HAPPY NEW YEAR

"To be born again," sang Gibreel Farishta tumbling from the heavens, "first you have to die. Hoji! Hoji! To land upon the bosomy earth, first one needs to fly. Tat-taa! Taka-thun! How to ever smile again, if first you won't cry? How to win the darling's love, mister, without a sigh? Baba, if you want to get born again . . ." (.........) "I tell you, you must die, I tell you, I tell you,"
-Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses.


It’s the last day of the year and in the early morning twilight I lazily stretch myself and look at the still shimmering stars above. No, it’s not like I am sleeping in the open. I just pasted little fluorescent star stickers on the ceiling of my room. It provides for a much-relaxed ambience. Bapu comes up to me and no, he's not the grumpy-types today for some strange reason, neither does he kick me out of bed with his 'whole day doing couch garam' patent dialogue. Instead he just sits by and reminiscences on the long year gone by. He tells me, as I hear blanket-draped mucus-eyed, about Change. There is apparently nothing permanent except change. Not even my lucky red underwear which I have been wearing since the last four years on certain special tension-walah occasions with actually, no effect. But still!! The world changes so do places, things, relationships, girlfriends(!), boyfriends(?), jobs, bosses, secretaries, moods, mobile phones...they all change. Even people. Believe me. I had more warts this year than last time. Time transcends at its even pace and the present moment slips on to the next.

And bapu leans down and almost in a whisper tells me to change as well...for the better. Now that would pose a real problem, I think!! He tells me to resolve, to pledge, to oath that in the coming year I will do so. Resolutions huh?!!

I wonder! Resolutions are meant to be broken but then in the finest tradition that has been going on since time immortal, I do have to make a list. And I am already up with one! I resolve not to bitch about anybody in the coming year. That’s too much to ask for me but then a little effort won't do me any harm. Though it means less entertainment for my drinking partners while we have our evening binge together and I'll also have to cut down on my colourful expletive vocabulary that I have so specially developed for some people. Yes, nevertheless! So even if you ask me, in the coming year, about say...Maria, I would still restrain myself because of my resolvement and probably shut my mouth off. Because since there is nothing good about her I would have nothing to speak for her. And silence is golden and more times than often, it hints exactly at what's left unspoken!! So there you are. All done! All set!!

I throw away the blanket and jump off the bed and as soon as my naked feet touch the bare ground I freeze in attention. Brrrrrrrrr...its damn cold!!!

Anyway folks, thanks for bearing me this year. Next year is going to be more nastier!! Wish you a HAPPY NEW YEAR! Party on!!

Just an afterthought: When I thought about the evils of drinking in the New Year. I gave up thinking.

EVENINGS AT MARINA

(NOTE: Subtitled: 'The white rabbit dies...'
Location: Marina beach, Chennai.)

This is a sequel to my previous post, "EVENINGS AT VIZAG", but unlike in Vizag where I had come to deal with my identity crisis, its wartime in Chennai.

As evening shows up, I dig my way out from the yellow sand where I had buried myself for the last twenty-four hours. A little trick with a plastic pipe helped me breathe and survive. Sand sticks to my beard which flows down to my belly button making it look like an upside-down anthill. I brush off the tiny homophilic crabs who were till now having a great time tickling my privates. I breathe in the salty air and almost immediately start readying myself for the battle.

My journey from the sleepy town of Vizag to this hot and humid metro of Chennai had been much tedious with me autodidatically preparing myself with sword-play and kite-flying and target shooting using the archaic form of archery which forms the crux of my encounter with the white rabbit. I should have been here enjoying a drink with tiger prawns and grilled calamari salad but so much for life to show its twisted face in the times of such global sullenness. Rage fills me and watch how I flare my internally finger-printed nostrils. I used to bemuse little non-undies wearing children and also at times lonely married fat-bellied mole-faced women with my flary nostrils but as of now I mean it only to express my furor. This purportedly act is to ensure I drive out all demons from my mind. I stand at the extreme end of my bipolarity and before my schizophrenic mind succumbs to the 'world-is-ending' illusionary reality I must take appropriate emergency measures. Even if it means going to war!! With the moon!!!!!

Chennai claims to be the land of the yellow sun. What amazes me first-on is people stand so indifferent here unlike the Vizagens. Men, bear-chested and lungi-draped revel around with women draped with real yellow-gold jewellery at the beach, the Marina- which marks itself as the longest beach in India. At times of low tide with my short-sightedness I would feel like I am in the middle of a desert! And Lo! I sight a sarder walking up towards me. Which itself is a paradoxical statement. A Sardar in the land of Madrasis!! I recollect the old joke in which a Tamilian asks a Sardar, "Tamil terema??" and the Sardar in his grunty voice replies, "Oye! Punjab tera Baap." (Here greater emphasis should be given to the P-syllable in the Baap word in order to have the desired Punjabi aftereffect).

Anyway, Midnight approaches and the people are snoring away, the tide is here and the clouds have parted to reveal the white rabbit hiding in the full moon. Time for some regal action, I would say!

The moon laughs at my nakedness. Not that I am naked in the literal sense of the term but more in my unpreparedly stance for the battle. Its true I did not carry along my Hanzo sword with me but hey hey HEY!! I have the arrows sharpened enough to pierce the toughest of all tough hearts to fight back the parasitic white rabbit in the moon. I whip my armory out in a flash and you can immediately hear a whimpering somewhere. Scared already!!! I swing it in the air and let go...it slips away and rears itself for the much-awaited blow. Watch how high it goes...up up and away! For a lunar experience as no other!!

