Finding Thyself

EYES

2009-11-14T10:31:00.000-08:00

Her eyes never left me,
even for a while,
even though i had mine
on the worldly delights.

Her eyes followed me,
where ever i did go,
in form of a call or a prayer,
i never heeded.

Her eyes were awake,
day and night,
so i could rest mine
without fear.

Her eyes closed on me,
forever, one fine day,
while i had mine elsewhere.

Her eyes, i do miss them now.

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Space

2009-11-03T07:35:00.000-08:00

Stranded in an intergalactic causeway,
reclined on a signpost muddled by cosmic dust.

Amused by myriad stars that illuminate a perplexed gaze,
anchored to a organic dimension that propels inertia.

Gagged by the alien echoes that vibrate stillness,
limited by an expansive horizon that imparts ignorance.

Wrecked by hyperspeed that derails thoughts,
ostracized by a trajectory pattern that navigates adherence.

Fragmented by the destruction of mother ship,
the orphaned space wanderer, awaited.

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MINE

2009-10-29T13:35:00.000-07:00

i shared her breath as one,
till i could find mine.

i sucked her energy,
so i could nurture mine.

i was in her arms,
till i could flex mine.

I didn't listen when she uttered,
a name that was mine

i never heard her prayers,
as i made noise of mine.

I didn't feel her pain when i was
lost in a world of mine.

I didn't see her sacrifice,
as i was busy with a life of mine,

i couldn't repay her when
the time was mine.

i thought she would stay forever
only to realize later,
she was never mine
and nothing is mine.

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BEING

2009-10-29T13:24:00.000-07:00

Naked in the hallway of thousand door frames
'the being' waited for the thought to enter.

Through the arch way the being traveled
into a cell which was a nucleus.
Weaving a membrane to conceal the core
the being formed a chromosome.

X and Y were plotted, to trace back
the origin in case the thought abandoned.

Building the blocks, the mutated being
took an alien form of pure fiber.

Crawling out of hibernation, the besieged being
progressed in a linear fashion.
On the threshold of a new doorway
transforming becoming the change.

In and out of every frame, until it became humane.
Having camouflaged its inherent gene,
the human being looks into the mirror
which does not reveal the real picture.

Accumulated layers of evolution,
aging and growing with every travel
the being bewildered, pondered.

Regressing the progress, the being
traveled in a cyclic fashion,
cracking the value of X&Y.

Without compasses or guiding force,
all alone, ceasing the duality,
singular in entity, creeping back,
in essence, progressing ahead
deciphering the tracks forgotten
navigating to a conclusion
stepping back and forth
through the unlocked doors
shedding, withering and shredding
every thought of awareness

deep into the abyss of statelessness
the stale being wandered, solving X&Y.
And much deeper to the lost base
before anything ever occurred.

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PATTERN PICKER

2009-10-28T13:04:00.000-07:00

Grazing through the time ripple,
of events and incidents gone by.

Identifying a connection
for choices seem to be made in isolation
whose repercussions,
echoes in progression.

Occurrences like the tangram pieces,
random in nature,
piecing them together,
to structure a picture,
beyond human comprehension.

Decisions sewn, not taken
by thread of accumulation,
not woven in this piece of creation
but many before
whose patterns are forgotten.

The Pattern Picker gazes
into the clues of weaves
that has been churned
since measure immemorial.

Chalking out a direction,
mapping a course of action,
for he is lost in the pattern.

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CARNIVORE

2009-10-23T10:35:00.000-07:00

A carnivore dwells in me,
whose hide can't be seen,
with hungry talons,
patient for innocent flesh.

A connoisseur's ego
sniffing for a scent,
of a prey, ripe in every sense,
the perennial claws itch,
to quench an enigmatic desire.

Circling the perimeter,
viewing the dynamics,
plotting, surrounding,
holding, sustaining
the hunt,
setting the trap,

in an instant flash,
plunging forward to kill,
after a day long chase
and a night long wait,
of which i lost count,
i find myself in the trap
i didn't spring!

