tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95343102012-01-23T05:53:53.413-08:00Uncensored. Unhindered.shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comBlogger94125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-5401382770941818762011-03-28T14:22:00.000-07:002011-12-07T05:15:15.562-08:002011-12-07T05:15:15.562-08:00I just got off a call with her. She had screwed with my head, completely, every second of the hour-long conversation. All the aspersions she cast! No matter how I looked at it; she was utterly incapable, incorrigibly immature to realize that she was responsible for me being heartburnt and heartbroken as well!<div>I didn't know what to do. With my eyes open, I was in a daze. Unconsciously, I picked up the remote in front of me and switched the idiot box on. Godd***** fate!! Of all songs that could have been playing, this had to be playing on. This fact and the sheer volume of the TV snapped me back into reality. Swiftly, I turned down the volume and started surfing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Subconsciously again, I entered into the role of the 'idiot box vagabond'.</div><div>But, I'm an indulgent vagabond! Three hours later, with three distinct memories boxing around in my mindscape, I wondered who was more wrong.....</div><div>----</div><div>(3 hours ago)</div><div>Channel VOI:</div><div>Guy: This joke is awesome! Look, the cat is showing it's middle finger! Hahahaha...</div><div>Lady: Oh darn it! You good for nothing idiot. This is simply not working out!</div><div>Guy: Honey! What are you saying?</div><div>Lady: Gosh! Now you can't even follow simple English? I want to break up with you!</div><div>Guy: Why? Why all of a sudden?</div><div>Lady: All of a sudden? You are gifted you to be dumb, aren't you?!</div><div>Guy: (in tears) What did I do wrong?</div><div>Lady: Wrong?!?!? What did you do right? It has been three years since our prom, since your first mistake! The day you came and proved that your IQ was as big as a peanut! Remember when you asked my dad if you could marry me?!! We were going for a bloody prom and you came in with a proposal!!</div><div>Guy: Is it my fault that I was in love with you since then?!</div><div>Lady: Love is great honey! You are a great lover! I'll give that much to you. Some use of all that gyming! But, why can't you use your head! Three years back, I had hoped that you'd change. You'd begin using your head!</div><div>Guy: Me trying to keep you happy pisses you off!!</div><div>Lady: For heaven's sake man, go buy a bloody head, a bloody mind, a bloody intellect!</div><div>Guy: What do you mean, get a bloody intellect?</div><div>Lady: This is what pissed me off! You like this sofa, Why, you have no clue?! You want to watch the game, Why, you have no clue?! You want to go to the movies, Why, you have no frigging clue!? You'll vote for him, Why, he looks good! You want to start a garage sale company, why, you think it is a brilliant idea! You want to do it that way, why, you saw it on the porno!!</div><div>Guy: You've always been like this!! Insulting my intellect, insulting my decisions, insulting my thoughts, insulting my ideas, insulting my opinions, insulting my intellect!!</div><div>Lady: You don't have a bloody intellect!!</div><div><br /></div><div>[Me] This is insane. How sissy can a guy get! But, isn't the lady wrong? Looking at his face, hearing the pain in his voice; it ain't difficult to see that his love has some substance. But, why does this lady ignore his love, violate his intelligence?!?! Is 'violation of intellect' pardonable in love? Is 'violation of intellect' pardonable in any relationship?</div><div>Subconsciously, the trigger went again and I was onto this other Channel.</div><div>--</div><div>(2 hours ago)</div><div>Channel VOB:</div><div>Co-ordinator: Thank you Sharon! Thank you for sharing your woes. I hope you are feeling better. I'd do the same if I were in your place.</div><div>(The group mumbles approval of Sharon's actions and claps in chorus)</div><div>Co-ordinator: Glad that we all agree. Now, dear (looking the lady next to Sharon), would you like to share something with us.</div><div>Lady: My name is Sujatha. I got married in India and he helped me get here. For the first two months, I felt like a princess from a fairy tale. Everything was so hunky-dory. He treated me so well. Then that night....I still remember, he said that he'd heard from his friends that this....this particular form of sex......was wonderful. At first I was horrified!! I heard from my friends that insertion into the behind is the most painful thing!!....He was husband, I was naive and we were in love. Yes! He was also in love with me. So, I was acquiescent. </div><div>It hurt. </div><div>But the love in his eye and the soothing magic in his voice pacified all my agony. I didn't realise that it was just the beginning. (Tears swell out of her eyes) Then he got some toys. There was only one reason I played along: LOVE.</div><div>But this was a form that left scars and marks on me. Scars that'll take a lifetime to heal. Marks that become part of my identity. So long as the 'love' marks could be hidden, it was okay. But, his lust took over him like a madness. Before I realised.......(Breaks down, sobbing)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px; "></span></div><div>(Group sighs together. Some of the women are in tears...)</div><div>Co-ordinator: Love is a powerful force and it makes us do almost everything. But some of us misuse the charm it can hold. At times, things might go too far. I don't want to press you into revealing anything....</div><div>Lady: (Trying to recover) Thanks. I'm feeling a little better. The worse part of it was, he'd make up for his monstrosities the next day. Flowers, 'I love yous', kisses....everything. The whole bargain. It was difficult for me to match the guy whom I saw in the night and whom I saw in the day. Infact one day he picked up a fight up a friend because he made a lewd comment at me. I was sure that he was in love with me. But his fantasies got wilder by the day. (Lifts her sleeves upto shoulder length. The gore remains of that lustful werewolf, sting the spectators eyes. Some of the women gasp in horror!) One day, I decided to stand up. I decided to reason. I knew my love could heard. But that night....that night....he re....re.........rapped me (Her cheeks are wet with tears)</div><div>Co-ordinator (in tears herself): He re....he........he really did that?</div><div>Lady: He loved me!</div><div>Co-ordinator (struggling to regain her composure): Even in love, is violation of the body permissible? Scars heals, marks can be covered; true. But, is the very violation of the integrity of the physical existence pardonable?</div><div><br /></div><div>[Me] All the titillation that was pumping blood to my organ; tided away with that last statement! I started thinking....how inhuman is rape, whether in love or not? For that matter, how inhuman is the violation of the body? Before I could dive deeper into this abyss, I realised that I had switched the channels again.</div><div>--</div><div>(One hour earlier)</div><div>Channel VOH:</div><div>Guy: Hey sweetheart. [Gives the red rose to her]</div><div>Lady: (With a thoroughly bored expression) Hi.</div><div>Guy: Hey, whats wrong? Why are you so dull?</div><div>Lady: Ahh...thanks for the rose. I need to tell something to you...there is no sweet way to do it...I'll just come straight....I'm done.</div><div>Guy: Huh?</div><div>Lady: I'm done with you.</div><div>Guy: What?</div><div>Lady: We are done. We are over. This is the last time I'm meeting you.</div><div>Guy: What happened? Why all of a sudden?</div><div>Lady: I got what I wanted. I have no more interest in you.</div><div>Guy: What? You got what you wanted? What the hell was that?</div><div>Lady: Access to the C-Suite.</div><div>Guy: What? Then, why this whole drama of liking me?</div><div>Lady: Think of it as courtesy. Think of it as politeness.</div><div>Guy: Why? Why did you have to play with my feelings, if all you wanted was to get access to them!!</div><div>Lady: Well, you can keep going on and on about it. Why are you behaving like we are a couple!</div><div>Guy: What! We aren't a couple? What about all the roses? What about all the night long conversations? What about all the kisses? What about all the love-you's?! What about all the plans for our marriage?? What about all those 'house-decking' conversations!?</div><div>Lady: C'mon. If you didn't think, we were a couple; I wouldn't have gotten what I wanted! Grow up. You aren't rich. You aren't the most good-looking. Neither are the most powerful. But you do have access to the most powerful in the organization. Thank you for inviting me to the dinner last week.</div><div>Guy: You could have thrown this darned bomb on last week itself.</div><div>Lady: I did. I was subtle. In retrospect, I think I shouldn't have been.</div><div>Guy: Darn it! You can't get away by playing with my emotions. Making me think that you are the sweetest angel on this planet. Letting me weave dreams around us. Driving me so crazy about you. Allowing me to bask in your fragrance!</div><div>Lady: Watch me!</div><div>With this she got up. Shouted out to the waiter, "Can you help me out! This guy here is harassing me!"</div><div><br /></div><div>[Me] What on earth! She just played him! Darn it! She should be stoned to death in a public square! How can anyone do that! Is this violation of the heart, permissible?</div><div><br /></div><div>-----</div><div><br /></div><div>The phone started ringing. I took the call, "Sorry. I'm so sorry!"</div><div>The anger in me started dispersing like the pollen in the gentle autumn breeze....</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-540138277094181876?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6Ot78uTyDhxpl20SgbTvhcHwbZI/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6Ot78uTyDhxpl20SgbTvhcHwbZI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6Ot78uTyDhxpl20SgbTvhcHwbZI/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6Ot78uTyDhxpl20SgbTvhcHwbZI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/Sp3hbqu9cFc" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2011/03/pardon-me-not.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-70522118511837371542010-07-31T12:34:00.000-07:002010-08-01T08:40:01.870-07:002010-08-01T08:40:01.870-07:00<div>Like everyday; she picked out the newspaper and settled down to read it. She got to the business segment and momentarily froze. In bold; written across the page was the headline <b>"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Shankar's small ideas hit big time</span>"</b></div><div><b></b>Memories from a distant lifetime started streaming back in...</div><div>--------------------</div><div>20 years ago</div><div>Sati: Hey ma! I'm going to Shankar's place. I want to play with him...</div><div>Sati's mom: You should play with girls of your age. Why don't you go to Geeta's house instead.</div><div>Sati: Oh mom. We all play together. Hey they are calling, I'm going.</div><div>With this she rushed out and jumped across the compound wall into Shankar's house.</div><div>Shankar: Good. The three of us have been waiting for you to begin 3D Ludo.</div><div>Sati: Oh Shankar, once again. Not those 3D games again. Why can't we play 'house house' again. It'll be sweet. I'll play the wife and you play husband...</div><div>Shankar: After my game sweetheart.</div><div>Sati: You always say that...</div><div>--------------------</div><div><br /></div><div>Sati brushed those thoughts away and started reading the report. </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">3D Games company 'Dimensionz' has hit big time. The opening IPO reception was completely unexpected. Experts at the dalal street are flabberghasted that a toys and games company could have such pull over investors. The owner of the company, Shankar has what it takes to become the next equity king. His opening speech had removed whatever few doubts that remained in the future of his company. Whether it is the company or his words that the investors trust; it is hard to say...</span></div><div>The pull of the thoughts in her head was too strong and she couldn't resist any longer....</div><div>--------------------</div><div><br /></div><div>15 years ago</div><div>Shankar: So, thats it Sati. Thats why I'm being sent off to boarding school.</div><div>Sati: But, Shankar!! Your father is in terrible shape already. The absence of your mom will kill him. If you leave too...</div><div>Shankar: He is the one who took the decision to send me there you know.</div><div>Sati: But, Shankar!! You are so good at convincing people. Why can't you talk him out of it. What will I do without you?</div><div>Shankar: Sweetheart. I'm only a child and so are you. I might be good at convincing people, but don't forget; he is my Dad! If I'm good at it, he is god at it. I've heard they got a swimming pool and swimming is a compulsory course at the school.</div><div>Sati: You will forget me. You'll meet new people. You'll forget me. You are starting a completely new life. You'll forget me.</div><div>Shankar: Oh Shaddup. I'll not forget you or Geeta or Chintu or any of you. You are all my friends.</div><div>Sati: That's what Madhav had told us two years back before going to boarding school remember.</div><div>Shankar: Hey yeah. Madhav is also there. I almost forgot!</div><div>Sati: You'll forget me...</div><div>Shankar: Oh dear. I'll write to you often. Okay?</div><div>Sati: Oh Shankar. I'll miss you..</div><div>--------------------</div><div><br /></div><div>Pushing the thoughts aside, she returned to her paper....</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Dimensionz had humble beginnings. Four years ago; armed with a MBA from IIM Lucknow, Shankar refused lucrative offers of placement on campus to start off on his own. He started with a meagre 5 lakhs to set-up his first manufacturing unit. With only his peers to help and his dreams to power him; he set out marketing 3D chess. He struggled like most others and would've abandoned his dreams if not for the Indian Chess Championships. A small module was introduced in the championships for 3D games and it ended up garnering more attention than the normal games. There was no looking back after that...</span></div><div>--------------------</div><div><br /></div><div>4 years ago</div><div>Shankar (over the phone): Hi Sati. I'm in town. Want to catch up?</div><div>Sati: Where have you been all these years? You said, you'd write. You never did.....</div><div>Shankar: I know dear. I never got the time. I was too caught up in my curriculum.</div><div>Sati: We are not children anymore.</div><div>Shankar: And that's what interests me even further.</div><div>Sati: I have a date with someone, Shankar.</div><div>Shankar: Wow. Nice. So, can't we meet up after that?</div><div>Sati: There is no looking back Shankar. I am committed to him.</div><div>--------------------</div><div><br /></div><div>[Newspaper Report]</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Shankar then released most of the known games in 3D format. It didn't take long for me-too companies to start manufacturing products like Dimensionz. Ready for this; Shankar had already started his gaming community.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">It works on a very simple basis. Every Dimensionz game board is loaded with an automatic system updater. Every individual playing on the board and winning can track their score online amongst the community of over a million-children. In summers; the 'Dimensionz zone' all-India championships then invites the top 10 children from every city for over a 100 variety of games. The children from all over India battle it out with the best across the country and parts of this are streamed online. Says Eashwar, VP Finance at Dimensionz; "When Shankar proposed this idea to all of us, we all laughed it out. To us, this was a one-time work and investment. We didn't realize that there was so much potential in things as simple as Snakes &amp; Ladders.