the derelict..

One last time..

2012-01-29T01:21:00.005+05:30

29/1/2012, Sunday

Gingerly forced into it,
by obscene temporal conjunctions,
I went to her again..

On a chilly winter night,
life knocked at my doors,
she kissed me wild,
she took me high,
her teeth dug into my neck,
and her nails made staircase
impressions in my flesh.
She wrote me down
with her brute ire,
into the annals of nothingness.

Gingerly forced into it,
by obscene temporal conjunctions,
I went to her again..

I don't know what 've I written and why 've I done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts. I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? .. I never did.. and I still don't..

I just happened to pass by the WALL !

2011-06-27T01:10:00.003+05:30

27/6/2011, Monday..

On an old dilapidated wall, near the very busy bus stand of a city called Dinanagar, that was covered with moistened smoke and grime, there were two things that stood out ( hey.. the description was meant for the wall and not for the city !). On one side of the wall, there was a poster of a movie that called itself 'Pyaasa Mard' and on the other side something was written. Out of this 'something' what I could make out was "the 100th son". Now someone, with an acute acclivity towards editing, must have walked in and adroitly placed "of a bitch" after the remains of the original imprints. Ok, so these were the two things, according to the poor old 'me', that stood out on 'our' wall. Also, between the things that supposedly stood out, there was a poster of our very own 'youth-icon' Mr. Raul Vinci (oops ! I mean Rahul Gandhi). Now, trust me, I didn't interpret anything out of it and nor do I want you to use your brains and interpret anything. And also, this isn't a concocted story, but a mere observation ! (Trust me !).

Now, the common man with all his commonness kept walking past that wall, busy in his daily struggle for subsistence, without paying any heed to things that stand out for people like me. The only thing that the male laity (me included) looked at, while passing by, was the lead lady of 'Pyaasa Mard' who had a real horny expression on her face (could have given Jenna Jameson a run for her money, going by her facial expressions ! I am not really a connoisseur in these matters though !). The lady on the poster of 'Pyaasa Mard' caught my eye as she had her eyes fixed on our youth icon who was dressed in a traditional kurta-pyajama looking elegant while flaunting his trademark dimpled smile. I had my sympathies for the male lead of our movie, who, even after being without clothes (well almost), couldn't catch the eye-balls of the lady he had in his arms. Anyway, thats the way it is nowadays I guess ! And who cares about my guesses anyway !

And what about our impresario, our editor, who added the necessary spice to "the 100th son" ? I heard he got a red beating from the police for his attempted contempt of lineage (oh ! I mean Law !).

Q 1) Do we have anything to be learnt from the above ?
Ans.) NO

Q 2) From a deontological point of view maybe ?
Ans.) ABSOLUTELY NOTHING !

The posters on the wall changed after a few days but the writing was on the wall as I just happened to pass by the WALL again !

I don't know what 've I written and why 've I done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts. I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? .. I never did.. and I still don't..

A trivial errand..

2011-02-15T15:48:00.006+05:30

15/2/2011, Tuesday

Well awake before the dawn
strikes the gong of his
diurnal struggle for subsistence,
he contemplates the silence,
in those repugnant 'illiterate' thoughts.

Those jaded octogenarian eyes,
retrace the 'salutary' fringes,
hesitating to look into the face
of the murky shadows.

Stealthily he regresses to a time
of his youth,
leaving his flaccid present in the lurch,
comforting himself in those days of yore,
when he was a 'believer',
a believer hardcore !

Squatting by the roadside,
draped in a 'charitable' blanket,
covered in dust and grime,
he'll be selling tobacco in sometime.

With deathly rumblings,
turning his 'boisterous' act
into a pantomime,
he waits for 'life' to begin,
for one last time..

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts. I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...

The 7:02 metro..

2010-11-07T00:07:00.003+05:30

7/11/2010, Sunday...

The silver coloured, metallic precinct,
pulls away at 7:02 every morning.
Sometimes I let it go,
and sometimes it leaves me behind.

The souls I see over there,
are like famished beasts.
Laconic are their spaces,
and seldom they leave any kind of human traces.

In a race against the ticking clock,
they try to seize time by the forlock.
With a trivial tinge in their voice,
they sing the banal verses
of spontaniety, of choice,
and presciently rejoice.

Flowing in the deluge of ordinariness,
the haggard habitues,
trying hard to do what they are told to,
toil hard, to set foot onto,
the only thing they do impromptu.

That silver coloured, metallic precinct,
pulls away at 7:02 every morning.
Sometimes I let it go,
and sometimes it leaves me behind,
and sometimes like a lyrical lunge,
of an emotionless song,
it takes me along...

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts. I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...

A mouthful of deadly life..

2010-08-11T22:48:00.007+05:30

11/8/2010, Wednesday...

When the strident creatures were
feeding on the silence,
of a rainy winter night,
he walked past the shadow
of an old groggy lamp-post.

Soaked in an unknown pain,
his face sheltered, long streaks of grime.
Walking along the long road,
to the incognito tunes of those sloshing drops of rain,
swallowing heavily,
he tried to free himself
from the grasp of a sacrosanct chain.

Along that long road,
in the proximity of a crossroad,
and under the only sky star,
there was a baptismal public bar.

There, the cult of happy men,
celebrated the ethereal felicity
of a fluid substance.

His mug was filled to the brim,
they say, he drank all of it and
died in a following strife.

"He used to drink too much", they said,
too much of a fluid substance,
a fluid substance, they called life.

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts. I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...

A watery eyed dreamer..

2010-05-05T22:36:00.003+05:30

5/5/2010, Wednesday..

When the remains of the dawned sun,
that now shone on the other side,
were engendering perfunctory glances,
a cloud skipped past
the cemetery bound light.

