Blog in a Spot

Let's get Fatboy to run

2012-09-23T11:38:00.000-07:00

'Come on now, Fatboy! Let's get you to run. Raise your feet. Don't shuffle 'em. Raiiise 'em. Look there. Look, look, look. See the Sun? That's a golden donut. That's a golden donut coated with honey crust. Tell me, tell you don't want that donut and we'll stop running.

'Fatboy? Your mummy's a pretty rad lady. She's no stupid. She had you 'cause you were once your dad's rad sperm. You were a bloody superstar in her ovaries. That's quite a something. No? No? Come on. You can nod your head while running. But you CAN'T shuffle. Remember, Fatboy, all your life, you were meant to run. See? See? Good.

'Now, Fatboy, a while ago, they came up with this piece of trash called the Sound of Music. Heard of it? Yeah, you have? Watched it? Oh yes? Well, did you like it? No? Heh. Nasty liar. Anyway, they got it all wrong. I'll show you the real sound of music. Jog up, that's right. Now listen. Heave, heave, pant, pant, heave, heave, pant, pant, heave, heave, pant, pant. HAHA. That's right, boy.

'Fatboy... Fatboy? You've got to catch up now. No, no, no, no, nooooo. Don't stop. Don't! Get up. Geeeet up. GET UP, Fatboy. You don't want your obtuse coach to beat you, right? You don't want him to say stuff about you, your family, your generation? In fact, you don't want to be beaten by yourself, huh? How'd that feel, I wonder. How'd it feel to be a-so delusional about one's own ability? How does it - yes, yes. That's it. THAT'S IT! YOU GO, BOY! Now don't stop. Keep running. That' it. HAHAHA. Keep running ... don't stop ... DON'T STOP.'

Because, no matter what, it's so important to keep running.

Comeback?

2012-08-23T06:18:00.000-07:00

I’m such an opportunist.

I haven’t blogged since a year and three months now. Agreed, I have blogged on my Tumblr. But those have been cool website links, two liners, photos & videos, some advertising copy I’ve written; in essence, all the articles that don’t take too much time to put up. An easy way to pacify the lethargic mind.

Since the last post on this blog, your writer has suffered (mindless) emotional turmoil, an exaggerated bout of restlessness, I-have-to-figure-myself-out-ness and have lost faith in writing short fiction.

I named this blog just over two years ago with no particular reasoning. Miraculously, today I cannot find a better name for the portal that is curated by a sluggish, confused writer than Blog in a Spot.

I’ll round off by justifying the opening line. During the aforementioned year-long hiatus, I reveled with companions, forgetting the few activities that brought me joy during my times in solitude. Now that I’m back to square one, I am returning to those very few activities that I so comfortably ignored. Blogging is one of them.

I believe this is a comeback.

And to you, dear reader, I want to say stay tuned!

Abhigmistake

The inconsequential ding

2011-04-18T10:33:00.000-07:00

Hey

Wts up?

About time, Abhijeet thought. He was growing weary of the unfamiliar portal. He was the kind who preferred phone calls to mind numbing Internet chatter. But he had long since realised this was the first step to getting to know her and thus had resorted to it. And hence, he had decided to dedicate an entire evening to chat with her.

He cracked his knuckles while he waited for her response. He took a long swig from the half consumed cola bottle and looked to his left. Aai was busy washing the lunch boxes for the next day. He frowned at the sight and deciphered what it meant - the maid had decided to do a bunk again.

The doorbell rang, but the door wasn't locked. Baba walked in, shutting and bolting the door behind him as he entered. He carefully replaced his chappals on the shoe rack. A pair of sneakers strewn on the floor haphazardly caught his eye. He mumbled to himself as he picked them up gingerly and stuffed them in the rack.

Abhijeet watched Baba's antics all along. He loved Baba for simple man he was. He was nearly fifteen years older than Aai, but that hadn't prevented him from treating her like a queen. Abhijeet was proud testimony of their unconditional love. Baba ruffled Abhijeet's hair when he passed him, saying softly to himself: Sirjee is studying. We'll disturb him later.

Abhijeet felt a pang of guilt. Nevertheless, he maximised the chat screen. His heart fell. Still no reply.

Sanya?

u der?

Now Baba had changed to his baniyan-lungi and reached the kitchen. Abhijeet silently watched as he wrestled the dish wash brush out of Aai's hand.

'Nai Shubha! Main karoonga!' he said forcefully. Aai knew better than to argue when her husband raised his voice. She smiled gratefully and stood by the kitchen door, watching him work.

