Arriving Somwhere But Not Here

As I see a cloud of smoke , or were the clouds smoking …coz not only do I palpate a grappling clasp ….i find it hard to breathe as well.

Its like as if there were a magical fountain sending frail plumes of clouds against the cascade hanging from above .It was dowsing the evening sun; folding it into the lotus of its love or fantasy as you may name it or tickling the burlesque of the moon.

Im not sure what to call the hazy orange being atop a distant rugged hill.

Havent I closed my eyes in the last 100 hours ; where am I ?

Or were they closed the whole time ; where am I ?

As faint glimmers make me take another glance at the orange figure ; its no more there.Its been obscured by the brooding drifts of the clouds.Clutched? EMBRACED?

I think it has gone to sleep , comforted itself in the slowly descending blanket of the atmosphere;late evening chills of December in plateaus of India,abandoned as they stand.

But I see farm lands too and clusters of habitation suddenly.

Sheep wearing woolen jackets ; not of their own. Numb trees,sometimes near sometimes far,screaming in solitude. Then there are intermittent flashes of a hopeful light.

A hoot of a horn ,rumbling wheels , a tainting perturbation to the serenity.

But where are the birds ; or has the emptiness dumbed me to their chirp.

But why should my vision be clouded?

Was I dreaming the whole time ?

They said he was good,an angel.

They said he was great,extraordinary.

They said he was different,weird.

They said he was crumbling,mellowing.

But he was vunerable ; human.

Im Anurag ,and im coming home.

Its been a long outing ; my sinews whisper of the stories.

But who am I ? What is my home ?

ARRIVING SOMWHERE BUT NOT HERE

Did you see the red mist block your path?
Did the scissors cut a way to your heart?

An Old Scar

I have this old scar on my left cheek. I don't get to see it often so it doesn't bother me. Not many

people have seen it either, but I know it's there. If you look hard, it's visible, but again, it doesn't

bother me, and trying to hide it would prove to be a waste of time. Like many scars, mine has a

story to tell.

My scar reminds me I was once young and naive. I was once fearless. I did not heed my

mother's warning. Yes, I grabbed the cord, and then I pulled it. You see, I was but a child.

Innocent. Curious. It was an attractive nuisance, this cord - long and dark. I was curious to

know where or what it would lead me to. That it was attached to a hot iron was a surprise to me,

more like a shock.

The burn was so deep, I felt no pain at first. At least that is how the story is explained to me. I

was rushed to the hospital, and returned home all patched up. A woman laughed at my injury as

I was taken out of the ambulance.The ambulance escorted this woman back to the hospital.

Then the burn started to blister. Oh, the pain was unbearable. I think. Time was our enemy, the

burn's and mine.

Oh, how we hated time. Then it became our friend. The burn was forgotten, replaced.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant,

gorgeous, handsome, talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking

so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us.

It is not just in some; it is in everyone.

And, as we let our own light shine, we consciously give

other people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our fear,

our presence automatically liberates others.

Why do we do a constant self-appraisal ?

Does it ameliorate us or desecrates what we could have been ?

Why do we try to hide in the fear of abashment or of derision by others ?

Why do we try to find a shelter in remorse ?

On a whim i could try applying concealers, compressed powders, foundations and creams and

then liquid concealer and another layer of foundation . but then i apprehended that it made it

cakey and required a constant touch up.I would be always be afraid lest the make up give way .

Will the masquerading techniques aggrandize our disposition ?

I would rather have it accentuate the face ; its unrealistic to be insanely perfect .

My semblance is self-reflection.

I never concealed my scar ; whats ironical is the fact that hardly any one noticed it; and thsoe

who did never tried to pry or gaped at it and i am the one who actually wants them to .

Coz its not bout the scar anymore ; its not bout how i got it.

Its bout how it got healed.I have a story to tell. What healed it ; who healed it .

I have this old scar. It reminds me my burn has healed.

Do you have a scar? Physical? Emotional? What's the story behind it?

Sparkling Roman Candles; The Light of Diwali

You Come....

with eyes sparkling and smile scintillating

with voice lilting and long tresses mellowing

you come… my lady; all dressed...and tickle my senses

With robe beautifying and fabric fascinating

with drapery stupefying and the look mesmerizing

you come, my lady;dresses like that… and tickle my senses

With flesh gleaming and curves captivating

with folds melting; themselves surrendering

you come.. my lady .. and tickle my senses..

Rhapsody From Twilight Zone

They may talk of a comet, or a burning mountain, or some such bagatelle; but to me its her, dressed out in all her finery, being the most tremendous object of the whole creation.