</span></div><div>--------------------</div><div><br /></div><div>1 year ago</div><div>Sati: Hey dear, what is that you are reading.</div><div>Sati's husband: It is about a company by name Dimensionz. It makes those 3D games, you know. The owner Shankar is quite a charmer.</div><div>Sati: So what are you reading about?</div><div>Sati's husband: He has come to us. He wants us to work on the IPO. I don't believe he thinks investors will be interested in things like this.</div><div>Sati: Oh c'mon. You know the craze. Actually, I never believed in it either. But, look a the potential. People throng to those 'Dimensionz Zone' Championships.</div><div>Sati's husband: Hey I think there is an interview today. Lets listen to what he has to say.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">[On the television]</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Host: So, Mr. Shankar. The 3D gamer. Your games are a craze amongst children. So, how did this whole idea about games come about?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Shankar: I don't think it is the games that are a craze. I think it is the competition that gets them going. All of us are competitive by nature. The competition pool could be as small as the local community or the skool. But, by enlarging the competition pool; the competitive spirit is tempted. The whole idea was to give these ordinary games an extra-ordinary presence. I realized at the very beginning that merely making 3D games was not sustainable. So, we had to attach some service aspect to it. Put the competitive spirit and this service aspect together and bingo; you have a sustainable business model.</span></div><div>--------------------</div><div><br /></div><div>Sati folded the newspaper and realized that her dirty clothes had to be washed. She couldn't help smiling thinking of how big her Shankar had made by taking small ideas.</div><div><br /></div><div>3 years ago</div><div>Sati: Hey Shankar. This is Sati.</div><div>Shankar: That's a voice I'd recognize even if I were in another life.</div><div>Sati: Oh you flirt! We barely talk and you say such things.</div><div>Shankar: Hunee, I'm waiting to go in for the chess championships. Our company's games can hit big time if we get this thing right. So, if you don't mind; can I buzz you later.</div><div>Sati: You always say that, but you never call. Anyways, I am getting married.</div><div>Shankar: Wow, congrats. Babie. I need to rush. But, I'll call you in a short while. I want to know all the details....</div><div>Sati: Shankar, do you really believe that such small ideas of yours can hit big time?</div><div>Shankar: Babie, skepticism doesn't get anyone anywhere.</div><div>Sati: Foolish dreaming neither does...</div><div>The line went blank.</div><div>--------------------</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-7052211851183737154?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6Xx_psfjOKRebfISdsPn9aKhSFM/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6Xx_psfjOKRebfISdsPn9aKhSFM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6Xx_psfjOKRebfISdsPn9aKhSFM/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6Xx_psfjOKRebfISdsPn9aKhSFM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/FL5-nfQz1gI" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2010/07/small-to-big.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-76350923211894936682010-07-20T11:18:00.000-07:002010-07-20T12:13:09.452-07:002010-07-20T12:13:09.452-07:00She was at the wheel. Pure adrenaline was dancing on her face. She was wild and as it happens; on such long highways whenever they are just driving to neverland, she gets all kinds of ideas.<div><br /></div><div>Her: Why do you think Rohan left her?</div><div>Him: Rohan would be a better person to answer this honey. He is coming over next weekend.</div><div>Her: You men! What are you scared of telling me?</div><div>Him: Goddamnit! That's a speed-breaker. Its for you to break your speed.</div><div>[[Kicking harder on the accelerator, with mischief in her smile]]</div><div>Her: Shaddup. Now, tell me why do you THINK he left her?</div><div>Him: Well, I think he was not getting good enough sex...</div><div>Her: Ah! Can you men think of something elz?</div><div>Him: We can, if you women can listen. I THINK he was getting bored. And in any case, they aren't married yet.</div><div>Her: Will you get bored with me?</div><div>Him: The universe always has to revolve around you, shouldn't it?</div><div>Her: Hey look; the river. I'm stopping over.</div><div>Before he could voice his agreement. The brakes bring the speeding monster to an abrupt halt.</div><div><br /></div><div>Before he could voice his plan; the angel was out of the car.</div><div><br /></div><div>Spreading her arms; taking in the serenity, she beckons him with her eyes to come. To join in enjoying the moment. </div><div><br /></div><div>As it happens, happiness bubbled up to his eyes and his legs just started walking in her direction.</div><div><br /></div><div>Reaching the shore full of meadows, they halted in the moment. Embracing the announcing pleasantness as well as his treasure, her...</div><div>Him: Babie, I don't think I'll ever be bored of you.</div><div>Her: Why?</div><div>Him: Every action of yours, every part of you, every inch of you keeps me occupied.</div><div>Her: That's all I wanted to hear. I like my universe revolving around me.</div><div>Him: How about we shift the centre of gravity to me?</div><div>Her: Okay, so hows your friend from office?</div><div>Him: How about I talk about my sweetest friend and do...</div><div>The touch of her lips always aroused the animal in him. And her responding and accepting lips; urged the animal to seek more. </div><div><br /></div><div>After a few enchanting moments, glently pushing him away; she is about to say something when he... </div><div>Him: Honey, I know I want to get married to you.</div><div>[[Unable to control her blush]] Her: So; what's all this? Live-in?</div><div>Him: Holy Jeez. Yes, it is.</div><div>Her: Jeez? When did you turn christian?</div><div>Him: Holy Krishna. Alright?!!</div><div>Her: Shiva Shiva. I need a baby exactly like you.</div><div>Him: Then, what will you do to me?</div><div>Her: Discard.</div><div>Him: Nicest try. Forget the baby. Make do with me.</div><div>Her: Ain't I already.</div><div>With this before they knew; their lips were in touch with each other. Tongues touched like two fighting swords; exploring the potency of each other.</div><div><br /></div><div>That's when the phone buzzed.</div><div>Her: Wow. It is you sweetie from office.</div><div>Him: No, babie. Not sweetie. Mr. Papa from work. Boss calling.</div><div>Her: Yeah, yeah go on and indulge in your work; leaving me...leaving the urgency of this moment...</div><div>Him: Babe, just shaddup.</div><div><br /></div><div>While he got engaged in some fire-fighting with his 'Papa'; she turned towards the gushing waters. She tried remembering when was the last time she felt bliss. The realization drenched her like the inviting monsoon rains bringing in showers of joy. She turned around again and gazed into his eyes. His eyes locked with hers.</div><div>Him: That's it boss. In anycase boss; if you don't mind can we take this up tomorrow.</div><div><br /></div><div>And then after a few short courtesies; like a cupids' arrow had been shot through him, he leapt towards her.</div><div>Him: God babie. You know I should start working again; I really need to. I've taken it too damn easy.</div><div>Her: Yeah. Yeah. And I'm not important at all.</div><div>Him: Sweetheart. You know how screwed up I'm getting at work. U know it babie. Why can't you be supportive for awhile.</div><div>Her: My sweetheart is damn good. I know he'll catch up.</div><div><br /></div><div>With this she swung her arms around him.</div><div>Him: Babie. I also know your sweetheart is good. But in this cruel world; we need to keep proving it.</div><div>Her: What boring stuff you keep talking about. Lets buy that house. I really loved it. </div><div>And with this; imagination crept up onto her face and she started using her hands and eyes to begin describing her future abode, her heaven.</div><div>Her: In that living room, lets have purple colour. No pink. No no, purple. No. Wait, there'll be a sofa like the one we saw at HomeTown; the red coloured ones. And then there'll be the plasma TV in that north-easter corner. Also, one coffee table. We'll keep only Vogue on it. No boring educational stuff. Only leisure. Cream colour it would...</div><div>Him: Babie. Will you marry me?</div><div>He was down on one knee and he had produced that saffire ring gleaming in the gold...</div><div><br /></div><div>Million Magics from LOVE</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-7635092321189493668?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9DAsjVUAi3_OVd6-mIJwDROtA4c/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9DAsjVUAi3_OVd6-mIJwDROtA4c/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9DAsjVUAi3_OVd6-mIJwDROtA4c/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9DAsjVUAi3_OVd6-mIJwDROtA4c/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/oTfCKHel-10" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2010/07/mm-from-love-3.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-66011029619607154742010-06-15T08:28:00.000-07:002010-06-15T13:36:42.979-07:002010-06-15T13:36:42.979-07:00Him: Hey. Hi <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">sweetu</span>.<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: Hey. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Hiiiiiiiiiiii</span>. I was just about to call you.</span><br /><div>Him: Yeah right!! How was your afternoon?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: What happened? Why do you sound so....upset?</span></div><div>Him: HOW was your afternoon?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: The same as usual.</span></div><div>Him: Don't fucking lie to me. Where were you?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Bachcha</span>, what happened? Why are you behaving this way?</span></div><div>Him: Just bloody tell me. Where were you?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: Relax <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">babie</span>. Cool down.</span></div><div>Him: Just fucking tell me. You were with him, weren't you?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Ohh</span>...<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">bachcha</span>..... We still work at the same place; it is natural for us to bump into each other.</span></div><div>Him: Bumping into each other is one thing. Having lunch together is entirely another.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: (After a few seconds silence) Who told you we have lunch together? Did she call you? You still talk to her</span>?</div><div>Him: She cares for me. Unlike you. Having fucking lunch with him!!</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: Oh fuck you. Fuck your attitude. Why are you still talking to her? I thought it was all over. You promised me that it is all over</span>.</div><div>Him: Don't bloody divert. </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: You don't bloody divert.</span></div><div>Him: Screw you. <hangs up=""></hangs></div><div>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------</div><div><br /></div><div>By evening, his bitterness is dissolved and he decides to make up for his volcanic display of possessiveness. He cooks, lays the dinner and awaits her arrival, awaits the fragrance....</div><div>An hour passes by. He tries her number several times and is unable to connect to her. The lava of obsession begins to swirl within his inners and begins forming mirages in his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">mindscape</span>. Their afternoon lunch looms back into focus.</div><div>Another hour passes by. He is flustered imagining naughty things being done to her-by her lunch buddy.</div><div>The sound to keys getting into a lock's keyhole gets to his ears and kicking the door open, she walks in.</div><div><br /></div><div>Him: Hey look who's home! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Sweetu</span>! I thought you might have forgotten our address.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: Well, I tried. And I think I should too. Please suggest me something nice.</span></div><div>Him: Yeah right. Shoot someone with a bullet and then come and ask them 'How do I live?' </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: Just shut up. Whats this smell? Is it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">karela</span> fry?</span></div><div>Him: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Ohh</span>. Still not over your lunch is it?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: When we have charming men around, it is very difficult for us women not to be enchanted; albeit for a little while.</span></div><div>Him: Nice. Keep thinking about him. Don't disturb me.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: Good. Recoil into your own bloody 'zone of silence' with that 'I-m-b-l-o-o-d-y-m-e-d-i-t-a-t-i-n-g' look of yours.</span></div><div>Him: Whats with your legs? Are you wearing stockings or did you wax?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: Why don't you call your fucking ex and check out her legs?</span></div><div>Him: Just shut up! You think she called me up to bitch about you? She didn't. But good that she did. I'm not going to tolerate this fucking shit.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: You think I met him to have sex with him?</span></div><div>Him: Oh! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">sweetu</span> is sad! That part of the date didn't happen, is it?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: Wow, you are really interested on knowing what happened?</span></div><div>Him: (Kicking the beanbag in his way like he hated it the most in the world) Like stinking pigs I'm interested!</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: Oh yeah! Like horny dogs you better be! I got a call from him....</span><br /></div><div>Him: And you felt like butter melting on hot toast. And then you went mushy and said, "Honey. Lets have lunch..."</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: Cock-up and listen.</span></div><div>Him: Mind your fucking language.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: Just fucking shut up and listen.</span></div><div>Him: I said, mind your bloody....</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: Here. These are their names and numbers.</span></div><div>Him: What?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: These are the names and numbers of the contacts you've been desperately searching for. To initiate your sales pitches. He called me up to inform that he had this list and he wanted to hand it over. My friends are not immoral bitches like yours!! Calling up to bitch about me!! (with this she throws her purse away like it didn't have a make-up kit.</span></div><div>Him: Come here and notice the coffee table.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: I'm sure she would've told you all the details, even those that weren't there. And I'm sure you would've said, "Oh baby! Look how I'm suffering..."</span></div><div>Him: Just fucking come here and take a look...</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: Don't goddamn digress.</span></div><div>Him: Your ruby necklace is here.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: What?</span></div><div>Him: Here. This is it. The people who designed this happen to be her family jewelers. She was there today afternoon and he informed her that this piece is ready. She...</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: (with wild admiration scripted all over her face) Wow!! This is beautiful.</span></div><div>Him: She just called up to tell me to collect it. In matter of conversation, your lunch came up...