Abhijeet was virtually beaming now. He wondered why he hadn't noticed these diminutive gestures of affection before.

Aai began to complain about how the maid hadn't turned up for the third time in the week. Ungrateful minx, she called her. Baba chuckled. Aai, motivated by Baba, cursed her more. Aai's intense dislike for the maid seemed to amuse Baba more and more and his laughter grew louder. Abhijeet was thoroughly enjoying himself now.

And then Baba choked. And tears filled his eyes. The laughter turned into uncontrollable coughing. Aai rushed to where Baba stood and stroked his back. Abhijeet flew off his chair, looking worried.

But the cough was gone as soon as it had come. Baba panted and heaved, gripping Aai's arm firmly. He looked up to see a worried Abhijeet standing rooted to his spot in the hall. He lips curled into a faint smile.

'Nalayak!' he said. 'Thought I'd die laughing at your Aai's poor joke?'

Aai playfully hit Baba, her flushed face lit with relief. Abhijeet joined his father in the laughter.

Ding!

Abhijeet looked down at the monitor to see his chat window flashing.

Hiee Abhi!!!

Wt u upto?

Sanya had finally replied. Abhijeet stared hard at the monitor. And he looked back into the kitchen. Now Aai and Baba were hunched together, washing the boxes.

Earlier that evening, he'd decided to dedicate the evening to Sanya. Someone whom he merely shared with a 'Hi-Bye' relationship. Ironically, here were two people who had dedicated their lives to him and not once had it crossed his mind that he must act, feel or give mutually in return the very same.

He smiled as he typed out a hasty goodbye to Sanya and hardly felt guilty. After all, it was an inconsequential ding.

--x--

Specially dedicated to Anna and Amma, the superheroes in my life :)

Purpose

2011-02-26T11:33:00.000-08:00

I was playing this track, Ajnabi from the Kunal Khemu starrer Superstar on my PC.

...

Replay.

...

Again!

...

And again.

...

Trust me, every time I listen to this song, I question the purpose of my existence. Am I worthy of the 10x12 ft room (Pune), 40x60 ft house (Bangalore) I occupy? Do I deserve a meaty four grand every month as pocket money? Am I worthy of adding another question questioning purpose or should I get to the point?

The answer is on my lips, or in this case, my fingertips.

[CLICHÉ ALERT]

We're all here to do justice to the purpose of our existence. Yes. It's true. That's why we're here.

The first ancestor (We'll call him Mr. K) of my breed was born to add the initial K to my name (Abhinandan K.S). His kids were born to add Mr. K's name as their father's name in their names. More generations were generated just to retain the K as an initial. Later, my great-great-great grandmothers were born to produce a string of kids. And my great-great-grandmothers and great-grandmothers joined in to contribute soon after.

But what was common among these venerable ladies and gentlemen? Purpose. Be it making my identity so outrageously South Indian or ensuring that people around me always remain baffled about why K stands for what it stands for, these people nailed it!

That's that. Now, here's a bit on about my purpose of living. We're nearing the end of the February and I've not:
1. blogged even once this year.
2. been writing stories like I used to.
3. been reading comics,
4. been following cricket.
5. visited Bangalore.
6. laughed so much I cried.

It's then I realize the purpose of this blog. If you scroll up to the top of this page and see, etched right under the title, 'Blog in a Spot' is 'Joie de vi-vre. n. Hearty or carefree enjoyment of life.'

[ABRUPT ENDING ALERT!]

This time I nailed it. That's the purpose of my life :)

What's not to 'Like'?

2010-12-31T04:16:00.000-08:00

Having spent more than three years on Facebook, I can safely say I'm networking veteran now. I've watched as Facebook has grown from 'that poke-wala site' to the revelation that spelled doom for Orkut.

Everyday you 'Like' tonnes of stuff your friends post. So much so, that the word 'Like' has now been reduced to a mere button. Back when I was in high school, 'I like you' was a potent little proposal; not as dangerous as an 'I love you' but far more effective than an 'I think I have a crush on you'. And today, well, the less spoken the better.

So on the last day of the decade, I will give you some invaluable advice. I will tell you what NOT to 'Like' on Facebook. Here's the list.

Gangadhar Raman posted this 5 minutes ago | Gangadhar Raman likes this.

No. You may love your writing. But please, don't 'Like' your own posts. The moment you do, the world will know you're inspired by Kamal R Khan.

