work in record time so she could have time for herself, but for that she will have to open those reserved brain cells and have to put them to work. Fair trade, she thought. But on the same day her boyfriend had plans of going out, and he was audibly upset over the phone because of her absence.

Her target of finishing the work was postponed by two hours, meanwhile. She finished the work, and now there was no point going out just for the sake of it, still she called her boyfriend but he had gone out with his friends, and was drunk. Ok, as it is she didn’t want to go; but she really got upset by this thing. Ok if nobody cares for her, she cares for no one. But the phone rang, it was her mother, asking about her dinner, and overwork, and health. She hung up as fast as she can, of course after answering all the questions.

She came to her flat, after two hours. Her flat was a mess, there was a pizza box lying on the floor, loads of dishes in basin, and her roommate. Her roommate was trying out clothes in front of the mirror. After watching Sheela she shrieked, “We have a party tomorrow in the office, and can I wear your dress?” she has gone through her clothes and found out a perfect dress for her. Sheela nodded. “Which one will suit me?” the roommate shrieked again. But Sheela didn’t answer; instead she went in the bedroom and crashed in the bed.

What the heck, she had decided to live on her own terms, but nothing is going right. She decided it will not go for long; she will take some time off. She will pack her bags and will hit the road, RIGHT NOW!!

She pulled her sack from the wardrobe; her clothes were already out of the wardrobe. She packed some clothes she bought to wear on an outing but didn’t get any chance. She threw in sunscreen lotion, toothpaste, mobile charger, comb, shampoo bottle, soap, paper napkins, water bottle, water purifier, coffee pouches, magi packets, mug, and yawn! She was ready to go now. Yes she was ready to go NOW! Yawn! She thought if she leaves now, she will get no commute; she will reach at odd place at odd time. So why not leave tomorrow morning, very early morning, she reminded herself. And it’s better to go to hibernate state, so when she will wake up tomorrow she will be back on the same excitement level as of now. Early morning!!!!

Early morning, and she has left the house. It was really early morning, it was still dark and there was no sign of sunrise. She was standing on the bus stop. She checked the money in her wallet. She was feeling so stupid, she had decided to take where the wind takes her, and she was standing on the bus stop. Ok. She thought she will go to the nearest highway and then find a bus. She took an auto-rickshaw and got down near Mumbai Goa highway. Goa, her mind said subconsciously, it was the ultimate and most popular place for very popular adventure lovers.

She thought she will take the first bus going anywhere, but she left one bus going in the other direction. Finally she got a bus going south. She was feeling so proud of herself when she told the conductor to give her ONE ticket for the LAST STOP! She was enjoying the cool breeze of her independence, coming from the shuddering window. Finally she was proving her point. She was smiling continuously and enjoying the strange gazes by the strangers. She decided to remain happy. “Arrey close the window, the wind is so cold!” an old lady from the backside yelled from her muffler covered mouth. It was not that cold, Sheela thought, but she wants to be happy. So she closed the window.

After an hour the sun’s light became white and it was warm. The old lady from the backseat, now, said affectionately, “you can open the window now beta, I am a bit sick and can’t tolerate cold air. Where are you going?” “It’s OK Aaji; I’m going where the bus is going!” She is so smart, and her ‘different’ juices seem to be flowing out now! Soon they both got talking. The old lady is from a small town in konkan, and she has come to attend a wedding, she was accompanied by her granddaughter. “Do you have seashore in your village?” Sheela who has never been in a sea, asked. “Yes, you should come in our gaon, and particularly in this season, its mango season now. Get down with us!” Aaji said jokingly, and she got unexpected affirmative reply from Sheela! Sheela then tried to explain how she has no particular destination to go, and she wants to chill out a little, etc. But now Aaji was little hostile, how she can really take a stranger girl to her home. But Sheela assured her that she will not be a bojh on her or her family member, she will find her arrangement to reside. Aaji was still uncomfortable with this mentality of a young girl, she nodded confusingly.

So they got down at a town. Here onwards, they will have to travel by a tumtum to aaji’s village. Aaji’s daughter was super excited with Sheela coming to their home, and was chattering consistently. Sheela paid for her own fare. Aaji met other people from their village in the tumtum. It seems everybody knows everybody here. Aaji introduced Sheela to everyone as her guest. They got down near the main bazaar of the village. Sheela was so excited and happy. The sound and smell of this bazaar was way different than Mumbai’s crowd. It smelt fresh fishes, fresh vegetables, and fresh MANGOES! Sheela took the kid, aaji’s granddaughter, with her and bought a variety of mango that are sucked. Sheela remembered the days when she was a kid. She used to open these mangoes and the juices used to flow along her arms on her clothes and all over her face. She was eating the mango in the same style now, shedding all the inhibitions of a city girl. She wants to go to the beach. She asked Aaji the address of her house and way to the beach. She said she will come to aaji’s place in the afternoon.

She was almost running towards the beach, holding a mango in one hand, and the other hand supporting her sack. First she smelled the salty sea air, without a hint of staleness, and then she heard the roaring sound of sea. Her heart was pouncing in her chest; she was not been so much excited in a long time. It was awesome. Yellow fine sand was everywhere in that town. People were so happy, clean and tidy, they were looking curiously at this girl in 3/4^th Capri, loose T-shirt and colourful bag, running waywardly. There was a small jungle of bigger shrubs. Sheela was sure she will find sea on the other side of it. She increased her speed, the sound of sea was increasing, and a turn and she will find the sea. But she stopped, she was breathing hastily. She thought of her life, the things she wanted to do, her journey from the morning, it was still morning and she was nearer to herself. She didn’t know she will find herself so near! She turned back, looked at the distant roofs of the town, looked up in the blue sky, breathed deeply; she could taste the sand through her nostrils. She started walking backwards, towards the sea, she was guided by the breeze, and the hands of the sea were guiding her. It was silent, very silent, only the enormous sound of the waves, calling her name. She knew she is on the beach now. She closed her eyes in joy, her heart beats slowed down, she was breathing inconsistently. Her heart almost stopped beating, and then she turned around, the sound of the sea panned from left to right and right to left. She opened her eyes. Everything vanished, Sheela herself vanished.

And she started running towards the sea, the waves were signalling her to come in. She took off her bag, her sandals, and she shot in the sea. The sudden soft resistance of the waves, she was not prepared for this and she fell in. She was laughing out loud. The waves were like her long lost friends, they were happy to find her between themselves too. She went deep, she wasn’t afraid of the water; she was a good swimmer, though it’s her first encounter with the sea. In Mumbai she used to hate the black ugly sea. But this was a different sea, pure, warm hearted, blue! She felt the real love, pure love, without the name of any relation. Just Love!

She wanted to go in, inside the sea, deep. She looked around and found 2-3 stray boats on the shore. She got out, took her things, and went there. A young koli was looking at her for a long time. Sheela was overwhelmed and exhausted by now, but still was excited. The young koli smiled at her brightly. “Are you going in? Can you take me in to the sea?” Sheela requested. “This is not a tourist boat Tai” the koli explained. “I’m not a tourist, I’m a wanderer. Just take me with you, I can pay you.” Sheela really wanted to go in. “But I will come back late in the after noon.” “That’s OK” “let me ask kaka” There was an old kaka sitting in another boat. He said it’s a bad omen to take a lady on a boat when you are going for a business, to catch fish. Young koli argued with him for a while.