I feel a stroke of freshness

like morning dew

I sense blooming viridity

ready to unruffle

What i love most is the fact that it is so natural,without a blemish.

She steps right out of he fairy tale ; coz she looks too good to be true and she glows like an angel .Im the sun and she is the moon .As she spreads glittering rays of sensuality I stand captivated in its luster.She has smile like a rainbow after the rainy day ; touching the heart with eternal joy that takes all pain away.

The curly hair caress her glistening shoulders ; or the way her soft hands gleam ; The perfectly shaped eyebrows leading to the slender nose ; or the way those lips lead to the tenderness of her cushy cheeks (now thats a self-coined term ); The fabric submitting itself ; adorning itself with her charm and the warmth of her pulchritude romancing the air around her.The jewelery's shine undermined by hers

Why do you make me feel

Everytime im near you

My head is like a spinning wheel

When i gaze into your eyes

Im blinded by the passion

I feel that's deep inside

Why are you so beautiful.

I had always loved beautiful and artistic things though before seeing you ; i had hardly seen any .” Beauty is an ecstasy; it is simple . There is really nothing to be said about it. It is like the perfume of a rose: you can smell it and that is all.” You are splendidly sublime like anything ; like a whisper and a breeze you were gone ; like everything the heart could would sing.

When violet eyes get brighter

And heavy wings grow lighter

I'll taste the sky and feel alive again.

Color of the diamond is her composure

Cut of the diamond is her cuteness.

You come..

with eyes sparkling and smile scintillating

with voice lilting and long tresses mellowing

you come… my lady… .. and tickle my senses

With robe beautifying and fabric fascinating

with drapery stupefying and the look mesmerizing

you come, my lady… and tickle my senses

With flesh gleaming and curves captivating

with folds melting; themselves surrendering

you come.. my lady .. and tickle my sense..

“The moment my eyes fell on her, I was content."

Pep Talk

Date:
JUNE 8 ,2010


Zulu : can it happen at the age of 21? ( just 2 sound more mellow)


Dad: (turns suddenly around; smirks ..contemplates a trifle )...hmm ,I got married at ur age ; so u tell me ! Im confident that u aren peurile either if u are approaching your dad for all this .


Zulu:I have a hunch.


Dad: Bt when did Zulu grow up so big; where was i ,when all this happened ?


Zulu: Well, u never talked dad .Probably we both didnt....nt used to affectionating or rather kept busy .Bt if it comforts u ,its nt been tht long so u didnt miss much .


Dad: Alluring sweet talk ,(smiles) no doubt i hear u are a huge hit .(grins)


Zulu : Our trysts have been limited bt i hve taken after all the little things that u taught me everytime ; u hve been a good father ;for 20 years atleast :D


Dad: Oh the flattering better continue coz as i see the route u are takin ; ull require me; since u r so vehemently enroute spoilin ur mother's plans of findin u the girl ; an idea she is so in love with !


Zulu : i shall take care of her choices :D


Dad: well; im nt sure if im d right person 2 approach. Things in relationships have changed son ;

lemme cite a very casual example .....lets just say for instance the women will nt dress up for u ; mom btw still does;bt i see a lot of changes around .Different from what uve learnt maybe .


Zulu: Bt im a blunderbuss.


Dad: My fault probably; we are the ones who made you.But things are different now ; ur lady wd care bout public opinion too not just yours.


Zulu : Bt i wd care bout just hers ; thts wht ive seen u doing for 25 yrs ....thts wht mom's been doing for 25 yrs.For me love wd mean so ....


Dad: ( the cough at the mention of d word ) U hve 2 then accept it ;thr wd b other guys around her ; her frns etc...then there wd b girly rivalries ....these are the trends ; u see ur sis doing it don u !


Zulu : Sis; as if i wanna follow up into her mess ! ;And i might be devout but not delirious but still I beg to differ sir ...i go by the definition and d definition hasnt changed over d years then so musnt the other things. hence they term me snobbish .....


Dad: i fear , that stand is too vunerable ,,,,,where is this coming from in the first place .A bigotry attempt leading to a precipice.The too principled concept ;the being too good that might hurt you.


zulu : I wonder why r u taeching me different lessons when in the first place u taught me to be so ....it wd never b easy.....wht do u fear dad ? ur lessons or my learning ?


Dad : So u still believe the 100 souls story.


Zulu : Adherence ; close one ; to every single word that has come up in these few conversations between us .


Dad : Whts ur score ?


