Peripheral Vision

You Know You Hate Anatomy When…..

2013-02-11T11:45:00.002-08:00

Entered Med school, thinking it’s a mighty warship in Star Trek,

Then you notice it’s like an iceberg-crashed, Titanic deck,

Dreamt of being a kick-ass Doc, with a steth around the neck,

Anatomy, the first hurdle-which made you go “What the heck!”

You feel,

Cranial nerves- their path, eccentric than a drunkard-driven express train,

Sulci or Gyri are better seen in your bowl of noodle, than the brain

Extensor Carpi Radialis Longus did seem dead-pan long,

Until Levator Labii Superioris Aleque Nasi, then did come along.

You feel every Tom, Dick and Harry has his self-named bone fracture,

You forget facts faster than you say ‘Volkmann’s contracture’

The histology slides, all resemble molten cherry and grape sundae!
Surface Marking- you look as if a monkey with paint-brush, any day!

Naming a fascia in a thousand ways, is an anatomist's greatest must,

And making Neuro Anat diagrams, which look like polka dots on pizza crusts.

You wish to drown the dead Chaurasia, in a tank of formalin,

Or to strangle Henry Gray with an Ileum, and then grin!

Then at the Viva-the crossroad between heaven and hell,

A glance at that examiner, and ‘Halleluiah!” you yell!

Nostalgia

2013-02-09T06:27:00.000-08:00

Do you remember??

The squeaky, tiny tricycle you rode around your room,

The little Lego Blocks which made your architecture bloom,

A high-decibel police car which went ‘Vroom Vroom”!!

Or the turn-a-key monkey who played the drum all day??

Don’t you think we’ve indeed walked a long, long way??

The times when,

You loved ‘123’, not knowing what maths had in store for you,

You knew that a cock crows, a crow caws and a cow does moo!

The head, chest, hands and legs was the only Anatomy you knew,

Or when we believed North Pole was where Elves and Santa stay??

Don’t you think we’ve indeed walked a long, long way??

Or the times when,

You loved Pokémon, until you couldn’t count them anymore,
Road rash, Mario and Dave made your fingers go all sore,

The capes, the masks and comics- you loved the superhero lore,

Or when you wondered if you’re simply too grown to play??

Don’t you think we’ve indeed walked a long, long way??

And also,

Kicking the football in the rain and even wishing for some more,

The lump in your throat when you saw the cute girl next door,

The insane talks with buddies, laughing, rolling on the floor,

Or the exam-eve, midnight toil-the eleventh hour fray??

Don’t you think we’ve indeed walked a long, long way??

Time’s a stupid bitch that waits for none, they say,

Before you even know it, your hair may start to grey!

Yet, we refrain to ditch the past and barely walk away…

Shit!! We’ve indeed walked a long, long way!!

An Invisible Existence

2013-02-08T07:50:00.001-08:00

Amidst a thousand mirrors, petrified I stand.

Yet, why I see no myself, I fail to understand...

A run down the beach, beside a gleaming twilight sea,

Yet, why I see no footprints, reach back at me??

Lively, livid human silhouettes, which walk across the lane,

Yet, among the crowds, I seem a ghost gone insane.

Faces – grinning, laughing, smiling; be it sunshine or the rain,

Yet, why no one casts a glance upon my pain??

How I love the rains! They hide the tear in my eye…

And I love the dark, which shields the fear I deny…

I feel dead. Wait, is it any different- I live or I die??

Now, shall I fight? Wait, it’s too futile a fight…

I crave for the warmth of the love I once had,

How I miss those divine moments- crazy and mad!

Cast in this mist of loneliness, how long can I last?

Yet, I live the today, each moment, re-living the past…

Imperfectly Perfect...(Let's Move On!)

2012-10-23T09:15:00.003-07:00

Two dark silhouettes, against the sky's crimson curtain, wide,

Or that divine, barefoot walk on the silver sands, by the sea-side.

All those movies, fake and hyped; you do wonder why they lied.

Life's not a blissful coaster ride; you know truths that silver-screens hide.

The fairy-tale, alpha life, where every crisis resolves itself,

Or those tinge of joy and cheer on every face, like an X'mas elf.

Those days are yet to dawn...With a silent prayer, let's move on...

That gentle touch on a tear-filled eye...

Or that concerned shoulder to crutch and cry...