He came back to Sheela. “Kaka will not like it, but you can come if you want.” The young koli said and extended his hand for support. Sheela was jumping up and down and got on board. The koli pushed his boat in the sea. It was a small wooden boat, with no shelter. A white nylon net was lying in the front half of the boat. Sheela was sitting in the middle. Sheela was curious about koli’s daily life. The koli was explaining the technique of catching fish and types of fish. Sheela was trying to know the harm the fishing cause to the environment; she was an environment conscious city girl! But she dropped the topic; she was here to get to know herself. She came to know quite a few things about herself. They have come quite a distance now; the koli was busy in setting the net for catching fish. The land was too far. Sheela looked towards the bare chest koli; she was a young beautiful girl away from the shore with a stranger. Koli looked back at him, smiled broadly. Sheela remembered he called her Tai- elder sister. The sea was cleaner and calm here, there was no signs of waves.

Sheela was playing with the water. She wanted to get in the deep blue water. She asked koli, “dada can I dive inside? I can swim.” Koli asked her to dive in the opposite side as he has lain net in this side, and asked to be aware of the net. Sheela was pleased. She took off her bag; put her wallet in the bag. And was ready to dive in, getting in to the deep, caring sea. She believed she will find something more about herself in the sea, every time the sea gives you something. She removed her sandals. She sat on the edge of the boat turning her back to the sea, took a deep breath and left the edge of the boat, falling backwards...

The last thing before splashing in the water she realized was her phone ringing in her pocket, she had forgotten to keep it in the bag. And SPLASH!!!

It was her boyfriend was calling; the phone sank into the water. He heard, “The person you are trying to reach is busy on another CALL!!!!!”

Why don't we want Sania Mirza to be happy!?

2010-04-05T03:44:00.000-07:00

I got a SMS this morning from a friend (?), a hate message about Sania Mirza getting married to Shoaib Malik. That friend is a decent guy on the onset, he talks formally and lovingly to every one, he really cares for his friend, and a good friend overall. But the message got me disturbed, it has attacked Sania and Shoaib in very indecent language and it has asked me to forward the message to all the Indians! Why? If I hate the sentiments expressed in the message then as per the holy book of Indianness I am not a true Indian? I like Sania, her game, her beauty, and the way she makes our India proud. But why she is attacked by these moral police-boons? They critiqued her because she wears skirts while playing, in fact if skirts are indecent then dhotis are equally indecent! Why hate fellow Indians and then conceal the hatred under the tricolour of India? Why we hate Sania Mirza, one reason is definitely because she is a Muslim. And hating Muslim is one of the commandments of being an Indian, I guess. We swore by the sahishnuta of the greater religion of India- the Hindu. But I think the other religions, called as minority, have more sahishnuta than these Hindus; rather they have no other choice to live in India. I know that there is instability in every religion, and we can’t single out a religion for propagating hatred towards others. But let’s not mix religion with nationality; India is not a Hindu nation, as far as I know. Hindu fundamentalist can’t form definitions of ‘True Indians’. If they want to, then obviously I don’t fit the bill and I have no other choice than hating (again) these Indians.

We Indians carry this application form when we move on streets, when we have chance at making friends, when we are asked to support a cause, when we support our cricket team (or for that matter the IPL team). The application forms has columns for name, the full name, actually most importantly your last name, the place of your birth and upbringing, your religion, your cast, creed and so on. When I meet anyone for the first time I have to fill this form and have to ‘apply’ for their friendship or acquaintance.

And I answer those questions. “Name?” “Tejas” “NAME?” “Oh...Tejas Joshi” “ohh Brahmin, which subcaste?” “Does it matter? OK, koknastha” “hmm bloody koknastha, huh? Gotra?” “I don’t know” “What do you mean you don’t know” I shrug. “Ok Where is you from?” “Nashik” “OK so you are Marathi, a Raj Thackeray supporter, huh?” OR “Ok so do you know this guy, I’m sorry but all the Nashik-kar I came across are like this and that” “Well, I’m not” and so on, (though the order of question changes and few questions are added or omitted based on the kindness of the person) at the end of it they make a decision based on their presumptions, but me? I’m still confused; I don’t know whether he is a friend! I’m such a non-Indian, I guess, what a pity?

Why? Why I should carry my identity card with me always, why can’t I communicate in a natural way, like the dogs do, (well they also do piss and sniff!)

Well, I think there is something wrong with the Indian-ness. It’s still a vague concept for us. May be because we didn’t earn the Independence of India, and by ‘we’ I don’t mean our generation, I really mean WE, THE INDIANS. Before the British captured India slowly using their skills and technique, we didn’t have the sense of nationality, we were either living under Maratha regime, nizaamshahi, aadilshahi and others, right from the Mauryas and other dynasties. We had an idea of regionalism, and had ambitions of expanding our regime, we were extremely brave too, but we were not Indians. British captured and ruled this region called Indian subcontinent of Asia, and governed it for 150 years or so. Slowly we got restless living under the raj, we were against the slavery, and wanted our land back, and now as the land was expanded from now Pakistan to now Bangladesh, our krantikaris fought against the British Raj in capturing back this piece of land, now was being called India. British didn’t have captured India, but we got India from them. Wow! Our krantikaris were really genuine and brave guys I don’t doubt them but nationalism or Indian nationalism is a modern and alien concept for us. We are still regionalist people at heart; we still divide based on caste. Creed, religion and region, that’s the problem I guess, I think if British wouldn’t have came we would be a bunch of small countries like Europe or Africa or like the countries those were part of U.S.S.R. but now not the part of Russia.

And while getting the independence for India, Pakistan and Bangladesh we had to suffer from the bad partition, which might have fuelled the hatred against Indian Muslims, and Pakistani Hindus and Sikhs.

We did earn Independence by our sweat and blood. But the masses need someone to follow after. In the independence war not every slave of British Raj wanted independence at his heart, but they believed their leaders and a huge (I think the biggest) movement of Independence arose. We believed in Bhagatsingh, we believed in Chandrashekhar Azaad, we believed Savarkar, we believed in Mangal Pandey (no no we didn’t believe him!) well but we believed our modern leaders like Mahatma Gandhi, and Pt. Jawahrlal Nehru, and Sardar Patel. And now we are getting a new breed of leaders that are again posing to stand against the big bad governance of India, and these leaders are Shriram Sene, Bajrang Dal, Shivsena, Maharashtra Navnirman Sena, and VHP etc. Not all but a major chunk of our society believes in them. I know because this morning I got a SMS. We still hate Indian Muslims more than Pakistanis. I know many literate and cultured people who just hate Muslims from the end of their neurons just because they are Muslims. One of my colleague actually said that he knows a guy who’s really warm hearted and very kind person but he hated him because he has married to his own sister, and believes that all the Muslims are like that. Strange. Scientist has found that all the mankind has evolved from seven mothers; our mankind can be traced back to seven women. And to reach to today’s population of over 600 crores we can’t state, that no cultured society hasn’t cross bred in their own family. In fact in the prehistorian era cross breeding in the family had to be a normal thing to expand and strengthen their group.

