From the Eye of a Kaleidoscope.

2013-10-19T02:00:00.000-07:00

An Impeccable Drug.

Cracked clotted eyeballs, shivering shaky hands,

observed & inferred the lonely self where the congest world stands .

An Escape to this Isolation, bliss in my abyss,

an uninvited ‘DRUG crawling in my life’ ,

where I smoke out a ‘LIFE crawling in my drug’.

Flowing in my veins, like a slow sweet poison

Doping me off so high ,where I meet her in the divine horizon.

Her smokes so Strong ,so neat within,

like a morning Instant Sticks for a ‘Temple of Sin’ .

Although drag by drag ,I smoke it in

but with each drag in ,she glows at her burned end ,

like a ebullient chirping sparrows snatching a grain from either end.

Those rings of fumes which I exhale out with variable frequency,

Cleanses away eons of solitariness of my expectancy.

They say why so early, she is burning u like a goon,

the DRUG of yours is just a temporary monsoon,

if sustained dragging in ,u will die so Soon.

IF death is a final call ,and that’s the only Case

I ll ask these self proclaimed ‘Critics’ of my Life,

fulfill my wish, in this Armageddon.

Amalgamate my Ash with the ashes of my DRUG.

Then I ll have a deathless LIFE beyond this life.

Awww!! Darling you look Stunning....

2013-06-21T04:10:00.001-07:00

DISCLAIMER:

While this assumption is based upon generality…there r always exceptions to it so if u don’t like it..think u are an exception ,now continue reading!!

“Awwww!! Darling u look stunning!!” , was the comment by a girl on a freshly uploaded pic of one female friend of mine that actually inspired me to come up with this post. Most women are more sensitive about their looks than their feelings. Criticize how she looks and you risk hurting her and hurtling yourself out like yesterday’s chapatis. And how do you gauge her sensitivity? It’s simple, just try clicking her pic. Slowly take out your camera, aim and wait for the miraculous transformation. Watch her eyes turn into limpid pools of kindness, prepare to get blinded by her dazzling smile. But not before she flips her hair, turns her face 45 degrees north (her best angle), pinches her cheeks and smiles her mysterious smile. The one that makes her look like Monalisa plus the teeths

You see, she wants the world to see what she sees in the mirror. Candid clicks are a big no and you can’t get away with just one shot. You are expected to click her again and again from different angles. It’s not because she doesn’t trust you. Experience and many ugly mugshots have taught her that you and your camera take time to warm up to her loveliness. So, she is willing to say cheese 17 times, just for the sake of a priceless capture from her perspective. The one she can proudly show to her grandkids, when she gets old and wrinkled. Then she will grandly inspect all the shots you took and make you promise to delete the unflattering ones. If you don’t, you risk her wrath. If you upload it on Facebook, you risk getting killed.

Women have a secret pact – “thou shalt not tag/upload any ugly shots of ours”. The moment a friend takes out her/his mobile and aims, they exchange that secret look. “You will make me look like the diva that I am actually”. Photos that inadvertently capture Parties indulgences spilling out of there jeans or make them look like a hungry hippopotamus, are meant to live happily ever after in the recycle bin. Since most photos are clicked for the sake of Facebook, they make sure each one of them is informed once they have been uploaded. And then they wait for the comments to follow. Look aghast when only 15 friends like it. Pretend to blush when someone gushes about how she looks.

Follow the instructions carefully.

In my distorted opinion, women spend 33.3% of their lives complimenting each other about their looks. One look at a new profile pic on a social networking site and you’ll know what I’m talking about. Out of the 55 comments she gets, 49 will be from her girlfriends, rest will be of those wannabe boyfriends (who are still in the lane)– “Ooo, you gorgeous thing!” Again there’s a secret pact. In a parallel universe it’s called reciprocity. “You praise me and I will praise you back – get it?”

I blame social networking sites. Before Facebook, they wud quietly click a few dozen pics of them frolicking in GOA or a Hill side trip, stick them inside an album with a floral cover, wait for relatives to come over and pounce on them. They’d leaf through the albums, sip RoohAfza and make a few appreciative noises. That was it. To be called beautiful, they had to solely rely on the free services provided by roadside Romeos. Of course, except that the verbally challenged ones could only express their appreciation by whistling. And that was perfectly okay! And now thanks to our 567 online friends, who spend all their waking hours waiting to like you and your pics, how can you not believe that you are God’s gift to mankind?