The wind, being a dab at whispering,
dabbed the tympanum of his deaf ears,
re-kindling his relapse,
into the relegated slumber,
of a wistful relict.

The clemency on his inside's outside
had a devious premonition.
The old yellow annals of his past life
were flipping past.

With some contingent cargo, loaded
in his sack
and with very little prescience
on his back,
with tactile libidos and
and tacit dreams
gunning down his sense of being,
that notoriously halcyonic reality
slaked itself on his vitality.

In a moment that came and went,
a tear trickled down
his eyes like a gleam,
as the watery eyed dreamer,
dreamt of his dream..

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...

White..

2010-03-19T23:12:00.004+05:30

19/3/2010, Friday...

A newborn is draped in it
and so is a departing soul.
A fairy adorns it
and sometimes even a feary ghoul.

Is White a colour ?
or is it an absence of it ?

It's a microcosm of the gritty truth
and even covers up a groggy lie.
It is for the down-trodden
and even for perfidious snobs.

Is White a colour ?
or is it an absence of it ?

With some colours of temperence
mixed with some hue of indulgence,
With some bold colours
mixed with some coy hue
And with some colours of joy
mixed with some hue of a cry..

Is White a colour ?
or is it an absence of it ?

Is White a colour ?
or is it an absence of it ?

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...

A Reservationary Revolution...

2010-03-11T11:54:00.012+05:30

11/3/2010, Thursday...

In the past few days I came across some of these words/phrases like 'holding the democracy to ransom', 'empowerment', 'enlightenment', etc, etc, etc. once too often. All these celestial words were being thrown around by the media in context to the Women's Reservation Bill.

With a plethora of reservations already in place and with some knocking on the doors , reservation, quantitatively ofcourse but even qualitatively, is big in our country. We are a country where the Chief Justice of the apex court belongs to a 'scheduled caste'( something to be proud of ? maybe yes.. ) and where his children are still very much entitled for all the reservations (which our constitution 'reserves' for people who are backward) that'll help them climb up the acclivity. But then you can't do much about it. The cornucopia of parliamentary gluttons have been working all the way for the welfare of the backward classes. Haven't they ??

I don't really understand the gung-ho relating to the Women's Resevation Bill. I kinda find this bill on reservation, the least to go mad about. I mean there cannot be any harm in allocating some seats to women where they aren't being represented commensurately. Although, all this reservation's gonna do is bring in some more Rabri Devis into politics and with almost every gold-digger politician being a happily married man, there's nothing that this bill can do to turn the tide on its head. But atleast it 'sounds' somewhat reformative to the core.

But then Mr. Mulayam Singh Yadav( i kinda find his name quite funny) and the ever so, 'apparently', amoral Mr. Lalu Prasad Yadav, are vehemently opposing this bill and some of their MPs held 'the democracy to ransom' a couple of days back. I saw them holding 'the democracy to ransom' with their hands on TV. It was farcical to say the least. Last week I heard Mr. Lalu telling the media that he was opposing the bill because it would be a sacrifice with the quality of the parliamentarians. Quality my foot, as if they are any better today, and you can bet a million bucks that it won't be worse after the bill is passed. But a couple of days later the two Yadavs were demanding that the reservation should be given to backward women and muslim women and if the government made the relevant changes they'll support the bill. That was like politicians, I must say, taking a U turn all of a sudden, having a change of mind and turning it inside out overnight and all that for the welfare and empowerment of 'backward' women! This altruistic suffragism almost killed me!
These MPs who held 'the democracy to ransom' were 'physically' removed from the upper house of the parliament, and rightly so.

Wish we could 'physically' remove all of them and put some quality in over there.

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...

The night is setting in..

2010-02-05T11:10:00.002+05:30

5/2/2010, Friday...

The night is setting in,
grappling with,
the day that was
and prising
the day that will be..

The tickings of time,
are changing gears,
entering inside those ears
and bypassing those eyes.

Outside that door of yours,
a creeper might be creeping up..
desperate to feed on some life
or running from some unsatisfied hungry knife..

The old watchman,
with the weight of his past
on his drooping shoulders,
walks past,
a heap of boulders.
The shadow of the watchman
remained on none, but one,
the one lying at the bottom of the heap,
the one that’ll go under the grinder first,
and the one that’ll die cheap..

Beyond the horizon,
in those higher echelons,
right there,
something is changing..

The night is setting in..
The night is setting in..

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...

Some grass in some grass...

2010-01-29T01:24:00.005+05:30

29/1/2010, Friday...

Squatting by the fire,
with my base on an old scooter tyre,
in a lonely winter night,
I long for some grass in this grass,
some, to levitate, this paramour body
and some for my eerie grey mass
that masters all of my fracas.

The seconds inside that tick-tock,
are swirling and running a race.
"You are a disgrace..."
they yell, on my face.
I wistfully wish,
I could kill 'time' to death,
but then, only my next breath
reminds me of my immortal mortalness
and of my mortgaged life,
a better half of which,
i lost in an amicable strife..

Somewhere in the silence of this night,
lies a loud trance.

I long for some grass,
some for this paramour body
and some for my eerie grey mass..

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...

An errand..

2010-01-25T22:24:00.009+05:30

25/1/2010, Monday...

In a shivering cold night,
with the moon shining bright,
my shadow started pulling away from me..
Along with it, I was dragged..
I tried hard to catch up,
but the pace was just too fast
and I didn’t have it in me to last..

I looked at my shadow,
but it didn’t look back at me
and I kept looking at it,
all along the transit.
Swathed in some tears and some sweat,
I was running out of breath..

A dusky dawn came with a dagger
and bludgeoned the shadow,
with that hallowed ‘serene’ swagger.

