Monday, May 30, 2011

Of being good

The greatest sign of goodness,
is the one we rarely see
We lay down rules so stringent,
not letting a man breathe

We talk of religion and goodness
and worship an image of idealism
But when the time comes to act,
Our souls are locked in a dark prison

In prayers, we find wisdom
As our conscience bleeds
Then we judge and we hate
Oh how humane, indeed!

You can't kill a man,
they say all the time
But for the conscience you murdered
There's no defined fine.

We sing out so loud
With the priest and the choir
then we hate and we hurt
and place our love on the pyre

We speak of goodness
while we're still callous
Shun those who don't fit in
Aren't we all paupers,
filled with but, malice?

We all think we're good,
the man who killed
the man who lied
Because, as long as we sing to the priest
Our cold souls will be redeemed.


Free Falling

I walked like am flying
to the shores of freedom
away from the chains
that bound me
Only to be tied down
yet again,
by a new set of chains


Sunday, May 29, 2011

Bombay 2.0

There are atleast 3 other posts saved in my drafts and I don't know when they will see the light of the day. Slowing down on the blog posts is sadly, only the tip of the iceberg. I taste the salt in the water as I welcome myself back to Bombay.

I love this city- as I never tire of emphasizing to myself, my friends and family as well here, on this page. But things have changed. Prima facie, the city is just the same- traffic at wee hours in the night; humidity that causes one to look deranged, if nothing else; people, oh so many people, caught up in their everyday lives such that struggle becomes normalcy in this city- a status quo of sorts.

Maybe, it's not the city that's changed. Maybe, it's me. As I walked along these fancy streets outside my new home, I realized, this time round, I really am here to stay. I will cry and I will crib and I will vent to anyone that can listen, but this time round, I am not moving. It's not a decision or a choice- it's an instinct.

The only fear I have is of getting consumed. It's a whirlpool of a city and it can consume you without so much as a warning until you find yourself uninspired, exhausted and unable to bear the stench of the sea. It's irony at it's very best if you ask me, because in its truest form, inspiration is all that this city is about.

So that's a cheers to the new life, the new chapter in the old city and a future whose components I know not of!


Wednesday, May 25, 2011

When I bid goodbye...

They watched me,
Just I watched them-
And in some place,
that they couldn't see,


Sunday, May 22, 2011


A throbbing pain
That starts from me
And ends with your end. 


Friday, May 20, 2011

Who are we?

We underestimate our power to restrict ourselves. We underestimate to a larger degree, our power to break out of our own mould.

As we travel our lives armed with what we believe is a clean heart and an intelligent brain, we seldom acknowledge some else's belief of the same things for themselves. Principles are overrated and so is the concept of a 'character'.

How often have we felt that what we did was not like 'us'? How often have we slaughtered someone else's behaviour and called their actions 'unlike them' or 'so out of character'? Well, if it really is not like you to do what you did, why then would you do it? Characters and our definitions of ourselves are derived from our ideals, thoughts and ambitions. Our definitions of others are the consequence of a combination of our perceptions, assumptions and our expectations from them. But, what really makes an individual is his actions. I smile with guilt as I say this because I like to judge myself by my thoughts too.

I am not trying to downplay the impact of one's thoughts and intentions. They are infact very important in the process of making an individual. I simply want to point out that we need to stop glorifying the concept on restricting ourselves to what's like 'us' and what's not. We laugh at the teenagers suffering from serious peer pressure issues and constantly trying to fit in. But subconsciously, we are doing that our entire lives.

If you've bribed a priest to get a better view of your favourite God, then don't justify it by saying that you don't usually bribe and are in fact strongly against corruption. Heck, you took this pilgrimage to 'cleanse your soul' didn't you? You clearly needed to make that bribe to clean it properly. If you are speaking ill of someone, don't start with 'I don't usually bitch but..' Well, you're sure as hell bitching right now! If you've cheated on your partner or broken someone's heart, don't try to justify it by saying it was your first time. The point is, you've still done it.

