Monday, May 29, 2017
Saturday, April 25, 2015
Monday, February 23, 2015
These days I work for US east coast and shift spans from 6 pm IST to 4 am IST. Travelling to office and return to home is quite smooth as I do not face much traffic especially at 4 am. The road is deserted and lonely, so is my adjacent seat and so is the mind. It is at this stretch of the night or morning, if some would like to call it that, that the vagaries of the mind start their interplay.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
I read these lines on the wall post of my cousins FB profile:
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace…
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
P.S.: The Couple are blind, devoid of the sense of Vision, their other senses make it up for that loss.
Just in case you didn't get it while reading or watching the suggestive pictures. :)
Monday, May 31, 2010
Saturday, May 01, 2010
Saturday, April 03, 2010
This is Mumbai meri jaan, where life is a mechanized system of well defined parameters and the output is nothing but a lethargic self who earns his bread and butter from the sugar bowl of the country.
I managed to get myself an aisle seat, right side of the bus. The bus halts at the next stop and then moves again. A white Tee and denim clad gal, crosses my seat and sits across my seat on the left side of the bus though 2 rows ahead. I can’t see her face coz her silky tresses were left open to bedazzle the lethargic mortals of the bus by their free flight in the breeze.
I’m trying, making my eyes make impossible angles to get a look at her face. Desperation…..
Then I get to see her hand….the opposite side of her palm had a scar on it. Looked like a burn scar. I kept looking at it. It fascinated me. I was thinking about the story behind the scar, the events that would have resulted in that scar, the story of the gal who has this scar, and how her face looks like.
The ticket collector called “Master” in Mumbai came to my rescue and played the role of my best friend. She turned back to take her ticket…..What a beautiful face she had….. Yet she had an ugly scar to her hand. I was forced to recall a dialogue from Hamlet where Shakespeare said that even if a thing is very beautiful, one spot, mark, or scar can taint its entire beauty and take away all its credit. Though this was said by Polonius to Ophelia and in context of a girl’s chastity, it holds true for all beautiful objects. We do disregard a beautiful piece, even though its 99.99% beautiful.
It was an instant attraction. I was in love with that scar laden beauty. I kept looking at her scar until she decided to get down on her stop. I missed her for the rest of my journey.
The scar remained in my mind all that night and I kept recalling the picture of her hand, her beautiful face and the silky tresses.
I was returning from work the next day, fought my way again for a vacant seat, and by a strange twist of fate, the girl is again in the same bus. The scar catches my attention again, though her hair was tied. It’s strange, banging into the same gal for 2nd consecutive day. I felt a connection, and a strong urge to talk to her. But I didn’t want to be termed a pervert. India is still not for a guy like me who has a clear conscience and clean intentions. We live through lot of social taboos.
The scar is holding my attention again, it’s a beautiful scar. Yeah I like it. I want to hold that hand, and allay all the pain associated with it, mitigate her fears and give her a smile of mine.
She gets down on her stop, taking away my attention.
I have never seen her again. The journey continues…
A spastic kid sitting in front of the bus is catching people’s attention. Few morons scolding him for they cant understand him.
I’m fascinated by his world and amused by the happiness he was exuding. He was crowded by some 50 odd morons in that bus including me, but that didn’t bother him. He was very much in his world, thoroughly enjoying it, and living every bit of it which none of those morons did. I had stopped it long back.
He spoke to himself, telling himself about things which amused him; he would laugh, chuckle and then get silent. He looked at things with lot of curiosity. A sense of wonder would grasp him, something that his senses could not comprehend and the other morons never bothered to understand it.
He would tell someone about something and would either laugh or get silent at the response of his invisible friend.
I’m jealous of him. He has what none of the moron’s in that bus can ever get. He holds the secret to life, and is very subtly, giving it out too. We are too stupid to even get a bit of it.
I’m jealous of him. His happiness is choking
I’m jealous of him. His world is such a wonderful place to be.
I’m jealous of him. He has a friend to talk to.
I’m jealous of him. People don’t bother or deter him.
I’m jealous of him. He has not lost his sense of wonder.
I’m jealous of him. He is what he wants to be.
I’m jealous of him. He is intelligent and he doesn’t have to prove it to anyone.
I’m jealous of him. He has contentment.