Ambushed.
i am the hunted,
i am the prey,
i am not the one
top in the hierarchy,
of the life chain!

(e-snap : outskirts of Madurai Meenakshi Temple, 12/2007)

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MENDICANT'S RANT

2009-10-21T12:45:00.000-07:00

I stood in the threshold of time, not this,
like a MENDICANT, seeing faces go by
a morphed reality, a diluted perspective
looking numb, not so dumb, yet clueless
as to where to set foot next.

William staged every known word,
Gautam besieged the world sans bloodshed,
Leo drew the code that shaped us,
Issac gave birth to the laws we go by,
Ludwig didn't need the senses to play his notes,
Albert took science beyond mortal inspiration,
Helen tore down the very thought of limitations,
Neil stamped the heavenly bodies with his print,
Mohan humbled the instinct of greed,
Agnes testified for love that was unconditional,
And many other who became history
for the future to be seen.

Here i stand, one among numerous,
not a star, not a sun,
nor a meteor or even an asteroid,
just a tiny speck of space dust,
not knowing my time in the universe,
or where my co-ordinates lay,
so i can label them mine,
exhausting my composition,
gaseous inheritance
yet i am weighed down,
in pursuit of a collider, to set a bang,
floating, drifting, the omnipresent darkness
consuming me.

Stranger in the oceans of galaxies,
like a thief looking for a role to steal.

Maybe a peddler to sell a ware,
maybe a gleeman to treat a trick or tale,
maybe a trader looking for a bargain,
maybe a warrior proud of his clan,
maybe a singer who could shy every bird,
maybe a medicine man who can't cure himself,
maybe a seer who carries the baggage of focus,
maybe a fortune-teller looking for that elusive treasure,
maybe a vagabond who is thirsty for new lands,
maybe a orator who opens hearts like a surgeon's hand,
maybe a poet who personifies illusive emotions,
maybe a story-teller lost in one of his characters,
maybe a artist with the devil's hand of creation,
maybe a farmer who plunders the virgin earth,
maybe a banker who juggles stones and metals,
maybe a writer who scripts his own end,
maybe a cleaner who ends up with all the dirt,
maybe a rider who knows when to take the turn,
maybe a philosopher who harbours thoughts of lust,
maybe a butcher who isn't interested in blood,
maybe a astronomer blinded by the shiny stars,
maybe a seeker who knows what he is looking for,
maybe a mechanic who tinkers the wheel of time,
maybe a soldier whose real foe is death,
maybe a king who rules what is not his,
maybe a alchemist who is lost in luster,
maybe a builder who can't find his own space,
maybe a lover who can't remember his virgin kiss,
maybe a nomad navigating to settle everywhere,
maybe a sailor who charts a course with no rudder,
maybe a gypsy who isn't fed up of tattered colours,
maybe a creator who can't stop becoming a voyeur,
maybe myself, a empty me,
a mendicant rattling a gimcrack rant

i stare as faces go by,
like pages that turn when time flies by,
into those raven black eyes,
lit by a golden ball of fire.

i the dot
that is clustered together
with many others
form the trail of a star
whose blaze tries to
offset the omnipresent darkness.

(e-snap : Meenakshi Bhavan, Thiruthangal Highway, 12/2007)

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WARMONGER

2009-10-20T07:07:00.000-07:00

The sheen of his armour was blemished
with blots of crimson, magenta and ruby red.
He rode with the void to cross
the warm steel with a frozen resolve.

