Malice for one and all…

The title is venomous and so are my intentions while writing this. The wrath is for one and all…be it commoners or the elites.

Corruption is rampant…if not in “actions”, then at least in “character”.

AND THAT is the reason why “one of my comrades” asked me about the “commission” that I would get by selling the tickets of a “charity show”.

Scintillating it is that when I vouched for myself and forthwith presented the reason behind the charity show, he started to prove as to how embezzling the fund so collected was legitimate.

AND THAT is the reason why the relative of the one I donated blood for asked me my stealthy intentions behind the functioning of ‘Bloodline’ which promotes blood donation among students.

Curse be on men who would never appreciate a good endeavour, but suspect everything they can.

What is even horrendous is that it’s no one else but “our men” who are responsible for this rut in the mind set.

These are those “Filthy rotten bastards” who for “selfish reasons” foment blemish for those vouching for good.

Ask them what for they have come forward in service to “humanity”, they will, with due bonhomie, enunciate a whole lot of good reasons. But, if the minds of these “sophisticated, honest and caring rogues” are read out, the genuine answers will dispel the credibility of one and all.

And right on top of those "philanthropic longings" would be their shrewd, but accurate assessment of the “ultra-sophisticated girl sorority”, who abhor it when directly approached - because you like them, and would yield easily when you approach indirectly, with "noble feelings and austere thoughts" and then hail and guide (read "impress") them.

The virtue called “straightforwardness” has died out in the minds of those who boast being “straightforward"; and "fast-forward”. And this hails corruption of character, and "motivation".

But then, I can extend this malice to the societal norms that have out casted the obeisance for the simple and honest. If at all tribute is towards some, then it is only for the rich and elite.

Curse be on the society that has reserved respect for only those who are able to keep up with the Jonas’s.  

This malice further encompasses the “hooligan boy fraternity” that would do anything for funk. The escalating alcoholism, smoking and criminal ideology has stabbed this society with the dagger of the stray male youth.

And for a certain section of "senior citizens", ever heard of the saying..  "Hang your boots before the question transforms from "Why" to "When" ..?

I can go on encompassing everyone under this malice…but, apparently, there is no end to it.

The “photograph” (of society) is blemished and some tools of “Photoshop” (read human effort) can do the magic to make it look good. But when the problem lies in the “motives” of the “Photographer” (read natives of society), the situation will deteriorate until the “Masterpiece” (read society) that is being photographed, understands this “exploitation” in the hands of the “Photographer” (read natives of society).

And if “YOU” are reading this, better know that it hurts.

P.S. - What hurts more than losing is being ousted from the play because somebody is “prejudiced” and "ignorant"…

P.S. – The pen and fury is mine, but the content here has brewed up in two minds…mine and Div’s.

editing, "direction" and moderation by Divyanshu. 

Old Goose...

As I rev up to pen down this one, I am dubious of faring up badly for two reasons, one that it has been a long time I have posted anything, and second that my language is a hell lot formal now owing to the so many application forms that I have filled for the imminent.

I am in such a rut. Sitting all day in the room and leafing through the subjects that have never been my forte is foolish, but then, all for a good job.

I have changed and the concern for the homeless that hovered by my head when it pelted down heavily a couple of days ago testifies the same. Never ever I had been concerned about anything but my happiness when it rained, but this was some sheer evolution.

And may be, that is why, I am able to draw a parallel to SUKHI Sir (MD) when he proof read every page and made us read as well. I abhorred it then and found it a pain in my ass but today when I went through ‘Mailer Daemon’, I missed his presence.

(Dear MD Team…the issue is good, but that the team is new, is very prominent…best wishes for future…you all have the potential!!)

May be, this is experience…the one that is paradigm of age.

It is quite scintillating how I have transformed into someone I cavilled when I was younger. And when I look back now, everything looks foolish…

How I used to castigate my sister when she said that everybody is the same in college…how I considered smattering out of the batch and upholding bunk as cool…how I plied to get the notices printed and finish the task to stand out in front of my seniors…

Aaahh…the memory lane is painted…red, blue, green, yellow…though it looks foolish now, but is the essence and if I wear this feeling now, it’s because of these memories.

Maturing is phenomenal and is perpetual, but even it is all about experiences.

So…stay hungry, stay foolish.

P. S. – last few days in college… [Jitters]…I will leave, but my heart will always be here. Love you ISM. It was good to be a part of you and then make you a part of life.

P.S. – I am still in love…can’t move onL

Just a passing emotion…

FBing is the new avocation…

And so the blog suffers.

With these two lines, I would seem to be so redundant as if I have nothing to read, nothing to prepare for.

But then, this is what makes you tick if you are helluva lot human (read: social) and are made to read NCERT text e-books and so you cannot manage to socialise like before.

Quite a few potential posts of mine have suffered sabotage after they popped as fussy ‘what’s on your mind?’ on FB. (I don’t need to elucidate ;))

And this one, I didn’t let go like a status update. (Though the ardour to fabricate a one liner persists)

To begin with, let’s tread back to FB.

Few seconds ago, I was tagged on a photo (courtesy: than-than)…and the album was ‘Independence Day at kartavya’ (uhhmm…boy is an active FB addict…took only an hour to upload pics)…and the flash back started.

I was catapulted to my first day at centre-1 library…

I was a first year then and I was supposed to teach English in class-4.

Dubious of being ragged, I had never wanted to join Kartavya. But, one of my best pals had forcefully dragged me to join in and so I wasn’t ebullient (Rather I was dreaded) about the first day

.

When we stepped in the basti, I saw what I expect majority of Africa is like. I had never been to the interiors of a slum before and the stark reality that lay before me was dreading, even more than ragging.