I’m jealous of him. His soul is free of vices.
I’m jealous of him. He holds no pretences.
I’m jealous of him. He has not lost his smile.
Sunday, November 09, 2008
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------I am writing after about 8+ months and I don’t know if I still can but nevertheless, sometimes some crap can even taste nice.
It was uncalled for, unwarranted, yet a strange mix of emotions had compelled me to accept this invitation. It was astonishing that how easily I had accepted it. I had no clue how this will happen yet a force, unparallel, unmatched, had overcome my reasoning and I had just given into it.
The stage was all set…
I move in..
The dance floor was glittering, shimmering and was inundated with numerous divas of the night.
And in the centre, of all those incandescent divas of the night, I could easily spot her. It wasn’t really difficult. You may call me pink blind. She was in a dazzling pink dress. No wonder she looked scintillatingly beautiful, gorgeous, out-of-the-world… I mite just fall short of words :)
I was invited to the floor along with one of my friend…
It was strange, may be I was timid; I couldn’t dance among all those divas around and my friend….a married bloke was hitting the floor hard and the girls just grooving around him. I knew it wasn’t coming. I was off the floor, went to the bar and had few shots. The throat was drenched and the blood had it running with it. I felt I was ready.
I hit the floor again. The beats, the moves, the jigs, the jives, the hops….everything was flowing out as the booze ran through the blood. Soon the tired divas were off the floor and my happy bloke friend too.
She had to oblige me, I was her invite.
The floor was all ours, so was the choice of music. A sly smile and a wink, and the DJ knew what he was mixing next.
She was there, she was in my arms, she was beside me, she was in front of me, she was behind me…yes she was all around me and I around her. We swayed with the music, we bent with the music, we grooved with the music. We had people staring at us, we had people praising us, we had people envying us, we had people blessing us and we had people asking for more… The ambience was great, the music apt and we did all we could.
I DANCED... LIKE I NEVER DID BEFORE….
I shall always remember the night, that dance and yes HER !
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Her world changed forever and so did mine.
I stood as a hapless friend unfortunate to not even be of any help; a mute spectator, a motionless bystander, a blind watcher, a deaf listener and a dead friend.
It all happened, while I was there, unaware of the turmoil in her life; a moral turpitude, and all for the sake of “LOVE”………….
………and it died in the longer run.
Her chirpiness lost, her suppleness defused, her charm mitigated, her voice faded yet her grace intact. She still gives a picture of a perfect find.
You will still fall in love with her.
The aura still glowing…
It’s hard to accept her today. She is possessed. The possessor being her own ego.
She doesn’t accept herself anymore. She has deprived herself……living in abstinence.
She is not “SHE”.
It is unrealistic to think of a life without ‘she’ being a part of it.
It’s a symbiotic equation, my existence being a greater dependant variable.
I wish I can bring her back her smile and I know I can…
Let this Thursday be a witness. The Jupiter be my chariot and with all its "might and pull" I shall fulfill her world.
The sky beckons, the world heralds, the breeze sings, the flowers make the ambience scent-full; the first ray and the day shall unwind……
…….HAPPY VALENTINE!! ...... SWEETHEART!!
Saturday, January 19, 2008
With that last sight, there were too many last things, which became the last happenings, in the last days, of my last happy days with her.
That Last Hug…
That Last Walk…
That Last Company…
That Last Dance…
That Last Talk…
That Last Journey…
That Last Wish…
That Last Phone Call…
That Last BEST FRIENDSHIP…
In my pursuit of happiness and the daunting quest for love, I left her behind, to find answers to her own bewildering, perplexing vagaries of heart and mind.
I never knew, that I was a die – hard, incorrigible romantic at heart, until those M&B’s, Jab We Met’s and Dil Mil Gaye’s engulfed me in their spirals and my heart fluttered in delight, of the incessant happiness that LOVE has.
I love Armaan’s passes at Ridhima. I love the exasperation Ridhima shows to her vacillating emotions. I love their chemistry, I love their love. I won’t be surprised if they fall in love in real life too, playing that reel life for too long. Love is all that enigmatic. But I hate what Kareena did to Shahid. But then, like Geet (Kareena) says, “Your mother didn’t knew what she was doing coz she was in love”. I think I will have to let her go, coz her love beckons her (what was with Shahid then).
