Sulaiman's work- my dream mausoleum

Euthanasia [ MERCY KILLING ]

2013-06-12T02:59:00.000+05:30

Before I start this poem, I would wanna add a quote said by Martin Luther King --> " No one is truly free to live, until one is free to die"

Euthanasia
source: http://goo.gl/gKp9l

There I see him lay, awake and still,
Tacit and secluded, staring at window sill.
Impassive for a years, with an Illness,
Which never decided to leave his body axis.
His Drugs were out of action,
Unplayable expenses was a caution.
His cries and mourn were rife ,
Pleading and attempting to end his life.

Soon, There was a meeting,
To euthanize him, was the magisterial granting.
Sending him to his death bed,
with a dreamless sleep that lulls the dead.
The duty was rendered to me,
My soul wasn't ready to agree.
Abashed, if this was the right option here,
For a life was ought to disappear.

No friends or relatives were there,
None wanting to be his heir.
An I.V cannula was slowly inserted ,
And a syringe already loaded.
He was asked again,
On wanting to invert his decision?
With pain in every heart tick,
He wanted the poison to do the trick.

Call me a Brutal Killer,
or a qualified murderer.
I located his vein,
Injected the lethal tubocuraine.
closed my eyes and gushed,
everyone around were stunned and hushed.
The clock was ticking,
I could sense my sweat dripping.

His Pulse and Respiration went low,
and suddenly became zero.
His eyes began to close,
And soon he went into an endless doze.
His hands held my coat,
As his life traveled in a painless boat.
Making me feel the hardness,
Ceasing my emotional weakness.

-Sulaiman Sait

NOTE : I know Euthanasia (MERCY KILLING) has been a very controversial topic and international debates have been happening over it, henceforth I wish to inform that this poem is completely a work of fiction and doesn't resemble to any character in this poem weather living or dead.

My Ambipur experience - Lost in my dreamland

2013-05-27T06:02:00.000+05:30

Hola amigos, Im back. Here again, I pen down yet another fabulous experience right from center page of my diary, which has been revolving around me since my third Indiblogger meet at The Grand Hyaat, Chennai today.
In my own poetic style I have written down this poem about the Ambipur experience of mine

Reaching a bloggers meet,
Midst the midday Chennai heat.
Drippy drip sweat
perspiration making me wet.
My deodorant had failed,
and my mood derailed
But, soon started the meet,
Entertainment, rhythm of our heartbeat.
Fun filled events, away from bore,
While, the prizes were galore.
Food, promo, skit enactment and social causes
Ultimate fun, until we had to finally tie up our laces

Once I was back into my car,
I tried the complementary ambipur car.
Such enchanting was it fragrance,
Driving me away from my conscience
Soon, I was into the land of my dreams
A place over the mountains,
With, ever flowing musk streams,
And a variety of natures themes.
Away from darkness and sin,
With no pain within.
Summer, rains and winter,
Happiness etched forever.

- Sulaiman Sait

The fun part from the meet was when I was blindfolded and made to sit in a car, which seemed to be fresh cause of the ambipur fragrance, but when I was asked to take off my blindfold- there was a twist - I found myself in a car sordid with leftover pizza, frenchfries, sweat shirts , hanging socks and what not, but then that was the proper test for ambipur's effect and it stayed up to the promise. And finally before I could end this blog post, I would wanna attach some snaps from the meet today

surprise- surprise - we have something special for you

Pic credits : indiblogger (fb)

The chennai Bloggers club at the meet
pics credits - Vinodh .v.v

CBC again
Pics Credits - Kalyan

finally, the indiblogger t-shirt
and the complementary ambi pur car

you can get your set of Ambipur fragrance collection for your car by checking out these fragrances available on Flipkart

BLOOD DONATION EXPERIENCE (HAIKU)

2013-04-30T01:14:00.001+05:30

Today I had my first experience of donating blood, and it was a wonderful feeling, I wish I could sit for long and pen down a poem, but due to time restrictions, I'm going for a couple of Haiku's ( short poem ), (though I'm still an amateur in it )

A needle puncture

lets the river of life

help the world

Bags of life,

willingly donated by good men

superheros for life

--> Sulaiman Sait

To know more about blood donation, check out my post on World Blood donation day, by clicking HERE

JUNJOU AMATORY (Pure passionate romance)

2013-03-30T01:58:00.000+05:30

Statuary Warning --> The content below is not suitable for individuals below the age of 18, if you are under 18, I request you to kindly close this page

Dark eclipsed night,
A stranger prince and a princess plight
Against all odds,
Under the bid of the bawds.
Once a male chauvinist,
For lust, that turned him the kindest
Summing up his alphabets,
Consumed in his craving sonnets.
He praised her, like a Shakespearean poem,
Letting her complacently blossom.

Once he took his booze,
starts smooching her, losing his Blues.
Bang, closed the brothel door,
Stripping her naked to the floor.
Tugging her platinum deck,
He begins pecking her neck.
Giving her ear a bite,
Off, goes the light.
Blazing his body hot,
Soothing the scratch to hit the spot

Deep went his chocolate man,
Into an erection receptacle filled strawberry tan.
Touched by the surface of true love,
Chocolate man moved in with every shove.
Soon, he transformed into a monster,
Thumping her harder and harder.
Passion letting her scream and weep,
As her climax was bout to creep.
She let his chocolate melt and drip
Till it went limp and snip.