I saw a little girl. She would have been 8 and 35kg by weight and she parried a water container that would have been around 15lt. I was horrified.

Naked children…they were all so happy in a world so unreal, so brash, and so aggravated.   

We were finally in our respective classes, for the first time being called ‘sir’.

My class was small…4 students with brains better than mine.

I questioned myself, “Will they ever be able to qualify IIT-JEE??”

And the answer came ‘No’…Not because they do not have a father like mine who never lets me run out of money.

I felt blessed…so full of smugness for myself.

The next moment, I hated myself for being so selfish…so rude.

I taught them and introspection process ran in the background.

…it has been almost 3 years now and I have been a part of kartavya. Roles have changed but the fervour of the feeling hasn’t.

Don’t know up to what extend we have been able to bring about a change but I am happy that at least we are trying.

Celebrating Independence Day with the kids was such bliss, though I was late to attend the ceremony… (Curse tummy).

P.S. – I had once been to an orphanage for disabled children to celebrate my B’day. It was my father’s suggestion.

It was the first time I had cried on my B’day (except for the day I was born). And I love my father for this.

P.S. – Why do we curse our country so much? Are we so blind to see that it is a mere reflection of us? Why don’t we hate ourselves then?

…cursing is so easy.

P.S. -  

A sister’s brother...


The long persisted silence on my blog itself elucidates that ‘being happy’ and ‘having something to write’ are two different worlds and that’s why we do not have archives of successful love stories unlike the ‘romeo-juliet’, ‘heer-ranjha’ and analogous flicks.

Hats off to those few who manage to make up stories even when the food is plenty (that too available 24*7) and sloth ain’t prohibited...

But this does not imply that what is to follow is a sullen heart break saga...lucidly, it is a rare-view that only people bestowed with a female sibling could observe.

Man is a ludicrous lascivious bastard and the history has it.

The mores of male character is hounded with a morbid obsession too leer every passing girl in a way that even the X-ray machine would shy away at the clarity of the imprint.

But then, there is a motley range in this clique as well.

Some are gay, some a cut above Shakti Kapoor and others are a bit elegant and suave like me.

The third classification in which I keep myself is a class of boys with sisters.

This class would satisfy its craving by a quick flash and then build animations up on it.

Presume a situation when you are standing with your sister (who is more or less your age) in a busy market.

By busy, I mean a market where couples are too busy within them and are licking on the same ice-cream.

In such a situation, even if your girl friend steps in front of you (alone or with some other friends who are essentially girls), you would behave as if you are too much into the childhood pledge at school that reads ‘all Indians are my brothers and sisters’.

And at the spur of the hour, suddenly your sister breaks into discussing with you the handsomeness of an uptown stud standing a few paces apart, how would you feel???

The chauvinistic patriarch within you would create a hullaballoo but to no avail (after all, we share equal rights). You won’t be able to hold back a mercurial rise of anger and a sense of empathy towards Mallika Sherawat’s brother will come into picture automatically.

But then, everybody should have a sister.

At least it illustrates how a man and a woman are the same wine in different bottles.

And yes, when they are all the same, why not give equal rights to the female sibling as well...why not stop female foeticides.

P.S. – you can look forward to more frequent postings on my blog from now on. After all I am getting back to my aggravated heaven in 2 days.

P.S. – it’s raining in Bhopal and every time it rains, I stop halfway saying,”when it rains...”

They ask me to further express myself and I always fail.

Can’t lie, I miss you much...

 

Switch any damn TV channel and you will find that ‘man’ who was once the protagonist of this patriarch civilisation is now serving serfdom in the same civilisation that has now turned matriarch.

Go by the TV channels and you will twig that man has been deposed to a mere accessory of woman christened as ‘pati’ or ‘premi’, who also serves other ‘rishtas’ like ‘babuji’, ‘devar’, ‘beta’ and a hell lot more, and at the same time, earns emolument.

Even ‘Balika vadhu’ has a man to flaunt.

The greats who ones played the lead on TV can now merely manage to play the ‘pati’ of the lead. But why am I creating kerfuffle over this turn around when TV ain’t my piece of cake???

...yes, like sports and movies, TV also ain’t my piece of cake. Thanks to dad who in the wee years of my interest’s augmentation, strangled it blatantly and rightly.

And now, the only thing I do when the ladies at my place spare the remote is to exercise my fingers, because even the news channels aren’t worth a shot.

I am rather happy about this advancement of ladies (both in modernity and westernisation ;)) because it has made it simple to find a girlfriend.

Not only this advancement has helped in pacing up the process of wooing a girl that in yore used to be ‘shaam dhale khidki tale’ type, but also, the chances of paramours have clambered appreciably.

(Hey girl, please do advance as well...at least before I die. Do something.)

But then, this post ain’t about the TV but the question,

How should I pass time?

When you don’t watch movies, don’t follow any sport, don’t go out with friends, don’t study and even don’t watch TV, you are left with time that is sufficed to go round the earth every day and this is what I am up to.

Sometimes I plan to take a retrograde step of getting back to my training but the very next moment I think, ’let there be life’.

Sometimes I plan to hone my culinary skills by offering a helping hand to my mother, but the vituperations that will follow after I botch the task leave me dumbfounded beforehand to take this one up.

A little sketching, a little study, a little singing (too much of it rather), a little finger exercise and a little application of my engineering prodigy (if any, I am not yet sure about this) make my day.

I am missing college badly...

I am missing that sag-bag badly...

I am missing that silence badly...

I am missing myself.

P. S. – I hate it when the very mention of something reminds me of you and I waste hours like minutes just thinking of you...

P.S. - ...

   

Spur of this Hour...