Love being a matter of heart and not mind, played the elusive riddle until I met HER. And…I was bitten by the pangs of love, giving me interminable moments of anxiety, pain, happiness, tears smiles and LOVE.
For the first time, I lived that cherishing moment, when I found myself lost in her company, oblivious of this world, society, office, home, people, life, death…
For the first time I felt wanted.
For the first time I felt loved.
For the first time I felt complete.
For the first time that void within was filled.
For the first time I had Heart over Head.
Now I realized, that those numerous lonely nights, spent crying for her, wishing she would come back one day, optimistic of love cruising its way through, were nothing but a mere waste of my valuable emotions. She wasn’t concerned, she wasn’t in love, she wasn’t mine…
She will be happy in her world is what I wish and be indifferent, for my own world beckons me now. I have a lot to give to one who truly deserves it.
“hhhhmmmmmmmmmmm”, a big sigh of desperation.
I wish, all I wrote could be true, I wish I could have moved on, I wish I could have stopped thinking about her, I wish I did not intend to be with her life long, I wish if she wasn’t the one whom I could confide in, I wish she wasn’t the one to be with me, I wish I hadn’t met her at the first place, I wish we would have not come to the point where we stand today.
Expectation is a silent but a barbaric killer. It enters silently into your life creating mayhem and then leaves incorrigible wounds of desperation, haplessness, helplessness, and nadir.
There is nothing I can do much, but to wait, let time takes it own trajectory and end up in my laps.
I don’t know why but I live in an eternal hope and a dream…
“ABOU BEN ADHEM,
MAY HIS TRIBE INCREASE,
AWOKE ONE NIGHT,
FROM A DEEP DREAM OF PEACE…”
May DREAMS come true…
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
A year has passed by….
A year of hope – despair, dreams – reality, friends – foes, love – hatred, fidelity – infidelity,
SHE – ME
A year that saw the insinuations which will make even the Alps shy.
How I missed those late night talks, those lovely walks, a companion by my side, waves of happiness to ride, those bear hugs and the chocolate dipped kisses. How I found her so near at times and then non – existent at other.
How I spend those lonely nights coming in terms with the truth, how at one time I wanted to leave it all, how I wanted to make a hell of my life at one time, how I wanted to see nothing through, how I was getting my ever – existent SHELL to close forever, how I’m still alive, how I move into the next year.
All in a year…..
It started a little earlier than last year but ended in the last year, making the year special. And like I have always remembered the dates like an honest historian, I shall remember these too.
1 December, 2006 :)
17 January, 2007 :(
25 January, 2007
14 February, 2007
24 August, 2007
26 October, 2007
10 November, 2007
1 December, 2007 :(
24 December, 2007
25 December, 2007
Funny it seems now.
However the year drew to an end with fond memories making it a year of not regret but not to forget.
I met “Morning Dew”, and thought of happiness abound but then soon realized that Morning Dew is lost by the morning itself. It’s not something that lasts till the darkness of the night.
The “Acceptance” however hard it may be had to be taken in stride, dunno how successful I will be. The truth is a harrowing blasphemy. Painful, morose, melancholic……
But in the dark hours of this harrowing “Truth”, I never miss her radiant face, her pristine smile, her pleasant company, her lovely talks….. Seems like I’m in awe with every aspect of her existence.
I have loved walking with her; the most beautiful part of my time spent with her. It’s the one thing which I will never forget and shall do anything to get a minute of walk with her.
The end of the last year has given me the best of memories, may be they help me cruise through the tough journey ahead.
The road uphill his harsh, lonely and crucifying but is the only truth existent. The year ahead may have its own song to sing but I have my own for the whole year…
“DEKHO CHHOD KAR, KIS RASTE, WO JAATE HAIN….
SAARE RASTE, WAPIS FIR, DEKHO AATE HAIN …
NAHIN SAAMNE, YEH ALAG BAAT HAI..
MERE PAAS HAI TU, MERE PAAS HAI
MERE SATH HAI, MERE SATH HAI….”
Friday, October 12, 2007
After years of mundane existence, I’m finally revitalized like the first bloom of spring, and I find myself as rejuvenated as the first drop of rain. After years I feel like living and living to live for a happy contended life.
