White Noise or Silent Thoughts.....

The Bohemian Girl!

2011-12-02T05:50:00.000-08:00

Q: Who is She?
A: The Bohemian Girl

Q: What does she do?
A: No idea. But she could make a living by playing badminton.

Q: Badminton?
A: Yes, badminton! She moves around with the grace of a ballet dancer, she picks and smashes. She drops and she smiles.

Q: Describe her?
A: She is tall, fair and perfectly accented. She is the Bohemian Girl.

Q: Where did you meet her?
A: I met her at luck’s place.

Q: Luck’s place?
A: It is a place where I go to indulge in me, but I got indulged in her style.

Q: She must be really fascinating?
A: Really? I wouldn’t know. Perhaps, I would never catch her glimpse again. She was a bright hope, a breath of fresh air. With each of her moves, she oozed grace and poise. She swore once, and it did not take her long to get back to her charismatic reigns.

Q: Never again? You must talk to her.
A: I met her at luck’s place. As luck would have it, variances never add up to a total.

Q: Variances? Total?
A: She was the variance in the human mass of badminton populace. No air, no self possessiveness. A sip of water, a gentle look at the racquet and a genuine smile! Do you get the drift? She did not belong to this place.

Q: Did you exchange numbers?
A: No.

Q: Dude, she seems fascinating. You should meet her. Do something.
A: Didn’t I tell you she was the Bohemian Girl? Luck’s place!

Q: Any more thoughts?
A: A perfect smile. A perfect chin. A perfect accent. The poise. The Bohemian girl.

Loss of Words

2011-07-18T07:10:00.000-07:00

Presentation One: Fumbled. Mumbled.
Presentation Two: Blank.

Outcome: Doubts. Self Examination. Stage Fear.

X

2010-09-24T05:27:00.000-07:00

The path that lies behind me and the path that lies in front of me do not meet where I stand right now. Crossroads?

C&D

2010-07-01T08:02:00.000-07:00

It took me a minute to decide. It took another such minute to rename it as a mistake. The ground rules changed! Choice and decisions are good as long as the ground rules last.

Choices and Decisions-Law of diminishing returns?

In hindsight all our decisions fall into either of these categories -good or bad. But at the heat of the moment was that not the only reasonable, and absolutely crucial thing to do?

My fight for justice with TIME? Acceptance?

Scattered or Missing Pieces?

2010-06-11T22:19:00.000-07:00

Predecessor.

Piece One:
A big happy jovial active group. The humour never staled even though the subjects were constant.
Status Update:
Lost
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Piece Two:
Perfect football pitch, lazy badminton courts, endless discussions before matches.
Status Update:
Extinct
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Piece Three:
Online chatting, Mindless questioning/bugging.
Status Update:
Not Applicable
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Piece Four:
Phone calls, sporadic flirting.
Status Update:
Non Existent
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Piece Five:
Poking Nose.
Status Update:
Cold
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Piece Six:
Jumping at everything plausible.
Status Update:
Bungee Jumping in past
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Piece Seven:
Sleeping and sporadic work
Status Update:
Sleeping
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Current.

Piece Eight:
Fixing the repairable, spawning new ones for the obsolete in a black screen for a black box.
Status Update:
Monday Blues
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Piece Nine:
Small football pitch sans grass, bigger imagination- a lesser player.
Status Update:
Bypassing
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Piece Ten:
Chennai
Status Update:
Madras
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Successor.

Every You for Every Me?

2010-04-24T23:30:00.000-07:00

Dear V,

Isn’t it hard to pen down everything that happened and everything that promised to happen but didn’t? There is no easy way out, so I will just give it a shot. It wasn’t an accident-the way we met. I was left wondering about your guile and naivety, over the coffee. It wasn’t long enough when I was only wondering about the infinite you in a pretty way. Well, I wasn’t looking for it, nor did I plan it to unfold in the way it did. Ermmm.. It did happen, nevertheless. One thing led to another, and I could only do a precious little without you. I fumbled in football pitch, over you. The tattoo, the over-the-sleep talk, the lingering smile, the whispering messages- my crazy run had begun! That’s the good part.

The bad news is, it didn’t actually materialise. Meanwhile, we lost both the basis of good times- the person and the emotions. I am sure; it was not worth the smile and faith you entrusted on me. As I run my eyes over the picture, the other thoughts come galloping. How life shapes up differently and totally opposite to what first sight promises to be. As I sit down with real life tales, gives me an unhealthy feeling-the highly disturbing kind. That frightens the daylight out of me. But, I get this feeling that we will get lost in the haze of this over-populated world. In this human mass of expectations, we let our moment fly by un-noticed. I don’t know what’s going with me. But when you turn that face to me, I know something’s wrong with the world. I can’t tell you, where we land from here. But can you lend me every you for every me? The morning smile by the bed, the night ruffles? Just another chance? Call me!

Yours Unfaithfully
B

Fit in the picture?

2010-03-04T07:34:00.000-08:00

Cigarette buds. Smelly socks. Glass bottles. Ripped corks. White washed surroundings. He was filled by scattered nothingness around. He stared at the garrulous fan shrieking an ‘i-no-longer-care’ tone. The ceiling was hypnotizing him as he awaited his nothingness to be galloped by something-‘ness’. He wondered about fitting in the place, fitting into the whole picture as a small nut bolt. He reserved his apprehensions. He saw flaws all around. The more he peered into the walls, the more he saw into the patterns and their ways. They weaved into the white overlay smoothly for a distant onlooker. everything is so perfect from far-off he murmured as his heavy eyelids dropped in a lumber.

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Just once, just once, I'd like to keep the perfect sleep. You know the one I'm taking about. You fall asleep on a train, or someone's couch, or in a hospital, and it's perfect. The ecstasy of the unlikely. And then some bastard wakes you up and you can't get it back, no matter how hard you try. You never knew it was perfect until you lost it. And all you have left is that sick burning desire to get it back. The perfect sleep.

Wave the WAVE?

2010-02-01T19:18:00.000-08:00

He was strolling in his happy tunes of his life with his friends and non-friends alike. The dark forces were designing evils somewhere else,he believed so.Like a Voldemort whisper they assembled stealthily to conspire and it gushed in with all its might in a single breath's time. He was so carelessly engulfed in life, he failed to recognise the timorous sounds.He was so rapt in innocent conscience, so oblivious to the lurking possibility that he turned a blind eye and let his guard down. He saw the dark evil wave webbing around him when it was all too near to wash him off and wither his spirits.

Whispering conspiracies.
Guile.Might.Dark Vagaries.
Stung him numb and cold
Preoccupied he Stayed away,from the bold.

The force was too strong to be resisted. He was clueless. Surprisingly enough, the panic button set off in alarming note. Rather he was glaring at the distant horizon, with a curious note, where other disturbing thoughts gave rise to another wave. Perhaps this wave held greater say and disturbance on him. The telling effect of this momentous downfall camouflaged in the eerie backdrop of sea meeting the sky. It seemed the near impossible was on him. He kept pondering about the upcoming wave. Meanwhile each receding wave, came in with the gross reminders of the dark possibilities of the upcoming wave. Each one of them left the scars large enough to last a lifetime of a memory.

Receeding Hopes

Succumb? Stand? Resist? Float?
He knew not, do What?
Disturbed he let in all,
Chanced footholds not so small.

He was marveling at the resonance while dreading the worst nightmare. It struck him when he was getting sure to stand by himself. It broke him by spine. By now he had learnt that, even daring the waves doesn't drown them. They are swim-able and they are cross-able. All that it would take is a deep breath and a few heart pangs. He had to re-learn the life. His heart has to let in a few more pangs. Losing her in the wave was not his destiny. But a receding wave is fated to take away all it can. He lost to this simple fate. The fate of letting go with the promise of vibrant shore-coming, his hope to dare the horizon again.

The morning innocent smile of hers....

2009-08-31T00:40:00.000-07:00

She rubs her eyes and picks the phone with pleasing yawn,
The blabber from the night resumes to go on and awn,
She was soothing than the morning, he realised,
For all his craving, will he be blessed?

The morning innocent smile of hers....

Time pass by so smoothly with her by his side,
When he talks with her, he knows his fortitude,
He dreams to know everything he could be,
But without her he doesnt dare to see it wide!

The morning innocent smile of hers....

Theres a lot many things he would want to share,
Can she hear the words he compares?
He let everything sink, I know for sure,
The day is ethreal for her morning smile pure?

The morning innocent smile of hers....

She wakes up with breeze by her hair curls,
He feels the breath of belonging in the air furls,
Clutch onto him, he wants to see it through
For he sees you in and out all through :)

The morning innocent smile of hers....

P.S. Posting after a very long time :) Guess I am pardoned for the sin :D This one is inspired from the daily antics of someone :) The breath, the smile and the synchrony follows and revolves all in all behind that morning smile of hers!!!

Eat up!

2009-07-26T05:32:00.000-07:00

There is something about food you never grow tired of. Even the dreams of mouth watering food comes with innate ease as if it were programmed to portray a powerless picture yielding to an irresitible force. As much as I am taught of speaking up at right occasions(speak up), I wonder eating up at right occasions might rekindle the spark to do everything else. My previous ramblings on food went about differentiating my moods based on my food. But does the litmus test lie in enjoying the meal silently or overtly proclaiming the praises?

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The other day I found myself buckled up to find my frame fit into a filled rickety auto in tryst of food! The hotel we opted for was closed till September 1, but as the usual virus we decided to eat up another hotel :) Such was the intensity of yearning! So thither we flocked into the same auto to find another place to dig into. But it did start with a flash, Babu- being the radio without the stop/start button- commented on the Chicken Rolls irrevocably. He manages that tone by default case(Born to talk, made to code and laughed at :P) His expression excaliming "Saste Log" calls for its own visual imagination(if you haven't seen it). The roll was good before Babu reinstated the comparisions about i-dont-think-i-heard-the-place places. To top it he was having the better of the driver in the front seat, while we four tried fitting in our legs, hands and all that came in between in the back seat :(

Chinese it was! The place was chosen to be a chinese restaurant. Though Babu commented over the ambience of many places before getting down at Tao, he must have fallen in love with the structure and ambience of Tao. His interest and talk point by now had diverted to Chinese culture and the usage of Chopsticks. The related stories engulfed his depression and angst of not being able to use chopsticks. As if we were under the impression that he was fed Cerelac from Chopsticks. But as usual he was put down :)

The order placed, the talk of Babu's town centred around the receptionist. The Chinki next door for Babu! I dont recollect if he had specified about seeing some better looking Chinkis. I am sure I must have overlooked, overheard rather(You know where I was looking :) )! Babu with his words makes the Mark Twain of modern day with a twist. He makes everything silly,poshed up. The twist comes in where he makes silly of himself in all his endeavours.

(Assignment: All of you who are intoxicated by Babu's antics and want to take a sneak peek, just negate the posted picture using photoshop. You have to do it to believe it. So get the hands on experience :P)(Damn.. The blogspot wouldnt even allow to upload a negated Babu's picture! Conclusion: A still picture(without the action wala Babu) is impossible! Bhagwaan ne bhi nahi dekha hoga!)

The Babu antics will only be published on demand!

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All this while food and its smell lingered in me. I could differentiate the smell of fried rice, the chopsueys, and the chowmeins which were being gobbled by in some corner of the room. I had an inkling that the food had to be good, its smell was already envigorating. The past few days had been taxing both physically and mentally. I had came to a point of being blinded by everything else. The feeling of loosing everything wasn't fading away. It lingered like a termite's mark long after I had defeated it. All I hoped was a symbolic victory from the its clutches. Good food came to rescue, as if always does! All in all the eat-up excercise made me come back to me. I wonder what would I do without good food? I remember this with sense of fulfilment four days after the incident- such is its impact!

State Of Existence!

2009-06-26T04:57:00.000-07:00

Interviewer: How are you feeling right now?
Me: Ever heard of the story of a bird in a golden cage? I think it pretty much sums it up precisely.

Interviewer: A Golden Cage?
Me: On after thoughts I gather, theres nothing golden about it. Its a mirage in the offing.

Interviewer: We are still at sand dunes, confused as ever!
Me: I believe my frustration, desperation speaks for itself.

Interviewer: Ah, you lamenting about the new place? The new novel existence?
Me: Lamenting? Please replace it with condemning. Anything new coming at the price of time isnt sufficient, I believe.

Interviewer: So what is golden about it? Or rather the Mirage?
Me: A swimming pool, Wooden badminton courts, Single room, Girls, add to it AC and TV at room!

Interviewer: That sounds so exciting and interesting!
Me: I said, I cant help feeling like I was bought down by these apparent visuals!

Interviewer: Is it all shiny and painful?
Me: Having the coffee looking up to stars from seventh floor at 12 in the night is perhaps the only silver lining.

Interviewer: Wow, that sounds so exciting.
Me: But excitement dies down with every starless night. I am reminded of the missed moments. The no-network, the complete blocked in feeling is growing on me.

Interviewer:At least the food would be good?
Me: Yeah right! To start with every food court closes by 10 pm. Then I have zeroes down to a 3 dishes out of 5 food courts! You all have imagination to visualize the obviousness of reality.

Interviwer: We fervewntly hope, rather assume you maintained the sports :)
Me: Hmmm... If waiting in queue to get a single game of badminton is what you refer to "high-standards" of sports I have acheived. Football is played with hands. I cease to be the person commenting on active sports from now on.

Interviewer: So its must be getting onto you?
Me: Why think and die thrice before sleeping, when you have to wake up tomorrow to repeat it all over again?