The slightest drizzle at this evening hour...
This breeze so cool and this natural shower…
Ohhh…they nurture my inane desire…
To walk with you till the end of the pier...
And to express my love at the spur of this hour…


You are fresh as dew on a flower…
You are ravishing as this beautiful hour…
You make me love, you make me desire…
To be with you even when all’s set on fire…



You are the gush of love in me…
Ohhh…your dreams fill me with glee…


But, a zypher sends my dreams in a crash…
And I am back in a world so brash…


A gust of disgust fetches a tear…
And a sign of optimism that I have learnt this year…
A hope when I die, to be lucky, though I fear…
To comeback in your eyes as one of your tears…
I will always love you…my dear!!
I will always love you…my dear!!


P.S. – the tuft of hair on your face…ohh,I love it…

P.S. - …

…odd.


After everybody in the wing identified that we don’t have toothpaste, we finally purchased it yesterday. Though it’s not the close up red that I prefer, but it was all I could manage to find in my hostel canteen.

I woke up at 6 today, barely 2 hours after I had gone to sleep…though not by choice, but blame the power cut.

And from then on, I am trying to map my brain…they say it helps when trying to know yourself…

Yeah…and here it goes…

Random thoughts: top 5

1) What marketing strategy would have been behind the below mentioned tagline of a milk product brand,
“pyaar badhega, doodh bahega…”

2) The latest comment on my blog reads ‘hi’…that too from some one anonymous…what is he/she (I wish it is ‘she’) trying to say??? Will he unveil his reaction in installments???

3) I don’t believe that the occasionally non vegetarian ‘me’ has finally decided to go veg…the new homepage at least is a sign… (C’mon this ain’t by choice…the recent splurges on wasteful hang outs have left me with not enough wherewithals to have a choice…)

4) Does she look better in salwar-kameez than casuals??? (ohh yes!!) Does green suit her better then black??? (naah…)

5) When I don’t like ‘canteen ki kachori’, why is it the motivation behind waking up early and going to classes every day??


I tried to analyze my brain and someone else also did it for me (thanx der!!) and they rated as ‘odd’…as my random thoughts are all out of the book and there seems to be no sense behind such questions and thoughts popping up and also, my answers are whimsical…

They may be correct, but my verdict is different…
I have a conclusion…

Do not run behind ‘typical’…if logic should exist behind every thought, nobody would have ever fallen in love…

We try to complicate things…and forget to appreciate the beauty of whim…

Whatever does not satisfy our damn logic is called ‘odd’…and that’s where we fail to appreciate the originality of the ‘odd’…

P.S. – I had nothing to write but a desire to write persisted, so I came up with this shit…

P.S. - …

Undercover inferno


Aaahh…even a cold water shower ain’t soothing...the body cherishes the respite though, but what to do with this head, that by no means seems to be relieved???

Neither the heat nor the humidity stands culpable…it’s just that masquerading as being happy has now got on my nerves and though only for this moment, I want to spill my overwhelming frustration…

Today I regret my first suicide attempt…not that I have found something meaningful in life, it’s just my survival that I lament…

I curse my lopsided effort…I should have given my 100%. At least, it would have ruled me out of the way of a few who are jealous of me and would have conferred eternal peace to my hankering soul as the situation today seems to be a nuance portrayal of what it was three years back.

Until last year, the anniversary of my suicide attempt was just that…this year, it happens to be the birthday of the girl I am in love with. Now tell me, should I celebrate the disgust???

My love story harks back to every letdown that I have confronted…yeah…she does not realize my love for her and if she does, she is rude…

The words of my best friend are enough of caress to subsist but do they solve any purpose??

Answer is a blatant ‘no’ and the only good thing about it is that she really cares even if no one else does…

My love life seems to be pathetic…even the character in a book that I tend to fall for, either commits suicide (sejal…I miss u) or turn me down the other way (dear holy…).

Even facebook has gone traitor…every application that I use seems to alleviate my mental disarray…

And to add to the tribulations, a raunchy prick pisses me at such a late hour with his CID PJs and adult messages…given a chance, I will plug the bastard. But I am all helpless…and this is what the problem with life is…

I am helpless and I have always been…

The ovation that at times I unpack due to the ruthless hard-work that I put in to set things right at work might ensure a grin all through the day but it ain’t satisfactory enough to get a catnap…

I am fed up of these sleepless nights…

I want to commit suicide but I have to live for the very few who want to see me alive against my wishes...

I wish...

P.S. – even the bracketed humor has died out…
P.S. – the horoscope no more gets me going…I have had much of it…it’s never correct…

Rareview

With aching back, front, sides and everything, I had vowed to not agonize this masterpiece of artwork (my body…lol) anymore, when I had survived my first (and last) day at gym (I was in 10th grade)…and as is my wont, I kept my promise until this dupe…

But I don’t blame myself for breaching this promise (Guruji says, “don’t blame yourself…that’s the way to love yourself”)…

After all, how come I know that YES+ was akin to a gym?

Today’s awesome (sarcasm) experience there, outplayed the former agony…

(I wonder how come they cause greater defilement without having those demon treadmills and dumbbells.)

Anyways, it’s not only about the long surya namaskar and sudarshan kriya…neither it is about the excruciating vajrasan alone…

I had started considering the possibility of being a ‘the art of living’ tutor as a potential career option…I thought it was only about prolific public speaking clubbed with quick witted humor and good presence of mind, but I never had any idea of it requiring military training…

To mention, for the people like me, who practice head banging as the only form of exercise, the experience was plangent, nothing else…

And yes (+), it also rips away all such fantasies of being a ‘baba’…

Yes (+)…it also gives me a nebulous idea of the YES+ approach…

As per my comprehension, they make you ache enough to forget about other worries and miseries.