He was
one with the battle cry that shivered a thousand nerves
one with the foe's eye, tracing every bodily stir
one with the swift steps like the formless wind
one with the aroma of chopped beasts that became a scavenger's feast
one with the rhythm of the blade, that swayed to an unheard melody
one with the whirlpool of time, sucked by its force full spell
one with the warmth not from the sun blaze but from the gushed blood
one with the silence unseen that overshadowed the chaos that reigned
one with the icy chill emotion that held no remorse
one with the fraction second, to escape for a life, gone by a split second
one with the hunger for flesh like the unappeased bodily lust
one with the thought of survival that blinded the cause of sides taken
one with the aching flame that charred his hide from a duel long forgotten
one with the iron grip on the tender scalped leather that surrounded the aged hilt
one with the sense of despair as sweat drenched him everywhere
one with the drunken intellect with no reason to kill
one with the butcher's heart that mechanically ripped anyone apart
one with the baggage that he bore from many a heartless acts
one with the memory of faceless beings whose spirit he set free
one with the million curses that were spitted by those he rendered homeless
one with the warlord who whipped the herd
one with the battle angel that shielded every blow
one with the sharpness of steel that imposed pain and more
one with the fly infested earth that saw the gore
one with the dance of death
one with the battle of no return
one with the one he was
a WARMONGER

(e-snap : Garuda, Malaiarasan Temple, Arrupukottai, 11/2008)

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The Gardener's Acres

2009-10-19T08:40:00.000-07:00

The umber virgin terrain,
that spread across acres,
cut open by a plough,
oozed to birth numerous saplings
that sprouted from seeds,
planted unseen.

The young ones spiral higher
into the uncharted skies,
propelled by the forces of nature
that acts all in vice,
making them mature with every
shine, gush and pour.

The roots dig deeper
parting the soft wet soil,
withering away the innocence
to come into existence.
Having shed the inhibition
and growing stronger
with the changing seasons,
the once tender sapling blossoms,
emitting fragrance that arouses lust
even among the blind's bosom.

Gently swaying to the unheard rhythm
the hue that adorn the acres
paint a ode to a vibrant creation.

Lost among this cacophony of
orchestrated perfection
are a few called 'imperfections'.

Stripped naked
of a fertile creation,
these 'imperfections' stagger
along trying to dance
with a all too flattered perfection.

In a random cycle, does the Gardener
grace upon His manifestation.
The acres busy in an enigmatic trance,
fail to acknowledge the Gardener
who nurtured them into existence.

Shunned away from the dance,
are the 'imperfections' who seek
the Gardener who sees through
their imperfections.

A new lease of existence springs
upon these 'imperfections'
whose constant lease of drought
find the Gardener's touch
a resurrection.

The Gardener walks silently past
His infinite acres of creation
to tend another set of 'imperfections'.
Not all of the acres witness this
moment of revelation,
except for the 'imperfections'.

The cycle turns, the shadows enlarge,
the acres age to become trees,
cracked and hard upon whose
outstretched arms rest other creations.

And they erode
with every ring being added
to sow back into the barren land
the seeds of future acres.

(e-snap : Outside Viscomm Department, Loyola College, 1998)

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Philosophy 2.0

2009-10-19T06:23:00.000-07:00

UI
(U & I)

U don't hear what I feel

U don't see what I do
U don't answer when I seek
U don't listen when I pen
U don't comprehend when I simplify
U don't respond when I wait
U don't speak when I question
U don't please when I fume
U don't ask when I quit

What a lousy User Interface are U to me?

Then came along GUI.

(e-snap : ruins outside Madurai Meenakshi Temple, 12/2007)

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BLUE KARMA

2009-10-14T12:29:00.000-07:00

Isolated from the madding crowd,
on the heights of topless towers,
flexing tissues and bones,
to shape a dream of iron and steel,
not sprouted from his head,
toiled the worker, for a meager feed.

The fireball in relentless pursuit
to scorch his back and tan his skin,
as he sweats for folks in a distant land
he recalls as home.
The faces he recognizes here
trickles memories of people he left
behind in a journey of selfless sacrifice.

End of the day he is banished
to his distant camp
as the beings who make
the limelight and dwell
in towers of great height,
easily forget who took them there first.

The hot spiceless food,
cooked by an unknown hand,
is without any warmth.
`As he bites into the last morsel
and gulps down the alien water',
a laughter from the table corner
echoes memories of time parallel
from a land where his heart is.