Everything would be so much easier if we just led a no holds barred life. Why do we try to reduce ourselves by bottling our free spirits only to suffocate them so they eventually, do break the bottle, defy the rules and attempt to break free? It's like when you're parenting- you know fully well that the moment your tell your toddler to not touch something, his curiosity increases even more and he'll touch the object given his first chance. We never grow up about these things. Imposition of rules by others is another thing, but imposition by oneself is an entirely different ball game altogether.

The reason we end up in phases where we find freedom and peace elusive by all measures is simply because we are responsible for binding ourselves by unnecessary rigidity only to eventually indulge in a few acts out of the rulebook.

But even as I write this and feel this, I know that I am going to get back to making rules for myself, holding myself back and calling some actions out of character.

Is this the way we're raised or is this just a more comfortable way to be? A narrow mind, conformism are often the unexpected rescue for the rather lazy ones.


Wednesday, May 18, 2011

A dusty door

The door, it creaks
Even though unopened
Maybe it's the life we hide behind it
Maybe, it's just a broken door.

Shards of the innocence lost
Reduce to dust, now
Dust that settles on the eyelashes
Maybe, it was there all along,
Maybe,that's why I couldn't see.

Inklings of the life I knew,
Fade away into a dusty hue
A blinded vision alike?
Maybe, it's a falsehood so perfect
Maybe, it's an impaired soul.

Damaged dreams so painful
Akin to the spirit so fiery
Maybe, it's a broken memory
Maybe, it's just a fairytale on hold.

The heart, it's bruised and how
Fluttering eyes
That couldn't stop blinking
The mind's a rueful mess now
Maybe, in vanity they found solace
Maybe, it's just a life of pride

A long time ago,
They had grown old together
A time in an alternate space
Maybe, it's a farce- this reality
Maybe, it's just a dream gone sore.

But we'll never know, will we now?
The specks of dust are all I see
Like spots of blood on her soul
Maybe, they cried all along,
Maybe I should have opened the door


Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Killing my favourite love songs

So, there is something about a good old love song that makes the even the most cynical heart melt and the not-so-cynical ones? Well they dance with a joy so profound, you'd think world peace was overrated.

For all the brutalities that I might have subjected boy interests to, when it comes to music, I do love love songs.

But, when you delve deeper into these songs, actually screw that, when you so much as just read the lyrics without the music, even the most popular songs have some ridiculous undertones. Some examples, as you'll find below. What I'd really love, is additions to the list.

One more book idea- Killing the top 100 love songs. I should get paid to think, I'll then pay others to execute.

