The Last Call !!!

BACKHOE (Pictorial Representation) aka ME

CR – Abhi

Global consultant & Neetu – Sridhar

Dementia – My second track

Kaput – my good side

Index

Void ab initio – deemed invalid since begining

“बस आखिरी कॉल!  फिर नहीं !” It is difficult to finish a never ending conversation.  A tsunami might have hit 10 meters away, a lightning thunder must have roasted Neetu, and finally I could see CR shutting his mouth up with asphyxiation. I might have been hallucinating, though I wished for a moment it was true at least for CR; night seemed to be colder than before in Jampot and a claustrophobic feel entrenched me beneath an open sky.

My fear was staring at me; “In your face Bro!”; harder was to allay the thought of not calling her tomorrow. No more of colossal bills, no more of SMS recharge packages, would Bharti Airtel go bankrupt (the demented MBAian spoke again), even smoke rings looked like sore arses.

A pause, “tomorrow, I’m getting married “. I was taken down by shrillness of Abhi’s voice, “साले QUIZ का टाइम हो रहा है दोनों साले कहाँ @#$@# रहे हो!!” “Fuck you CR, another word you utter and I would get a crane, pick you with your balls…..” for the first time I felt like a Backhoe (the mean crane machine). CR could well sense the gravity of the situation and left blabbering for some other location.

“You there?” yeah very much, but not in totality, a part me had been sucked into void.  The night seemed to grow darker, colder, emptier and blunt.  I felt this vicious week was at fault, all Indian were at fault, how whole of India can get married in November. “सबको शादी करने की पड़ी है, ##$^%^ ! शादी न हो गयी चरस हो गयी बो दो सबकी २३@#@#$” (Dementia speaks!)

The noises in background subdued, I couldn’t utter a word, she was leaving me, I recollected myself, swallowed the lump which grew heavy with each second, I said those three magical words, “all the best !”.  ( Crash ! Seriously dude, after a courtship period of 6 years all she gets to hear is “ALL THE BEST!”, and what is so magical about it.) The three words can fit in any situation (Dementia speaks!) ;   I tried, tried and tried, all I could utter were words which seemed utter sham, we exchanged few rounds of warmth, few more rounds of conversations, few more…... It lasted for an hour.

She said: “Good Bye! I’ll see you soon.” That’s it I suppose. ”What did she mean by see you soon?” I stood there in the corridor all alone staring into the void, She dropped off, why me? Why her, why us, why the fuck am I in Jampot (Dude you have paid 15 lakhs for your MBA- yours sincerely Kaput), hence this question is void ab initio.

My cologne had stopped working, all of a sudden I could feel a stubble on my face ( but I did shave this morning), my sweatshirt seemed sulky, my shoes seemed torn, In the mirror nearby I could see the other side of me smiling.

“अबे बिशु दा के ढाबे चलो BACKHOE, QUIZ के तो पकोड़े लग गए, global consultant पता नहीं कहाँ loafing कर रहा है!” CR was back, he smiled jovially, but it failed to elate me. We walked slowly out of the alley; CR’s chatter box was still on, all of a sudden it struck me, I had left my watch back in the library, CR promptly said “अमा तो ले आते हैं, घडी ही तो है घोडा थोड़ी ना भाग जायेगी जो?”

I smiled for a moment, “she gave me that as a gift let it is. Not needed anymore.”

“बिशु दा, 3 चाय और 1 सुट्टा देना”

The smoke within admonished me, I smiled and said “Perhaps I will take that wrist watch tomorrow morning!!”

  

Giving Up !!!!

This part, right here is a void; I can’t face myself in the mirror. After initial hysteria that died, the euphoric tunes seem to have turned into cacophonous noises. All that is left a void, a chasm which I find hard to fill in.

This part right here is called GIVING UP!

I was done with my salary negotiations which didn't go as expected. I think I couldn't get my share because I was weak, I couldn't hard sell. Even an ostrich could have bargained better than me. It hurts you more when people around you were able to fetch more than you. Damn….

Then Rahul says, “Dude, it seems you got nervous” poor me, spot on, bingo, yeah you got it right Rahul, and here is your million dollar cheque. To cash it you got to sign – ARSE!

I still feel more than anything that hurts me is that I failed yet again to take a stand, the feeling is immense, dis-aggregated I feel an inertia surmounting, sucking me back to a chasm. In short I feel like crying. Meanwhile somewhere deep down, dementia speaks, “Crocodile tears don’t fetch you money. You Jackass!!!”

Yeah, it’s silly, I can’t ask god why me because I know. I’m the ONE! The only ONE! The only CHOSEN ONE – MORON DONKEY.

My room is in a mess, so is my brain – brain dead. People around are happy , they demand treats, they demand alcohol, they demand YO YO HONEY SINGH, after all I’m about to become GLOBAL LEADER. An oxymoron donkey still feels better than Global Leader – True Story.

To add to the broth, I feel cheated, I feel hell. Congrats dude for creating one damn awesome BROTHELL!!!

I don’t know which clothes to fold, which papers to put to basket, where to search for my wallet, even that damn itch guard is missing. If there was an award for philanthropy, congrats you just won an award. Best Saving caused to your company, errrrrr….. Future company.  What I always had cherished for doesn't seem lucrative enough…..

This part right here is called GIVING UP!