The white rabbit controls the moon. Of all lovers delight, it wretches their life with its evil red eyes. It makes them bow down to its sorcery. And I with my bow, plan to bring it down. I let out my arrows one after another but the rabbit is not as innocent as it seems. It has tricks up its sleeve. It makes the moon wax and wane and escapes my yellow-frog poisoned darts. It makes the waves rush towards me in order to unbalance my stance but I run. On tiptoes I dance away the fury of the night. The waves crash around me but I have mastered the art of war. Of self-defence. It makes the wind blow dirty sand into my eyes to blind me but I coolly pick on my night shades and requite on. The rabbit brings the clouds in to shield itself but its armour is no match to my fury. I rip run roar into the wilderness of the dark night and all the sparkling stars lose their shimmer and die. The white rabbit picks them up and meteors them away towards me but I hunch and hide and shy away. A burning star sets afire my rusty beard and it singes down in a crackling of a sound. But my determination is unburnt. I hurl packets of wet sand into the eyes of the white rabbit to blind it. It makes the rabbits eyes grow redder with effect. It grumps with fiery delight but soon gets to defence as I strengthen my attack with full flow. The cracks begin to appear. Stains form on the surface of the moon. The rabbit is tiring. The waves have started to cease and the wind has mildewed its howl. I can feel the end is near. And finally, with one crackling shot, I pierce the white rabbit in its heart.

Silence prevails. The moon disappears. Darkness surrounds me. I can only hear the sound of the smothering waves. Fireflies lit up the sky in rejoice. The stars appear twinkling. Aquarius, Phoenix, Sagittarius, Orion, and the much-feared Scorpius. I am victorious. I drop back and fall on the soft sand. I let the glory slowly sink into me as the frothy tired waves come and kiss my feet. They worship me and bring me gifts from the deep sea. Starfish crawl on my belly and bivalves and clams envelop my exposed soul. Sea dogs (which are to mean stray dogs that live near the beach) crowd me and howl at the moonless night. Those tiny homophilic crabs are back doing what they do best. But do I look as if I mind?! I feel blessed and calmness overcomes me.

The journey to the Dark side of the Moon was started by a single step in an unwelcoming direction. But I have laid down my demons and fought with all my heart to come out triumphant in all respects. I harbour on with the knowledge that the moon will be back with its innocent shine and the white rabbit will just be a shadowy figurine as a dark reminder that good prevails over evil.

Maria who is shit scared does not grunt about any photo-shotos this time.

The third and final part of this trilogy will be posted soon.

WISH YOU WERE HERE

Inspired by the classic Pink Floyd song by the same name, Wish You Were Here is dedicated to 'the only person I ever loved'.

Wish You Were Here.

Angry jaws of bald hill-tops
Echo back your name.
I demystify myself
To beat life at its own game.
Sorrow clouds me
As rays of joy seep in
Everytime I think of you.
And I put on a false grin.
Wish you were here
To banish this damp darkness away
And lead me to wonderland
Before I call it a day.
This surreal calmness
Only adds to my fear.
Of all the things I wish for.
Wish you were here.

(unknown subject)

Long long time, no see.

Cuz as busy as a bee.

There are people who will miss

And others who will wish.

Against me coming back.

Cuz my posts (they claim) lack

The sanity of mere mortality.

I go beyond their mediocrity.

 

DEATH'S ANGEL

Maria the bitch is dying.

I sit by her bedside. Its been eight days she is vaging a losing battle with Death and simply refuses hell to take over. Stubborn that she is, even in this last journey of life she will have her way. She had been suffering for long and Death when it comes with its soothing voice will relieve her of her misery...and mine too. For now when I hold her hand and look at her kohl-lined eyes, pudgy with tears, I feel like the most desolate man on the planet. Helpless Lonely Wretched. Unable to bring Maria back to her normal impish self. I remember the times we shared when she would so royally, without regret screw my happiness. I would cry out then, scheming ways to get her out of my way. How Naive Immature Inconsiderate had I been! I run my trembling hand across her golden silken hair as time bids its final farewell with each ticking excruciating second.

She looks at me. There is no fear in her eyes. She is slowly stumbling into wicked Death's arms. She tries to get up. She wants to say something. But I already know. "I will miss you too", I say as I gently caress her. A tear drop escapes my eyes And then she lets go...justlikethat. No fuss. Her face frozen with that final attempt to speak the last word (as usual).

Silence. Long Silence. Fucking-somebody-make-some-noise Silence.

O Maria! Sweet Maria!! Your memory will waft in the air like oxygen. It will be the essence of my survival in this world. For in times good and bad (and other times too), you will be missed as such the cavity in my heart formed by your departure would be filled by no one. And I will look up in the sky each dark night and be touched by the stars knowing you are now one of them. I will feel the breeze blowing from my seventh floor curb and be assured it brings me love and kisses from you. I will get drenched in the rain which will be your forbearing. The 'Eternal Sunshine of My Spotless Mind' will now always be a tad mellow than usual.

And then...there is a sudden splutter. Involuntary movement of scary arms. *Cough-Couf Cough-Couf* To my astonishment Maria holds her resilience and springs back to life. With one huge gasp of life she breathes back. Its a miracle. She has throttled Death in its own game. I am too stunned to speak. She holds a wean smile and her eyes are luminous with renewed energy.

I hold her in my arms and weep. A thought escapes the back of my mind.

"Fuck, this is such a cruel twist to my happiness. I should have emptied the full bottle of rat-poison in her evening soup."

DAY TRIPPIN!!

 

Naked feet, I walk,

On Grass!!

Is it I? I, is it??

Or is it the Earth

SpiNning??

 

Music of the rhythmic

Humping of ants,

Roars into my left ear.

Right ear tunes...

To passing of the CLOUDS.

Trance??!!

 

Rain falls in little pellets,

Explode all around me.

I catch a drop,

Slice with a knife.

Colours sCream.

VIBGYOR??!!

 

Through the airy stairs,

I reach the the sky.

Part the clouds to swallow the Sun.

With darkness around I smile.

Light escapes throu' gaps.

No sound this time.

 

 i think and am there.

i blink and AM back.

So i wink-wink!!

The other me laughs.

i open my wings.