Zulu : " Change lives; make them meaninful.Drive away anguish,pain and despair.of fear.One hundred souls before u r done ".27 dad; 73 more to go .


Dad : U still keep notes ? (laughs) My score was around 40 by ur age .It becomes more difficult when u become older.N u r already lagging behind me .


Zulu : 6 more months before i turn 21 brother; dnt u count me out

They will call me freedom .

(as i begin 2 plan a delusive exit.....................)


Dad: whats d name of d girl ?


Zulu : (chuckle) Dont get too excited,I was just talking. Btw, She's got many.

Had To Make It

(As I (Arushi) do the honour of publishing this post for Anurag ,I might as well do some good to him by mentioning that this retard writes all his posts on paper ; then types it and then publishes on his blog and yet makes innumerable spelling errors and ofcourse the punctuations are never there.He calls it his style;whatever! )

So Anurag speaks’’’’’

Snub the brouhaha

Somehow every thing has some good in it ; or else you must find it .

For I managed to better my own record of sleeping for hours on a stretch; I improved it 3 times;The previous best was 17 which I set ( like bread on butter) to beat Arvind Hoskote and Vasu Sharma; Its now stands 51 hours straight fellas’ ,better meet an accident anytime soon; coz this is war and everything counts .

And whilst my eyes were closed I could see the world better than ever before . As I fought my duel and people speculated and consternations ran ripe as to whether I was going to make it or not I realized that............

I still had to be the invincible foodie to beat Amish Tambi.

I still had to prove how useless Ankitash is and yet make myself reach new levels of fecklessness.

I still had to bring Divyanshu’s deceit to light and show that he actually doesn’t know how to play the guitar or that I played better than him and more proficient at expletives for that purpose.

I still had to show that Vidhi is nothing but a charlatan and that flimsy and paltry are nothing but she personified.

I still have to make Akshat ‘pay’ for all the time spent in the bed.

I still had to beat Manka at who sleeps first contest and show her that (presumably) reserved and the rebellions were paralleled .

I still have to court-martial Harsha signifying her worthlessness to the planet or my impediment equivalently.

I still had catapult a change in Adwait’s music collection and overthrow him to take the charge of the production house.

I still had to prove to Parvesh that I can hold a conversation in hindi; and that I never stole his girlfriend and I still have to prove that I am more decent than Keshav and bring to ground his nerdy glory;

I still had to see Sachin odiously condescend before me so that I could finally absolve him .

I still had to win a bicker with Anukriti over a who’s got the frailer physique.

I still have to clarify to Gaurav that Dudism at display aint a pretence at all’ and its better than whatever he is atleast.

I still have to beat Arpit in an argument for once not to mention how pathetic Dada is;

I still have to bring to light Arvind’s hypocrisy and all his irrational ideologies.

I still have to kill Minu by throwing her off a ride for her plagued enimosity.

I still have to make Anirudh overcome his fanatic beliefs and to bring his overtly graceful feign into picture.

I still have to show to Neha that I am not a super nerd or rather still conceptualize innumerable rendezvous.

I still have to potray Devansh's worthless acting in another movie of mine.Not to mention , actually listen to one of his lectures !

I still had to take Arushi away from Sam and prove to both of them that I can do the impossible. Not to mention sweep her off her feat in a jazz or a salsa much better than Sam.

I still have to sing a song in a voice more hearse than Gautam and that no matter how many Gym sessions he goes to I will beat the hell out of him in every battle ( Mund Battle) .

I still have to tell the world that Vasu’s spot in dance club over me is just because the ‘two’ girls( one of them once mine) fancied him a little more or maybe its just the ‘Josh’; and to him and Gaurav that its me who won the Pav-bhaji contest afterall.

And well And ;;;; I still have to turn Ishita from a shop-a-holic into a shop-a-repellent and to drown her in a swimming pool ; not to mention then to take her out of that pool and re-kill her with a coffee overdose and then bury her in a pile of cockroaches;

How then my friends could have I not made it for your sake ; how then my dear could I have gone back on my promises ; how then could I have gone without making that smile as my own forever.

And in the face of adversity ;;;;aah crap who wants to hear that;;;

Well with so many battles to be won ; with so many myths to be busted how could have I not made it .

I had to make it for you and I had to make it for “YOU”.

Happy Birthday

And I can't explain

But it's something about the way you look tonight

Takes my breath away

It's that feeling I get about you, deep inside

And I can't describe

But it's something about the way you look tonight

Takes my breath away

The way you look tonight

If u are a girl, u wd envy this pic ;if an intelligent one you could idoltarize it.