</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: Wouldn't the jewelers call you up themselves? That bitch!! Looking for excuses to talk to you!</span></div><div>Him: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Pramod</span> had called me up and said that this list is ready. He was going to send it to me anyways. Your ex had no reason to become an intermediary!!</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: This does smell like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">karela</span> fry! (Walking towards the dining table) <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Ohh</span>....<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">bachcha</span>, you cooked for me?</span></div><div>Him: (Flashing his trademark smile) Well, I thought I should make up for today afternoon....</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: Honey, I love you.</span></div><div>Him: (Approaching her) I do too.(Running his forefinger over her skirt-exposed knee caps) You really waxed! </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); ">Her: (Flashing all her teeth) Well, I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">thought</span> I should make up for today afternoon....</span></div><div>Him: Oh <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">sweetu</span>, I love you.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Her: I do too baby.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>1 Million Magics from LOVE.</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-6601102961960715474?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/15hfoZGMHbgeUQ7xDuZ4r50qSko/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/15hfoZGMHbgeUQ7xDuZ4r50qSko/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/15hfoZGMHbgeUQ7xDuZ4r50qSko/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/15hfoZGMHbgeUQ7xDuZ4r50qSko/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/yG5KtQcVtRQ" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2010/06/1mm-from-love-2.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-15179041947712692712010-05-29T14:26:00.000-07:002010-05-29T15:02:07.665-07:002010-05-29T15:02:07.665-07:00For the sake of anonymous reference; let address 'em as 'BS', 'GA', 'the Gang' and 'A'.<br /><br />'BS' keeps teasing me about 'GA'.<br />'the Gang' thinks that I got hots for 'GA'.<br />'A' is now in the loop of primary circuit and knows about all these things.<br /><br />I've confessed openly in front of the 'the Gang' that I don't like 'GA'.<br />'GA' used to think that I got it jiggy with 'BS'<br />'A' hates the fact that I have given "BS' attention.<br /><br />'the Gang' used to tease me about 'GA'<br />'BS' knows how uncomfortable I am with 'the Gang'.<br />'A' is here to be.<br /><br />Gotta shift to town.<br />Gotta buy a car.<br />Gotta buy a house.<br />'A' will be with me shortly.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-1517904194771269271?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tEN5fzLImaKmezJ64-8QUdNh4OY/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tEN5fzLImaKmezJ64-8QUdNh4OY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tEN5fzLImaKmezJ64-8QUdNh4OY/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tEN5fzLImaKmezJ64-8QUdNh4OY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/OHcv--KuiGo" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2010/05/brownian-motion.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-66526556603798340522010-04-18T09:02:00.000-07:002010-04-18T12:25:10.810-07:002010-04-18T12:25:10.810-07:00BANISHED!<br /><br />This is not the first time it has happened. This is not the first person it has happened with.<br /><br />Like always; the cascade of events was the same:<br /><ul><li>That person and I are introduced to each other. We leave the first meeting with 'just about okay' sort of impressions.</li><li>After a while; that person and I begin 'collaborating' a little more closely.<br /></li><li>As it happens in the nature of collaboration; adversity comes and hits us as a pair. As it happens; I lower my personal guard and gates to my personal existence are wide open. That person may walk in innocently, unknowing or deliberately to soothe my troubled soul.</li><li>Once in, that person begins taking liberties that haven't been sanctioned (innocently or deliberately). I tolerate such unwelcome advances for the sake of friendship. This is where my 'self-respect begins eroding.</li><li>That person unaware of my emotional turmoil keeps taking liberties, unwarranted liberties: saying things that shouldn't be said, doing things that shouldn't be done and behaving in a manner which is not creditable. Of course; I am no saint. In the name of friendship; even I do take some liberties.</li><li>But the difference between that person and me taking liberties is the scale and magnitude. I cannot disrespect humans. My mother has groomed me quite well and I do know where to draw the line.</li><li>So far the story reads: that person is taking unnecessary liberties. I am suppressing the out roar of my self-respect and tolerating such advances in the name of friendship.</li><li>But, I have my breakpoints. At times that person may say things or do things or behave in a manner that is completely unacceptable to me. All their slights; all their snubs; all their insults and all their frivolities can be ignored; except those that are not acceptable to me.</li><li>Once that unacceptable thing is done, once the cut on my heart has been and once my faith has been violated ; I recoil back into my world. I close the gates of my life to that other person. I BANISH them from my existence.</li><li>And worse of it all; I don't even let them know why I would be behaving in such a bizarre manner.</li><li>So, at first they try to reconcile. I just don't talk.</li><li>Then they try a little harder; I start my rebuttal. After I've been scarred; I need my revenge. So, I might say things that shouldn't be said. I might do things that shouldn't be done. I might behave in a manner that is not creditable.<br /></li><li>This pisses that person off. That person is being nice to me and all that; instead of co-operating, I start hurting them.</li><li>Then, they reach their breakpoints.</li><li>So they stop talking to me. They stop interacting with me. So now, they BANISH me from their existence.</li></ul><br />This is not the first time it has happened. This is not the first person it has happened with.<br /><br />The last time it had happened; it had hurt me very very gravely. The emotional turmoil had wrecked my happiness. Friendship broken cannot be mended. I wept in my heart trying to answer the question, "Why can't that person understand? Why can't that person look at things my way?" I cursed my blood trying to think what that person might be up to; what we both would be up to if we were spending time together. I spent unending hours waiting for that person to come and say "Hey Shri, just tell me what went wrong...?"<br /><br />But then; the silence remains and the darkness grows. When I look back, I earnestly feel I could've have made it different. I honestly feel; may be self-respect is not as important as friendship. When the memory of that person surfaces back; there is an emotional pinch at my heart. And for a few mesmerized minutes I think: "Ahh....What could have been?..."<br /><br />In the near past, there has been one more person with whom the cascade of events was repeated. This time I don't want to think..."Ahh...what could have been?..."<br /><br />I will not be able to toast to my self respect; but I'll definitely be able toast to my friend.<br /><br />Dear diary, pray for me.<br /><br />Laugh, Love, Live<br />Shriesh.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-6652655660379834052?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Y7UCbiP5QA4117dOt7eBu05sIjQ/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Y7UCbiP5QA4117dOt7eBu05sIjQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Y7UCbiP5QA4117dOt7eBu05sIjQ/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Y7UCbiP5QA4117dOt7eBu05sIjQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/Zds3h1zn4W8" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2010/04/diary-entry-2.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-83787995723673011312010-04-18T08:54:00.000-07:002011-11-29T04:55:22.893-08:002011-11-29T04:55:22.893-08:00Goddamn Bitch!!<br />She lives in her own bloody fucking dreamworld.<br />Assumedly a stinking place; where thoughts are only cloudy never condensing.<br />Assumedly an uncouth place; where feelings are in only disarray,always!<br />Assumedly an uncomforting place; where tones of expression are never modulated.<br />Goddamn Fucking Bitch.<br /><br />Goddamn Bitch!!<br />She draws mundance inferences from her own damned reality.<br />Apparently foolish inferences; which can only hurt someone.<br />Apparently sexist inferences; for she rallies around people of her sex based on such inferences.<br />Goddamn Fucking Bitch.<br /><br />Goddamn Bitch!!<br />She behaves like she is unimpeachable princess of her neverland.<br />Evidently stupid!<br />Goddamn Fucking Bitch.<br /><br />Goddamn Bitch!!<br />Why can't the goddamn bitch stop fucking around?!<br />Goddamn Fucking Bitch.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-8378799572367301131?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XqcJ7LF5B4v4Q4_gjhSL-byW3XE/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XqcJ7LF5B4v4Q4_gjhSL-byW3XE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XqcJ7LF5B4v4Q4_gjhSL-byW3XE/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XqcJ7LF5B4v4Q4_gjhSL-byW3XE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/qLu0IKg5CPA" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2010/04/goddamn-bitch.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-21128753549740872332010-04-13T15:27:00.000-07:002010-04-13T16:04:01.327-07:002010-04-13T16:04:01.327-07:00.<br />My mornings begin only with the ring of your voice.<br />The clock in my day ticks only with the chime of your voice.<br />The sunset dances in my mind only to the tunes of your voice.<br />The melody of the night is cacophony as compared to the sweetness your voice.<br /><br />My summers are only as hot as your love.<br />The rains can pour down only as much happiness as your love.<br />The winters can chill the anger only as easily as your love.<br />The fragrance of the spring is pungent compared to the aroma of your love.<br /><br />All my hungers are satisfied in your nurturing embrace.<br />The heart keeps throbbing in your warm embrance.<br />The mind keeps thinking in your dynamic embrace.<br />The soul derives purpose only from your revitalizing embrace.<br /><br />All my fires are ignited only in your divine presence.<br />The thirst for water ends in your quenching presence.<br />The air breathes in life in your lively presence.<br />The earth is an arid desert without your prolific presence.<br /><br />P.S: This is only the beginning. No where close to poetry. But an attempt to describe my poetic emotions.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-2112875354974087233?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IaXkuQ09MUGJPn0DRHNi1h6hRwU/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IaXkuQ09MUGJPn0DRHNi1h6hRwU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IaXkuQ09MUGJPn0DRHNi1h6hRwU/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IaXkuQ09MUGJPn0DRHNi1h6hRwU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/t0BsCax-518" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2010/04/fourse-in-my-life.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-10892887252767713692010-02-22T12:10:00.000-08:002010-02-25T09:56:04.193-08:002010-02-25T09:56:04.193-08:001 MILLI METER FROM LOVE.<br />CATEGORY : FUCTION<br />---------------------------------------------------------------------<br />Dated: A guy's 24th birthday<br />Location: Don't want to disclose.<br />Company: Definitely won't disclose.<br />Time: 21:48<br /><br />My 24th birthday and I am all alone. I am in despair. Utter, hopeless, bottomless shit-lined pungent pitted despair.<br /><br />I did everything. I played by all the rules of the game.<br />I courted her. I flirted with her. I cared for her. I supported her. I pampered her. I heard all her woes. I shared all her happiness. I made her smile again. I did everything. I played by all the rules of the game.<br /><br />But, 1 mm. That's how close she let me. She let me only 1 mm close to love. Yes, Love.<br /><br />I was there. Almost there. I was ready to sign the deal for handing over my soul for all glorious eternity. Almost there.<br /><br />Goddamn it! She didn't wish me on my birthday!!<br /><br />Just 1 mm from LOVE. I failed. I failed by 1 mm.<br />---------------------------------------------------------------------<br />Location: Some local 'restaurant aani baar'<br />Company: Still won't disclose.<br />Time: 22:28<br /><br />Just 1 mm from LOVE.<br /><br />I did everything. I played by all the rules.<br />I tried my level best to be there for her whenever she required me. I even pardoned her when she wasn't there for me (which was like always).<br /><br />I walked beside her, never knowing that she wasn't walking next to me.<br />I caressed her, never knowing that my touch didn't reach her.<br /><br />She was shattered. I gathered all her pieces and put her back in one.<br /><br />And how did she pay me back? Kept me 1 mm away.<br /><br />Failure. Not acceptable. I had never failed earlier! This just wasn't acceptable.<br /><br />It was never my intention to hand over soul, to begin with. But the gravitating influence of LOVE pulls at all sorts of strings within you. It makes your inners reverberate with joy and makes them explode with passion. It has the power to hypnotize you. It has the power to swerve you from your chosen path.<br /><br />I was pretending, pretending to do everything for her 'coz I wanted something. Unfortunately, somewhere in the pretence; <span style="font-weight: bold;">I lost track of what was real and what was make belief. </span>That's when LOVE started its gravitating influence on me. Goddamn, cupid!<br /><br />1 mm away from LOVE. I was getting desperate by the minute. I decided that I would visit one of <span style="font-style: italic;">those </span>women.<br /><br />---------------------------------------------------------------------<br />Location: Outside that same 'restaurant aani baar'<br />Company: Still won't disclose.<br />Time: 23:08<br /><br />Goddamn Cupid!! Once mesmerized; I was being pulled in, ferociously, viciously. Funny thing about this black hole: you don't feel anger or agony when being pulled in. You actually feel ecstacy; orgasmic ecstacy.<br /><br />Once mesmerized; I stopped pretending. Miserably for me; she didn't notice it. She drew her judgements early on and was hell bent on not dissolving her inscrutable opinions.<br /><br />Yet my magic played onto her.<br />Maybe she was as hungry for caring as I was. Maybe she was just too confused and let herself flow with the stream. Maybe she was just dumb. Maybe, maybe she just happened to notice the change in my emotional integrity and sincerity towards her. Maybe she felt that this was getting real, evolving from the teenage peppermint love to something more tangible. Maybe, just maybe.<br />Whichever it was; she let me close to achieving my something.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">When I got close to achieving it; somehow the hunger disappeared. </span>May be that's why I didn't put up a fight. When I got close to achieving it; she realised that she couldn't do it to her heart; may be. <span style="font-weight: bold;">When I got close to achieving it; I realised that this wasn't what I actually wanted; may be.</span> When I got close to achieving it; she probably couldn't do it. May be she had a medical problem; may be.<br /><br />Whichever may be it is; I just got close to achieving it. <span style="font-style: italic;">I had to withdrew whence I was 1 mm away. </span><br /><br />Defeat. It stings.