Sunday, December 19, 2010

Seclusion Of The Erinyes.

 I - Delirium.


I am chaste,
A virgin, unmoved
By the vagaries of
Humankind or
Of the atrocious
Satan of the underworld.

Vivacity and vitality
Is my essence;
The sun is my father,
Nature, my mother.

Malevolence can
Do me no harm,
Debauchery is something
Unknown to my self.

I am energy.
I am spirit.
I am purity.

II - Trepidation and Abhorrence.




Oh, what is this obscurity
That has destructed
My own self,
My sense of being?

T'has destroyed my
Naiveity, butchered
My innocence.
I am lifeless,
Or am I dead?

'Tis this darkness,
It has made the
Empyrean, devoid
Of the moon and stars,
Has only blankness
And the void,
Shrouding me
With an emptiness
Very irreplaceable.

III - Debarkation of  the Deliverer.

I need guidance,
For I can not see.
I need help,
For I cannot feel.
I need nourishment,
For I am starved.
I need support,
For I cannot stand.

But wait, Oh wait,
I see an effulgence,
Piercing through
This impenetrable veil.
Is this my savior?
Is this my hero?

IV - Convalescence.

Relief, I feel it,
For Memphistopheles,
Had eaten me alive.
I yet not feel,
For I am still numb.
My flesh still replivates;
I am still timorous,
I need to recover, 
I need revival.

V - Manumission And Probation.


Freedom is my wife,
And I adore her.
That twilight of darkness
Has given way to
This joyful aurora.

I feel again,
I am revived, 
I see again,
I have survived.

I am salvation,
I am redemption,
I am liberty,
I am me.


Monday, December 13, 2010

Hamlet - The Clown Prince


When Hamlet pulls down Gertrude's skirt to let go of his anger, you know it's going to be a ball of a time. 

There as thousands of reasons to absolutely adore this delightful interpretation of Shakespeare's epic tragedy. One, it has clowns. Two, it has amazing actors who play the clowns. Three, It's so darn funny!
From Figo going "HAPPY NEW YEAR" to Laetres and Hamlet comically slipping in the duel, this play has it all. Lighting, absolutely impeccable.  Props, a bare minimum. The little minutia in the background, the impressive use of stage space, and the audience interactions are the USPs of this immaculate comedy.  There are a few places where one can uncomfortably squirm in his chair (especially if he's watching with his parents) but all the frenzy just adds to the fun! The audience was in splits the entire time!

Profanity aside, Hamlet - The Clown Prince is really well written, and it utterly deserves its numerous accolades. It was Ninety minutes to adore and cherish for all Coimbatoreans.

Amazingly spectacular would be an understatement.

______________________

Unedited review published in MetroPlus :)

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

A prayer.

Give me hope,
To brace myself for adversity,
To give me the tenacity,
To find the best in the worst.

Give me modesty,
To keep my audacity at bay,
To thank them for what they say,
To never embrace arrogance.

Give me life,
To care with infatuation,
To relish with liberation,
To foster imagination.

Give me the dignity,
To have pride in myself,
To be in my right mind,
To never be suppressed, by body or by mind.

Give me courage,
To stand for what's right,
To never give up my attempts,
To fight with all my might.





Sunday, November 28, 2010

HNO3 + HCl

Sleeping for the next day's big gig is a PAIN. I lied down at 10, after an hour or so of packing and unpacking. Slept at 1.

November is awesome. Especially when you cuddle in  inch-thick blankets with the windows open :)  Woke up by 8. Bruv had just returned from one of  his LONG pan-India Yatras.  He returned from Chennai, I was going to Chennai. Irony,eh? Got ready by 9:15. Dropped at school by 9:30. Wandering inside the school without worrying about Exams or classes is a BLISS. Met  PT sir. I was standing with a rucksack heavy with clothes and stuff and ogling stupidly at him sitting there with a TINY bag. What could possibly fit into that thing?


Had to wait for PR. Ass, he is. Told me to come by 9.30, came himself at 10.15. And also forgot his tiffen.  Why, I ask."I'm a Hypochondriac", he says.We stupidly hoped for the Principal to drop us by his Innova. After all, *We* paid for it. Indirectly.
________________________________________________________
The bus journey was long. It became warm, and I wondered why I wore my jacket. I still think that a bus-ride is the cheapest roller-coaster you could ride. You know, with the bumps and the rickety suspensions and all? Finally a few seats freed up before we reached the station. PR wanted to know why I love Harry Potter so much. "Convert me from a non-believer to a believer", He said. I love explaining complex Harry Potter plotlines. It was SO much fun.

At the station bus stop, Sir went to charge his phone, and then wandered off someplace. We called him asked him where he was. " I'm over here. Come."  the Genius says, and cuts the line. But we found him and hence, went to Platform 3.

The woman who announces the train arrivals. I always imagined her to be some sorta middle-aged woman. Kinda sweet voice.

I love Tinkle. I still read it. It's right up there with The Deathly Hallows and The Bourne Supremacy. But we refrained from buying it at the stall. Good thing, as we were about to realise.

PT Sir is overreactive. The train stopped for a whole five minutes. But for unknown reasons, we were running like madmen to reach B1.

The train journey was long and quite uneventful, except perhaps when PR prank-called me. He got down at some station.I had just  bought some vadas, and was eating them when his Cell rang:

"Dei Banthia, We've caught the wrong train."

Yeah right. I swear, we must have read the whole ticket atleast some 10 times.