Well ironically I got another SMS from the same friend again praising Sai Baba, and again the message asked me to forward the message to all true Sai devotees, and the people who love Sai Baba!(fortunately I don’t love any baba other than my baba(father)!) As far as I know Sai Baba is praised and loved equally by Hindus and Muslims. (Well this message was also carried a hidden discrimination towards non-Sai devotees.)

Well as far as I am concerned, my definition of being Indian is getting happy with the genuine happiness of fellow humans/Indians. And I’m happy that Sania and shoaib are happy together, I guess. (Though I’m sad that heartthrob of our generation is getting married!)

Well if you come across any such message, think and answer them with your true sentiments, do not forward answers. We can do this much in respect of the free mobile technology we got!

Tejas Joshi's unnamed post.

2010-02-23T04:17:00.000-08:00

“Why is Chiku still in bed?” Chiku’s father, Atul, was astonished. It was not Sunday or any other holiday. Chiku was in his grandmother and his room. Chiku’s mother and father were in hurry of leaving for office. They both work. Chiku’s mother used to ready him for school before they leave.

Atul wanted his son to be always ahead in life and be a successful man, like him. He was working in a national investment firm. Wow.

“Come on get up Chiku, why don’t you wake up on time? You know what happened to bad kids? Dragoon from china takes them to the land of communist, where you can’t spend money as and when you want. When I was of your age...” Chiku’s mother came to the room hearing the raised voice. Chiku’s grandmother was also trying to explain something to Atul. “It’s getting late Atul” Anita, chiku’s mother, Atul’s wife, grandma’s daughter-in-law said, “drop me to my office first, let’s go” Chiku was still held by his hand by his father, he was half in bed and half in air; he was half covered in blanket, and his other hand was being pulled by his grandmother. He was confused, whether to cry or not.

“Arrey, leave him, HE IS NOT FEELING WELL!” Chiku’s grandmother was a school teacher, and she knows how to make her presence felt in chaos. “He is not feeling well” she said it again as if uttering those words for the first time. “What? What happened?” Atul realized his mistake, he felt that chiku’s hand was little warmer than normal. Atul checked his temperature, Chiku had fever. “Let’s go, I’ve called Doctor, he’ll come here I’ve told Aai to take his care, I’ll be calling him.” Anita told everything in a breath and then turned to Chiku. He placed Chiku well in bed, put the blanket around him and kissed him on forehead. “Beta, we’ll have to rush off. Aaji is here with you, I’ll call you from office, and doctor uncle will come to check you. Anita said the same things again, now just for Chiku. Chiku nodded.

Aaji went to the main door to see Atul and Anita off. She closed the door, and sighed. Chiku also sighed in his bed. He has indeed started to feel ill now, more than he is supposed to feel. Aaji returned to his room, with a steaming bowl of kheer, a glass of water and something in a little dish. “Have this, and you will feel better, even before doctor comes” “No I don’t want anything, nobody cares for me” by saying this Chiku pulled the blanket over his head. “Arrey see here what I’ve brought you” Aaji tried, but Chiku knew Aaji’s this trick. Aaji pulled the blanket away from his face, “They have to go to the office each day” Aaji said. “Even when their single child is not feeling well?” Chiku was clearly upset. “Who said you are not well. You know why your temperature is warm today?”, “Why?” “You like tea? Right? Though it’s not good for your age. But how do you like it? If we mix water, milk, sugar and tea leaves together, will you like it? No. Because, it has to be heated and mixed well, for perfect taste. Our body is like a tea kettle. We study, we play, we listen to stories, we paint, we fight; but to make it all enjoyable our body needs to mix it all up, and heat it. That’s why our body is warmer than non-living things. Today your body has warmed up a little more.” While explaining this Aaji was feeding kheer to Chiku. “Just like when Mom keeps the gas on and milk spills out!” Chiku extended the logic. “Correct, so what we do to cool tea down, we blow on them, and keep it aside in a saucer. So just like that you will rest for today and tomorrow you will be alright!” Aaji cheered him up. Chiku was excited but then he realized that if he gets alright he will have to go to the school, which was a catch. So his mind was filled by school thoughts, anger, fantasy, love and care, Aaji. It was a hot tea spot now, where all this things were getting mixed up.

And he was feeling sleepy. Aaji covered him in blanket, took the book she was reading and rested on her bed.

The threads of blanket was going in his nostril, he sneezed out his sleep, and like a big bang explosion his eyes opened up. He came to senses after 10^-42seconds, and he was blank for next 3 seconds. Well, he saw that Aaji’s head was actually buried in the book she was reading. She was holding the book in her hands, her trunk was visible, and neck was there, but her face was actually transformed in to a 2-dimensional plane, and fused with the book. He saw a red ball was bouncing of the walls continuously like a computer game; he had lost that red ball and was searching for it from few days. He moved ahead to grab that ball, his blanket elevated slowly, but a lizard from the roof moved ahead, her head become so large, she had eyes of the colour of puke, she leaped ahead and swallowed that red ball. Then her gaze moved towards Chiku. Chiku grabbed the flying blanket and tried to hide under it. But again the threads went in his nostrils and he sneezed loudly, the blanket flew off and fell on the lizard. The lizard actually got scared by it, and ran away making a barking sound. A stray dog near Chiku’s house made a similar sound when Chiku threw a lit cracker bomb on him and it exploded.

Well, after he sneezed his room got transformed in a mirror glass tube. He was standing at one end of it, and by the air pressure of his sneeze the other end was getting stretched out, that lizard was running away but the surface was too shiny and slippery for her to run fast. The suction cups on her feet were unable to make a contact as the inner wall of the tube was also spinning abruptly. But she managed to run towards the other end. Chiku was back lit now, and laser lights were flickering indiscriminately in the tube. He laughed, and his voice echoed. He laughed loudly, and echo was loud. He laughed even louder and shrieked in joy. The other end of the tube started to come closer by now. And the glass walls couldn’t take his shriek and a small crack appeared on the wall above Chiku’s head, Chiku looked at it, it started to expand slowly, the other end was also nearing creating pressure on that crack. Chiku heard a sound like a roar, it was mixed with barking. Suddenly the glass walls exploded, but the glass pieces got dissolved in thin air instead falling down. The tube just disappeared. And now he was on a summit of a great mountain. The sound of roar was coming nearer, he peeked over the edge, and the lizard was coming towards him barking loud. Chiku smiled, he knew how to scare the lizard. He picked a strand of grass and inserted in his nostrils, and he sneezed loudly. The lizard slid down a little bit but continued soon. Suddenly, Chiku sensed that there was a roar sound coming up from the sky. He looked up. And what he saw was jaw-dropping....

...

A dragon was flying in the sky, and coming furiously towards him.

...

The flapping of his wings was causing a big storm, and the trees on his way ere getting destroyed by that storm. His claws were by of titanium, and he was breathing out poisonous blue gas. And for no reason he was roaring and spitting fountain of fire. One such moment he exhaled fire and smoke at the same time, he was out of breath for a few moments, his face turned blue and he forgot to flip wings. But he recovered soon, and regained his wrath.

Meanwhile the lizard came up, and was moving towards Chiku. Chiku stretched hand and grabbed the blanket from his bed. He made some nan-chaku moves with that blanket, and smashed on the lizard’s head. But the lizard grabbed the end of the blanket in her toothless mouth; Chiku hurled the other end, and the lizard with it. The lizard got thrown in air and got bumped on the flying dragon. The lizard’s tail got detached from her body, the lizard fell off the cliff but the tail remained, moving like she has her own life.