And fly far FAR away!!!

THE TURNING BRAIN

No matter how late you are, you will always tread with care on a wet slippery floor. And as I trod at the station with little baby steps I let out a silent prayer that I will get my train. And with wonders of wonders, I arrive at the platform to find out that it hasn't arrived as yet. Monsoon-magic!!! I am tempted to let out a whoop of joy. I ask a bystander, "What time does the 08:08 Kalyan arrive?" and he looks at me in slow-mo with sad droopy eyes. I can feel his grief.

Somehow my mood is uplifted. I know at the back of the mind that I am late, the train is late and eventually we both are going to be late but the perceptive thought that I have managed to get my daily train defuses all worries around. The Logic completely overrides Time; ticktock...tick-tock...theek-thak!!!

And Singh who is always on his toes to find faults in me refuses strangely to acknowledge the fact that I am late, again. Can this be considered a miracle? (Anybody who does know Singh would readily agree!!!)

But what have I done here?!! I scratch my ass and think!!

Perceptively I am not late because I did catch my 08:08 train...no matter if I did so at 08:20. I let myself think that way. That little strand of belief creates a tiny positivism which radiates around like light from a lamp. It creates pathways into the minds of other people, overthrows hurdles along the way and eventually speaks what you want to project.

You do not need to wait for a train to realise that a positive thought can be miraculous.

You do not need anything else to create a positive thought.

You do not need anything because you can create your own miracles.

This mind-altering illusion, I know will be shammed by many but do you realise what all you can do with it. The possibilities are endless limitless infinite. But you have to keep faith...in yourself. Believe!! And nothing will be impossible.

Think! Think!!

Each one is born with it though each may perceive it in a different way. But miracles do happen...in little ways, all the time. Feel it!! You may credit it to a stone statue, some girl, a lucky underwear...but in the end its YOU that creates the magic.

Work on and believe. Send a thought across the universe. It's all yours.

Fly, I

A pair of comfortable glares

A little bit of sunscreen.

Would help you surely, yes.

For I am out to soar

High beyond your farthest thoughts.

Watch me, you will!

 

WHAT IS AND WHAT IS NOT

Strands of memories shared

Adds sparkle to nostalgic-lane.

Like perfume it wafts in the air.

My bed is livid with tearstains.

 

I tell myself, 'I dont love you.'

And who am I to blame.

I cant fool you with this affectation.

Its so outright an excuse lame.

I am such a lowly fool.

Force me into your heart.

Let me stay, cross-chained.

And never do me apart.

 

Far like a shimmering star,

How I try best to let things be!

Some part of me contradicts.

I do miss you terribly.

SHAMANISTIC

Simi Shaman with his bolder of a drum

Dances to 'The Rage of the Satan' song.

The beads play to his tune

Traversing the axis mundi,

Making him expectantly vulnerable

To the sights of the surreal world.

Of one's involvement that takes

A lifetime. Worth the projected risk.

Simi Shaman prances the length

Of the room. Feet barely on the ground.

The spirits take on his call,

While he shunts them with open blinds.

And seeks pleasure, he the purveyor

Of life and beyond into the cosmos.

The dance rages, the feet moves,

The music will keep playing on...

BULLET-PROOF

Excitement filled Subedar Krishnan.

His unit had the old system undone.

Now with new golden bullet-proof vests,

They were well prepared in their quest.

To capture the dreaded dacoit Gill.

Who killed simply 'cause it gave him a thrill.

Many had died, shot in their hearts.

Such was Gill's great unerring art.

But the Subedar was now unstressed,

Proud with his new bullet-proof vest.

He will cast aside the past shameful scars

And throw Gill behind the smelly bars.

Wearing the vest, he went ahead.

The foxy Gill shot him in the head.

GRASSHOPPER COLOURING

Look look closely-eyed at my Machete,
How it glistens in the glaring sun.
The grasshopper green has turned red
And hopping around in anticipated fun.
The headless women come to me
And beg me for unforgivable forgiveness.
But their pity-patter rainy wailing
Makes me Machete-shove into their rectus.
Silence falls as my Machete speaks.
I work with artistically swish-swash poses.
I cut each one in my forbidden path.
Flesh, free-falling like tiny petals of roses.
Rage has filled me, My nostrils flare
As each despaired soul I send to her doom.
Blood splatters spray-paintlike on the grass.
Red on the grasshopper green dries to maroon.

QUOTE OF THE MONTH

"When you are young you are given a good view of life, because of your closeness to birth," - Sidney Nolan

NORMAL IS ME!! -Part I

I wore.
My left shoe on my right.
My right shoe on my left.
And strode around
With wide alternating steps.
People gaped.
No one asked me why?
I walked along,
Oblivious to the fact
Something could be wrong.
I reached home.
Sat on my chair.
I crossed my legs.
And lo!
Everything seemed fine.

EVENINGS at VIZAG

A first in part of a triology. Subtitled: Journey for peacedom. Location:RK beach, Vishakapatnam.

After being fleeced by Hyderabadi autowallahs and harassed by Vijaywada booking clerks I finally reach Vizag. I head to the beach and sit down; bespectacled, barefooted, cross-legged...its the Lotus Mudra posture. The bikini-clad foreigners come and snap photos around me assuming me, considering my handlebar moustache and beard, to be some baba, fakir, miracle man...of mystical India!! I try not to ogle at their breasts. I stare ahead at the far horizon aware that I am looking at the Bay of Bengal. I wonder if I could swim through I would reach...Mumbai. The world is round remember!!

And in this east coastal horizon where the sun never sets I came to find some peace. I feel the cool wind ruffling my hair. My nipples stiffen with the chill and due to those women around I find something else stifling too.

But I close my eyes and concentrate. I imagine a ring inside a ring inside a bigger ring. A series of concentric rings. And I pick up colours and paint them. Bright red orange purple. I feel peace at heart, my faith is restored. Those eccentric rings are the symbols of never ending joy, strengthing with each one to its core. I light up a fag and allow the waves to gently kiss my bottom.