"Oh right. Are you sure?"

"Yeah." I could hear the train moving behind him.

 What should I do? Get down at the next station? Meh, I'll just finish my vadas.

Then came PR smiling like a prat, with PT Sir following suit.

____________________________________________________

Chennai is fricking HOT . And Humid. It was raining cows and buffalos and yet I was sweating.

I so wanted to eat at Saravana's. So I dragged them to the upstairs restaurant.  3 Chappatis, 2 biryanis and a curd rice later, the bill came to 250 bucks. That's when I realised we were short on Money. Uh Oh. And to top it all, the Auto fellow charge a hundred bucks to get us to the hotel.

Palm Grove is a sucky hotel. It's atleast some 80 years old. I'm not talking heritage-style, ancient-design old, I mean OLD old. The room was tacky, to say the least. And bell-boys came every hour to ask for tips.
 This time, it was easy to sleep. We were so damn tired. 
________________________________________________________

8 AM. Humid. What kind of a cruel joke is Chennai? But Devvarman kept us entertained. Yes, the room had a TV. Thankfully.  We dragged ourselves to the in-hotel restaurant for the 'complimentary breakfast'. Now here I was, wearing a jersey and shorts, and in comes the Bangalore team uniform-dressed. With the fancy school blazer and all. I could almost see the scorn on their faces. Nevertheless, I wanted to keep it cordial, so I talked to them:

" We're the team from Bangalore. We were the national runners-up last year. We're gonna kick your asses over here."

Okay, they didnt actually say the last line, but they as well might have. Stupid tactics, as PR says.
___________________________________

Finally went to the venue.  8 teams for the City finals (:O) and the competition was damn close.  Some team with green shirts made it through. And the Regionals started.

I'm not going in detail about the fiasco at the quiz, as I can only remember the Bangalore team prancing in their seats to tell the answers. But from nowhere, the Vizag team won. Woah.

At first, yes, it was disappointing. But then, hey, Fourth place isn't so bad. We still have loads to look forward to.
__________________________
Returning home. Cash in pocket: 300 bucks. But we still went to the Cybercafe in the station, to do some *ahem* life-changing online work. But apparently, the cafe was hacked, and everytime we tried to log in, it redirected us to some other site asking for the password again. So we gave it up and just went to the TIME website to gleefully look up our names.

The train was a nightmare. COCKROACHES! Ohkay, I'm not much of a manly man, and I cant bear watching those creepy little nightmares crawl upto my food, or to my sleeping body. *shudder* But I miraculously went to sleep, somehow.
What else, woke up, went home.

An uneventful end to an eventful little trip, eh?

PS: Hope you get the title of the post. It's an inside joke.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

The secret quiz.

1. Sitter. Willem de X (6 May 1872 – 20 November 1934) was a Dutch mathematician, physicist and astronomer. He came up with the concept of the de X space and de X universe, a solution for Einstein's general relativity. Gimme X.

2. Identify, put fundae.

3. An anecdote has it that when Philip II sent a message to Sparta saying "If I enter Laconia, I will raze Sparta to the ground", the Spartans responded with the single, terse reply: "X". 

4. 
David Ginola-1997
 Beckham, Ginola, Lassiter, Moller, Raul -1998
Dennis Bergkamp-1999
Eddie Pope-2000
Paul Scholes-2001
Thierry Henry-2002
Ryan Giggs, Roberto Carlos, Edgar Davis-2003
Theiry Henry, Alessandro Del Peiro, Ronaldinho-2004
Patrick Viera, Andriy Shevchenko and Fernando Morientes-2005
Rooney, Ronaldinho- 2006 to 2009
Theo Walcott, Rooney, Lampard-2010
____ and Rooney-2011

List is exhaustive. Connect and FITB.

5.
X made his debut as Commander Abhimanyu Rai in the Doordarshan Series 'Fauji' in 1988. X?

6.  ____ __ __ ______ is a famous catch phrase from a famous science fiction TV series. Though it has numerous pop culture references, it is never actually spoken verbatim in the series. FITB.

7. 'We love Hollywood. We just have a funny way of showing it.' Tagline of?

8.
X is a project still in development. It calls itself  'the privacy aware, personally controlled, do-it-all, open source social network.'

The word X literally means 'to scatter about, to disperse'.

X also denotes the scattering of the Jews to countries outside of Palestine after the Babylonian captivity.FInd X.

9.
"Okay, should we get some coffee?" Fundae please.

10. Galena is the natural mineral form of lead sulfide. How is it better known as?

Friday, November 5, 2010

Unintentionally Funny: Hindi Soaps.


Hindi Soaps. Aren't they the awesomest? To tell thee what i'm talking about, here is So-not-stereotypical Soap on Famous Hindi Channel.
Butter-Run

Now, before you go all, 'how come YOU see so much of this show? You're just a hypocritical freak who doesn't have a life! *more trolling*', lemme tell you this: I might not a have a life, but I SO don't watch this crap voluntarily. It so happens that this show happens to clash with Phineas And Ferb National Geographic, at times.


Butter-run is a so-very-original story of Jealousy, Bitchfighting, and Shiny Jewelery. Like, no other Hindi Soap ever has these elements in it. Ever.


Enter Rich Man.
 
Rich Man: I'm rich and I wear a Pearl necklace round my neck. Because all rich men have to show their richness at all times. I'm also virtuous. I'm so virtous that, when I accidentally killed my maid's Husband, I'm taking care of her daughter. The maid has no problem with it. I mean, so what if I killed her husband? I can totally take care of her daughter without ever harming her!