  1. "Love of mine, some day you will die.."- No seriously, why would you ever say that to someone,  especially the girl you love. Yes I know the song is all about how he shall not part with the girl even after she dies, but what the heck, that's not making either of their lives simpler. Firstly, you write her a song and begin it reminding her of her mortality. Secondly, how is any of the after death assistance/guidance that you offer going to help her pay her rent and live her life well? I see this as a lazy excuse to get away from buying her dinner. 
  2. "Oh yeah I'll tell you something, I think you'll understand.... I wanna hold your hand"- Before I say anything further, I heart Beatles, I do. This song is a personal more-than-favourite. However, just read the lyrics again, without humming them in your head- read it like prose, actually. It's horribly pansy. You build it up so much, make the person think she's going to get some serious insight into your emotions or maybe discover some secret ingredient to solve the volleyball between Jaylalitha and Karunanidhi (I would have ideally used 'finding Osama's wear-abouts' as the perfect example, but Obama has already stolen my thunder) and then you tell her this? You want to hold her hand? Seriously? It almost sounds like a little child's plea- the one who can't cross the road alone. I don't  get the anti-climax, the constant obsession with the hand. With a song like that, I doubt you'll ever go beyond the hand. What would be funnier would be a girl who takes you by your word and promises to hold your hand gaze into the sky, counting the stars with you the whole night. Your hormones can go for a coffee break. 
  3. Your body is a wonderland- Yea, I could not choose any particular line- it's the whole bloody song, that's the problem here. Firstly, this is not a freaking love song! It's  lust. Wait, let me get that right, it's LUST. Pure and simple. What I don't get is why women like this song and then claim to get offended when someone comments on their body parts. Women, and for good reason, do not like to be objectified- Love us for who we are, don't compartmentalize our body and comment on it- they say all the time. But the very same women melt in the knees (where they also hide their brain), listening to a cute white boy describing their skin and their tongue. Is it because he says 'you tell me where to go and though I might leave to find it'. Err... so men and women want the same thing eh? If you want love, we'll make it, as it were. Why the fuss over emotional bonding, man? 
  4. "Wondering in the night, what were the chances. We'd be sharing love before the night was through". Sinatra came to Delhi before he wrote this song. There's no better explanation. Let me first highlight that this ever so famous classic piece of brilliance sugar coats racing hormones in dire need of a one night stand. Nothing about the entire situation is romantic or warm or fuzzy. About Delhi- while you hum this song in your heard and imagine yourself (and here I take it you're a woman) ball -room dancing with an extremely attractive looking, impeccably dressed man with a great body, the truth is, you're most likely fatter in real life and the guy you'd be eyeing after a couple of drinks will not be half as good looking in the morning. The song here is trying to pacify you about drunken mistakes. Especially the time you really wanted to make one but noone was willing to make it with you. I think you should lend some hormones to the guy in point two
  5. "Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can't help falling in love with you." - Read those lines again, sans Elvis, sans the heart melting voice. For those of you who are listening to UB 40 or Buble sing it, please shut this window now (I Like those guys too, but you gotta imagine Elvis on this one). So when you read these lines carefully one last time, you'll find them familiar. I'll tell you from where. This is a forty five year old man taunting his late- thirty-something wife. For the sake of simplicity, let's imagine them to be Punjabi (I'd rather make a mockery of my own community than take the risk of offending another). So what he's trying to imply is that falling in love with you is the stupidest decision he ever made. It makes him question his on wisdom. Actually, he even doubts he made a decision. He couldn't help it he says. It sounds like coercion, to be honest. So ladies, the song that spells romanticism to most of you is actually an exhausted lover telling the girl that falling for her was the biggest mistake of his life and he's ready to acknowledge his character to be that of a foolish dimwit just because of you. The very same line at 17 and 37 can mean such different things, no? 

I shall add to this list, when I think of more. For now, that's enough fodder to ruin some more love lives. 


Only Yesterday

Across or away?
Leaving behind lies,
and tears dry

Only yesterday,
there was me
and there was you
and there was you and me

Secretly deny?
The tight smile
The eyes, ever so shy.


Saturday, May 14, 2011

Sweet Revenge

Since am venturing into becoming the candy floss seeker's be all and end all solution to crappy literature, here is some more food for thought. Now, at one point of time or another, we've always wanted to do nasty things to ex boyfriends/ girlfriends or just the crushes we could never convert.With excellent inputs from friends, I have compiled a list of absolutely immature ways to get revenge. Move over dartboards and crying in the bathrooms, we're now onto better, more dangerous stuff. I've given people credit wherever required, lest they try some of these stunts on me. Now, that would not be funny.