<br /><br />I got a number of one of <span style="font-style: italic;">those</span> women. I called up. I fixed it.<br />---------------------------------------------------------------------<br />Location: In a rick on my way to <span style="font-style: italic;">those</span> women<br />Company: None.<br />Time: 23:42<br /><br />Despair. Pitch black despair. I was desperately trying to cling onto something; anything. Defeat stings. Although things probably happened because we intended them to be like that; it still stung me.<br /><br />Once 1 mm away and not being allowed to taste it; all my pretences came back to me. All the beginnings, all the trappings came back to me. I remembered the primary objective of undertaking this journey. Fuck the love. Fuck the confusion. Fuck everything. I wanted the result for taking all the pain.<br /><br />Defeat. Failure. No, not acceptable. Not after the shitload I had to go through!!<br /><br />Where was my life headed?<br />Why hadn't I handed over my soul already to her? (why did I wait so long?)<br />How could I leave my heart unguarded?<br />How could I let myself lose?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span>The phone buzzed. I took the call. <span style="font-weight: bold;">"Happy birthday sweetu..."</span><br /><br />Despair started dissolving.....<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">LOVE. Her voice, the sweetness, the concern, the LOVE.</span><br /><br />It brought my mother into living memory. It brought my sister into living memory. It brought my father into living memory. It brought all the people who loved me into living memory.<br />LOVE. <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />I wasn't 1 mm away from LOVE.</span> I was already deep into it. It was already enveloping me in a veil of protection. I was there already. LOVE.<br /><br />If there was one thing that my sweetu would never want me to do; then it was going to <span style="font-style: italic;">those </span>women. The POWER of LOVE. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Just her voice pulled me out of despair. </span>Catapulted me out of Utter, hopeless, bottomless shit-lined pungent pitted despair. <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Just her voice. LOVE.<br /><br />Something strong within me reciprocated.</span><br /><br />Sense rushed into living memory.<br />If there was one thing that people who loved me would loathe seeing me do; then it was spending my birthday in that fashion.<br />If there was one thing that my mother would despise about me; then it was letting her down. My mother had groomed me well, she had taught me where and when to draw the line. I knew a line had to be drawn. I spoke to the rick driver and asked him to take me to my home.<br /><br />Once home; all the answers came rushing to my head with crystal clarity.<br /><br />Where was my life headed? -- I knew where I wanted it to head.<br />Why hadn't I handed over my soul already? -- I didn't have my soul with me, <span style="font-style: italic;">sweetu</span> had it.<br />How could I leave my heart unguarded? -- My heart was well guarded and well protected with <span style="font-style: italic;">sweetu.</span><br />How could I let myself lose? -- Without a heart, without a soul; <span style="font-style: italic;">without sweetu; </span>I could only lose.<br /><br />Once home, I decided. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Never again will I spend a birthday of mine alone.<br /><br /></span>Definitely not without love.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1 MILLION MAGICS FROM LOVE.</span><br /><br />---------------------------------------------------------------------<br />Laugh, Love, Live<br />The Original Shri<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-1089288725276771369?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FJCihDuxB8ERML53drJBmakMhFU/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FJCihDuxB8ERML53drJBmakMhFU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FJCihDuxB8ERML53drJBmakMhFU/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FJCihDuxB8ERML53drJBmakMhFU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/Y-3oR4WlXsw" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2010/02/1-mm-from-love.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-53953195024567771142010-01-28T08:07:00.000-08:002010-01-28T09:18:22.282-08:002010-01-28T09:18:22.282-08:00Note: This is purely a diary entry. You can read it; but it wont make much sense to you. If parts of it do make sense to you; then I'd hate to admit my vulnerability to you.<br /><br />Life.<br /><br />By goodness. I want to know how my parents were when they were of my age. May be things were not the same between now and then; but I am sure human emotions wouldn't have been dramatically different.<br /><br />I think, rather believe I; that got have I faculty of such emotions; my mother from. Emotions. Twisting and turning and bashing and bathing me stinging me, tossing me and whole set of verbs which connote some sort of dramatic movement. I can't help but feel elated when she sits next to me and we discuss things earnestly. I can't but feel joy on listening to her voice. I can't bear the thought that she is happy without me. I am annoyed at the thought that he is ditching me, betraying me and not guiding me. I loathe the feeling that he won't budge till I say sorry for his mistake. I cannot but feel. I cannot but emote. I cannot but be trapped in this web of emotion.<br /><br />I guess, rather believe I; that got have I this thinking prowess; my father from. Thoughts-zooming into space, thundering across my mindscape, taking me from this end of the universe to the other, traversing within my synapses; conjuring images full of magical power; and a whole of set of unearthly metaphors. I can't stop thinking why we strive so hard when we realise that there isn't much to gain. I can't stop brooding over the trivialty of our existence. I can't stop boarding that train to the future. I can't stop thinking. I just cannot switch my mind off.<br /><br />Why do I write? Why do I read? Why do I tolerate mediocrity around me? Why do I tolerate pathetic leadership? Why do I feel so gullible? Why do I feel so vulnerable? Why the sinosuidal curve of elation and sorrow; swinging me in a stationary wave?<br /><br />I realise that in this age; a million individuals around the world might be going through the same phases as me. I realise that my thoughts, my needs are not very exclusive. I realise that I am just ordinary.<br />Then, why don't I act like that?<br /><br />People at the workplace have formed opinions about me. I don't give a damn about it. I know I should, but I don't.<br /><br />A lady at my workplace is screwing up things for me. I know I should try to make up with her. But I wont.<br /><br />My leader is not guiding me properly. I don't feel safe with him. I don't trust him. I won't confide in him. I know I'll have to leave him for my own good. But I know I will not.<br /><br />My girl wants me back. I want to go back. But, I wont.<br /><br />Why the inaction, when it is needed the most? Why the paradox?<br /><br />Way too many questions. Way too little answers.<br /><br />Hitting mid-twenties. When the see-saw shall swing to the wrong side; probably I'd have answers. At least, I hope.<br /><br />Life.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-5395319502456777114?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZqOzmYa3c-Jy81BBPcFDRiNMTUw/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZqOzmYa3c-Jy81BBPcFDRiNMTUw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZqOzmYa3c-Jy81BBPcFDRiNMTUw/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZqOzmYa3c-Jy81BBPcFDRiNMTUw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/9qNwvcaOP0k" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2010/01/diary-entry-1.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-24958494826523910652010-01-12T11:21:00.000-08:002010-01-21T07:34:37.418-08:002010-01-21T07:34:37.418-08:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">Chapter 0.5 : Sex, Sense and the People</span><br />-------------------------------------------------------------------<br />1<br />Having received a warning from my boss a day earlier; I was keen on getting to office on time. But as old habits die hard; I ended up in front of office with barely a minute to go. I was just about to swipe my card in when I heard <span style="font-style: italic;">that sweet voice</span>. It the had the effect of <span style="font-style: italic;">singing sirens</span> on me. I stood transfixed. I was turning to face the direction of such sweetness when a voice ahead of me boomed in my ears, "So Niranjan. Finally managed to be time eh?!". I said, "Oh yes Boss! After that lecture yesterday...". "Swipe in already. Come take a look at this file." With this a crescent smile spread across his cheeks.<br />-------------------------------------------------------------------<br />2<br />We were sitting in our cafetaria and chatting away to glory even after our lunch had finished. We were discussing the controversy about the sexual harrassment of a particular lady that had taken the office by storm. <span style="font-style: italic;">Everybody was chipping in with their gossiping prowess. </span>I had already contributed to the GD and was a little relaxed just listening to my colleagues. When in my mindscape, <span style="font-style: italic;">a fragrance struck like a lightning bolt</span>. It was the first time I felt, "Dear God! Thank you for blessing me with a nose and such keen olfactory senses". That fragrance magically transported me to a utopian neverland. Just when I was turning my head, my colleague said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">Hey Eshwar; did you hear she is going public today?</span>"<br />-------------------------------------------------------------------<br />3<br />I was yawning away to glory sitting in that compulsory HR session on 'Management of Sexual Advances'. I wondered why on earth was my organization trying to be so progressive for an Indian soceity. I tried to recollect the last time one of my lady colleagues had made a sexual advance onto me. Even before an image could play in mind's eye; the sight in front of me arrested me in the moment. Onto the stage, she walked. All my desire had manifested itself into that divine form. She was a glorious piece of God's work and perhaps the best that <span style="font-style: italic;">my eyes had ever seen</span>....<br />-------------------------------------------------------------------<br />4<br />He had tasted the best wines in the world. He had tasted the greatest deserts ever prepared. He had tasted the most appetising edible mushrooms and fungi nature had to offer. He had tasted the best of the foods on the planet. <span style="font-style: italic;">But with her; he realised for the very first time the true power of gustation.</span> The sumptuous feeling that food could provide was no match to it. The thrilling sense of edible mushrooms and fungi appeared grey in front of it. The sweet of deserts would taste like salt in comparison to her. The intoxication of wine crumpled to pieces in front of her. She had tasted like the divinity topped with chocolate syrup. She tasted like the cosmic majesty spiced with Ecstasy. She tasted like....<br />-------------------------------------------------------------------<br />5<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Kamagni</span>, famous as the nymph in her college; was not new to the pleasures of touch. <span style="font-style: italic;">But his touch opened up the gateway to existence in a different dimension altogether.</span> Until his hand had explored certain parts of her body; she had never even realized that they had existed. In his touch; she felt like purring like a cub. In his touch; she felt the fresh drops of season's first rains. His touch enveloped her existence like a veil of satin. His touch...<br />--------------------------------<br />5<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">kamagni</span> had always chosen her partners. But with him; it was different. <span style="font-style: italic;">Being morally challenged and ethically challenged; she knew that she would climb the career ladder very fast.</span> She had accepted all ramifications of that. But his advances; somehow put her off track. But once in the comfort of a bed with him; she couldn't recollect any partner being that brilliant. She finally found what her soul was searching for. But, the day that he did that to her; all her dreams shattered. <span style="font-style: italic;">The lioness was hurt and she was going to come for blood.</span><br />-------------------------------------------------------------------<br />4<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">She tasted like the very elixir of lif</span>e. The last time he had felt like that about a woman; he had conquered her world and declared her to be his within the sanctity of matrimony. After all these years, after building his repute with delicate care, after having groomed his children on ideal virtues; there was no ruddy way on earth he could afford to be drowning in <span style="font-style: italic;">Kamagni's</span> magic. He was always an amorous idiot. He had numerous conquests that swirled his pride and several disasters which blunted his confidence. This was the first time it was going to be a combination of the two. He loved spending time with her but he had to put an end to it. <span style="font-style: italic;">He had to hurt the lioness.</span><br />-------------------------------------------------------------------<br />3<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">She was a glorious piece of God's work and perhaps the best that my eyes had ever seen.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">She was mastery of divine sculpturing skills.</span> She suspended me within between life and death and I was having trouble grasping everything she was saying...."<span style="font-style: italic;">... said.....could.....promoted....also... would introduce..............elite club...I....a newcomer and foolishly believed everything..."</span>. The sight of tears in her eyes made me stop swaying in the universal dance that she had condensed upon me. An eruption of anger made the blood in my veins boil. My friend sitting next to me was perhaps enchanted similarly and he resonated my thoughts, "Shit! Rudra! <span style="font-style: italic;">How can any man do that to her!?!?</span>"<br />-------------------------------------------------------------------<br />2<br />Just when I was turning my head, my colleague said, "Hey Eshwar; did you hear she is going public today?". I turned my head and <span style="font-style: italic;">Kamagni's</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> fragrance assaulted my senses immediately</span>. But something else crept up into my living memory and raw loathe sprinkled itself upon my senses. I turned to my colleague and said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">Bitch! Apparently she threatened him. </span>Niranjan<span style="font-style: italic;"> was telling me. You know how he is into the thick of it. Apparently she wanted him to marry her and stuff. How these bitches play with men's emotions?!?</span>"<br />-------------------------------------------------------------------<br />1<br />"Swipe in already. Come take a look at this file." With this a crescent smile spread across his cheeks. Niranjan's<span style="font-style: italic;"> boss, Mr. Basu </span>was only saying that to get his sub-ordinate out of his line of sight. <span style="font-style: italic;">The newcomer's voice had evidently reverberated within his </span>mindscape<span style="font-style: italic;"> spreading confetti all over. She looked like God's perfect gift to mankind. Her smell tantalized his olfactory senses.