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.

THE PAIN

There's something in your smile.
It makes my pain subside.
But then your eyes speak out.
You are never gonna be mine.
The pain again kicks in alive. 

INDIA VICTORIOUS

Loga bole, people said before the world cup began...

Australia...they r unbeatable. world champs.

Na re...it will be South Africa...they are fierce like lions in their own den.

Arey baba...think practically...England for sure...they have played more 20-20 then anyone else.

you nuts kya...Sri Lanka can emerge tops. Don't forget 1996.

What you talking man…new Zealand is filled with 20-20 professionals.

Don’t sideline west-Indies yara.

What about Pakistan?? (to which the poor lad is booed down)

Nobody thought we could even reach the finals. We have proved our might.

I walk with my head held high. I am an Indian and I am gonna rule the world.

FRIENDS

>I smile through sorrow.

>I pride on life.

>Everything that does matter.

>With friends each moment

>is the best. The next

>is simply better.

IN SEARCH OF LOVE

Love is what I seek
though my chances appear bleak.
I run from girl to girl,
on them I myself hurl.
I waste no time to flirt
with anyone in a skirt.
All has been tried and said.
I hav'nt even spared my maid.

Too bad...Shantabai
whacked one between my legs.

NO LOOKING BACK

Amey stares right through Rahul and me and before we can apprehend what is actually going on he leans towards us and says in a hushed up voice, "listen guys whatever you do don't look back...that guy behind you has got his whole thumb inside his nose." We do the obvious...we look back...
There have been times as well...when we were little kids and we used to be shit-scared of ghost rumors being spread all around. From the teen-mundi devi to the trinklets-wearing chan-chan-chan night walker, but none has been more dead-front than the safed-sari-wali-chudail who used to sneak up on you when you were walking alone in some soomsam rasta lost in your own thoughts and the moment you would turn your head back would just cut it off... Lesson learnt:No looking back!!
Also memories of times when you could officially blame your bad luck for getting your exam seat number on the first bench when in fact it was the toughest exam of the semester. A little luck would have helped a ton. Specially more when the investigator is the same guy whose classes you all bunked and he's on his toes to get back to you...you try and concentrate trying to think of some answers you would never dream of and then you try to take help from your colleague and are rapped on the head..."no looking back", he says in the sternest voice he can manage from his throat.
Those were the times...and now finally having secured a dream job with a great salary and an even wonderful boss and being amidst real friends who care and finding love as true as can I can only pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming...
Having lived a nightmarish life for four years of my life craving for the good things I can only take this success as a reward for my perseverance(read wickedness). Sometimes I do feel stupid for the stupid things I had all done earlier (stupid is as stupid does) and my sky-is-falling syndrome seems such a shame for me now. But right now I know, its as simple as that and am enlightened and it dint even take me to quit living. I am so happy I pat myself on the back and rub my hands in glee and gel my hair and look in the mirror and smile at myself and say truly now there is only one way I will go on and there is absolutely no looking back!!!

PHUCK DE...

people can get so selflessly selfish these days...(ghore kalyug my daadi says).
well for the fact that am blogging (yes am still alive and still the pest you think me for!!) after a period of over a month just shows how busy i have lately been. cant help it actually with too much peer pressure on me to reach my determined goal (wana pile on at least a 20kgs, so far managed 6). and then am like always so very prone to lethargy that being home after so long a period i have just let go...