Rich Man has a Daughter as well. She, so non-expectantly, is a Spoilt Princess.

Spoilt Princess: Hi, I'm Spoilt Princess. I rule the whole world and I want my Dad's undivided attention. But that stupid maid-daughter takes away all the attention! I must get rid of her! *scheme scheme devious devious*

The maid-daughter is apparently an Angel who can NEVER see that Spoilt princess wants her outta the way.

Angel: I'm an angel. I'm so very Pious and Virtuous. I can never see any one get hurt.*halo halo*

Now, after about a hundred episodes of Nonsense, they grow up.

Rich Man: My daughters are grown up! Must.Get.Them.Married.

Angel: I like Loser Guy. Can I marry him? Pweeease?

Rich Man: Sure. Looks like you two are in love. Go on!
_____________________________________________

Spoilt Princess: Hey wait! I wanna marry Loser Guy!!

Angel: But you already saw him and said that you didn't wanna get married to him!?!

Spoilt Princess: I do now. Now gimme your Wedding dress.

Angel: Wokay.

Spoilt Princess: Really? You don't care about the hundreds of people outside waiting outside for you to get married to the love of your life?

Angel: Nooope.

Spoilt Princess: .............

 Angel: Look, Shiny Jewelery!
____________________________

So Spoilt Princess gets married to loser guy. Only after about ten episodes, he discovers that he married the wrong girl. Gasp!

Loser Guy: ZOMG! You ain't my wife!!

Spoilt Princess: I am now. *devious smile*

But you can't escape coz' the wedding vows are life-binding! And your family has already accepted me!! BWAHAHAH!

Loser Guy: Aww man. Alright then. But I ain't gonna love you or anything.

Spoilt Princess: Really? You're not gonna sue me or divorce me for forcefully marrying you without your permission?

Loser Guy: Nooooope.

Spolit princess: ..........

Loser Guy: Look, Shiny Jewelery!

_________________________

Now Loser Guy has an elder brother whose in Rehab 'coz he's a druggie. Now Druggie, wonder of wonders, falls for Angel.

Druggie: Ooooh. Shiny! Marry me gurl.

Angel: Wokay.

Druggie:Really? Eventhough I don't know that you're my bro's Ex? And bro would be devastated to see me score with you, whom he still has feelings for?

Angel: Yuuuup.

Druggie:........

Angel: Look, Shiny Jewelery!
________________________________

So Druggie marries Angel. But again, wonder of wonders, he finds out that she was his brother's ex.

Druggie: WTF! you're my bro's ex?

Angel: Uhm. Sweets?

Druggie: Dayum! Now I'm gonna so-not-inappropriately poke fun at your relationship with my bro! *poke poke*
_________________________________

So Druggie starts getting more depressed.Finally it somehow lands up here:

Druggie: *points gun* Spoilt Princess, YOU'RE the reason Angel is not mine!!!! I keel you!!!

Spoilt Princess: LOL. I'm not the reason you're such a loser. YOU are, you drug infested, rehab freak!

Druggie: OMFG. Yer right!! *points gun at himself and shoots*

Spoilt Princess: Oh shit.
________________________________

So Druggie dies. After another fifty episodes, everyone else realize that Spoilt Princess was the reason Druggie was dead.

Rich Man: ZOMG! You killed druggie? Get outta my house, Biatch!!!

Spoilt Princess: Hey I'm a Princess. You can't do that!!

Rich Man: I'm doing it now!! *kick kick*
__________________________________

So Spoilt Princess has to bear the harsh outside world. Where cars, manicures, and hotels don't come to you at your command. Choo Sad.

Meanwhile, Angel becomes a widow and follows the widow lifestyle. Which apparently means that you can wear mascara along with the white sarees. And you have to eat boiled rice.

Angel: I'm a widow and I have to suffer because that's what widows do. *eats nothing for two days*

Loser Guy: Dayum! Eat somethin'. You'll fall sick, otherwise!!

Angel: GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU PERV!!! I'M YOUR SIS-IN-LAW!!! RESPECT THE RELATIONSHIP!!!

Loser Guy: What the bhen!?!?!

Angel: I actually have feelings for you but I can't show them 'coz like, I'm a widow...or somethin'.....

So I'm going to an ashram where I can ponder freely!

Loser Guy: Whatever. I'll get married again, then.

Angel: No wait!! *sets fire to ashram*

_______________________________

(This katha is still going on, so......)

Monday, November 1, 2010

The FacePhases.

Facebook. You know it. It's THE social network. 

One fine day, sitting at home and ignoring that Chemistry textbook on my table, the Aristotle in me took over. 

If you observe idly (which is my favorite pastime), an average dude's social nework life can be classified into four broad phases:

 FacePhase 1:

You create a facebook profile with no profile picture, a fake year of birth and zero friends. It was either your friends pressuring you, or you wanted to give it a shot ("What IS it with this bookface, anyway?"). It's extremely boring, and poking is completely alien. Now, there are two ways this could wind up: 1. you end up bored and log in so rarely that you forget your password (thisisfacebook) OR 2. you keep going at it, and watch your life being taken over.

FacePhase 2: 
Change profile picture to Justin Beiber/ Justin Timberlake/ Rob Pattinson/  INSERT GAY HOLLYWOOD STAR as you think it's 'kool'.You receive friend requests from other misguided 'kool dudes'. (All the America THEY know are the stereoypical Americans from local movies, or AXN.) Feel encouraged, start sending more friend requests. Get accepted into the gay hollywooders community.