  1. Burn the effigy: It's extremely wise. Anti-establishment people do it. The makers of the establishment do it themselves  In fact, our good old movie fans indulge in a little fire game too. So why not take out a huge photo of the boy/girl in question, walk around the streets near their home in a crowd and burn their effigy. For better revenge, one could resort to dancing around the fire too. While the ridiculous exaggeration to the deed is mine, the title itself comes from a parrot
  2. The AIDS rumour: Before any activists (I doubt anyone who actually has the energy to sue, reads this blog, but nevertheless) get all worked up. I know of the various stages of being HIV positive or the fact that it does not spread by basic physical contact et all. But see as a weapon to destroy the ex- this is just too damn powerful. Writing to your ex boyfriend or girlfriend's current lover that he/she is HIV positive will ensure you wreck their life. Well maybe their new lover is in the deep kind of love and decides to stick with them, so what, you damned well know the sex life is over. Also, in case you're a girl, I'd recommend telling your ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend that the boy has erectile dysfunction. You could stoop even lower and spread a rumour about infertility too but that would not be as effective, in my opinion. 
  3. Host their condolence meeting: This is for those who do not need to scream in anger. Instead, they look like they chose the high road, but are secretly, excellent schemers. So what you do is invite all your close friends, all his/her close friends and the common friends you're bound to have and now get awkward around. Be dressed in white/black or the most suited tragedy struck attire and carry on the entire meeting. Yes, it would be really lame but it will also be extremely funny. Imagine the ex's expression. See, now it all seems worth it? You could be lamer and call it the 'mourning of the death of his/her soul' or some jazz like that. 
  4. Publicize horrible photos of them: Now, I don't mean the secret revealing kind of photos that should not have been taken in the first place. I do however mean crazy, random funny pictures. Like, if you have to annoy a girl, put up a picture of her eating a pani puri or gulaab jamun on a social media platform where her friends can see it. She'll want to shoot you. Infact, forget just social media, ideally, use some photoshop to make the pictures appear more horrible than they are, enlarge them and put up posters in her street or near her place of work/study. If you're a photographer or an ad-maker, you've plenty of opportunities to publicly humiliate the person in question. You can send the ugliest photographs of the ex to awards and the lonely planets and national geographics of  the world as your piece of art. You can also use ugly, horrible pictures for a print ad for some really shady product. Imagine the horror on the ex's face when he/she sees his ugliest photo in ad across a national daily or on an international website! Case in point, the smart sibling of a friend of mine, once printed copies of a photograph of my friend brushing her teeth and distributed it school. See, younger siblings are evil, we should learn from them. 
  5. Date them: Yes, sounds bizzare, now? So firstly you can't do this unless you're completely bitter and want to actually poison the person in question. But think about it, if you manage to get the ex to get back with you, you will actually be dating them while being completely disgusted by them. Which means, you can now embarass them in public as their boyfriend/ girlfriend. Use their parents to take revenge. Imagine going to that party where you're going to meet those friends of the ex you absolutely hated but still pretended to be able to tolerate. Well, now you can drop your drink on their clothes, step on their feet, laugh inappropriately as they tell you a painful story, go to sleep in between a discussion- there is a lot you can do when you date a person you don't actually like. 
So are any of these mature solutions to 'relationship problems'? Hell, no! they are crappy statements a bored mind like mine comes up with when am procrastinating about ten other things I really should be doing. But the thing about these five simple activities is they give you a feverish happiness that you thought wouldn't come back to you since you turned 16. They also make great stories for later, especially the kind you tell your grandchildren when you're old and boring and trying to find a subject to strike a conversation with them on. 

Do let me know what happened if you decide to follow any of these. I'm terrified thinking about the outcome. 


Friday, May 13, 2011

Three types of Jerks

They are all around us- even where we wouldn’t think. They spring up so suddenly and randomly. One can never be warned. However, since philanthropy is but my nature and documenting the theories I derive from experiences, a hobby, I choose to enlighten my audience about the various types of jerks around us. When you see the symptoms, run as far away as you can or you might end up with a broken heart, confused mind or just cynical sense of humour. As for them, while they do not feature on the most wanted lists that get talked about in newspapers, there are enough people out  there who picture disturbing images of broken limbsand bruised eyes of them jerk people.