I go to the beach side shack and order a large antiquity blue and extremely spicy tiger prawns. Heaven! Here I rejoice!!

And Maria blurts in, "Why don't you click some photo-shotos. Its such a beautiful place."

I flatly tell her to fuck off!

(unknown subject)

N.B.: The author refuses to publish any new posts for a few days because he is a little pissed off with his world right now.

Much more actually!!!

 

P.S.: He is pissed off most of the time!!!!

SATANIC VERSES

"You cannot love everyone; it is ridiculous to think you can. If you love everyone and everything you lose your natural powers of selection and wind up being a pretty poor judge of character and quality. If anything is used too freely it loses its true meaning. Therefore, the Satanist believes you should love strongly and completely those who deserve your love, but never turn the other cheek to your enemy!" -- Anton LaVey, Church of Satan.

THE FIREFLY EFFECT

Lampyridae is a family in the beetle order Coleoptera, members of which are commonly called fireflies, lightning bugs or (ambiguously) "glow worms" due to their conspicuous nocturnal (or, more accurately, crepuscular) use of bioluminescence to attract mates or prey. Fireflies are capable of producing a "cold light" containing no ultraviolet or infrared rays, with a wavelength from 510 to 670 nanometers, pale reddish, yellowish or green in colour, with a lighting efficiency of up to 96%.(Source: WIKI)

And why, so must you be thinking, that I am writing about something as wayward as a Firefly!! It's because yesterday as I was savouring the surreal sights of the night sky hand-in-hand with my partner and professing my profound love to her, I swallowed one. Actually it flew right in and now my heart is aglow.

COME BACK TO ME

Turn me inside out

and without a doubt.

You will hear a tweet

of my heart beat.

It sings to your tune.

Come back to me soon.

VILLAGE LIFE

A four part memoirs of my week long official trip to Kudthini Village, Bellary.

1. 'COPTER IN THE SKY
Thorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Flies the helicopter away.
The toothless elders gape in wonder.
The men waste no time & point fingers.
"Helicopter! Helicopter!!"
Proud of something they know.
The naked children run about.
"Ayeayeayeayeayeayaaaaaaa!!!"
The village head calls out.
"Hide! Hide!!
If somebody pisses in there,
Will rain on your heads."
The children scatter away.
"Ayeayeayeayeayeayaaaaaaa!!!"
The pandit sounds the bell.
"This is a bad bad omen."
The children run on its trail.
Trying to scare it away.
"Ayeayeayeayeayeayaaaaaaa!!!"
The women look with dreams
In their eyes. Of a suitable
suitor who will whisk them away.
Thorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
The helicopter finally disappears
Into the forbidden horizon.
The men go back to
Chewing gutka & smoking beedies.
Women back to pumping their chulla.
Children back to play with their chippies.
The village head comes out
Scratching his balls.
Proud of an effort which has
Nothing to do with him.
He has got stories to tell.
Talk & banter. Music & play.
"Ayeayeayeayeayeayaaaaaaa!!!"
Back to their chores.
The village folk.
But today is a special day.
A helicopter came in their lives.


2. THE VILLAGE BUS
A wooden shed 12 by 12
And open space around.
It's the village bus stop.
Hundreds of people
Hustle-bustle waiting
for the bus to arrive.
I am the only one
Wearing shoes.
Original Adidas, is it?
Men with unkempt hair, beard, moustaches.
Women as black as the new moon.
Children, too many
with nose goo dripping from their faces.
Sheltered at the bus stop
From the soarching sun.
I find some place to breathe.
Sleep Squat Shit Smoke Scream.
Everything's allowed in here.
As the bus comes, the people
Attack like scavengers.
Through windows, back doors, on the top!
They hang for their lives.
The bus too feels the brunt.
A tin box on four wheels.
Entering is an ardous task.
Mumbai local trains are easier to handle.
I push and shove, finally!!
The seats are empty, relief!!
But!!
Filled with handkercheifs, empty bottles, bags.
And what do I see here,
A child's underwear too.
The seats are already booked.
Talk about reservations!!
I find some space again to breathe.
There always is, space!!
More space, impossible space for everyone.
The bus rattles away and so do my bones.
I give Kamasutra poses,
To keep from stepping on someone's toes.
I pray for my life,
As more more people push in.

3. LAUGHTER CLUB
I am stared at.
"Sir, Big man, Sahab."
Its the Bisleri which attracts.
Big thing here, the fact:
I drink bottled water!!
----------------X-------------------
WIth pain stained teeth he chews.
And with his palms makes
Another ball of rice and throws in
His mouth with unerring accuracy.
"Dal??" I ask.
And he roars his head back & laughs.
WIth rice-balls in his mouth, it chokes.
But still more laughter.
"See", he says, "This is sambhar
And this is rasam here. Different things.
You mix, make ball, throw in mouth. Simple things.
You want Dal? Hahahahahaha!
You will get Doll, if you insist.
Brightly painted earthern doll.
If you have heart-break,
If your girlfriend run away,
You can break it to pieces.
Hahahahahahaahahaha!"
I have learnt my lesson.
I eat quietly whatever is offered.
------------------X---------------------
"Hahahahahaahahahaha"
They all point fingers & laugh.
"Don't know Kannada?
Illa?, illa??
Poor thing, Dunce fool.
By the way, watch your pants!!"
Its like, if I don't know the language,
Am not fit for anything in the world.
Their part of the world, that is.