Now come the status updates. You start up by copying some dude's emo status, and posting it as your own: Life is nothing without your love/ I don't wanna love, because it hurts/ (INSERT RANDOM STATUS CONTAINING THE WORDS 'PAIN, LOVE AND HURTS' IN VARYING COMBINATIONS). Then you pester every online dude to comment on it. ('Dei, please comment on my status da!'). Recieve comments like 'correct da machi', 'you say the truth in life', etc,etc. Feel more gloated, more emo statuses. 

By this stage you would probably have sent a thousand friend requests to all the girls you could possibly could. One or two get accepted. More gloat. More emo.

 FacePhase 3:

Now the mania REALLY kicks in (read 4-5 hours on facebook per day). Your Farmville farm is fertile, Mafia is growing and the Cafe brings in customers.  Your wall is filled with " ____ needs you to help him fertilize his farm", "____'s Mafia needs more men", etc.

By this time, you gather up the courage to upload a personal picture. It's probably a crop of some group photo you chanced upon, or some picture taken manually through a cell phone.

Notes. You see  X gaining popularity through that Note he wrote about some exaggerated incident. You try writing you own. Tag all your friends in it. Pester them online dudes again. "Hey check out my Note! :link:"

BTW, till this time, pronunciation marks and capital letters are completely alien to you, and an excess of exclamatory marks is absolutely necessary to stress the importance of the sentence.

FacePhase 4: 

FacePhase 3 may last from anything between 6 months to one and a half years. After those months of comment-pestering, girl-befriending, etc, etc, you finally get some sense knocked into you. You realise the importance of punctuations after that embarrassing incident (whore you?).

Zynga fades away, online time reduces, you realize how much time you're wasting.

But you still have to ABSOLUTELY update that you won 5K in a science quiz.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

What was that?

Was it a bird twittering through the woods?
Or was it the shacked-hut stove-stop crackling?
Was it the sigh of misery amongst the hood?
Maybe it was my heart beating.

Was it a flash of blinding light?
Or was it more than that?
Maybe it was a heated fight,
Or just a roadside cat.

Was it a bullet through the wind?
Or a rat scurrying?
Was it a horse kicking its hind?
Or just a desk-jockey hurrying.

Was that a falling soldier?
Or just a dropped mannequin?
Maybe it was a locking bolster,
Or the neighbor on his Mandolin.

Was it a sign of war?
Or a fight in the locality?
Was it a crashing car?
What happened to all the sanity?

Friday, October 1, 2010

Guns And Roses.

Lt. Farooq Mahmood was running for his life. The cold Ladhaki wind, usually a hindrance to stamina in usual situations, was strangely acting as a much-needed boost.   

The eerie silence of the valley was pierced only by the wails of the few-numbered soldiers, surprised by the sudden atack. 
"It's a bomb-shell! RUN!"

And he did run. He ran faster than the bullets pouring in numbers amongst his peers. Panic is the best caffeine, his Squadron Leader told him. And how true it was.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, came a black-clothed, masked demon, malice in his eyes, and guns in his hands. He wasn't human. Mahmood was looking at the Shaitan himself.

Seven bullets pierced mercilessly through Farooq's unarmored chest. Machines show no mercy. He was falling.
_________________________________________


Lt.Farooq Mahmood woke up. It was 3 am. Inspite of temperatures reaching the negatives, he was sweating. Profusely. Just another nightmare. Ever since that incident, he never had a moment of peace.

That incident.How he came out alive, still seemed a mystery more confusing than the origin of the universe or the existence of God. The fact he was alive amongst twelve other dead peers had only increased his faith in Allah. 

Lost in thoughts, he looked above. His Squadron Leader was gazing at him.


"Don't go to sleep again. We're going to launch a surprise attack on them at 3:47 AM. Get Ready."

"Yes Sir."


Thoughts whirred in his head at an intensity that almost sickened him. He had to do it. Who knows, it might just be his last mission, Alive. Crawling to his bag with some difficulty, he extracted a small piece of paper, and began to pen down those feelings whose existence he had denied for a long time.
 _____________________________________________

My dearest Amina,

 I miss you. I know you must be doing well. I hope little Sukhaya and Rehman are fine.

-He stopped. Where do I START?  Trying to gather his thoughts, he continued.

I am about to continue my mission in a few minutes, and I do not know if I'll come back alive. If I don't, I want you to know, that- 
He stopped again. The dam of strict Army discipline he had built over his river of emotions had cracked. He took a deep breath and continued.

that I will always, and I repeat, ALWAYS be with you. You will be unharmed, I will always protect you. Oh, just a small house with you, me and our children seems the sweetest paradise anyone could ever hope to get. I wish, and HOW I wish, that I return back to you! Every day I had ever spent in your presence seems like a second, every month, a year. Those twinkling eyes of yours, that sweet smile was the only thread keeping me from running away from this madness! And oh, our children! How I laugh at the little antics Sukhaya used to do! And I still remember Rehman's mischievousness. Have you found out the watch he hid yet? 

It's been a year, Amina. A whole year. The only thought of having to wait for an unknown period to return back is a torture worse than swords and bullets. And I will, I WILL return back alive. Until then, I only hope that I stay sane at this hellhole.


With you always,
Farooq.