--> Sulaiman Sait

P.S - This is completely a work of fiction and imagination and has nothing to do with my personal life or experiences
NOTE ; This title has been named after the animated series Junjou Romantica

COMA - ROBIN COOK, Book review

2013-03-17T00:50:00.001+05:30

I happened to be at Pondycherry for my Christmas holidays and there I spotted this book there at a book stall, For the first time did I ever judge a book by its cover. . The main reason for selecting this book was cause of the bottom line mentioning " Master of Medical thriller" and being a student in the similar field I fancied going for my selection

If you are a ardent reader, Im sure you would never wanna keep this book down once you start this, one can feel their pulse, and heart rate augment as they progress reading the book... That's the same that happened to me --> and, I happened to completed this book in one go ( within 7 hours)

posing with the book (Coma - Robin Cook)

On to the story line --> The story revolves around a third year student ( well I'm in my third year too :-) ) Susan Wheeler- a pretty, young and charming girl, who is assigned to go for her post Operative ward rounds for the very first time, with a small set of her friends at the Boston Memorial hospital , Massachusetts. During her ward rounds, she soon tends to find out about some thing fishy , where 2 patients had gone to coma (including a friend) after something abnormal happened to them after a very simple surgery at the Operation Room #8. She takes the assist of a post graduate intern Dr. Mark Bellows ( who actually had fallen for her) and soon an intricate relationship begins between them. She tells Bellows everything about her investigation, but he doesn't believe in her, and wants her to stop going deep into it.

At every step she smells trouble and is lost in a state where there is no come back. She had even been threatened of even being thrown out of Med school by the Hospital in-charge and senior surgeons, yet she decides to investigate further and further. She then reaches Jefferson's Institute( in search of her comatose friend) where these Comatose bodies were kept and there she discovers that it was a place for black market organ trade. She also finds out that the Hospital in charge was also involved in this. The King pins used to find out the organ matching before the surgery and then in the Operation Room #8, they would induce general anesthetics followed, by short term neuro muscular blockers and finally carbon monoxide to declare the brain dead.

Finally when she reports this to the Cheif of Surgery Dr Harris , In whom she trusted ( but , turns out to be the Unknown Master Mind) tries to Comatose Susan, but is saved by Mark Bellows who manages to disconnect the Carbon Monoxide pipeline to the OR#8 and then the police take over

My Opinion --> For me it was an easy read inspite of the twists and twirls cause I knew most of the medical terms and the drugs, for others Im sure you would need a medical dictionary to read through. The one thing that I personally felt was that the story had a good pace all through , but it ended abruptly

My Rating --> 4.8/ 5

--> Sulaiman Sait

You too can get this book, Here is the Flipkart link to purchase the Imported Edition of this book

Consequences of Love - Sulaiman Addonia - Book Review

2013-02-19T03:27:00.000+05:30

It was my holidays after 12th standard Board Exams and one random day my cousin sister and I decided to go to British Council Library , Chennai, to lend some books, and there my cousin sister's eye fell on this book( as she usually picks up unknown authors ). She also had an affinity towards this book cause the author's name was my namesake. She was the first to read this and pass it on to me and there was no looking back once I started this.
Here is my review for the book - Consequences of Love - Sulaiman. Y.M.S Addonia

Before I start, let me tell you- this is Sulaiman Addonia's debut novel. The story is quite simple as it revolves around the life of a Eritrean Refugee, Nasser, who has recently moved to Jeddah ( a city with complete Islamic law, where any one exempting the Sharia law were given capital punishment ) along with his brother to work under his uncle. Unhappy with his life there, remembering his mother and his past, A splash of colour arrives in Naser’s world when, unexpectedly, a small love note is dropped at his feet from a woman whom he as neither seen before or heard before. She intermediates him that she will wear a pair of pink shoes everytime she passes so that he can pick her out easily from the rest of the women in their respective abayas. Erotic tension runs high; as Naser and his ‘habibati’( whome he describes as Fiore) begin to exchange letters through different channels . But in moments of doubt the pink shoes seem to lead him into tears of thwarted desire, loaded with danger cause relationships between unmarried men and women was illegal – and it’s not long before their real life, but illicit love, faces the hardest test of all…

The central love story is really gripping, sensation and makes your heart beat. The love between Fiore and Nasser was sweetly penned and showed the refreshing innocence and sweetness in the character. I personally felt the authors skill and presentation of portraying his readers with a poetic and romantic environment of forbidden love can be compared to the greatness of Shakesphere. I could see so much of love and depth in emotion in every page I turned. While reading the book I was at the edge of my seat feeling the devotion and breathing the love between Nasser and Fiore. To conclude in one word - it is sensational, and a must read for people who love romantic fiction

Dont Miss your chance to grab this intoxicating novel, you can get it from Flipkart, as the banner is present beneath this post.

--> Sulaiman Sait

HOPELESSLY ROMANTIC , HOPELESSLY LOST

2013-02-10T22:44:00.001+05:30

Before I begin my blog post, Let me thank all my readers cause Its my second blogosvarsary ( Blog- anniversary) today . . !

HOPELESSLY ROMANTIC, HOPELESSLY LOST - AN ARS ROMANTICA

Check out my attempt on a very simple poem below after seeing the video :-

Sam, a young, angry fighterfish,
Cornered, by his masters wish,
Swimming around filled with hopelessness,
He remained artless.
One day unwittingly, his master,
Put him in a bowl with a female fighter.

Her name was Dolly
And he began adoring her beauty
Her fins, her tail,
Revealing a wholesome tale
Soon, began small fights
Ending with bruises and bites.

Soon they became near and dear,
Forgetting all his fear,
He proposed her his affection,
And she accepted it with passion.
The world was surprised,
How two fighter fishes stayed comprised.

Shortly, yet by an accident
The fish bowl had a dent,
Must be an unknown evileye,
Dolly was drawn out, without any sigh
She was gasping for her breath,
And died a painful death

Soon taking a different way,
In search of a new ray,
Sam was left single,
And decides not to mingle.
He soon became dull
And not like his usual

Seeing this, his master finds another female fighter,
Bella, who looked better than the other.
Sam again lost his heart,
While his bygone emotions were torn apart
Soon he was in love with her,
Expecting her to stay forever.