4. LOVE'S THE REASON
I work for 14 hours a day
In this sweltering heat.
Travelling itself takes 4 hours.
And yet I am up each day,
WIth a smile, raring to go.
"But why?" People ask.
"Push yourself so much."
"Challenge??" Too cliched a reply.
"Money??" My friends know thats not what I live for.
"Then why? why??" people question.
"I want to see", I say,
"How much I can sustain.
Face torture and still be calm.
There was a time when
I was in love, or was I?
See, I am still confused!!
When frustration ate into
My brains like live maggots.
And I am still alive and
This is not one percent
of what I endured before.
So here I am with a song on my lips.
Love's the reason,
Which keeps me alive."

ROCKET SCIENCE

A couple making out: Come on. Can't you even undo the hook. It's not rocket science.
Doctors at the opt room: Come on. You just cut open with a scapel, remove the appendix out and just sew it back. Its not rocket science.
Stockbrokers: Come on. If it falls you buy and when it rises you sell. Simple! Its not rocket science.
Maintenance Engineers: Come on. If its not working, first check out if it has been plugged in to the power supply. Its not rocket science.
Sculptors in Byculla: Come on. Just imagine the object in your mind and chisel away the unwanted parts. Its not rocket science.
Scientists at Sriharikota: DUH!!!

THE COURTSHIP

Padma farts.
And then says sorry.
I hold my breath.
Padma speaks.
And spittle flys.
I dodge each bit.
Neo bows down to me.
Padma brags.
Master bugger that she is.
Open-eyed I put myself to sleep.
Padma cooks.
What even dogs won't eat.
I swallow each morsel
With a bottle of wine.
If only I would have known,
I would never have courted her.

TIRED MORNINGS

Sometimes I am the king of the world.
Sometimes I feel like a loser.
I know it is the Bipolarity nuisance.
How I wish to break free.

I fight battles in my mind,
With my mind, and the others
In my eccentric mind.
Mindless mind games all night.

This irrationality of life
Puts me off, I sleep
And run around finding an escape.
Mornings, as a result are tiring.

MEIN LäCHELN

I smile while I brush my teeth.
I smile everytime when I eat.
I smile as I travel in the train.
I smile even as somebody eats my brain.
I smile when things are going down.
I smile even though I am no clown.
It isn't that I am crazy or something.
I am, what makes my life interesting.

MY IMMORTAL

I wear a mask of sanity
And march toward immortality.
But deep inside my troubled heart
I find no reason for which to start
Life anew, now that you are not there,
It is just too much than I can bear.
Your voice lingers still in my head.
With closed eyes I see you instead.
At times I am so heartily glad.
At times it drives me mad.

SLEEPING ON THE SOFA

SLEEPING ON THE SOFA - 1
Am sleeping on the sofa.
Dreaming through the night.
I wonder, Make no blunder.
Am sleeping, Don't put on the light.

The moon shines at the window.
The stars out there are few.
The rabbit smiles at me.
I ask him about you.

Far far somewhere.
I know you are thinking too.
Never have known you but
Already in love with you.

DYING LOVE-2
O Anita!
Hear my heart beat
Scream out your name.
I will love you.
I will kill you.
No shame.
{Repeat}
{Sexy Anita: oooooooh}

ANIMAL TRICKS-3
{Naughty Anita: You are the handsomest pig I have ever seen.}

Reason to live .
Reason to die.
You are the one,
Worth the try.
The flowers bloom.
The bees they croon.
I sing along.
Morning to noon.
Look at me dance
The dirty tune.
Willing for you,
Be a cartoon.
I jump around.
The sofa creaks.
Laughing you.
I am a freak.
Pleasing you.
A fan loyal.
You make even
Pigs look royal.

{Unconvinced Anita: Ummm...Now I want to see a monkey.}

Reason to live .
Reason to die.
You are the one,
Worth the try.
Banana tree.
Up so high.
The monkey climbs.
Oh my my.

{Estatic Anita: Yoohoo!! Muah! Muah!!}

SEX ON THE SOFA-4
The Music plays on
The wine tastes good.
The mood is set.
"Oh yes I would."

Undress me and
Look into my eyes.
The good is all done.
Let me hypnotize.

The valley becons
The peaks are ablaze.
You taste good.
I am in a daze.

{Horny Anita: Harder!}

Flesh meets flesh.
Fluid meets fluid.
Strikes the pointed arrow,
There, the naked Cupid.

The sofa reverberates
As I thrust and flay.
You do the same
As you moan and stay.

"You are beautiful."
I say and caress.
"One more time."
"Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh yesssss!"

{Orgasmic Anita: Hmmmm}

SLEEPING ON THE SOFA (REPRISE)-5
I shout my head off.
It rolls down on the floor.
Hands reach forward.
Kicked out of the bedroom door.

We talk about things,
Never agreed upon by us.
Time flies by
as all we do is cuss.

{Angry Anita:
What the fuck baba?!
There's bills to be paid.
You sleep on the sofa,
All day completely unfazed.}

Sun sets behind my sofa.
The night is long and lonely.
She must be sleeping fine.
Home but so unhomely.

I dread the days to come.
Never thought it to get so far.
I dream of better things.
I am sleeping on the sofa.

{Dreaming Anita: &#*%#^}

NO SORRY, NO WORRY-6
{Wicked Anita: I feel so so sorry for you.}

What the fuck has got
To me is the fuck itself.
I wallowfy into the dark
To restrain myself.

But the rage within
Raises such a din.
Balloon and a pin
And a bottle of gin.

Blood splatters,
Bitches scream
When I twist the metal
Into their spleen.

Don't be so so sorry.
Don't sympathy me.
Sorry for yourself.
A day will you be.

{Scared Anita: Yikes!!}

Nobody could dream.
The fate you choose.
The body on the floor.
Whose Whose Whose???

Your sexy pink dress
Has now so so bled.
Covered all over.
Tides of crimson red.

Steel, it glistens
As I twist pull shove.
Just to be sure.
With all my love.

Its so so sad.
Laugh on you bighead.
You won't be sorry
Now, 'cause you are dead.