Farooq quickly folded the paper and kept it for posting; he didn't want his tears to blotch on the paper.

Just then, a messenger from the base camp came gasping in; breathing air from the highest plateau in the world wasn't easy. 

He wispered something into the Squadron Leader's ears, and the latter stood up.

"Jawans, the Indo-Pak war has officially been declared over. Return to base-camp in fifteen minutes."


Emotions played havoc with Farooq's heart. 


He was going home.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Crappy Independence Day!




Happy Independence day? I don’t think so. For me, Independence Day has been nothing but a holiday where they have a bunch of TV shows lined up for Entertainment-Hungry people. Patriotism? Pah. Desh premi? Meh. Now, don’t get all “you don’t have the ‘Indian’ spirit. Aaj kal ke bachhe in Amreeki logon se bigad gaye hain.” You know what, I don’t give a damn.

YOU aren’t the best compatriot either. What shirt are you wearing? Polo? Nice. You’re SO Indian K So much for ‘swadeshipan’.

Yes, India has got corruption and the like, but I’m not going to rip another cliché of how corruption has afflicted our lives. You already know that.

What I’m trying to tell is, you know you’re not the best ‘Indian’. Don’t pretend that you actually care for this darned country. Oh, are you saying that you DO? Then shut the hell up and DO something!
What happened? Why so silent? Ha. All we know to do is to give this large lecture of how we want India in 2020.Alright, fine. But I don’t think that’s  gonna happen if you drop another chocolate wrapper on the ground. Rhapsodize all you want, but the truth is, that wrapper is still lying on the ground.  To quote Obama,”Change We Need”.

I’m no flag-waver. Atleast I’m accepting that. All I want is a place to live in, and India happens to be that place.  If you think you are, e-mail me. I’ll prove you wrong.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Break Free.












Feeling gloomy won't get you awards;

Feeling sad won't get you prizes;

Being vain has absolutely no rewards

Failure is Ominous; it'll come in all sizes.



Striving forward, you have to forget

All that shit in the past, everything you haven't done,

All those blames, those faults, those errors,

Gather everything together now, think as One.



Get fired up, get inspired;

Go crazy, go hay-wire,

Look for role-models, people you admire

Have that urge in you, get that desire.



Push forward! Those obstacles

Aren't enough for you to go down;

Break those chains of guilt, shatter those manacles;

Finally, you WILL do it, and how!

Sunday, July 4, 2010

That Evening Sky.







The sun was shining in the vespertine sky,
Fading away with gentle an evanescence,
With a placid flow  and a smooth zephyr
Caressing my skin, my haptic senses.

 
Oh, the skies, that striking blue display!
Festooned with bodies of cotton,
Flowing high o'er vales and hills,
Purifying my heart from the very bottom!

 

And Oh, the desperation!
Of that red devil,
Trying to boast his best illumination,
Over joyed I was, so much, yet so little.

 

That was the moment, the second that time,
I wanted everything, still, over 'ere;
My gripes were to the Omni-present;
"Let this place be, tranquil, O great Seer!"

 

And out came the reply, right from the heavens,
"Let this be a lesson, for you to learn;
That all in life is not hunky-dory,
You need to fall, You have to burn.

 

"But when you lose all that cheer,
And you feel all you've done is in vain,
Remember always that I'm here;
And I'll give you such a wondrous sky again.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Ramu And Ranjha







Ramu loved flying kites. It gave him a sense of unrealness and surreality. His house in the tiny village of Motihari in Bihar had a big open compound where he would fly his kites. His mother, who had a no-nonsense conservative mind, allowed him to fly kites for one hour in the evening every day and the rest of the free-time he had had to be spent studying.



Ramu hated school. He would either fly his kites, or spend the entire day thinking about them at school or at home. Flying kites gave him an outpost for letting off steam during his mother and father's many fights, which often resulted in his mother leaving the house for a few days.



Ramu hated the way the high caste boys at school treated the lower caste boys. The former would rag the latter relentlessly, and the latter had no one to complain to. It was good enough that they were allowed to study in the same classroom as the high-caste boys.



One day, Ramu's favorite Uncle, Rajesh Chacha, visited them from his many trips to the city.

"I've got a gift for you, Ramu! I know how much you love kites and-"

He took a large, beautifully decorated kite from a bag.

Ramu was over-whelmed with joy. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Shaped like a bird, It was painted Red, blue and white, and it had a pretty, short tail. It was love at first sight for Ramu, who named the kite Ranjha. It was the largest kite he had ever seen. Waiting for his allotted kite-flying time was almost tortuous.



Finally, after his school –bell rang; he sprinted off home and took out Ranjha. Ranjha flew, and oh, how he flew! Darting, diving, whizzing, swooshing and zooming through the windy, cloudy sky! Ramu felt his heart soaring and rising with Ranjha. He was never this happy.



Enamored by his new found friend, Ramu forgot to be wary of the electric wires around the compound. Suddenly, the thread (Manja) cut loose. No! Forgetting everything that was ever there in his head, Ramu hurriedly followed Ranjha, unaware of what was ahead. Ranjha went spiraling through streets, grounds and houses as the wind played with him, and Ramu was in close pursuit.



In his quest, he was joined by Bambish, his former Best-Friend, with whom he was forced to break ties with, since the latter was of a lower caste, and the former's mother disapproved of it. Off went Ramu and Bambish, running after Ranjha.