Diaries of a Back Bencher

क्या क्या चलता है इस दिमाग में, ऐ ग़ालिब

कहीं फितुरियां उमड़ रही होती है, तो कहीं कसक बुनी जाती है

बेबाक तथ्यों से होकर गुज़रे थे, देखा की गलियां इतनी सूनी क्यूँ हैं

पास मुहल्ले में ईदगाह है वही पर होंगे सब के सब.

कमबख्त क्या मालूम, पास में स्कूल भी लगा करता है

आजकल वहीँ आराम फरमा लेते हैं

A dream worth dying for.....

Everyday, I start afresh
take a hit, I don't mind,
scars on soul remind me of times
take a shot, I can't whine


everyday, I start to run
to tear the chaos, to cut loose from the wind
a slying chrome defines my world
an elusive dream outta my clutch


the times I was struck, at times I'm  broke
at times when the jeer, at times when the shout
I would take a shot, and run for a mile.
I would take a jibe on myself, 
Put on my trendy clothes, 
no matter I have a 1 rupee coin
would go out and run for a mile

India : Paunch in the Genes

Disclaimer: This post carries adult content, though in no ways intended to insult anyone. No Alpha males were harmed during the observations made. 

Travelling by metro on an early saturday morning towards Delhi, my moron cells made an important discovery.

I usually prefer travelling at the cusp of bogies, conjoining reserved women's compartment with the potpourri (that includes me). This lot primarily consist   of men who love being touched and touching others (to the point of fulfilling their carnal desires). Few love sleeping over you. 

The objective to position myself in such a place (trust me lucky few get this place) solve my two point agenda:

a. you don't have to smell "smelly-bushy" armpits of Indian Alpha male (NO matter how many ads portray desires fulfilled, bhabhis giving you lap dances and  AXING of libidos (A Pisces love exaggeration), we aka WE don't believe in applying DEODORANTS.  PERIOD!!! ). The fragrance from the other side is mesmerizing. The awry alpha male on the other side always look to this side wanting and panting for more. An unreachable territory  which for many out is desirable, intrigued eyes left wanting for more. Especially if you are around INA, jorbagh and Saket stations loads of pretty faces can be found, an eye candy. (Delhites call them totta)

Few who are brave and overenthusiastic try crossing the tormented line only to be ridiculed and sent back. The raucous aunties have their pound of flesh (You would always find one around in metro and trust me they won't get up and dance). These libidos then return with a clumsy smile. I guess that was the closest they ever got to a girl.

In the back ground someone mobiles rings "Ooh lala ooh lala, tuh hai meri fantasy !!! na na na..". Aptly said it describes the state of the men standing near that exclusive spot. The B-spot (aka BOGUS)

b. You are left amused with very interesting conversations from both ends. samples:

    "तू मुझे बहुत डांटेगी, पर मैंने ना उससे Break up कर लिया. yaar he was two timing me. कितनी परेशान हूँ मैं  !!!"

    "अरे हम कह रहे हैं ना बस पहुचते हैं , चरस बो दिए है आप  तोह!!" (and then he recites in a poetic tone, remembering mothers and sisters of our motherland)

"ओ जी, बच्चे  को सु सु  (toilet the no 1 types) लगी है ना, यही दरवाज़े पर करा दो ! gents लोगों  के लिए ही problem होती है . बच्चों के  लिए नहीं ."(I almost had a cardiac arrest after hearing this)

TRIVIA: *चरस : poppies. A kind of crude drug used by druggist across globe. 

*बो : sown. 

I can't really tell you the intricacies of where the man in question sowing these poppies. 

Unlike tube/metros around the globe you would rarely find people reading. READING !!! "man its like he is intellectual types". "Not that he is a loner but he wants to read". "inko dekho metro mein padhai kar rahe hain." To add to his travesty, people along with him start reading too. They don't read his book but read his expressions. "BHaiya ji padhai kar rahe hain!!!"

The metro stops at Saket, enters our GEN-X. O benc$@#s !! The colors subliming into one, pump up shoes from Palika bazar, the well spiked gelled harido (as a baldy I'm jealous) and a 'YO' attitude on their shoulders. I could well see scores of Mr. Kohli's,  few enter with their girlfriends. 

In our times, I would have sung "yehi hai right choice baby, aha !!"

First thoughts the alpha male first stares-glares (बाय गौड आँखों से दरिन्दिगी टपक रही है.) and then thinks - "sahi totta hai !!". There is heartburn in the air, few are left bloating and and few have been stuck with acidity only to relieve gases at an appropriate time. (The time bomb timer has been set).

Few uncles think aloud, ladies compartment toh aagey fir......!!

Midst all this lovely crow-d, I was about to discover something....

Lighting had struck me, and I saw them kissing, paunch of men kissing other paunches !!! Holy cow !!! Eureka !! I had witnessed an epiphany.

Verdict: We Indians are best suited for Jeans. Our body - made up of fat, proteins, minerals, muscles, tissues and GAS (tick tick tick!!) is physically the best place for the jeans to reside on.

Dear Jeans, its in our genes,

to imbibe thy flair,

to put you on, to test thy stitching

thy strongest cloth would hold my derriere,

my paunch would rest on thy top,

thy completes my attire,

Thy complete my attitude

O' thou and I look so good together

O'Jeans you are in my genes.