I might sound enough bugged by YES+ …But, I don’t seem to achieve escape velocity… (It ain’t coming)

I guess, Money implies at least a tenfold gravitational pull compared to earth’s and If I am not wrong, escape velocity and gravity are inversely related (pardon if I am wrong, I know I am awful at physics)…

Aahh…at least it lends the slightest motivation (no…guru ji says ‘inspiration’)…

Yeah…that’s all you need (inspiration) when even the girls haven’t turned up for the course in good numbers…

But I should accept that I am defective in myself (I am happy) and this is the sole reason behind the ineffectiveness of magical sudarshan kriya…

And may be… my problems are weird enough to find a solution (is it??)…

P.S. – I had an inane desire to listen to hard rock or death metal after the sudarshan kriya…is it normal??

P.S. – thrice in my life I have fallen in love…first with pretty zinta (ohh…I was a kid then)…second is the one with a ‘sold out’ tag from the time of my first approach (she was always committed…hard luck!!)…and third is a girl who, by no means, seems to budge (I am still hopeful)…

(Sorry my first girlfriend…you aren’t on the list because I don’t lie)

…all I thought about after shutting the future, cutting the past and during the super awesome (read ‘superawful’) kriyas was the third girl (I didn’t think about the second because I don’t regret (thanks guru ji!!))…

Aaahh…poor child I am (pity)…but I know, I am too boyish (sheepish) for any girl to find me potent (no pun intended) enough for a relationship…

(Or is it that, except for my sisters, other girls are vaccinated against falling in love??)

P.S. – this is for the friend of my good friend…btw I am not ‘devdas’ kinda guy (always) and when I am, I puke all the shit on paper…believe me, you won’t find anybody so jovial, hilarious, gregarious and quick witted like me (jyada ho gaya…but I love myself…thanks guruji!!)

P.S. – for the YES+ lovers, I am sorry…I accept that I am abnormal…you guys really rock!!

P.S. - I love you...

in this beautiful world...



It perched there…at the nook of her eye…silent and snug…

As she closed her eyes, it rolled down her cheek, the left one…

A transparent priceless pearl it was…

I stood there, right in front of her, staring at her face…

Neither did she say anything nor did I…

I grinned at her and she reciprocated either way…

Her brow rose only to thaw as I indicated the few extra pounds that she had managed to put on…

She playfully indicated the relative emaciation of me that I did shrug off…

She held her hand out over my head and gave a slight dab before I said,

” maa,tumari bahut yaad ayi…”

She smiled back at me and said,

” haan, tabhi to tu 6 mahine nai aya…”

A tear rolled down my eye and I embraced her as if I were a small child.

Never had been a conversation so complete…all I wanted was to keep staring at her sweet chubby face, till eternity…
_________________________________________________________________________________
Two days I spent in the shade of impeccable love…
These two days stripped me of my obsession for black (clothes), though not by choice but for love…
These two days refurbished the positivity of my blood (though only for a day), which if not by wont but at least by name happens to be ‘be positive’ …
These two days brought back the freedom of being a kid… (Deep thought…try to decipher)
These two days brought me a few (in households like ours, ‘few’ means half a dozen) new t-shirts… (None being black though)
__________________________________________________________________________________
Ahh…How good it feels to be loved…


P.S. – If only…

I was never ALIVE…

Today I slept like I was never alive…

When woke up, I was long back in time…

I knew nothing, neither the name nor the climb…

Ripped of language and the senses and dime…

Everything strange and all so frayed…

You were the only, my only hymn…

My head crashed in the table besides…

Just to bring me back to life…

Ruins and the bruises and the lacerations and the cries…

All I had was a doomed divine…

I wailed, I cried and searched for my life…

But all I could find was a wary deny…

I had lost you and love and life…

All I could do was to cry and try…to sleep like I was never alive…

P.S. – sometimes, silences speak…

P.S. -…

down to one last breath...

So finally, I have been stripped of my week long stardom and again, I and my pals stand on the grounds of equality, fraternity and liberty.

Ya…I do cherish this stardom during exams. After all, it’s my answerbook that serves the reference to all my buddies. If not in a bunch of 55, at least I am the loner who studies (read ‘who is good at studies’ ;)) in my group of 10.

With a weeklong buckling under pressure, I swagger out of the mist, triumphant.

And here I am, all set to pull the rusty strings again…

It’s an idyll afternoon…balmy…showing signs of a tough summer ahead (curse the sun or the guys with AC)…

With nothing to do, I am engaged in my tryst with paper planes…I keenly observe its fluttering flight under the fan as if trying to discover some new theory of streamlining of wings…

Lucidly, I am not…

I am trying to figure out how we succumb to death when faced by tough circumstances…

(‘When the circumstances are tough, even the tough goes to sleep’…it’s how my friend would quote it.)

I am still not over the overwhelming happiness that I derived yesterday when I last breathed.

Sounds odd??? (I know it’s too odd to be odd…)

If metabolism (‘basal’ to be precise…) isn’t the only rationale behind breathing, then I breathe only when I see her… (It ain’t fun breathing without her)

The happiness is no less than the one you relish when you are permitted one last breath before being suffocated to death.

I have sailed through the perfect dreams…but I have never seen anything that amazes me quite like she does…

It’s hysterical for me to think that I have only a few last breathes left as with every ticking second, I am coming of age and will soon be a departed soul.

If only I had her love…

But I understand that you can’t force anybody into love…it’s something that is won. (if only I knew how…)

For long, I have been beating around the bushes…

But today, I realize that soon enough, I will be down to one last breath and so for the first time, on an official note, I want to say what I have rewritten a million times in my head and it reads,

“I love you…

Every time I see you, my heart leaps as if trying to approach you…

I feel a strange affinity for you (sometimes I myself fail to understand…)

I go round, just to be around you…

I do not have any attestation to authenticate the fact of my being in true love with you…but believe me, it isn’t infatuation…

And if it is, then I must admit that the bond between me and my mom is nothing but infatuation.”