On their way, they were stopped by the High-Caste bullies, who were ragging three small Low-Caste boys at that time, and they asked what they were doing. Without uttering a word, Ramu pointed to the heavens. The bullies stood transfixed, gazing at that beautiful kite fluttering in the skies.
___________________________________

It was quite a long time since his mother saw him, and so Ramu's mother was worried. After searching the entire compound fruitlessly, she grew even more anxious. Hurrying inside, she told her husband that

Ramu was missing. This started another quest.

___________________________________
 

The skies had cleared a bit and the breeze was down. The solitary mission to recover Ranjha had turned into a several-boy pursuit. Ranjha fell. Scurrying to pick him up, the army of boys ran hastily. But unfortunately, it went into that timeworn, run-down, out-of-purpose Post office, which was rumored to be haunted with the ghost of its dead Postmaster.

Ramu's parents went in frantic search for him, and realized what troubles they gave Ramu with their fighting. They were different in many ways, but their mutual love for Ramu would keep them together.



They were united, once again.

__________________________________________

No one was ready to go inside the post office, not even Ramu. But, Bambish mustered up his courage and ran inside.

After two minutes of bated breaths, Bambish ran back jubilantly with an un-tattered, unbroken Ranjha.

Forgetting all their differences, the group of boys ran elatedly towards Bambish and congratulated him.

Ramu noticed this assemblage for the first time. It was the first time he saw a uniform face of glee and happiness on the faces of these Fat, thin, tall, short, poor and rich boys. THIS was what he wanted. He didn't want Ranjha anymore.

The sky was clear again.




 

Sunday, June 27, 2010

You can, you can, you can.

Can I do this?

Yes you can, give it all you've got

I'm afraid I'll get a mini-paralysis

Try once if you will, strike that Iron, pierce that dot.


 

Can I do THIS?

Yes you can, it's not that grim

What if I do it, and have a miss?

I know you've got this; I have a whim.


 

CAN I do this?

Yes you can, oh! Yes you can,

Maybe I can, If I Have some assists;

No I won't do this, do it yourself, be a man!


 

I can do this!

Yes you can, you have it in you;

I will do this; I WILL do this;

Have a focused mind, and then the world you can view.


 

I did it, I did!

YES!! I'm happy for you!

Oh you actually believed in me; you didn't kid!

That's because I love you, and that's what loved ones do.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Heartbreak.




There he was, just standing there,
Looking at her, just looking,
His dizziness growing, her flashing smile bare,
Laughing with her, just laughing.


There he was, just dazed,
Dreaming about her, just dreaming,
It was her straightforwardness that left him amazed,
His heart was singing for her, just singing.


There he was, just ecstatic,
she accepted him, oh yes she did!
He was frozen in time, just static,
He couldn't believe she didn't kid!




There he was, just confused,
Why is she so distant?
He couldn't believe at what she, at him, accused;
His confusion remained constant.


There he was, just half-dead,
She didn't dump him, he was virtually killed.
For countless days he wasn't out of bed,
With anger and self-pity was he filled.


There he was, just recovering,
When he found her with someone,
The anguish was over-whelming,
He had lost, the other side had won.



Monday, June 14, 2010

Discrimination.


We call ourselves "the united yet diverse."
Well, that's not true, that's yet another verse.
I'm not making this up, I HAVE experienced this.

 
Just because I'm fair, doesn't mean that I'm foreign.
Heck! If that was true, half of all Indians would be foreign.
I try taking this all lightly:
"Haha, that's funny! But I'm not British"
You don't get it do you, you just go on and on.

 
Well, fairness is not the only one on my list.
My English is good, why the hell you make fun of that?
Wow, I receive banterings and insults, instead of pats
It's not my fault, dammit! My English is not bad!

 
Well, all this got me thinkin'
And one thing is to be followed,
Ya can't stop 'em, you can just ignore.
I try sometimes, but sometimes it's too much.
Just gimme a break dammit! Cut all this crap!

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Le jour parfait




It was 7 am. Nakul woke up. The unexpectedly rainy morning was a pleasant surprise. Smiling at god's grace, he slumped up to his bathroom. It was strange; he never noticed the extra-ordinary number of cleaning products in there. As he stood there gazing at the Domexes, Rins and Lirils, an expected shout was heard downstairs.

"Nakul, wake up, you'll be late! "

Nakul blabbered sleepily something in reply which he himself couldn't understand.

" Ahh, take a bath, buddy."

It was a shame that the perfect sleep-inducing climate had to be ignored. Damn you, school.

As he was bathing, he didn't realize that he was actually in a bathtub.

"Strange, I never noticed my bathroom had a bathtub."

Perplexed, he quickly got ready for school and went downstairs.

His Mom was tapping the dining table, half-impatient, half-irritated.

"Quick, I made beans-on-toast, today. "

"Your favorite", she added smilingly.

Nakul loved it when Mom did that. His mom was, to him and all his classmates at school, the best cook.

Leisurely biting his toast, he gagged.

Looking bewilderedly outside, he exclaimed, "I didn't know we had three cars!"

Wildly happy, Nakul continued gaping at the Mazda RX-8.

"It's a present to your brother, for getting admission into Harvard! Your father is very generous."

His Amazement quickly turned into hope.

Giving Mom his signature puppy-dog eyes, he asked her," Can I drive it when I come back, Purleaase?"

"I don't know, there are a lot of policemen nowadays…" His mother said nervously.

"But I have a learner's license and Bhaiya can come with me! I promise, ma, I'll drive very slowly." He said, crossing his fingers.