(this verbatim is a piece of literature I follow - PROFANITY)

Jeans in rugged for decades, few unwashed for years, faded, crisscrossed, few inviting (showing the most illustrious and most sensuous part of alpha male)  bum cleavages, jeans tore from the ends, few which not only cover the curves but also our very own customized bellies (soft and hard, three tier architectures etc.). 

Apart from the ones available in the market such as Boot cuts, straight cut, low waists, low bums, skinny. There is an elite design one which even covers you chest - yes these are our very own two in one.

The genes are symbolic for us, the anonymous hero which never lets you down, you take it to places (you booze, flush, fight, abuse, rest etc) and it bears everything. More over it bears the weight of your paunch sometimes by making it rest over it and  sometimes covering it. It goes in handy. If your jeans fails to cover you roundness, you can always open its button before lunch and yet it would hang in there as fateful (faithful) partner, it transpires and becomes low waist (some time low bum too). Yet it never has and perhaps never would find a mention in the books. I salute to the unsung hero. 

I dedicate thou the Haywards anthem: Hausla ho buland !!

On the other hand, the GENX has made the girl laugh and the witnesses are about to diffuse their time bombs(tick tick tick !!!).

You have kissed  paunch every thing and trust me "tu mera hero".

the tsunami of thoughts took a jerk. Our very own Shammi Narang (the voice of the metor announcer, a veteran from Doordarshan days) breaks into.

"अगला स्टेशन पटेल चौक! दरवाज़े दायीं तरफ खुलेंगे. कृपया दरवाजों से चिपक कर खड़े हों." (its not चिपक, though it goes better with the phrase, actually its हट )

My station had arrived and the silent time bomb has just been exploded. I had to get out. GO GO GO !!!

This time I saved my genes. 

Vertigo !

I poured in 4 cups of Americano,
a dangling modifier misplaced my vision
it feels I'm in a vertigo
it cuts me out to the core 
oh no, how should I tell you...
yeah, it feels I'm in a vertigo


painted zigzag on the canvas,
ranted thoughts in diary,
staring walls of my room...
yes, it feels I'm in a vertigo
pulled out my rugged jeans, 
got omelette and a beer
It seems few meteorites just hit my head,
it feels I'm in a vertigo


got to nearest subway,
boarded a train to an unknown station,
my thoughts are still in a tizzy,
yeah I'm in a vertigo.....

Monday Blues - I

Sunday Morning 0830 AM :

Indira Gandhi Terminal - 3: Nikks hugged me. Here she goes,

* mujhe miss mat karna

* dhyan rakhna apna

* don't worry too much about me....

Demon within me: "Come on! just few more minutes to hear all these rants." Even the berserk within is afraid of good byes.

I, certainly hate these good bye hugs. As lame as Most Desirable with Sammy Grey-balls.

I could hardly keep my concentration on her voice. It was her eyes what I was glued to.

Somewhere on a giant television screen came a loan ad; "Jab ghar mein pada ho Sona tab kahe ko rona". It was a cacophony that marred me.

Arrghhh - I'm gonna blast. Promptly I said: "Ok !! Bbye.".

Demon within me: "loser !!! you shouldn't have said this, wrong timing, teri toh lag gayi @#$%."

Nikks: "Accha Bbye... accha apna dhyaan rakhna". Oops she does it again. "Yeah, Nikks!! I'll take care myself", I think I just left, thinking now, I feel I should have stayed for a while.

There she goes......I feel knocked out.

Back ground: awwwwww !!!

planes ki गर्जन !!!

Damn !!! I hate this. I hate Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jaayenge too and I definitely hate kids (a different story, later!)

I'm all alone in the cab !!! Lets go driver.

Sunday Afternoon 01:30 PM:

Galleria, Subway:

Eating has always been my favourite past time. When I get bored, I eat. When I'm sad, I eat. When I'm happy, I eat. Technically I eat whenever, wherever whatever comes my way.

Today, the check list had ticks on all the boxes. I still didn't feel like eating.

Demon within: Wooohhh !!!! I couldn't control lets hog, lets attack, lets screw this sandwich.

So I eat. The bread seemed dry, as dry as those female models beauty creams ads, before they haven';t found that magical cream....and coke actually shook my belly.

"dhin ta chika, din the chika ...... he he he he". A famous song from ready almost broke my admiration to a void.

I could well see a morbid fat guy with 3 foot long subs attending the call.

मोटू मास्टर है टोटल डिसास्टर ! I could well relate to this song from Udaan movie.

Amidst all the incoherent thoughts rolling my head, a glitter caught my attention, lightening struck my eyes. Actually nothing as such happened, it was a call on my mobile, ahaan..Dr. Ashish Calling !!!


to be continued.............

It feels......!!!

It feels as

if a meteorite hit me,

I just had a stroke,

the ginger tea tasted as bad as those egg whites today.

it feels as if, the berserk within me just cried for a while,

it feels the void just went a little more vile,

The headache was never such bad, the chasm felt never so deep,

It seems I'm missing you,most certainly I'm.

It feels as

if the satire is winning,

it seems I want to read Shakespere,

It seems I missed a few  beats,

the maggi has gone bland and chicken tikka seems tasteless

The morning was never so breezy, though it was missing the pun.

Aloof I lie down and the TV seemed bored.

Might be it wanted to start a conversation.....