The dragon landed on the ground in front of Chiku. Chiku was backing out; this was the same dragon his father used to mention about. The dragon looked at Chiku with his fiery eyes, and was moving towards Chiku. He remembered all the gruesome description his father has portrayed of the killing by the dragon. The dragon’s footsteps were causing tremors through the whole mountain range. Chiku thought of his father and all the crazy ideas he used to tell him to destroy the dragon. And to Chiku’s surprise, his mom and dad came there climbing the cliff. Chiku was moved, he was cursing his dad in the morning but before any superhero could reach there, his mom and dad arrived to save Chiku. His dad fired a range og credit cards on the dragon, but the dragon chewed it all. then his father started dancing and singing loud, and built a space ship to move the dragon’s attention. Then mom and dad started kissing each other to scare the dragon off, Dragon was disturbed a little. Chiku didn’t understand nothing. But the dragon regained his posture again, and breathed a fire shower on them, Chiku’s parents ran and was safe. As the last defence Chiku’s father picked up the half dead tail of the lizard and started hitting the dragon by it. Dragon moved his own tail and smacked them both in one fine move. They both fell off the cliff, where the lizard was waiting for them.

Now Chiku wanted some real superheroes to save him Chiku called for Superman, Batman, Spiderman, they all came flying. They saw the Dragon with furious anger. They saw the hammer and sickle on his forehead and they got even more furious. They attacked the dragon, but from the dragon’s body the similar anti-superheroes appeared. They were made up of plastic, but they were more in numbers, they attacked the real superheroes and destroyed them in no time, in this battle many of the fake superheroes also got smashed. Now Chiku was alone with the dragon. He was scared. In a poor attempt to save him, he picked up a stone and hurled at the dragon.

Suddenly, earth shattering sound rocked the mountain, the sky got clouded, and there was flashes circling the earth. And up from the sky Chiku’s aaji came down flying. She has tucked her sari well, and ready to take the dragon down. And what was his secret weapon? She has the rolling pin, with which she used to make perfect chapattis. She showed off some kung-fu moves. She said hi to Chiku, Chiku was ecstatic, and jumping hysterically.

Aaji jumped up in the sky, did a sumersault and landed behind the dragon. She picked the dragon by his tail and hurled in the air and threw off the cliff. Dragon was furious, while falling down he flipped wings and got in the air and attacked aaji again. But Aaji was ready for him. She took him by his nose smacked in the ground, and put the pressing roll in his nostrils, it was smashed now. Then she tore out his wings, and again hurled off the cliff. This time he didn’t have wings to flip...

Then Aaji saved Chiku’s mom dad also.

Chiku was running towards his aaji to hug, when he rolled down a stone and fell on the ground.

At the same time, he woke up in his bed; he was sweating by all this experience. Aaji was seating in front of him. “Look your fever is gone! Wait I’ll make tea for us”, Aaji checked him and said. She turned around and went inside the kitchen to make tea.

But the press role in her hand didn’t go unnoticed from Chiku.

(with massive inputs from Lee)

Newton's Cradle

2010-02-11T01:06:00.001-08:00

2010-02-11T01:03:00.001-08:00

I am dead

2010-02-09T02:57:00.000-08:00

Am I dead or only feeling like it?
What actually is death, death is to you or for others, yours or theirs.

The stink of old humid newspapers,
the characters are washed up, the news of no use
the faces pasted with smiles, ants have eaten up right cheek
kids are older than my grandmother now
the hand in my mouth could not fathom words

there was an offshoot too, bright green
I have kept electric motors in that old box lost its sheen,
what date is today, when did I breath last time

I used to feel my last part of lungs getting swollen up

Now the dust fills my nostrils
All those memories are mixed in it
I fear that they will think I’m a seed
I don’t wanna sow me all over again

But no it won’t happen, it won’t happen
that was my last wish written on my epitaph

Two gates

2009-09-18T07:44:00.000-07:00

Redbull presents

“TWO GATES”

When Bunty gained his consciousness the picture in front of him wasn’t much different. People were still laughing at him, though the people around him this time were strangers and the atmosphere was a lot divine that the last time. There was a guy with big thin glasses and a big feather pen. Then there was a really old guy with three faces and he was laughing out loud by all three mouths he got. Then there were two security personal type men holding some kind of useless ancient weapons in hand. And they all were wearing golden crowns and lots of jewelry and rich clothes. They seem to be from rich family or maybe some eventually rich robbers. There was a huge desk with an enormous book on it. Behind that there were two huge gates, one golden and other metal.

Bunty is feeling a lot lighter now. With almost no effort he sat on the soft carpet. He was still confused and very agitated, everybody was laughing at him. His annoyance almost tasted its limits. He stood up, he was still confused about the location, “ok, shut up now!” he yelled, “Where am I, is it some kind of hospital?” As an answer to his question the laughter even increased. After one more wave of laughter the man with the big specs said, “You are dead, this is the infamous ‘two gates’ of heaven and hell” “What?” Bunty exclaimed, “Why? I mean just like that? Are you mad? Who are you people?” The three faced man spoke, “You don’t know me?”, his voice was sounding very tired and experienced, and also a little ill, “I am the Brahma, The Brahma” due to speaking through three mouths his voice was resounding in the environment. “The creator of this srishti, and he, he is Chandrgupt, my clerk, he writes everyone’s destiny and keeps the account of everyone’s paap and punya”

“Ok” Bunty said, “You look a lot weird and scary than your depiction in our TV serials, The actors look at least looks a lot calm and trustworthy, though they act very quirky in that jewelry. Alright forget that, tell me why am I dead? They say you keep account of deeds of our human and then decide whom to die or for that matter whom to kill from here, eh?”

“Yeah, you are right”, Chandragupt said handing Bunty a piece of sweet, “Take this, the best sweet in all the three worlds, best in the whole universe” “What for?” Bunty asked. “Well, I am giving this treat” Chandragupt said giving The Brahma a piece of sweet. “Ho…ho…ho…”Laughed the Brahma in appreciation, “have it son, he has won a contest organized in the hell and heaven” ‘Brahma laugh like Santa’ Bunty thought. “well which contest” “as the result of which contest you came here”, explained Chandragupt, “We were getting a little bored keeping the regular account, You humans are too judgmental and very predictable, for past few years apart from the newly created disease you people weren’t dying by any new reasons. The regular diseases, accidents and old age, still you can’t find answers to some diseases like AIDS, we were expecting you humans will find answer to these diseases very early, by the way AIDS was also a winner of similar contest.” Bunty was getting more and more confused and this Chandragupt guy was getting on his nerves. “So to overcome this boredom”, Chandragupt continued, “his highness Mr. the Brahma organized this contest, ‘the funniest death’, everybody participated from these two worlds in it. You have to take into account the background of the particular subject and then prove that such death can occur to that subject, and mind you it has to be funny. I won the contest and you are my prize!” Chandragupt concluded with pride.