Coz all the guys out there can nothing but revere it.

and overtly she smiled,

hathen me beguiled .

the perspicouous emotions,

blindeth all notions .

tangible was her allure ,

so lucid , so pure .

I would defy the spirit called an artist if i were not to pen down such a pristine form of art.

Though when it comes to things a little too close to my heart I havent been able to justify

them befittingly. Though yet again , I couldnot control the insatiable urge.

Birds singing a song

Old paint is peeling

This is that fresh

That fresh feeling.

Words can't be that strong

My heart is reeling

This is that fresh

That fresh feeling

I could have given her only a Gucci Twirl , one that i have handpicked or a La Femme gown

to match her colorful moods , that has caught my attention .But i shall not only carry the

tradition forward, but also live by the faith that a gift should stand the sands of time;

especially if it's your first one to her.So besides them this piece shall be my actual gift.

The sensuousness of her eyes, the shape of her nose ,her skin tone , the pretty and soft hands,

the ebullience of her visage ...

I dont know where to start....

Yes she does look like a diva dressed in a fashionable corset and short skirts , or the trendy

shoes ;she is a connoisseur at choosing her couture fellas.Her flocks have that raw appeal of a

young Julia Roberts to her.

Her impulsiveness surprises me.The angle at which her hypnotising legs are ; characteristic of a

lady with elegance and poise.

God gave u style, god gave u grace,

God put a smile on ur face.

But if someone would ask me what would i do with this pic ; would i have feelings of devour for the subject ?

No i would just sit back and admire the feminism in its purest and most divine form.

I waana be a singer, so as to sing her ;

I wanna be a poet , to dedicate an ode ;

I wanna be a painter, to sketch her ;

I wanna be musician , to compose her into a me lode .

But im just a writer , who has travelled a million isle ;

who now wants to be a camera , so that i could capture her smile.

The jovial , the guileless and the resplendent radiance of the smile

gets me inside ,

so that i dont know wrong from right,

and it all goes quiet,

'Cause everything, everything , everything is gonna be all right.

There's always a obscure presence of a certain someone in your subconscious , in your distant

dream ;whom you cant embody , u cannot define , all u know is that when u see her u wd realise

she is the one.A perfect deja vu.

Turn the lights off in this place

And she shines just like a star

And I swear I know her face

I just don't know who you are

Turn the music up in here

I still hear her loud and clear

Like she's right there in my ear.

Also at display is a mischievous and ingenuous form of a rabid creature. She has to be childishly

sulky .And if she were to abuse you ,it would just amuse you coz of the mesmerizing curl on the

upper lip.

Now the child in her is coz of either of the two facts or both ...

One ...coz god's dearest handiworks shall always have a touch of innocence to them .

two...a young bud not let to blossom; by the greediness of the society ; into a flower.But the

important fact is...that all those who love you dont want you to remain secret and hidden

forever.They want to know Ishita; who the real Ishita is.

So if my dear if you lose faith in urself , when things get gloomy .Say 10 years from now ,

whether i am there or not with you at that instant sweetheart,if things somehow are not d way

they are today. I still want you to come here to this page and read ...

what you truly are...a gem that has blesseth many a lives.

She sings the revolution

the dawning of our lives

she brings this liberation

that I just can't define

nothing comes to mind..............

Varanasi

Bullock Carts paralleled with Lexus and Sedans at traffic signals ( not to mention the buffaloes that know no signals) ,Paan ‘peeking’ joints around the corner of the hippest malls, Orange vermilion suited saree-clad women walking the lanes (and some dwindling lanes those are ) with short-skirted chicks and a mystic smell that fills up the entire city .You either know what that means or else you don’t .

Varanasi is the oldest living city in the world. These few lines by Mark Twain say it all: "Benaras is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend and looks twice as old as all of them put together"

The city is a center of learning and civilization for over 3000 years. Varanasi is a holy city in Hinduism, being one of the most sacred pilgrimage places for Hindus of all denominations. More than 1,000,000 pilgrims visit the city each year. With Sarnath, the place where Buddha preached his first sermon after enlightenment, just 10 km away, Varanasi has been a symbol of Hindu renaissance. Knowledge, philosophy, culture, devotion to Gods, Indian arts and crafts have all flourished here for centuries. Also a pilgrimage place for Jains, Varanasi is believed to be the birthplace of Parsvanath, the twenty-third Tirthankar.

Mrs. Annie Besant chose Varanasi as the home for her 'Theosophical Society' and Pandit Madan Mohan Malviya, to institute 'Benares Hindu University, the biggest University in Asia. Ayurveda is said to be originated at Varanasi and is believed to be the basis of modern medical sciences such as Plastic surgery, Cataract and Calculus operations. Maharshi Patanjali, the preceptor of Ayurveda and Yoga, was also affiliated with Varanasi, the holy city.