It seems I'm missing you, most certainly I'm.

When will it strike 5 ?

When would it be 5 ?
I yawned while sending out a mail,
My work speed seems synonymous to snail.

A near flash on my screen, 'you've got mail'

It says,Sweets at me desk.. please help yourself.

My calorie meter is just about to explode,

I can read my manager's eyes, I could well forebode.

I can see few sharing gossips,

few competing with desktop screen...

And then I stare back to the taskbar watch and stare at the window,

Wonder, When would it be 5 ? sigh.....

I can well see a cappuccino turn icy,

I can see rejoices on the conference call,

I can see discussions for releases, few tense faces on the ground,

I can hear guitar ringing down my ears.

Here comes Aerosmith, dream on o'dear.

Thou shall be penalised someday, somewhere....

I turn back to the wall clock, its 5... is it a dream, is it a nap?
No its 5 PM...Sharp

Hurray !! I pack my bags up and start down to walk...

I realize then and there loads of stare seem to stalk, 

O'dear O'dear !!! You have just seen the Singapore Clock.
sigh...

P.S. The ode is a true story of a poor soul on one of the Monday blues.

       Re-written for an internal organization magazine :)

क्यूँ ये शोर और हल्ला !!!

क्यूँ है  ये शोर और हल्ला,

क्यूँ मची है ये धमा चौकड़ी  ?

उन्माद की चादर में क्यूँ सिमट रहा है, ये देश सारा!!

होली नहीं है फिर भी क्यूँ रंगे दिख रहे है चेहरे सारे .........

पतझड़ के मौसम में , पेड़ भी क्यूँ लेह लाहा रहे ?

पटाखों की लड़ी चल रही , रोकेट दिख रहे आसमानों में,

ढोल नगाड़े जमके बज रहे, मिठाई  बँट रही है  क्यूँ ?

हर्षित मुख और तरंगित स्वर, गा रहे क्यूँ जन गन मन !!!

ना  कोई लीडर आया यहाँ पर ना  कोई त्यौहार !!!

उत्सव का माहोल है बना, हर विचिलित मन है उल्लास .

कटुता नहीं क्यूँ वाणी में, क्यूँ नहीं दिखती गालियाँ !

क्यूँ सब है गले मिल रहे , बाँट रहे हैं बधाइयाँ ?

How I became JACK-ASS !!!!

Year 1999:
Somewhere in Lucknow, Uttar Pradesh.
India had experienced some finest moments in Services Industry, Infosys was on the advent of touching a billion dollar revenue, Y2K euphoria had started to build upon, adolescence was about to explore out mall culture, Shahid Afridi was still celebrating his 18th birthday, Ganguly had yet not taken over the reins of captaincy from our little Master, Twenty20 was not even a concept, BJP had smacked lot of asses around,Indian Army was too was smacking lots of asses...rather screwing. Indian automobile industry was witnessing a revelation......A change....


Unaware I stood as thin as a scarecrow, Story about me.... How I became JACK-ASS !!!
India had just found their love for bikes. Scooters were on the edge of an oblivion, and there stood my dad's Bajaj Super. Humaara Bajaj.
I was fascinated by the whole aura this scooter carried. I grew by it, nothing better than was the sight of my dad tilting it to an angle of 60 degrees sideways before start, hopping up and down to kick and there it starts. Race for a while before you zoom on to it. There was a desire to one day start my dad's scooter and take over those reins just like Ganguly. Yeah yeah... I still didn't know how to drive a scooter. A self proclaimed fear had engrossed me.


Watching my other friends around driving their dads' scooters disgusted me, that too a Bajaj Super. "Dude, how could you not drive a bajaj super ? Its the finest", Tunnu said. (God I wish he scores a dud in Maths.... 2 years later he did scrore a zero in boards). I stood as stone faced as Deepika Padukone in Dum Maaro Dum song. "Arrey itna bhi koi challanging nahi hai....bas race taan dene ka !! ". Waseem said boastingly. (His Dad owned Bajaj Cub, जिसे  ये शेर की तरह लखनऊ की सड़कों पे दौडाता था !).


Finally, I gathered my guts, getting into my red boxers, deceitfully taking the keys of Humaara Bajaj took the prized possession of the super. I almost dragged the scooter 500 meters, until I was sure I'm out of of Dad's reach. Chittu was waiting, he took this as a great oppurtunity to boast of his teaching skills. Final prayers made, I could hear Shaktiman saying in my ears, dude you are screwed !!!. I can hear Chittu saying "Yes, we can !!!".  
Intricacies explained, Tilting done just the way I had watched uncles around had done. I kicked, nopes It didn't start. One , two and three, still no luck.....I could see passerby smiling. An uncle commented out, "अच्छा नया नया सीख रहे हो, हे हे हे ! " (Darn you this was getting obnoxious, he still reminds me of Sidhu popping idioms). Chittu pitches in...... BRRRRRRRRRR. There it starts just like the smooth Coke ad. 


Chittu hops in. Off we go.......Hurray I'm driving this. Here I'm, this is me..... I could well see a Chandrachur singh within me. Then suddenly something unexpected happened.... A bull/cow DAMN...... All I could see was a black bull/cow (I can't figure out which one of that. Chittu says it was a goat). I can't hear anything. I can't feel anything.Someone shouts  "Brake.... you donkey... $%^%&^&^ अबे ब्रेक लगा  !!!" . I lift my hand in the air try to reach out to the brakes down....what the f@#$ !!! . 