Interviewer: Any news to all of us?
Me: Please do not let the network fall on its own. I yearn for all of you- the mails, the chats, the everything. All I have now is no mail access and lot of desperation! Period. Do drop in mails :) Everyday.. ahhh... Someday.. Atleast One day! I might only reach you at prabhu_das@daiict.ac.in

P.S. Consider this as the heights of desperation and frustration :) Yeah, learning about ethical ettiquettes is perfectly the most perfect thing to hear everyday! Day in day out!
And I have to go out of the way to post posts in blogspot. The only relief is I can acess blogspot. But why not the blogger?

The Died Him

2009-05-24T22:09:00.000-07:00

The recollection of reactions, which culminated in boarding the running train, brought a wry smile. He was left behind at the platform long after the train was gone, even if only in spirits. At least he wanted to be. He adjusted his lens and cleared his vision. He peered through the window as another train passed his thoughts in a flash. The images moved backwards, as he saw, with the pace only matched by the speed of conflicting thoughts in his brain. He was stationary and everything else moved back. Everything else! The train moved on. He moved on. Life moved on? All that was left was a series of moving images. All so beautiful and filled with fragrance and none he could touch, none he could reach out for. None would freeze! They kept moving, and he kept alone. It was an amazing coincidence. At least, he tried to wriggle himself free from this wrong revelation. He wanted to hold it all so tight to himself. But it was not to be. It had to move on.

But then many of his self defined parameters had failed to quantify happiness the true meaning of bliss. His playlist didn’t give him the lift. Music also failed the litmus test. But then he realized the transition hasn’t been all that sudden. He hadn’t laced his football cleats for days. He hadn’t blogged for ages. He hadn’t found movies to suit his taste. The journey was inevitably coming to the climax. He wasn’t prepared for it. It was not sudden. The part of dying him died gradually. Maybe, it will rise from the ashes; the phoenix might infuse and re-find itself.

Even if he re-gathers the situation, fighting with the circumstances, he is sure not to find the same passion. It would be a new team, a new world. Maybe, just maybe he is jumping to conclusions all too soon? Like a divine intrusion, he came out of this thoughts-land. The wheels were screeching to a halt. The siren paraded the senses of hearing. The images were no longer moving backward with the same agonizing speed. He believed they weren’t far from his reach, this time. Lo and Behold! He could reach out to the images, and feel the strong reality of it. The train stopped! The life stopped! Just another parking in life? He would move back to the destination. He moved his hair back. He adjusted his spectacles, cleaning the dirt that had been blocking the vision. A deep breath and the life in his hands brought the gleam in his eyes back! He leapt in joy of life!

The walk to remember!

2009-05-14T04:42:00.000-07:00

He proposed for a walk, she agreed. They had been "whiney-friends" who engage in leg pulling as and when circumstance presented itself. The kind of fresh effervescence to it-bubbly and nascent freshness!Perhaps he was filled with nostalgia, perhaps they were not to meet ever again! He swarmed in mushy thoughts.She was the perfect silhouette of composure. Maybe it would be like she said- "Friendships masks and bends time"! The hug made him feel guilty for they could have been more friends.

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The ants of the same anthill! The story shall be etched forever in a distant chapter. It all started the fateful day when most of them were forced to dance to the tune of a birthday. It was the beginning. Like every great story, it had a middle
and an end-the middle was fascinating. The line of ants flocking together in a single filed line to the outings. They were not alike not in any sense of word!They varied in sizes to moods and to tastes! But they struck to the filed line. The ant hill was the happening place at nights with its sessions of glorious uncertainties capable of infinite monotones collectively. It was almost ironic that the magic lingered for so long!

Now they part. Different lines, different choices! It wouldn't be the same long line any more! No more waits, no more group sms! The hugs were different this time. He knew everything couldn't be set down correctly with this hug. The gamut of emotions the imagery of togetherness flashed in an instant! The misunderstandings seemed so trivial in front of the bonding and attachment, he felt like letting go of everything else! It had to be. Everyone made him believe so. Not everyone can be wrong- It had to be!

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He stares at the collage of pictures and he realizes what a "happy place" in reality would be-the place and the people he would like to be with. He blinked his eyes to the happy place where he was surrounded by people he wished to be. It was a happy zone. It is a happy zone. He bids his time and awaits his time, when he parts away from the ant hill. The abode where living alone was both sinful, sundry and difficult!The hug of life? A walk....err.. The walk to remember?

"THE" defeat in "A" win- A 55F

2009-03-29T22:32:00.000-07:00

White washed ceiling or a colorful life canvas? He stared at the various hues of painted life. Knitting the final act together- positivity of hopes? Ballerina’s shift as ball kissed legs, pirouettes and tackles-Game vision delivered.

The loss in a win? The farewell (last) football match of my team!

Play together at Convocation again.
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A literary work will be considered 55 Fiction if it has:

* Fifty-five words or less (A non-negotiable rule)
* A setting,
* One or more characters,
* Some conflict, and
* A resolution. (Not limited to moral of the story)

Rabbit Hole...Deep and Under!

2009-03-13T02:06:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the Rabbit Hole of expectations! Hidden recess, unknown turns, unseen grounds- Doesn’t the Rabbit Hole just go deep in? The tunnel of expectations is almost similar- dicey, inspirational and tiring. Just tumble down!
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He tumbled down the tunnel- deep and deeper! The vision, the light guiding him! He persisted. He took up the challenge of living up to expectations. He made his way through the hidden recess of the tunnel- gauging the ground, smelling the dangers. He inched his way through. He slogged. He made seconds converge to minutes and minutes to hours and hours to days! Though the light was far off, he succeeded in securing a milestone. Or at least he flattered himself to believe so. That’s the only solace he bargained, however short-lived it might have been. It was heart breaking-all the sweat didn’t make for a drink, let alone a satisfying/quenching drink. What does he do now? Despair-However lame the word may sound, it has a leveling effect! Or should he vent out his anger in fists? In any case he is devastated by the end of it.
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He is happy. He is engaged in the things he likes most. A smile lingers on his face and he dances to the tune of it. He has unfinished work to wrap up but he is too engulfed in his world to even think of it. He completes the work without interest. He made the things stick and signed it off in its own unique style. He bargains adulation for the vision and expertise. He is left wondering about the virtue of hard work. He is happy in his world even to understand the importance and value of the recognition. He strives out nonchalantly!
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Is it really impossible to expect a favourable outcome? Or is it that the Rabbit Hole goes deep down under- beyond understanding? Or is he just digging at the wrong end of the Rabbit hole?

Dance,with me?

2009-02-21T22:58:00.000-08:00

Summer winds unsettling hair, speaking to the ear,
Wandering clouds, sky never getting clear.
Today it lies still, speaking no words of pretence,
In the lull of night, reflecting silence.

Gleaming in the summer sands, the glass of memory,
Brittle. Volatile. Recounting a nameless story.
Playing with yesterday when today was flying by,
Smell of her hair, memories circled near by.

I cannot see what would come, but what had gone.
Lost in translation the dreams; life of love tone.
Should I take a step back? To find you once again?
Would you hold hand once more? Would you dance with me again?

Lost Cause??

2009-02-03T00:06:00.000-08:00

It had started a long back- just the train journey back home caught the raw straw. The train of thoughts (pun intended) left him wondering all over it again.
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He was jubilant for he was home bound again. This time promised for more riches, for he had a cousin’s marriage to attend. Marriages! They do a thing to you, don’t they? He was rapt in the dream. He bade an early farewell for the station to check up his waitlisted ticket. All was in place. A perfect beginning to a perfect memory?
He went up to locate his seat and settle down. To his amusement, the row was empty (at least for the time being). He stretched his leg and cornered his bag and waited for the journey to start and finish off in a whoosh. Then they came. The brigade of fellow passengers with an army of see-off relatives! The words brigade and army are not misplaced for the amount of baggage they carried gave me a sense of moving caravan. It was good that I had seated myself up in the corner. I wonder if otherwise I could have muscled my way in. Reactions, The collective reactions of such a huge see off can be very promising. It was filled with action, from frame to frame. All of them had been grouped to two or three and the words followed the animated actions. Alas! It was time now. The engine stirred and he wondered would the mass get off the train safe in such quick alert? They sure did! He mused at the sight and smiled around. But it seems that the fate isn’t with a sense of irony. The wheels screeched and the train came to a halt almost as soon as it started. For a moment everything blanked out. Utter silence! Then all of them burst out. It was as if some great pressure had been applied to heart and tears were the temporary respite. The tears flowed! They have a way? Don’t they? Tears-the heart ways? Maybe tears are the words which our dictionary refuses to give a reckoning. It has a grammar, a punctuation and its pronunciation is profound, to say the least! He was left wondering.. ..The emotional quotient of an eye drop?

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The colours, the hue and the cry! Marriage Home! It was special in ways more than one for him. One He had too few cousin sisters. Two The present sister was the closest to him. She was away visiting her friends when he arrived. But as soon as she came back, she came to him! She had something to say he thought. But her words were lost in the accompanying company. She gulped it. It was later that day he could finally see her. She was with her cousin sum best friend. He thought words would surround him, questions and more questions? But She held him in a hug and cried. He felt helpless. Seeing her in cry her cousin joined her. He tried to console both of them recollecting the good times the laughter. But then he realized looking back at the laughter made them cry all the more. The good times, the silly times all conjured up hazy environ. Alas! He recounted the times when she was gruffly and angry on him and that seemed to work. Tears for good times and Smile for tears? Law of irreversibility? Can this be more confusing?

Racing through to the final act of leaving! The tears seemed to be a reflection of celebration. A celebration of her whiney smile that echoed in the house, her graceful walk lighting up the candles! Each drop glinted with her love for everyone and everyone’s love for her. It was wrapped in the warmth of her smell, her pure self.
Maybe tears are just words heart can’t express. For its diction and punctuation is vast to generalize in a casual manner.

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Death Funeral. The inconsolable tears!

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He sat down equating the tears. The tears for togetherness, The tears for celebration, The tears of loss! He realized he lacked the understanding of the basic structure. Perhaps just perhaps, the tears are a way of cleansing our eyes as we adjust them to focus on life again? Are they just a premature despair of lost cause? They say a thousand words and hide a thousand others. But do we still realize the grammar of tears, the heart ways?

Better Late Than Never :)

2009-01-30T13:38:00.000-08:00

Much water passed under the bridge since last? Eh? Guess that makes for an unending list of tags to be completed. I better get started with Alien’s else he warned me of dire consequences

1. What does your user name mean?
Shylock. Need Explanation? Grab Merchant of Venice: P. I pride in believing myself to be unsympathetic and demanding

2. Elaborate on your user photo.
An year old. On being asked to pose- the instant reaction was to fly.

3. How many comments do you have?
Really? You want to know them?

4. What's your current relationship status?
Hmmm. Single. If you have reasons to believe otherwise let me know. I should also indulge in the adventure

5. What exactly are you wearing right now?
A striped tee and boxers. Was this question meant to be some captcha or something? Wondering whether I was still human just like the word verification?

6. What is your current problem?
To chalk out a schedule for my project.

7. What do you love the most?
What- Food, Football, Blogging
If what is to be understood as progressive form of Who then Family and Friends

8. What makes you most happy?
Good Food, The touch of grass and the kiss of the ball?

9. Are you musically inclined?
Is there anything as musically inclined? I fear music for me is a mood reflector for seldom one sees a frolic song in somber environ.

10. What would you do if you woke up one morning and found out you were on cocaine?
I think my initial reaction would be to check the room I am in. Luck permitting, a bike ride? The air high to go on with cocaine?

11. If you could go back in time and change something, what would it be?
Wouldn’t have stopped playing football once I took to spectacles.
Wouldn’t have let my aggressive streak to desert me

12. If you MUST be an animal for ONE day, what would you be?
A squirrel or a rabbit? Run around without a care!

13. Ever had a near-death experience?
Had a accident of sorts. I am told, considering the narrow hilly road we might have toppled down. I was too young to gauge and be a part of the tension.

14. Name an obvious quality you have.
Ready for most things

15. What's the name of the song that's stuck in your head right now?
Cemeteries of London.
Sway(Of late this tune has struck onto me)

16. Are you happy today?
Yes. Its convocation time around in here. Got the chance to play with my first captain

17. Who will cut and paste this first?
Usha Ma’am , though she would be busy!

18. Name someone with the same birthday as you.
Virender Sehwag I believe.

19. Do you have a secret crush on someone?
Naaah.

20. Do you have a garbage disposal in your kitchen sink?
Hostel. Kitchen? Sink? I know about giving a ball a kitchen sink!

21. Have you ever been in a fight?
I have been. Some I regret, some I don’t.

22. Have you ever sung in front of a large audience?
Large audience? Singing? Duhh

23. What's the first thing you notice about the OPPOSITE sex?
Hmmm. The intelligence! The approach to a conversation?

24. What's your biggest mistake?
I am not yet repenting. Guess the biggest has to come yet.

25. Say something totally random about you.
--------------

26. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity?
No. Never. Do tell me if I can ever look like a footballer :P

27. Are you comfortable with your height?
Yes.

28. What is the most romantic thing someone has ever done for you?
If (romantic== Touching)
{
1. My farewell gift at school.
2. The letters my friends wrote to my after school.
}
Else
{
Still single.
}

29. What are your favourite smells?
Wet earth. ( Much had been artistically said about them)
Smell of a perfectly laid football pitch.
Oddly enough, diesel smells good.