Varanasi is associated with promotion of spiritualism, mysticism, Sanskrit, yoga and Hindi language and honored authors such as the ever-famous novelist Prem Chand Great Indian writers have lived in this city from Kabir, Ravidaand Tulsi Das, the famous saint-poet who wrote Ram Charit Manas. Aptly called as the cultural capital of India, Varanasi has provided the right platform for all cultural activities to flourish. Many exponents of dance and music have come from Varanasi. Ravi Shankar, the internationally renowned Sitar maestro and Ustad Bismillah Khan, (the famous Shehnai player) are all sons of the blessed city or have lived here for major part of their lives.

Varanasi is also famous for its trade and commerce, especially for the finest silks and gold and silver brocades, since the early days .Varanasi has several small cottage industries, including Banarasi Silk sari making, the production of textiles such as hand-woven carpets, and handicrafts. Banarasi Silk is known all over the world for its finery and softness. Banarasi Sarees are adorned with intricate designs and zari embellishments making it popular during traditional functions and weddings. Banarasi paan (betel leaf) and khoa (a milk product) are popular, and the related small-scale industries employ many people.Varanasi is also popular for Langda aam(Mango). City is biggest producer of world famous langda mango(Malda Mango).

Varanasi has nearly 100 ghats on the banks of river Ganga; the most sacred one; which is also the lifeline of the city Also if you are a foodie the ghats offer you the exquisite taste of the kachori-jalebi, the malaio, the sweet lassi, n the list goes on…

Omnipresent and unforgettable are the pictures of the magnificent Mogul- and Maharaja palaces, mosques, temples and forts from white marble, red sandstone and other refined material with elaborate and absolutely beautiful stonemason works and inlays of semiprecious stone and one feels, nothing will ever surpass the beauty of this amazing cultural heritage

The exotic sound of Indian music as well as the many real time beautiful photos and videos of India, recall the flair of the orient and convey a vivid picture of all the fascinating and conflicting impressions of what you call Indianess.

Bombay Highs

This one is in fond memory of Singhi aka Ankit Singhania who back then said " Zulu " ; not that

Idlz ( scroll down 2 a post named 'MY my well' in case u still dont know the meaning of Idlz ) address me with

that name anymore... they use an adulterated version of the word prostitute ,nt that i wd work for money but

im gettin increasingly popular wid d male folks ; so said Singhi "I feel things are gonna change forever

after this Mumbai trip ( dt ws January this year) . U r used 2 winning prizes but even if u dont win one wid

me..Im sure we gonna make something big out of this"

.........And Singhi has an incontinent , almost orgasmic lust for success..

Somehow it seems to me that i have got a surreptitious yet profound connection with Mumbai !!

GSM aka Gautam Srinivasan Mukundan will vehemently utter a 'mfao' over dat; spare me the trouble bro

as Ill go on 2 mention that my first girlfriend was a mumbaiker ; n now u can go for my mortification with

indignity .....

Readers might not seen have this coming, but for reasons obvious I had been travelling 2 Bombay

on his( n ofcourse Vasu's) money .. that was ages ago though !!

It recently has come to my notice that in the past three years its only with three people that i have had the

need 2 use the dictionary while/after talking ..N all three of them have become agents of change. First on the list

is Bendy aka Arvind Prasad Hoskote , one who possess a figure much to the envy of ladies accross the globe. One

that inspired me to go anorexic for a while ; lean and frisky is so my thing in the likes of Kylie Minogue,

Kate Moss,Victoria Beckham . Not that i looked what's under Bendy's shirt ; not even for the 2 months when we

shared the bed :D

Now i dont recall any moment of my past three years without Bendy in it...not that im gonna miss u asshole;

its just i wdnt have the sleeping to glory contests or who the fuck am i gonna wake up all the tym or rather go bak

to my room cursing when u dont get up !! Oh i have developed a special taste for swearing u...thts all im gonna miss!!

Cdnt u have studied a wee bit more...go die bitch !!

Now its a deal breaker for the image called Anurag when my voluble self is caught unaware ! Now whenever ive

been confronted with such embarassing situations, i used to evade them usually u knw..n im sure Bendy knew

all dis while ; coz he has known it all widout me sayin it....

Just for the record Arvind is a bitch from the lanes of Bombay !!