I collapsed then and there.
As I lay in a pool of ‘comfortably soft’ marshy mud,
my heart stopped beating the leftover blood.

Some sages picked up my carcass
and arranged for my funeral..
The pyre was ready
and so was the fire..
After the firework started,
the sages departed.

Along came another shivering cold night,
With the moon shining bright..
My shadow was still there,
and with an air of panache,
it watched the firework in that ‘fair’.

The rising dark of the night,
intoxicated my shadow
and on it went, meandering in the meadow..
That ‘cold air’ of panache, started flowing,
engulfing the glowing pyre
and stabbing the growing fire.

On came another dusky dawn
and on came the sages.

My corpse was still there.

The west wind came and brought with it,
a few blank pages.
The wisest of the sages,
read the mystery of those blank pages.
Pointing towards my corpse that lain,
he said,
" he’ll breathe once again.. "
.

.
I’ll breathe once again…

An inanimate animation...

2010-01-20T00:16:00.006+05:30

20/1/2010, Wednesday...

In a well ventilated room,
a soul hyperventilated..
Shadows of the past were dark..
No hue in some..
and some were bloodily stark..

A naked wire hung from a nail..
The nail was frail
and the wire had started to stale.
A mellow spider was there..
with some legs resting on a blank paper..
and some on a paper-man,
cut out with a rusted pair of scissors..
A few words were inked,
on this inanimate man form,
that read : Rider on the storm..

Time, after a beguiling pause,
started ticking, for an impending cause..
On that eight legged mortal..
the tickings started to chortle..

A few white-wash flakes,
came crashing to the floor
and disturbed that ever lasting silenced roar..
Some flakes crashed onto the spider
and slaked their thirst,
with the life of that storm rider..
with the life of that storm rider..

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...

Just a puerile scrounge...

2010-01-11T19:29:00.003+05:30

11/1/2010, Monday...

If you looked at me and smiled..
and if i did the same..
If you sang a litany of problems to me..
and if i did the same..
If the stigmata of 'something' was too deep..
'something' that made those litanies look cheap..
'something' that made you and me weep..

An eleventh finger to wipe my tears..
and an eleventh finger to wipe yours..
A "Juan Mann" for you to hug..
and a "Juan Mann" for me too..
A shoulder for you to rest..
and a place for my head too..

If....
If that 'something' made us crooning cronies..
If that 'something' was friendship..
and if you and me were friends..
The world, with all the mundane space,
would've been a better place,
to live in..
and an even better place,
to die for...
:)

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...

An inundated drought...

2010-01-06T20:05:00.007+05:30

6/1/2010, Wednesday...

On a seething street of an old city..
a lonely heart, subsisting on his levity..
walked through the gregarious crowd..
with his inside, draped in a shroud..

Illuminated by the brightest sunshine,
and embellished with phony looks..
All the chapters of that book..
were printed in black..
All the strings of that guitar..
were temporally slack..

A thousand eyes he looked into..
A thousand eyes looked into his..
Those iridescent glances, in the human fair..
ended up as an insipid affair..

With some blots on his soul,
a consciousness, with some unpaid toll
and, with a phlegmatic demeanour,
of a forlorn lunatic,
that desultory heart - dark and stark..
left without leaving any mark..
.......without leaving any mark......

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...

Tacit Tenaciousness...

2010-01-01T12:51:00.012+05:30

1/1/2010, Friday...

Around a decade ago,
In a corner of my heart,
something started ticking with a low frequency.
While some brushed it off as a contingency,
some called it as a juvenile delinquency..

The pedagogues couldn't correct me,
the expoundings never worked
and the chastenings got chucked.
But somewhere on the outside of my inside,
the spectre of 'utopia' grew heavy
and engulfed me into its frigid sodden exhaustions
and i started walking to the tunes,
of some unknown piper's illusionary notions..

The 'tickings' inside my heart went on,
and the frequency kept decreasing.
I was running out of batteries,
but still kept buying those insidious lotteries..

The 'radiant' grocery stores sell them still,
but i've stopped splashing my leftover cash..

Around a decade ago,
In a corner of my heart,
something started ticking with a low frequency.
While some brushed it off as a contingency,
some called it as a juvenile delinquency..
I didn't get it back then,
and let it flow with the stream.
But now i know what it was,
and i can smell the sublime steam,
emanating from my dream.
It was my dream..
............my dream...

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...

The Anodyne...

2009-12-11T22:29:00.002+05:30

11/12/2009, Friday...

The changelings are having their say..
& I feel the cauldron overflowing.
The certified certitude seems charade..
and the chagrined catarrh overthrows the conscience, this night.

This night, the 'beau monde' might beatify me..
This night, the 'beau monde' might canonize me..
and then, they might cauterize me... this night.

This night, the ready reckoner might beckon..
towards the light of a magical beacon.
This night, could be the night when my soul transcends..
this schismatic space and time.
This night might adjudicate..
This night, could be the night,
the night when my life ends..
This night, could well be my anodyne....

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...

A glory hunting twat...!!

2009-11-29T10:42:00.006+05:30

29/11/2009, Sunday...

Please give a cursory look to my previous post before reading this.

When i woke up today and switched on my computer to listen to some music, i had no intention of posting something over here. But i found something very amusing posted on one of the discussion forums (something that i wrote sometime back was being claimed by someone else.. plagiaristic publicity..!! ) of a coaching institute that goes by the name - T.I.M.E. This discussion forum was meant to discuss the CAT exam that started yesterday. Here's a link to that page that am talking about - http://www.time4education.com/talktime/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=999273683&whichpage=3

And just in case if 'someone' deletes that post from this page, i am copying the pertinent matter of that page and pasting it over here.

nomorearookieNeophyte
3 Posts

Posted - 28/11/2009 : 6:21:34 PM
my cat experience:

there was no connectivity at my center but we were made 2 sit there with sheets and pencils... and there were no chicks 2 checkout... so i wrote a few lines...it was smthing like this...