"Well, all right."

Jubilant, Nakul punched the air around him.

With a spring in his step, he went to school.

He was sweetly surprised at the attention the girls in his class were giving to him.

"There's something different today..." he wondered.

After school, Nakul was wild. His brother had come to pick him up. In the Mazda.

He started crossing the road. Something was wrong.

A bus out of nowhere came and hit him on his face.

He woke up. He was late. Mom was slapping him awake.


 
 

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Walls.




Ripping my hair out, my screams are unheard.

I am in jail. I am a gaol-bird.

What's going to happen to me?

They are on a killing-spree.



Why?  Why do you do this to me?

You have blinded my eyes; I cannot see.

I am naked, clothless; stripped bare.

It's laughable to think someone DOES care.



Who? who are you?

What do you want?

Please, just give me a clue;

I can't bear all this; I just can't.



All this time; I was waiting for that savior;

Now I realize there is no angel;

I have to escape; I have to get out of here.

I have to bang the doors; I have to ring the bell.



Oh! It's beautiful; the divine taste of freedom;

It might be a deception, but it still feels good.

I am free, I am revived.

I am alive, I am alive.





I do not know who or what this song means literally. Feel free to guess.

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Funny got ANOTHER new name.

Oh.My.God.
Another (hilarious) attempt at a love poem: http://www.links2love.com/poem_generator_1.htm


This night I shall dream of your bedazzling Magenta hair and Okapi-eyes.
Wrapped in echoes of your mellifluous Gluteus Maximus-music,
I long to sip from your Tigermelonful lips.
In my dreams, we fly on the exquisite winged Bitter gourd of Purpleness -- skimming vast continents of pubic hairs and Orangutans.
The depths of all the oceans of the universe shall never separate our Water melons.
Brilliant as screaming Guns, the seas greet us from afar.
In the twilight we feast on chocolate-coated Baboons and tender Rosehearts of love
Adorned in white silk, we pluck our schreeching love chimes from our calfs.
I press the goonda that you wear around your neck against my pubic hair-muffin so that our Tigermelons melt into one.
You will always be my little Dhudheri lal-cakes face, the Okapi of my own screaming eye of love.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

I are a dog.


You expect me to write 99 sums a day,
Not a moments break do you let me lay,
I'm sitting over here, with a silent pray,
I are just a dog, ain't I?

 
Its not like I have anything else to do, right?
 Just study Botany, Chemistry, or the Theories of Light,
I try to cope up, with all my might,
I are just a dog, ain't I?

 
"I'm worried about your future" to me you tell,
But that doesn't mean you can make this year hell,
 I have to study and lock myself in a shell,
I are just a dog, ain't I?

 
Who Am I kiddin', Im not a dog,
Dogs, don't sit for hours like logs,
Dog's aren't engines with over-worked cogs,
I aren't a dog, I are a machine with a clog.


Monday, May 10, 2010

An Eventful Sunday!

9th May, 2010 was an eventful Sunday.


It was the 26th anniversary of my parents' wedding. We planned on leaving Coimbatore for Athirapally at Kerala, where the so-called "Niagara Falls of India", Athirapally Falls, are situated. My dad had received an Email forward claiming them to be so:


Unfortunately, May isn't September, and it was the latter when this picture was taken.


Are you getting the hint?


We had planned on leaving early, so that we may have more time, but since I had a 9 am math test, we were off quite late, at about 11 pm.


On the way, we stopped at a "Nungi" stall, where we had some of those watery fruit-like thing(y) s , I had my first taste of toddy, and  sparked off what was going to be an (relatively) Eventful Sunday.


I keep telling this, but I AM an over-dramatic and cheesy person. Sometimes, at least.


I wanted to act all heroic and stuff and so I starting gulping the toddy down. It was sweet and kinda nice, but just for five seconds.


The thirty seconds after my gulp were, to say at least, pure agony.
The toddy had THE most bitter after-taste I had ever felt in my mouth, and my chest felt really heavy after that half-minute. An eventful Sunday it was.  


After a few minutes of laughter at my (failed) heroic-ness, we continued our journey to athirapally.




It was nearly three when we reached Athirapally and by then, it had started to pour hard.
We had also recieved news, that His Holiness Acharya Shri Mahapragyaji, the equivalent of a pope for our sect of Jainism, had attained Nirvana. An eventful Sunday it was.  


We waited for a half-hour before the rain had reduced and after that we went for a view of the falls.


It was a perilously stony and long and steep walk of about 800 mts. to a spot near the base of the falls.


The falls were, to say the least, pretty ordinary:



 

They were not worth the 800 metre walk and the daunting prospect of climbing back up was looming upon us.


The rain had stopped, and it had become humid. Really Humid. Why? Because it was an eventful Sunday!


My T-shirt was drenched:




Phew!


 

15 minutes of pants, chokes, and sweaty pleas for water later, we were up again, drenched from head to toe with sweat.


 

Outside, we were greeted with the screams and shouts of perverted College Drop-outs, looking for a "good time".


 

We then went back to our cars, only to realize that there was no fuel in one of them, and the nearest petrol-bunk was 80 kilometres away. Why did this happen? Because it was an eventful Sunday!


 

We thought of siphoning fuel from one car to another, but there were no pipes around. We went to a shop asking for a pipe to transfer fuel from, and the shopkeeper's innocent "I Don't have a pipe, but I do have fuel. Do you want some?" was greeted rather warmly. How did this miraculous feat happen? Because it was an eventful Sunday!