Gangadhar Raman went from 'in a relationship' to 'single'.

You may feel a sense of euphoria after breaking our dear Gangadhar Raman up. But that doesn't mean you gloat in public. You're no Saif and our Gangadhar is no Shahid.

Gangadhar Raman > Saif Ali Khan: 'You traitor. You left your polka-dots underwear in my handbag!'

Go ahead and snigger. But don't 'Like' this one. You'll land in trouble the next time you meet Saif.

Girly A > Girly B: 'I miss you <3 Love you <3 Muuahh! xoxo'

Did she say she misses YOU? Then why're you 'Liking' it you dolt? Remember, this post can be liked only by 'Girly B'.

Gangadhar Raman | 'borreedddd!'

Trust me, you're boredom exceeds Gangadhar Raman's if you 'Like' this one.

Any page that goes like 'If U LuV mE dEn Y dnt U ShOw Ur LOve....hOw D hEll wILL I Noe DAMIt!!!!!' or 'lyf widout u is nt complete how to tell u dis?' or 'Justin Beiber'

Well you can go ahead and 'Like' these. Just don't come crying and tell me people suddenly started ignoring you.

Gangadhar Raman | 'Lost my beloved great aunt today :(( RIP! i guess idlis are nt gud 4 health'

Now you may agree with Gangadhar's words of wisdom towards the end of his status message. But remember! His Great Aunt died. So, a 'Saif likes this.' below someone's death announcement is not cool.

I hope you're wiser now. If you already were, you're a networking veteran yourself. If not, I'm sure this helped. Thanks for reading.

Tata :)

P.S. No offence to any Gangadhar Raman, living or fictional, whatsoever.

Photoshop Blunders!

2010-12-22T00:09:00.000-08:00

I don't pride myself to be a software person. But over the past three days, I've been indulging and over-indulging in Photoshop. Yes. I hate that software. But I had a good set of laughs coming up with lewd posters of my classmates (and in one case, myself). Here, have a look.

This is my personal favorite. I spent about two hours on this. Ignore the copy (at your own risk).

This was my first ever design.
Pretty basic, yes. But I got to know what layers thanks to this.

Here's to my beloved roommate :)

It took me nearly half an our to crop Avani into a proper egg :P

I'd promised Goofy a poster. So here :)

I think Photoshop will develop into an addiction. If it does, then thanks to all the people who posed innocently, unaware that they would go on to be scrutinized digitally later on.

Rushes

2010-12-10T10:18:00.000-08:00

I've just concluded ... 'rushes' is my favourite word in the English dictionary. I've strewn all my clothes on Vedansh's cot. Sony Ericsson W705 doesn't have a 3.5 mm earphone jack. While composing a new post you see two tabs: 'Edit HTML' and 'Compose'. The red neon Symbiosis light goes off at 2300 hours everyday. I say I'm left handed. But I'm right handed. But I bowl with my left hand. I've not figured myself out. Advertising is a challenge. Does a Kurta go well with an ad-man? It looks sexy on a journo! Never saw Mohan Sir wear a Kurta though. Biswadeep Ghosh's blog on the TOI website is called 'All things bright!'. I can't read a blog for nuts. You said nuts? My laptop will surely damage my nuts! World AIDS day is a joke. Condoms anybody? Oops! Sharmila Tagore will censor this. Contact Saif? SRK gets Akon to sing for him. What's with rappers and the Hindi film industry? Go away. 'You're so rude, dude!' - Nitasha Seth on yours truly. She's gotten herself an internship in Florida. She can't have all the internships you know! Amma comes to view first thing when I close my eyes. When I open them, I see Blogger has underlined more than three-fourths of this paragraph with red. I know my English, thank you. Once I felt like tweeting - #nowplaying 'Shakalaka boom boom' from 'Shakalaka Boom Boom' by #HimeshReshammiya but I contained myself fearing hegemony. Kolkata is the only metro I haven't visited in India. My verbal filler is usually 'Erm'. Shall I Wiki the actual definition of 'hegemony'? Zuckerberg invented Facebook. Aamir in 3 Idiots was Phunsukh. Er, am I off the hook? Mind is the seat of the faculty of reason. This is apparently a Shakespeare quote. Vatsala thinks she's smart for pointing this out. How far can my thoughts go? I miss Timon and Pumba, may you both rest in peace. Here's a little trivia: Pumba was actually Pumbus Guinea Pig. Timon was Timonalisa Xena Pumbus. I loved them. I still love them. Ouch! I just hurt my gum while biting my nails. Don't ask how. I'll just go through what I've written now. Line one. Line two ... half way stage ... done reading. Wow ... loads of thoughts ... I've just concluded 'rushes' is my favourite word in the English dictionary.