To close with, I have a few lines (from the soundtrack of ‘Awalk to remember’ by Switchfoot)


There’s always something in the way…

There’s always something getting through…

It’s not me, it’s you…it’s you…


P.S. – my mom wanted me to deviate from my cult ‘love’ and write on ‘SAVE TIGER’. I didn’t find any place for it to fit in so just to keep my promise, I will give it a mention.

‘Dear readers,

Statistics read that only 1442 tigers are left in our country. The king of jungle will soon be found ruling only in books if we don’t take adequate measures…

Please, pay heed to the hottest issue on the carts…

Do what experts suggest (I will read an article over this, mom…promise!) and SAVE TIGER.’

P.S. – ever thougth how difficult it is to survive without breathing for a whole week…

Special thanks- ADMIN (haye haye)…hope they improvise the rapt internet connectivity before I have to thank them again.

Long to go before I sleep…

The Sunday magazine of HT besides me reads that your emotions have a direct impact on your health (fascinated)…

I wonder what emotion results in constipation???

Not to mention, only like thoughts pop up when you are sleepless at night and the arms of clock don’t agree to budge.

If a simile has to be established between my psyche and ‘something’, that ‘something’ would definitely be some session of parliament.

The fuss is no less…:(

Sometimes a bawdy gag pops up from nowhere, the other times some whodunit that I read sometime, fills the air…

A zephyr reminds me about my topping the charts of the TATA’S written test and my recent successful stints everywhere…

And as it crosses by, the blues of nostalgia catapult me back home…

I feel a pang when I realize that I am already half out of my Alma mater…just then, I see her flashing by…

Gaiety, fear, depression, qualms, melancholy, friendship, love… everything hounds my brain today.

Love intrigues me and there is nothing new about it…

But today it frightens me…

I feel a strange fear inside me…

What if you decide that you don't want me there in your life...
I think of December and then I think of the coming may…
I realize the worth of the minor conventions that I do have with you now…
Come this may and I will be like December again…
And come 2012 and I will be like December for the rest of my life…
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sometimes I think that if only I hadn’t seen her, I would have been happier…

Sometimes I regret the day when I came across her for the first time…

But at the same time, I admit that even the penumbra of hers soothes me enough to survive for eons.

I also don’t fail to admit that the day I discovered her, I unpacked the most precious gift of my life…

She seems to be the only meaning of being here…living this.

And the ‘flash cards’, ‘the list’…all come from her.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
I love the feeling…
But at the same time, I hate to love this feeling…
what should i do next??
I don’t see a way out of this mist…

All I can do is to kneel down before the one I have blindfold faith in…GOD

If only he does justice to one and all…AMEN.

P.S. – my resolution: how so ever I may feel, I won’t write anything before mid-sems.

P.S. - get me some kip, man!!

P.S. - …

Special thanks - admin, as always. Thank you for the breakneck internet speed and rapt connectivity especially at important times.

Love happens


What could probably make a boy (one who has to shave weekly, if not daily…) utter just three words in a 45 minute telephonic conversation (that too an STD call…does that matter these days???)?

Before CID takes the reins and finds out something out of the world (ya…they are planning to redo 3 idiots in which they supposedly will arrest Chatur for murdering Joy (if I don’t get the name wrong) and kidnapping Rancho), I will narrate to you the possible cases…

CASE 1: the boy, by mistake, happens to ask his girlfriend ‘KYA KIA DIN BHAR’

CASE 2: his father catches him red handed with his girlfriend (doing something obnoxious if talked in western context…but in India, just being with the girlfriend cooks up the scene).

The odds in favor of case 1 do rarely exist because if he does so, the conversation won’t end in just 45 minutes (such talks continue for eons, but do end with the most beautiful phrase, I love you…)

But when I say that this happened to me, the second case is straightaway eliminated (leave the odds…)

Now that you think anything wild (as wild as masturbating…lol), I should tell you that I live miles away from my dad ;)

Cut the crap…

Btw it wasn’t a conversation (as I wasn’t speaking…neither did I lend it an ear, though I heard it)…it was a beating that, if I hadn’t known that my dad was on the other side, I would have definitely believed as if some horrendous demon on the other side has just tasted blood and is now trying to teleport through the telephone line to have some more (ahh…the connections are all wireless…;)).

This is what happens when your father somehow discovers that you aren’t studying, you have stalled your CAT preparations, you spend recklessly, you are not paying attention to your health, you aren’t putting up to his expectations...blah blah blah…

Framing it in a single sentence… you are behind a girl.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
I stayed up all night yesterday (I do it daily ;)), just to give a thought to what all he had said (blatantly)…

It was 7 when I finally came up with the conclusion that he was right and I should focus on my CAT preparations…

Leave the girl (Alas!!)…

And so did I go to the library as soon as it allowed the cool breeze to get in (according to me, cool breeze gets in at 10 i.e. one hour after they officially open the doors ;))…

I took out the study material that career launcher has provided me along with ‘hullabaloo in the guava orchard’, my dose of 'sort of tea' that owes to keep me from snoozing.

At around 11, I peeked out of the window just to find her there…

(As she hadn’t noticed me, she moved freely and that painted me red…only if she had, I would have felt guilty and she, distressed…btw I too am a human being and definitely not a criminal…)
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was 11 (a few minutes had passed) and I came up with another conclusion that I should focus on my CAT preparations…

But why leave the girl??? (yippeee)

She happens to be the most ravishing backdrop in my every moment…how can I even think of smudging her???
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
I got to frame yet another definition of LOVE…

But all I can say is,

I can tell you a million things that it isn’t, but not one that it is.