Too late !!! Humaara Bajaj, Chittu and I were seen in a drainage. BLEED BLACK !!! Ahh its 11 out here time to go. Long story cut short.....
1. The back kicks gave me sore foot. I limped for almost 2 weeks.
2. Chittu gets bruised  and bandaged, I happened to get bandaged in after repercussions    (For each dent.... My dad dented me equally).
3. "गधा है ये !!". I made you proud dad.


That was just the start. Humaara bajaj and I never looked backed from there. My dad later followed the suit and bought a bike. I got humaara bajaj ! It stood tall in the ravages in years to come by..... Some damn guy later stole his stand. By the time it was sold, all that was left was an engine and a seat. It fetched my Dad 1500 bucks. My dad was as happy as ever smiling Uday Chopra. 


Humaara Bajaj is no more with us. Later, 'Buland bharat ki nayee tasveer' was replaced by none other than fast zooming energy efficient bikes. 
I finally managed to learn driving in 2001. Thats story for another day....Waseem crashed landed on an overbridge and that day I knew I was a sadist. Chittu never pursued maths, never gave a driving lesson and never piggy backed on my scooter. 


And thats how I became JACK-ASS.

The pursuit of completion !!!

After years of volatility around my lame thoughts there is something significant I figured out of myself. 

I have ADD. Before you could jump onto ridiculous conclusions....(what the f#$%?). Its.......

ADD stands for Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder . A kind of condition which magnifies my lameness, leveraging it 4 times. Leaving aside the in depth analysis of what actually could go wrong, I spill out the main crux. 

Under ADD a lazy bum suffers from ....

a.  hyperactivity (in contrast to what a lame ass I am.)

b.  the co-existence of attentional problems

I still remember how our biology teacher instructing us on dissecting a cockroach, talks about separating exoskeleton from the damn abdomen. Little did I know the abdomen was that of a a cockroach and not mine. The rest they say is history..... I left biology in class 10th. (No looking back!)

Forgetting a song in midst of stage performance because my eyes caught attention of a cute looking girl. (She's is my wife now (GRINS....)), and writing a thought within a thought making thought a mess... Priceless !

The incoherence, I reach at times is a feat too trivial. My thoughts too convoluted as our Didi's Rail budget speech, my dreams as messy as plot in UTRAN (Kya hoti Utran.... Please tell me...! ), my words as retarded as the dialogues of movie Maqsad (a 1984 classic starring Rajesh Khanna, Jitendra, the movie had double meaning dialogues for no reason).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K8bcXSYm_t0

Amidst the pallu scoops and palti hits doing rounds in my cerebrum, my hyperactivity still seems a misnomer if you look at my face. 

I can't recall when all this started, but I recognized ADD when I had trouble switching over channels to watch Jhatka with Zor and Dadagiri (I was wipedout). Attention problems were quite evident. There is nothing exciting than watching girls chewing pan and spitting on boys and bimbos and babas splashing waters around. I just couldn't stop hopping from one channel to other.

Now I get it, a Donkey with a difference. Whoa,  I changed the GAME.

Why did Anil Kapoor shave his chest ? Honestly, I don't have an answer to that. Ranting in midnight, you can't expect me to answer such bouncers.What I do know is why Sehwag tries to dance on "upar se aane ka, neeche dabaane ka......" .He was learning UPAR CUT.

The quest to have dosage of tranquility still remains.... The law of coexistence says "you can't choose both A and B, where A and B can be any of the tangible/intangible assets". 

For me A and B still create trouble. From classics like Gunda to Loha, choosing Piyush Chawala over Ravindra Jadeja (has Jadeja got his name changed ? I think so), Five point someone over one night at call center. Well..... (yawn)..

I feel sleepy... enough to keep my pseudo readers busy.

Ahh yes.... the stage performance ended pretty good as the other singer started from where I left and I still can't bring this post to a logical end. 

Carpe diem

I had a dream....

I smell of ebullience,

I see smiles all over,

Silhoutte I bode...

Charms me to stop by,

This aura beckons me to peek through the window.....

Well, what is this place called, 

I sound rhetoric, Am I into a dream ?

What is this mystery,

Why no one in distraught,

Why no signs of despairity,

They touch me but I dont feel pain,

A bliss kissed my cheeks and went by,

This surreality hits me,

Not an inch of imperfection around,

This seems like an opulent dream.

Well then I should have woken up by then.....

yeah yeah......................

It was a dream..... Lame donkey's lame dream....

Thoughts take you places, was this foresight or my figments of imagination,
proving yet again that I'm a donkey.

P.S. inspired by the emminent poet's unforgettable poetry 

"Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high"

आज फिर घर जाने का मन है !

शायद आज, फिर घर जाने का मन है,
किवाड़ घर का  खुला होगा ,
पापा वही बैठे चाय पी रहे होंगे,
वो अशोक के पेड़ पर कोयल कुछ बोलती होगी,
नीला आकाश अभी भी स्थिर,
छत पर मेरी राह देखता होगा,

आज फिर घर जाने का मन है.