{Dead Anita: ...}

BROKEN SPRINGS-7
The bugs crawl on my skin.
There is an emptiness within.
Though the bottle is empty.
Life is still so untempting.
The sun sets from behind
My springless green sofa.
I wine in solitude.
The smoke outta my hookah.
My heart craves for you.
Come back how ever you may.
I swallow a handful.
Down on the sofa I lay.

{Ghost of Anita: Mother Fucker.}

ROCK AND ROLL

First of all, a big thanks to my freakshow of a friend (codenamed InhaleAmole; I am, as you might have guessed, The PurpleFish.) who introduced me to this wonderful-funderful world of Music. From the Blues to Heavy Metal, it has got me hooked. Bapu is worried, "What got into your empty mind that you are so into this bang bang head splitting musik?" Understandable. Having a hell of a child like me will make any parent jittery.
Now I am all set to pen an album 'SLEEPING ON THE SOFA' with 7 songs for The InhaleAmole-the drummer's rock band 'NOSTALGIA' which is currently experiencing a host of problems. The lead guitarist settled down in Michigan and has no plans of coming back to mystical India. The vocalist has got a sore throat due to not that much weed. We suggested he try heroin; no throat problems. And the bassist is in love and only prefers playing mushy yucky love songs these days. We cross our fingers and pray for an heavenly interlude that his girl dumps him pretty soon and he returns to normality. Anyway, we look all set for things will improve for this journey to the dark dark side of the moon has only just begun.
Life Rocks!!!

JUNE / JULY

There is so much about to happen in June / July that my mind refuses to live in the present. It races forward in anticipation and I already find myself rubbing my hands in glee. I wish I had a remote with which I could fast forward into the future. The events slated for June / July are:

• I will finally be able to lay my hands on my copy of the Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie which I will be receiving by shipment on June 07.
• Nicole Kidman's birthday on June 20th and she is expecting a baby in July.
• First draft of my novel 'The Bitch Still Lives...' which will be complete by June.
• My MBA hopes which rest until June 2nd week.
• My salary increment in July.
• My trip to Bangalore with friends. (am waiting to finish my book so that I can celebrate)

Max suggested that I should try spinning around as fast as I can to make time go faster. I did and puked on him. There rests his case and mine. I await patiently and pass time counting off the days...

THE PAINFUL TRUTH

This is what happens when you truthfully answer your girlfriend when she asks, "Am I looking FAT??"

OPINIONATED RAMBLINGS

A one and a two and a three.
A hundred people as may be.
Some fly in the air,
some swim in the rivers,
the others they simply see.

A plane and a boat and a tree.
A hundred and one opinions as may be.
To bring them together
is tough in this weather,
it isnt all that easy.

Peace, not Pieces
do we have to exist in.
Love and Liver,
may not it ever thin.

Fate and Fear,
Belief is the key.
Ego and Eco,
should be always set free.

Some honey, some candy, some ghee.
Look it as an opportunity.
We need to live together,
Hey ladies, and my brothers.
Then will we be dancing in felicity.

YOU & I

Marald & Dugaya,
Little Angelus Grumpus,
Sana Lakotia & Akshan Amin,
Nikita Hempton & Max Mathan,
Haroun Dil Nawaz & Ismetara,
Maria & Taraai too.
They all speak.
But what does the I seek,
amongst all the We.

The I is a mystery.
Revealed to nobody,
but You.

FIFTEEN SECONDS

Plunges a powerful fist.
Shatters my right cheek bones.
Followed by a quick upper jab.
I taste blood inside.
With steady determination,
I direct with force
one below his left eye.
Swells into a purple bruise.
Fifteen seconds is all it lasts.
Marks me a man for life.

ONE JOINT MORE

Man of substance.
Deadly aspirations.
Dirty game of life.
Hooked into like
saintly devotion.
How much, you ask.
Always, not that much.

MARCH TIDBITS

Debashish Bose (pyarse we call him Bose D.) is a one of a kind. Being a Manager in Materials is an open chance to earn some extra cash...well actually lots of it. And this guy has the balls to live an honest life. Says, "Sure money is gonna make you powerful...but to not accept what is not rightfully yours is what true power is about. I work hard and that sweet satisfaction gives me something which money can not buy."
Righto Bose D. You sure set a benchmark for everybody with your ideals.
--------------***----------------
The dinosaur came and chopped off my head. I felt no pain because I was dead by that time.
--------------***----------------
Weed + Pink Floyd is better than sex. Period.

QUOTE OF THE MONTH

Love isn't hopeless. Look, maybe I'm no expert on the subject, but there was one time I got it right.
-- Homer Simpson

TOMMOROW KA TODAY

Tommorow is a dream. (2)

Living tomorrow today
is a pitiful sorrow.
Sightseeing the future
lying, makes me hollow.

Tomorrow is a dream. (2)

I wish to sprint the farthest ever.
I wish to peak the highest ever.
I wish to seek the bestest ever.

Tomorrow will it happen.
For I will spruce up today.
To triumph tomorrow
I will start living today.

Tomorrow is a dream. (2)

You may have any say.
But I have my escape.
For tomorrow to be there,
today will I reshape.

Tomorrow is a dream.
Today will I enlive it.

Tomorrow is no dream.(2)

WORLD AT MY FEET

Been there, Done that.
Within the four walls
I sense the world
that so very enthrals .
The truth of my imagining
for me to derive
is enough, more than,
a feel of kicking alive.

I see and touch,
and taste and hear.
I feel and sense
and play and cheer.
What all I desire
I heartily croon
without ever
stepping out of my room.

I have it in me
and so do you.
To wander around,
spot out of the blue.
Imagine and think
and create and sing.
The world is your playhouse
and you are King.