Notes, quotes and oats: Your only source for farce!

2010-11-19T12:53:00.001-08:00

So I'm about to embark on a career in media and my wise mother told me I've to develop a liking for writing! Now being billed for the media, I thought she was right, so I gave her a Rajdeep Sardesaish smile, sat smartly on a chair, opened my mouth in spectacular fashion (like I'm all set for a huge speech) and said :
"Okay!"

But jokes apart, I am going to be your friendly neighbourhood Indian journalist. I will make a huge noise about politicos and their antics so much so that audience will be left to wonder if the show is an Ekta Kapoor production! I will swear on national television that I can play better cricket than our cricketers and flash my potbelly! I will proclaim Steve Jobs as God everytime he adds an 'i' to common household articles but ridicule him everytime his gadget costs more than my salary! My orders are to bring in enough TRPs so we surge ahead of the Swayamwar series (And if I can't acheive that, I am to appear on Swayamwar!)

Thus, to gain some match practice I bring you today's news!

> Sonia Gandhi belly dances to Waka Waka, says Shakira is her long lost sister!

> Manmohan Singh was unavailable for comment because he was too busy staring :-O

> In other news, Sehwag has sprouted some hair on his head! We suspect Dhoni's haircut had something to do with it!

> Every FIFA World Cup has a theme, looking at the number of on field blunders this year we feel they're paying a tribute to the Indian Judiciary!

> Gaining FRP (Facebook Rating Points) is not as easy as Sid Mallya inheriting his father's empire! So tag everyone you know and help me get a job!

Before I sign off, here's a message from our ambassador Akshay Kumar:

Heh heh heh! He twinkles :P

Of Camels and Boobjobs

2010-11-17T11:59:00.000-08:00

I beg of you to leave if you expected some sleaze when you saw the title. There is a reason this is not an 'Adults Only' space.

Now that my disclaimer is done, I intend to begin.

In a time very dissimilar to today lived I. (See, don't confuse I to be yours truly. I is the character created by yours truly that resembles yours truly). So, where was I?

Right, I bathed in sorrow and despair for a while. He looed for hours and slept to forget his troubles. He watched D-Grade Kannada movies and championed noble causes such as playing cricket with kids half his height and quarter his age. And then, I joined the National Academy for Learning.

Like a fish out of water, I disintegrated in his first year in NAFL. Funnily though, the absolute rate of decay of I's cerebral entities seemed slowed, almost delayed. I had come to terms with the existence of another being not unlike himself who relied more on impulse rather than mechanics to live his life.

I and him took to each other like hydrophobic tails cling on to the micelle center. They laughed, chatted, discussed, argued, fought, bunked Edurite, bunked T.I.M.E, criticized, analyzed, summarized and immortalized friendship. Legend has it that him trusted I so much, he gave him his Facebook password. And what did I do? www.facebook.com/boobjobme!

That's that about him. Next comes Camel. I knew Camel before NAFL, but instead of strengthening their relationship here they drifted apart. I regrets that even today. But I had his moments with Camel. I fondly remembers Camel spilling an entire bottle of Chocolate Milk on him, Camel and I loved their fights in the Basketball Court. I and Camel even spoke over the phone now and then. Today Camel turns eighteen. I wonders how Camel made it but is nevertheless very happy for her. Camel is working tirelessly to become a doctor. I has already predicted mysterious deaths for Camel's to-be-victims.

Plenty more characters made memorable cameos during those twenty odd months at NAFL. Yours truly is tired of assigning codenames to each and everyone of them. So I suppose they merely merit mentions: Dooks, Bha, Shaurya, Vaman, Shubi, Sankey, Shash, Cock, Gowda, Nish, Akshu, Pari, Shivanth, Arvind, Ramitha (I's lifelong friend), and others. With y'all, life was easy.

I for once, had dived into oblivion.
I stood in the center of the fifty feet road of 3rd Main Road, 3rd Block, 3rd Stage, Basweshwarnagar unawares as this golden period passed him as quickly as the Sun sets in Time Lapse Photography. And the two years were up.

I knows a massive reunion with everybody wanting to see everybody else is hypothetical. But the mere thought makes him feel good. It fills up the void left by his departure to Symbiland. I today is a happy, content man. He owes it to the annoying Camel and those endless pranks he executed with the reliable Mr B''bjob!