 

10 litres of Rs.65 per litre fuel later, we were off to Coimbatore. It was nearly nine-thirty when we reached the restaurant we had planned to dine at. After some "Rabbit Food", "Squirrel Food" and "Smooshies", as the restaurant classified its food into, we went back home, tired and sleepy.


 

All in all, this day would be etched in forever in my brain. Why? Because it was an eventful Sunday!



Sunday, May 2, 2010

Quick update, and my review of "Housefull".



 Yes, I'm a movie buff now!


Ah, it's been a while since I posted stuff, I've been so busy.
What? Don't look at me like that, I was!
Well, all right, I was actually too lazy to sit and write a nice full-length post here, I was writing a couple of posts for this other activist site: 
The Rebelexicon.

Check it out, and comment on my awesome writing prowess.


Yeah, so I have been busy with that and a whole lotta other stuff. (Read "Facebook"). Plus, I watched this movie "Housefull", and the first words that came out of my mouth were the words, "Oh.My.God.CHEESY!"


Seriously, these movies should get the "Cheesiest movie of the year" award. Decade, actually. I mean, the director stopped at nothing, stooped to the lowest standards possible, just to get a laugh on our faces. The homo/gay scenes were the corniest and most cheeky ones in the movie, and they were the only ones able to vibrate my stomach for some laughs, however much I resisted.


And talk of objectification of women! Ritesh Deskmukh prancing at home, singing "Lingerie, lingerie!", gave me an idea of the disaster I was about to watch.


Add in some typical run-of-the-mill Mr.Bean gags, "Night At The Museum" slapping monkeys, and some seriously irritating songs jumping down our throats every five minutes or so, and you've got yourself a typical Akshay Kumar comedy. In movies like these, there's absolutely no use trying to grasp the EXTREMELY loose plot.


And the trailer is a rip-off.  It said that there would be three wives in one house at the same time, but there were only two; Jiah Khan had an almost-guest role in the movie.


If you watch this movie and like it, you are either a hare-brained gorilla, or an idiot looking for some broads and a laugh. You'll be satisfied if you're looking for the former. 


Just don't watch this.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

The trip of DOOM!



It all started with paint-balling.


I was off to this place here called "Reload Da Fun" where they have a bunch of adventure sports, paint-balling and zorbing to name some. At paint-balling, being the over-dramatic, cheesy person I am, I imagined myself to be a real soldier and I wanted to "sacrifice" myself for my team. So, I ran out of cover, screaming dementedly, "SHOOT ME!!".


KABLAAM.


Off went a paint-ball, or rather a bullet, through my exceptionally stinky helmet (coconut hair-oil. Eurgh.), and slapped my exposed jaw.Ouch. That's when I realized, paint-balling hurts.A lot. A LOT.


Thats not the end of the story,folks.


Next: Zorbing. Harmless fun, right? Not so in my case.


Me and the other person were strapped well in the zorb-ball, but when the ball was pushed, RIIIIPPP. Off went the other person's leg straps, and her legs were flaying helplessly.
Five tormented seconds later, at the end of the ride, I came out with a excruciatingly painful bruise on my head. Double Ouch.


A couple of days later, we were off to Ooty. Yay!


On the hills, the same unfortunate zorb-ball partner felt sick, and so  I had to exchange seats with her. Our car was an Innova and I was sitting in the last row of seats, and since I had to get out, a middle-row seat was folded. I came out of the car and out of nowhere, came a drunk, creepy old-guy who was staring at us. We asked him to move but all he did was stare. I was shit-scared by his creepiness, and went back inside. Some genius inside said, "Sourabh, sit down!" and so I did. Except there was no seat, it was folded. My buttocks, along with my dignity, fell on the hard car-floor. And how. Triple Ouch.


Everyone burst into derisive peals of laughter, which lasted the entire trip. My condition was so pitiable that everyone there would just look at me and start laughing. Even my brother, who was relatively quiet the entire trip, had a sly smile on his face.


One hour of self-embarrassment later, we reached Ooty. It was the opening day of the hotel we had booked and so there were various artists performing there.


The last act, and the most dangerous one, was  the fire-breathing by a "Dangerous John". And Mr.John had to pick ME, only ME, for a volunteer. Of course, it had to be me. Who else?


He offered me to drink some of the kerosene, which I refused. And to add more to my misery, he covered my head with a towel, which made me look ridiculously stupid, and breathed fire on my head.


Fortunately, there were no causalities, and I wobbled back to my seat.


After these acts, the host needed a volunteer to start dancing, which I am not so good at. Who can it be? Of course, ME.


I started shaking my body like an idiot for quite a while before anyone joined me in my constantly failing attempts to move my body in rhythm with the music.  WHY ME? WHHHYYYYY?






The next day, we were off to the lake at Ooty and we went for paddle-boating. And the other person paddling was none other than my zorb-ball partner. Everyone thought that we were jinxed. So to prove that we were not, we went on the same boat. And this time nothing went wrong, at least for a while. Right in the middle of the lake, when we were discussing about the so-called jinx, came little drops of water, which then turned into a horrendous rain-shower. 




We were drenched from head-to-toe,but I was a bit happy.


"At least I'm not the only one suffering this time!"




Fortunately, the rest of the trip went accident-free, and I learnt something from the entire ordeal :


Stuff can be funny, as long as its not happening to you!


PS: Nothing is exaggerated here and everything has happened for real. Poor Me.