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.

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.

 

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.

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.

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.


  

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.

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.

Funny just got a new name!

I visited this random poem generator site and this was my attempt:

http://www.links2love.com/poem_generator.htm

My Love

Your skin glows like the sapota, blossoms stupid as the Mirabilis jalapa in the purest hope of spring.

My heart follows your Drums voice and leaps like a hyena at the whisper of your name.

The evening floats in on a great ostrich wing.

I am comforted by your socks that I carry into the twilight of Raja beams and hold next to my kidney.

I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of sulfuric acid.

As my pancreas falls from my brief, it reminds me of your Cymbal.

In the quiet, I listen for the last honk of the day.

My heated gall bladder leaps to my dinner suit. I wait in the moonlight for your secret Skin so that we may creep as one, gall bladder to gall bladder, in search of the magnificient indigo and mystical New Delhi of love.

If I Were A Millionaire.

Hiya,

If I Were A Millionaire

This is a question that has always fascinated me during my Frequent Trips to the World where Katrina Kaif was my Girlfriend (screw you, Salman!) during particularly dreary classes.


Hm.


If I were a millionaire, the first thing I would do (and I am sure that you are secretly agreeing with me on this)
is to get myself a huge house, a bunch of cars and what-not.


But, on a serious note, the next thing I would do is to strive towards reducing Illiteracy in India.


Illiteracy is a issue that is of particular significance to me because I feel that I would be cleaning the streets of No-Where Land had it not been for the education that has been given to me.


I feel that a person is nothing without knowledge. He/She is as incomplete as Maggi without the Taste-maker (You can eat it, but it ain't gonna taste good). Knowledge is the root of any Homo sapien if he/she does not want to find him/herself at the bottom of the social ladder, lunging for height.
But further than that, Literacy is necessary if a person wants to break that vicious cycle of poverty.


(Illiteracy--->No job--->Poverty--->No money for education--->Illiteracy)


In the near-future of the Internet and super-fast information access anytime, anywhere, I ,personally, can't find India anywhere in the race of world super powers without enough literate, intelligent Indians, unbound by any sort of superstitions which hinder our economic, politic and financial growth enormously today.


Only with the growth of literacy can we expect ourselves to head north-ward in the various fields of our lives.


I know that the government is taking various steps for increasing literacy, but only if we provide world-class, free education to the youth of India, can we expect India to be on top of the world in the fast-approaching future.


Hoping for a well-educated India tomorrow,
SoBan.

Mick,The Clown

I was walking down a road,feeling sick;

Then I met a man named Mick;

When asked, he told his surname was Hick,

And his age was twenty-six.

I asked him,"What are you doing in town?"

He replied, saying that he was a clown,

I looked at him with a slight frown,

"You dont look like one,I bet a Pound."

He asked me what was my illness,

I said it was a sudden chillness,

I caught wandering in the wilderness,

And  I was fraught with helplessness.

He looked at me and said this:

"Listen to me,don't scowl and hiss,"

"Go to the public and take a piss,"

"The illness will go and you will be in bliss."

 

Surprised, I exclaimed: "Are you mad?"

And pat came the reply: "yes, a tad!"

I was shocked, at the nerve he had,

But I went on, a smarter lad.

It's time to fight back.

Mother Earth says,


Life has made me row a boat,
Life has made me a scapegoat,
Life has destroyed all my roads,
It's time to fight back,It's time to fight back.

Life has come and gone,leaving me dead;
Made me sleep in my bed,
But now I know in my heart of lead,
That It's time to fight back,It's time to fight back.

Gone were the days of love,in yonder,

"Now what's left " I wonder,

People tired,who sit and ponder,

It's time to fight back,It's time to fight back.

So many bullets,guns and fire,

People burnt in funeral pyres, 

Thieves,gangsters, terrorists and liars,

It's time to fight back,It's time to fight back.

PS:just a random poem composed about a month ago.