And yes, the ‘smell’ of exotic mom’s cuisines.
30. What's something that really annoys you?
Frustration?

31. What's something you really like?
Playing. Being with Friends. Family. Cousins 

32. Do you give random hugs and kisses?
Kisses? I wonder. Hugs- Very much :P

33. What's the latest you have ever stayed up?
11.00 A.M.

34. Have you ever been rushed to the emergency room?
Nopes

I would like this to be done by:
Usha Ma'am
Sashu
Dita
Impulsive,Me

Sorry and Thank You?

2009-01-15T21:09:00.000-08:00

Since long? Eh? Hither I hop in to dust the place and ornament itJ. I shall be back with a post soon. Co-bloggers (Blogger :P) have been generous to me with their words. I beg pardon for the long delay and I present the award to myself without much ado: P.

Citation Of Proximity Award

These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers! Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.

Free and Independent blogger award

I pass these awards onto-

Usha Ma'm (For all the wonderful words and her unique gift to touch people with words)

Marvin (For he deserves the second chance to accept award. This might as well make him recollect things)

Piper(For the pipe he smokes, the ashes of whose make for an unmistakable read)

Temptress(For always surprising me withher words)

Banter(For her travelogues and her free spirit and everything in between)

oo7(For the amazing persistence and liking of my blog :D. Surely rain has a way :))

Impulsive,Me (For being impulsive :))

Mads(For the brilliance streaks with madness :P)

Thank you Usha ma’am for such a wonderful gesture. Indeed without your words this place would have been a sundry desert.

Moonie

2008-12-14T20:46:00.000-08:00

At each sunset gold,
When the day grows old
Into imbecile second childhood,
Warmth returned with the moon cold.

In the twilight hues of love,
In dusky remembrance of loved ones,
The outing was perfect cast,
Star diamonds adorned the lass.

Like a dream fairy she(night) sang,
Mellow voicings of love pangs.
Rekindle the magic, moved the wand.
Blessed she a diamond(star) from her casket.

For the countless others,
Who prepare to mislay without a romantic din,
She stripped her diamonds onto dew-eye drops,
As morning outdid the soothe caress.

She staggered again
Bathing in love aura, moonlit,
To preach the only thing
That matters anymore-
LOVE

P.S I guess a lot of posts are pending. Brief time off is working wonders for me- The travel, the time with family, its all so heavenly. Home food! I would be back to each of you sooner than you anticipate :) Lets bask in this brief hiatus :)

Awards Ceremony!

2008-11-22T22:26:00.001-08:00

Heavy eyes, goading for the bed and the consciousness of end-semester exams- Between these radical horizons I opened my PC to do some reading stuff। As usual, they had a way of surprising me. I dread the day; I would be off from computer- internet in particular. The tomorrow doesn’t sound as fascinating without the infinite possibilities a mail can bring, a message can impact! But today was different- inbox was empty and things to do list had a single line- “Study, Read, Cram- go through the rote one last time.” Truly auspicious beginning to the day, wont you say? But for a lazy me, it called for dozing off. Yeah, I hit the bed again! But the thoughts wouldn’t let me waver freely in sleep. Two hours hence, I start STUDYING. The motivating lectures were enough to spank up the timid determination. This marked blog time!

Butterfly award- by a co-blogger ensured I didn’t have a drought in terms of awards with this year. The year had almost dawned and I given up. But the infinite possibilities the internet can bring! A butterfly of hope, of colours adorns my blog. Thanks a tone- Usha, Ma’am! Goosebumps!

For the rules!

1. Put the logo on the blog.

2. Add a link to the person who presented it to you.

3. Pass this one, and link other bloggers that you'd like to share it with.

I would like to pass the baton to:

Life For Rent?

2008-11-20T07:46:00.000-08:00

Instead of stressed, lie here I charmed;

Ergo vestal emotions swanned unarmed.

The tempting indulgence- Laziness.

A Love, everyone chooses to abuse,

A jitter, circumstance wouldn’t excuse।

Peered around he amid passions spent,

Escape from reason his intent,

The tempting indulgence- Laziness.

Cosmic Silence. Muddled Identities?

Individually Multiple? Multiply Alone?

Entirety in hindsight is comic,

Deserved scanned an eye skeptic.

The tempting indulgence- Laziness.

Every me for every you?

Borrowed? Spent?

The comfort came calling late,

Wondered he, was anything ever at stake?

The tempting indulgence- Laziness.

The cling. The swing.

A Life for rent?

P.S. Those who are giving it a second read, I modified it a bit. Just felt like doing so :)
The tempting lazy indulgence.----The tempting indulgence- Laziness.

Lost Innocence!

2008-11-05T00:20:00.000-08:00

The deadlines were approaching thick and fast. As usual the workload was piling up. It was snail’s pace versus the Hercules. He was uninterested, if not anything else, to say the least. He took to the report his partner had framed and turned it into shreds. He recalled all his lessons and frightfully they were too many of them. The English lessons, common sense lessons, building lessons et al. After all he was brought up being fed on knowledge bytes. Soon he found himself to be buoyed down by the weight. The weight of pretense, the weight of expectation, the weight of futility! He dragged because his partner thought he could, they thought he would and he thought he should. No other logic could deny this over exaggerated simple lemma.

He bid his time as time bypassed him।

More than once, he was tempted to let go of it as he saw the nonchalance of others, but something in him inexplicably wouldn’t let him. Maybe he was so gripped by vexation that he was ready to drop his armor and find his way through, once and for ever. But he knew it would come back like the water under the bridge it would go on.

He was gripped in a bundle of contradictions.

He veered out of his room. His home bound friends were already back- back with talks, back with eatables! He thought he had found respite. Lo and Behold! He really had! In the mess of packets, peeking out was the Raj Comics edition of नागराज and सुपर कमांडो धृव! An initiation of introduction sorts would definitely end up being “हम Cholromint क्यूँ खाते है?” “दोबारा मत पूछना”. Don’t even give it a second thought!

He had new found energy and zeal to conquer his dilly dallies. He strode to the room with new zeal and the pride of a conqueror king with the prized possession in his hands. He scanned, skimmed and dodged through the report. It was a laborious task nonetheless. But he rubbed it aside with zeal and vigor. The ceiling no longer seemed to cast the same dry shade of white, it was different. The world suddenly shrunk. How?

How? How is but the form of following the function of Why.

Why? He wanted to be done away with the present and slip into oblivion- slip into the tangled innocence of comic days. He fathomed all his stupidity to roam in the land of magical belief albeit the worldly presence.

Why? Because there are no certainties there are only opportunities.

He kept staring at the ceiling long after he was done with the reading. He thought to himself that maybe he needed a place where he could strip to his stupidity and play around with his foolishness. His heavy eyelids feared the silent screams of the dreams as they prepared to be weighed down by the ceiling.

Accompany me, Will you?

2008-10-23T04:13:00.000-07:00

The world reeled under his feet. Drifting away in circles! The clamp carted the wheels and it clanged its baritone, in anticipation of the meet. As the intensity grew louder, he could hazily make out the waving hands. His journey had started. A fulfilling time off at home to the inevitable back to workplace the time span seemed too narrow. The world is definitely mean in the sense that we can’t clutch to all that we want. He took to his seat and saw around. Nothing! Not even a single guy in the compartment? Suddenly a train of thought gripped him and he began to wander back to the home days- the merry making, the laziness, the LOVE. It filled him with renewed vigor and the urge to be return home soon.

Time passed. Few passengers boarded the AC compartment, still a very few! He was cramped; the cozy seat was too unyielding to smooth dreams. The blank outside threatened of greater sins elsewhere. It was all deafeningly silent, the likes which he never liked! The happy prospect of friends filled him and the happy days edged him to a sleep. He dreamt about the beauty of everything- tangible to intangible, real to surreal!

Alas! The morning was too nearby- lurking in the horizon. Seldom has a day passed with silent mornings. Mornings seems to rub off the vitality in everyone. Mornings are like new beginnings as if the world is going to last for a day. Nonetheless the feeling wears down as the day progresses but reassumes and reinforces itself the next morn. So there he was, awakened with all the noises that raked the mouse off the carriage! He jumped up did his brushing and unpacked the cookies he had brought to eat. It took him sometime to really gasp that his woes of a lonely journey is coupled with the train’s slow locomotion. Certain shades of reality would have donned his face. But how could he know? How could he imagine that wrinkles play a facial game? He had never thought he could replicate emotions in face- He wasn’t an actor.

By evening he was disgusted by the smell of the carriage, the airlessness of it. He made his continuous tours to the door. The wind grazed his brazen face. The wind was so alien that he was reminded of his home instantaneously. He hardly realized that the train was screeching to a halt. Snapped he was from his thoughts and suddenly he found a face- radiating the smoothness of known, the warmth which he was attached with. He wouldn’t mistake the cutting, the color of her face. She had to be her. He was sure of himself; his memory of his school was so vivid to betray him. Then he mustered courage to question her- he couldn’t think of anything else! His purpose was defeated when he heard a flat no. He wondered!

Back to boredom, he was fleeting with the wind when she called for him. Another twist in tale! He had his suspicions back with him by then. But he let them go. She radiated the kind of eager enthusiasm and radiant enigma that he lived in the moment. He was glad that he gave chance a chance to win and wasn’t he excited? She was the random flower and he became the buzzing bee. Like a magic tale it lingered. It all happened as if it were destined. She was everything. She displayed all her facets in that short span, but he was sure it was just a tip. He was getting ready with the ski board to jump head long into the iceberg!

The curl by her ear,
Eerie thoughts by the sear,
Wrinkled the sun beams with the lear!

That was all he could say, he could realize-before her stop came! Some story in his childhood had warned him to be cautious of strangers and boiled eggs. He was happy that books weren’t the sole experience of godliness. Good things are bound to happen rather unexpectedly!

Time of My Life!

2008-10-17T11:14:00.000-07:00

It has been eons since I had a totally grumpy afternoon and I decide to pick the rags from the riches of my computer hard drive. Time grabbed me by the wrist and directed me to Green Day’s- Time of your Life. So lost was I in its connotation, its import that I decide to overcome the laziness and write a post rather earlier than my usual snail speed.

For the uninitiated, I am in my last year of undergraduate studies (Of course until unless my college people decide otherwise). The rate with which I let myself to be tamed by time is rather obnoxious. The comparisons are nauseous. The equivalences between a-then-me and a-now-me are non existent. I could never recollect a day when I went to exams unprepared।Alas! It was a story which existed only in then time frames! I hardly remember the last time I took to serious preparations! My exams came and went with a jiffy. But did I wonder for a second as to what it meant to be so oblivious? The care free me forgetting to bring in the calculators for the exams and not even letting it affect me in the aftermath does speak volumes of my negligence, doesn’t it? For the other exam I didn’t give a damn just because the others weren’t looking too committed either. So I can be pardoned for that sin! But the day next when I had one off the important papers- What did I do for preparations? Play the whole evening. Started reading at 10- Stopped by 10.45 and slept till the exam. So much so that it didn’t affect me like anything. An ant crawled over a goofy fur? Enough room for my carefree no-matter-what attitude? I leave space to tumble myself in the ignominy of my former self. But then do I matter? Even in the former outfit? Just for the record Am I giving in too easily or do these things don't deserve the look? I Am just curious! Are all the bricks in the wall same or is mine different?

So much so for the time of my life!

The people I would like to be around at present, doing the things I miss doing are sitting elsewhere in some other part of the world. Now all I yearn for is a neat dossier of chat which at some point was much more than life capsules. I am learning to live with it. I am learning to be aimless. I am learning to be the crowd in crowding sphere! May be perhaps it is a juncture in time? A fork still struck on the road? I am being cast in outcast role. My sentences are silent and my eagerness slimed. Do I need to cut through? To fight for all that could be mine? The juice really worth the squeeze? Is moral fibers not mean clinging to what you like? I am still passive. Maybe I want this spell to get over. But I am struck with a jinx. I don’t know how to distinguish when nothing ends and something begins? Help me guys!

Eating Sugar... No PAPA!

2008-10-10T10:29:00.000-07:00

I, for one, had always been associated with food as much as anything else. This is one identity which unites my many other false individualities. I own to it quite blithely! Period.

For me it is not merely a “breaks time” between the episodes of me being alive and kicking। Within the constitution of this life sentence we all succumb to the dark temptation of food. The sensation of taste is intimated with sequences small and large that we tend to overlook its import. The taste of success, the taste of life, the taste of love et al revolves and bonds around the smell of good food. No wonder all the winsome moments in life call for good food. Let it be a Date or a Treat- Good food has the uncanny knack of transfusing hypnotism in the sphere. It falsifies environ to soothe, the talks to mellow, the air smells reasonable and its scent to intoxicate!

Is this just a frameless mechanism? Is it one of the things which illudes once in a while? Perhaps we can never know! Perhaps maybe the ‘patient’ waiting in a restaurant bears testimony to it. It can’t be just a sheer coincidence how good food can heal so many things unnoticeably, as stealthily as silent thoughts! It would always be an understatement how good things start with food. A city is as much known for its cultural dimensions as much as it is for its special cuisines. These are so intertwined that Lakhnabi Kebabs and Hyderabadi Biriyani potentially can catalyst a conversation to flush between any we-don’t-know-each-other.

Mom’s cuisine tastes all so heavenly, for the food has her smell- the one smell which I can never emulate while I cook. Blinkingly, I travel my dinner! Good food is not any other food that tastes good! Good food stimulates body, as much as Rum can stimulate the brain. The romance is to be lived over and over again! For it won’t ditch you, it would manifest itself in others forms and catch you- a blind eye and a equally absurd mouth (claiming that any food tasting good is good food) have their reasons to be FISHY(pun intended).