</span> He couldn't wait to <span style="font-style: italic;">taste her</span>...to <span style="font-style: italic;">touch her</span>....to do her. Being in his position, it wasn't very difficult to find out that <span style="font-style: italic;">she was Kamagni</span>; a newcomer, <span style="font-style: italic;">an ideal prey</span>.<br />-------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />P.S: A work of pure fiction. A clap is sounded only with BOTH hands.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-2495849482652391065?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/X1Ur7rDjogSmZJ13yrLV3VcyGXw/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/X1Ur7rDjogSmZJ13yrLV3VcyGXw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/X1Ur7rDjogSmZJ13yrLV3VcyGXw/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/X1Ur7rDjogSmZJ13yrLV3VcyGXw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/6Yc0q8Ta3-I" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2010/01/corporate-jungle-book_12.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-64140080324601998522010-01-06T10:09:00.000-08:002010-01-06T12:18:41.269-08:002010-01-06T12:18:41.269-08:00<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link style="font-family: arial;" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CSHRIES%7E1.PAB%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:relyonvml/> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><link style="font-family: arial;" rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CSHRIES%7E1.PAB%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"><link style="font-family: arial;" 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Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoPapDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; text-align:center;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:center; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;font-family:arial;" align="left">The Dated Memories</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">------------------------------------------------------------</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">My friend: "Dude, what happened to that bubbly, youthful, energetic Eshwar? Why do you look like your soul has been stolen?"<o:p> <br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">These words of my friends brought back memories buried so deep in my arid mindscape; that one would think that they were dinosaurs.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">------------------------------------------------------------</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Memory 1: Our first Date</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "Hi. Wonderful day, isn’t it?"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A.Nari: "Well, quite wonderful actually"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "It would be such a waste if we don’t do something in this wonderful evening"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A.Nari: "Don’t be so brutally honest"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "Excuse me?" A.Nari: "Never mind"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "Dear A.Nari; can I have the pleasure of your company for dinner?"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A.Nari: "Already? We have barely met". Not letting disappointment set into my face; she said "But like you said, it would be such a waste if we don’t do something in this wonderful evening</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">We went to Saute and <span style="font-style: italic;">a smirk stole itself onto my face </span>listening to the lyrics…”<span style="font-style: italic;">Hain tujhe bhi ijazat…karle tub hi mohabbat…</span>(Movie: Life…in a metro, Soundtrack: In dino)”. Unlike most first dates, we just didn’t seem to have any discomfort what so ever. It was evident within a few minutes that we were both experienced players. We spoke of this and that and them and those and thus and what-not! But, there is one part of the conversation that I’ll always cherish.....</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left"><o:p> </o:p>A.Nari: "We are nearly done. So, what do you think of me? Will we do this again?"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "I think I’ll like you immensely. I can see through that shell of yours. <i style="">You are an introvert who pretends to be an extrovert.</i> I like that. So Yes! Would you like to meet me again?"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A.Nari: "I like your frankness". This time she let disappointment trickle down onto my face before saying "Yes."</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">------------------------------------------------------------</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Memory 2 : Our Date 2</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left"><i style="">Masala Chai</i> was one of the places that had always caught my attention. Entering that place; the tune, “<span style="font-style: italic;">bechainiyaan hain…sasein rukhi hain…tanhaiyon main teri kamein hain….</span>(Movie: Jashn. Soundtrack: Dard-E-Tanhai)” jolted me. However, I let this omen pass by me without much thought. She came and her fragrance drizzled down upon my senses. As usual we spoke of this and that until that horrible moment; the one that stunned me into silence.The moment, when I was horrified beyond the world’s wits; noticing that pearl of water in her eye. <i style="">No, I couldn’t bear her crying.</i> Then she spoke of the recent tragedy in her life. After a while; due to my constant request she stopped sobbing and that’s when the discussion took a turn for the better.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A.Nari: "How can people be together in arranged marriages?"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "Well, if they are compatible, why not?"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A. Nari: "But, there might not be any love!"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "I think for a relationship to last; compatibility is more important than love."</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A.Nari: "With love comes compatibility. But, the vice versa is not necessary. Thus, for a relationship love is more essential."</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "Well said. But, I beg to differ. Without compatibility, love cannot last. Without love; compatibility can help you carry on. Love might give a chance for compatibility to be born. However, compatibility always helps love take birth."</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A.Nari: "Well said. <span style="font-style: italic;">But, I’ll still differ."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">With this she smiled. <i style="">That was one of my most inspiring moments of my life.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">------------------------------------------------------------</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Memory 3:</span> <br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">That night I remember having a dream where my reflection from the mirror debated with me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Reflection: 'Hey dude, I didn’t expect I would ever see you in this state. And that too for her!'</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: 'What are you talking about?'</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Reflection: 'C’mon, <span style="font-style: italic;">you can never kid your own reflection pal! </span>I’ve noticed the sunflowers dancing with the butterflies in your imagination whenever she is around'</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: 'Well, okaaaay. If you insist.'</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Reflection: 'Oh yes I insist! But why her dude? I mean, c’mon she ain’t Miss Universe or something. Even if you left her or got rid of her; you’d always have the chance of meeting someone better!'</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: 'Maybe this time; <span style="font-style: italic;">I don’t want to take that chance!'</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">------------------------------------------------------------</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Memory 4: Our Date 3</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A.Nari: "Why don’t you and your pals come down to Ice N Spice. It used to be pretty awesome at a time."</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "Well, youth is all about experimentation. We’ll be there in half an hour"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Once we were there; I ordered a round of tequilas and dared her to have one. That’s when I discovered one more awesome thing about her – <i style="">the inquisitively reluctant experimenter</i>. After two more drinks; I decided to go for the kill.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "So, what do you think of you and me?"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A. Nari: "What about you and me?"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "I’d say we hit it pretty well together, I mean gel really well. And that chap simply doesn’t deserve someone like you."</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A.Nari: "Well, that chap is the past now."</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">That’s when things started spicing up out there. ”<span style="font-style: italic;">I know you want me…you know I want you….</span>(Artist: Pitbull. Song: I know you want me)” was tearing apart the speakers. Our conversation was lost in the teenagers drooling onto the dance floor shaking this and that.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">------------------------------------------------------------</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Memory 5: Our Date 4</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">It was her birthday. She had a glow on her face which I never saw anyone sport. I was humming...."Lets have some fun.....this beat is sick...I wanna have fun in a disco stick....(Artist: Lady Gaga. Song:Love Games)" when she broke my reverie.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A.Nari: "So, have you finalized your new-year plans?"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "You haven’t accepted my invitation as yet! How can I finalize ‘em?"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A.Nari: "Well; do you even require an answer?"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "Well, an answer would definitely make me happier."</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A.Nari: "Don’t act like a stupid kid. After all this time together; you still want my answer! Like you don’t know yet."</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "<span style="font-style: italic;">Acting smart is my part, not yours! </span>Just come out straight and give me a plain answer."</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A.Nari: "Me; acting smart? <span style="font-style: italic;">Maybe, you’ve infected me a bit too much."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: Alright, so once again. Would you like to kiss the new-year in with me?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left"><span style="font-style: italic;">Her face lit up like a thousand fireworks cracking out at once.</span> <br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">------------------------------------------------------------</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Memory 6:</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Not being a morning person; I decided to blast the person ringing the doorbell at 8 in the morning. I opened to find my housemaid at the door. The house was not cleaned for three days. The maid got spared. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">I went to settle back in my torpor when I heard my laptop playing “<span style="font-style: italic;">....kind of funny how life can change…Can flip 180 in a matter of days….</span>(Artist: Blue. Song: One love)”. A transient moment of happines was abruptly put to end with the doorbell yet again. Fumes were coming out of my ears and this time no matter what, I was going to pour down divine vengeance on the intruder.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left"><o:p> </o:p>The moment I opened a door; <span style="font-style: italic;">all the hatred in the world suddenly dissolved. All the love in the world was bubbling into my heart. </span>There she was with the <i style="">glow of innocent effervescence</i> and I couldn’t help but think “Wow! Now, this is a GOOD MORNING!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">------------------------------------------------------------</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Memory 7:</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">I wasn’t feeling upto it. I had developed cold feet thousand times already in the last one hour. I couldn’t. No, I couldn’t do it. But, I had too. I had mulled over it a zillion times already. I was sitting in Saute where the song…”<span style="font-style: italic;">I walk this empty street on the boulevard of broken dreams….</span>(Artist: Green Day. Song: Boulevard of Broken Dreams)”. She walked in briskly and settled down beside me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A.Nari: "Why do you look so out of colour? Anyway, today at office…"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">So typical of her; just going on and on about herself….<i style="">like I am just a shrink.</i> The annoyance gave me courage.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "A.Nari; I’m sorry. But this cannot continue."</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">The look on her face still confuses me. I don’t know the right word to use for it. It was betrayal, shock, agony, annoyance, loathe all packed into one.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">A.Nari: "What?"</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "I don’t want to hurt you. But if this continues; I see myself hurting you sometime. Hurt you, brutally, irrecoverably. I cant do that to you. I’m sorrie."</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Sound realized that it had no business between us at that moment. Someone was true, silence IS golden.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: "It is not like I am leaving you. I’ll be there in your life; just not in the capacity that you want me to be."</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">------------------------------------------------------------</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Memory 8:</span> <br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">I was sitting in my favourite dance bar oogling at my favourite girl. A wannabe singer was trying to sing"<span style="font-style: italic;">…preet ki rath mohe aisi laagi….ho gayi main mathwari…bal bal chahoon apne piya ko…</span>(Artist: Kailash Kher. Song: Teri Deewani)<span style="font-style: italic;">”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">I don’t know if it was the song or the voice or the alcohol; but those words penetrated my heart. Tears were trickling down and I was sitting there thinking if I had committed <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">the biggest mistake of my life by letting go of her?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">------------------------------------------------------------</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">My friend: Dude, stop dreaming!!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left">Eshwar: Pal; that <i style="font-weight: bold;">mate</i> stole my <i style="font-weight: bold;">soul</i>!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;" align="left"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;" align="left">P.S: How many such ArdhNari,Eshwar stories have you heard?