Men seem to be under the impression that they dress up for them. Let me roll on the floor laughing before I shout – you are so wrong! “Nope, they dress up for other femmes”. Only a woman is capable of noticing the finer nuances of appearance of her species –“the all new plum shade of lipstick”, “the perfectly tailored trouser that sits so flatteringly on her bum”, “the brand new clunky watch!”And it takes them exactly 10 seconds before they furnish this appraisal. Now when they turn towards their man and all they will be able to muster is –“ looking nice, babe!”. They try their best not look affronted and smile painfully. Yes, it hurts to be called nice. It hurts more if someone calls you cute and it hurts the most when someone has the audacity to suggest – Erm! You look better in your photographs. Try saying that and you will be hurled out like yesterday’s chapatis.

It’s because all of them would like to believe, that they are prettier and slimmer than there pics. But if you want to risk life-long affection from her, try looking for her inner beauty or just fake even if you cant. Tell her she is different and unique and she stands out from other women. The next thing she will ask you is the details and to elaborate “What so different about me!!” all you got to do is tell her, whatever properties of her irritates you in a most “positive & eccentric manner” that’s it ,trust me! it has worked for me all the time. Coz they are suckers for men who appreciate them for the person they are.

Male-o-philic Society or a beast, petrifying Anxiety.

2013-03-22T12:55:00.003-07:00

Once upon a time 3 months ago….. sounds strange right?, but this is what we have pretentiously assumed that it happened years ago, that there had been a girl who slapped our society who was found lying in a road. Bleeding away from a life that she was never allowed to live, and off to a demise that found her dead before it arrived. Her body that’s bruised with an Iron rod, her intestine that hangs out of her body in blood and gore, and her eyes that overflow with gallons of a feeling that no living creature should ever be forced to feel, strips the entire human race naked in a blink. Raped, abused and dying, Nirbhaya is only twenty four years old. being the victim of the animalistic instinct of its Own kind. Time has once again proved that it’s the cure of all pain and pathos.

A lot of things have been said and done in all concern of artificiality, where we were busy sharing/ liking or updating status about this heinous crime or may be making a virtual emotions vivid by having a friends get together in a Candle march .While everyone writing/expressing their grief in a third person point of view, about the cause ,the reason of my reluctance hesitation was that I not sure of my own instincts, because everytime it’s my Co-gender who proves to be a Villain. Everytime it’s a beast within ,that rise up candidly and overpower the MEN of our society .While I am scribbling on these pages ,there are incessant questions that bangs my head .How many times I have ever checked out a cute girl passing by ??,or how many times I have been a part of this discussion where we all comment about her physical assets .Do I, even have the right to discuss and express about this new generation social evil where homo sapiens of my gender is the one who is solely responsible .If you reading this and you claim to be ‘man’ I ask you the same questions…How do u feel ??Embarrassed!! Or you bluntly said ‘No, I have never done all this’ lying to yourself, because you don’t wanna take that dirt on your shoulder. Relax , I am not accusing anyone, neither this is a legal crime for which you can be penalized ,am just asking you to concentrate on that beast within ,that overpowers you and makses your actions his slave. God has been selfish enough to make us like that ,so that this world may go on, but He never knew ,how his over-Intelligent creation, would bring out his beastly tendencies.

Logically and biologically, one can blame his testosterones over secretion that makes him cross all social boundaries. It’s ironical yet correct that how male hormones overpowers his brain. “She was asking for it,” “she was wearing revealing clothes,” “she has a reputation of ‘sleeping around’” and “she had been drinking”. When discussing rape, statements such as these are referred to as victim blaming. Victim blaming justifies the rapist’s actions while placing blame on the victim. Rape is never the victims’ fault, but still, victim blaming, believe it or not, is extremely common, even in supposedly unbiased academic research. Male psychology has reasons of supporting such sexual assaults , sadism ,ego and sense of being physically powerful are few of the many reasons, but how does he forgets that one-day your mom and your sister will come to know about it ,and from where will you gather the courage to peep into their eyes, now where does this part of the psychology Go??..I know and am saying again it’s our beast within .

