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)

HO IS HO

I ask Akshan Amin about his ex-girl friend and he pulls his head back and laughs sarcastically santa-like, "HO HO HO HO..."

Point taken.

REDEMPTION POINT

Marald Grumpus never held a grudge against anyone until his wife Dugaya and aptly named daughter, Angelus died in an unfortunate car accident.
Since then Marald fears for other people's lives. He fears he will kill the first person he sets his sights on and the second and the third...Everyone of them. He sharpens his knife and practises each day. He feels this irrestible twitching urge inside to relieve himself of his misery.
For now, he has locked himself away from everybody with just an old bottle of rum for company completely cut off from the world. He lives life without hope, desire and a willingness to fight back which makes him count from the most desperatly frustrated creatures on our planet. He knows, yet feigns ignorance because it is an easier option to allay his fears and camoflage his dying spirit. This hatred will one day only engulf and destruct him as he tries to get even with the world.
He is a living ticking bomb...ticktockticktock...ticking toward a final devastating explosion.

May he find peace in death's soothing arms...

A BROKEN HEART

I gather broken
pieces of my heart.
Love's the adhesive,
glues what shattered apart.
I remember
memories I still cart.
From the time we met
till when you did depart.
Time we moved on
for a fresh new start.
I gather broken
pieces of my heart.

I KNOW NOT

I know not
what my heart wants.
I know not
what it seeks.
I know not
where to I am bound.

I feel no joy
on the good things,
nor sorrow when
bad things strike.
Though sometimes
it’s the other way round.

NO QUESTIONS ASKED!!

What it takes to be free,
Is all i ever wish to be.
To eat. To sleep.
To walk.To run.
To speak.To think.
To play.To drink.
To win.To lose.
To party.To treat.
To splurge.To save.
To order.To submit.
To beg.To please.
To smile.To weep.
To shout.To quiet.
To fuck.To caress.
To cajole.To strike.
To hit.To bleed.
To fall.To rise.
To cheat.To beat.
To dance.To fly.
To ignore.To heed.
To stay. To leave.
To dress. To strip.
To conserve.To waste.
To fight.To kill.
To yes. To no.
To love.To hate.
To live.To die.
Nobody to ask me why.

vendetta

Do not corrupt me.
Do not off load my brains.
For i will stab you
till blood from your body out-drains.

TILL THE END OF TIME

Time has stood still,
the day we parted.
I rue the day
it all started.
I end up in tears
as thoughts run across.
Nobody but me
I blame for the loss.
I know now you
can never be mine.
I shall love you still,
till the end of time.