  1. A.      ‘I’m a jerk, I told you so’ type: This is the classic jerk. He walks around flaunting his jerk powers. In fact he uses it as a way to please the ladies. What’s surprising is, the ladies seem to be mighty pleased. They discuss what a complete non-dateable fellow he seems to be and how capable he would be of leaving a heart broken, yet they fantasize about him all the while and clearly dig him. They land right into all the mines he’d warned them off and end up with not only a broken heart, but also a lower level of respect for their own brain cells. This guy is a jerk and he never denied it. He told you about all his ‘ex-flames’ and the horrible things he’s done. You laughed at those jokes with him, teased him about being angry, called the broken hearted girls silly, all the while thinking in your head, you’ll change this man and this will be your story to tell. Well, Ha! with this type of jerk, I really wouldn’t say it is entirely his fault. He’s a jerk, you always knew it. What ever happened to your intelligence though?
  2. B.     ‘Jerk in disguise of a best friend’: So you’re crying yourself sick about dying single. You’re girlfriends are not helping you with consolatory (not) remarks on the lines of “don’t worry you’re not the only one’ , ‘join the club’, ‘who needs boys anyway?’. You decide to vent out on your guy best friend. You know, the guy you can call at anytime in the night to share a random story, the one you meet almost every day, the one you know you take for granted, the one whose annoying but ‘such a nice guy’.  So in lieu of consolation, he tells you you’re not going to die old and alone because a ‘guy like himself’ would totally dig you! Suddenly your vulnerable self loves the attention and sees the boy next door in a different light.  It’s all mixed now- the love, the friendship and the bond. You’ve found the boy who wipes your tears and all is well.  See, he uses your vulnerability has a weapon to make you dependant on him and then eventually well, show the jerk side. The thing about being on the receiving side of this jerk’s jerk-ness is that this time you are left with a not a broken but an out and out bleeding heart and an absolute lack of respect for your own sense of judgement of character.  Was he always like this? Did you not see it? Was it you? Was it him? You then go back to the girlfriends and say “You were right ladies, we are in this together”.
  3. C.       ‘Pseudo romantic who is actually a jerk’:  So this type is the toughest to uncover and also the smartest of the lot. Let’s say you think you’re done with your share of being err, jerked around (no pun intended, seriously)  and you think you will stay away from everything for a while, lest you land yourself up in a soup again. Along comes our classic type C jerk. He usually springs from nowhere and suddenly seems to be this magnificent physical representation of your dreams, desires, thoughts and ideals. You are scared, cautious (in reality you only think you are cautious by the way) but you still want to ‘give it a shot’. The world now becomes a happier place and you could use Disney’s famous tagline as a summary to your own life. The stars and the moonlight seem to be knitting a beautiful sky, just for the sake of the two of you and the broken and bleeding hearts seem so far away. This time though, the jerk surfaces, just when you’d least expect it and that too, out of nowhere.  At first, you think it’s just a nightmare and you can pinch yourself back to reality. In retrospect of course, you belittle your initial reaction as juvenile. But this kind of a jerk leaves you confused, puzzled and all the possibly related words you can find to these two. Forget about your heart, your instinct or your judgement of character, you’re left feeling downright stupid. Stupid, not because you did not see this coming but stupid because the pseudo-ness that you realize in retrospect was so obviously, well, pseudo. So you put on your brave face, look at the mirror and decide to put a little more kohl into your eyes. (why? I don’t know, women do strange things).

The thing about jerks is, they come in different packages and shapes. However the above three are broad categories you can classify most of them into. How many have I encountered, those of you who know me are thinking. Those of you who know me too well are already smiling with what you think is the answer. But I’ll be honest, I’m just bored. Also, I try to be funny to then document my attempts at humour. Who knows, someday I’ll write a book on jerks. If ‘One night at a call centre’ can sell, it is God’s way of telling mankind that anything can sell. True Story!

P.S: Up next, will be a post on the strange things women do. If not next, then soon enough.  I don’t know how honest I can be on that one- I do love my life. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned- it’s the truest statement I’ve ever come across!

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Her secret lyric

"This is what you'd dreamed of"
he whispered to her
she smiled back-
distantly, longingly

She watched her hands in his,
She watched her tears too
How they landed on the back of his hand
Uncontrollably, silently

In another world, she thought
This was rapture indeed.
In another world, she reminded herself
Painfully, loudly

The other world seemed dead now
Murdered, almost
Just traces of blood to wipe off the heart,
Slowly, painstakingly

She looked up into his bewildered eyes
How flustered he must be
So she walked away and bid goodbye
Secretly, suddenly


Thursday, May 5, 2011

The thing about memories is

they fade away but never really erase themselves.