The first kiss, in those stormy rains...

Or that innocent hug, in those backyard lanes...

Those days are yet to dawn...With a silent prayer, let's move on...

Those mindless, mid-day chats, atop the church hillock...

Laughing faces around the makeshift table of a random rock...

That photo album, with every dear, jackass friend...

Or that well-dreamt scene of a 'Happily-ever-after' end...

Those days are yet to dawn...With a silent prayer, let's move on...

How we forget life's indulgences, amongst its dull realism,

Even the monotonous white splits into colors, on the face of the prism,

For perfection never does meet pragmatism....

For when the tiny feel-good nuances we neglect...

We forget God has made all souls imperfectly perfect...

Hyper-polarized....

2012-09-09T02:48:00.000-07:00

Life, now I reckon is as whimsical as a dice game of Snakes And Ladders (That 'snakes-swallows-you-and-throws-you outta-it’s-ass' game, remember?) After a tumultuous tryst with a slew of nonsensical entrance exams (Kudos to the society which shoves the tag of a doctor/engineer up an infant’s ass even before he’s half way down the vagina), I’m finally in a place I least imagined myself to be. Each day, as I cross the road to my medical college, with a pending record book in the bag and a dissection-stained lab coat dangling by my side, I feel something indescribable fill inside of me… (Well, it could be the vehicle exhaust on Sarjapur Road, but anyways)

What’s it being a medical student? While an optimist sees a glass as half-filled and a pessimist sees the same as half empty, a medical student is supposed to see a rounded structure with water extending from the inferior surface of its fossa up to its medial one-half. As I venture out in this unexplored vortex awaiting me, I’m no more oblivious that my mind is intertwined within my chaotically swaying emotions (To put crudely, I feel somewhat like a desperate sperm cell whose flagella got stuck in cilia).

At times, you feel as ecstatic as a toddler clutching his new toy, yet, at times you feel like a fully metabolized bilirubin molecule (Read: In deep shit)…At times, you feel your life has more ups and downs than the ECG of a fibrillated heart…While at times you dream about patients in front of you and a stethoscope (portable, instant-suicide rope) wrapped around your neck.

There will be times when you’ll feel detached, away from the world, like the rook on the chessboard…There will be times when you’ll feel isolated and unwanted, like that one damned air bubble in a micro-pipette. (Yes, it sucks. Pun intended) But equally so, there will be times when you will sense your cynicism fast fading like the fallacies of a fucked-up fakir. You know it is all worth it. You just have to stick to it and be yourself, rather than putting on a ‘I’m cool with it’ mask, more artificial than a Viagra-infused weenie.

Surely, right now, everything seems as vague as a histology slide under the microscope. But we, the boot-lickers of the dice and destiny theology, will march on. Because I know this is where I wanted to be…What I wanted to be…All of it is yet to sink in…Physiologically speaking, maybe I’m just hyper-polarized…..

One For The Road...

2012-05-22T05:29:00.000-07:00

"Patient's in trauma. Multiple injuries. Check the vitals!", Dr. Prakash barked out orders, swinging the ICU staff promptly into action.
"110 over 60, airways cleared, pulse faint. Resuming CPR", the assistant doctor responded.
Kate stood there, petrified like a marble statue, gleaming drops of tears racing down her dusky cheeks. She must have seen hundreds of trauma patients. Hell, she sees them each day of her life. But watching Alex go through the ordeal, was crushing her soul into pieces. Her most special day in life, slowly turning into a vortex of unexpected horror. She felt the reassuring hand of Dr.Prakash on her shoulder. He tried to smile, unsuccessfully though. Kate wiped her tears off, grabbed her coat and joined the staff.
"Darn! Revive the pulse, quick!"
"Adrenaline injected. Pulse constant though. Airways getting blocked again"
Dr.Prakash stared into the X-ray. His eyes showed concern. Kate knew he had over looked something.
"Shit.The fifth rib's slightly fractured. Must've lacerated the right lung. He's bleeding into it"
Kate looked at him in the eye. He turned his face to the wall, away from her. "Rush him into surgery. Hemothorax. Lung needs to be fixed. Suck the blood out", he said, walking away from ICU, his head low, his eyes transfixed on the floor.