When your thoughts are skew..

and the words are few..

When the CAT keeps haunting you..

and black is your hue..

Don't let your head rue..

go and sue..all that, that forced you in lieu..

go and stew..

all that, that made your thoughts go askew..

All that i wrote may or may not be true..

but since, i had words that were few..

i tried not, not to try something new..

i wrote this bcoz i thought may b i can bring this thread 2 some use..as the MODS here don permit 2 write what matters 2 people...

Since he had no chicks to checkout, he wrote these lines, he CLAIMS...!! A very preposterous reason to write something like that.. no ?? And his nickname is 'nomorearookie', that too is something very grotesque ! When i first read his post over there, as i was still in sleeping mode, i didn't realise what i just read. But then in another moment it struck me "abe ye to maine hi likha tha.." haha... Now, the title to this post is a phrase that i heard in a youtube video somedays back, and it really amused me, though it's a slang. I don't even know whether this 'someone' deserves it or not...!!

Set the setback back...

2009-11-09T10:57:00.002+05:30

9/11/2009, Monday...

When your thoughts are skew..
and the words are few..
When something keeps haunting you..
and black is your hue..
Don't let your head rue..
go and sue..
all that, that forced you in lieu..
go and stew..
all that, that made your thoughts go askew..
All that i wrote may or may not be true..
but since, i had words that were few..
i tried not, not to try something new..

And if you happen to chew..
what i told you to stew..
or if you happen to sue..
what i told you to sue..
Just after closing that dreaded file..
My friend, spare a thought for me..
and give me, give me an immolating smile..
:)

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...

Sauntering in a quagmire...

2009-10-27T22:18:00.002+05:30

27/10/2009, Tuesday...

I wrote a line on a page..
I wrote a page on a line..
The line wasn't mine..
so i scribbled that sign..

The words that i tied down..
wanted to be set free..
The lines that i strangled..
wanted to breathe again..

The throes of the nubile words..
The pangs of that scribbling pen..
who under that ornery hand..
blotted the spawning azureness into sand..

Those hands were a little greasy..
That heart was a little queasy..
That carnal stupor of a lunatic waif..
isn't always safe..
that isn't always safe..

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...

Perfunctory quintessence..

2009-10-18T17:59:00.005+05:30

18/10/2009, Sunday...

Everyone was in a joyous mood..
Prising were their guts, with 'delicious' food..
as the children play..
gregariousness was on display..

Lights were all around..
The crackers had their sound..
and the rockets, nose-dived to the ground..

The festive night ended..
The vignettes, were all shattered now..
the rambunctious crackers were all dead..
As they lay on the road..
waiting for their autopsy, before the tillage..
and some were lucky to survive the pillage..

Then, in the morning, a boy..
was out on the road, to pick up the pieces..
they call him, a rag picker..
'dirty' and 'dark' was he..
walking through that seething filth sea..

Out of no where, he saw a lucky survivor cracker..
he decided to put it to use..
and blew up its fuse..
As a nearby plant nodded..
the notorious cracker exploded..
That poker's face was replaced by a cute childish one..
That was real happiness..
the one that stems, straight from heaven..

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...
:)

Rakhi Sawant : The Killer Machine..

2009-10-04T18:12:00.005+05:30

4/10/2009, Sunday...

Now that you've read what is written above, i must make it clear that it wasn't meant to be ironical, because i wrote it in a matter of fact way. What does that mean ? This means that she really is a killing machine and like a thousand others - who are just like me, who walk, talk and act like me - she does make me go weak in the knees. This was the matter of fact way i was talking about. But the fact of the matter is this - she kills my days when i accidently happen to have a look at her face, or that trademark effrontery of hers, or any of her 'always tactile' publicity stunts and she's been doing that quite consistently for quite some time now. So, she is indeed a killing machine. Every time that fatal accident happens or at times is forced to happen, i go weak in the knees because i feel like bending my knees and puking. So this makes that once in a while retching and frowning, after looking at her, quite normal. Hence that 'killer machine' tag...!

And accidently again i heard somewhere that she's 'hot' and men go weak in their knees when they ogle at the skimpily clad 'sav(w)ant.' She's got everything that a woman can have to turn me off and may be its true for any male homo-sapien who's equipped with even a modicum of rationality. I hope that the 'coy' (bomb)shell, doesn't decimate my edifices again with her (bomb)shells...!

All her polemical moments make me frown..

Into the abyss, i drown..

somebody please, please somebody kick her out of the town...!!

Ram and Ravan united against a common eneME...

2009-09-18T20:58:00.005+05:30

18/9/2009, Friday...

This might sound profane..
its that time of the year again..
when the Ramleela drives me insane..

Lord Rama, the super..
gauche Ravana, the usurper..
the sacrosanct 'transvestite' Sita, who is far from all evil..
or the garrulous platoon led by a cavernous devil..
and not to mention the 'apocalyptic' presenter of the function..
who is short of even the basic gumption..

The gyaan is too 'profound'..
and the cacophony is too loud and is veritably called a mere 'sound'..!
all the audiences they want to lure..
all the audiences they fail to lure..
but still they never fail to act cock-sure..
and keep 'creating' all that stupid furore..
welcoming the local politicians is their sole motive..
introducing & familiarising them with the native..

Why did i write all this, with all my apathy ?
because i want to gain your sympathy..
away from the main theme, did i sway..
because from my room..
the Ramleela's loudspeaker is just 20 metres away...!!
just 20 metres away...!!