Soon Bella turned evil,
And then began a battle.
Sam was hit and poked,
And then finally choked.
He ended up cursing his master
Who was the trouble initiator

--> Sulaiman Sait

To understand this poem better try REPLACING the Male Fighter Fish ( Sam) by a Boy, Female Fighter Fish 1 (Dolly) by Girl 1, Female Fighter Fish 2 ( Bella ) as the villian and finally The Master as God. . Im sure you will have a better idea of what was in my mind

What Chennai Means to Me ......????

2013-01-30T22:18:00.002+05:30

This post is a part of The Chennai Bloggers Club Tablog , Where the active Chennai circle bloggers have decided to write about "What Chennai Means to them" in their own styles. .The post was preceeded by a group of writes before me, the last one to write and pass the baton to me was Melanie Rayen . . Thank you. . .

Sipping my hot mug of Filter coffee,
I decided to write what Chennai means to me. .
Going by the pages of history ,
A common place for the socials
I then decided to write taste,
What this Metro city has in its haste.

google images

Marina ( google images)

Its been 2 decades since my Birth at this wonderful place and along side me I have seen this city grow, city grow where the small buildings have all been replaced by tall skyscrapers, the city limit has also been expanding , so its population

If asked what I love more about this place, I would definitely vote for the people, who show a good sense of brother hood and are always there when needed. The best part about Chennai is probably the number of Good schools which are around here in the city. So are the wonderful restaurants.

Frankly speaking I have not seen everypart of the city till date, but I know every nook and corner about Anna Nagar ( Thats where I stay ), and no doubt that I have to mention that this is one of the best residential areas in the city.

What adds to the beauty of this city is the presence of the world's second largest beach - The Marina . .!
Its always been a fun time for me to be at the beach and have a gasp of fresh air,Rajaji Salai will remain an unforgettable place as where I learnt my 4 wheeler driving. I also love the other rock and sea side spots ( Kasimedu & Royapuram side, where I escaped from the Tsunami in Dec 2004).

It has always been fun to hang around friends and co-bloggers at various Malls, Cafe's, Hotels,clubs and conferences halls in the city which hosts a number of hangout spots and these are quite safe ( safe to women too) when compared to the other metros

One thing is that I have never bothered a " Rat A$$ " about what the politics goes on here provided we keep receiving freebies from them

Overall I would be proud to be called a "Madrasi" or a "Chennaite" anywhere I go

This Tablog will procede further by post written by R. Shantaram , who has a daily Chennai photo blog and would write about what Chennai means to him

--> Sulaiman Sait

The city of Pearls and Food - Hyderabad ( poem)

2013-01-19T02:13:00.000+05:30

It felt blithe , upon reaching Hyderabad station,
Jolted, by what was a land under the Nawabs possession.
Truely a high-tech city now,
And the first word I said was wow.

The hail nature of people,
like a brother's cuddle.
The intoxicating aroma of Iranian tea,
Mughal Biriyani and Haleem in every alley.

Shopping from the streets of Charminaar,
To the markets of Laad Bazaar,
Sightseeing from the Chowmalla palace,
To the Golconda fort that remains artless

Gazing at ever-famous pearl market
while the Birla planetarium showed the planets,
The Musical Clock at Salar Jung Museum strikes twelve,
And our cicerone has another story to tell

One complete day spent at the Ramoji film city,
Where film making is done cheaply
The last I could visit was the Hussain Sagar Lake,
Where I went rowing , with a co passenger Sheik.

My final walk was to the Railway station
And my train had soon begun
Lately, I realize, a week was over
At Hyderabad city, I wont forget forever

--> Sulaiman Sait

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2013

2013-01-01T00:49:00.000+05:30

Looking back at the months that went by,
I contemplate, to those quick passing moments that brought joy.
The whole year busy with pleasure, joy and delight,
where life was sometimes colorful,sometimes black and white.

I'm now writing these lines in a state of shock,
with my eyes glued to the clock, tick-tock, tick-tock.
Restlessly waiting for the approaching new year,
With newer oaths to adhere.

The calendar on the wall says the same thing,
Time is vanishing, and we are ageing.
So lets lift our glasses
Forgetting our bad past as burnt ashes

Now, wishing you for the happy days,
Let success reach you in myriad ways.
With true happiness and cheer,
I wish you all a happy happy new year.

--> Sulaiman Sait

BAD DREAM

2012-11-27T23:18:00.000+05:30

After a winter's gestation in its egg shell of ice,
Our Valley welcomed the season of rice.
Opening my eyes to the unpolarized morning light,
Braving the reflections around so bright.
Hearing the news of my marriage being fix,
On December the six.
I rush out, without washing my face
Nor tying my shoe lace.
I was on my way to meet my fiance'
Who was a little less beautiful than Beyonce'

She was fancy,
What to say..?
I was allowed to meet her in person ,
All I decided was to praise her and mention.
My body was freezing like ice,
I started praising her from her eyes.
Since I was not in my regular form,
Asked her to select an eye to start from.
She replied - both eyes are the same,
You feel so , not me , oh you insane.
She was beautiful, though she had squints,
She was heavy and to be measured in pints.

With my parents force, I was ready to marry,
Ready to be Jane and Harry.
Evening I had a glimpse of our marriage card,
Printed on paper hard.
A couple of days later was the function,
My life's major junction.
The time and date were set,
Hall was decorated like a Bollywood set.
Within no time, our marriage was over,
Life was gonna turn bitter.
My darling had to split from her mother,
Her absence of tears meant she didn't bother.