सोचता हूँ उन लम्हों को,
जब धुप सुबह अंगडाई लेते घर आ जाती थी,
वो मंदिर की घंटी कल कल की कम्पन् धुनी रामाती थी,
दूर कहीं मौलवी की अज़ान सुन जब मैं आखें मसलता उत्ठ्ता था,
टेबल लेम्प स्विच ऑन कर, पढ़ते पढ़ते सोता था.
शायद आज, फिर घर जाने का मन है,

क्या आज भी पुलिया पे रंग वही खिलते हैं,
चाय के प्याले, मंद मुस्कान और किस्से कहानियों के दौर क्या आज भी वहां चलते हैं,
बारिश की उन बूँदें क्या आज भी वहां उमड़ती हैं,
उन मीठी बातों पर क्या आज भी कोई हंसी पिरोता है,
उन फीकी गलियों में क्या आज कोई शोर भरता है....
चलो, देख आता हूँ आज, विचिलित मन आज टोह लेना चाहता है,
क्योंकि आज, फिर घर जाने का मन है . 

ये ५ कब बजेंगे !!!!

इस कांच के पिंजरे की चौदहवीं मंजिल की खिड़की से बाहर देख ,

रोज सुबह एक ख़याल दिल में आता है ,

वो छोटी सी चिडया पंख फैलाई नीले आसमान में उडती है...

पास की डेस्क पर पडा बेचैन मोबाइल रह रह कर वाइब्रेट हो रहा है ,

मिठाई की ललक से उठकर दूर की डेस्क पर जा कर लोग फीकी सी बधाई बाँट रहे हैं

कुछ मायूस उँगलियाँ , ज़िन्दगी का गम जावा कोड में दर्ज कर रहीं हैं

कुछ आउटिंग तो , कुछ बिचिंग कर बोझ कम कर रहे हैं ,

दिल में एक ख्वाइश सी जगी है , पलकें भारी और सांस थम रही हैं

और मैं कभी स्क्रीन को तो कभी टास्क बार की घडी को देखता हूँ

इंतज़ार करता हूँ , की ये ५ कब बजेंगे !

कॉफ़ी ठंडी  हो  चली , डेस्क  के  कोने  पर  सुस्त  पड़ी  है

ज़िन्दगी की फिलोसफी  कह कहों में कहीं  फ़सी  है 

दीवारों के  पोस्टर उन्माद  की  चादरों से  ढकें  है ,

पर  व्याकुल मन  डेस्कटॉप पर  पड़े फोल्डर्स छान  रहा है ,

ये रंग सारे स्थिर से  क्यूँ हो  चलें ,पता नहीं
शायद  इनको भी थोडा छलकने  का मन हो.

और मैं, कभी आसमान तो कभी टास्कबार की घडी को देखता हूँ .

सोचता हूँ , ये  ५ कब  बजेंगे !

P.S. Thanks to my dear friend. Mr Yogi. For his unending and unwanted inputs. This poetry wouldn't have been this good, had you not interfered in my thoughts. Also thanks to Balika Vadhu, without her I wouldn't have written sob sob sob..... !!!!

arrgh.. damn, no more than this.

FAKING NEWS: The Return of KAALA BANDAR

An incident in my life worth mentioning.....

DISCLAIMER: All characters in here are non-fictional in characters.....and the incident impacted their lives gravely.

Dolly : our Maid.
Chittu: Not so best roomie of mine.
Me: your very own Lame Donkey

KB: Kaala Bandar

FAKING NEWS:

Dolly mopping floors in her regular dashing style, I pushing weights around, Chittu for a change waking up early(as early as 0630 AM) and here in front of me stood a 3.5 feet long monkey. A wide eyed, two carnivorous tooth protruding out giving here a DRACULA look. Dolly as always got excited.... "Bhaiya Bhaiya Bandar !!!". yeah..yeah, I CAN SEE THAT !!!

Straight I pulled out my BAT. He charged and I ran out of the house, rescuing DOLLY (Dolly meanwhile had an expression as if saying to monkey "yes !! monkey man, I can bear you a KAALA BANDAR JUNIOR). Under Seized !!! One damn monkey has under seized our house. This monkey got balls to throw all of us out of the house.

MR. KB now opens refrigerator. charging me in between. eats eggs,......cut to DOLLY. "BHAIYA BHAIYA BANDAR, andar jaaney do.......humko". :| He's ate eggs, drank milk.....moves to kitchen...its turn for pulses. We went in.....he charges us again he takes one egg roams around like a free willy ("An egg in my hand, I feel like a MAN").... the stalemate continues..... and then all of a sudden he leaves. We barge in and I had a smile as if I had beaten arses of terrorist. (Guess I should get some kind of bravery award for the rescue.)

Kaala Bandar finally left. But he taught this lame donkey some important lessons/observations

1. Bandar's are non veggies. damn...He ate my eggs...and it hurts. (I mean the poultry farm ones)
2. Dolly mopped the floor with the same cloth with which she cleared the broken eggs. So whole of my apartment is mesmerized by fragrance of eggs.
3. This one is free from my side... Monkeys have balls as big as size of "HAAPUS MANGOES"!!!

P.S. leaving you with one of the posters which was released by our own Delhi police when Monkey Man prowled on streets of Delhi.