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...

Ashtray...

2009-09-04T18:35:00.003+05:30

4/9/2009, Friday...

This is a song by an American punk rock band called Screeching Weasel. The song, it seems, has been written on me..!

I can't pay the rent, the 20 bucks I made last week's already spent..
The landlord's at the door and there's dried beer and cigarette butts on the floor..
Can't seem to go to work and let some fucker treat me like a piece of dirt..
Get out of bed, my head is fucking screwed..
And my life is really going down the tubes..
I dont know what the fuck to do..
Got half a pack of cigarettes and my wallet is completely bare again..
I might be broke but I don't care, I just watch TV in my baggy underware..
Monday morning 9 am, I gotta get out and start looking for a job..
I don't want a career, I got enough to deal with here..
And I shelled out my last 7 bucks for beer..
I don't know what the fuck to do..
I see the room before my eyes, a rotten pizza covered up with flies..
This just ain't the life for me, don't wanna end up like Lenny, Jake and Jesse..
Can't seem to go to work and let some fucker treat me like a piece of dirt..
Get out of bed at noon, my head is fucking screwed..
And my life is really going down the tubes..
I don't know what the fuck to do..

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...
:)

The right to rape...

2009-08-21T23:17:00.009+05:30

21/8/2009, Friday...

Afghanistan has recently passed a law which is being termed as the "Shia Personal Status Law". This so called 'law' legalizes 'marital-rape' of a woman by her husband. This law gives a Shia husband the right to deny his wife/wives, food and sustenance, if they refuse to obey their husbands' sexual demands. The new final draft of the legislation also grants guardianship of children exclusively to their fathers and grandfathers and requires women to get permission from their husbands to work.

What a 'law'.. ! And as if that wasn't enough, according to the U.S. charity Human Rights Watch, "It also effectively allows a rapist to avoid prosecution by paying ‘blood money’ to a girl who was injured when he raped her."

It seems to me as if the Afghan governing body is keen on carving out a few more Genghis Khan's out of those who can 'afford to rape'. A man rapes a girl.. pays her the 'blood money'.. and evades the law.. and now, he's not a criminal.. as simple as that.. What the f*** ?

And ironically, Afganistan, just had elections to 'democratically' elect the new President of The Islamic Republic of Afghanistan. Democracy at its best. And till now, no one in the country has dared to impugn this barbaric law.The new government in office can at best be described as consisting of the henchmen of the Afghani warlords, if not of the Talibs, and, in no way are they less oppressive than the Talibs. And the charlatan 'theologists' (Ayatollah Asif Mohseni, the chief hardline Afghan cleric behind the law, according to whom - a woman does have a right to say no, but then the man has a right not to feed her.) on whose recommendations this law has been passed, are nothing more than a bunch of bloody deified satyromaniac impostors.

The Darker Side of Night...

2009-07-20T13:33:00.013+05:30

20/7/2009, Monday...

I fell in love with a girl..
The girl said she was in love with me too..
The feeling threw me in a state of tranquil..
she made me swallow an amorously teasing pill..

Day in and day out i used to think of her..
All her lies seemed so true..
although i knew..
they weren't even a wee bit true..
But i kept on believing the hollow lies..
The lies were blatant and the kisses were smooth..
It seemed they are gonna last forever..

But one night, with a lie again..
She made me cry from within..
In that specious girly way..
She told me she was going away..
She has had enough of my stupidness and my ever lasting silence..
Her squandering over me finally got over..

But, amazingly the discreet me got out of that hangover..

Now she's found another lover..
"I love you - A" to "I love you - B" in a week..
All hail this Gen - X of dilapidated geeks..

I have nothing against her..
I have nothing against you..
This wasn't something i'll ever rue..
I wasn't expressing any of my fears..
With my hand on the reverse gear..
and the peddle pressed..
It was just a look into the rear years..
And the real thing over here, my peer..
is that...

I just had another beer.....
I just had another beer........

:)

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't...
:)

Tonsure and Baptize the fools...

2009-07-17T20:36:00.010+05:30

17/7/2009, Friday...

Today, i went to the barber's shop for the usual business. When the barber was busy shaving the one month old beard that i had grown, (although i didn't do a thing in growing it, it itself kept growing..!) a boy of approximately the same age as mine, presumptuously entered the shop, with a cell-phone in his hand, which was being used as a transistor at that time.

He went on to sit on an available vacant chair and a barber who was sitting idle went to him to inquire what was he there for ? A shave ? A haircut ? or may be both ? But he was there to become someone who he wasn't.

He told the barber that he wanted a M.S Dhoni to be carved out of him and even before the barber could comment, the M.S Dhoni changed into an Akshay Kumar. As it was incumbent on the barber to say something, the barber expressed his views on the 'serious' matter. At that time i was pondering over the thought to tell the barber to throw this scamp out, but he himself decided to walk out and return in a while after consulting a Spin-Doctor.

The boy returned, proselytized in 10 minutes, and this time he wanted a concoction of Dhoni, Akshay Kumar and something he termed as "Spicy". I didn't knew what in the world was that.

I wonder from where on earth did he have the time to think about such a petty thing (do forgive me if you think it wasn't petty..). And a bigger rascal was the one who discussed this topic with him(the one who proselytized him).

If you cannot decide on what and how the crop on your head should be, then you really are in need of some horse-sense enhancing asinine fertilizer...

An eleven year old dialectician...

2009-06-16T10:58:00.014+05:30

16/6/2009, Tuesday...