THE BIPOLAR ME

I am in deep shock. I knew there was a problem but this... Having to take medication does not fit in my scheme of things but now I guess I will have to get a little lighter with Lithium!
Being identified as suffering from Bipolar Disorder is not easy. It means all my efforts, my techniques, my ideas are all quite zilch. It means I really do not possess any super powers nor am I superior to anybody except when it comes to my eccentric brain with which I easily lead the lot. It makes up for a valid reason for my Ex dumping me or my Boss sounding a queer warning everytime or my writings having contrasting patterns and people around, in general finding me weird. Does it mean the things I had done or perceived till now was just an adverse reaction of a chemical locha in the bheja? Am flummoxed spell-bound chup!!
My friends (even the non-existant ones) have the I-TOLD-YOU-SO look on their faces. I had been warned many times about the supposed crack in my topmost sector. My mood swings had got their goat (though fun at times). An alternating sequence of depressing and uplifting time chapters in life is just too hard to take. I join the Britney Spears Club now, but am I supposed to be happy with it?
Where do I go from here? or should I ask 'Where do I stand now?
Maria feels sad for me, but I do not know how to reciprocate her gestures cuz she doesn't exist anyway. Boy, I guess its gonna be extreme Low for the next few days until I can get back to my extreme Mania. Keep away!!

BAMBAI KI SARDI !

A cold wave has swept the city. Brrrr...Temperatures are dropping day by day. People everywhere are covered from head to toe. Designers are getting creative with new stylized jackets sweaters mufflers ponchos stoles...even monkey-caps. One lingerie designer has racy woolies displayed at his various stores. People walk with robotic movements with their hands in their own pockets for a change, and that’s nothing to do with style this time. Nobody on the streets with people so used to flaunt their bindass attitude with their top one two buttons undone…and females, with no display of flesh. Boy, am I dejected? Nobody wants to latkofy from the train doors, welcoming the warmth generated in the crowed indoors. People crowd around at roadsides taking shekoti from the lighted fire. Couples (not only girl+boy) do not feel the need to escape to Matheran Mahableshwar Khandala Lonavla for whatever gratification. People eat garma-garam bhajias and drink hot tea and this time have got a valid reason for the evening coupla' pegs. Electricity costs are at an all time low with people switching off fans ACs coolers. Someday it will snow and we will have ice golas made of them with flavours of kala-katta and raspberry and orange.

But the thin-blooded people of Bombay are sssshivering…and anything which is not to their liking or comfort is instantly disliked. They rant and crib and phone their relatives in far off places and tell them (with the chattering of teeth for added effect) about the bitter cold. ...while I sit in the loo and crap!
Bapu knocks at the door and shouts, "how much more time?!! Come out and go take a bath.”
Bath! I wonder, with water!! Am gonna be a dead man!!!

IN BAD TASTE

I know I got it all wrong.
I took my friend out for a drink and while he was not looking, spat into his beer.
He drank it all down to the last drop.
He did not deserve this with all what he did to annoy me.
I should have pissed in his mug instead.

TICK-TALK!!!

K: Tell me, why is the sky Green?
M: Because it was meant to be that way.
K: Who made it that way?
M: God.
K: He created this planet?!
M: Not just this but everything that ever is and everything that is not.
K: Ha! How do you know?
M: Because I am one with him and I know.
K: Is that possible? I mean He's God!!
M: God is belief faith truth in yourself. He is one and same, may it be a person or thing.
K: Then can I too know Him better?
M: Can you? Thats exactly what stops you from getting there!
K: You mean if I just believe, thats enough.
M: (smiles)
K: Coool!!!! But tell me, suppose, what if he had choosen some other color for the sky instead of green...like suppose Blue?
M: Then...we would have had a real problem! (winks)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

6:45pm
Anita: normal is boring.

7:00pm
Anita: Who is Mr. Normal?

MAD nad oad pad qad rad sad tad uad vad wad xad yad zad!!!

Max Mathan takes a pin and pops the red blue green yellow balloons he got yesterday, followed by his typical maniacal Ravanwallah laughter from low pitch to high pitch to higher. Imagines his boss' balls *pop*laughter*, ex-gals boobs *pop*laughter*, neighbour’s irritant son *pop*laughter*…
Then he gets up stretches gets ready and goes to work as everybody else.
There is a little bit of madness in each one of us and that is what makes life a little less stressful and a little more interesting.


Famous quote: ‘I am not mad. I just got a screw loose.’

Writer's Block!

I write.
The book has
run out of pages.
The pen has
gone dry of ink.
The thoughts vapourize,
an empty mind.
I dig my nose
neverending joy I find.

The Bitch Still Lives...

*The Greatest Thing You Shall Ever Learn Is Just To Love And To Be Loved In Return. -Moulin Rouge

________________________________________________________________________

Sana Lakotia. That’s her name.

I keep eyeing the blinking cursor on my screen as I light up another cigarette; the last of the pack. I cough and a lump of phlegm springs into my mouth from the bottom of my throat. I swallow it up right away. My throat feels parched and I would like to have a glass of water but I just do not feel like getting up from my cushy chair. I try to concentrate and think on other important things to waver my mind as I surround myself in smoke rings.
As in most stories, I have so found out, there always is a solid start from where the story progresses forward but all I can think of right now is the end. I for that matter, to make things a little less obscure, will have to apply a reverse psychology to churn out tales from my ticking brain-as it keeps ticking toward one final explosion…ticktockticktock…Such as would devastate the world along with me, but of course. Until then I got many things to think of and do. It is not as easy as it seems, doing the things one thinks along. I smoke type backspace smoke type backspace… It’s been too long. I have to take a stand somehow somewhere. I sit determined, focused, hoping, breathing some life into myself to bring some meaning to my absurd life. But my mind looms back and forth. I smoke type backspace…and finally!
Smoking cigarettes for the major part of my life has led to the erosion of most of my memories. But one still lives on. A memory that refuses to die or fade away. A memory that has now been sidelined to just a name and nothing more; but still a memory I loathe to love…or do I loathe to detest? Whatever!! Today I plan to write about that memory.