P.S. It just ogled out when I was trying to dissuade my friend, making him see the difference between food that tastes good and good food.

When the Ball hit the Pitch!

2008-10-07T08:39:00.001-07:00

He reached there with a dream, and if anything, his last screaming kicks with the team flooded his dreams. The team, he had learn to play with, the only team he could play with and be injured for. He had lived with the dream and he had prepared to let everything in for that. He looked up and he found solace, for he had his favorite player of his dreams in his very team. If Real had a Sergio Ramos, we sure had one who could lift us from any situation, score goals, defend, give life (Even take one) each time he touched the ground. He knew he had to support his Ramos this time with his life.

The first thing he did after he threw his bags to the corner of an allotted hall- check out the pitch. He gulped down his own disappointment. Rollers! Bulldozers! Not a single blade of grass! To couple the woes, the ball was bouncing too alarmingly and the flanks were pebbled with concrete! He was promised match under floodlights- he for sure had the match under floodlights. Suddenly he found others claiming nonchalantly about the pitch, that the dream fever gripped him on. The team hurried through the opening ceremony for they had been scheduled for the third match of the night. He stayed back with Ramos to watch the first half of the first match. Teams looked good, competent but scoring goals looked a herculean tasks given the pace and bounce of the pitch! Nonetheless they managed to sneak one in.

He had a few silent words with Ramos, who like all great leaders had the uncanny knack of motivating with right words. I shall remember those words forever. “You might loose a tackle, look foolish but the collective foolishness of this sort would invoke anxiety in any team”. So sure was he with his football spikes that he needed the ball and the team to melt under his welt. He let out the fears, for he only had place to fill himself with passion. He went into the game, egging others to shed the side talks.

He started with his customary left flank, defending and assisting the mid fielders। Patrolling back and forth, looking up to Ramos for the inspiration-for the geniuses। They had tackled well, defenders sold their sweats and the forwards pushed for inches in the uncontrollable twitching field. Meanwhile goalkeeper grabbed a brilliant save to spur the team on. He had by now moved to the midfield to assist Ramos and let all others to blink their tries at the goals. It was not coming. Alas! Luck isn’t a non existent quantity! It was not to be his day!

He stepped unto take his penalty with the score line reading 2-3, he had his vision and bartered his luck. He netted it in and fervently hoped that at least the luck can’t turn a blind eye now. He was wrong. He lost. His team lost. The team he was playing for the final time in a tournament. He was devastated. Perhaps, he should have dreamt about luck and luck solely!

Letter to letter!

2008-08-14T23:12:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr Chaddhaji urf Rajaji,

Guess this note shall find two more little chickens dead, before you actually read this। But your small act of intimidating violence would perhaps be negligible in terms of terror your dear roomie invoked tonight. Let me sprinkle a few details for the readers who might want to peep in!

The day started with a hunt down for cake. Finally we settled for a Choco-Walnut-Eggless cake. Eggless because certain creatures like John g Buss detest the concept of egg-chicken-egg. As most of the uncivilized tummies are at home, taking civil lessons (namely Gol and your humble self), hence the Choco Walnut। The whole idea of peaceful cake-gobbling ceremony was taken apart into shreds। Not so because the invitees, thought otherwise but because like a man of action, the scene caught on with DM Saab (Birthday Boy)। The longer the John took to blow-in the candles the keener were his faculties and intentions becoming। By the time the candles were needed to be blown off, he had already gathered all his intentions and strength.

No wonder, John was the first in line. Then came Chintu in line and so on it went. Dood Dengzongpa’s clean face was not lost on his eyes. He watched each and all and wrecked havoc. Even, our old Budhau wasn’t spared, not even a semblance of respect. So excited and rampant was he that even the white shirt of mine didn’t get past him. Needless to say, the maimed junta was trying to make the scapegoat out of Chintu. Alas! That was not to be. DM saab is becoming too vocal in his support for black people!

It resulted in DM saab chatting on phone and others fleeing to the wash basin। After initial clean ups, Chintu decided changing his shirt even after being fore warned once and over. Taken aback with fury or maybe promised special privileges (@ night. Gol had left earlier in the day) John proposed the customary bumps. C as usual dreamt that we can do the impossible- lift him. DM saab agreed exclusively to John’s demands, i.e. Only John was entitled to lift him. The generosity/benevolence on DM saab’s part had filled John with shame and he decided to let go of it.

It was the time for round two। The junta was devising plans in whispers. But mainly it revolved around retaliating against his venom. Few suspecting characters like Chingaari baadshah and respected Budhau kept distance and stealthily walked up to Manu. Like the experienced campaigner, he was ready. His plans flawless- execution perfect. Such had been his preparation. Before anything could happen, he ordered a bottle of DEW for himself. As the non-suspecting carefree party goers accumulated near the counter- up he went. Even the dreamy eyed rubbish was not spared.

By then John was overcoming his fear (We suspect he had been promised extended privileges @ night)। He managed to goad Manu in his own distinct hainnnn style, and accumulated the vegetarian stuffs which he could smear and DM saab would loathe. That was half a glass of curd! Gullu C (In between his rounds of running and getting saved) managed to pick up the sauce cum jam pichkari.

Yes. That was all that could be inflicted on him. But his evil designs were no-where near to be coming to an end. He ordered a bottle of DEW again. Can you see people running helter-skelter? With the exercise for the day done, he calmed down physically. He made a deal- Handing in Chintu for the rest of us. There is no one more experienced in these matters than Chintu. He had smelled his unbecoming, so he disappeared into the darkness (pun intended).

Such had been the colossal day. When the whole of the country prepares to sway independently, we were running for cover.

Taking your leave,
Yours sincerely,
C wingers.

P.S. Your room still lies in stink cum cake paste condition. John somehow managed his dream night amidst the bakk in his room. DM saab is spending the day lavishly in Gol’s bed. Digi Dev has privileged your room earlier in the day. It goes without saying unable to satiate his techie arrows, DM had a point to prove. Only too bad that we were the ones who were hunted! Hope this gives you enough reasons to feel ashamed and guilty.

Individually Multiple ??

2008-08-10T11:08:00.000-07:00

He fought in vain. The sleep was no-where near to be. He looks above at the blank ceiling for some time- hoping the white colours heavies the brows. But it was not to be. Disgusted, he gets up and fills himself a glass of water. With only the maddening silence of the white walls, he sat around balcony overlooking a small field.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Earlier in the day, he found himself in this very different city. Different to what he was used to both in terms of size- Oversize and Micro-size (:D). But he found it difficult to come in terms with the city-partly because he felt feverish throughout the journey and partly because he had never met this aunt of his.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As he let the flowing air fill his conscience, he began to look around to confirm his bearings. He had been the newest imported victim- of the perennial power cuts. He wondered if this was a way of harassing people who never did their homework in time. He hated power cuts for it meant long hours of isolation- He would miss cartoon networkL. Mom had already left for shopping with her sister. He was never considered for markets, for he had distaste towards bargaining. His mom would always complain of his failing towards the value of money, much to his chagrin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maybe the field was not so small after all. The toddlers’ feet came rushing at the stroke of 5 pm. The timing was amazing, the synchrony perfect. With one loud call all the tiny tots filled the ground. The ground seemed gigantic for the tiny steps. The boundaries were shortened, the stumps drawn erect. How he wished the kids opted for hide and seek? He would have monitored each of their places with a frigging grin. After all these kids now a day’s learn the intricacies of cricket much before they are knowledgeable to games like hide and seek. He mused at the change! Was this only confined to this new city?

All drawn, the question wrested on team division. As usual a hue and cry was raised for the choice of first player. They recounted yesterday’s division and so on it went. Note worthy was not the cacophony, rather the way each one of them argued about the player number one, as if the whole team was divided and they were cashing for the extra slot. More surprisingly, it was a she-The only girl amongst the players. The senior most (at least he looked so) settled the issue and the teams were finally partitioned.

He had already foreseen the quarrel for bat first issue. But that was not to be. He was pleasantly surprised. The sight of tiny toddlers reaching for the ball, running shouting made for the beautiful sight. He felt not all was that different from his own city. The plaintive joys devoid of any malice marked the gentleman’s game. Just when, he was beginning to believe that his time was spent for good, things took unexpected turns. Although the jarring of fan had announced the arrival of notorious electricity he decided not to budge.

The tiniest of the tiny had gone into bat. He had quite a bad time in the middle. His team members demanded that he retire himself out. But he was not willing to die down. The captain suddenly comes down to the pitch and orders him to leave the pitch and declare himself out. The non-striker was supporting the cause. Things worsened, slangs were thrown (:O). Unexpected?
The declared out batsmen with a heavy face, watery eyes went off to his home. Few deliveries later he came back, this time accompanied by her sister. She had the questioning glance all over her gaze. She reprimanded him- the way an elder sister does when she feels he needs her protection. The tone of hers got better. She had turned friendly after her initial rebukes. She had even made them shake hands!

He was anxious. He was waiting eagerly for the reel to roll over. He kept hoping that the sister leaves and allows the kids to settle their matter themselves. But the serial dragged on. Just as when he expected the final end, he drew up to the edge of the seat. But there was something else. It virtually rained on his hopes. And it rained big. Perhaps he had yet not come to terms with the city. Just maybe!

LOST IN RAIN

2008-07-11T01:11:00.000-07:00

Steps behind steps, he walked away, aghast,
Maimed, through the mirror, into past.
Rough smoothed into crass effervescence..
Meanders he in rain perturbed silence.

Will he be heard?

Drenched in converging longings,
Whistled he, mellow singings.
Should he take a step back?
To embrace it all back?

Will he be heard?

Neglected. Lost. Dreamy.
Vapoury thoughts, Hazy environ.
Warm tears of rain,
As steps trail the steps again.

Will he be heard?

When he said nothing at all...

2008-06-30T05:04:00.000-07:00

He lay listless। Rather against his wishes! The buzz in his hand hinged with impatience.

“Ah! Well a-day! What evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung”

Indeed the cross of albatross was wrung around his hand, with a prickly needle. He looked up in hope of breaking out of this nightmare. Alas! All he could see, drop-by-drop reminder of his non-existence. A bottle of glucose took ages to pump in her soul, only to be replaced by another. It was twilight; it had rained the day before. The cool breeze brought in the smell of fresh guavas and the memories dropped him into a lumber. Everything was perfect, except him.

The plethora of wishful thinking filled him. The hum in his head got louder. He was still expressionless. The effort worthy of applause, for any wrinkles would invite “Don’t TAX yourself”. The lazy and sleepy days ticked with clock and he no longer needed drops of life. How happy he was! He let aloud a grunt. He made for two ringing circles around the bed sprightly. That was all he could do. PITY! That much for 5 days of glucose, he had to recline to bed. Things came crashing again.

Incidentally, his memory cells realized he could only vaguely recall the musings of the last day। Diagnosis of pre-coma had called for relatives-near and far। The number of people sitting by him and the hands mopping his head- he failed to recount. He had hoped the glucose would run the magic wand in his life. It did, albeit his wishes were enormous for the recovery. He chewed his own lips and let out a silent grunt. The silence of the glum day, the silence of thoughts- it was deafening.

Hours passed, Days passed. He was permitted to sit for few minutes. He was allowed idiocy of idiot box. All he thought was, the grass is getting greener this side! The Euro-Cup would keep him busy between the rounds of his sleep. If he managed few more hours, Wimbledon was waiting for him. He watched them with the intensity he knew, even if he knew the results (He wasn’t allowed the late night Euro-Cup matches, he settled for the recorded version of it in the morn).

Slowly, he was getting grasp of things back again. No longer was the puppet held by strings from all the sides. Internet, Restricted home food and bouts of listening. His place was swarming with people, and he caught up with lost relations and interesting gossips. The only thing he didn’t realize then- Time had turned foes with him and was flying away against his wishes. He counted the number of days and rather dutifully he bade a good bye and started off his vigil elsewhere.

Wonderful isnt it? How a com(m)a changes the sentences of life!

Questions Galore!

2008-05-22T01:11:00.000-07:00

Since long!! Let’s recollect the reactions of transpired moments.

The last blog entry saw me rushing head long into the end semester exams. Yeah more importantly the “SE”mester was drawing to a close after a series of successful( not so eventually) presentations. Precariously enough, I dug out through another subject. Ahh, the holidays! They should rather be re- named as holydays, for their amazing way of cleansing minds (Good food had always been the stimulant. The whetstone for all the things big and large :P) and spirits (sleep).

Bus to Mumbai was scheduled at 8, so I did pack my bags in a jiffy. Yeah, I caught up on the last day of football with seniors. The sleep conjured images all bright and plaintively astonishing. Did I mention earlier, I was speeding to Bombay to meet my married cousin? The whole of mom’s place seemed to be flooding the flat and the next and the next. 25 odd! Kids--- kindergarten, “chaar foot do inch” etc etc had given enough reasons the other building members to cast a brow. Interestingly enough, the atmosphere was unwilling to die down, even though it was five days past to D-day.