Yet he finds himself here
in the land of black gold
to send a penny back home
to put a smile he never sees
till a year or two passes by.

Entrapped in the snare
laid by karma leased to time,
he cries in pain
which gets muted
by the time it reaches
the dwellers of high towers.

(e-snap : ruins outside Madurai Meenakshi Temple, 12/2007)

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Heart of Plastic - Gold, Silver, Platinum, Titanium

2009-10-13T19:57:00.000-07:00

21:30
pointlessly strolling in one
of the numerous malls:

fresh arrivals titled design 2.0
ambushes my imagination,
works up my chemicals
to create a compelling desire,
"I want it now."

To make up the numbers
in my wardrobe and to wear it
to gatherings, so that there is
something "new" to talk about.

I walk up to the counter,
flash my plastic and walk out
with my desire packed in plastic
with a smile that is as much as that,

I step out with a heart
that is shaped by plastic.
Life goes on.

21:30 hours
Walking down in an unknown street
filled with hawkers buzz and pot holes:

The little one spots a toy that captures her
imagination and fancies her heart

but the pocket is not deep enough
nor is there any plastic to swipe
to wipe out that desire.

tears are what is left in her heart
not shed in her cheeks,
as she walks out of that street.
Life moves on.

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LOVEFIELD

2009-09-30T09:00:00.000-07:00

Scars earned from the 'battlefield'
are sewn with vengeance.
For the ones sustained on 'lovefield'
is there any retribution?

The visible one,
spurs a gab.
For the concealed,
can solace be ever found?

Memory remains, of the one
given by steel.
Pain lasts, for the one
when you took
your touch away.

Signs of been healed
are the scars,
Mine are in depths
where no cure can reach.

(e-collage : paper & glue, 1998)

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Reconnaissance

2009-09-24T21:05:00.000-07:00

Perched on a higher altitude
beyond mortal grasp
awaits the marksman.

Crouching, camouflaged,
breathing dead still
with hawk-eye precision
and a voyeuristic vision,
he watches without a blink.

i bare myself,
materially naked,
spiritually depleted
and intellectually ignorant,
raise my head
and throw up my hand,
to yell out from the labyrinth
of my heart to free myself
so that He can take me down,
with his rustic silver bullet.

Deliverance doesn't come,
for the moment is not mine,
as i am yet to come into the
range of his viewfinder
for him to pull the trigger
which is not in his hands either.

i utter a different curse unlike
the million others who do when
his silver bullet finds the mark.

He is despised because
he wears an attire of sorrow
and veils himself in misery
and brings about pain.
Nothing is grey about him
nor black and white
for no one knows
when he would take aim
for if he does it would never fail.

They call him Death and many other
names, but for the moment i call him
the Sniper.

(e-collage : paper & glue, 1998)

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...........................

2009-09-20T05:09:00.000-07:00

The Constant trembled in the
array of infinite emptiness.

And disguised itself in a variable
to limit it.

Racing to fill the ceaseless void
with variants of extreme degrees
such as work, emotion, life and thought...
did the variable try to nullify an equation.

For a fraction of a second that ranged from
zero to limited count did the void seemed filled
and the variable appeared solved.

Yet the unsolved solved expressed
to zero-in on a solution
for a problem that sought none

For emptiness was constant
And what was constant was empty.

(e-collage : paper & glue, 1997)

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the grammar uncorrect

2009-05-28T04:52:00.000-07:00

the never-lasting beauty
the skeptical truth
the deciphering lie
the painful healing

the ceaseless time
the non-existent chaos
the unspoken images
the diverse monotony
the undying change

the constrained infinity
the unconditional space
the muted love
the endless start
the blessed misery
the flawless entity
the unorganized symmetry

the lifeless death
the deathless birth
the polished blemish
the untainted stain
the shiny darkness
the black-hole light
the dated update
the still ripple

the mirage reality
the blurred clarity
the silent echo
the whispering yell
the colorful odour
the senseless meaning

(e-collage : paper & glue, 1998)

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Prologue

2009-04-19T00:22:00.000-07:00

It's nearing 6pm.
My mobile is still silent.
It has been so, ever since
the start of this new year.
And will remain so.