Bunty was furious hearing this. “What? You killed me just for fun, just to laugh on my death?” he screamed “I am just a ‘subject’ for you people? The funniest death, eh. You assholes, scoundrels, and you are ruling us…you can’t imagine how much do I hate you?” “Whoa! Watch your language son”, The Brahma snapped back, “but you know I’m in a humorous mood now, and technically using foul language can’t harm you now. Because after death, after your spirit has left your body on Earth till you enter one of these gates, the deeds you have done will not be counted in any of the books!” “Shut up you three faced moron” Bunty was furious, “don’t teach me what to do and not. And you Chandragupt, I’m your prize, eh? Bloody rascal, you are fortunate that, I don’t know much of foul words.” The Brahma and Chandragupta look at each other confusingly, and start laughing at Bunty’s this demonstration of fury. Hearing all these noise people from heaven and hell also gather at the gates. Bunty is looking at all these dead souls, and reaches the desk of Chandragupt, “So this is your famous book of accounts, eh” Bunty clings his palm on the edge of the desk, he remembers Chandragupt’s explanation of his death, and “You think you are funny, eh? You think you deserve this job?” saying this he grabs the desk and throws it in the air. The desk goes up at height even Bunty haven’t expected, and comes down. Bunty is amazed at the demonstration of his powers, “How?” he asks The Brahma unknowingly. “Well”, The Brahma starts to explain, “As I told you your deed in this buffer period is not counted, similarly you are not abiding by any physical rules in this period. You are what you think you are. You can do anything in this period. Actually I shouldn’t tell you this in this mental condition, but you know, by default we can not tell lies!”

Now, Bunty has a wicked smile on his face. Chandragupt realizes what going on his mind; he is good at his job. Bunty moves towards the fallen desk to test his powers again. He grabs the table in one hand and whirls it up in the air, it goes up and up. “You want fun, eh? You got it!” he picks up the huge book of accounts, Chandragupt runs to save his work, Bunty turns and kicks Chandragupt in stomach, he flies and crashes on the compound of hell. The people of hell gets delighted, they started cheering Bunty up. Bunty tears the book apart. He picks up the pen and moves towards the Brahma. He sprays the ink on the Brahma’s all three faces. “You want fun Brahma boy, eh?” he grabs his feet and whirls him in the direction of hell, Brahma crosses the compound wall in air and lands in the hell where the hell boys were waiting for him, and you don’t want to know what happened next. Bunty then uses the pen on Chandragupt at the oddest of place. Then he moves towards the heaven doors. The two security guards were not much of the tension. Surprisingly the heaven was also cheering him up, they were too straight people they just want to save their skins and they have earned all their punyas by worshipping the powerful. He breaks the heaven gate, and then hell gates. Everybody was happy at his enormous powers.

Now he has two worlds and the book and pen of Chandragupt to decide the fate of the third world. He moves with his army towards the EARTH!!!

If you have read this story you are a winner in yourself!! Redbull brings you the divine competition. Now you can participate in “The Funniest Death” competition too. Now drink a can of Redbull that will give you wings, then attach those wings to your creativity and tell us ‘How did Bunty die?’ think of your version of “The Funniest Death” and send your entries to us.

Page 2

2009-09-10T01:48:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer(!): there are references to living and fictious characters..but the story is still fictional..Don't mind!

First Page, First Graphic Novel/comic book

2009-09-09T01:20:00.000-07:00

The sketching, screeching, leching and fetching begins! It's my first attempt in a comic book/graphic novel (I'm so amateur that i don't even know, what to call this!)

I am planning to publish one page daily, or 7 pages a week..let's see if I keep my words (for the first time!) This book will have many superheroes, many countrys, many villains, and lots of world politics, and ofcourse ALIENS!!
Let's see how it goes!
give me reviews about the style, and suggest me the name.

Nashik, I love you, I leave you!

2009-06-28T23:44:00.001-07:00

On a day like any other day a shootout happened. But it was different. The location was unusual, the time was remarkable, and the death was of the usual suspect.

Last week on the bank of Godavari in Nashik, police killed a criminal. I don’t know whether the word ‘killed’ is right or not or it should be assassin, or may be terminated, whether it was a salvation or a regular encounter.

The name of the criminal was Vishwanath Katare. He was booked under many serious offenses like murder and extortion. Police said he was a freelancer; he was only killing for money. And the police are being lead in Nashik by Mr. Visnu Mishra.

Let’s go a bit more back on the timeline. Vishnu Mishra was the D.C.P. of Nashik. He was strict on criminals and arrested many criminals from every political party. And then something very usual in governance happened, he was transferred; or relieved from his duties to serve in Central Government service. Bu the citizens who ere happy by his way of working protested and the leaders, the home ministry had to bent in front of the protest. The transfer order was cancelled, he was back. And he was back in disciplining the town.

And one day police got a tip off that Katare is coming to tapovan for smoking weed. By the way Tapovan is a land where Lord Ram, Seeta and Laxman were supposed to have lived in their years of exile. Police set a trap and tried to arrest him, and as per the police story, he opened fire on Police and the Police had to kill him in self defense. And the news flashed on the news channels, Mr. Mishra is giving orders on the location of the shootout and other regular heroic stuff. Smoking indeed kills!

By the comeback of the D.C.P. the police force of Nashik was so charged and motivated that it sort of sought to terminate all the crimes from the town, so novella, and so hollywoodish. They were trying to regain the title of Sri Ram Bhoomi to the town, may be.

And now…

The police are so active, so proud, so efficient. Now they don’t let criminal roam free in the town, and they don’t let anyone roam free in the town. With the setting sun the police force arises. They patrol the streets, they patrol the bridges, the patrol hotels, and they patrol parks. The shops are down and closed by 10 pm. You don’t get cigarettes, you don’t get milk, you don’t get even maggi after that. It’s a sin to be hungry after 10pm. Last year health ministry formed rules that you cannot smoke in public places, that also means you can smoke at non-public places, and streets were defined as non-public. But hell, Nashik police reads from another rulebook. If you found smoking anywhere you are not even scolded or fined, you are taken into custody.

The government is calling meetings to make amendments in the code 377, and changing the definitions of ‘unnatural sex’, and might allow gay marriage under this amendment. But again Nashik Police reads from some vedic magical rulebook, which says chatting of a boy and a girl is as indescent as having sex in public! The sperms may get transmitted through the thin air. Well there is a exception to that rule, you have to be married to talk in public at night, if you are married, you have little irritating kids, you don’t have a ray of hope in your life, then hell yeah, you can seat and talk all night long.

Well, police is doing great job they say, citizen forums are giving public application to the police to rule their areas of living too. They are coming ant congratulating police with flowers.

I leave Nashik, I leave rules!

The rain, the city and the love

2009-06-06T12:28:00.000-07:00

I was standing at my house’s window, and I saw a couple walking down the street. They didn’t know that I can see them, as this boy was trying to woo his girlfriend by saying, “There’s no one on the road, not ahead us and not behind…” The girl was just refusing bluntly. The boy is so desperate, he continues, “Just give me a kiss!”

It’s raining continuously since last 4-5 days; rain does create a romantic mahaul around! I uttered “sick!”

The city, that is Mumbai (am I being so stylish!?), was slowed down or stopped in parts. I am home for last two days, first day was my weekly-off, and yesterday was off because of rain. Have you ever walked in waist deep water with your clothes on? Well yesterday I tried that…trying to fit in the typical picture showing a bechaara Mumbaikar. In fact, an oily fat boy was recording me in his fat cell camera standing under his colourful fat umbrella, with a fat oily glee, fatass! Like, I’m a flood victim. I just wanted to have that experience on which the whole Mumbai has a veiled pride. The human always love to be in misery…the world is treating me bad, Misery. And Mumbaikars are more into this being miserable thing. They want to show their fighting spirit under the veil of misery.