Now, she was in car with me,
Excited how our first night was gonna be?
Suddenly she pulls out a knife,
Says im not your wife !!
Within seconds I jumped out of the car,
And, ran away far.
Unexpectedly I, tripped over a plank
Everything went blank
It all ended with a loud scream
To wake me up from my Bad Dream ....!!
With a lot pain I woke up to see,
Just mosquitoes around to flee.
My day was on hold,
My body was cold.
I looked up to the sky,
And thanked the Almighty, for not making me cry...

-Sulaiman Sait

RE-DISCOVERING CHOLAN DYNASTY AT ITC Grand Chola ( Indi -Blogger Meet)

2012-10-28T06:23:00.001+05:30

Here, again I pen down yet another fabulous experience of my life after being to ITC Grand Chola for my second Indi-blogger meet.

In my style I have penned down this poem, portraying myself as a Cholan soul come to re-live the Cholan dynasty .

ITC grand Chola - source : google images

With my Bewildered Cholan soul,
I entered the Palatial Cholan castle with quick stroll,
Unaware of my shoulder suspended Valise,
In search of heavenly peace.
Prime sight of Sangam Lobby mesmerizes me,

Rendering memories of Agasthya Saptha rishi,

Acquaint of Tamil Literature and works so legendary,
Who brought the existence of river Kaveri .
Remembering our greatest leader of all,

I sauntered the large Rajendra Hall.

Soon, A cicerone escorts

and expounds the paintings and sculptures

Exhibiting the beautiful Interiors
Depicting stories of battles and great warriors.

Enticed by aroma of traditional Dishes,

I streaked through the kitchen, Ingesting my wishes.
Until budged the egress statue of Sembian Maha rani,
Honored, Sacred and was a real beauty.

My Cholan soul was now gratified
Re-living past, before attaining heavenly confide

--> Sulaiman Sait

And now before I could end this blog post I would wanna attach some Snaps from the Indi blogger meet
Do check them out

Sangam Lobby
Pic - Sulaiman Sait

Chennai Super blogger's team
Winners - Inaugural edition Indian Bloggers League (IBL)
Pic courtesy - Kalyan .V

Chennai Bloggers club (CBC)
pic courtesy - Kalyan . V

Standing at the Sangam Lobby
pic courtesy - @Kalyan . V

THE RAPE STORY - A POEM WRITTEN IN EMPATHY

2012-10-17T21:09:00.002+05:30

The Last few months has seen a spurt increase in the number of rape cases in the country. .And the Government and Police have been Jolted by these incidences and have been forced to take action to tackle crime against women. On the other side when ever I read about such violence on women I feel bad for them, and whats more worrying is about the after effect on the lives of these women/ girls after their worst encounter with a rapist. Below I have written a poem (imaginary & completely a fiction) about a girl who has been a rape victim and finally opens out to tell her feeling. .!

source - google images

After a month-long silence,
She spoke about her stolen innocence.
It was that raining night,
Sitting upon the porch, with a dim glow of the kerosene light.
Suddenly came a group of men,
And held her with their callous hands and moved her to an unknown den

There were questions in her mind.
And when her fears started to unwind,
It was late, she was stripped off her gown,
She had tears roll, standing face down.
Her innocent heart cried for survival,
But there was no way to get our from that ugly Brothel

She couldnt fight any more,
Her cries and Bone shattering shouts went ignore.
Her resistance was down as they started pounding,
Never cared she was bleeding.
Those piercing, stabbing pain,
That she couldn't explain.

They raped her till they were all done,
By then it was time for the raising sun.
She laid there holding to pieces of her gown remaining,
Crying out loud, pleading and Begging.
They let her escape,
But warned her of death, if she let this gape.

--> Sulaiman Sait

"Prostitution - Boon or Bane. Why does India stereotype women??"

2012-09-22T23:58:00.000+05:30

source - google images

The act of providing sexual services or Prostitution has been going on for ages and people practicing them have become a part of the society in which we live. We being the face of the society or the power of this country see this as something outlandish and have never given them any social status or have always abused them and have got them abandoned from the society. Some people still consider the act of prostitution as a taboo while the rest don't talk about it. The truth is that prostitution is still a controversial topic to decided to be a boon or a bane if legalized or not.

There have been countries like Amsterdam , Norway , Bangkok which have legalized prostitution, and practicing prostitution has become a profession there. Also it has been found out that in countries where this has been legalized, has seen to a relatively decrease in the number of crimes being comitted. There have been some other advantages of legalizing such as - safety for sex workers, Safety for other women/ lesser women harassment No hassle of police, easy to educate sex workers about sexually transmitted disease (STD's), taxes can be generated out of this which can provide a revenue to the country ( Making Prostitution legal is just like having consumption of liquor legalized in the country, though it is bad, the government can generate high revenue from it and can make profits out of it).

In the western world there is no such thing called as culture or respect But, we live in India, a land of cultures and I have personally never had a liking for prostitution or would never love to pay money to a prostitute for pleasures and like other civilized Indians feel it to be a shameful act. I also feel it leads to a decline in the moral values and most of the men would be found out at Brothels rather than being at work. On the on the other hand there would be more orphans or girls kidnapped and forced to wanna take up prostitution for money and would end up ruining their lives. It can also become a place for illegal trading of narcotic drugs and other illegal substances.