Bhabhi got the first taste of oriya life. It won’t be a understatement if I say, she was dumbfounded not just by the eating habits but the quantity too. She tried but failed to assimilate how the pantha bhaath(rice water. Sorry I don’t know how best to elaborate that), fishes, dried pickles could melt away all the tiredness of the day (Marketing that is. Would grind through it in due course of time)? I had the luxuries if a KFC and McDonald nearby. No wonder, it was the most inexplicable scene before a dietician, who believes rice eating is either for feeble and chaps with lot of physical labor. No wonder the simplest of things are harder to digest for the knowledgeable. But she wouldn’t fret, and each and everyone sans the kids and me (I never admitted that I was hooked to cool drinks), were meted a long list of dietary habits for free. Doctors aren’t so bad after all!

Shopping, Marketing I thought was occasion specific. The myth was shattered to shreds. The gleam in the eyes was a sight in itself. I was invariably dragged to market as the coolie man. I didn’t flinch a bit for it provided me ample opportunities to corner each aunt and uncle in turn. This meant a lot of baggage both physically (as usual I put on weight) and literally (My half full onward bag was converted to a nospaceforair thing). Sorry for diverting, I should be concentrating on the surrounding not me. My point was, purchasing or no purchasing, the sight of market stimulated “ladies” to no end. The prospect of bargaining seemed to be the only game they played from grade two.

Twas part one of marketing. Now comes the part two. It strictly consists of jewels. Do people not get surprised if you fetch onion when you were asked to purchase “Aloo”? Then how would the same set of persons—“PERSONS OF WISDOM” enter a pearl shop, when they debated and decided to have GOLD? ( If you get through the logic, please ping me. Even otherwise, life’s getting boring)

The train journey was taken up in getting the limelight for being the next SCAPEGOAT. Yes, I am second in line. Select a gujju girl, Punjabi girl blah blah blah(The pronounced effect of a Punjabi marriage). The words of wisdom came from various mouths ranging from 6 years to 80 years. DAMN! In between all the pestering and love, I was to stop the kid-errands! Think of fetching a 6 year old three bogeys down, playing EA sports on someone’s cell! Did I forget to mention the plate of shrimps (specially packed for me :D) between the rounds of hugs?

Thus, engaged I did fulfill my eventful journey. Biked my way from the station into the newly A/C’ed room. Statement1: Are you taking medicines on time? Statement2: Today chicken! This marked the beginning of food festival for me. Chicken, Mutton,Lobster,Prawns,Crabs, Chowmein and Eggs! Wait I forgot to add PaniPuri and the sweet dose of steam cakes. The order may not be necessarily the same. Found time to catch up on IPL, friends-- lost in time, lost in space. Yeah, like all good things it came to an end!

This post reminds me of the bountiful home and the train journey!

Tag'd

2008-04-25T12:33:00.000-07:00

Days of hard work and it gets nullified by a single non- validation! Yeah, I have no other thing going in my mind, so giving this tag a go. How grateful shall I remain to Buddha to tag me, only time shall test!

Last Movie Seen in Theatre

Hmmm… hmmmm.. Wait I think I have turned a full cycle. No “theatre movie” :O this sem. “Om Shanti Om” was my last with a multiplex.
Good? Bad? Passable?
Remember Deepika?

Book Being Read

If(e-books satisfy the criteria)

{

“Chariots of the Gods”- Erich Von Danniken. God or astronauts? Pictures of earth’s panorama even when fire was unknown to human kind!

}

Else

Academic books, notably on filters (never grasped what they filter in and what they filter out).

Favourite Board Game

Was interesting to note, in other tags, how games slipped past with years. Rules still change in my dictionary almost everyday as we(Me, Mom and brother) argue over the board(Caroms, Monopoly or Ludo). The games which captivated me as a kid- Lexicon and Instant cricket.

Favourite Magazine

Duhh.. Havent been on any from ages. Science Reporter and Wisdom with all the promises to the exalted sphere of intelligentsia, were previewed with vigor. Alas! It was once upon a time!

Favourite Smells

Wet earth. ( Much had been artistically said about them)

Smell of a perfectly laid football pitch.

Oddly enough, diesel smells good.

And yes, the ‘smell’ of exotic mom’s cuisines.

Favourite Sounds

Droplets of rain from the asbestos to the grills to the water puddle. Period.

The rhythm of a march past( read the scouts escapades).

The group of storks fluttering their wings in the pond while you nestle in some tree branch.

What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?

Check my cell to be informed of the TIME!

Worst feeling in the world

Going through one now. When all your hard works are not even looked upon. Coupling it up with the tag “COPIED”.

Sitting in the audience and seeing your team lose.

Favourite Fast Food Place

Anything, anywhere.

Aap main aur DEW ki bottle?

Future Child’s Name

Aahh.. Mom has already reserved the rights! SORRY ya.

Finish this statement, “If I had a lot of money I’d…” go to all sorts of places to see MANCHESTER UNITED play.

Do you drive fast? Quite a lot by mom’s standards. Otherwise, it mainly depends on MOOD!

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? No. Of course not.

Storms - Cool or Scary? COOL.

Do you eat the stems on broccoli? “Zara ORIYA mein samjhayiyega”. I eat on Albert R. Broccoli 007 movies.

If you could dye your hair any colour, what would be your choice? Black. My hairs are getting white!

All towns/cities you have lived in Balasore, Bhadrak, Berhampur, Bhubaneswar, Kolkata, Hyderabad, Mumbai, Gandhinagar.

Favourite sports to watch Football. Nothing compares to the nascent magic of football in move.

Cricket(read India),Hockey ( read brother), Badminton (read Dad)…hmmmm WWE as a child. :P.

One nice thing about the person who sent this to you “He has words of WISDOM gathered over experience. Don’t overlook them”

What’s under your bed?

A suitcase locked with dirty secrets and dark fantasies. Pair of sports shoes. Hmmm and a lots of dust.

Would you like to be born as yourself again? Yes. But as a younger sibling.

Morning person or night owl?

Someone said: - “Dawn is the time when men of reason take to bed”.

Over easy or sunny side up?

Feed back me on that.…

Favourite Place to Relax

Present State: Galla.

Wishful State: Village. With the echoing silence of time.

Favourite Pie

Chocolate Pie. Never tried anything else.

Favourite Ice Cream

Butter Scotch, Anything with Chocolate.

Ahhh.. The easiest part. Hmmmm

I pass the baton to Tuli, Evil(ution), Malvika.

Life After Coffee

2008-04-16T00:53:00.001-07:00

He is restless. He is flummoxed by the hopelessness of it all. He abhors it. Period.

It all started with a foolish promise- Be Regular! So he decides to give it a go. Even the sight of his colleagues’ recluse to the old comforts, after a week, did not deter him. Interestingly, this did not go un-noticed. Proof- The stack of PRS (Sophisticated instruments for marking attendance) lying on his table. See, nothing was left to fate! The first unconscious attempt (unwell) to miss a class resulted in missing a POP quiz. He took it in his positive stride and waged on.

Life seemed not so difficult. The football days, the chocolate sundaes blended itself well with the presented time. He could manage to enjoy his college fest! Good times? Time changed gears. Screws were tightened. The work re-enforced itself and had to be re-iterated (Damn! No other. Sentence could even come close to explain the work process or the flow model). The load got better of him, yet he didn’t betray the conscious effort of being regular. He tried. He slogged.

(More deliberations on the above pic can be found here)

Twelve days to the final exams. He realizes other courses have stiffened the bottle neck too. He frowned at the futility of it all. The aimless, he of last semester- to the present him, the transformation seems to be wasted. At least he is made to believe that.

Walking is he, with the constant tag at his neck- “Work Pending”. Even football lost its taste. He cribs. He sulks but he is working. The struggle no more is the promise to the exalted regularity. Rather to move down the alley in twelve days. Sight of exams were never more welcome than today. He surmises and has a quiet laugh at past. He did his shoe lace right and made sure to polish them, when he was a kid! Today he finds pushed about by time. Not passing it, rather allowing times to by-pass him.

He looks at the week next. Presentations and exams are lined up from Monday to Friday. He mops his hair, allows a wicked cruel smile. He reminds himself to book a ticket home sooner. He is happy!

Moral of the Story: Don’t let yourself bound by obligations! Else the memento mori will have its say!

When he was ALONE.....

2008-03-16T03:48:00.000-07:00

He stood gaping at his shadow,
In weird thoughts and distant memories,
By cold snaps piercing the quietness,
Besides himself, he wailed her name,
Brusquely it came and stumbled he, in tame.

When tormenting thoughts encircled,
Swayed he in dreams, disturbed.
All he conjured,
The dimpled beam on the face,
And the little curl besides the ear।

The casting lamp forlorn,
He walked loud with anklets worn.
Reaching her breath on his skin,
And her impelling hair on his fingers, akin.
Peered he with eyes wide shut.

He traced her smile from faking memory,
Feeling through the soft length of her body.
He waits the evening of split wine.
Imprinting illusions of reality.
The lovers dream they had seen!

The Train She Never Took

2008-03-10T11:50:00.000-07:00

It all started with the innocuous of scraps. Hail Orkut! Your stumbling upon anyone from remote past is nothing short of miraculous. Series of scraps, fervent replies, the feeling of childhood rejuvenating – The circle spun on. Unlike most things, the fervour didn’t die. The little complaints, held for long needed answers. All in all the cement, the mortar for the next wall was totally bridged. Scraps to instant messages the transition was virtually unnoticed.

As it seemed, there could be no end to talks, came the lull. The period of no scraps, no gtalk pings! Exams! Like all bad things, it had a good side. It wouldn’t be insanely Herculean to gather a force to loathe exams. Just the degree varied with persons as did the language. The end of exams marked the lengthier nights to be filled with so called acts. Coincidentally, both he and she began to talk beyond the past into present. Life of speculations, life of relationships!

The online chatting really does pioneer in getting hideous scandals revealed. For reasons difficult to fathom, it’s always easier grieving over chat or a phone than in face. The case in point was no different. It looks even more ridiculously childish; when rather than drawing nodding sympathy he gets mocking lols (grins). Soon enough the minutes of past and present gets done with. Yet, the diminished eagerness lingered. Gtalk seemed passé! Messages and calls! So much so that the usual decency of leaving out of rooms in search of alone space was lost on the frequency of calls. The attractions seemed aplenty, but reality lay somewhere far off.

Things lead to one another and the whole world conspired with the fate। They were to meet! How absurd did it sound? For each knew the other with flummoxing familiarity credited to close friends. They were to see the other growing out of digital snaps for the first time. It was she who rang up, and fixed the place. He was quite unsure of the place, and loitered around to find the smiling face. The so called mandatory hand-shakes backwashed into a period of nerve wrecking silence! No words, even to the point of stammering!Time eased them through the initial hiccups. Maybe to reduce the state of animated silence, they decided to move out to a quieter junction, perhaps to a food station!

So did they march along with the nonchalant questions of present well being and so on। The food did wonders; nothing else could have otherwise explained the radical visible changes. Then it happened! The first touch! She took his arm and gave a peg and he didn’t mind it a bit. When the caressing did melt the hours, was beyond comprehension on after thought. But it did. Everything sounded better from her. She too listened with passion, the things she hardly entertained in chats. Such was the silent intensity!

Seldom has there been anything good about good bye except for debunking the latent emotions। The auto drive back forth surfaced the sentimental issues. He was quiet, she was rapt. Silence was to witness the trying hard to hold tears and the patting re-assurance. The whole gamut, ran through months of chat ran in single vivid flame. It felt miraculous to be in each others company aloof from reality. He saw her loosing reins, loosing herself in belief. He would wait.He promised he would wait for her train.

P.S. When people around you start spinning stories, the cult is rather far too challenging not to catch up.

Eerie Haunts!!

2008-03-03T10:18:00.000-08:00

Its time, in fact a lot of time, too much of waters have passed under the bridge! I finally decide to rest my resolution aside for meanwhile and come up with something for the blog। Some grey cells turned BLACK (dead), few blood cells enflamed (AGNEE) and rest of the cells, memory ones seems to have ceased multiplying.

Confusing? For those who credited me with normal average memory power this post might make some sense. For others, check out the writings of OSHO :P. The other day, D day (Re-Kriti Finals), to my utter surprise I was clueless to what might my blog address be! Not even my assumed pen name! I was left to the state of stammered silent cursing.

This by no means is the beginning of the indication. During one off the walks to SARDAR, I found myself coming in different angles in tryst to come up with the word “auction”.It was not the one off words. “Exploit” as a word had to be explained as “Shoshan”. The interesting arguments in leading to my re-realisation of the word, notwithstanding, I see me loosing my reins.

So flooded was I with the chunk of memories garbaged over 21 years, that it reiterated upon myself in forms. It culminated in a series of reflections! The life without memory?Inking your body with words as memento? Letting your brain process a little longer in order to whet back pleasant days? Yuck, have I been sounding too pessimistic?

Unbelievingly enough I get across this telegraph article as if to remind me “ पिक्चर अभी बाकी है दोस्तों”। The guy in case, keeps coming back and loves the same thing over and over again. Proposing his wife all over again and again and again! Did he not freeze time at its most elusive point? The idea of diminishing returns would still be a no-no place. Without memory we would just be hapless at the scenarios around us. But that does not restrict us from attaching value to things, reacting to stimuli by automatic instinct.

Yet, we reinforce the taxed brain for memory. Important dates! Yet we fall on the implications. How much are we aware of at each moment is rather limited. We assimilate and force opinions on prior experience and present conscience. The instincts, first impression lose its way to time. No wonder the world needs few million billions of TB!