Sana Lakotia. That’s her name.

Six years have passed since I last saw her. That final moment is etched firmly into my mind, a memory so vivid and visceral it defeats the purpose of the passage of Time. It stands out against all memories like a prized possession in the almirah of my mind such that I am left with a lump in my throat each time I remember that day. Gulp!

It was unlike other days. A dull haze hung over all morning giving me the feeling something terrible was about to happen. A dream-like situation where people seem to talk a little too loudly and a little too slowly and nothing around makes sense; more like a nightmare where you do all the running you can possibly do and still get to nowhere. I wonder still how Time affects the scope of things but then now it does not matter because things have already taken place and killed the possibility of an alteration as one cant go into the past unless he is in possession of a time machine which to my knowledge doesn’t really exist unless you have had too much to dope or are then Mr. Steven Spielberg himself.
I lay on my cushy bed besides the wide window with a view, blowing smoke rings and trying to finger them in a backdrop of wild imagination. As the sun set eliciting its presence by disappearing from behind Roma’s apartment- yes, the hot babe who lives right across my room- Haroun came running with news that confirmed my belief that the world was going to end. Sana was leaving, forever, and there was little I could do about it.
Now it was my turn to do the running toward her and like situations in movies akin to this it dint just rain, hell moved apart and it poured. Water as wet as water of course splashed about everywhere, buildings wept, rivers flowed through the roads and the sea roared into the inland but I am not sure of that because I was nowhere near the coast. But that’s I guess how it would have happened if something like it were to happen.
Through this deterrent jetsam, I somehow managed to reach the railway platform huffing-puffing and wet to find a crowd of people. My clothes clung to my body but it wasn’t the cold that gave me the shivers. As I pondered my chances of finding Sana on a probability scale, the crowd all of a sudden moved apart and through the pathway at the end I saw her. I stood there, drenched, bare-footed and ticket-less (but that was the last thing on my mind then) as I watched Sana leave. Silence. All around, except for the beating of my heart and strange as it seemed then it was more like a ticking of a clock…ticktockticktock. Time slowed down and came to a standstill. Absolute silence. Sana kept walking away. I knew she would not stop, not look back but I was so foolishly filled with hope that I still believed in a miracle or some freak play of fate that would make her come back to me. Six years later I still do.
Each step she took further away from me was like a knife stab in my heart. I wanted to reach out to her and how I wish now I should have done just that; tried my luck for a yet another one last chance. But all I did was stood rooted on the spot as the rain blended with my tears. Sana disappeared in to the blot of Time and she took a piece of my heart away. It was only when the train boogied its way from the station did my mind registered back to reality and I started walking back. Marald used to say, “At times in life, you have to let go.” I left things at that just like that and I do not know now whether to repent or make merry.


My relationship with Sana was special; she so blended with my own soul, even the Grim Reaper would have a hard time to distinguish. After she left me my hatred for her eclipsed my love. It burned my soul and I quite lost the ability to love anyone again. Though I have picked up the shattered pieces of my heart I have never really begun to love her again or for that matter anybody else…nor do I hold myself capable of hating her. For me who has always been an extremist, Sana epitomizes the desire to love and to be loved in return in full capability though that nobility has now been lost in the dim passage of Time. She now stands on a transitory edge of emotions where love/hate are entirely incapable of giving any meaning to the bond I shared with her…or rather did share once.
A lot has happened over these six years but my heart still reaches out for her. My heart refuses to reason with the fact that there is and can never be any reconciliation. All it speaks is the language of Love and in Love there will always be another chance.
I walk that dreaded path again as I write on. I hold no fear. I have learnt that the world will still keep spinning around no matter what; a lesson so important for me that it has kept me alive. But today of all days I find myself in the same position that I was six years earlier and that is the reason why Sana is so important. No matter how much I deny she remains still, the fulcrum of my existence. Today of all days, I have decided to relive myself from my misery and to divulge the deepest darkest secrets from my mind that have somehow withstood the tyranny of Time.


My wife left this morning. My dear lovely caring wife, heavily pregnant with our first child probably decided to take a walk and has never come back since. I woke up to find an empty bed with a note carelessly strewn across that simply read…nothing. It was a blank note. Quite atypical of my wife to be so unsystematic in leaving a note or perhaps she wanted to tell me that there is actually nothing to tell me. I have given up thinking what it is supposed to mean. That was three hours before. Having raided the fridge, smoked a pack of cigarettes, watched some advertisements on TV, I have finally come to the realization of how big my problem is; forget about the big part, it has struck me I do have a problem. My wife has left me and I don’t know why. I am worried for my wife and I am hungry. I think I will go and have a snack and a glass of water. It will help calm my nerves and allow me to write without further distraction.
I am not lonely though. There is Maria for company. Maria came to live with us a year back when my wifey dearest took pity on her and brought her home against my wishes. No amount of howling persuading begging would convince my wife to show Maria the door. I found out how serious she was of her decision only when I told her to choose between Maria and me. Maria stayed and has been a pain in the you-know-what ever since. So pampered is Maria by my wife that the equations in my home have changed completely. She is such a bitch that she now thinks she possesses me and not the other way round. Like right now if you were to come over my place you would see me so heart broken typing furiously on my laptop (and smoking away!) while Maria spreads herself over the couch -yes the same couch on which I am made to sleep every time I displease my wife which is often -watching some inane dog show on Animal Planet with such great determination that she looks as if she has found her purpose in life. I will one day avenge myself.
Let me now cut the crap and get back to my purpose in life and complete this story by starting from where it mattered most so that I can get my perspectives right. The end- dreadful and pleasant at the same time- will spruce up at the appropriate moment. And I will have to hurry up my pace because there is too much to say and Time, the fucking bastard, keeps ticking on…ticktockticktock. My wife’s gone and I can do nothing about her. Sana could be dead by now but she would be missed. That’s it for now.

(to be continued)