* * *

Kate wrapped her arms around Alex tightly. The evening sun was drowning gracefully in a sea of orange. It soaked her messy one-room apartment in quaint sunlight. The day was special to her. She pressed her head against Alex's chest as he fiddled with her hair. Eleven years ago, on this very day they had got into a relationship. To be lying in his arms on such a day, it just felt divine! So perfect her imperfect, monotonous life seemed at that moment!
"Hey, I feel thirsty!", he yawned. "Get me some chilled water, will you ?"
"Get it yourself, you lazy ass!"
He pushed her out of the bed. "You mean lazy, cute ass right?"
"You're just cruel!", she laughed playfully. She walked over to the fridge, across the room. "Alex, you're one hell of an idiot you know?", she smiled, as she opened the fridge. Her eyes went over to a small, velvet box, glistening in the LED light from behind. She took it her hands. A jewellery box? She scanned it, flipped it and slowly opened it, not quite sure what it enclosed. What she saw inside, was a ring. "What the..." , she began to say as she turned back.
Alex was on his knees. "Katie, are you ready to marry this idiot and spend the rest of your life in some sheer stupidity?"
"Oh my God!", she exclaimed, smiling at the shimmering ring . She was sure it was quite a loud scream.

* * *

She wasn't allowed to operate on any person whom she personally knows. But Kate had convinced main surgeon, Dr. Mehra to let her in as a second surgeon. The operation room scared her for the first time in her life. The mint green scrubs, the equipment, all of it frightened her. She bit her lip under her procedural mask, as the tension surged.
The assistant finished his work on the sternum. She opened the rib-cage with a retractor. Though faintly, she could now see his heart actually beat. She wanted to cry. But she held back the tears. She handed the surgeon a pair of thoracic forceps and rib shears.
An hour went by. Dr.Mehra looked clueless. Helpless.
"Hemothorax is worsening!", The techinician interjected.
"BP is droping. Bleeding accelerating."
The chest tube was sucking out the blood. But it looked as if there's a flood of it inside. For Kate, everything was whirling around. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore.
"Loss of blood is heavy. 100 over 50"
"Oxygen levels critical. Patient moving into shock. BP is spiking abruptly!"

* * *

"Hey jerk, I'm driving!! Get out of the seat!", Jai screamed as he jumped into Alex's i20.
"Bitch please! You're drunk! I'm the one who'll drive. You shut your cake-hole and hop behind, get me?", Alex said.
Alex hardly drank. Even today, he hardly had a glassful.
"What did I even drink?", Jai retorted.
"5-6 pegs?? Thats enough ethyl alcohol in your system!"
"I drank to celebrate for you! You proposed Kate! That's celebration time! Sit back and listen some Taylor swift, you lovey-dovey dumbass", he pushed Alex away from the drivers seat. Alex, though reluctantly let him drive. Partly because he got a call from Kate. She seemed super excited.
Jai drove. Seemingly unaware of the reckless truck taking a sharp turn around the corner. Unaware, that the drive was going to cost him his life.

* * *

"60 over 30. Sudden fall. He's having an arrest! Any chances for a VAD??"
"Negligible... BP dropping fatally...We're losing him!"
Kate trembled. "Do something, for godsakes!", she found herself screaming.
Dr.Mehra's eyes, however, were fixed on the patient. He checked the pulse on the screen. "Response?"
"Nil"
The ECG lines on the computer monitor flattened into a straight line. It echoed a screeching sound.
"Time of death 12:53 AM", Dr.Mehta said.
Kate looked at Alex's heart. It had stopped beating. Somewhere inside her, she felt even hers had stopped. Tears dripped down her face, falling like raindrops onto his body. Removing her glove, she stared at the golden ring on her finger...

Every half an hour, a person dies due to drink-driving......

THE NOT-SO-GOOD TIMES OF INDIA

2012-05-21T04:40:00.000-07:00

THE NOT-SO-GOOD TIMES OF INDIA

21, May 2012.

City

Teen Joins Adivasi Tribe Eyeing ST certificate : 17-year old Bablu D'mello, resident of Bandra, who secured AIR 13598 in recent JEE has shifted base to Navegoan forests on a mission to attain ST certificate in order to ensure an IIT seat. Bablu has carried along a BMW full of food, his I-pad, Blackberry and has requested offficials to provide uninterrupted Wi-fi connection in Navegaon.