अशांत सांझ

2007-10-07T10:11:00.000-07:00

सांझ है धुंधली, दिल में हैं कल्पनाएं अनेक,

दिल के वाद थे कितने, मगर पडी एक अहम अनेक,

स्नेह निर्झर बह गया, अर्थ जीवन का ढह गया,

दिल उस घात पर टीक गया, जहाँ जमाना हंसती थी मैं रो गया

दर्द नही कोई सी पाया, ठहाके नही छिन्नेक,

गाता रह गया बैठा वहाँ, अवागा प्राणी एक,
यहीं दिलों के हाट में, जुटे मनचले यार,
कोल्हाहल, उन्सुनी कर सारा संसार

वो हंसी आज भी गूंजती है, कहती थी,
फिर भी अपने में रहती थी,
सबकी सुनती थी, सबको सुनाती थी,
साये के परिचय बिना सूक्ष्म अंतर स्तगित थी

zZZzzzZZZZzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZ.....

2007-09-28T09:38:00.000-07:00

Well, I had been lazy. I own it. But hardly ‘sleep all day’ is attributed to lethargy. There had been innumerable quotes on how sleep could mend things, boost spirits.

“ In hindsight, life is really a funny game,

And for a deserved break, sleep's the name.”

Yet, I have been troubled by it. Not by the lack of it, the excess of it. I had always believed dawn is the time when men of reason take to bed. Yet, infallibly these days (read after Kanpur), I am unable to resist the look of my bed. Neither have I been dumped nor have I been onto pills. Yet the sweet magic crawls into me, propelling me to close my eyes for as long as I could do. Even 11 hours (Excludes the short naps) at a stretch at night sees a tired me in morning. Well it is not what I am complaining about. It is just that I am curious. I heard sleeping habits are a true indicator to ones personality. Am I through a personality make-over?

Sleep is not merely “down time” between episodes of me being alive. Within the constitution we spend almost one third of our life in the necessary evil sleep. Is it a frameless mechanism? Metabolism, Anabolism and we might have another “Beddobolism” as a beacon. What really transpires? Some wake animated, whilst some look to finish the unfinished job. Then there are some who look worse for the sleep. It’s like quenching a thirsty with a drop – leaving him panting for more. Seems a devils day advocate is on duty. While some enjoy it ignorantly I wait my verdict with soporific and heavy eye lids.

Football or foOtbAlL?

2007-08-15T01:57:00.000-07:00

What do you crave more football or football or football? Hard choice don’t you say? The more you think about it the more you feel it seeping through your porous skin. With so many different sports, why as a religion do we love the pig skin so much? Is it really explicable?

It gives hopes, plenty of it, to square up with anyone. From a little known peddler you can stir up into the popularity ratings. But it sort of applies to people outside to this country. Still, the passion runs deep and never dries.

Football is as much about the beauty as much it is about pain. Maybe that propels us. With an injured ankle, few tablets and Relispray you take up the field for the sake of your little whim. The whim which promises exaltation! Maybe the hope of scoring a goal steers me or is it the acknowledgment of the team mates I crave for? “Sexy hai yaar…” that’s the quote you fumble across every now and then. Genuine appreciation whether be it your team mate or opposition. One game which makes me acknowledges the greatness of the other player almost unknowingly.

Is it for the real joy of running around with the pigskin? The grass, the emptiness of field, visage of the goalie? It certainly is not the only outlet of emotions. Even then it turns out to be the best proposition. The tackle, the cross over, step over runs wild in mind…. Is it the psychology which is running wild or am I longing for football? Football as a game comes first to me, even when I am not good at it by any stretch. Nor is it the only game which I tried hand in. I understand that I play other games a little better. Running around the ball, making up for lost opportunities is what I yearn for.

P.S. Still I can’t fathom why do I still prefer football ground to others? Pour in suggestions to make my life a little simpler.

Ssshhhhhhhhhhhh...........

2007-07-27T00:32:00.000-07:00

Well, nothing compares to the internet facility in our rooms (however slow it may be). Finally, stepping the usual profanities aside managed to gather energy to clean up my blog.

Setting: Padagaon , Khantapara

Well the locale might not arise many brows. The aforementioned place does deserve a place for the similes involving simplicity. Well, morons if you still haven’t got the place, it’s my village. The simplicity doesn’t come from the ignorance or being technologically ridden, it’s somehow inherent to the place. Well, the occasion this time was a marriage of a distant relative (Could not find other word to explain the tardiness of the complex relation). The atmosphere electric and the environ chattery. This was the moment the skies decided to open up, not to bless the lucky couple but to rain their vivaah into delay.

Most of you might be aware of the floods due to excessive rains in those parts of the country. Skipping through the merciless drops of thunder let me get into the real backdrop the narrative. Water gushed in left right left and in no time the ground floor was half immersed in water. It meant days of idle sitting, maybe weeks. But we kids choose to disagree. With the help of one of the servant we clamped a knot to the rod and went for the long wait. Yeah, you guessed it right our fishing net was on and shhhh…. Fishes do hear the vibrations.

Awn it went, the fishing expedition! The first catch was a prize “catla” about one and half kilos. The years of sitting in stealth seemed to wear off with that single catch. The kind of feeling surpassed any other (Believe me for I have been through a gamut of emotions). This marked the beginning of romance with nets and waiting silently. The flour was arranged for they were the best bait after earthworms. This followed two more prize catches, local species. The good water kept decent level for four more days and we had fun unlimited. The fishing then gave way to relentless feast on the guava trees. The big melons were quite sumptuous. Moving through the crevices breaking fences and chupke se eating made for a memorable week. Alas! Memories will serve me till destiny makes the next trip.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm.......

2007-04-17T05:27:00.000-07:00

Sometimes words fail you in spite of your urge to write something. Words have never been anyone’s slave, but my inability of picking a topic to write on made matters worse. Left with no choice, I commence.

Outside there was the usual hustle and bustle, inside was stirringly quite.

Outside there were the four directions whereas the inside was looking at the fifth direction.

It was dark and someone came around and sat besides me. In similar situations I would have been asked for a dance in the rain yet this time it was all different. Judging the gravity if it, it was decided to let the cries afloat once without the mask of rain.

Then, I staggered to look up and mumbled “I dunno…. Maybe….What if….” A series of incomprehensible nothings.

“You are no good”.

“Don’t let your brain and heart wreck”

“But something has to be done, can’t live on the shore of deserted island forever”

“Possibly the morrow has some better marks on the cards to free my brain”

“What about your heart?”

“Dunno, I am alright….”

“Lets keep arguing, maybe it will yield a result”

“How can talking possibly help in mending the wall?”

“Did that not let you in the hole?”

“But it was necessary….”

“It is necessary that you talk”

Suddenly a piece of crumpled paper in form of paper rocket blocked the vision.

“Even when crumpled to the last degree, this rocket never ceases to leak the joys while it traverses from one point to another. This worthless piece still finds no remembrance, the irony of fate!!!”

P.S It is the most incoherent a read as it ever gets to top it someone was pointing at the vocab prowess I presumably possess.

Zindagggiiiiii

2007-04-15T04:36:00.000-07:00

Un raaho mein paaya maine apne aap ko

Chiraag bhi kam they jahan roshni ke liye

Lau mili thi dil ke deeye se

Phir bhi anjaan thi nigaahein sacchai se

Siskiyon ne nirjeev kiya marm se,

Zindagi nammin hui geele kaagaz mein

koi jalata bhi nahin koi bahata bhi nahin,

is qadar hain akele rahaon mein dil ki,

koi bulata bhi nahi koi batlata bhi nahin

Auron ne toh kya Rangon ne bhi bewaafai ka saath diya !!!!

mAstErpIeCE

2007-04-15T02:01:00.000-07:00

The pic says it all.. Doesnt it??

BUNDLE OF CONTRADICTIONS!!

2007-04-06T05:06:00.000-07:00

Ever been in a situation where you curse and bless your present existence in same breath? Been in a position where you acquired a hell lot more than what you bargained for? I yearned for a little free time and I end up with the ocean of nothingness. Perhaps the only flaw in doing nothing is one doesn’t get to know when he is finished!

Nobody grudges earning a little “own-time”. Does this represent a reasoned judgement or merely foolishness, I wonder. Yet my mind reasons that “We may not be aware of the passing instants, but as we go on ceaselessly spending them, suddenly the term of life is on us”. Whereas my heart is adamant on the point that moments aren’t anymore passing they seem to have frozen. Well then am I to stare into oblivion with nothingness or completeness? Yes, I am reduced to a bundle of contradictions. Period.

I blink for umpteen number of times and frown at my helplessness. Claiming I miss football and badminton would be an understatement. Even the football videos have lost the sheen and I can’t possibly grasp why. The consoles of “GET WELL SOON” sound so acrimoniously acidic that I am prompted to retort as “It gives me immense pleasure in being crooked (physically)”. To couple up worries everyone suddenly seems all bustled up in daily chores that a neat dossier of chat is hard to come by. Yeah I am left to enjoy my vigil of loneliness!!!

Curved Or Hinged????

2007-04-02T00:57:00.000-07:00

BEND IT LIKE ME!!!!!

2007-04-01T10:30:00.000-07:00

The tackle, the roll over, the twisted finger and the day seemed to stop. Rushed forth was I to the doctor, the pain reaching unbearable limits. Alas! Some hopes are best hope hopen. I tottered to my feet, trying to mask up a cheery benignity but to see a queue of ‘patient-friends’ called for appalling empathy. To top it all the ‘doctor-saab’ was busy with someone else (non-patients). I concluded I can be the master of all situations, until I feel helpless at the hands of the irony. Then with the silhouette of a hound he pounced upon the injured finger. Perhaps I was too casual in thinking that I commanded tender caressing; but hounds can only be blood hounds. Bearing the initial damage I was left at the hands of a merciless assistant. Led me to the X ray room and asked me to lie down on a stretcher hardly 4 feet long. As if this didn’t go down as irksome, he too let his medical hand do some checking. If it weren’t for the friends by the side I had every suspicion of my foot being demolished instead of getting polished!!!! At least the timelyPJs of theirs were keeping date with history and a respite from the brutal all side attack.

Round one confirmed I had dislocated my finger and it needed to be straightened up. Dislocated seems to be a very qualitative term. Curving of finger by right angles might sound more quantitative. The doc in pretence of getting my attention got on and awn with his gibberish without any effect. Then some sarcastic comment relating DAIICT and NIFT attracted some chuckles. I then realised some people are better off being strung up by thumbs. To add to the all the crap, he banded (at least tried to link) my moaning in pain with the loss of Indian cricket team in world cup!!!!!

Round three saw me again cuddled up (read lying) in the stretcher, and vacuous light emitting machine pin pointing the various angles of the my cursed fingers. As if solacing the wounded soldier I got another x ray and this time without a slight glitch. God Bless!!

Well I staggered to my feet thinking it’s done for good when he sentenced me to thoughts claiming me to visit him after a week. God Bless me!!!

PARADOX!!!!

2007-02-06T00:58:00.001-08:00

After a lot of dilly-dallying the mind reconciled to the fact that the efforts did not deserve enough. Clarion call for New Year resolutions stems up from the veins and the eyes portray the burning desire to catapult back to normalcy. The dry leaf of hope this time around is buoyed by reason of mind. Marks had never been the litmus test for talent- I was a staunch disciple of the above statement. But when things go wrong when they are least expected to be more often than not, one really is bent to hope against hope. May be what I have been following was a utopia. Alas! Not all lovers live to romance in utopia.

Like the ripples in a pond the mind waves brought the leaf (reason) to the shore. If not the indicator it is probably the outlet to channel all the positive outbursts. Exams are perhaps the system to regulate sporadic nature to regular jinx. But then is it worth it??? Once in a blue moon cliché loses charm and life becomes the same old drab and mundane. Basically I am being a bundle of contradictions right now. After all sifting an equation to my favour is what I am trying when exams knock at the door a week away. This paradox may beat the Bertrand’s Paradox after all. Easy it may seem, but difficult to solve…Guys help!!!!!

TRIBUTE!!!!

2007-02-06T00:05:00.000-08:00

A collective sort of amnesia grips the whole of mankind together when a few colossi take field to redraw the lines of imagination. To an aesthete the milestones left as prints seem insignificant when compared to the ageless beauty, breathtaking conception and dazzling lyricism of art. These are far too few rare moments when sports relegate over the earthly pastures to the celestial realm. When these sportsmen decide to call it a day the whole of mankind is united in celebration of their achievements but tears are bound to flow uncontrolled.

The past year had seen many giants of their respective sports hanging their boots in the twilight of their career. Michael Schumacher,Martina Navaritilova, Andre Aggasi, Shane Warne, Zinedine Zidane, Glen Mcgrath would virtually flat the globe and mesmerise every spectator with the baffling range of geniuses and perfection. Like aging culture restorer, all of the aforementioned players revitalized the game with the inputs of their own and breathed life in the seemingly monotonous walk. Not that their skills are too alien to us but every time they conjured magic we were left spell bound with the timing of the magic wand.

A very few modern sportsmen may have found as much inspiration in the face of adversity, as much light when surrounded by darkness, as has Shane Warne. The man had seemingly inexhaustible source to surprise and belie his critics (if there were any). The only bowler in Wisden's Top Five cricketers of the 20th century speaks volumes. Bowling with pin point precision from the back of the hand was perhaps a lost art had it not been for Warne. Mental toughness, superlative skills and one pointed drive drove him past the lesser mortals to the pedestal of great. The “Gatting Ball” will be treasured and adored world wide till someone of Warne’s calibre doesn’t come by and stretch imagination. Despite being a ‘bit of lad’ he perennially took the centre stage in field for 13 long and demanding years. His geniuses were summoned for the semi finales and the finals where he wrecked havoc to the South Africans and Pakistanis. Yet there he left smiling and cunning at the same time.