P.S. – black is the colour of elegance and the best of all.

P.S. – so...my blog makes me famous in Accenture technologies...and the one who does it, has never met me....he is a reader of mine!! (Thanks Manish)

P.S. – now this is an excerpt from…somewhere…I really loved the lines…
Though I can’t reproduce it verbatim, but I will try to frame it myself…

‘She tripped and fell backwards towards the edge of the cliff. I ran towards her & just when she was going to fall down the cliff I caught her outstretched arm & pulled her back, but the momentum carried me forward.

My t-shirt was flapping like crazy, winds soared past my ears, the hint of her perfume was still there & with it was a feeling of happiness…. or…fear.
I looked back; she was safe. Her face said something but I couldn’t fathom it.

What do you do when you fall in love……………I fell.

When I opened my eyes, I was dead.’

paint you red


Its 3 o' 5 (by my watch) and I am sitting right in front of my laptop with those permanent tabs open in my browser.
Orkut, facebook, my blog, horoscope.com and ganeshaspeaks.com…this is how life moves.
My sun sign is cancer and sometimes I feel that god has cons pirated to strangle me before I die of cancer. And this is the reason behind the two open horoscope tabs (hopes in times of need). I have been following both the sites since September and believe me, horoscope.com is better (they never let you down…whatever they write might prove to be wrong but at least they leave no stone unturned in rejuvenating hopes).
Today, after a million days, I am visible on gtalk (not exactly…I was visible yesterday also)…
And all I am doing is staring at the little red busy status dot of someone (it has been over four hours).
At regular intervals, I do refresh pages and also update my status message just to seek attention of those who are online and have left you alone (this is what you do when your roomie is home).
And this proves quite affective too!
As an upshot of this, I got to communicate with spykar (my buddy) who fed me with the scoop that his life has been painted red again and that too by the painter of his choice, his lady love.
(Committed friends don’t usually have time for singles)
Ya…they had a fight and were at the brink of breaking off. But, its only love that brought back the festivity in their relations and that too on HOLI.
He is timid and she is gregarious. When he first told me that he loves her, I never thought that anything would ever make the two ends meet because I realized that he would never be able to tell her what he felt for her and she would never budge unless he did it himself.
I still remember when on an autumn evening I called him uphill (a scenic place in Bhopal) where she was on an outing with her gorgeous friend.
I pushed him to talk to her (being a common friend) but he stuttered…
She enjoyed my company more than him (yet I am single and he is in a relationship)…
(If only, her friend had liked me…)
But then, he saved her from falling off the cliff (why the hell girls wear high heels even when uphill) and broke his leg (how the hell people get to be a hero when they have to woo a girl…never happens to me)…
It was only then that he summoned up the courage to propose to her (but even then, he spoke the same dialogs that I had written for him earlier) and she did agree (why girls in my case aren’t this lenient...)
That is why they say…pain is the biggest healer
(Do they say anything like that or I did happen to frame it on my own? Anyways, I just mean to say that loss of leg i.e. pain healed his wounded heart)…
I don’t understand why people do not listen to their heart unless they lose something…
What it would have been if only he had fallen of the cliff in his endeavor to save her…
Sometimes hesitations take us nowhere but loss (at times they at least keep us alive with hopes)…
I am a being a bit nostalgic today…after all I have not been to my home and friends for the last six months…
But anyways, before I sign out I would only say…
Happy Holi 
P.S. –
P.S. – the first post script is silence…hope it speaks more than words…

love is in the air...emm...@ CCD :)

I firmly believe that I am good for nothing (though my last two successful stints at quizzing rebuke the same) and others accept it as a matter-of-fact.

Last night, I brooded over the topic, ‘what talents do I possibly have?’, along with one of my buddies (he too is sick of the same phobia) sitting in the canteen till the wee hours (we weren’t drunk, rather I am a teetotal, though he is a sot) just to come out with the resort (since we were feeling drowsy by then) that possibly we are good at establishing public relations, strictly not with girls (my track record shouts aloud) and making a dupe of them (if possibly they fail to dupe us).
(Though my pal tried to impose upon me that I am good at singing, but I stood my ground that I am not ;))

But I won’t devote this post speaking about ‘my scour for my hidden talents’ as I had planned to do.

Not because I realize that I am good for nothing, but because love has startled me once again like every second day.

So finally, I have decided to re-discuss L.O.V.E.

After successfully reading two books solely dedicated to the definitions of love and leafing through ‘n’ number of love stories (I have probably read all love stories, at least Indian) and watching kal ho na ho 21 times (I don’t usually watch movies, this is the only one that I reiterate every now and then), I was too sure of myself being able to answer any damn question regarding the subject, but what I realize today is that if research is required in any subject then it definitely is L.O.V.E.

Not because I have a nebulous idea, but because it has no bounds (considering dimensions, if it can be measured) and every time you find an answer, you discover another question.

I know love…the feeling…credibility of it happening at first sight…the anxiety that it brings (the anxiety not due to insecurity but distances)…and blah blah blah!!!

But, like every other day, a new question has popped up…
Suppose…you are tired like hell, what would you do???
Normal people would either rest or take a pill…

But ….eureka!!

I have invented a magic solution….

Just ask your beloved to cross by or stand somewhere you could see them or else give you a call…

Now, this is a tested solution (at least on me) and you won’t believe that the results are such that the person was found shaking a leg (not just leg…but everything) for a stupendous two hour DJ night.

Now the question arises,” what is that deserts all the weariness???”

Is love that powerful a medicine???