Last day I read a news ,where a Uttar Pradesh ,senior police officer boldly accused the rape victim(an elderly women) for creating false accusation and supported it by saying “Who would rape a mother of four??”. At least one-thing I inferred “that his choice of raping would be not an elderly woman:/”.Now this where the problem lies both the culprit and law person have the same mentality, they both are governed by the same psychology and unknowingly or sometime even intentionally we tend to defend our gender. Honestly! I feel it’s just a veil of social responsibility that help these educated yet ignorant government officials to suppress there beast within.Indeed a Male-o-philic society it is ,where on one side there are great men making remarkable dents and creating history and at the same time there are beasts taking gigantic forms with the moving time.

When I try to ponder over my thoughts as to why this brutality is increasing exponentially?? why every second day we tend to hear at least one case of sexual assault with victims falling in the age range of a “four year old girl to a woman of forty” and Bangalore being the second after Delhi in “being the most unsafe cities for women”. The only conclusion that I come to everytime is a mere frustration and our presumed sense of being physically powerful that act as a catalyst to this reaction. Men are saddened by rejections, frustrated by failures and some who belong to the educated class (that Includes your Uncles ,Tuition teachers and may be some times directly incest)are simply paranoid and psychopaths that shroud there mental illness in the Day light.

Now those who are educated versions of beasts and pretending to be normal socially have their easy victims as small kids and teenage females ,for they feel that there will no be defense mechanism from the victim side. Ironically thats the truth, most of these cases are hidden in dark room of many houses killing that innocent puzzled souls . The most precious years of a girl’s life start and end with her time as a little kid. I cannot imagine replacing the memories of my sister or any small angel for that sake of wearing pink frilled Cinderella frocks, getting teeny-weeny nails painted so excitedly, making landscapes on the mirror with Mummy’s lipsticks and having Papa wiping her tears each time she falls and scrape her knees, with the incomprehensible ordeal of repeated gang rapes, substance abuse and finally, a slow and traumatic death by sexually transmitted diseases. Because when she was four years old, the biggest tragedy of her life were her broken Mr. Clean crayons, and that’s why I promise to work for creating a world, where no four-year-old girl ever has to face a bigger tragedy. I promise to suppress that beast within everytime ,I promise to teach my coming generation of male gender, that why he should respect his Creator’s gender and what is her position and significance in his life . If you have read till the end of this bizarre article ,am sure there is still some sense of humanity that comes before your male ego then So shall you promise as well .

I must Keep Writing !!..

2012-07-08T14:16:00.002-07:00

Little, occasional words find their homes in insecure sentences.

An obvious lack of brilliance.

Yet, words tumble out with the humble aspiration of kissing divinity.

Like the incessant breathing, in joy and sorrow alike,

And therefore I must keep writing.

May be I m hungry ,for fame and glory

hence I must keep writing.

Perhaps ,Swallow pain from a distance and ruminate.

See pathos in naked eyes and romanticize.

Which makes my soul burps , that I must keep Writing.

Oh poetry and prose what have you done.

You make me write,from air-cooled rooms

About your futility.You are anesthesia

for escapists like me.

Therefore I must keep writing.

I am the one ,Who can see the

world and write about it.

But cannot do anything else except writing,

So I will keep on writing.

MY MANTLE , THE SOLITARY MOUNTAIN.

2012-06-08T19:26:00.000-07:00

Weakest were my limbs

Strongest were those winds,

Yet I survived and cherished ,

'COZ there was Thick Mantle I had, who never Perished.

A tall brown Eyed Man,

who worked all day and night like ebullient Swan.

This one belongs to My strength ,my Creator who has always being stood there as a Mountain ,a worn out Mantle that never needs to be folded be it a dawn or twilight of my LIFE ..Alone he stands covering the three weak souls ,and with a strong belief in his mind ..that a Day not too far ,that a Mist not too dense ,when he will find his Solace from these ‘weak ’ souls ,he armored .My mantle though roughly knitted , has taken all care that I get all those finest of stitches .The little what he has, gives me more than the most what he can .These broken soles and those oldest pair of Pants ..tells me the story of this Epitome of Sacrifice, yet he never Complains, never Explain coz the fuel of joy and his ultimate happiness resonates with the smiles he brings in three lives face. From Childhood to my youth whenever I feel low ,whenever I feel feared ,the day I feel like a loser ..there is a phrase that always rekindles my mind ,body and Soul that phrase “Koi Nahin Papa hain na”.