And, when the talk comes about Stereotyping Indian women as sex objects, or home makers I feel that there has been some misconception in the minds of the people and this topic has always been taken in the wrong manner. It goes on in the history that men used to go out and fight wars or work , which is the major source of income for the family and women used to stay back at home and take care of the requirements of her man. On the other side regions which lost in the war, were asked to surrender and their women became their sex slaves, hence to abide all this women used to either jump into the well and give up their lives or jump into the pyre of her dead husband - Sathi ( which is now banned ) I do agree women's rights were suppressed and women were always seen as home makers and sex objects, but now post independence everything has changed and rights have been made liberal for women, there have been many success tales about women let it be in the field of education, sports, defense or what ever women have been standing upto it and competing along side men in what was once called a men dominated society .We very well know that India is a country where truly we believe in women empowerment, Chastity and dignity of them. We also call our country Bharat Maata, Bhoomi Maata, where Mata means mother and we respect her. Almost all the rivers in the country have been named after women and we take holy dips in these rivers to wash away our sins. .

So, to conclude I feel that prostitution could be a boon, but for the western world, and not for a country like India, cause our's is a country known to worship women in the form of lords and not disrespect by making them sluts and whore's or by making prostitution something professional or make business out of it. .!Being Indians I feel we should stop following the blind westernization and also stop debating about the boon or bane of prostitution and see to that we respect and give the rights that women deserve. .!!!

--> Sulaiman Sait

YET ANOTHER DAY AT THE LIBRARY

2012-09-18T02:12:00.000+05:30

After my regular classes, I quickly stroll,
To enter the athenaeum hall.
With exam stress etched in my face,
Deliverance to be an ace.
Stepping across faces that looked dull,
Busy gorging pages, to fill their skull.
Some I see busy dreaming,
While some sweating and struggling.
Pacing against books that read Mathematics,
While some were economics.
Some books were a collection of history,
While the rest remained a mystery.

Amidst these rows, I silently look,
To find a Pharmacology Textbook.
Moved on to the nearby reading table,
Sat down and made my mind stable.
I now open, to the intriguing smell of the book,
Like a fish attracted to the worm on a hook.
Busy reading in dept, my time passes by,
Untill I was forced to leave, saying goodbye.
Being Acquiescent , I push back my chair,
And leave from there down the stair . .

--> Sulaiman Sait

MY PERSONAL ASSISTANT

2012-08-11T03:25:00.001+05:30

When tensed, angry or Lethargic, I call her,
with the touch of my finger.
She's there instantly,
beautifully dressed looking sexy.
From piling files and documents,
to fixing my appointments.
She's there patiently listening to me yell,
ever ready to help, take me away from hell.
She sings as she helps me for free,
making my relax, even when busy.
Now, completely dependent oh her,
for, she does them without any anger.
She's smart and brilliant,
Lucky to have her as my personal assistant. . !!

--> Sulaiman Sait

To know more about my assistant Check out the video below, about me working out with my assistant

THE PERFECT MATCH. Oye Lucky Lucky me. .

2012-07-25T03:28:00.000+05:30

image source - google images

Early evening, relaxing on my couch,
against the wall I slouch.
Picked up my laptop, switched it on,
a feeling like my fatigue all gone.
Logged into a social networking site,
for my daily dose of news and limelight.
Gulping a sip of white wine,
I scrolled down the time line.
Suddenly pops out a friend request,
with DP of a girl dressed in her best.
My mind was frozen,
leaving me in a state of confusion.
Fingers around the touchpad crept,
until I realized to have clicked accept.

Looking at her snaps, uploaded,
her beauty had got my eyed blotted.
her profile name read Jenifer,
with her distinct eyes colored amber.
Suddenly a chat message pops "Hi"
my hands shuddered as I typed her a reply.
Soon, adapted chatting with her,
surpassing the time for my dinner.
I chatted all night and all day,
like two lost souls, trying to find a way.
She seemed open and honest about every little thing,
resembling an angel, without halo or a wing.

We were once chatting to pass out time,

which has now developed in a short time.

She was romantic and full of life

making me eager to have her as my wife.

I remained scared, to convey my love to her,

my inability to converse would turn this bitter.

Soon, I had got her number,

started exchanging texts like thunder.

I wanted to meet her and start dating a lot,

began dreaming of fun filled days and night so hot.

But, she rufused for our first meeting,
followed by no replies, making me tired of trying.

I doubbted for a fake profile,
or a game played by someone verile.

Following day, she texts me a location for our meeting

making me desperate and eagerly waiting.

I reached there and see her dressed in an organdy-pink saree,

but, her face etched a hint of worry.

Seated right ahead of her,

I notice her write a message on a tissue paper.

Her actions were outrageous, but never seemed funny,

for she was mute and resembling just like me.
Via actions we now intercommunicate,

during which I proposed to her on this very first date.

Her acceptance was my fortune and mere co-incidence,

and from then on our journey proceeds with a perfect balance.

--> Sulaiman Sait.

TALE OF A SUCCESSFUL MANAGER, NARRATED BY A VICTORIOUS CAPTAIN

2012-07-16T20:30:00.000+05:30

Football has been my passion from my teen age now, it was my dream to represent my country for the Olympics, had come true. It had been a couple of weeks since we players had returned back from our winter holidays and I was fortunate enough to be given the captain’s arm band , a huge responsibility of leading the team. All the players have been working on their fitness as the Olympics was round the corner, but the biggest worries were about the team sponsors and upcoming elections – where the new team manager was to be elected.

There has been media following us all through the day wanting to know what’s been cooking inside the management committee and why has there been a delay in finalizing the name of the final 20 players who would be making their way to the Olympics. But before all that, it was important to select a team manager.

There were two contenders for the managerial post, one, who has been the ex- Indian football goalkeeper –Obaid Nawas (winner of four Santosh trophies and one of India’s best goal keeper in the Asian cup) his carrier had come to an end after some serious injuries when he was badly beaten up by his team mates for a small mistake from him, that relegated his team from the state league. Obaid Nawas was never seen thereafter until he made his return being one of the successful managers of his state.