Specially dedicated to

Nickhil

and

Tejaswini

(yes you are Camel)

My name? Rajni - Rajnikanth I SAY!

2010-10-31T11:27:00.001-07:00

I'd written this a while back. It was on Facebook, but since I've moved base here, I thought I should export it. It's pretty relevant, now that Ranjnimania seems to have caught us!

Interviewer: Rajni Saar! It's a pleasure! Today everybody in the studios conducted a pooja and drank kheer for your good health!

Rajni: Oh! Very good! Thank you! I too pray for everybody in the studios and for all the viewers watching nationwide (Flashes a smile, salutes).

*Whistles, applause from the crowd*

Interviewer: Saar, your movie is releasing! Your thoughts on that?

Rajni: Yes. It's that time again! When all my fans, that is, my Gods come to give me their blessings (Raises his hands and acknowledges the heavens). I have always wanted to work for the people! That is why, even at sixty, I never tire doing movies!

Intervewer: And you are looking better than ever Saar! But do tell us why the audience, I mean your Gods, should watch this movie!

Rajni: It has a strong script! There are eight song sequences and four fight sequences, and above all there are the dialogs! I think people should watch the movie for the dialogs! They are as hard hitting as ever!

Interviewer: Lastly Saar, can you please enact one dialog from the film?

Rajni: My name? Rajni - Rajnikanth I SAY!

Applause breaks out from everywhere! The village literally erupts! The only man on stage takes a bow and salutes, Rajni style.

A lungi clad man walks up to the stage with a garland in his hand! He hugs the other man and takes the mike from him and bellows in Tamil!

"Dear brothers and sisters, our Gatekeeper Mani has done a wonderful job! He saw this interview on TV in Chennai two days back, took a bus to the village, and happily accepted our offer to enact it! He not only remembers our beloved Rajni Saar's words but also that of the interviewer's! As a token of appreciation we present him this garland on behalf of the entire village! Here son, wear it!"

Gatekeeper Mani wears the garland proudly and takes another bow. The audience start applauding again! Wait, they're shouting something! What was that?

"Long live Mani! Long live Rajni!"

Mani smiles, looks at the crowd and thinks to himself:
"My name is Mani! Gatekeeper Mani!"

And he does it in his own characteristic style :)

Clutter

2010-10-12T13:23:00.000-07:00

Poetry is art. An art I've found to be too deep for me. But tonight, at 0044 hours on a Wednesday morning, some happenings have prompted me to resort to it. So, forgive me if it lacks structure and order and all other tosh one must keep in mind while conceiving a poem. Read.

The lens case perched atop unwashed denims,

flaunts its solution from within

the R, white and opaque while L is absconding

the eyes do a pan,

a battered cap steals fancy

A six year association,

revived in a jiffy!

Although the washing powder next to it,

has wiped clean most memories,

the recent ones remain

above the transcript

of the last five transactions.

A journey through my table

is an ordeal barely complete,

but revival and recall

promise retreat!

Badly taped currency,

tangled ear-phones

Kotler, Kelly, Koshy and Jha's Marketing

Pune Times, Wednesday, October 6, 2010

An unkept coat

And a tired mind

I fall into my chair

A tape rewinds as the eyes close

I feel her call,

She nibbles on my toes

She's sick,

Allergic,

her hair's lost,

she's lost her weight

diagnosed with disease

Failing everyday ...

And they snap open!

the case, the cap, the coat and Kotler

we're back again

at our present haven

But the view is new

and all but different

A box, A BOX!

A glowing red +

comes first to my aid

obviously signalling hope!

I forget the disease,

I relive the tiny nibble

I sigh a little,

and hazard a midnight giggle

For it's merely

a journey through my table,

an ordeal barely complete,

but revival and recall

promises retreat!

To Timon,

my beautiful child!

Issued in public interest

2010-09-21T18:46:00.000-07:00

Are you unhappy, frustrated and desperate?
Are you sleep deprived, starved and overworked?
Are you from SIMC?
Then tho you're gone!
But, this might come in handy before you go to the grave:

So, ease out a little bit.
Peace out a little bit.
Now and then log off and find yourself, bit by bit!

Case Study - Decoding criticism

2010-08-24T06:00:00.000-07:00

It's been a week since I posted my last and I've been receiving roller-coaster (read negative) comments for my work. All taken in the right spirit of course (Yah right!). So while I was left pondering whether I should ever sit to write again or just give up the hobby all together, something struck me. The very foundation for the above debate to crop up in my head was this complex beautifully defined word : criticism.