There was an eleven year old boy who loved playing football.When he was in class 8th, his school, introduced SUPW('Socially Useful Productive Work..!') classes. The classes were scheduled to be held on Fridays in the last two periods. The students could 've chosen from various options like creative writing, dramatization, gardening, and some computer based activities, etc, etc...

When the options were provided to the students, the students, based on different schools of thought, could 've been easily divided into the following three categories : the studious types (mostly opted for the computer based 'SUPW') , the 'creative' types (opting for creative writing, dramatization, etc.) and those who were not interested in any of these, chose the class whose teacher incharge was the lenient of all(this happened to be the gardening class). The students were told to go to the respective teacher incharge of the activity and register themselves for the same. So, based on these laic classifications, the SUPW classes were enrolled for by the laity.

But there was this eleven year old kid who thought a bit otherwise, and what he did, is what really is, creativity(atleast for an 11 year old..). He didn't register his name in any of the activities and on fridays he used to go to the ground to play football.

This clandestine act continued for the entire year. But at the end of the year, when it was time to award grades to the students the boy was caught and paraded before the headmaster and when the headmaster and the other teachers came to know, they looked at the boy in a gobsmacked way that had the potential of becoming 'the look' of the next fashion season..!

They collectively reprimanded the boy and 'awarded' him an 'E' grade which meant that he just about managed to pass. As the teachers told him to leave the room after making him apologize and taking his signature on an undertaking they started talking about the clairvoyance and the creativity that this eleven year old possessed. The boy while leaving the room and while casting a few aspersions upon the teachers was very satisfied and very happy with what he had done.

Well Done Son...!!

The Rogue Vogue...

2009-05-29T19:26:00.009+05:30

29/05/2009, Friday...

Of late i've developed a strong dislike for the word 'cool' (and also for its counterpart 'hot'). Everytime a boy (guy) or a girl (gal) delivers this word, my dislike grows stronger.The word is synonymous with 'good' or may be something else but that is what i made out of it. The word, kind of, epitomizes the urban youth.

The gilded youth of today - the late to bed and late to rise youth, the youth whose vitality lies with the 'touchscreen' , 3G compatible handsets(and those who don't have them,long for them), the i-pod youth, the Gucci and Kelvin Kleine youth(and not to mention those who pile up the cheaper alternatives to them, equally 'cool'..), the gals with "sartorial plights" (shorter the clothing, more expensive it is and more importantly cooler or maybe hotter (don't know) is the girl), the youth that regularly uses the words: fuck (guys), cheap (gals),etc., the 'boyfriend-girlfriend' youth, the disc going,pub going youth - are completely antithetic to what they are trying to imitate and what they are trying to achieve. The subtopia - the shopping malls, the multiplexes, the fast food chains... - is thronged by these vacuous urbanites. I used to think that hedonism is on the horizon, but it isn't, it's already there and is being accentuated by the media.

Not just the youth, there is an ever increasing number of 'cool parents' who want their children to be 'modern' and at the same time they want to conserve in them the rituals of past,the rituals of religion and the filial piety. The number of people going to temples and those involved in religious activities is on a rise and so is the number of homeless old age people and the crimes against the old.I fail to understand that why people travel hundreds of miles or stay awake for nights to please a Jagdambe Ma or a Santoshi Ma when their own Ma is on her deathbed counting her last breaths.

Celibacy is on a rise and so are the number of rape cases.
Fraternity is being subdued by the bonhomie fratricide of today.

I am tired of this cool new generation of Indian westerners, of the vague, undressed and tumultous utopian vanity of this cool gen X.

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... n i still don't...)

The diabolic 93rd minute and a ghoulish "anglophile"....

2009-05-07T13:13:00.007+05:30

7/5/2009, Thursday...

An Arsenal fan, wearing an Arsenal jersey, in Nairobi, hanged himself to death after the gunners lost to Manchester United in the UEFA Champions League semi final 2nd leg at the Emirates. He was apparently, very disturbed with his team's performance.

But what are we, die-hard, Chelsea fans supposed to do ? We were not disappointed with our team, our team didn't play badly but we lost... thanks to "SOME" egregious refereeing by the match incharge - Tom Ovrebo, who works as a referee in the Norway League.I wonder how he beacame a "referee" or is it even right to call him a "referee" - he never 'referred' to the linesmen nor did he pay any heed to the 'referrals' made to him by the blues.

With Michael Essien's 9th minute, left footed volley which was bulleted into the Barcelona's goal, began the 83 minute period for which i was so happy, the faith kept on increasing as the minutes were ticking away and the road to Rome - where, this time, we'd 've crushed the lucky bastards - seemed like a highway ride rather than a bumpy ride. But then in the 93rd minute, with just 1 minute remaining, as fate would have it, Iniesta blowed our dreams away with a goal for Barcelona. Heartbreak for me and for all the blues out there.. I couldn't believe what i just saw, the sight obfuscated me.

The Barcelona goal was totally fair, no arguments about that, but by the time they scored we could have been or rather should have been 3-0 or may be 4-0 up, but we were not, because of that tonsured scamp - the Norwegian referee - who seemed to have missed all the clear cut fouls in the penalty area, which even a cow could have spotted. But he didn't. His career as a referee should end here. The final in Rome is going to be a flop show with none of the teams deserving to be there(because even Man U, too, rode their luck as they 've been getting all the easy teams in their knock-out rounds, and i hate them any way...)

After the disaster, i tried to sleep but just couldn't, i was restless and my lips were continuously uttering newer and newer insults for the referee. After half n hour i decided to go for a stroll in the nearby park. When i entered the park a dog started lookin at me and a moment later started walking with me. For some time i didn't pay any attention to the creature walking beside me and i, along with him completed one lap of the park and then when i decided to return to my room i decided to say goodbye to him. I sat on my toes, very affectionately i put my left hand on his back and very lovingly called him by a nickname and shook my right hand with, the equally willing, toe of his right fore limb. And the nickname was - TOM (OVREBO)......!!