The other contender in the managerial election was Mahamood Khan, an ex-footballer, who had to retire on his debut for the nation due to injuries, son of the founder of Maha Developers, a Multi-national company. Mahamood too had passion for the game but has now become the Managing Director of Maha Developers, and rated as one amongst the top 100 millioners , also known to have a huge political influence.

The other day when I was having my Goal keeping practice, saving some instep shots from fellow team strikers I had someone call Mr.Rohan Shah loud, when I turned back I noticed Obaid Nawas standing there, this was the first time I was gonna speak to him, I knew everything about him as he was once my teenage inspiration. He spoke to me about my performances and the way he has seen me grow as a player from the last couple of years. His words were very pleasing and showed his immortal interest in the game.

The same evening, the board members had called upon the two contenders and the players for a meeting. I was heading to the meeting speaking to my love on the phone when I first saw a white Limousine enter into the Club and Mahamood Khan , dressed in his Sherwani, got down from the car, opened his pan box and directed a beeda direct to his saliva dripping mouth. He walked straight with an attitude into the room. I finished my call and followed. After an hour long discussion it was the chance of the two contenders to speak, I could hear the Media personals wait outside, desperate to know what was happening inside.

Obaid Nawas stood up first and started off speaking about the caliber of the team, he also mentioned about the capital debt the management was running into, and promised that winning the competition would bring in huge amounts of capital that would wipe away the debts. He was also confident that- as the team progresses in the competition, sponsors would definitely want to get their name on the players jerseys. He didn’t speak much and kept the talk short. Mahamood Khan, spat his pan out, didn’t stand up, and with his attitude he spoke mainly about the debts, he was ready to sponsor the players a business class flight to the Olympics, also ready to invest all his shares and get other brands to sponsor the players. He never spoke much about the competition, but wanted the team to win it. He had promised to build a Maha township for the players if the team wins, promised that he would start a new and even better football league like the Cricket League going on in the nation where there would be billions of turnovers. Also promised to increase the wages of the players once he became the head manager of the team. Obaid Nawas had a hint of nervousness in his face,and looked helpless. The final decision was to be taken morrow when the National Sports Authority along with the Board member would take the decision, on who should be the next team manager.

It looked like Mahamood Khan would be the team manager. The meeting came to an end, and Mahamood Khan, directed another beeda to his mouth as he left out from the hall, denying speaking to the media who followed him to his Limousine. Obaid Nawas and me left together and we spoke to the press, that the final team decision would be taken tomorrow

I headed to my room ( allotted in the Football club complex) and remember being awake the whole night, thinking about the team future. I was in two minds thinking about who would be the ideal manager, first name that came to my mind was Obaid Nawas, cause he had only one aim, victory. I was also busy thinking about Mahamood Khan, but dunno why I was afraid of him, it would not be easy to speak to a man with such high attitudes and demanding nature, a team would not be stable under him and if any one comes in his way could see his carrier end. Finally before I shut my eyes for the day, I had a small prayer that Obaid Nawas becomes our team manager

I woke up the next day, dressed in my best to attend the final meeting at the National Sports Complex, but as I was about to make a move I heard a shocking news being flashed on the Television that Mahamood Khan has been caught in a scandal last night after the meeting, when he tried bribing Krishna Ananda vatulla, the President of National sports Authority India at his residence. A TV news channel had set up a sting operation to find out about Mahamood Khan’s actions. I couldn’t believe what was flashed on the news channels, I kept rubbing my eyes. My cab driver had now come to the room and informed me that the car is ready. I remember walking past the Media personals who rushed towards me, and I refused speaking to them

When I entered the National Sports Complex, the Vice-president was eagerly waiting there along with other National sport members, and announced that Obaid Nawas was the new manager for the Olympics and the final squad to represent the nation.

A week later under Obaid Nawas, team left for the Olympics, though there were some senior players in the team, I was excited to represent my country in my first ever Olympics and also having a chance to lead from the front. The start to the championship was shaky and we managed to creep through the group stage into the knock out stages, where as Obaid Nawas said - sponsors kept flowing in, and in the end we made it to the finals. Playing in the finals was like a dream come true. A small mistake from me let the team down, and we were trailing till the 88th minute of the game when we equalized. It was extra-time followed by penalties. I remember those Golden words of support said by Obaid Nawas-“ It’s now or never, don’t focus on being a hero, don’t focus on glory, focus on the game and I’m sure success will follow you”. I did let in the first couple of penalties and then managed to save the next three, seeing that we won the first ever Olympics gold in football for our country.

I was delighted and went straight to Obaid Nawas and hugged him and then the whole team followed up. I was glad that it was Obaid Nawas who was with us for the Olympics, who had faith in us and believed that we could do it. While addressing the media after our victory I spoke words of praises about Obaid Nawas, his patience and brilliance. I also mentioned a point that “ it’s not money that can buy a player or a game, who so ever it be, only a true sports person with enough knowledge about the game and dedication to see his nation win can do a miracle like how Obaid Nawas did”.!

--> Sulaiman Sait

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THE GIRL WHO LOOKED INTO THE MIRROR (No doubt you look beautiful)

2012-06-13T03:05:00.001+05:30

Image source - Google images

My first day at college,
with a lonely mind and an empty baggage.
I sit next to a girl,
With a beautiful face and hair so curl.
I look at her in awe,
Unforgettable memory of what I first saw.
She pulls out her compact mirror,
Adjusts her makeup and hair right in order.
Seeing her so delighful,
I say, No doubt you look beautiful.