</p> <div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-6414008032460199852?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GNiuI0kiE5NX44Q9_7yXCgbHVl8/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GNiuI0kiE5NX44Q9_7yXCgbHVl8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GNiuI0kiE5NX44Q9_7yXCgbHVl8/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GNiuI0kiE5NX44Q9_7yXCgbHVl8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/LUeVcNXKSCU" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2010/01/dated-memories.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-34410506451375074352010-01-03T02:55:00.000-08:002010-01-03T11:34:08.492-08:002010-01-03T11:34:08.492-08:00<div style="text-align: left;">Shriesh - A Prisoner in Azkaban<br /><br />I still remember sitting; with my hands cuffed in that steel chair with all eyes of the Wizengamot on me. A ragged memory…<span style="font-style: italic;">the cold that penetrated my spine….the chill that enveloped my existence…sapping all happiness out of me…still haunts my mindscape</span>. That angry look on those old faces; the twisted wrinkles wrinkling even further when my charges were declared - <span style="font-weight: bold;">the crime of attempting to break one of the most ancient; most powerful; most bewitching of magics known to wizardkind....</span><br /><br />Has it already been almost 20 years since then?<br /><br />The tattered memories of my past identity still stab at the remnants of my conscience...the swift and angry desertion of my friends...the agony in the heart of my master...the stain of disappointment in my sister's eyes...the look of horror on my mother's face...the trace of shame in my father's demeanor...the shock of betrayal on her face...the torturing despair of my heart burning...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The swift and angry desertion of my friends at the display of weak parts of my character...the swift and angry desertion of my friends at my shameless betrayal and insult of their friendship...the swift and angry desertion of my friends at my adamancy and ego...the swift and angry desertion of my friends when they saw my own family loathe me...the swift and angry desertion of my friends when I befriended </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">her</span><span style="font-style: italic;">...the swift and angry desertion of my friends when they realized that I aimed at breaking </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">The sacred charm</span><span style="font-style: italic;">...</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">That swift and angry desertion of my friends...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The agony in the heart of my master when I let down his confidence and displayed my incompetence...the agony in the heart of my master when he saw his chosen pupil stray down the path of infamy...the agony in the heart of my master when he realized that his greatest mistake in life was me...the agony in the heart of my master when he failed to groom me to become a good family person...the agony in the heart of my master when I decided to walk beside </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">her </span><span style="font-style: italic;">for the rest of my life...the agony in the heart of my master when he saw me fail at attempting to break </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">The sacred charm</span><span style="font-style: italic;">...</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">That agony in the heart of my master...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The stain of disappointment in my sister’s eyes when I declined to buy her the bewitched jewels...the stain of disappointment in my sister’s eyes on my refusal to make it to her special day...the stain of disappointment in my sister’s eyes when I wouldn't stand by her side...the stain of disappointment in my sister’s eyes when her friends ridiculed her for my behavior...the stain of disappointment in my sister’s eyes when she </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">her</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> as my choice...the stain of disappointment in my sister’s eyes when I went to break </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">The sacred charm<span style="font-style: italic;">...</span></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">That stain of disappointment in my sister’s eyes...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The look of horror on mother’s face when she realized that her son had become an utterly hopeless destitute...the look </span><span style="font-style: italic;">of horror on </span><span style="font-style: italic;">my mother’s face when she saw my friends zooming past me with accolades that I deserved...the look </span><span style="font-style: italic;">of horror </span><span style="font-style: italic;">on mother’s face when her son staggered despite his Himalayan capabilities...the look </span><span style="font-style: italic;">of horror </span><span style="font-style: italic;">on my mother’s face when her friends taunted her at my failures...the look </span><span style="font-style: italic;">of horror </span><span style="font-style: italic;">on my mother’s face when I first mentioned </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">her</span><span style="font-style: italic;">...the look </span><span style="font-style: italic;">of horror </span><span style="font-style: italic;">on my mother’s face when she realized that I had attempted at breaking </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">The sacred charm</span><span style="font-style: italic;">…</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">That look of horror on my mother’s face…</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The trace of shame in my father's demeanor when I chose not to walk the path of his desire...the trace of shame in my father's demeanor when he saw his hopelessly miserable son swerving into the path of darkness...the trace of shame in my father's demeanor when I splintered my family with disgraceful deeds...the trace of shame in my father's demeanor when his dearest friends made a mockery of me... the trace of shame in my father's demeanor on me choosing </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">her</span><span style="font-style: italic;">...the trace of shame in my father's demeanor when I attempted to break </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">The sacred charm</span><span style="font-style: italic;">...</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">That trace of shame in my father’s demeanor…</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The shock of betrayal on <span style="font-weight: bold;">her</span> face when her choice failed pathetically....the shock of betrayal on </span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">her</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"> face when she saw the veracity of my claims....the shock of betrayal on </span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">her</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"> face when I disrespected everything she loved...the shock of betrayal on </span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">her</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"> face when she saw my true, cunning and manipulative self...the shock of betrayal on </span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">her</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"> face when I decided to leave behind all the world...the shock of betrayal on </span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">her</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"> face at the moment when I resolved to break </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">The sacred charm</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> of ‘Love’....</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">That shock of betrayal on </span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">her</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"> face</span><span style="font-style: italic;">...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The torturing despair of my heart burning at the swift and angry desertion of my friends...</span><span style="font-style: italic;">the torturing despair of my heart burning at the agony in the heart of my master...</span><span style="font-style: italic;">the torturing despair of my heart burning at that stain of disappointment in my sister's eyes...</span><span style="font-style: italic;">the torturing despair of my heart burning at that look of horror on my mother's face...the torturing despair of my heart burning at that trace of shame in my father's demeanor............the torturing despair of my heart burning at the shock of betrayal on her face....</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">That torturing despair of my heart burning....</span><br /><br />I am ready for the Dementor’s kiss. Come; take me. I am not worth space I occupy.<br />[As the dementors were approaching their needy victim; a shrill shout could be heard]<br /><br />Did I just hear “EXPECTO PATRONUM”??<br /><br />“Hey Shriesh; come lets escape….” and then <span style="font-weight: bold;">she</span> embraced me back into life with <span style="font-weight: bold;">The sacred charm</span>.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-3441050645137507435?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ppVqKHjyK6lxNS-g4U2m4czbnF4/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ppVqKHjyK6lxNS-g4U2m4czbnF4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ppVqKHjyK6lxNS-g4U2m4czbnF4/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ppVqKHjyK6lxNS-g4U2m4czbnF4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/CANNSjC5ffY" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2010/01/shriesh-prisoner-in-azkaban.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-65224899525397582592009-07-30T12:06:00.000-07:002009-07-30T12:59:39.568-07:002009-07-30T12:59:39.568-07:00Dear CCC,<br /><br />Every minute, I keep thinking about you: What are you upto?, What you must be doing?, What must be going on around you?, How you might be reacting?, What expressions those eyes are communicating?, How wide your smile is?; Are you thinking about me too?<br />The reality of the answer to the last question startles me; makes me weep within myself. Then I resolve to put you out of my head.<br /><br />I try to indulge in the rumdum of day to day activities, try to immerse myself in the mundaneness of everyday life.<br /><br />But a minute later, it ALL begins again.<br /><br />I dont know why so suddenly you have come and shred my mindscape into pieces. I was not thinking so intensely about you earlier. But nowadays, ALL i ever do is think about you.<br /><br />I long to hear your voice. I long to read your sms-es at least. I long to see you. I long to drench myself in your charm. I long to transcend into that magical neverland that your presence creates for me. I long to spend those lovely lost moments with you again.<br /><br />Holy goodness!! Why didnt you leave me when I tried to lock you out so vigorously and vehemently out of my head? Why did I still find you lingering out there when I decided to reopen the synaptic gates again?<br /><br />I know I screwed it up quite badly with you. I acted out of character so often. You might be telling your friends(boyfriend/agony uncles): "He was mad. He was crazy. He was so madly possessive. I thought that he would hurt me or himself in the process..."<br /><br />I behaved so immaturely so many times. I couldn't impress your parents. I couldn't impress your sister. I couldn't impress your family. I couldn't impress your friends. Perhaps, I couldn't impress YOU.<br /><br />When you were with me, I treated you like shit.<br /><br />Knowing all these things pretty well, I still long for you to come back to me. I know, it wont happen. I keep telling myself that I have to resign myself to this fate. But the goddamned stupid thing called heart, just doesn't want to listen to any of this. Now that I know that I feel so intensely for you, I realise how futile it is to try to reckon you back into my life. Because, I very vividly remember you telling me "I love him." Now that I know what love feels like, I realise fully well that I wouldn't create even so much as a dent in your mindscape with my most arduous efforts.<br /><br />I intend to change several facets of my lifestyle. For I believe that in the long run these would help me to get me where I want to be. These are the things that you tried to change in our lovely times together. I want to share those things with you because I feel that these would make you happy. But even that, I doubt now. I don't think that you even consider me worthy of any attention.<br /><br />But then, one more thing pops into attention. You were the one who tried to maintain contact with me tolerating my continuing shitty attitude. That consoling feeling of realising that you do think of me from time to time soothes my soul. But even this feeling vaporises immediately the minute I realise that you talk to all your friends atleast once every month. From a prospective life partner, I got demoted to just another guy in your life.Ouch! That hurts. That stings. The pain. The agony. Ouch!<br /><br />I keep thinking of coming face to face with you. I actually keep dreaming about it. But whenever I'm at work I try to hide myself as hard as I possibly can. I am afraid that on the very sight of you, I might do something I consider impossible for myself: I might end up crying.<br /><br />I know what you can offer to me. I know that it is a foolish mixture of pity, gratitude, friendship and appreciation. But it is not love. It is an annoying combination of understanding, pampering and support. But it is not love. It is a disturbing blend of faith and trust. But it is not love. It is an unexplainable bond But it is not love.<br /><br />But it is not love.<br /><br />No, I dont want it.<br /><br />Such intensity in feeling has tided over me earlier also. But this time, I can't shrug off the feeling that it is different. May be this is the closest I have gotten to true love. Or maybe it is true love.<br /><br />True Love,<br />BBB.<br /><br />***************************************************************<br /><br />Dearest Baby,<br /><br />I've been a little down and out these days....actually a lot down and out of mind...I am not the same person you started to....chirpy and bindaas as you refer to it. But I think, I am growing up.<br /><br />What I want you to know is that there is no need to hold onto something that you feel is not working rather there's more harm in staying a situation that you are not happy in. No matter how I much try, this is not going to work for you.<br /><br />What you said yesterday was the last thing I wanted to hear after having given my 100%. I realize that you dont need me anymore. Someone who is mature, slim, intelligent, hot and there in the vicinity would do...keep your search engines on.<br /><br />I am sorry for everything that pissed you.<br /><br />I am writing this 'coz I've always wanted you to be happy (dont even have an ioata of a doubt about it) and also cant live with routine of breakup-patchup-breakup. I know you do love me a lot but I want you to be sure about it. Your education, family and all other material things juss dont matter to me. All I need is your love.''I've always been very (no words to describe this very) happy with you. Will always cherish everything we've had together.<br /><br />I'll miss you like mads. You'll always be my baby.<br /><br />I wish I could have given you the ability of seeing us through my eyes.<br /><br />True Love,<br />AAA.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-6522489952539758259?