Pride Of Mulund : Lingerie giant Victoria's Secret have employed Mulund-based chaddi-banyan gang as their Indian brand ambassadors. They have been sent special designer chaddis as part of a 10-million contract, as the ring leader Chinnappa revealed. Sources state that the reason behind the deal is that no Bollywood actresses seem to wear panties these days, let alone promote them.

Nation

Didi Celebrates Chelsea Win : Mamata Banerjee, in an open press conference, congratulated Chelsea on their Champions league win. Her support hails from the fact that Bayern Munich wear red. She went on to say that they are German Maoists and CPM cadres.

International

India-Pak Row Over Poop : 12 year old, Kashmiri boy Tinku's dog Rocky has pooped on the Line of Control. India and Pakistan jumped into conflict mode over who will clean Rocky's poop. After high profile meetings, PM Manmohan Singh said that he suspected that Rocky is working with the ISI. Pakistan meanwhile, urged America to intervene.

Bollywood

Tushar Kapoor Sues Maths Teacher : A maths teacher in a reputed school has been sued by Tushar Kapoor. The acccused supposedly showed a student the recent photo of Tushar Kapoor's Moobs when the student asked him what is a cone. Meanwhile, Breast Cancer Awareness agencies are in a hurry to sign Tushar Kapoor, riding on his fame.

Bhatts Remake Twilight : While Emraan Hashmi has been roped in to play Pattinson, Katrina, Deeepika and all other whiny, expressionless girls are in the fray for role of Kristen. The directors declared Sufi songs will be used in the scenes in which Edward stalks Bella.

Sex

With I-condom, Apple Sets The 'Balls Rolling' : The latest Apple product, I-condom, boasts of a length-width adjuster, a 2GB in-built song playlist for setting the mood, 15MP cam for recording live sessions, 3G connectivity for uploading it to your favourite website, and apps like Hard-O-Meter. Women can also like, compare and comment about their partners' 'length' and 'duration' on the WeenieBook App.

(Our columnist Sahinder Salsa is on leave owing to his penis being stuck in a garden hose. The reason he did it, is still unclear)

Sports

Gayle Molests Six : Cricketer Chris Gayle was caught having a sixsome at the Bangalore airport while he was endlessly waiting for the team's KingFisher flight to take off. The star has taken his obsession for sixes to a new level with this. Sources say Siddhrtha Mallya and fellow molester Luke Pomersbach were seen seeking advice from Gayle.

Crossroads.

2012-05-19T06:41:00.001-07:00

For all those students, for whom entrances/boards didn't turn out well.

I look ahead, and I see fear. Look backwards, and I see guilt.

That time of year, now it's here; Results, marks, and all that filth.

The chills that run down your spine; Screwdom, you have made me thine.

Hope, now at its highest pitch. Oh fate! thou art a heartless bitch!

A Rank decides all my worth? A dog's collar has greater girth.

What did I do, that turned so wrong? I did my best, sung my swan song.

Though I've tried, strived all along, Defeat greets me, and mistakes throng.

When I see books, I shed a tear. That the system sucks, its fucking clear.

You plunged ahead to reach the peak; but in all you saw, you saw no end.

Now the world crowns you a freak. You're left alone, no love, no friend.

Is there a backdoor in this maze? Could I just skip away this phase?

You wonder, with a startled gaze, wherein lies that divine face?

Entered the road, with hopes aflame; As I exit it, I seem not the same.

The road ahead's now truly lame; Life's a horrid little unfair game.

At the crossroads, now we stare; Uncertainty, a certain nightmare!

Now where we are, and where we were. I can't fathom life's ways, I swear!!!

The Myriad Faces of a Mumbaite Teenager....

2012-05-18T03:14:00.001-07:00

If you're a Teenager, Mumbaikar, and especially if a Science student, you have seen/made these 'faces' at some point of your life. A tribute to the average teen in me and you...

1. Frankie Face : That sophisticated look on your face while trying to decide whether to opt for a cheese frankie or cheese schezwan frankie. Is that schezwan really worth my 5 rupees? Confusing.

2. Sick-of-pic Face : The face you make while the photographer asks you to smile, after you having taken 10 different photos, for 10 different entrance exams, in the same week, in the same studio.

3. The 'Good Samaritan' Face : The I'll-be-there-for-you-look you wear when you forward a pic of class-notes/ exam time-table to your friend via bluetooth.