It's christmas eve - December 24th, 2008,
everyone is looking forward to the night
and drawing plans for the long weekend.
And so am I.

It's nearing 6pm.
My mobile rings.
Instead of the accustomed voice, i hear my brother's.
He speaks fast, gasping for breath.
"Mom's fainted, near Jumbo electronics.
Emergency is here. Come fast."

It's nearing 2pm.
My mobile is still.
I just remember that i haven't spoken
to my mom for the last 48 hours.
Nor has she called me at 6pm or at 2pm after lunch.

Engrossed in work which never ceases.
I decide to speak to her.
I call home. She refuses to speak at first.
Something makes me persist. She then
does - her last words to me.

It's past 12pm.
My mobile lies silent.
It's been months since I heard her.

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Pondy Bazaar & other Bazaars

2008-12-16T04:51:00.000-08:00

1. When it comes to arguing with the street side hawkers for a price cut we go all out for a tooth and nail battle. It's as if losing 10 rupees to him would shatter your dreams of building a TAJ. Whereas when it comes to paying a bill in a 5 star restaurant or while purchasing a branded wear we never question the exorbitant prices charged. We just keep our mouth shut and buy it.

Most of the time we proudly brag about how we saved 20 rupees on a product by fighting with the hawker! They become tea time discussions for most.

2. The funny thing about auto drivers is that they ask you quote an amount for the journey and then start arguing with you for quoting so low. Rather they need to be the guys quoting the price first!!

3. The moment you get off from a 4-wheeler on any busy vegetable market in India, the prices of the stuff on display becomes "double"!

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Talk about cutting jobs, i suggest cutting costs first!

2008-12-12T11:56:00.001-08:00

Are we in a recession? I don't think so for the following reasons:

1. The CEOs of the 3 giant automobile companies in US, flew by their private jets to ask for a bail out package!

2. Recently, a company had a crisis meeting to tackle the oncoming recession - to discuss about efficiency and cost saving. Guess where they discussed this. In comfort of a beach resort conference hall!!! They would have done justice if this discussion was held in the office conference room with some lunch ordered in.

3. Why don't companies cut their dividends to share holders instead of cutting jobs?
Talk about cutting jobs, i suggest cutting costs first.

Moreover, the current financial meltdown is like the football game. Where 22 people battle it out for one football. Why not give them 22 footballs so all are happy. Similarly, why not print extra currency notes. If you think for a moment the currency itself does not any value unless it is equated with something. You need currency to afford a house, eat food, watch a movie. So the end thing what you do with the currency is more important than the currency itself. So there is no harm in printing those extra notes for all ;)
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Sky is the limit !!!

2008-12-09T02:51:00.000-08:00

Having been lucky to travel sky high in some of the finest and economical airlines, no matter the duration of the flight - domestic or international, there was humour to be found always:

EK: Emirates Airlines flight bound to Chennai(MAA) from Dubai(DXB)

Pretty chicks but of no help!
1. Had some of the prettiest looking air hostess who could never help the passengers load the hand lagguages into the cabin lagguage space. Everything had to be done by the passengers including the locking of the lagguage door!

Choose a language!
2. The captain of the flight boasted of having people of different natiaonality serving you, air hostesses who could speak Farsi, spanish, german, polish, arabic, chinese and english. It was a chennai bound flight, expecting an air hostess to speak tamil would be too much of an ask but atleast Hindi would have helped :)

IC905: Indian Airlines flight bound to DXB from MAA
No matter how early you arrive at the Chennai airport with a confirmed ticket, the chances of missing a IC flight bound to DXB is plenty!