May be, I would spend the rest of the night pondering over this topic as I am not sleepy and the best part is, I am day-dreaming (emm…night-dreaming)…

If only you can tell me the answer to this question, I would love to transform my blog into a discussion forum (you know I won’t do it…better leave a comment stating the answer)

P.S. – believe me, love is the cure to every disease and also the biggest disease itself…

P.S. – I got to know that one of my pals of yore got a year back…love being the reason behind... (hmmm…another question…)

P.S. – if I ever end up with a year back (I won’t)…curse love, not me…

P.S. – don’t try relating things…it’s a web, even I am lost

P.S. - ...

Lost in the mist

I haven’t capitulated to the blatant truth that someday I will end up working in a lowbrow mining PSU (to be precise…CIL) and so I prepare for CAT even when I am melancholic.

The graffiti (not exactly) on the desk that I usually prefer to occupy testifies the same (Though sketching practice, rough drafts of letters, blogs etc are more profound...after all,‘all work, no play’ would make me dull ;)).

Last Friday, I was dismal (not because of the weary lecture).

When not in class, I listen to music (especially death metal) at the highest volume to get on to my nerves and cause me headache…at least this renders me with another issue to focus on…

All I could do was to engrave (I was exasperated) something on my best friend ‘desk’…

I wrote…

Dark, dilemma, delusion…
Dusk, dearth, depression…
(Now you know how I prepare for CAT)
……………………………………………………………………………………

It was Monday and life had been stagnant like a dirty pool of water…
I was dismal, again...

I sat at the same position (I always do)…
Out of frustration I resorted to jot down something…

As I looked down, I read something obfuscated…

Just below what I had scribbled on Friday, I read

Yet is a dawn, yet is a damn direction…
………………………………………………………………………………………

Desk…

It became my tutor for handwriting improvement when I was a kid…
It became my message board when the teacher was strict…
It became my expression when I was glad or frustrated…
It became my accomplice when I had to cheat…
It became my sketch book in Bahuguna’s class (and ever after)…
It became my letter when I was in love (now)…
It became a forum when I had a query…
And now, it helps me in finding solace when I am in pain…

I wish, if it could only have an outreach to someone!

P.S. - if only, I were in class now…at least some ‘graffiti’ might have perked me up.

P.S. - …

Happy valentine’s day

I wait for you...

I know that it will take only a moment for you to cross by, but for me, this slightest convention is divine...

Love isn’t a decision…

It needs no reason to exist…

It’s a feeling…

Pure, selfless and heavenly…

P.S. – if only…

P.S. – this time, i had nothing to say but only a picture to show.

Happy promise day (And teddy day too!)

I jostled with the title this time, as I had started scribbling this one on teddy day but just could not wade through successfully as I was…emm…excited (for the first time in eons).

So, I sat down this morning (I had to miss my classes though) to polish this one.

This sudden surge of excitement comes as a bolt from the blue, provoking a spree of PDAs for teddies (though I had always preferred roses to teddies) on my part.

The best thing with these teddies is that they do not have that easy an accessibility (I hope they do not ;)) like the roses cherish.

Or it might be possible that I am oblivion of their oomph (how can I know if I don’t get to see anything. After all, it wasn’t BASANT).

But at least this saves my heart from mayhem (or may be, from being burnt down to ashes).

Whatever it is, but it has led to a radical shift in my dreams.

Yesterday night, neither did I jump from the water tank nor did consume poison.

What comes as a shocker is that I was strutting in the clouds (I could not emphasize, but it was great).

Though this ‘gargantuan pleasure’ culminated in a sweet eleven hour slumber that prevented me from attending classes today (thanks to my pals who successfully made my proxies), but I can put everything at stake for such ‘happiness’. After all, it was awaited.

(I added one more ‘tad delight’ flash to my album yesterday…but this ‘gargantuan pleasure’ moment sweeps me off my feet).

I have a better definition for ‘happiness’ now (I don’t think I would be able to express, nor I would try…)

I do agree that ‘happiness’ is a ‘mental illusion’ of sorts, but this is true only if pondered over logically.

But, why let your logic spoil the moment?? (Strike your IITian ego dumb)

Sideline the logic and let your H.E.A.R.T do the needful (Just try capitulating to your heart…you will be on cloud 9)

Before signing out, I just want to say that I have started loving teddies (if not teddies, at least teddy day) and a short little note that reads,

                      “i never "hated" u or anythng of the sort as u hav wrttn”

P.S. - …

P.S. – I want to jump but I don’t live single (no pun intended).

P.S. – This moment tops the chart of the happiest moments of my life (of course, I have a few).

SPECIAL THANKS –To the supporting administration of my Alma meter that prevented me from posting this entry though I had finished working on it in the first half itself. I appreciate the ways they ensure the un- interrupted internet connectivity. Hope I don't need to come to CC the next time. 

Happy rose day...

I sit to pen down this one just because I am...eaah... happy (at least I am wearing a smile)

So, capitulating to my avocation ‘writing’ seems to be the last resort for my happiness to ooze out (I can’t jump from the water tank, after all)

 What is happiness??

It is nothing more than a mental illusion because if it is not, I am sure that instances like watching someone walking down the ground, looking at a special someone smiling etc can’t ever bring even a tad delight.

I do have a number of ‘tad delight’ flashes which I have collected over last few months i.e. from the day when I mastered the art of betraying my sweet little heart.

I show appreciation to the few people (better to write one) who actually constitute the star cast of my flashes. Not because they are special to me, but because they keep my spirits high throughout the day though I end up dismal (if not suicidal) every night.

I want to thank this ‘happiness thing’ else, incidences like being lonely in a crowd when you have to have a big smile on your face to greet the people you want to escape and that too on a rose day, when you see the people around giving roses as the token of their feelings (love...to be precise), will definitely strangle anyone (at least me) to quietus (better to say death).