4. The 'I PWNED You' Face : The jubilant look you wear after knifing your enemy/partner while playing Counter-strike.

5. The 'You BC!' Face : This look is one that you give your OBC friend when he secures a better seat than you, having scored lesser in the exam.

6. The Arjun-Rampal Face : The expressionless expression when your physics practical sir makes you repeat your experiment for the fourth time. You secretly want to whack him with a meter-scale, Ninja style.

7. The 'I Suck At Biology' Face : The face of the math student whose inpromptu Kidney diagram in the Biology exam ended up looking like a foetus wearing a Christmas cap.

8. The 'Scared beyond Limits' Face : The expression of a math-hating student when he moves from Limits to Integration.

9. Connoisseur Face : The savouring look you give your best friend when he elbows you indicate that a hot girl, with well- endowed assets is passing by.

10. The Homicidal Face : This is the look you give a fellow passenger when he boards a peak-time train and have to get off at a station which comes after yours.

11. 'Footsie' Face : The 'End-of-life' exression on your face while kicking the guy sitting ahead of you in an exam, trying to 'kick' out answers from him.

12. The Aamir Face : The piercing , concern-showing, fake look you give a girl when she whines about her hundreth boyfriend dumping her. Go die, Bitch!

13. The 'Screw Chemistry' Face : The demonic look you give that one extra drop of NaOH which rendered your HCL solution dark pink, instead of light pink.You stupid Drop of a bitch!

14. The 'King of the Jungle' Face : The look of comtempt an IIT aspirant gives his fellow friend when he says he's aiming for CET. No one gives you a damn, dude.

15. 'WTF' face : The look on the students face after seeing this years MHT-CET question paper. I had one.

May 17, 2012

Idlis And Hamburgers.

2012-05-18T03:09:00.000-07:00

India, our beloved nation, trust me, is exactly similar to Pamela Andersons silicon babies. Why? Both are large. And fake. This self-proclaimed superpower is the penguin with wings. Come on, face it dude. You can’t fly with those! We emulate as well as criticize the West in the same breath.

Do you know the pre-requisites for a wannabe to enter college in India? 1. Grow your hair. OR 2. Smoke. When these wannabes hit the roadblock of monotonicity, the long haired ones smoke, and the ones who smoked, well, grow hair. It’s a vicious cycle. Dude, growing hair and expecting to be the next Chad Kroeger is like applying fair and lovely on your scrotum and expecting it to turn white.

People say American culture has bad sexual influences on growing kids. What you think teens in Uzbekistan don’t turn out horny? Aping the west in certain matters is not such a bad idea I think. CID is our longest running crime-show. (Imagine Stana Katic saying "Castle! Darwaza Tod Do!!) We have a feminized Jerry Springer in our Rakhi Sawant. Or not. Do our film-makers think we enjoy watching item girls shake their booty in every movie? Dear Bollywood, you're stuck in the pre-internet porn era. IPL is not EPL. Did you hear about Lalit Modi being in England? He went about saying Man City match was spot fixed.

Last week, the parliament, decided to go against the Western culture and set the age of consent as 18. Kidding me? 90% of the parliament must have screwed their wives when they were thirteen! According to statistics, India says it has 72 nuke warheads and missiles enough to hit any country in the world. Isn't that like saying ' Hey! I have 3 billion sperms in my gun!! I can impregnate the entire women population of the world.’ Wannabe attitude. Grow up.

India, with their new-found love for cartoonists is in a hurry to rush them behind the bars. What about 26/11 you idjits?? Well, leaked reports state that Ajmal Kasab (I still secretly theorize Pakistan traded him for Sania Mirza) started shrieking loudly in jail, and RAW agents were rushed in. However, later, it was found that he was actually choking on a piece of mutton. Posters of Taliban now go ‘Terrorize India. Get free food and accommodation.' Gaddafi, Saddam and Osama were seen face-palming in hell over why they messed with America and not India. Latest sources claim Obama sent SEALS armed with that devilish pitchfork-thingy to hell in order to maintain peace there. Meanwhile, Indians visiting all foreign countries are advised to stay away from the beaches, as there is the unimaginable terror of seeing a sun-bathing Pratibha Patil there.