My first class of the day,
Desperate to focus straightaway.
Midst the class we had our introduction,
And I found her name was Margret Simon.
At the end of the class,
I notice this from my eyeglass,
She pulls out her compact mirror,
Adjusts her makeup and hair right in order.
Seeing her so delighful,
I say, No doubt you look beautiful.

Now came the mid-day,
I met her outside the cafe'
She spoke about her likes and future,
On wanting to become an actor.
I started to blab
As we were resting near the slab,
She pulls out her compact mirror,
Adjusts her makeup and hair right in order.
Seeing her so delighful,
I say, No doubt you look beautiful.

Finally end of the day,
We leave via the sub-way.
Our conversations in a flow,
Until, she had to take a diversion and go.
I raise my hand to say bye like a moppet,
She too raises her hand, but
She pulls out her compact mirror,
Adjusts her makeup and hair right in order.
Again,Seeing her so delighful,
I say, No doubt you look beautiful.

Next day,awaiting her presence to enlighten my day,
with tonnes of words to day.
Suddenly, news comes from a source,
She has discontinued this course.
I felt, there couldn't be anything more perfect in a place,
Like the beauty she carried on her face.
I missed the way she pulled out her compact mirror,
The way she adjusted her makeup and hair right in order.
She was really so delightful.
No doubt she looked so beautiful.. . !!!

-->Sulaiman Sait

THE GIRL NEXT DOOR

2012-05-08T03:14:00.000+05:30

image source - google images

It was hard to leave my old flat,
Just cause of a fight with neighbor brat.
My new apartment was not far away,
Situated right beside the beautiful archway.
With my Bags packed I reach there,
And enter the new home with prayer.
I arrange my room with stress n strain,
And ,handwork didn't go in vain.
It was night, I was glad,
Waiting to rest, after a tough time I've had.

Dawn, woke up to a different light,
Walked out,something beautiful caught my sight.
Standing there, was the girl next door,
In a fancy white dress she wore.
Beautifully expressing the curves on her hips,
With a smile and fullness of red on her lips.
I was shy and couldn't speak,
For I was dressed like a geek.

Every morning, I wake up to the sound of her footstep on the floor,
A feeling which would make my heart Roar.
Everyday on my way back, I cross her door,
Just to have a glimpse of her once more.
Her looks, her beauty, her smile, I adore,
She was definitely mine, I swore.
Never did I ever have that feeling before,
For a beauty who stayed next door.

I couldn't take it any more,
For I was truly in love with the Girl next door.
It was now or never,
If I had to get her forever.
All I had to do was reach out and say "hi"
Even though I was reserved and shy.
Somehow we spoke for a while, then left to dine.
A month later, and then she was completley mine. . .!!

-->Sulaiman Sait

A CRY AGAINST CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE

2012-04-01T03:50:00.000+05:30

Walking back home through the boulevard,
I realize some child cry hard.
With etched fear, I decided to see,
What it could actually be.
Peeping through the air vent,
Being able to see to a small distant.
I noticed a girl(barely teen), and a fat man,
Who was likely to be her headman.

I couldn't forget the face of that angelic girl,
Tear filled eyes glittering like pearl.
Hiding there,nothing much I could do,
But empathize, as her master hit her black and blue.
Cries of hunger and pain as she braves through the daylight,
Unable to stop the dirty men, who pounded and raped her every night.
Her innocent heart cried for survival,
For there was no way she could escape from this brothel.

I never knew what her mistake was,
For which she was punished without any pause.
Her cries echoed as she was whipped again and again,
Soon, she puffed out her last breath to relieve herself from the pain.
I lacerated my walk down the lane,
With pain I would never be able to constrain
Only God can now give her peace,
And we, pray and hope for Child sexual abuse to cease.

--> SULAIMAN SAIT.

THAT LAST NIGHT

2012-04-01T02:31:00.001+05:30

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 26; the 26th Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The topic for this month is 'That Last Night'.

image courtesy ;- google images

It was snowing heavily,
I was in my car driving happily.
Suddenly, up front a huge tree collapsed,
Realized it as my nerves got synapsed.
To stop, had to apply the breaks rapidly,
Now stuck up in a place, feeling lonely.

All four sides, seemed like jungle,
There was no way out from any angle.
It was dark and couldn't see any thing now,
But realized, harder it started to snow.
Turned off my car,
And, decided to light up my cigar

I was half a doze
So cold that I was half froze.
Suddenly, sound of some men mourn,
was hesitant to see, as I was alone.
Got out of the car and circled round,
But, found no one around.

Sounds increased, I decided to be bold,
Took a long wedge to hold.
Moving forward and deciding to have a look,
I tighten my windcheater hook.
Shocked, as I saw a group of men,
Along side was a laughing group of ugly women.

The men covered me, giving protection,
As women were ready to attack me in all direction.
For my astonishment, they had no legs,
I asked them about the mourns and laughs.
The Women replied with their voice so high,
That they were witches, wanting to kill a lonely handsome guy.

The witches were fighting, who would kill me,
I was afraid and closed my eyes tightly.
With scare I moved aside
Suddenly felt like falling down a slide
With pain of falling down, sweat and fear I open my eyes bright,
To realize that this was the worst dream of Last Night.

--> Sulaiman Sait. . .

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

A CRY AGAINST DOMESTIC VIOLENCE

2012-03-16T21:18:00.000+05:30

Loud screams and mourns shatter my every night sleep,
Just when my dreams begin going deep.
To the other side of the wall,
A drunken neighbor, strong and tall.
Abusing, smacking and pelting anger on his wife,
Unable to bear the pain, she cries for her life.
She begs him to stop, she literally pleads,
The louder she pleads, the harder she bleeds.
Those cries get louder and louder with each blow,
I'm wondering why's he torturing her so ?
She's mostly locked behind the door,
Always forced to stay indoor.