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-1irqAdVVXwbAQzzogq6JTiVJX4/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-1irqAdVVXwbAQzzogq6JTiVJX4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-1irqAdVVXwbAQzzogq6JTiVJX4/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-1irqAdVVXwbAQzzogq6JTiVJX4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/GccrWbKg8cA" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2009/07/letter-to-my-beloved.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-68444850032137831352009-07-17T12:23:00.001-07:002009-07-17T12:42:36.797-07:002009-07-17T12:42:36.797-07:00<center> FUNERALS </center><br />An important gap between 'before them’ and 'after them’ during which loved ones, dear ones, near ones and foes congregate.<br />An interval when flux of synaptic activity keep short circuiting at several ends.<br />A period for reflections of various facets of one’s personality.<br />A culmination of life time of emotions and sentiments when history itself rewinds.<br /><br />Funerals – An important gap between before ‘them’ and after ‘them’ during which loved ones, dear ones, near ones and foes congregate.<br /><blockquote> To offer their strength to bereaved and share their loss. To bow heads in silence to the achievements of ‘those’. To voice their opinions in regret on the lost oppurtunities in ‘their’ life. To mark the passing of an important character in their trivial existence. </blockquote><br /><br />Funerals – An interval when flux of synaptic activity keep short circuiting at several ends. <br /><blockquote> A time when several emotions are elicited each dragging the mind in a separate direction. A time when a zillion thoughts pulverize the thinking into hardened rubber. A time when judgement on the days gone by are passed hurriedly.A time when snap decisions are made freezing the course of future. </blockquote><br /><br />Funerals – A period for reflections of various facets of one’s personality. <br /><blockquote> A time to look into one’s own morality. A time to think about one’s own deeds. A time to reconsider all that is done. A time to ponder about the future. </blockquote><br /><br />Funerals – A culmination of life time of emotions and sentiments when history itself rewinds. <br /><blockquote> When the love cries itself away to neverland. When the respect emerges from the deep waters. When hatred vanishes into thin air, if only for a few short moments. When envy incarcenates itself into anonymity, if only for a few short moments. </blockquote><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-6844485003213783135?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/e8Hmx1h0l-fnWdut52fALmCmGsM/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/e8Hmx1h0l-fnWdut52fALmCmGsM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/e8Hmx1h0l-fnWdut52fALmCmGsM/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/e8Hmx1h0l-fnWdut52fALmCmGsM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/0G74DxT4Ayo" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2009/07/funerals.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-38632683321371455922009-05-11T11:52:00.000-07:002009-05-11T12:10:10.660-07:002009-05-11T12:10:10.660-07:00Its been long since I sat down and refined my thoughts by practising one of the most sacred arts: The art of writing.<br /><br />I still remember those days when I used to sit up for hours together, go to answers.com and thesaurus.com; learn new words and cook up short stories.<br /><br />I now intend to pick up this habit again.<br /><br />I think it would be good for me.<br /><br />When I try to recollect what really hindered me, I think it was IIM Lucknow. When I think further, I think it was IIM.<br /><br />After an IIT, an IIM is a downgrade. An absolute downgrade.<br /><br />Not seeing excellent infrastructure is one thing. Not having professors who can actually profess wisdom in various aspects of life and living is one thing. Not having an extremely sharp mind displaying the vibrance of his/her mindscape for you to go agape is one thing. But, having to bear it all for two years and keep up a smile saying that you consider it all wonderful is one bloody hell of an another thing.<br /><br />IIM sapped the life out of me.<br /><br />And then came Reliance. It is a very good company. Actually, in my consideration it is one of the best business organisations in INDIA to be working for. But, one person screwed up the beauty fo the whole thing for me. He sapped a little more life out of me.<br /><br />And then there was a chick who betrayed me. It didnt just sap the life out of me, it nearly killed me.<br /><br />But, then I came to Mumbai one night after doing something I consider derogatory. I went into this place called BLUE FROG.<br /><br />That one night refilled me with pep and jazz and vitality and well, whatever elz you can think.<br /><br />YOU MIGHT PUT ME DOWN, BUT I'LL GET UP AGAIN.<br />FUCK YOU, BITCHY LIFE.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-3863268332137145592?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hsK1FMCjrUuyDDAgfJzIrO_bHgs/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hsK1FMCjrUuyDDAgfJzIrO_bHgs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hsK1FMCjrUuyDDAgfJzIrO_bHgs/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hsK1FMCjrUuyDDAgfJzIrO_bHgs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/4ZSSS08Mlrw" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2009/05/reprise.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-56523058221751969822007-09-22T08:04:00.000-07:002007-09-22T08:11:23.347-07:002007-09-22T08:11:23.347-07:00<p class="MsoNormal"><strong>Note:This aint poetry. It is simply badly rhyming verses strung together to make some sense.</strong><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Presently in this phase of life.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><strong><em><center>Nascence of Youth</center></em></strong></p><p class="MsoNormal">Composed: Sept 22, 2007.<br /></p><o:p></o:p>Sparkling skies, bewildered moon,<br />Reached here a bit too soon.<br />Entangled in the veil of maturity,<br />Preparing to take a stance of surety.<br />In grip of duties, caught accidentally,<br />Discovering fresh freedoms, unhurriedly. <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Scintillating skies, perplexed moon,<br />Arrived here a bit too soon.<br />Snake in the pants, fire in the hearts,<br />Bombarded constantly by cupid’s darts.<br />Enchanted by unlocked imagination,<br />Spreading our unbounded ambition.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Sparkling skies, bewildered moon,<br />Reached here a bit too soon.<br />Wraped in mists of uncertainity,<br />Wondering about our destiny.<br />This heart full of desire can only sing,<br />Upon commencing these days of srping.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:&quot;;font-size:12;" ><br /></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-5652305822175196982?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FglDRC1Zjo664ZmgtGV9nVGpYOg/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FglDRC1Zjo664ZmgtGV9nVGpYOg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FglDRC1Zjo664ZmgtGV9nVGpYOg/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FglDRC1Zjo664ZmgtGV9nVGpYOg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/IQzNtyu9QOk" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2007/09/notethis-aint-poetry.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-11441382035419857142007-08-19T12:59:00.000-07:002007-08-19T13:06:14.941-07:002007-08-19T13:06:14.941-07:00Hell Sagas: Vol II<br /><strong>I</strong><span style="font-style: italic;">nteresting</span> <strong>N</strong><span style="font-style: italic;">aughty</span> <strong>S</strong><span style="font-style: italic;">liver</span> <strong>T</strong><span style="font-style: italic;">oxicating</span> <strong>I</strong><span style="font-style: italic;">ntoxication</span> Party<br /><p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Insti Parties</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p>We have a ritual out here. We need to listen to BC sutta and/or GMD at the end of each insti party. I cant make out if it is an elaborate attempt at being a rebel or if it is just down right dismal choice. Insti party, an acronym for <i>Interesting Naughty Sliver Toxicating Intoxication party</i>; are a hit with the students body of IIM Lucknow. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p>I am not a regular at these. The ones I have attended are diluted in the intoxication part of it all. But people tell me all about that madness that alcohol sprinkles in the minds of these bright young minds on these occasions. </p><i style="">Master Of puppets I'm pulling your strings<o:p></o:p></i><i style=""><br />Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams<o:p></o:p></i> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style=""><o:p> </o:p>Music.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style=""><o:p> </o:p></i>Several forms of communication have developed as group ability in the evolution of the human race through the centuries. The finest form of them all, Music is also evolving. Long time ago, mermaids played the harp symphonies for the ship wrecked on lonely islands; who somehow seem to have lost all hope and in a trance not trying to enjoy the ongoing harmony. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"> Well, nothing of that sort happens at our <span style="font-style: italic;">insti parties</span>. We have those regular acts that defame the very name of alcohol. Dramas, useless foolish trivial dramas. However, if you take another perspective which is mine too; these acts are what add the fizz to the celebration of youth, spirit, energy and life. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p>We have a heavy dose of Punjabi Music. I got to admit, living in this part of the country you get to hear different tastes and likes. I, a traveler, can’t resist these however hard I try to retain my own identity of being a south Indian. In the sweet enchanting company of whiskey, the body moves ungracefully to the beats in the music.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p>This might not sound like party to you. You might have witnessed parties in glossy setting with babes displayed as trophies by wealthy fat men. On second thoughts, I think that is totally filmy. So, lets try something again. You might have witnessed parties with UBGB kind of women showing what they got to the gyrations of the country music. On second thoughts again, that doesn’t sound good either. Lets give it one more shot. Oh! What the heck. The point is we don’t have many women. The ones who are ‘well, you know what’ kinds, come only for a short while. The other few who are ‘well, again you know what’ kinds don’t come at all. Well, getting back to more important things.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p>Music is the third reason I go to these parties once in a while. Alcohol is the second reason. Madness is the first.</p> Going out of control. We know that it will all be forgotten or forgiven sooner or later. We like to throw all inhibitions outside the window. We love Insti Party.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-1144138203541985714?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/95CDWZhH0yyEE2O90sty77HNWpQ/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/95CDWZhH0yyEE2O90sty77HNWpQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/95CDWZhH0yyEE2O90sty77HNWpQ/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/95CDWZhH0yyEE2O90sty77HNWpQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/PKYw-UNrhsw" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2007/08/insti-party.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-56229961435487943212007-08-19T12:37:00.000-07:002007-08-19T12:42:26.992-07:002007-08-19T12:42:26.992-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">Simply Shri buddies........<br /><br />Walking on this road all alone,<br />Laden with burning pieces of coal ,<br />Cant avoid this lasting moan,<br /><br />2*****<br />I saw a star twinkling in the sky.<br />It asked me “Have u seen anything brighter than me?”<br />I said, “Yes”<br /><br />1*****<br /><br />I can hear the sulking of my soul.<br />Look ahead I, to see only mist,<br />Punchbag of excuses search I,<br /><br />2*****<br /><br />I saw the rose early one morning.<br />It asked me “Have u seen anything more beautiful than me?”<br />I said, “Yes”<br /><br />1****<br /><br />Gather my agony in my fist,<br />Punch the air and curse the sky.<br />Wonder if all this were only a dream,<br /><br />2****<br />I heard the breeze whistle in my ears.<br />It asked me “Have u seen anything more playful than me?”<br />I said “Yes”<br /><br />1****<br /><br />Adding to that, this aura so mystical,<br />I wish i can wake up and scream,<br />Trapped in reality so very magical!<br /><br />2****<br />I saw a deer playing in a meadow.<br />It asked me “Have u seen anything more cheerful than me?”<br />I said “Yes”<br /><br />1****<br /><br />Aint easy, swimming against the tide,<br />Leaving friends and loved ones,<br />Now, frustration taking me on a ride,<br /><br />2*****<br /><br />I saw the golden light of the early morning sun.<br />It asked me “Have u seen anything lovelier than me?”<br />I said “Yes”<br /><br />1****<br /><br />Mocking me, the truth making funce!<br />But, reacheth i my Goal surely,<br />For i havent sold my self-pride,<br /><br />2****<br /><br />I saw the earth all around me.<br />It asked me “Have u seen anything more magnificent than me?”<br />I said “Yes”<br /><br />1****<br /><br />To this falsifying world cheaply,<br />My consicous shall not chide.<br />Creed of experimenters, I belong to,<br /><br />2*****<br /><br />I saw love.<br />It asked me “Have u seen anything better than me?”<br />I said “NO”.<br /><br />1*****<br />Life was never easy for us,<br />Fight with might, inch by inch we move,<br />Although the world shall cuss.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-5622996143548794321?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ybH9FC4qu1FP-r5_-EZ43GWsoLc/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ybH9FC4qu1FP-r5_-EZ43GWsoLc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ybH9FC4qu1FP-r5_-EZ43GWsoLc/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ybH9FC4qu1FP-r5_-EZ43GWsoLc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/VzYibqJz4Sc" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2007/08/oxymoron.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-60961213891467815262007-07-23T11:22:00.000-07:002007-07-23T11:31:17.406-07:002007-07-23T11:31:17.406-07:00Excerpts from The Shreez Chronicles<br /><br /><center><strong>Jargon-ate-'d</strong></center><br />“No, try to understand this. The rate of return on the intellectual capital invested in this place is shockingly low” said Anne Fic assertively and started showing an imaginary pie chart that had pretty little % figures as a legend.<br /><br />Marte King calmly replied with vivid gestures “Oh Wait. Wait. How can you just say that! First try to understand the tangible and the intangible return. This place is more about the latter. What is happening to you out here is that you are turning into an asset. You use the SWOT analysis on yourself. It is your S’s that make you an asset. The W’s add the dimension of risk. You are going to perform efficiently as your acid test would show to a prospective company. The cash flows of your life are simply going to bloom. “<br /><br />Anne Fic smiled, “Marte King. You seem to be in a good mood to globe.”<br /><br />Marte King smiled too and said, “That how, I make my life.”<br /><br />A tune suddenly shook the comfortable numbness that had swept the room. Marte King tried to reach for the cell phone on the table. The ring tone was that of Floyd. It was Comfortably Numb. Marte King realized that the numbness would continue for a while. If it is urgent, people would call again anyway. <br /><br />Anne Fic frowned. “Bloody freeriders”.