Schumacher! These days when another Michael (Scofield) is taking to the heart of people this Mike is quietly enjoying his personal drive. But it hasn’t been long when the chequered flags awaited the whistle of his engine. The improbable vision of a cut through, the mental toughness of steel he had in him all the abilities to rise the world. As to prove Sherlock right, (the hereditary genes are more pronounced in elder sibling than in younger) he just took the bastion and kept moving without the fear of looking back as to who is following or not. Such has been his predominance. The world has certainly seen the best driver over the years to have adorned the tracks.

Martina and Aggasi!!! Like undying spirit these extra ordinary sportsmen kept reminding age can’t precede the love. They kept coming and bewilder us. Simple reason being the things we expect from the game played by youngsters is gracefully warded off by them with a tick of never say die attitude. At the twilight of career one can hardly put their money on them to chase each ball down. But these were people above average, even above good. They carved a niche for themselves in the heart of fans and the tennis court.

The stories of extra ordinary battle on field of these two protagonists will long be etched in memory.

Zinedine Zidane!! Head butt?? Is that what he will be remembered for??? May be I am hearing some emphatic no’s already. If someone’s game is termed parallel to the poets imagery it would be a sheer insult if he goes down in the annals of history as a tempestuous guy. With a ballerina’s shift the ruses of Zizou along with the cleverly chipped pass and duck of shimmy will go down as one of the best things to have happened to world football the last decade. His presence was not all about individualistic, he commanded respect and inspired players to shed indifferent form and come up with best. The law-breaking, convention-shattering instinct in superstars such as Zidane makes us admire his guile even at the sub conscious level.

Glen Mcgrath!! Perhaps a word has been coined to mean same as much as pin point accuracy. Talent!! Even talent as special as that possessed by Mcgrath — is a rather fragile thing. Hard work, Overs come and go by but the ball finds no other place to land on except where directed by ‘the PIGEON’.Yet, there he is, atop Mount Mcgrath, breathing in the rarefied air as if born to do it, and looking good to scale another big summit. As democratic as sport is at one level, at another it gloriously magnifies inequality. Just compare Mcgrath -clean, disciplined, hard working with the wayward, impetuous pace bowlers of his era…Well, forget it, there is no comparison.

WEEK IN GALLEY

2006-12-25T04:35:00.000-08:00

A week in Galley!!! That may sound as an exotic place to be holidaying into. As kismet would have it galley translates to kitchen. Well the week past saw me in kitchen rummaging through all possible nooks in my tryst with date. Now that Mom’s back from a bout I feel life had always not been prosaic. Reflecting back on the new assignment as Chef I guess life is not fair on everyone.

Day one saw me rolling into kitchen after a long lapse and head in jitters. The matter that I had become completely alien to the set up of the dabbas did not make choices easier either. Cruising on safe mode I decided to go on with ‘Khichdi’. Well the choice made began the Herculean task of being sure as to what box contained what. The awful grudging of boxes along with the whistle of cooker signalled the conclusion of noon. Though to my dismay found that the curry needed a tinge more of salt. Pooris in night made up for the eventful day. Well the beginning seemed all auspicious, but as days waned the work seemed to tax a lot. Realising that Mom’s carrying over this work over and out for so many days without loss of precision (McGrath will find himself rated less on this account of precision) made for a thoughtful pondering. Well the week saw me trying my hand at almost all the things some not so well and some decent.

Well the point I wanted to raise is we all have been taxing in our own little way. The work seemingly so easy to unfold gets monotonous after few days and to be drawn into it for days together needs real patience. I do feel blessed to be gorging on things made with such intricate details without twirling my head a bit. Is this not enough to make Moms the best thing to have happened to anyone’s life???

JUICE WAS WORTH THE SQUEEZE!!!!!!

2006-12-25T04:33:00.000-08:00

Sense of humour!! ‘A gripping pack of people who make light of a seemingly monotonous and flat tone’- is a telling commentary in taking delight in the mirthful. The other day when Mr Bush (Senior) joked about his son to the Prime Minister, I could not help myself from a quiet smile. The musings are not quite unwarranted. The company I find myself in never finds itself short on cheerfulness and the happy countenance masks the unmistakable differences. Every matter has an anti matter up and over in some other part of the universe and their chancing upon guarantees explosion, I perhaps can reconcile to the fact after being to DAIICT. Take a stroll through C wing, 1st floor and let me hear the echo.

It’s like an oasis of hope in the midst of desert of worldly woes and difficulties. Glass is never half empty it is always half full and meeting these people I couldn’t agree more. Its not like hilarious stuff for everyone, invariably someone bears the wrath. If someone claimed “My love is redder than Rose” it’s not highly unlikely that you find an arrow shot across phrased as “Mine is plastic rose eluding the worldly fusty musty rusty conditions”. Puncturing vanity and restoring sanity with aplomb is what these people are born with. Even the ordeals are worth the squeeze.

As this has been meant to be a memorabilia let me commemorate the protagonists of the plot. Central characters are portrayed by Professor and Pakoda. It gets tardy difficult to name a single person in main role. Let’s focus the reel to Pakoda, if you ever doubt the dictum that there’s a calm before the storm be sure to meet this guy. Just a single one liner suffices to cut anyone into shreds. Professor- blind follower of ‘Divide and Rule’ (When he is on mood) else if he is on song then hardly time can stand a testimony as it tickles by without a clue. Now the turn of Bouncer Bhai and John g. Even with the memento-mori hanging from his chin he will be exclaiming Abhi tho bahut time hai. John g! Perhaps no one can soak more, born with jocular vein he becomes the butt of most of the jokes. Not to forget the tag load of names he carries with him. Chubbi and Gol wind up the team with the inclusion of non regular Gulu. Chubbi to his credit finds a lethal weapon in form of his roommate, even though that doesn’t make him quite a PJ master. Gol will always be remembered for his encounters with Pakoda. The powder fight, the bottle crush will long be etched in memory. Gulu Ghalib the included non insider makes up for one of the best things to have happened to me. Well to think of it THE JUICE WAS REALLY WORTH THE SQUEEZE!!!

Etched Memories!!!!!!

2006-09-27T11:44:00.000-07:00

In this light of darkness we roam in the silence sound of heart beats lamenting our lot. The loneliness is still lingering, but its getting difficult tune to dance to. Is that not the question many of us asked ourselves at some point in time??? Nobody chose seclusion for vanity. In this modern march we meekly gave in to the society pressure. So guarded we have become that chancing upon friends induces a mono syllable. Like ships that pass in night and speak each other in crank signals we passed each other. Only a look and a voice and then the darkness and silence eclipsed. Are we so busy?? Busy even to entertain even our own thoughts!!! Or spying eyes or prying ears reduced the human content in us???I mean if it chances and fates our way to be together for few days we crib to find that he’s probably the kind of guy I wished to be friends with. All ends up well. If we are not destined to interact who is to blame for neither of us took the chance???

As it happened and perhaps a welcome chance I found myself on a rural internship with relatively strange guys. As time tickled we learnt to play cards together, laugh together and while time together. Decoded each others signals, learnt to lend shoulders in need. As if many fast travelling stars collided at the end of the universe to raise a new earth, the place of friends, and the place to lead life in. Can’t assure for sure what impact it had on me but it etched in memory. The pictures in the window of life will vividly flash around from time to time reminding of the happier pastures and the time bygone. Somewhere down in the feelings heart pitter pats as to what would have the days if this was fated otherwise. Are we to blame or the fate if it was otherwise??? Does the end result not warrants a chance???

MAHABHARATA : AN UNPREJUDICED VIEW....

2006-09-16T14:02:00.000-07:00

Mahabharata! The epic. The hymns scream out the angelic morals. But somehow, somewhere deep in the unconscious mind we have an apprehension about the Pandavas being the so called saviours and crusaders of goodliness. Ever wondered why Kauravas were left at the receiving end all these centuries? One finds himself at bay choosing upon the just side on an impartial and unprejudiced read. It has always been the Pandavas who have been heaped praises for their valour and righteousness. But beneath lays some serious misgivings which points to foul play and injustice being stamped for years. It rather sounds paradoxically absurd trying to shift an age old maxim in favour of Suyodhana. For those surprised brows, Suyodhana was the eldest son of Dhrutrastra, the hereditary king. “Suyodhana”:- A warrior par excellence; a protector of rightful war practices. A man denied of his title for centuries which was so dear to him that he lost his life safeguarding it. Ever conjectured why he had to bear the brunt of Pandavas wrath? Surely answer comes in a gasp “The evils deserve hell”. RECONSIDER. With the type of upbringing we have, our mind and heart always laments the Kauravas. But let’s take a stock of the situation and give them their due respectfully. To begin with Dhrutrastra was the legitimate heir to the throne. But as luck would have it, being blind, the state was turned over to Pandu. Now the question arises “Who legally inherits the throne?” Though a tough nut to crack, the benefit of the doubt should have been ruled in Kauravas favour. Even otherwise, it would have taken little for the Pandavas to appreciate the folly of the situation. They choose to brag instead. Now let’s move the frame to Draupadi’s “swayambara”. Many may recollect that it was Karna who should have the first legitimate shot at the fish. But he was booed out for not being a Kshatriya. No prizes for guessing the invisible hand behind this act. It was a well established fact by then that Karna could defeat Arjun offhandedly. Well its worth mentioning that Karna was proclaimed to be the king of Angh Pradesh by Suyodhana. That’s what Suyodhana was for you. And what did Pandavas do on the eve of their brother’s marriage? Divide her for all of them! Well someone forgot that they were preachers. Scene: Hastinapur. All were invited for the showcase the Pandavas put in for their palace. Shakuni and Suyodhana both were ridiculed off for humane errors. Guess who joined in the act. Draupadi and her peers almost went to the point of stripping their humility. For a Kshatriya, to gulp down his own insult takes some beating. It all culminated in the game of PASHA. Many say it was unfair that Shakuni played the game. But nobody ever tried to stop him. He never played his hand hiding. Now, Yudhistira was asked to play, not to bet all. Alas! It was rather too simple a way out from troubles. It was left to Yudhistira to play his hand and like a sober man he should have kept a sight at his limits. Yet this great man put his wife Draupadi on line. Surely, this was the height of everything else what could possibly be thought off. Let’s roll the reel to the battlefield. Whether be it Pitamah Bheesma or Dronacharya, both were asked to play a biased hand. Ultimately they bowed out failing to play a one sided affair. So was this the so called bravery and valour of the Pandavas? Memories of Eklavya resurface without saying, who sacrificed himself for Arjun. The pitfalls of foul play bubbled throughout the war. Karna was made to donate his armour; even then it required Arjun to take aim at a weaponless man. If this was the strategy, it compelled them even lower to kill Jayadratha. Spiteful act! As if banging the last nail in the coffin, Bhima himself took aim at Suyodhana’s leg whilst in a match of clubs. Suyodhana accepted the match but never indulged in foul play fully conversant with the fact that Bhima had the cutting edge over him in a battle of clubs. Thus, he died leaving behind the true fighting spirit he had. What was he rewarded with? Duryodhana? Though lost, Suyodhana never lamented his lot. He saw himself being called Duryodhana whilst seeing Pitamah Bheesma, Dronacharya, Karna die. Thus, lain is a Mahabharata from Suyodhana’s eyes. Maybe what he deserves is an impartial, unbiased and unprejudiced read. Let us give him his due.

FRIEND.......

2006-09-16T13:58:00.000-07:00

In bustling race of time we often rejoices in solitudes the scales and down rides of the time spent in the company of friends. More often than not tears roll out rather than smiles wrinkling. Dedicated to one of those one off moments.

Dripping down my helpless face,
Those million drops of heart ways,
Singing a poignant song that claims,

“Oh! My peer show me your face”
That lights the world with infinite grace.
And as they splash onto the ground,
They cry with grief profound.

‘Oh Friend! You still remain unfound’
The sobs continue to trickle down my cheek
Making me feel lost and meek
As millions of me continue to die
Prepared to mislay without a din,
Mayst a tear pray for win.

E"spy"onage (STORY)

2006-09-16T13:57:00.000-07:00

On a quiet sunny afternoon, when the determined chins of the two young potential spies, was glistening with sweat, they had their task cut out. James and Melinda (two of the select, elite and lucky few to have received training under Captain Mike) were on the threshold of their dreams. The most intricate details of the covert world were imparted to them under the surveillance of the legendary Mike Martin.

"Melly, Remember never be precipitant in your actions." With this Captain Mike activated a bomb. "See, this bomb presents you 5 seconds of grace time. Utilize these. Never hasten. At 4th second Captain Mike, with a flick of his wrists let the dynamite go. A stream of water with a booming sound was what it resulted.

Captain Mike! Mike! This was Captain Andrassy who blurted out these words. Panting, as he was, it was impossible to make out what he was trying to reciprocate. After getting his composure back he said "Our topmost agent has been found dead today morning in his apartment and to complicate matters further up we have just now received a cipher, which he wrote presumably before his death". We are at a loss of ideas. Would you care to have a look???

Melly, James your espionage has started. Visit the place; observe every minute detail and turn over your reports to me in the evening .In the meantime let me see this cipher. Good luck.

Captain Mike was sure that these two would unravel the mystery revolving around the death. Unorthodoxy is what they adopt quite freely rather than the tedious orthodox method always. James always had a flat foot on the facts, the practical nuances associated with it whereas Melinda was amazingly quick in her uptake without taking least pains on the sundry details. It was courage and cheerfulness where they were never found wanting.
That's why they formed such a lethal combination.