Ranting up at midnight

I have been tired of these intermittent write ups. Trust me, nothing frustrates more than being intermittent in something you really want to pursue religiously. A prolonged  break, perhaps from everything I love (:|). So what was I up to in last few months, well I'm sure none of you would be interested in spilling out what a lame donkey does, when more importantly Mr. Rahul is getting wooed by 15 brightest and perfect brides of India. When balika vadhu is putting on ounces of fat (read overfed) during those strenuous workout sessions... oops I meant shootouts, when some prominent news channels show the wry smile on Mr. Rathore's face even pestering it to an extent of preservation, when chota family pack bachaan is trying hard to become the next superhero Mr. Bingo, and when Mr Veer wearing those peach coloured jeans in 18th century is shown pulling out balls of  atrocious Britishers weighing 5 kg each. (read "5 ser gosht"), When skimpily covered cleavages, forgettable,adorably sweet women try their luck being DESI.
The DONKEY can be easily forgotten amidst all the spice that surrounds us today.
Still this donkey opines, that the world will be a better place if asses like me rant over at a consistent pace. This time its the media which has caught my attention. And this logically explains the gaudy premise I had set up above earlier. I'm intrigued by the behaviour of weird channels presenting us with as weird soaps and undies, spicy news right from cataclysmic results of big bang experimentation with repercussions felt worldwide such as "TABAAHI.

The donkey within me is intrigued about the way our current media perceives things around.  I'm parched  from some good news or is there any ?

What's the difference ?

DISCLAIMER: Before reading on, ONE plain thing, My thoughts are purely based upon my perception of the world around. I'm not a psychologist, counseller or an acclaimed philospher. As, promised, its some lame GYAAN, straight from lame donkey's world.
WARNING: A LONG POST !!!

What makes us different ? what makes us different in characters, articulation, a few offbeat from others, few ambivalent, giving us colours ranging from white to grey ? What makes the same set of people respond all together with ineptitude, fear, happiness yet differ in abilities and success. Why intelligence is never matched with success. Why some business go down while few rise to success?

Hold on to these thoughts, I'll come back to them in a while. It has intrigued me a lot, when I see best of breed brains biting the dust, and simultaneously watching a few,  average ones, climbing up the success ladder. I'm in no mood to generalise turn of events and neither I want to demean the mediocrity (I belong to the same class). Though, I felt there was enough on my mind to create a new post.

I might sound rhetoric, but eversince my chilhood I saw myself, making those maxima minima curves and differential always coming down to a damned '0'.Frome whatever I recollect my life was that of a meiocre who could pass on the subjects but never knew how to score as my counterparts did. I was confused, afraid and always wondered how these damned guys conquered forts and pillars, which I couldn't. My plethora doesn't end here, My teenage blues continuesd without any respite, college days got even worse, watching my best buddies scaling new heights, whereas my scoresheets the same  leading the way to become "A LAME DONKEY". Few thought I was talented, Inquisitve was I, which talent were they refering too. The question that stood by n large that time. How to make oneself intelligent? I guess the enigma still remains the same, though the question got tweaked: How to be successful? and then came another one. how do you measure success ? so to its entirety, in managerial terms the "BIGGER PICTURE" is what makes ones successful and if you are one how do one gauge wheteher one is successful.

What I percieve is success can't be measured, It comes to you for whatever you set forth ahead. As I said in my earlier post  success depends on "YOUR DREAM". It can be anything from becoming a chai walla who leads on to become a millionaire to representing your country on field for twenty years and still cherishing each day living it. I managed to survive my sophomore, adolesence and managed to get a job in an MNC earning a decent salary. "MY DREAM", NO....NO.... NO....NO....NEVER.... To be honest I had a dream of making big like all others, I dreamt of earning a good salary like all others, I wanted to have girl of my dreams like all humans do, landing into a decent job and perhaps a very few items that remain on the checklist such as , getting a new car, a club membership, a dream holiday on a foreign land, and marrying my dream woman. So am I really happy, thats a million dollar question ? I still don't have an answer to all these, but what I do know, these are the same dreams that a normal middle class human dreams off. All through out these years I saw many of these best of brains falling apart, not quite making into the big league, and many a ones flew by  like a rocket but burst out without a fuss, whereas many who silently rode to the path of glory. I must admit here that this can't be true for all bright spots around yet, I percieve most of them collapsed somewhere in mundane activities surrounding ourseleves without even realising it(More on it later). Also how far you go is defined by how well you envisage your ultima. How well conjured are your thoughts. Abstract it may sound but somewhere we all dreamt of making it big into the elitest of elite, still most of us failed (I'm sorting this for myself too).
RULE NO. 1: Dream Big if you want to make it big, which might not be different from others, but has a different perception.

"Distinction is the consequence, never the object of a great mind"

                                                              Washington allston

Moving on, the distinction clearly lies in the attitude which we all find hard to sustain, the problem starts when big fat dreams are blocked, strooled into a deep chasm and lid closed for ever. We all go through this phase. The instant when this happens is when are dreams get a reality check. Few improvise, few still want to be in the surreal world. Now improvisation , is the caveat, the erosion takes palces at this moment when we all find it hard to cope with societal norms, get a job, marry your girl, money.... Its ubiquitous. Alas, unknowningly we have packed our chimera nicely, and kept it in our store house to open it up later. A phase i perceive where our identities start dimnishing, what was a proud baton for us once has now been turned into a rag. We start making compromises to ourselves, to our destiny.  the point I try to make here is not of earning you bread and butter, but of consiging to an oblivion. Precariously we all let our imagination erode ourselves.
 "There are certain inevitabilites............You'll grow older, you will be forced to compromisein ways you never imagined"

-Amartya Sen

Alas, few more have bitten the dust. If you survive, congrats, you move onto next phase.