so it happened that one fine day, yesterday actually i was sprawled on my favorite couch glued to the television lapping out even on the adverts i had missed all these years when suddenly by some freak bad luck (panvati says daadi) the remote slipped out of my hands and (in slow-mo) fell down on the floor one bounce two bounce three. nothing broken by the sight of it but still...stopped working. well! well! well!! yes it is a tragedy for me of epic proportions. for someone a bugger as bugged up like me who has completely lost the ability to fend for his ownself it does seem like the world has just come to an end (the bitch still lives though...hehe). repeated thumps on the floor dint do any good to get the remote started. neither did flipping it over, changing the batteries, trying to press the buttons harder work in any way.
and then came bapu...
i tried explaining how being a mechanical engineer i can only work screwing things up(pun unintended) but then like an old purana atkahua radio it began... "like donkey-vonkey you sit on your bum n watch tv. do some work. look at... look at... dont you have no shame-vame...blah blah blah"
bapu's rantings in the form of sound waves enter my left ear (since he's standing to my left) and with almost no obstruction (understandably so) leaves out of my right. it goes on for a few minutes and then silence like the night falls...
i like a dejected lover walk out to feel some fresh air and then i meet say who ?? my very old school-chum paresh. yep paresh...umm...forgot his last name but it hardly matters. paresh my gujju friend who has the habit of pronouncing the dreaded F-word as phuck (and hence the title) and who stole money from his father's payjamas and treated us to cane juice and dabelis and spicy roadsidewallah chats and whose mother had an affair with the neighbour and was caught cootchi-cooing at five gardens but hush-hush lets keep that a secret for now.
our meeting was not so much of excitement for it seemed more of a happy-sad moment...happy for the fact we were meeting after so long and sad because...well read on...

seated in the irani over a snack of bhurji-pav (like all true-blue gujrathis, paresh relishes eggs and chicken) paresh tells me how phucked-up his life has recently been... his girlfriend dumped him quite recently (methinks he must have called her shilpaben) and he lost his wallet while travelling in the train which contained his credit cards, atm, cash and four passes for the grand navratri dandiya night held at phatak maidan. tough luck!! more still his father has ordered him to forget his mba dreams and sit and run the family kapda-nu-dukan, which he says has seriously affected his career plans (though i doubt if he had any).
thus having completed his tragic tale in perfect timing with his burji-pav he looks sympathetically towards...himself at the mirror placed behind me and asks me how phucked-up my life is.

(daadi says people seek solace in each others misery. the greater the other persons misery the greater the relief for the feeling is always of....thank god it wasnt me!!)
i so very dumb-struck in my own material thoughts (nicole kidman is beautiful!!) mutter out "well yara life's hell, my tv remote down it fell, in sadness i dwell."
to which he gives the only possible reaction...phuck you!!! probably expecting more disastrous situations in my life against his so that he can heave a sigh of relief on the grounds of comparision. its good in one way that there wasnt any slow-mo (there's the word again) reaction-veaction as like his eyes gorging out and his face twisting into weird shapes before he cries out. instead just the word and off he storms as if that was an excuse for him to kaltify leaving me to fend for my ownself and a bill to pay. strange are the people around here and stranger still is the person sitting across me on the other side for i got no idea who he is(hehe)!!!!! still for me life bahu-saru che!!!!


i know its terrible-werrible but i am just so glad i somehow managed to post an article after such a long long time...i know you missed me and for that i will pardon you for whatever comments you gonna post on this one!!!!!!

TBSL....

Tears well up in her eyes
as she watches me leave.
Anger biles up a lump in my throat.

With a heavy heart
I walk away...
I hate her for loving me
more than I can cope.



from THE BITCH STILL LIVES...- My soon-to-be-completed novel!!

TESTIMONIAL

I read, re-read
What you gotta say.
My eyes zoom in
Till it blurs.
I scratch my head
And find me say,
Why din't I think
Of it earlier?

SOMEPLACE ELSE

he looks at her
while she looks someplace else.
she looks at him
while he looks someplace else.
their eyes meet for a second
and they look at each other.
both secretly wish
they were someplace else.

ADIOS

She bids farewell,
quite unceremoniously.
Watch her disappear
right till the bend.
She doesnt turn back,
something i dont expect.
Life is not a movie,
ave come to terms with it.

No tear drops on my cheeks.
No guilt in my heart.
Just the notion of
her existence will remain
till blood flows thru' veins.
Not even time can erase.

There's still words to be said,
feelings to be expressed.
But ave learnt in life,
its best sometimes to let go.