Second to repent their show on vocab skills shall be VD aka Vidhi Agarwal . She is a friend...no a menance who

wakes me up at 4 in d mornin ! Even knowing dt i sleep so less as it is :D ; only the thing is its so hard 2 refuse

given her pleasantaries and her martinet self. Now she so openly brags about her linguistics or pedagogy that

any attempt on my behalf to glorify her would not be as sycophantic , not 2 mention any less bleak !!

Hardly need to mention that her recent stint at Mumbai contributes to the devitalizing me part !!

And my rendezevous wid ignorance took place on more than one occassion and it was subversive to my inhibitions...

But cramming up words doesn help..i still write better than her anyday ! I have my peace with the world :D :D

But then i hadnt had my tryst wid my fate u knw..So if you thought that GSM was 'the' weirdest soul to have

inhabited the planet called earth ( for only he can ;i thought; make his biggest folly sound as his feat n vice-versa)

but then let's introduce u to the hottest topic of the town'''Isha aka Ishita Chakrobarty '''who is as much

a rattling turbulence of aberration as GSM if not more ! For if one is a bedlam the other is anarchy personified !!

Now i dont fawn for the "reasons" so rife in the market; coz she is too prudent to distinguish admiration from

adulation or fulsomeness; im just an afficinado of any art form; n u got it wrong people if u thought that i was

gonna call her god's masterpiece''''coz she has been manifested by the devil himself :D

N since she happened to me , i have been convinced that nt tht im falling for Mumbai ..im falling before Mumbai..all

the time ! why this of all cities I fail 2 conquer?? While lik most other places ive lived here as much ..

NO prizes btw for guessing though that this fanatic called Isha comes from the cherished streets of amchi Mumbai!

On usual occassions i wdnt submit to the superiority of her eloquence or nybody' for tht purpose .. but i wd

display fortitude and alleviate my position by calling it nothing but a glib :D

But then ; recently 'somebody' made me realise that how underrated qualities like candor and honesty have been for all

this while ! By accepting ur inadequacies or for that purpose letting ur fallacies be a source of amusement to ur frns ;

can be the most gratifying thing ...

Going slighly offbeat i wd like 2 mention here that I just said sorry 2 my mom after 10 years for absolutely

nything'''it took courage''''but thank "U" for affecting the CHANGE !

Its all bout accepting ur wrongs and laughing along when u r being mocked by ur loved ones................

By the by maybe.. Isha used just some jargon from biology texts that being greek 2 us engineers''''Hence Ho !

I am so gonna be the topper still even if all of them ; the hypocrtical Bendy;the contemptous GSM ;

the hypercritical VD ;or even a headstrong buffoon or an overt wheedle called Isha''; were 2 jointly sit in an xam

against me...i wd have beaten d hell out of them, like i have out of everybody for the last twenty years !

Just so ;

if u might wonder wht GSM had 2 do wid mumbai;;;his family got plans 2 change d abode ! Hell then ;

im so gonna frequent Bombay in d times 2 come for u my boy '''even if u bark like a mad

dog , " ( mfao) U got "other" reasons 4 comin nw " So much for my Love ! i wd say'''shut the !

Clash Of The Titans

& how did it culminate...not with the consummate ease which defined the day....
Not the way i had wanted; or planned; not the way u call it a perfect day with a perfect end...
And i most certainly don't like it when u have a dabbling end.

It starts with a frantic stroll through dwindling lanes of Delhi-6 with clusters of houses over shops, n shops over houses...
or probably houses over houses n shops inside houses or houses inside shops....
n a clatter n a hubbub typical of downtown Banaras ( now i wdn't admit it to her, or else what happens to the rivalry)
Coz if Delhi were so similar to Godowlia ( old Varanasi) then wht wd i taunt her with all day....

n smell of kabbab fused with sandalwood or that with Gobi paranthas or old rugs....

N if u have to convince people in such sorroundings to let you film them, more so act the way u want then to, when the
Sun god intends to scorch ur skin ,or for that purpose the wrath of a certain Mr. Azad, u wd rather have better plans or immune system...

What consumes you more is all night partying; that to when you dont have a venue or ur dance floor is the roof of a Honda City
or ur dinner table the concretes of New Friends Colony and ur couch as random benches at Janpath and South Enclave.

When a bug called Ishi feeds on ur brain which hasnt had the liberty of shutting down for more than 72 hours by then , u wd
rather have a better defence mechanism. Even so if u gotta confront stray dogs ...courtesy Ishi who likes 2 irk them...

When u get abandoned at a platform which rescues to placate ur nerves on both forward and backward journey ; u had better
had a penchant for firmer mattresses...