I am in Mumbai for last 3 months (soon turning to FOUR!!), and I never liked Mumbai for even a moment. Yeah, I love to see the human society and their behaviours, but this city is so plastic, and ‘programmed’ to be alive. I mean at first look you may think that the city has great pace and people are so dedicated and alive and that joie de vivre thing and all…but once you start to live in the city I mean really into the city, with no other choice…the city comes out to be totally different than what it seems to be.

I always think that Mumbai lacks style, the kinda style Delhi has, Pune has. Mumbai lacks the personality, again Delhi, Pune, Nashik and every other town has. Mumbai just bunch of crowd. They don’t even have arrogance in style…Arrogance is the most stylish trait of mankind. They are just ignorant and frightened to give acknowledge to anything happening around. They are fearful of theft, murder, extortion, rape, robbery, epidemic, Tsunami, crash in Sensex and what all. They hardly care about the government’s last week position (the only fear of the re-elections. Although I don’t think most of them votes, or have an independent say.), they don’t care about the nuke deal (they are ready to comment on America, and Bihar with the same loud voice), thee don’t love thy neighbours. I have heard many communal and geographical remarks in the local trains. I used to think that Raj Thakre (or Thackeray?), have created this hatred towards biharis and bhaiyyas. But Raj Thakre has just given the voice to the hatred, now people blame openly to each other for the condition of Mumbai (like they care about Mumbai, huh!?). I mean this doesn’t lessen Raj’s sins.

I think this city is not a city, it’s just a crowd each one is pursuing his own dream of being a little better than today, most of them don’t even have big dreams. Well, there’s bollywood in the city, which gives a stencil of dreams to the youth. As far as I’m concerned, I’m a part of media industry, I too dream…of making movies, making all kinds of movies, making personal movies. Because of this dream, I don’t like my current job as an assistant producer in a TV channel that’s yet to be launched. I don’t participate in any creative meets, as I truly think any idea of our channel is not creative enough to be creative. Well, this view has an anti-view that, in such situation I actually have an opportunity to show my creativity, given that I have any creativity…well I’m miserable too! I wasn’t doing anything that may have been counted as creative…but yesterday I shot something and edited it too. It’s kinda music video of the Cranberries song Zombie…suitable for my current situation. Maybe I’m getting touched by creativity again…may be that’s why I’ve started to write too! Well then I may start to write my script too! Its rainin’ ideas and they are thrashing me out!

This rain has thrashed the city too. It has thrashed the roads, the public transport systems, the health, and most importantly the spirit…I mean c’mon just by a week’s rain you fear to come to standstill, then why you term this geographical area as a city. But still people are becoming romantic….the girl kissed his boyfriend or not I couldn’t see… (Not because I’m not a voyeur, but because they went away from the visual reach my window offers!)

The Masks- PART I

2009-06-06T12:13:00.000-07:00

The Masks

He’s cursed and abandoned by his family; pressurized, almost ditched by his girlfriend. Why? ‘Coz he’s lazy, doesn’t have any ambitions, any dreams, they say…at least not as the dreams are supposed to be.

The sound of airplane and traffic is merged in the vast, a mechanised crowd. Everyone is chasing something, trying to breathe as hard as they can, and running fast. The crowd has workers, beggars, clerks, and hair-gelled young people with their ties on, in formal decent clothes. They are going for interviews. A sound of canned laughter follows them, and the source of the laugh is a TV set. Some sitcom is running on the TV.

Well, here enters our ‘he’. He is sitting in front of the TV with a straight face. His father yells, “You are wasting their time too”, his father is a typical old man like a typical old men are, and he is bald, has specs, has a deformed body and is big and loud-mouth. “Our neighbours were asking me ‘your son must have plans for the future, unless our son, he just found a normal job in a bank’, yeah…he has plans”, his father spanks him on head, “he has plans to sit and eat for the whole of his life on my money” well, that’s enough ‘coz old people won’t stop talking…

He is sleeping inside his room but his father just refuses to shut his mouth. He gets irritated; he gets up wears a shirt over his t-shirt, and goes out.

He is sitting with his girlfriend. But the girlfriend is yanking too…almost the same words…but she adds a threat to ditch him if he doesn’t do anything…he turns and says. But I’m doing something…” but the girl again starts off. This time she is talking numbers to prove that the situation of the country’s economy will get bad even further, so this is the right time to get a secured job. She has contacts and can fix-up an appointment or something. He stands up, and starts walking away. “Are you listening? Should I fix the appointment tomorrow? Dress-up nicely…” she also just refuses to shut up.

Again the TV is on, the blue white light is lighting up his face. The canned laughter again looks odd on his straight face. Well, someone is talking continuously…again!

In the morning he is walking on the road looking at the roadside shops. He stops at a bakery; creamy pastries are kept in the showcase. He is mind eating them, when a servant of the shops asks, almost yells, “What do you want?”, he looks at the servant angrily, but the anger and irritation on servant’s face is more, so he decides to retreat. The crowd is moving around him as fast as it can pushing him, squeezing him…they are going for interviews, and he?

His girlfriend yells in his ears, “move fast the appointment is at 12”

He stops in front of another shop, his girlfriend has been merged and moved in the crowd…he is looking astonishingly at the glass window…he tries to touch the items inside through the glass….he decides to go in. but he stops, checks his pockets, he has few coins in it, he grabs those coins tightly in the fist and moves inside. As he pushes the door of the shop the wind chime chimes.

He enters the shop and now more astonished than ever he looks around.

The shop has bright violet coloured wallpapers, with very Indian and oriental designs. It has dark mahogany settee, matching counter; it has some glass wall hangings that are reflecting colourful light. But these all things are not for sale, the product on sale are hanging on every wall available…they are Masks…

Many masks, of various sizes, shapes, colours; are showing different expression impressing various emotions. For example one is of warrior, a furious warrior; who is determined to take over the world. Other is of a very beautiful and innocent girl, but some secrets are hidden behind her hollow eyes. There are animals which are generally related to human and human traits. Like dog, donkey, wolf.

He is something more than astonished and lost, when he sees the only other real human face in that shop, it’s the shopkeeper, but obvious, as he is standing behind the counter. “What are you watching at?” the man behind the counter shrieks.

The man looks like is in his mid 70’s, he has hair on the sides and he is covering his top with a cap. He is thin, and his hands are like wood. He is wearing thin glasses. But his clothes are kinda colourful.

“its amazing!”, our boy says, “I haven’t seen anything like this before. Do you own this?” “its for sale and not for collection. What do you want?”, the old man is still suspicious. Our man says, “I liked this faces” The old man looks at our man from top to toe, he gets up from his chair to have a even closer look of him. He comes very close adjusting his glasses, “which mask would you like to try?” the old man asks, giving a specific stress on the word ‘masks’. Our man again looks around, “no, I would just like to see them. If I wear them than how can I see the masks, I think this masks faces can change everything, inside out!” Expressions on that old man’s face change slightly as he walks back to his chair followed by our man.

अर्धवट कविता...करीन पुरी कधीतरी!