I thought it’s all over, but I never realized life is a full circle with no corners and ends. In this never ending pursuit of survival, I barged into her.
I saw her in that deadly combo of white shirt and blue denims for the first time. Pretty appealing and then I lost her in the crowd. Every girl around was in the same combination and I just couldn’t get my eyes off of all those candies, definitely with floss.
Few days later, and on a hazy morning I was asked to wish someone on her birthday. I did it in my own subtle way with words that just soothe the soul. I had never heard the name before or seen her. But I did get to see her the same evening. “Oh! The birthday girl”, I muttered to myself and moved away. I lost her again, this time not in the crowd but in the loneliness of those stairs.
Days passed, and then one fine morning I was bedazzled by one of the most enchanting beauties I had ever come across. It was she again. “How in the world I could have missed that”, and that one thing that had caught my fancy was that “SMILE” of hers, that still lingers in my memories and my lips touch ear to ear. I thought I was always floored by ‘their’ eyes but for a change like the other changes in an around me, for the first time it was a “SMILE”. Innumerous skipped heart beats have rendered me speechless and with every passing day, my fondness for her has grown manifold.
I know not what her smile has in it but it has the perfect ingredients to allay my anxieties, relieve me from pain and tension and soothe the soul to such an extent that living under her shadow is what I can crave for all time. Her looks have the innocence of a new born, pristine and heavenly. Such is their charisma and mesmerism that I feel guilty of falling in love with her. I feel like that street urchin who touches the silk robes of the queen’s palace and stains them forever. I find her so innocent that being a part of her life produces guilt in me coz I’m not one of those blessed ones. I’m afraid of asking her out coz I find myself so frugal in front of her richness of persona. I don’t find myself even worth her friendship coz I’m guilty of condemnable acts. I feel this coz her aura is so divine and honest that makes me feel introspective and makes every inch in my cadaver to account for and find that I’m just not existent in front of her.
Her beauty is exhilarating. No she isn’t some beauty queen. She has the simplest of looks a girl could have but with that smile it adds so much panache and mesmerism to her personality that she bowls over everyone around. Her beauty is inexplicable in words and immeasurable in any unit. I’m blessed to be around her for a while every now and then.
My dream of a wife seems so near yet so far. I feel like marrying now, if only she says “YES”. She is just the one I had ever dreamt and it gives me immense pleasure in the fact that my dream wasn’t a fantasy and there still exist a possibility to my dream.
I WONDER WHEN MY DREAM COMES TRUE…
Sunday, July 22, 2007
The last meet is all I had lived upon all this while. The day always seems too long until I have her by my side. The daily mundane tasks assigned to me by the authorities are a pain until I have her face making me sail through them. The co – workers rather co – inhibitors would have good time in my presence, but they could never fill the void within.
“It always takes an ocean to fill the well in me”
She had come to meet me at my States apartment which was given to me by my company, “Virginia Tech.”. In other words it was a store room apartment. It was packed with all the junk available in the town. It was in complete contrast to my Mumbai apartment where I had just bedding and few of my belongings in a spacious room with a big two door size French windows. It was hard to find a place for her to sit. But she made her self comfortable, may be it was more important that we were together than where we were. We had a good long chat that day, remembering the good old days we had at college and the few good times we spent alone. In the evening I had taken her for a walk down town. She had left me great memories to live all this while. And today we meet again.
As the time nears by for her arrival, I’m getting more anxious and jittery. Somehow the glass between us would make all the difference. I can’t help it, I wish I could……….
Its time and she is here. I’m being taken to the “Guest Room”. There she is, in the most hottest and appealing combination according to me. A crisp white body hugging cotton shirt and blue denims. “Ohh! Heaven! Gimme some more time with her…………………
We sit across each other, the glass between us, and the microphone to our aid. What should I tell her? Words are lost for me. All I can do is, see long in her eyes to draw all my times I had not been with her together. I can’t hold it anymore.
“Officer, I have a request...”
“What is it Mr. Anand?”
“I don’t know if it’s in your discretion, but I think it will be my last wish if I can make any.
Can you by any chance let me out, I want to walk by the woods with her”
“What, ahmmmm, I don’t know if I can do anything bout it,……..wait, lets see……., I would be risking my job, but ahmmmm, I think I would give in to those vibes I see you share with her.”