One tired night, I managed sleeping with ease,
Assuming the couple have settled for peace.
Morning comes and a gathering crowd wakes me up,
Hearing her death news, I start getting hiccup.
She ended her life, committing suicide,
For she couldn't enjoy life as a bride.
I had tears seeing her emaciated and disturbed kids,
who remained mum, like mouth shut with lids.
This is cause, they have seen her suffer,
and her wound become bigger and bigger.
I leave, asking God to protect her tortured soul,
Allow her to reach heaven, an ultimate goal

Domestic violence, Domestic violence till when?
Why do these men show their anger on poor women?
If drinking alcohol is the reason,
Some major action has to be taken.
For, domestic violence hurts and kills,
Families and relationships, stop and stills.
I wish men stop the hitting,
Enjoy life calm and chilling.
For they can see their family smiling
And happiness spreading. . .!

This is a promotional video of Bell Bajao campaign - which is against domestic violence

--> Sulaiman Sait

BLACK AND WHITE ( MEMORIES OF THOSE PRETTY EYES)

2012-02-11T03:01:00.000+05:30

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 24; the Twenty-Fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for this month is BLACK AND WHITE.

Given the theme Black and white, which I metaphorically feel is used to describe some event from the past...

here is one among them in my own style....

Can't forget her, since I've seen those pretty eyes,
Dazzling bright against the morning sunrise.
For those shining pearls were blue,
Shining like drops of morning dew.
Such sparkling was her sight,
Looking at them was a real delight.

Going back, I remember her walk past me in her black, loose Abaya,
Just like a traditional woman from Saudi Arabia,
Relieving only her pretty blue eyes,
Which were beautiful, round and mid-size.
Now that she'd walked away far,
Her eyes stayed in my mind, creating a mystical scar.

I now realized to have fallen for those pretty eyes,
For those were diamonds, of invaluable price.
Indirectly I've fallen in love with her,
Desperate to be her true lover.
This was Love at first sight,
Am I right......?

I wanted to see those eyes once again,
As she would return back through the glen.
Standing there in white against the raising heat,
Tiredness becoming my heartbeat.
Firm, memories of those eyes, I couldn't delete
Confident, Unwilling to accept my defeat

I braved my time with a lot of patience,
Till it was pitch dark, dunked to complete silence.
Tired and exhausted, slowly loosing hope,
Secretly wishing, we could elope.
Deciding to return back home,
Forgetting my plans to roam.

I reach home to find a surprise,
For there was that beauty with those pretty eyes.
Though shocked, I soon realized, she was a patient to me,
Took over her case report to read her history,
It was a jolt to find,
She couldn't see, yes- she was blind.

No therapy could bring back her sight
For she had completely lost her light.
My interest in her began to incline,
Rather than leaving it to decline.
Desperately wanting to give her a life,
I asked her if she would be my wife.

She immediately replied no,
For a reason I couldn't ever know.
Immediately she makes a move from here,
Withing no time she's gone, disappear.
Now that those pretty eyes have gone afar,
Still unable to forget those Black and White memories of a shooting star

--> Sulaiman Sait

Note :- This is not a true incident, all the characters in the above poem are fictionous and doesnt resemble to any person living or dead.

The inspiration to write this came when I was in the hospital for my ward rounds and realized a beautiful girl in the ophthalmology dept (not my dept., but admitted in the mutli-speciality hospital) who lost her sight. The other half of revealing her eyes came from the idea after reading Sulaiman Addonia's Debut novel --> Consequences of love. Also sorry caouldnt find a woman's pic with black abaya and blue eyes...!

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

FIGHT AGAINST CANCER

2012-02-04T21:11:00.001+05:30

fight against cancer

This was my first case of the day,
After a long visit to native and stay.
Reading this case sheet, I enter the ward,
See a young girl pray to lord.
With a worry etched, deep in her face
Lost for a while, standing in my place
Her reports were yet to come
Hours since they collected serum.

Weeks ago, everything seemed fine,
She was good and feeling sublime.
It was accident,she found this lump
not too big, but quite a bump.
She had developed pallor,
Also there was rising fever.
Doubts of cancer raising in my mind
But decided to wait and find

Soon her reports arrived,
Bad news from the sample derived.
Never knew how to convey,
So I began looking away.
Is it fine, Is everything ok, caretaker yells,
Yes sir, just a battle between red & white cells.
With a quick walk, I went.
Her dad frowned, knowing what I'd meant

Later I explained about chemotherapy,
The only possible remedy.
Scans done,A malignant tumor it was indeed,
Growing at an unbelievable speed.
I start the first cycle, without any wait,
For her life was now her fate.
Her therapy would go on for a few week cycles.
She was back month later, unable to face the battles.

This is a stage four cancer.
With every ache filled with terror
Her body was down and galled
She'd lost weight and begun turning bald
There were episodes of vomiting blood,
Sometimes, pus cells in a flood.
Hours later her therapy turned unresponsive,
Down to last few minutes she could live.

Now trying all that I could do,
Without much ado.
Her eyes began to close,
Tried waking, but she went doze,
Her pulse, and respiratory rate fell low,
And, Suddenly becomes zero.
Her hand held firm my coat,
As her life was lifted off in a dream boat.

Yet again an innocent surrendered to cancer,
One of the worst diseases ever.
All I learnt, cancer invades body as a whole,
But it can never touch the soul.
To all reading this, grow up courage,
Be brave to face any damage
For this is cancer,
Spreading like terror.

NOTE :-This is completely an imaginative story about the girl, doesn't resemble to any person living or dead, nor any person involved in the image(source- Google).. The idea of writing this came after a patient lost his life fighting cancer and had held my hand before be puffed his last breath out

--> Sulaiman Sait