2009-02-20T15:44:00.000-08:00

मी नव्हतो आधी कोणी पण
मला व्हायच नव्हत कोणी ही
पण मला ओळख मिळालीच नाही.
ह्या सगळ्या अनोळखी जगात
माझा चेहरा पुसालच जात नाही
आणि मग तू, मी आणि आम्ही
पण मी खरच त्यातला नाही.
झेंडे, फुले आणि शस्त्र
मी होऊच शकत नाही विवस्त्र
तू कोण, कोठून, कोणाचा
पहिल नाव, शेवटचा नाव संगितल्याशिवाय सुटकच नाय

Colour me Blood

2009-02-19T16:28:00.000-08:00

Today was a happy day in Bhausaheb's office. His supporters were gathered around a colourful tent built only for this day since the early morning. The courtyard is decorated by rangoli, a supposed to be devotional music were playing with the breaks for popular bollywood item numbers. Outside the tent a huge flex was erected wishing 'Bhau' many wishes, and with hell lot of pictures of their supporters. A small temporary cabin was packed with flowers and gifts, everything was trying to be organised, in its own disorganised manner. Yes it was Birthday of Bhausaheb or 'Bhau' as he is lovingly called.

Contradicting to the festive mood of the office two quite ambulances with four doctors were standing on the circumference of the crowed. Few supporters brought a huge weigh scale from a scrap yard, and they started decorating it with flowers. Another strange thing. These two strange things will be explained by a banner being put under 'Bhau's flex-It said: Blood donation camp and 'rakta-tula' on the occasion of Bhau's birthday.

These things still are quite ordinary or expectedly weird for anybody who doesn't know what happened to this town 6 days back...

What happened here was a remote reaction to something that didn’t happen to another town few thousand of kilometers away. On the last Monday suddenly a mob inspired by a will to change...at least modify the world according to their leaders thoughts attack an area of the town. Their leader wanted a monument of his leader to be erected at a disputed land. But law prevented him from doing so and arrested him. The mob attacked the colony of the people who were not personally but religiously different than their leader's leader...and incidentally the Police commissioner who gave the order of his arrest was also of their community. The violence lasted for two days...

But today the leader was out on a bail...and incidentally it was Bhau's birthday too. Bhau, though a supporter of that arrested-and-released leader, was not a bad man heart, at least that what he wanted to prove. So he arranged this 'rakta-tula'. He will donate the blood equal to his weight to the city hospital to treat the people who got injured in last week's violence.

Rakt-tula is inspired by suvarna-tula. A custom in Indian fairy (?) tales. Where a king used to weigh him by gold coins and ornament on his birthday or any auspicious day and then he used to donate those amount as a charity.

Here Bhau will weigh him by blood bottles, and frozen blood packets, and this he will donate that blood to the hospital. Well well...

Bhau arrived with his convoy. Everybody jumped to open and hold the door of the SUV for Bhau. After few speakers talked about Bhau and his achievements, his majesty Bhau also talked about the importance of blood donation and the necessity to erect the monument. After people ate the breakfast and sweets, the function which everybody was excited about started-The only rakt-tula or Rudheer-tula as Bhau called it.

Bhau sat in one pan of the weigh scale. He was wearing white kurta and white pants, a gold chain in neck and a golden watch. The supporters waiting for the function to start was reflecting in his black Ray Ban. Being a corporator is no easy job. You can't give time for your body, your food and drinks. After being the corporator Bhau also suffered from this ignorance-o-health mania. You can't really call him fat, but yes fats increased his girth quite a lot after being Corporator. He couldn't get time even for exercise. That was showing clearly when he tried to sit down in the pan. Well his supporters supported him.

Oh the doctor...yes the doctors were called...lazy bums only standing near the ambulance all this while. After few flashbulbs burnt and the official inauguration of the function, the function started.

The first packet of blood was ceremonially thrown in the other pan by Bhau’s wife Kokilabai. Then Bhau’s brother had his turn. After few others dignitaries, the donation was going to open for public. Everybody was talking about Bhau and his…well weight of course. Dada said, “you were unnecessary worrying about you weight…it is helping for a good cause now…hahaha” “Yes”, supported Nana “These doctors are getting helped because you didn’t listen to them about the weight-loss program” Everybody was bursting in to laughter and started teasing doctors. Everybody wanted to show they are happy with the responsibility…and they also want to please their leader.

Nana was putting a bottle of blood in the pan. The pan was already heaped; the bottle slipped of the heap and landed on the floor. Splash! Nana’s chappal and lower part of his white pants got soaked in red. Boom! Everybody suddenly got so quite after the noise. Nobody moved, said or ordered anything. The sweeper came to his senses first; he ran and grabbed a mop to clean the floor. Ohh suddenly everybody started giving orders to our fast thinker…wash this, wipe that. Nana looked at his trousers, “Doctor, will this cause me any disease…say AIDS?” and he loves his jokes, he thought this is hilarious and started laughing hysterically.

For a moment everybody though he’s gone mad…really got contracted by some weird disease. But no he gasped, breathed and again started laughing in his trademark tone.

Everybody also, meanwhile, started to get fascinated by the red floor. It was gripping visual. Blood clots were slowly getting diluted in the soap water. The colourful film of soap was slowly turning red. Fat women slipped off the soapy floor and bumped on the container of blood bottles. And again another blood bottle broke. The fat lady was sitting in a pool of blood, her hand was red. She tried to wipe her sweat and her face also got blood stained. She was looking horrible…a psycho-serial killer.

Yes and she started the series of murder, murder of the bottles. Now not only Nana but the whole crowd has gone crazy, everybody laughing hysterically on the lady’s red face. Hell, she was embarrassed. Pappu, 6 year son of Bhau, sneaked and reached the container. He took out a packet of blood and ripped it open, and started showering it on his playmates. He was Bhau’s son; after all, nobody can stop him.

Now everybody wanted to be a part of The Red Army. Everybody, almost, started playing with bottles, either explicitly or secretly. Somebody yelled, “Holi hai!!!”

Sure Bhau’s birthday was memorable. He is the leader. He got support. The monument has to erect there now

A LIGHT ON THE THIRTEENTH FLOOR

2009-01-30T08:10:00.000-08:00

A light on the 13th floor
Somebody’s having a last fuck
Somebody’s getting ready to try luck
In the crowed to get squeezed & drenched
Alone is the word and multilayered clothes are the new trend
Getting dressed up and a cheek on a peck
They say it makes you successful, the heck

Footpaths are for riding
And pink sandals for dust biting
Find a patch on spit….and Street
Pig on the track…you shit

4:52 deserted first class when going up
And in downwards, a huge turn-up

We need and angel, or may be a goddess
To waive at you from the 13th terrace
Wings are broken or not grown up yet
Doesn’t matter if you are a beautiful saint

Can see it, right into it, through
When you fly up, up, up and threw
Gaze, glance or puke
Analyze that ‘coz you gotta put right bait on your hook

The light on the 13th floor goes off
Again to go on and off and on and off
The angel has flown away
To the 14th floor, to lay
She is the mother surrogate
Bitch, how do you wanna copulate?

Part 2...the sinner returns!

2009-01-14T13:47:00.000-08:00

Part 2

planning to write about it for quite long time now...to be precise when slumdog millionaire got its nominations for Golden Globes (or GG as we affectionately call it- Danny Boyle uvaaach!)