HouseFull
1. They are usually overbooked for reasons known to them. I was able to figure it out this time. They had issued two boarding passes with the same seat number "12A". Luckily before i could get into an argument with the other gentleman who had the same seat number, an airhostess stepped in to take both our boarding passes with out even an explanation, vanished into thin air - filmi style!!! After a 5 minute wait, she gets back to escort the other gentleman to seat 17A which was luckily empty! Now that is one reason why the flight seems to get over booked.

Statutory warning
2. The free flow of liquor in the air does not complement the efforts taken by the government at the ground level, urging people to quit drinking! Moreover the wait for the food (which came later around one hour into the journey after 2 rounds of alcohol was served) is frustrating especially if the flight was delayed by two hours and top of it you are a teetotaller!

Gate number, please!
3. There was never a gate number for the IC flight bound to Dubai (a flight leaving the next day had one!!) and it never took off on time (ETD was 20:00hrs but it could take upto 22:30 to leave chennai).

Sweets anyone
4. Utter disregard for the passenger's health could be seen on the menu of the food tray that was been served. We all know that the diabetics is silently taking the world over and India being among the forefront of most reported cases. In all the IC flights there is usually a bowl of sweet, not one burfi/mysore pak but two measuring upto a size of a brick! At this rate we will sure be no.1 for the wrong thing!

Name change
5. Indian Airlines became Indian about a year back and now again it has become Air India! A guy who flew in that one year period is sure to be lost!

Rotation/Replacement policy
6. Would like to applaud the strategy adopted by the IC management. Instead of asking the old air hostesses to retire they just get shifted to the domestic circuit where as the young ones go international! With private airlines giving tough competition maybe the IC management would like to rethink or devise a new strategy!

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Close Encounter of the "Auto" Kind (a.k.a. Auto, Arrow and Armani - Part 2)

2008-12-08T14:04:00.000-08:00

(On Muthu's Auto)

Nov.5th, 2008, 19:45 hrs

I land at Chennai airport after a 12 day ordeal with my travel documents status quo. That left me poorer by 12 days out of 25 day vacation plan. Was heading to my friends place for the night and the best mode of transport for a guy traveling single with bare minimal lagguage was auto.

Promptly looked for a guy who didn't seem too marketing savvy (the kind who come upto you asking whether you needed a auto and giving you the liberty intially to quote a price for the destination and then fight with you for it!!) Luckly found a guy who seemed to be a misfit in the trade of auto driving. The price he bargained for dropping me in my destination was reasonable. I was in no mood to argue with fifty percent of my vacation having been blown up for paper work.

Out of habit i engaged in a conversation to find out what was happening in Chennai. A ritual i am accustomed to when ever i come down on a vacation. It seemed a harmless conversation when he suddenly made an appeal to me. He asked me from where i was and if i could or find someone help fund his son's education. He had already jumped two term fees for his son and was on the verge of being served an eviction notice. I initially stayed out of it, just listening to his story as a passive person would do. A few things i came to realise in that 45 minute conversation centric auto journey:

1. Cost of living had gone up. Just bcos the IT faternity are earning a fancy 6 digit figure (rather close to it) didn't mean that the rest of the population was doing so!

2. Education scenario has changed a lot. To afford a decent education for a 5th grade in an averge school you needed to be prepared to shell out close to INR 6000 - 8000 per annum. Per term it was Rs. 1500 (a term was made of 3 months in this case) and to top it up there was a capitation fee of Rs. 2000 that needed to be shelled out intially!! Just dawned on me that it would be difficult for people to afford education at this rate and educate themselves for 12 years was a tough task. I was lucky to have my parents help me out when it came to doubts on any subjects. But imagine the plight of first generation literates, to whom would they turn for help. Hats off to those who have educated themselves.

3. It was tough being a auto driver with no fixed income, security or insurance, or credit cards to fall back upon, with greedy traffic police on your back to fleece money out of you at any given opportunity and the commuter who could never really identify with them. And along with this all included no PF or pension on retirement.