Also, this ‘happiness thing’ keeps everyone informed of your ‘happiness’ (after all it’s you who is smiling).

But, I want to do a resurrection in this ‘happiness concept’. Although I believe that it drives out the clouds of murk (albeit it is not for real) but the fact that this energy goes out in chores that you detest, holds to be true. (I love being quiet and staying back in the room, reading novels)   

I don’t know what changes need to be made, but things need to be resurrected because I am fed up of attempting suicides in the nightmares that wake me up every day from my almost sleepless slumbers.

Before I go to bed after this long tiring day, I wish to say something,

“Happy rose day!...I wish ur lyf wud always remain colrful wth swet fregnence n just lyk d rose....HAPPY ROSE DAY”

P.S. - I wish I could sleep a little longer than three hours today. I don’t want to wake up at 9.

P.S. – I am a teetotal. I would have gone down crates of vodka if I were a boozard.

P.S. – now this is for the few people who say that I should stay ‘happy’...

            “Sory bt i cud nt kep of frm writin dis 1...bt em hapy while em writin dis.”

P.S. – lord, save my soul (and me too)!

emm…7^th December

It sounded like the eleventh hour rehearsal of a tone deaf school time band that perform with unbridled gusto, banging their heads, hissing and yelping at the highest tones of vocal chords but end up blaring like a bunch of fanatic boars. (Someone has rightly said, this music thing ain’t simple…Alas!!)

Another jiffy and the bastards muffled… (As if were taking a nap)

Five minutes down the line and the troop got onto my nerves all over again…

I was infuriated… (The very rare trait of me…)

My anger didn’t find any better way to ooze out and I hit the rogues right in there head with a beer bottle… (Finally I held a beer bottle ;))

The blare waned and that to in a flash…

I was relishing my newly divulged audacity (first time even to myself…) when just in a few split seconds (mind you…few split seconds), I twigged that it was my darling phone and not the bear bottle that was forfeited and the bastards who had waned were Bullet for my valentine, trying to 

WAKE ME UP!!        

(It was my alarm tone)

I peeped into the clock…

OH MY GOD!! It was quarter past eight […and the last chance of grabbing a glimpse of her (At least for the next whole month) would be lost in just fifteen-twenty minutes, I thought]

I was freaking…in vacillating between whether to run, jump or just sob…

My heartbeat count was 106 per min…I wasn’t this nervous when I first appeared for IIT-JEE. I spanked my lousy, rot pal who has been an accomplice to me in all possible outré stuff, out of his slumber.  

We jumped out, grabbed our essentials and galloped downstairs, then down the street and then the road, finally to arrive at the square where I spent most of my mornings, afternoons, evenings and whatever time I could possibly make out of my jam packed schedule (you know, I am too busy…)

It was forty past eight and I was there right on time (err…late!!)

I was being gung-ho with the mere thought of her sight…

Time passed and my patience almost passed away…every moment increased my nervousness.  

My eyes ran down the road with anticipation…longing…

.

.

.

My soul wailed another cry to GOD just to ask the only favor I had (have) prayed every moment for the last few months. 

The willies struck and my heart pounded…I could sense the tears rolling down my cheeks.

I was late…and she had swaggered down the boulevard before I had hit the road.

I had lost it…

.

.

.

They say that the darkest hour is just before the dawn and it’s so true…

.

.

.

She appeared out of the blue, wearing a white shirt, green jacket and a blue jean (…as usual)

The tuft of hair falling over her face made her appear more ravishing…

I fumbled…I pretended as if I was busy with something but failed badly (I was stupefied)

Her eyes seemed to be the only truth; her face, the most precious gem and her smile, everything.  

I was lost…lost in her eyes…

I was truly, madly, deeply in love (I still am…)

 P.S. - …

Special thanks- to my sister who suggested the title (though I don’t like it)

My first LOVE LETTER

Myself Shalabh Malik (in case you still don’t know). I have been sending you messages for quite some time now (to which you never reply L) and I have also been roaming around the nooks and corners in the desperate hope of catching just a glimpse of yours (which I am sure you have noticed). And now, I am writing this manuscript ( it is better to call it a letter) simply because my mind goes numb every time I see you and the part of brain responsible for commonsense goes for a vacation, making me come across as a perfect bafoon.

All the actions on my part might have made me appear a desperate person (despo, as we call it). But I assure you that I don’t have any evil intentions.

I got an impression today that you are scared of me (But why???) which really hurt me. I do not follow you with any bad intentions, neither do I have any. The only fault on my part is that I like you, not from today, not from yesterday, but from the very first moment when I saw you on a bright Wednesday morning on 2^nd September (you were sporting an orange top and a blue jean).

The very sight of you increases my heartbeat, creates a euphoria and develops an ear to ear smile on my face (I swear my condition becomes like ‘dekha jo tujhe yar, dil me baji guitar'). But still, never have my intentions been anything even remotely close to wicked.

I know that we are from different leagues, I know that I am crossing a line or two, I know that my acts have not been the most ‘subtle’ and I know that I might I have been the cause of discomfort for you more number of times than you would like, but I also know that I like you. And this is what makes me helpless. I just can’t get you out of my mind (not that I want to).

I know that you have a bad impression of me. I don’t know how you will respond to this. I really wanted to tell you my feelings as it was getting very hard for me to restrain. It is my earnest request to you that you please do not share this letter with anyone else. I also request you to please reply to this letter in any form you feel comfortable because it really hurts when you don’t reply (it really does).

I am not asking you to like me, but please don’t hate me.

Awaiting a (positive) response ;)

Yours sincerely

Me.

P.S. – This is how my first love letter (also the last one) read. I had worked my heart out in writing it and somehow summoned the courage to give it to her (I was foolhardy) but she didn’t accept itL.