How ironical is it then ; that even hours of waiting cannot deter ur spirit , hw paradoxical is it then that i have never
been so tired before and never so livelier.
Now i have been up for more than 72 hrs rather much much more...so ive been way tired than this...
n ofcourse when fresh...i wd tend 2 be much more livelier,,,,,

All i need is a small inspiration , but when it is as big as the delectable smile of Totti , as i said...
I have never been so tired n livelier at the same time...
Its just like when u r high !!

So, even when the whole male fraternity is tagged as hooligans , i dont get miffed ..
When im offered the shield ( a white dupatta here, which undoubtedly wd hve made me look sexier)
but i can bare the heat without it...(more so out of chivalry)..

And we are like gesticulating and talkin so lavishly and on topics so random that the daily commuters of Delhi metro
wd pass us as one of their own...When Totti falsely paints me as a poor actor durin Dumb charades just to overlook her actin skills...She comes across
as a rebellion..whose appalling expression i did manage to gather( on the ride whose pic u see above) though i let her foist herself as an intrepid "ride"r
, to the extent of a superwoman...

I would even let her buy the foolish 'pan' flavour of the kulfi and let her blame me for it in the end.
though i must say i tried the 'indian' kulfi for the very first time...guess they r nt so bad afterall....

Now i could recount for you..more serious talks, more eventful things, more pleasing spectacles..n more fun moments..
but i deem its best when they are left just as a part of the memory of the two who shared them..

But i think the monorail train ride which eventually got Totti late, the vociferous jungle and the giraffes n jackles starin at us...
that made things go incomplete...

Coz when there are no proper goodbye's , i usually redo the things again...until they see the conceived end..then must i blame that monorail train ride..
or must i thank it .................

FICTION

I think i know how to write.. atleast i think so... n i can plot , plot stories.. yes i can write them down...i know how to write ..

I can script an end..what i like , and audiences...they like it...then i guess i know how to write..

Yes, then cant i script an end to my own stories... i believe i can ...atleast i believe so...

The end... one way or the other way round..is the same...its the case with all tragedies, the hero dies and the story lives on...


"He that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune, for they are impediments to great enterprises, either of virtue or mischief. Certainly the best works and of greatest merit for the public have proceeded from the men not in love, which both in affection and means have married and endowed the public."

Sometimes when we lose ourselves in fear and despair;in routine and constancy ; in hopelessness and tragedy , we can thank god for
Bavarian sugar cookies.

And fortunately when there arent any cookies..we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin.

or a kind and loving gesture.

or a subtle encouragement.

or a loving embrace.

or an offer of comfort.
Not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs.And uneaten Danish and softspoken secrets and Fender Stratocasters.

and maybe the occassional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things; the nuances, the anomalies,the subtleties...which we assume only
accesorize our days are infact in here for a much larger and nobler cause.

They are here to save our lives..

I know the idea seems strange, but i also know that it just so happens to be true !!