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... n i still don't...)

A DOGmatic answer to the nature's call...

2009-05-02T23:05:00.012+05:30

2/5/2009, Saturday...

Today, me and my friend went to PVR Prashant Vihar in the hope of finding a movie to watch, so that we could waste our 3 hours and hoped against all hopes, that we won't realize that we've been wasting time from the past three hours.

The movie ticket was worth Rs.150 (only...!) and owing to the "(widespread) budgetary problems that we are facing nowadays", we decided against the futile action. All's Well That Ends Well...

When we were standing in a nearby parking lot, i saw something which looked like "some-thing" to me..! A black stray dog was sniffing and tinkering around.He started sniffing the cars in the parking lot one-by-one.To my amazement, the cars were parked in the increasing order of their costs.And the dog was also sniffing the cars in that order. From the nadir, to the zenith, he sniffed them all and what he did in the end was indeed scrupulous, pragmatic and expedient - he lifted his hind limb, and with an air of panache, relieved himself onto the most expensive car...!!

A must know and a must have in the various paraphernalia of the economists...!!

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... n i still don't...)
:)

Embedded In The System ---->> Number One Zero....

2009-04-23T01:12:00.009+05:30

23/4/2009, Thursday...

Today, i appeared for one of the two internal vivas of my final semester of "ENGINEERING" and the name of the subject was - Embedded Systems and what happened in it epitomizes my past 4-5 years.

Three of us were made to sit in front of the lecturer, who was chating to one of his close lecturer friends( who by his build, looks to me as if he's just been going for the jugular everytime he got into bed...!! ) who, in turn, was talking to his wife on the cell phone and both of them had a derisive smile on their faces for the three of us.

He asked each one of us the topics we were comfortable at. But i didn't even knew the name of the topics and so the word that i involuntarily uttered was - 'Basics...!!' and i felt a wee-bit smug after that.

After the viva was over the lecturer told the 1st guy that he managed a score of 30%, the second guy - an 80% and the third guy i.e me - a 0%. I couldn't answer a single question. The blank paper he gave me to write my answers and explanations onto was returned to him by me as it is - 'BLANK', not even a single ink mark on it.

After i got up from the hot seat the smugness inside my head was gone and was replaced by a true sense of satisfaction...!!

"When you know that your time is close at hand...
Maybe then you'll begin to understand....
Life down here is just a strange illusion....."

Am off to sleep now... got the second one tomorrow....!!

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... n i still don't...))

When i was chewed up, spit out and booed off.....

2009-04-04T23:03:00.009+05:30

4/4/2009, Saturday...

Here's a short story that brought me back to life, my faith, my dreams, and kept me going..... A story which is always there with me in my heart, my soul, my head and, and in my wallet..! A story about faith...

There was a skinny young boy who loved football. Practice after practice, he eagerly gave everything he had. But being very weak as compared to other boys, he got absolutely nowhere. At all the games, this hopeful athlete sat on the bench and hardly ever got to play.

The determined young man decided to hang in there.. who knows perhaps he'd get to play when he became a senior. All through school he never missed a practice nor game but remained a bench-warmer all through.His faithful father was always there in the stands, always with words of encouragement for him.

When the young man went to college, he decided to try out for the football team.Everyone was sure that he could never make the cut, but he did.The coach admitted that he kept him on the roster because he always puts his heart and soul to every practice. He shared this with his father and he shared with him, his excitement. The persistent young athlete never got to play any game.It was the end of his senior football season, and as he trotted onto the practice field shortly before the big match, the coach met him with a telegram.

The boy read the telegram and became deathly silent.Swallowing hard, he mumbled to the coach, " My father died this morning.Is it all right if i miss the match today ?" The coach put his arm around him and said,"Take rest son and don't even plan to come back to the game for some time."

The game began and wasn't going well. The team was trailing. A young man slipped into the empty locker room and put on his football gear. As he ran onto the sidelines the coach and the players were astounded to see their faithful teammate back so soon. "Coach please let me play. I've just got to play today," said the young man. There was no way the coach wanted him to play in that situation.But, the young man persisted, and finally feeling sorry for the kid, the coach gave in.

Before long, the coach, the players and everyone in the stands could not believe their eyes.This unknown boy, who had never played before was doing everything right. In the closing seconds of the game this kid intercepted a pass and dribbled all the way, scoring the winning goal.

The fans broke loose and his teammates hoisted him onto their shoulders.Such cheering you never heard. The coach came to him and said,"Kid i can't believe it. You were fantastic! Tell me what got into you?"

He looked at the coach with tears in his eyes, and said,"Well, you knew my dad died, but did you know that my dad was blind?" The young man swallowed hard and forced a smile,"Dad came to all my games, but today was the first time he could see me play, and i wanted to show him that i could do it..."

I do know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my (not sporadic) thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... and i still don't... and, i never will...

Fields of Gold...

2009-03-27T22:04:00.011+05:30

27/3/2009, Friday...

It has been drizzling throughout the day.The temperature of our city took a tumble today and had a free-fall.The temperature and the wind were very pleasant and this was very conspicuous in our city's behaviour.All the 'cool' guys and gals of the city were out with their friends to enjoy the weather.All the 'cool' couples of the city were out to enjoy the romantic weather.Bliss all-around, with water dripping from heaven...

But this subversion of the heat by the weather Gods wasn't welcomed by all.Some miles away from the bliss of 'our' city were men and women with tears in 'their' eyes and fear in 'their' hearts.Despair all-around, with water dripping from hell...