Criticism is the judgement of the merits and faults of the work or actions of one individual by another (the critic). To criticise does not necessarily imply to find fault, but the word is often taken to mean the simple expression of prejudice or disapproval - Wikipedia

How right Wiki! I knew you were smart (:P)

Now, if you're smart you'll observe that I've highlighted all the words that are synonyms for error, mistake, bias, preconception, predisposition, condemnation, displeasure and censure to name a few. I'll tell you why that was done:

My dear friend Akida Wahi had this to say when I asked her to deconstruct my post for me.

'... was bad ... childish ... lost ... but ... thu ...'

See the problem? I saw merely the negatives, stormed off a couple of times, argued back a few million times, made faces, made crude jokes, made cruder jokes and didn't get the underlying point.

I didn't take criticism constructively (God! I hate to admit that!).

So, in today's case study we shall learn how to decode criticism. We shall go through the different frames our mind portrays when criticism is cast through it's walls. Our dear friend Akida Wahi (Yes, again!) was kind enough to plant a comment the last time she was around to check our blog out, thus we'll use it as our example for our study.

So here's how the comment goes :

could have been better...none the less a good read...a lil clique....u r capable of better..

And here's how our mind functions:

could have been better... - This is pathetic!

none the less a good read... - She's just trying to say something sweet!

a lil clique.... - Clique? Haha, clique.

u r capable of better.. - She's just trying to say something sweet again!

FINAL INTERPRETATION : 2/10 (1 for the time taken to read the piece + 1 for well .. let's just hope he doesn't kill himself)

Kids, above is a very, very common way of looking at criticism. AVOID!

And here's how our mind should actually function:

could have been better... - I knew I could have done better. This is testimony for that!

none the less a good read... - Oh good! At least I could hold the reader's attention!

a lil clique.... - I thought so. I should have perhaps written about this other idea I thought of. It's cliche by the way!

u r capable of better.. - You said it. I SHOULD have done better.

FINAL INTERPRETATION: Final interpretation? Well, you just read this piece. You give me one!

Independence eh?

2010-08-17T10:51:00.000-07:00

Tweets, status updates and text messages all start to roll in. News channels air Lata Mangeshkar's Jana Gana Mana every thirty minutes (Smart ploy that! They're assured of viewership for the fifty-two seconds they manage to incite their audience), Flags seem to fly everywhere and our PM sizes up Chandni Chowk before he triggers off nationwide celebrations.

LONDON LONDON STATUE!

<PAUSE>

We'll let our PM unfreeze though.

We'll allow him to admire Chandni Chowk's dingy streets, the Jama Masjid and the Gurudwara Sisganj.

Beautiful, isn't it?

<He Sighs> Thank you, Mr. PM!

Now we'll give him an ordeal to accomplish. An ordeal unrivaled in difficulty by none other. We'll humbly request him to introspect. Introspect about the marvel that is India, the greatest democracy the world has witnessed.

India, a country that never invaded any other. A country known to have established the first university. A country known to have invented the Ayurveda, the oldest system of medicine known to man. The very same nation that won praise from Albert Einstein for being the country that thought us to count!

Wonderful, isn't it?

It's time to raise the stakes a little higher. Let us now humbly request our PM to introspect on behalf of a billion Indians. Slightly tricky? Ah well ..

We still suffers from deaths due to contaminated water. We are proudly a poacher's paradise. We know 'preparations' for the Commonwealth Games have become synonymous with 'jokes', we cannot protect people in a world heritage railway terminus but let the man behind it stay unscathed for nearly two years, we can boast of seeing sky scrapers here, there and everywhere but cannot provide shelter for those rough hands that build them. We can run away with a respectable GDP but exposed lies our poverty levels like chickenpox boils on a boy's forehead!

We can ... we can't!

Now let us revert our attention back to the bushy face of our revered PM. He seems unmoved on that podium. As he stares up at the Tricolour, he knows all these problems exist, but, smart as he is, he knows the solution as well!

It's simple.

Merely stop gaping at the PM. These are your woes too. This is yours and my country too. Request the PM (humbly) to climb down those red steps of the Lal Qi'lah and ascend them yourself. See yourself as the man introspecting. See yourself making the changes. See for yourself a better sight.

<The PM hoists the flag and proceeds for his annual report>

The place where the PM stood merely moments ago is vacant.

Any takers?