In The Name Of God

Disclaimer - The author doesnt hold any extremist views against Islam or Muslims ..He's an atheist by practice and apologies if any offence is taken by my Muslim friends and Muslims anywhere
else...


~~~~~~~~~~~~ In The Name Of God ~~~~~~~~~~~~

And never before have i craved that the actress ;playing Mary here; crosses the god damned river to evade the clutches of those despotic beasts.

and well...when i should have been sleeping ma ass off given ma onerous APOGEE schedules...i decided to watch this movie KHUDA KE LIYE;
long time due having lost interest in hindi cinema ; but recently recommended rather endorsed by Minu.
And Minu , believe me is a connoissuer when it comes to movie sense or given artistic choices for that purpose...

more so given the fact that quite a few of our fancies overlap ;i had better tagged her interests as subtle. But a suggestion for her,
given her esoteric self or the approach, dear you could be missing out on a few good ones coz of the same attitude.

So..Khuda ke Liye..for those who havent seen it as yet.. its bout a pakistani-British gal , played by Iman Ali....
who is duped by her father into goin 2 pakistan n marrying there 2 her cousin . There she is kept hostage in some village on the border of Afghanistan ..
so that she is discouraged from an attempt at escaping.All this in the name of blasphemy she was goin to conduct by marrying a British guy.

And the atrocities are all a part of the tale..Then there is this elder brother ,named Mansoor,of her husband who post 9/11 has to deal with the American wrath.

And as i was charmed by the winsome Iman Ali .....as i was getting engrossed in the beautiful backdrop against which the movie has been set up.
As i was glad to see a pakistani movie for the first time..As i was acknowledging the realm of pakistan's art n artists...but for these sultry arse-h***s ...



This .... the protaganist in the tale,Mansoor,...he introduces himself to this American gal as a pakistani...while the gal questions...is that even a country !!
where's its postion on the globe..??
And this dumb F*** , goes on xplaining.... "here's Iran, here's Afghanistan , here's China, here's India...and in the centre lies pakistan"...... the gal,xclaims..India ..oh yes i know that ...I love the Taj Mahal ..

The dumb F*** ,Manssor,goes for the revelation ..."ya India..we ruled it for for 1000 years..n Spain , we ruled it for 800 years , and the Taj
Mahal..we built it"... this arse-**** ...son of a ***** ..
.F*** his forefathers n all his coming generations...

N am i like, bizzarely for a 'few of u ' who call me d composed chuck, im lik enraged to unimaginable arrants..

Bloody pigs that they are..who even owe their identity to India for locating their position on the map..who owe every penny ,
that they shovle up their a**, to India ..regale in the fact that they ruled us...ruled ma a**.. !!

and Taj Mahal...burn *****f**** ... its Indian artists n artisans who built it...and not that mo**** f**** Shah Jahan...
F*** Babar, F*** Akbar, F*** Shah Jahan....

So this one incident in this one movie irks me...lacerates the me who's been an ardent and enthusiastic supporter of the peace process or the cordial
n brotherhood thingos b/w the two nations... its turned me.. into a fanatic who now rebukes pakistan publically;
maybe this article lands up in the hands of taliban -pakistan -terrorists...whtever ; they are all the same ; arent they....

maybe i stand a chance of being tortured to death after this...but for the first time in 20 years , something "Indian" is wht i feel.....

And the director...whom i had been appreciating the skillful and insightful depiction of the emotional anguish of Mary ...
Like the scene where the these two young gals in that house where Mary is abducted..." Aaapa Aap bag jao...Um to english seeke bina kaam chala lenge"....

or the plight of women in that shithole of a place...where Mary pleads to God that let her child be a boy...no ...not at all a girl...
the director...now ill laud him for beautifully bringing out the cheap bastardy that sucks their brains...

So..in those lands...it is preached...by the highest Islamic authorities...that u are not a "mard" until u have killed innocent people...
or for that purpose..if it comes to showing your power...raped a woman...like Mary's husband does to her...
so that she wont run given her child would b there...

Hence the American officer gets it right who abducts the elder brother, , for false 9/11 accusations;
when he says.." you cant afford to live well...Osama must have paid for you..after all you are a poor country "...
and more remarkabely... "YOu kill in the name of god , and then you lie in the name of god " ..

P.S - The author doesnt hold any extremist views against Islam or Muslims ..He's an atheist by practice and apologies if any offence is taken by my Muslim friends and Muslims anywhere
else...

of Fig Leaves

Saying the word f*** twice each line doesn make you an anarchistic writer.To be rbellious you need more..

I don know what this post is about...i just dont know..

Random thoughts....

Plangent,some of them are...they indulge me'

Everyone's talkin' , all this stuff bout me..
Why dont they just let me be ...

I dont need permission,
to make my own decision,,that's ma prerogative !

cut.........

Ruminating, some of those thoughts are... they inspire me..

At the interview..

> how are you ?

im a little under the weather but, gud..gud 2 be here...thanks...

> some folks have compared the wait for your new post to the decade plus wait for the guns n roses album...which one
do you think will see the light of the day first ?

i certainly hope that i beat guns n roses to the punch..coz i wanna get to Oprah's book club..
i want a sticker from the book club
i wanna get on the show and ask her 'bout the scene..where she squats n pees ...how many retakes...does she have a method ...

(interrupt )

> on a more serious note your blog is prompting a lot of under the cover cooling talk ?

thank you ...but its more like pissing out of my ass...things just bother me n i write about them...

> so what is bothering you know, wht's your latest obsession ?

its just the fact that people dont write anymore...
Just the fact that people seem to be getting dumber and dumber..
you know..we have all this amazing technology and yet computers have turned into 4 figure whank machines...

Internet - it was supposed to set us free, democratize us..but all its given us is how Howard Dean
aborted candidature and 24 hour access to kitty porn.

People , they blog...instead of talking they text...
No punctuation, no grammar..
Lol this and Roflmao that...

Its just a bunch of stupid people psuedo communicating with a bunch of other stupid people, with a
prototype that seems more of cave's menu than kings english ...

> You are a part of the problem , aren't you ... you are out there blogging with the best of them ??

Hence...myself on a low then..