Well, i was a bit hesistant to help him on the first instance. As an educated sophisticated guy, i demanded that he took me to the school, produced bills and the notices he had received from the school. The poor guy brought in all the concerned papers (he had intially proposed to take me to the school and meet the principal to convince me). Having gone through all the papers and finding it satisfactory, i decided to help him. I managed to clear one term fee out of the two outstanding. Will try to work out something for his son.

On deeper involvement, i got to know he was new to the auto trade. Earlier he was working in the hospitality industry as F&B service boy. He made good money at the star hotel and was able to afford education for his first child till college. About 2 years back the hotel shut down to be converted into a hospital as a result of which he lost his job. He migrated into the auto line and is yet to smarten his earning skills. It wont be long before he joins the "typical Auto" tag.

So what do I get to say at the end of this all: Not all Auto guys are what they are known to be?

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Ex IT / EXIT

2008-12-08T13:49:00.000-08:00

Came across this sign on the Indian Airlines flight called "back to work" :)

It seemed apt for the economic recession we are living in. It read EXIT (a call for the IT professionals to exit) or Ex IT (one that read I had been there and done that in IT). What was more apt was finding this sign on the flight. The mode of transport most IT pros are used to!!!

Or was this all a bad connect ; l
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The Yardstick for a Good Movie

2008-12-08T10:50:00.000-08:00

My dad once told me, the yardstick for a good movie is that you would be discussing/debating about it, even after it is long over. Not the kind of discussion about how the actor or actress looked but rather about the story and the connection it has to our lives and surroundings.

Some of the movies that measure up to the yard stick:

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No listening...

2008-09-02T05:16:00.000-07:00

Every year millions are spent on making people quit the habit of smoking and stop new aspirants from joining their ranks through advertising. And recent studies shows that all these years of advertising has paid as it has reduced young aspirants from joining the ranks of smokers.

But, the most sensible thing to do would be to close down the cigarette factories!
This would ensure that by next 3-4 generations the habit of smoking would be forgotten for sure and would save lives, money and a lot more.

Is anyone listening?
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WASTE-YARD

2008-07-24T11:57:00.000-07:00

Hiding behind the rocks, the spaceman surveyed the strange crooked beings that walked in front of him. Some seemed two legged while majority had some crude limb formation that aided their movement. Their biological formation seemed to possess no symmetry or design for easiness. Whatever mind produced them must have had an evil intent.

The terrain seemed unfamiliar and it was nothing like any of their planets that was in their galaxy. Indeed this was a new planet they had discovered along with this weird species after years of trying to desperately find some form of life in the Milkyway Galaxy.

It seemed their mission was not in vain except for the fact that their communication was jammed after they had been through the sudden cloud of dust which disrupted their flight pattern briefly. The engineer was working on it, some time soon they would be able to establish contact with earth and beam this discovery.

There seemed to be no sign of flora and fauna. The soil seemed devoid of any life form barring the ones who walked on it. And nothing flew above. The monotonous dead horizon was occasionally interrupted by cylindrical incomplete shapes. They were round and rose high up the ground. They had seen this shape cover most of the planet's surface when they were descending.

The incomplete structure struck a chord of familiarity in the spaceman's mind. He dismissed the thought without any further pondering as he made his way back to where his ship had landed.
The communication system must be up and running now. A sly smile appeared on his face as he could not wait any longer to communicate this discovery.

A piece of metal which jutted out from the terrain, foiled the spaceman's hastened steps as he tripped and fell. The spaceman pulled out the plate which was the cause of his fall and cleaned the surface to view the inscriptions on it. The colour of the inscription had faded with time but the circular sign which was broken into 3 pieces with a smaller circle in the center, bore a similarity to one of the signs he had constantly witnessed on his planet. This made the spaceman's face turn pale and he fell on his knees when he completed reading the message. The shadow of one of the incomplete tower grew longer and fell on him with the fading light. It made perfect sense now.

The message on the sign read: " CAUTION: RADIOACTIVE AREA", Tarapur, India

( Post inspired by the Nuclear Pact that is going to be signed by India)

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