Dedicated to my DAD

Because you were there.......
I do remember, when I was a kid, standing in those lonesome premises,
You came from nowhere, and treated me with those icy orange sticks,
When you took me out for those breezy walks,
When you inhibited my fears from ghosts and nightmares,
When I cried the whole night and you held me in those arms,
It’s still all afresh; it’s still all grey,
When you helped me climb that bicycle,
When I twisted my wrist and you gave me a bear hug.
I still remember, those wary nights, when I clasped you hard and you comforted me with love and warmth.
You stood by me, when I failed; you remained awake all night near that hospital bed.
You gave me money veiling it from mom; you became my best friend when we played in the dorm.
You taught me to stand by myself; you enunciated in that broken English to guide me through.
Those weird math classes when you beat me black and blue, But I still owe a billion thanks to you,
I remember,
My apprehensions, my skepticism, flew by when you were around.
Your smile soothed my injuries; I flocked around and flourished in your sunshine.
In the morning, when you brought me tea, and you prepared my uniform to set me free.
You got me quill, you mentored dreams, you taught me its not impossible as the world seems….
I owe you my life, I owe you my dreams, I owe you my story,
Perhaps this world of mine would not have been so opulent, had you not there been…….
Thanks Dad, for being there.

Any man can be a father. It takes someone special to be a dad.
- Anonymous

Rediscovering Myself !!!

"Know what's weird? Day by day, nothing seems to change. But pretty soon, everything's different."
- Bill Waterson (creator Calvin and Hobbes)

Indeed agreeing in tandem to the weird epiphany sighted above, that seems to continue to the eternity.
I don’t want to sound nostalgic, but perhaps the it’s ubiquitous to find everyone around having a trip down the memory lane, smiling back on those sweet sour memoirs, some beautiful, elegant, some notoriously high, overshadowed , poignant and considerably coming in all kind of colours and flavours. Woah………. And you wish not to come back out of those times.

Our ideas mutate with time. Yes, I reiterate "mutate", a fact we as human beings would seldom realise. Trying to cocoon ourselves in comfort and soundness of societal norms which bind at least ourselves. Perhaps that’s what we should do, right?

Rhetoric I may sound, but isn't it the way we have dwelled ourselves all through the journey, what we call 'life' ? Isn't it what we have always done……? Just by simply turning a blind eye to a fight on street, passing by without even listening to the plight of the destitue, not even once standing for a cause that might help someone in need, and I can sight another hundred examples which prove the whole situation as a mere farce created by us to cocoon ourselves from ravages of life.

Certainly nothing seems to change but its generic the viewpoint of us which changes the contour all around. What we had perceived once has changed and perhaps dying a slow death, an euthanasia given by the homo sapients to their dreams which they thought would would change if not the world a particular section of the society. Alas, I being their latest victim.

The reveries that once was a part of my day to day activity, certainly has lost its heat when the apt time came in to realise them.
If not at the epitome of success, I still find myself in comforter of a good job, a good salary, and certainly I cannot complaint on the front what my good education has given to me; And certainly that’s what I was supposed to do, isn't it ?
In literal terms, I nearly botched up my aspirations, gave them a reason to procrastinate and flush out ideas which I could have pursued long ago. Its common to lose out streak of what we have been doing, and justify it by saying why complicate matters when all I've done till now reaps me benefits walking straight. So, really having a different perception complicating matters ? Yes, I agree it does complicate the whole aura of my life, an amenable thought that zeal's me in an out is; have I done things which could have lead to chasing my aspirations? Yes I have but still, (a room for butt) I find myself too distracted to really pull myself out of the mundane activities I do and complete what once I thought would revolutionize, if not the whole world, at least a section of downtrodden. What if I could have performed a rock show somewhere around the campus and formed my own band. What if I could have authored a book, become an entrepreneur, directed a movie ;), a photographer, part of dramatics and the checklist seems endless. The answer to all these is too plebeian and hypothetical to write, It’s a big 'no' because I never even tried doing any of these. Most of us don't, lets say even confer to what they have lost. I perceive them as zombies flocking in faithless communities of societal (read suicidal) science.
"There mind proliferated with someone else's ideas, their souls auctioned long ago and ideas someone else' property……" notably said by Amartya Sen.
Its enervating yet it’s a prerogative to put in efforts for what you have envisioned long ago, find yourself chasing them up, living for your aspirations, creating what none might have done, and perhaps changing the world around as what you have perceived, and envisaging something you once hope would bring about change. Its challenging, but isn't it what once we thought life is all about, living those challenges every day rather than incarcerating one self in faithless things around ?
That’s a question you should ask yourself. A never-ending quest, that changes the course of life that contains nothing surreal but your dreams once you envisaged with your eyes opened and vowed to realise them.
"You got a dream. You got to protect it. People can't do something themselves, they want to tell you can't do it. If you want something, go get it. Period."

P.S: Yes, and as far as I'm concerned, this part of my life is called "Rediscovering myself !!!". Happy reading