They linger on in some part of the sub conscience, shape our reactions to situations and suddenly, out of nowhere stand right in front of you reminding you of a time you had chosen to put behind yourself.

The thing about memories is, you believe you're done with them, but you know you're really not.

Tragic, no?

The insignificant post


But why do I fear then? 

Maybe, am tired of the old fight

Sunday, May 1, 2011


I've been thinking on this subject for a while now.The term is often used loosely, but never explained enough. Inspiration is extremely subjective and even more personal. But we hear so many stories of what's inspired people through generations, that as overdone as this topic might be, it is still discussed with a tinge of novelty, excitement every time.
So what is it that I hear inspires people? Love seems to be the most common answer. Then there is family, a romantic involvement, a heartbreak, nature, the sea, mountains, beautiful locales... the list, not surprisingly is endless.

I'm a beach person, through and through. I love the sea. I can just sit and watch it for hours, listen to the slow rhythm the waves knit and just the very sound of water. I like the mountains too, for the calm, the serenity they have to offer- a complete contrast to the stormy sea that I personally favour, yet a subtle sweetness in its own way. But you know what really inspires me? People.

I could sit for hours facing the sea or spend a lazy morning on a hammock in the hills but I wouldn't know what to write or even think about if it wasn't for people. I like peace and I like the sense of isolation- infact it is more than necessary at times. But I draw my inspiration, my challenge, my love and my hate from people. Not to say, that I love their company at all times. However we underestimate the power to be social and yet be, but a mere observer to society's way of life. You know when I think the most? By the night, in the complete darkness of my room; on the road with heavy traffic while it's raining cats and dogs; in office while working on an excel sheet and talking to ten people at the same time.

This is the same reason I choose to spend fifty hours a week being a corporate slave (corporate whore, some might call it, but this aint a good time to be brutal). Everyday,while I tick things off my joblist, I acquire skills- these skill sets that are essential to a good life- marketing, working with people, management, leading, being led... oh there is so much to learn. Everyday, I interact with a large number of people- each of whom I wouldnt exactly name my 'loved ones' , but each of whom open my eyes to new reactions and expressions, without fail. And well am a marketeer- consumer behaviour is my be all and end all and I guess that's just why I know I'll stick to this line for a while.

I love people, I live on their reactions. I can go back to so many instances where I've said stuff only to get a reaction out of people-  to shock them; surprise them; thrill them; excite them. The variety of emotions are aplenty and the variations of expressions just awe-inspiring!

I like to be in the middle of the drama, the crowd, the party, the not-so-much-party, enjoy it, live it to the very fullest and then suddenly retreat, back to my darkness, to the comfort of my room or a windowsill where I can feel the rain and open my parrot green laptop and keep writing.

Its funny how the anti-society moods are driven by society and yet the anti-society moods are but, for the sake of society.

People- my challenge, my inspiration, my reality but the catalyst to my imagination.


Sepia Printed

A wooden frame that rots
Because of the memories it holds
Rusty ironed
Of Stories, you'd once been told.

Black and white glimpses
Of a childhood gone and how
Do you believe in magic, still?
Do you fear the local clown?

For all those years,
You heard fables
Of talking dogs
And nomadic tribes

Did you ever think,
those years too,
Will become but a witch
Teasing you with memories sly?

The wooden frame ,
has more to tell
Unknowingly, decades had passed by
Slowly in the photograph,
You see your grandmother's eyes dry.

A clot in the heart,
as you remember her smile
And the little pranks you played
How she always liked your new sun-dress
Or the way you made your braid.

Through sepia and black and white,
Through childhood and gypsies,
Through fables of nomadic tribes,
You knew you'd lost that innocence, little.