On entering the room, both had a careful look of the room, searched for footprints Alas! Some criminals don't leave that. Excited as they were, both started off into their respective works.

James questioned the policeman at the beat about the exact positions of the things as first seen. He told him that all the doors and windows were locked barring one which was slightly open (not large enough for a snake to slide through). James asked him about his opinion on the case. The policeman with a cunning smile said "You don't expect a man to lock himself from outside, he himself being inside and getting killed". This is preposterous and it really beats me off. Something in his tone caught James ear. He began to brood over the problem. Finally with a triumphant ringing voice he said to himself "What villainy" "It has to be that, what else?"

Meanwhile, Melinda was feasting herself on the weird looking water spots spread throughout the walls of the room. It had been raining incessantly for last three days so such a thing was natural. But Melly's gaze was fixed on one spot. It was a dry patch in the wall. "How could the whole of the wall be soaked in water and this small part remain dry"? This was the question which she engaged herself in. By the end of the hour she also had seen the dawn of hope and intuitively assumed it to be correct.

They returned back to report to Captain Mike .After listening to them he asked James "how do you think that guy would have the key in his pocket?" James obligingly ventured to answer. "Sir, it is obvious that it was not he who locked himself from outside .So it has to be the murderer. I think by some means the key was put back in his pocket. I guess it has been done through the thread because I found many frayed string ends scattered on the floor. Presumably he might have fixed a small load to the string and put it into the dead man's pocket, keeping the other end at the window. After locking the door from outside he might have slipped the key from the string into his pocket.

Melinda: - I think I can picturise the whole scenario. The dry place there can mean only one thing, that the other part of the wall had not received rain which in turn points to a drainpipe or sorts. I think the murderer suspected this man, so he waited there while he was outside. He killed him and went off no one being wiser about his identity.

Captain Mike: - I think you both have hit the truth. Now I suppose it's my turn to tell you something about the formidable protagonist you are up to. I don't expect you to work without the full possession of the facts. "This man was our main informer from Wayne's office." He had helped us to prevent many crimes. Reverting to Wayne; he is the lynch pin on which the crime world hangs. He is like a spider, who webs his net slowly around the victim's neck. Assaults, murders, kidnaps everything is done by him. Just a word is passed to him and he arranges for the results. It is this antagonist we are after.

By the way, let me see if you can crack this cipher, which was causing problems in the office:--
VEAK YILRPX

Captain Mike:

VEAK YILRPX ::

"This cipher is quite a departure from his usual doubly encrypted ones. I can read this as easily as I read my palms. Luck is what we spies always envy. But it seems for once, we are on the vantage. Fortunately, we are now aware of the identity of the person whom they are targeting. This is one the most elementary ways to decode a cipher - just shift each letter right or left keeping certain rules in mind. At least here he had the sagacity to progressively increase the common difference of the two consecutive letters. V had been obtained on two right shifts so S was what he intended to convey. Similarly E was the outcome of transferring three letters so A must have been the original alphabet." Deciphering the cipher in the light of the above rubric the cipher spells out -

"SAVE RACHEL"

"It is Rachel, the great actress they are after. But what beats me is how such a dainty figure is associated with crime. I didn't expect Wayne's escapades to stretch to this part of the world. Oh God! Save the world from his clutches.

"Melie, you have to undertake the job of a governess there. It is the one position that will suit you admirably. A character-certifying letter will be arranged for you from the Countess of Poffosky. It will pertain to your work experience with her as a caretaker of her children.

"James you need not drop in there as an outsider. Utilize your acquaintance with Rachel's brother to secure a place as a friend. This Saturday is when I expect matters to come to a head. Until then try to secure your places and keep a strict vigil on the place. We can't launch this in the official format because of Rachel's strong dislike for the regular police force. Once upon a time she had to lose her parents forever due to the negligence of a cruel hearted officer. So you are on our own now. I can't help you in public; you have to remain clear of prying ears and spying eyes."

Rachel. The word had become a synonym for beauty. Her exquisite slimness was what other damsels envied. The well proportioned body to carry with that would have made any poet go crazy over the foolscap. Once you see the eyes, so feminine, so expressive, you get mesmerized and sense a new world forgetting everything else.

Captain Mike had predicted that the mystery would unfold on the Saturday, a day on which Rachel had thrown a party at her grand house. Everything till the weekend passed awfully well for both Melie and James. They won over the confidence of the household with their cheery attitude. The guests for the party consisted of Rachel's lawyer, financier of the movie, her pen pal and a few distinguished personalities of the city. Saturday was no exception to any other; it was only Captain Mike and co. who sensed the looming air heavy with expectancy.

The party unfolded quite well. But all of a sudden, at about midnight, a bullet sprang out from nowhere and just missed Rachel. At this sudden shock, she fainted. Everybody gathered around Rachel and helped her to her bedroom.

The only matter worth pondering on was that the whole room was inaccessible from outside but still a bullet managed to infiltrate in!!

Next day Melinda and James report it to Mike. Mike's expressionless face, his farsighted looks made both the young detectives stand in awe. Mike advised them, "Soak in everything letting the minimum possible out. Never show your course of action for you never know who your adversary is." Mike introduces them to a man sitting in the taxi. "He is monsieur Fabien. The greatest ever detective the French Surete had. They never desist in talking about his achievements. We are lucky to have him as our companion in this case."

"Hello, Mademoiselle, I'm quite delighted to meet you. I always held the opinion that it takes an amateur's bubbly enthusiasm and energy and a professional's tact to bulldoze a formidable foe. I am on the trail of my life now. I fervently hope that all my past glory will be outshone by the glow of success I will receive in this case." He enumerates some of his close encounters with Wayne. Once, he had every passenger in a plane checked up twice, all luggage thoroughly searched but still Wayne evaded his clutches, in the disguise of the pilot of the plane. This was the closest he had ever come in terms of catching him. "This incident pricked me as if he had spat on my face. Take my word for it that we French hold these as a blot on our souls. I am here because I am on sure grounds that he his here in desire of the world famous carbuncles her parents had. This was the place which her parents had as their last abode. Probably, they were killed for the diamonds too. Mike, don't be so surprised. You will receive the full facts tomorrow. Till then, let me have a look at the little mystery revolving around that shot."

When Melie and James were within few paces of Rachel's house they saw a suitcase being flung out of a taxi. Fabien with a triumphant look in his face was coming over towards them. "Hey guys, see this is Monsieur Fritz's attache (lawyer)." With his deft fingers he began to work his way through the suitcase. Therein lay the revolver, which had caused the hullabaloo the previous night. Fabien argued it was only Fritz who had the knowledge of the diamonds. Probably he wanted to get rid of her to claim them legally. And it may not be a far-fetched assumption to believe that he is in close hands with Wayne. Melie got swayed by his talks but somehow James picked up a strong dislike towards this French detective. Suddenly he realized that somebody was trying to hold a sneeze. Tip-toed he went behind the bushes and discovered that it was Bob (pen pal).

This had channelised his brain in a different direction. Bob left them with a tame excuse. This swept James mind to a different direction, more monstrous than the first one.

Unanimously they conjectured to rummage the whole place through in look out for the diamonds. Melie took off for the servant's quarter. James asked for the secret panels, cellars to Rachel's brother. In one of the closed cellars he found a soiled paper with an address on it. While emerging out of the cellar he met Rachel; who with a careless air put forth. "What's the matter? It seems there has been a positive boom for the secret places today. Just now I had been through this place with Bob. Are you thinking that the gun or for that matter the murderer to be found here???"

James went off on his lonely vigil towards that place pointed by the address. It was one of the dilapidated outhouses in an obscure place. With a delighted heart longing for some action he entered the room. Alas! Wayne's comrades were a bit weak in that part. Having Wayne's mates in his mercy he decided to ransack the place. On the top floor he saw a man gagged and lying down. At the moment he heard a grin from his back. Feeling the cold muzzle of the automatic in his temple James ventured to look back. It was Bob!

The day next, to everyone's surprise, they got an invitation for another party at Rachel's house. Rachel's brother on James's express demand had thrown a party, with an instruction that all who attended the last one were invited.

James and Melinda took the centre stage and explained their real purport of being there. Melie went on that eventful day when a murder was averted it was none present here who discharged the bullet. It is this watch; see it sideways it has the provision for the cuckoo to spring out every hour to twitter. But that night it was loaded with a pistol and at midnight it fired off and the vociferous twittering of this cuckoo negated the sound.

James who until now assumed an innocent look began with his usual suave fashion. "Once I had recognized Bob as a Scotland Yardie, the sailing was smooth. Now let me introduce you to the real Monsieur Fabien from Surete". Lo and Behold! It was the same person who was lying in that dilapidated house. The whole story became crystal clear to everybody.

James discreetly avoided further questions. Finally he held a card which, he was sure, would confound Captain Mike himself. "Sir, we presume that you had never seen your agent in Wayne's office due to his extracting confidence from you for that extent." Mike with a stunned look said "No, why? What's the matter?"

James dryly said "Sir, this is the notebook we found in Wayne's pocket when we arrested him. Care to take a look." "THERE WAS NEVER ANY AGENT. IT WAS HE WHO WROTE THE MESSAGES."

"These policemen believe their job is just to crack ciphers and some minor crimes. It is really saddening to know that they are ignorant of such huge crimes taking place when their mind is focused on petty things".

Trinity Of Soccer....

2006-09-16T13:39:00.000-07:00

THE TRINITY OF SOCCER

Within the span of three world cup games in 1986, one Diego Maradonna of Argentina booked his place at the summit alongside the legendary Pele. As the 18^th edition of the world cup finals heads for a thrilling finish, football’s hallowed duo could become a trinity. The prodigious Zizou surely can claim a spot at the league which treaded a line between good and great.

Glimpses of what Zidane can do with the ball were on show against Brazil. The exit of Brazil for once was unworthy of tears. It was Zizou and his men who played more Brazilian soccer than his counterparts. The music the menace was all there which baffled the Brazilian matadors. Hidden behind the lean face of the Mohican of this decade was the catalyst for the buoyant French team, even when his final bells were tended to be over hit. He mustered the sublime touch, game vision, and creative imagination which was feared lost to orchestrate the systematic throttle of Spain. His show was not all about showboating individualistic; rather it was a kick on for players like terrific Henry to shed their indifferent form. The aging artist raised his game, his youthful peers could dream of, to lead from the front setting examples.

His skills are not alien to us but every time he conjures magic we are left spellbound, for he makes us believe how absurd playing football can be. With a ballerina’s shift he ensures the ball lands gently kissing his feet. As if on a spinning top he ruses gracefully evading the tackles. His pirouettes leaves opponents confronting thin air in awed appreciation filled with jealousy. One can imagine the pressure his strolls put on the defenders. Even walking on water he makes light of the situation making mockery of the opponent’s strategy with consummate ease as he manages a great ball for the on rushers.

A sort of collective amnesia strikes mankind and even though trying to hate Zidane they end up praising the sheer genius of his even at the sub conscious level. Zidane is a connoisseur’s delight since style of performance has counted something. Football is all about the flair, the invention, the beauty and the aesthetic appeal and Zidane’s game screams out loud these virtues. With every twist and shimmy, every duck of the shoulder and cleverly chipped pass, he orchestrated the magical moment in Euro Cup 2000. These were the all too rare moments when sport relegates above the normal earthly pastures to the realm of celestial.

Though this world cup boasted of so many superstars the real stars could surely be counted in the fingers of a hand excluding the goalkeepers. This world cup had flattened the globe for once as day or night seemed to be of little consequence. The finals cried for a star like Zidane to adorn the cup. How incredible has been this resurrection, for aging athletes do not abruptly reassume their powers. To top it the entire feat was conjured after he had hung up his boots propounding the fading skills. How ironic, for like an aging culture restorer he revitalized himself to stage football as the greatest game ever. The virtuoso performance by him will be long etched in the memory as the stage is being set to adieu the game’s one of the most celebrated player.

Surely, many will agree with me that the celebrated duo of the football fraternity awaits a worthy campaigner. Let Zizou wreck havoc in last of his few matches; let Zizou get a farewell befitting his work. Infallibly, Zizou can be put at the top of the pedestal alongside the likes of Pele and Maradonna.

P.S. This article was written before the semifinals.

Days of Adoloscence......

2006-09-16T13:35:00.000-07:00

Buried deep in life’s saunter,

The sweet age of toys barter,

Lost forever in a strange ferver,

As in an ocean loseth a river.

Left though the Midas touch forever.

Ah, the days of adolescence!

As noiselessly as a lingering thought,

Recollecting many a fights fought,

Tantrums of ousted at nought,

Unnoticed cropped a smile wrought.

Ease from melancholy it brought.

Ah, the days of adolescence!

Lending ears to tales of incredible essence,

Off I went to gross with patience,

Fellows of Milky Way in innocence.

Consigned a tree climbing offence,

Remorse though was lost on pretence.

Ah, the days of adolescence!

Swooping paper rockets leaked mirth borrow,

As jolly ships skimmed through the sorrow,

Seldom had I envisaged a life so narrow,

As bliss betided, eclipsed barrow.

Ah, the days of adolescence!

The rain strew love a thousand mote,

Cherishing a split never did I note,

Boyhood not for eternity I realised rote.

Is this the future for which we ever vote?

This feeling kinda ogled out from veins after refreshing through a old photo album..Really fun filled were the days of sunshine.