<br /><br />Marte King was about to defend. But dropped the thought. Instead started with “Have you ever segmented the IIM Lucknow market based on psychographic variables?”<br /><br />Anne Fic said, “I have COR VAL paper in a week. But what you suggest is a little more interesting. Tell me about it.”<br /><br />Marte King got a little bit energetic breaking out of the numb shell and started, “Firstly the committee thing. One could clearly identify the two segments – The committee wale and the non-committee wale. Ofcourse there are some outliers here and there, ones who are in one and actually belong to the other. Each cluster has it’s own characteristics. “<br /><br />Anne Fic was quick to react, “Now. Now. Don’t get into the details, we all know about it. What about using ‘wanting one of the other sex’ as the discriminating variable amongst students, professors and others. (Chuckles) Think about it. Which group would you allot me to?”<br /><br />Marte King pondered for a while and replied, “Nopes buddy. Married or unmarried, single or couple, studying or teaching; that cannot be a discriminating variable. Everybody will score very high on that variable.”<br /><br />“You mean to say that everybody would tick ‘Agree Strongly’?” said Anne Fic.<br /><br />“I thought that we were using the other scale, not this one. Well, that’s what I mean. By the way, how do you think IIM should be positioned to the incoming batch” said Marte King.<br /><br />That’s when Shukla Madam walked into the room and said, “MBAs. You people know only jargon!!”<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-6096121389146781526?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/t7TO1CJN8yfuwRcp7dx_bRmjWpo/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/t7TO1CJN8yfuwRcp7dx_bRmjWpo/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/t7TO1CJN8yfuwRcp7dx_bRmjWpo/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/t7TO1CJN8yfuwRcp7dx_bRmjWpo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/hzo7i6u2dIY" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2007/07/jargon-ate-d.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-10798061732839990312007-06-16T15:58:00.000-07:002007-06-17T04:50:07.360-07:002007-06-17T04:50:07.360-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">Day One - Year Two : : Hell Sagas.</span><br /><br />People were talking to each other with a childish enthusiasm. The topics of conversation ranged from their summers experiences to their new rooms. The smiles on their faces were a testimony to their happiness on being back to what they lovingly referred to as 'Hell'.<br /><br />I too was smiling. I too was shaking hands. I too was hugging. I too was talking. But, amidst all that make belief; <span style="font-style: italic;">my eyes were searching for her</span>. From the minute I landed on campus to the one I went to classes, all through; <span style="font-style: italic;">my eyes were searching for her.<br /></span><br />I met my old buddy. For a few moments, my mind got diverted. He was my closest pal on campus and knew most of my secrets. It was actually a delight meeting him and talking to him after such a while. He then asks, "I hope you are over her!"<br /><br />Bang.<br /><br />Bang.<br /><br />Back to her.<br /><br />His last statement hurt me like the kick of a thousand elephants. He was the first I shared this crush of mine with. Of all people, I expected him to understand it, 'coz he too had a similar thing for another female on campus.<br /><br />It didnt matter, if she reciprocated his feelings. It didnt matter, if she smiled at him. It didnt matter, if she talked to him. It didnt matter, if she knew of his existence. All that mattered was his liking for her. All that mattered was his feeling for her.<br /><br />My friend chose to tag my crush as different from his. He wants me to get over her. They want me to get over her. How can I tell them, I cant. I never can. Even if she gets married, even if I get married; the feeling I have for her shall never die. Even if she loathes me to her guts, I can never cease loving her.<br /><br />Did i hear you laughing ?<br /><br />Unconditional Love.<br /><br />Try it sometime.<br />Each day is spring.<br />Each moment is filled with music.<br />Each whisper is a melody.<br />Each sight is a miracle.<br />Each thing you do is fun.<br />Life becomes beautiful.<br />Try it sometime.<br /><br />I wish I could etch my love on each and every stone on this planet, if not her heart. I wish I could sing my love to each and every bird on this planet, if not her eyes. I wish I could paint my love on each passing cloud, if not her thoughts. I wish I could.....<br /><br />I just smiled back at my friend. He understood. We started walking towards the classes. And there she was....<br /><br />There she was, smiling. She was with some of my other friends. They were walking in a direction opposite to us. They noticed us. They waved to us.<br /><br />She noticed us. She turned and noticed some other friends walking towads her from another direction.<br /><br />Silence.<br /><br />Darkness.<br /><br />I was choking. I was falling. I felt pain. I felt agony. I felt despair.<br /><br />She knew how i felt about her. She doesnt care.<br /><br />Silence.<br /><br />Darkness.<br /><br />Despair.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I walk an empty street, on the boulevard of broken dreams.<br /></span> <br /><div style="text-align: right;"> -- -- Shriesh<br /></div><div style="text-align: right;">Laugh, Love, Live.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-1079806173283999031?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2QraGNXw5M8kuLVLpGPKRJLmHKM/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2QraGNXw5M8kuLVLpGPKRJLmHKM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2QraGNXw5M8kuLVLpGPKRJLmHKM/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2QraGNXw5M8kuLVLpGPKRJLmHKM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/AuQFGYctvGY" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2007/06/hell-sagas-vol2.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-5142768768809898322007-06-15T10:22:00.000-07:002007-06-15T10:43:17.626-07:002007-06-15T10:43:17.626-07:00Is reality an illusion?<br /><br />Or does something called 'reality' actually exist ?<br /><br />Are we in a matrix? Did we take the blue pill ? Did the spoon actually bend ?<br /><br />Is one capable of witnessing and understanding reality?<br /><br />What is reality in the first place?<br /><br />Let me try a definition. It is what the world is like when you are in a state of zero desire, zero feeling. In such a state, you are simply receptive without bias, prejudice, expectation and opinion. You are completely devoid of emotion - the catalyst to perception. You witness the environment in it's true form - the naked truth, the horrible reality.<br /><br />With that definition in mind, let me try to answer the queries posed before it.<br /><br />'State of zero desire' is and always will be a hypothetical concept. Let us for a while, assume that such a state is achievable. You do spend sometime in such a stage. But after a while, in such a beautiful, wonderful and mystical world you are bound to be susceptible to desire. But, you persist to keep your present state of zero desire intact. Thus, you begin desiring not to have any further desires. There ! You are no more in a state of zero desire. Reality, ceases to exist.<br /><br />Reality is nothing but a myriad of perceptions. Your reality is not mine and mine is not yours, simply for the reason that our perceptions are different.<br /><br />I dont know if I am in a matrix or not. It sure seems to be one.<br /><br />I wish I could strip all my inhibitions, my feelings, relations and witness the world in it's truest form.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-514276876880989832?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2hkNqDee7K_1uRSho7N5v1D3YZ4/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2hkNqDee7K_1uRSho7N5v1D3YZ4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2hkNqDee7K_1uRSho7N5v1D3YZ4/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2hkNqDee7K_1uRSho7N5v1D3YZ4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/vHWl9r54UNg" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2007/06/reality-vs-illusion.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-35811024248502193192007-06-09T07:07:00.000-07:002007-06-09T07:19:27.653-07:002007-06-09T07:19:27.653-07:00The last chapter.<br /><br />On June 11th, I'll be entering the fences again that I have imprisoned myself in. For quite some more time.<br />No more madness. No more insanity. No more whacky stuff. No more listening to the heart. The mind shall take control of this soul. Why?<br /><br />Survival.<br /><br />My last week, I am spending it in Delhi. I had to make my final presentation to the HR ppl out here in Delhi.<br /><br />After two days in Delhi, i realised DELHI GIRLS ROCK thumbs down in comparison to Mumbai.<br /><br />I was trying to explain my crush on the chick to my friend. She happens to be a very good friend of his. He couldnt help laughing. No one can. It is funny, i gotta nod in agreement to that.<br /><br />Stability scares me. I dont want to get stable as long as the blood in my veins is hot with youth.<br />Movement. Transition. Innovation.<br /><br />Life shall take a turn at this corner.<br /><br />Dated: 09-06-07<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-3581102424850219319?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cZW_roZe0WGtFg5P1Uvx7SpGBEQ/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cZW_roZe0WGtFg5P1Uvx7SpGBEQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cZW_roZe0WGtFg5P1Uvx7SpGBEQ/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cZW_roZe0WGtFg5P1Uvx7SpGBEQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/2d0bAMNhSBM" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2007/06/summer-stories-6.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-39593896282140764782007-06-09T06:39:00.000-07:002007-06-09T07:06:39.552-07:002007-06-09T07:06:39.552-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">LIFE GOES ON AND ON....<br /><br /></span>I lift the phone. Dial the number in front of me. One ring, two rings, three rings; someone picks it up on the other side.<br /><br />Me: "Hello Madam, Am I talking to Mini Mathur?"<br /><br />Receiver: "Yes."<br /><br />Me: "Hello. I wanted to meet and talk to you. Why the hell are you doing this campaign for Big Bazaar !!!"<br /><br />I wish I could say that last statement.<br /><br />I wish. I wish. I wish.<br /><br />Too many wishes of late. Just been wishing.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I am in David Jones Locker and DOWN IS UP.</span><br /><br />The monsoons arrived in Mumbai. The city looks better to me in such weathers. The sense of urgency seems to be washed away. On the platforms, one can listen only to the sounds of monsoon.<br /><br />Splashing.<br /><br />I stopped noticing the girls in Mumbai. What was the point.? It would get me more frustrated.<br /><br />I tried recollecting last night's event. It was 11:40:00 PM. I was on Dadar railway station and it looked eerie without many people. The train had arrived. I had more than ample time to get aboard. I looked inside for empty seats. I didnt see any. I came out and was foot-boarding.<br /><br />Ahead in the flickering lights, I saw my life. Where was it going ?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I am running out of time to decide on that.</span><br /><br />Last night after reaching my friends place, I went through all the work I had done. There was a little more left. I knew I would get done with it soon. My friend had a book on branding. I started reading it for reference.<br /><br />My mind has always been alive. But, this city gave it an entirely new life. If my mental activity could be used to generate electricity,;I am sure that at least a 2o storey building with 6 apartments on each floor could survive for 10 days with me thinking for a day.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Take the red pill or the Blue pill and decide between the Matrix and reality.</span><br /><br />How can I turn reality into fantasy?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-3959389628214076478?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/egi9eehdVL6VoSOUHp5Vi7K1A7E/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/egi9eehdVL6VoSOUHp5Vi7K1A7E/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/egi9eehdVL6VoSOUHp5Vi7K1A7E/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/egi9eehdVL6VoSOUHp5Vi7K1A7E/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/mvNYggpaYrU" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2007/06/summer-stories-5.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9534310.post-68237274149814308272007-06-08T13:49:00.000-07:002007-06-08T14:07:32.051-07:002007-06-08T14:07:32.051-07:00Black Dog.<br /><br />Kingsfisher ( Strong).<br /><br />Some 'nakul' shot!!<br /><br /><br />Quote<br />"We'll take offense to it anyways. So that we can weaseal out it."<br />{something like that. Ask N**** for more details)<br /><br />----<br /><br />Ok, summer stories.<br /><br />Craziness.<br /><br />A lot of it.<br /><br />Dont know what to make out of it.<br /><br />i have gone crazy about this girl.<br /><br />I told it to her.<br /><br />I think she has blocked me gtalk.<br /><br />My friend says the best song for you at the moment it is " Crazy kiya ra, crazy kiya re"<br /><br />Actually, I was humming this song for quite a while earlier.<br /><br />My friend says "You have gone mad. You are raghu romeo:"<br /><br />Who the fuck is Raghu romeo.<br /><br />Is it real or am I just craving for attention ??<br /><br />I dont know.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Close your eyes.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Listen to the music you love.</span><br /><br />And then think.<br /><br />(No, fucker!! It is not some fucking some fucking sad fucking hindi fucking song fucking<br />{I know u like fucking. Everyone does)<br /><br />I can remember only one thing....<br /><br />Dil mera keh raha...<br />tuuuu khwaaaab sajaaaa...<br /><br /><br />ROFLMAO......................ROFLMAO...................................ROFLMAO..................<br /><br />I know so many people in Delhi.<br />But, of all people; Why her ??? Why should I bump into her !! I saw her. (How could I not notice her) I didnt say a thing. He notices her and says "Hi"<br /><br />What the fuck !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br /><br />GO AWAY.<br /><br />I NEED MINDCLEANSING.<br /><br />MORE OF BRAINWASHing.<br /><br />With 19 girls in freshers, I dont think so.<br /><br />But, GB always finds a way!!!<br /><br />We all always do!!<br /><br />9-06-2007. Nakul's Place. After two of Nakul's shots.<br /><br />Life Rocks.<br /><br />Zindagi Rocks.<br /><br />Hmmm....<br /><br />When They tease me, I feell...<br /><br />Wait, No !! Not that !!<br /><br />Not Her !!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9534310-6823727414981430827?l=shriesh.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div> <p><a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/z445P5kxN3cPHQXvuh0QORK8nzo/0/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/z445P5kxN3cPHQXvuh0QORK8nzo/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a><br/> <a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/z445P5kxN3cPHQXvuh0QORK8nzo/1/da"><img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/z445P5kxN3cPHQXvuh0QORK8nzo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"></img></a></p><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TheOriginalShri/~4/JNsg41EFIUI" height="1" width="1"/>shrieshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05226194248173473220noreply@blogger.comhttp://shriesh.blogspot.com/2007/06/summer-stories.html