What beholds As a roughest rugged Cloth to the ‘Critics ’ of this Judgmental World is nothing more than pulpy Mantle of mine . From a School time ‘tiffin-maker’ to a All time ‘WishMaker’ as seen this characters in various different Shoes . Though just a solitary crumpled note lie there in his pocket ,but how He create a miracles when her tender finger points to the worldly Temptations and her inherited big eyes interacts with her ‘Inheritance’. How can someone dares to bring the Stars when he is still straddling ?? How can Mantle so Warmth within, when itself has freezes to cold??An inquest so Complex, so deep within that everytime and anytime I wonder for these retorts …just a saying bangs my head that “Any fool can be a Father, but its takes courage to be the PAPA”.

The stubborn Gardener of a Sand-dune

2012-05-12T19:34:00.001-07:00

This is a small homage to that stubborn woman ,who intricately ,untiringly keeps on fighting ...who had this undying courage to change a lifeless sand dunes into a lush green grasslands and will hopefully very soon would become a dense green forest and its all coz of her unique strongest persistence which she continuously puts in .This is a homage to my mom/mummy/ma, when i feel the life of this woman its gives goose bumps all over me.When i, being the closest and may be the only observer goes into a flashback , i see her struggling ,i see her undying attitude of sowing those two little seeds,nd turning those seeds into sapling ,from sapling to plant and may be a tree one day .All through the transition of these seeds she always stood by there side ,in the scorching sun and in those sands storm ,whatever happens and had happened ,i saw her standing covering these seeds ,with the little torn clothes she have .she bares the sun ,she bares heat ,she bares everything wat comes to her way ,but she had never let these seeds die away .Her cracked ankles buried into those sand dune ,stood firm and still constantly guarding these two little seeds . Once being the true epitome of beauty and bearing the finest IQ could have being like a 'proud peacock' ,could have being the most elegant lady ..this is not what she deserve ,this is not what she was made for ...but i know not why ??..why she chose to be a gardener ..a gardener of a sand dunes ,where all her magnificent beauty is being gradually replaced by those wrinkles and this scorching sun takes away her charm . All i can see is her pair of watery eyes ,with a real scintillating beauty ,and bright ray of hopes that is strong enough to make this Devilish sun dull ...A hope that one day the seeds which she sowed will become a lush green big tree, a tree in a Sand dunes .A Gardener so dedicated , a Gardener with Life's single selfless aim ...is she a human or a God's Angel with no name ??.Whatever she is ,whoever she is , i often call her 'mummy' ,i always feel her and i always see her, when i fall weak ,when i fear something and when courage leave me alone .On this mother's day i pay homage to the only God i know, to the only chant i say "Mummy".

Tell me . . .!?!

2012-01-21T07:10:00.000-08:00

Tell me that you wake up sometimes and feel inadequate, complexed and under-confident.
Tell me that you sometimes feel like the world's biggest loser.
That you are not good enough to do anything remotely significant.
Or that you've felt weak, and hated yourself for how you can complicate simplicity.
Tell me that sometime in your life you've wrecked your ship, intentionally
And for the longest time, ambled in self-pity and romantic misery.
Tell me man, if you have not had the balls to do your thing

.And felt a sinking feeling in your heart.
You better tell me if you have.
So that I don't feel feebler.And unmanly.
You see,I don't want to be the only one.

FAC(K)EBOOK GENXx.......

2012-01-18T09:29:00.000-08:00

We are the Facebook Generation. We change the world with a status message. Our voices on hungry walls create social revolutions. And the 'Likes' on our comments are certainly not massages for our e-ego. Certainly, we are the Facebook Generation. Our time is very consciously spent collecting essential life information on News Feed.

And our Farm Ville activity contributes significantly to the GDP. Clicking pictures for Facebook often becomes the agenda of many holidays. Such is its influence. What a parched era, the one before Facebook was. People spent time 'actually' meeting each other. Most people had friends they could count on their fingertips. And what a tragedy it must've been to be at work, and actually work.

Clearly, the Facebook Generation is a charmed one. Imagine, a world without the blue and white font, the Home button, the Profile button - and those long hours spent in the comfort of creating a Facebook version of us. What an insipid world, really.
History will remember us as a unique people. In as many splendid eras as there were in the past, ours would be heralded as a memorable one. Our names will be etched as those men and women who neither created, nor destroyed. Neither provoked nor fostered and neither changed nor blocked. What we will be remembered as is a generation that swum gleefully in the status quo. A generation lost in the absence of a cause. A generation absent in the face of many a cause.

But, we are the Facebook Generation. A generation that changes the world with a status message.