Thats the time the Globe came to know about A.R Rahman....thats the time everybody wanted to listen to the slumdog track...and want to watch what a feerang has done to Mumbai and India...

I wanted to be a part of that yet to come mass-frenzy! Wanted to see Slumdog Millionaire...actually I came to know about SDM in a blog by Anurag Kashyap.

so...as the story unfolds we come to know that there is more to it than just rag to riches storyline-said SRK while presenting SDM at the Golden Globes (BTW he was called 'king of bollywood' there...what a moment!)

in my office ( I work for a bollywood music TV chanel) some sites (sexually explicit/adult/hobbies/time waste/criminal nature/kids time.....) are banned...and obviously Torrent sited were also banned under the act downloads....but...

here the story actually starts...

khhhrrrrrwwsssppppppppp

TIME A: few days ahead in the future- a library attendent in our office was asking me, “do u have 'chillamda milleni'?” my initial reaction was blank...

khkhhhhhhhhhhrspsspppppzzz

TIME B: few days back in the future!

one of my friend told me gave me sermon about using proxy server!
And whoa! A new age has started in my life....DOWNLOADS.....TORRENTS....

wwwwzzzxxxrrrrpppppppppp

NOW

so one night I was working late....hardly anybody was using their computer...coz very few people were working at that hour
so the speed of internet was become quite fast...and I downloaded the torrent for SDM...and put it on download...
next day I told proudely about my kartood to my colleague (she always used to ask me to download some weird mushy movies for her) and she was like WOW, why ddnt she think of it before...she asked for the movie and I gave it...!

dude I had made three mistakes of my life...in a span of just a few hours....i downloaded the movi..saw it and distributed the pirated copy!
Well my colleague was advance to me about bragging about her movie collection and soon everybody was craving for the slumdog...

zzrspppppppppppp

12 th Jan '09
A.R. Rahman was climbing up the stage to receive the Golden Globe for 'all the brilliant indians'

kkhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrkzzzp

TIME A (again):
I was blank..'chillamda....chillam...weed....bengali weed...chilumda... “whats that?”, I asked...he said, “the film everybody is watching...you have it right? Somebody has deleted all its copies from the LAN” (wasn't me, but I thanked that ITwalah...who has by the way blocke all the sites) I saw a mail in my inbox warning us all not to save any movies on the LAN!

“yeah I have it...it originated from me...heck!”...he just understood the part 'I have it' and ran to get a blank DVD...

vrrrrrrrrrraasssssssssssppppp

NOW

what went wrong? Before the Golden Globe literally everybody in my office and the office adjacent to us has seen the SDM....so the support for A.R. Rahman was bigger than it could have been had I chose not to download the movie...or had kept it to myself... but really everybody was rooting for Rehman...and everybody was happy...we are watching the Golden Globes footage that has came to our library again and again...

kkkkkkhhhhhhrrrppppppppp

TIME C: few days back on the timeline...after TIME B...just before TIME A

a promo for 'Slumdog Crorepati' arrived in our library- the hindi version of SDM...again it tortured me....what I have done...it is actually releasin in India...when I downloaded it, then I ddnt see any chance, movement of SDM releasing here...so I downloaded it.
The rest of my day went in misery

zzzzzzzzzzzzrrrrrrrrrkhpppp

NOW

where exactly piracy is wrong? Where exactly is the thin line between the regular outine and THE SIN?
Few people from my office are now going to watch SDM (hindi me) in theatres...many people came to know about SDM because of it, otherwise they would have ignored like some...some Mira Nair film!

I mean I want to make movis someday...big movies..
what if I have released my movie....and returning to my home town after the premier and see my movie on my journey back, in the video coach bus! I mean. Would I be elated that the movie is reaching to the wider audience...or will I be upset, coz my producer will not get enough returns and thus blurs my chance of a next movie? I dont know...as an ameture film maker...i want my film to reach to the wider audience...

khrsssssssaaaaaaaapppppppppppppppppp

THANK YOU

Slumdog million sinner

2009-01-12T04:36:00.000-08:00

PART 1(!)

at last(?)
we indian came on the Globes...the golden globes...short, brown, confident, modest A.R. Rehman walked up the stage to accept the Golden Globe for his music score in Danny Boyle's 'Slumdog Millionaire'...the music was indeed (offcourse) very good. (at the same time he is giving us 'Yuvvraaj' and 'Ghajini' :P)

THEN WHAT, WHERE IS THE SIN? WHO'S THE SINNER?
Well the sin is been performed by me...i'm the sinner...
...contd.

At the strike

2008-04-24T04:47:00.000-07:00

At the strike
When you reach habitually on time to office, you find a lot less people than usual. The reason is the strike of the autorikshaws; you come to know when the first employee hit by the strike enters.
Everyone arrives, either with lot of sweat travelling by bus or train, and the rest of the lot travelled by taxis come with empty pockets. And the sharing of experiences begins; everyone tries to tell that he has the worst tale to tell.
But why? I mean why the autorikshaws union called on this strike….
You search on the net, as it is more near to you, and you can’t participate in the live talk because you have bike and have, in fact, enjoyed the comparatively empty streets. So, the net says, somewhere in America one South American artist with a weird name starved a dog to death, and presented the act as installation art in an art gallery. Thousands of blogs condemned this act, and millions of people (you wonder how people get time to write on Salman’s various hairstyles in his career) have expressed themselves virtually.
To add up spice to the story (I guess) another art gallery invited that artist (with the weird name) to repeat this act. A virtual petition has been released where you can sign virtually to express your disapproval towards the act.
On the net you also find out the explanation of that artist on his act. He says on another blog that it is to tell people how stray dogs die in the third world country, but you have only realized the pain when I have shown you the death and desperation to live in the art’s context. (By the way he has kept some food just outside the reach of the dog, and has written on the walls of the art gallery ‘you are what you eat’)
So, you get pretty much wrapped up in the virtual wired world. But you don’t like the comparatively offensive expression portrayed in the virtual world about the third world. You feel like the starved dog on display and Uncle Sam is broadcasting you all over the world in an exclusive 24-7 live channel. (India TV doesn’t cover that, as it is inside the dog)
Meantime you realized that (the AC is freezing you out!) no you realize that (the road was less crowded), no you realize that (the new girl in your office is wearing dark blue bra, and you can make out it because she is also wet in sweat!), well yeah you realize that (you don’t get to see the quality of rope by which the dog has been tied up in your country), well you come to realize that the autorikshaws are on strike today (but that you know already!) well, the strike is because they don’t want the electronic meters to be installed in their vehicles (the electronics meter could’ve given the printed bill including the fare, the distance travelled, permit number and registration number of the autorikshaw…cool ha!) Moreover they want public servant status and (yet another) reservation in houses. The take of the autorikshaw union on the opposition for the electronic meter is that-they would as prone to tampering and dust and moisture as the existing mechanical ones.
Suddenly you see that girl with the blue bra loses her consciousness, the reason: she waited for the public transport vehicle for more than hour in scorching sun…The strike is a success…may you say!?
The dog had died because of the hunger, so the artist should’ve been more successful by this logic...huh!?
Have you started to feel that you should put this article on your blog?
(By the way the autorikshaw union couldn’t hold for even one day…on the other day the autorikshaws and thus the traffic jam was on!)

start blogging

2008-04-22T22:00:00.000-07:00

watchout this place..