They weren't lunatics crying for things meant to be happy for.They were farmers standing in their 'Fields of Gold' in danger of being robbed off.Its time when - Wheat - our staple crop is being harvested.Even a small amount of rain can cause the hardwork of farmers, their families, their animals to be washed off.The tender love, the fostering and all the tireless hardwork put in by the sons, for their mother earth is in danger of being washed off by the 'cool and pleasant' drizzles.'The farmer' might have had a nubile daughter, a child who's to be admitted to an 'English' school, a mother and a wife to be taken care of and may be something for himself too.And its hard, really hard, when your dreams are being washed away in front of you and all you can do is cry helplessly.

I wish the winds veer again. I wish the bliss and joy goes where it really belongs to.I wish the smile on the farmer's face comes back.I wish his dreams start breathing again.
I wish the 'coolness' goes away and those 'un-cool' villagers wake up to a bright sunny day tomorrow.Let all the curses of the 'cool' guys and gals of our city fall on me, but not on those 'un-cool' workers who feed our nation.

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... n i still don't...

Another Incontinent Satyromaniac...??

2009-03-15T17:14:00.010+05:30

15/3/2009, Sunday...

It was 3 pm, Sunday... District Centre, New Delhi - a bright sunny day with a 'sea-breeze' like coolness in the wind.After two days was Holi and there was that same kind of frigid festivity in the air that is 'rightly' associated with the metros.

A black Mercedez came to the roadside parking lot.The chauffeur got down and opened the rear gate.A semi-clad, 'BEAUTIFUL' girl was sitting there at the back seat, putting on the 'MAKE-UP' that'll make her look without any 'MAKE-UP'... Hypocrisy ? Yes and 'No'.. No because she never told me that she had never put any make-up( nor did i tell her that she was beautiful..!!). The girl, bodaciously, stepped out of the superb hallowed metallic precinct and on her 'HIGH' heels walked towards the district centre. Just another rich and 'pretty' girl chutzpah.

Everyone over there looked at her, with 'their' lusty eyes at 'their' brightest. Among 'everyone' was a labourer, 'not handsome', semi-clad though, preparing mortar for another 'upcoming' shopping mall.(I wish there were these many football stadiums in 'our' city instead...). All eyes, including his, were on her and followed her from the time she appeared to the time she disappeared.

But was the labourer too, like everyone else - a satyromaniac ?? Again Yes and No... But this time a 'No' for me.

The labourer's eyes were the last to 'catch' her and the first to 'drop' her.He again started preparing the mortar which will help another concrete structure in 'our' city to come up and a place where another of these 'lusty and indecent' incidents will occur..!! He was not a satyromaniac.He just looked at the 'LADY luck' the girl was bestowed with and the despondency he lived in.He contrasted his sordid and excruciating life and the bright, sunny day and cool wind like life of the girl.A life which was as distant from him as an ocean is from 'our' city and as veracious as death.

I don't know what 've i written and why 've i done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts.I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? ... i never did... n i still don't...))

My comeuppance...

2009-03-02T12:28:00.006+05:30

2/3/2009 , Monday...

From the past 3 years, 6 months, 2 days and 2 hours, I've been pursuing - 'ENGINEERING' - which has been a farcical and veritable feast for my psyche - ineffectual teachers and students earning accolades for their meretricious meretoriousness and 'vivid' concoctions..

Is creativity, a kind of stupidity and stupidity, a kind of creativity ? Answer is 'Yes' for stupids and a 'No' for a mind whose doors are not bolted from within.. but the answer to this question is a 'yes' for most of the workforce involved in imparting higher education.... it was a strange question and an equally strange answer... anyways its none of our business...

Now i'll come back to the most important aspect of our lives i.e "me"...

When i entered 'VIDYAPEETH' and till this day, the highest that a student ever thought of was a good 'placement' - a matter of life and death.. And the teachers were always citing incidents - for intimidation purposes only (masquerading as well wishers) - where a lax, irregular and low scoring student like me and a few more(but not many) didn't get any placements and an attentive, regular and high scoring student like... like ?? like 80-90% of the students - who scribble down their a***s and anoint the teacher's - got good placements(though not all are like that but most are). These stupid creatures who have a very narrow measure of intelligence, are considered to be the 'cream'. Cream is the "fatty or oily part of milk which rises to the surface and can be made into butter. " It might be on top of the surface but is it really good ?? I doubt... and i wonder whether any of these 'intelligent' students or even teachers can ever 'CREATE' something...

Again i'll come back to the most important aspect of our lives i.e "me" and i'll stick to it this time...

I appeared for 'placements' in a few companies. When it was IQ based i cleared the paper and when it was 'technical', i bombed.And in the interviews and even for the technical exams we were required to have a sound knowledge of 'programming languages'. But the 2 languages i know are Hindi and English(weak in that too..!) and Haryanvi, not a language though, but i am very well versed in it, and thats it. No C,C++,Java,etc,etc,etc... So, being a 'weak' student i never got placed in a company.And now, atleast for the time i'll be in the 'Vidyapeeth', i won't get a 'job' through the college's training and placement department(wonder y is it named so ?) due to the following OFFICIAL and RATIFIED 'thing' i received, which, though opposite to conventional wisdom, didn't make me melancholic.

"We regret to inform, the following student did not appear for the Campus Placement Test at the Institute, without any information.

AMANDEEP RANA - ECE

Due to this reason, above student will not be considered for any Campus Placement Program by the College in future.

Head - Training & Placement
BVCOE
New Delhi"

I 've got many letters from the college for my short attendance,in almost every semester, but this time it was different...
But do i care ?? for a moment i thought i did but in another moment i found - i didn't... n i never will...!! or will i ?? God knows...

;)