I see the sky after a month. How great it is to see, that how trivial we are and how miniscule our existence is in front of that vast blue spread. I look at her. There is peace within and a sense of accomplishment. I’m fortunate for this walk. After this everything would be easy, I know that within. I’m beyond my usual questions, what if….., what if not,….had it, ……may be,……, they are lost in her presence. She is too comforting and her face allays all turbulence within.
The woods are silent and the breeze chilly; the birds aren’t chirping and the silence harrowing. May be it’s a harbinger, but who cares now, I have her by my side. Sometimes you talk nothing, sit silent for hours together, and when you part, you feel you had the best conversations ever. Yes, I had it too. One of those which will remain in my heart forever.
“Forever”(chuckle), as if forever lasts for ever.
Time is up, and I have to return. The woods even more silent and the wind even chillier. They definitely tell the tale. She would have to leave; I don’t want her to stay till the end. It would be painful for her.
It’s that one thing you really care about,
The one special thing that means to you more than anything else in this world,
When you find her, you fight for her; you risk it all, you put her in front of everything, your future, your life, all of it.
And may be that doesn’t help her to be….
You know it doesn’t matter,
Because in your heart you know,
That the “JUICE IS WORTH THE SQUEEZE”
”- The Girl Next Door
The cell is sealed. The gas is out.
I’m losing sight………loosing my breath.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
In the past few months this has been the hammering question in my mind; What is a Sin? Who is a Sinner?
Let me put some food for thought on your platter.
- A person does an act that’s condemned by the society and the cultural and moral police but for that person, the act is no sin. So in such a situation should the act be called a sin and that man a sinner? Ironically we call it a sin and the person sinner coz all but one think the same way. TAKEN
- If a person does an act for which no one says or feel anything but the person feels he has committed a sin and considers himself a sinner. In such a situation what would the general verdict be?
Thus the question arise that what is a sin? Is it a sin, when all but one, think, that it’s a sin or is it a sin, when the person committing it considers it a sin?
In the former situation it would get inevitable to pin down the delinquent coz he would never owe up hence a bench mark needs to be set but what in the latter case when the person owes up but no one really bothers it.
Isn’t it a sin, when my conscience tells so but no one really feels that I’m punishable? Wouldn’t the inner fire of purgation make it a hell for the person to live anymore? But then committing suicide and failing in it is another sin BY LAW. What does it leave for the person then?
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Have you ever seen the beauty in filth; I’m sounding insane, I know, but did you? Yes it’s got a beauty of its own. Try staring at it for long, long enough before that dizziness sets in. You would find it’s not all that to be detested. If you figured out something in a filthy drain that adorned your living room some time back then how it can detest. It was a part of you at one point of time.
“A THING OF BEAUTY IS A JOY FOREVER”
“Nothing is good or bad but thinking makes it so”, said Shakespeare. It’s our nature to like something to such an extreme that to detest it becomes so easier. I’m at a conclusion that besides nature which is cyclic in pattern everything else in life follows a bell shaped pattern. Starting from no where in its gestation, begins on a low note, reaches its peak where it becomes an apple of eye, starts to descend and then lost in transition. Becomes the detesting FILTH.
Men are filthy too. Filthy by their own existence. Filthy though not in appearance but in mind. All men have split personality. Hypocrisy is their other name. No not coz they don’t know how to mince words to hide their filth but they are an adroit in hiding their split personality. Hypocrite’s coz their split personality makes them different persons in front of different people. Dexterous in hiding their filthy persona to the person of their interest. But once confronting their filthy counterparts all that glitter is lost in the filth. Yes we all put up pretences.
Some, rather many would call it an art but what’s in an art that keeps changing form. The only art that can be accepted with its changing forms is nature rest all is FILTH!!
But filth is beautiful too. Some filthy men would be genuinely good and smart and handsome. Ever wondered why the goons and dons have the hottest babes. Simple, the babes already know of their filthy persona. Nothing is hidden. And it’s an acceptance of that filth which is apparent not concealed like others; the filth in others surfaces later when all the glitter and sheen has withered and the filth becomes apparent only to make life troublesome.
It’s best to have a filthy real persona than to have a dual existence, a split personality, and a constant hypocrisy that kills in the long run.