In short, we ape the West in what we shouldn’t and don’t do it in what we’re supposed to. Its time we stopped proclaiming our erectile-dysfunctional rise to power. Last heard, the last episode of ‘Satyamev Jayate’ will have Aamir sorting out Manmohan Singh.

“With power, comes great responsibility” – Suresh Kalmadi (wait, he didn’t say that???)

May 15, 2012

Teenage, Boys???

2012-05-18T03:00:00.003-07:00

Teenage is highly overrated bullshit. Teenage, crudely, is somewhat similar to the feeling you get when you buy Titanic tickets to watch 3D boobs and then realize they censored it. The moral of the story is that you dont get what you expected (plus also that you dont get to see 3D boobs in India) Let me break up the 13 to 19 journey for you.

At 13, for boys, a 'below the knee-school-pant' symbolise their humble ascend to manhood. You enter High school, having attained from your peers, the knowledge of adolescent nirvana. Now you finally know storks dont deliver babies!! Halleluiah! Armed with this knowledge about human reproduction, now for you, girls are no longer the alien beings they used to be. If you couldn't look at them before, now you so want to! (albeit a little below their faces, of course) If you couldn't stand them before, now they make you stand! ( or at least parts of you ) Well, you better get used to this because this is something that you're gonna be doing for pretty much of your life. Well, for some, the transition from PokeMon to American Pie can be quite a 'jaw opener'.

Then in no time, you're in 10th and teachers treat you like a 4GB pendrive. You're sick of the rote learning. Thinking SSC might actually make a difference in your life is as farfetched as hoping himesh Reshamiya will win a Grammy. Relationships are suddenly the new cool - Its 'I-phone cool' ( Having one is so cool but you just dont know what to do with it) Its like your medium wala paanipuri - you just can't express the taste. The humiliated looks on the girls' face while looking at certain anatomical diagrams in the biology book make exaggeration look exaggerated. For godsakes, its not your vulva! Chill! You're at the cinema with your newly obtained 'girl friend', aiming to scale those twin peaks. Well..Someday. You harmlessly touch her hand and she shrieks "What are you doing?!!" "Nothing! Touching your hand!" And she says "Dont! Thats sex right!!!". Ignorance. Do NOT get in to a relationship when you're immature!

If school was like reading twilight, then college is like...err..reading breaking dawn. You start believing the teachers at practicals are hardcore Roadies fans, whose obsession drives them into enacting a Roadies audition in the lab every week. You wonder whether they stopped manufacturing those high tech gadgets called 'carbon paper' because you're tired coping an experiment in 5 different books, in 5 different manner. You miss the pen-drive phase because now they expect you to be external hard disks with in-built RAM. You miss the bimbo phase of girls because now your girlfriend is at your heels, shouting that her bra provides her more support than you do. Hell, they've grown.

Judging your career by your marks in one damn exam as absurd as casting Sunny leone in an Ekta Kapoor saas bahu soap. All the societal pressure on you makes you ask questions like that of a Yogi on the path of salvation. 'Why this life?' 'Why am I doing this? Theres no purpose'.'Why dont we screw the society?' (Maybe the last one wasn't Yogi-like) Rhetorical questions DONT have answers. (Try asking why are the Kardashians famous)

When you're approaching 18, you'll see those 'OMG! I'm gonna be 18!'ish friends. Why the hell would 18 be different I ask. I get a 'We can drive, vote and have sex' as the answer always. Unless you have BMW, have your own political party or have a girlfriend who says 'Come fuck me', eighteen is much ado about NOTHING.

Well, I have two years left as a teen. In the meanwhile, there remains no doubt in the next two years I'll be dragged through a lot of crap which the society and education system wil solemnly bestow me with. Let me tell you, I miss the innocence of the tot who used to be excited about wearing a long pant for school, rather than being harassed in the name of career and education. Whatever we do...howmuch ever we grow..we'll always look back for consolation...And you'll see that pre-teen child in you, waving back and asking you to go on....

"Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again." -- C.S. Lewis

May 14, 2012

Of Rat Races, And Mouse Traps...

2012-05-18T02:54:00.001-07:00

Its summer! The time when the flowers bloom, the crickets chirp, cricketers earn, aam starts selling, the aam aadmi starts yelling, animals emerge from their holes, Man-U count their goals, and the 17 year-old teen climbs up from the hell pit of 'Board exams' and err...jumps into another hell called 'entrances'..(sigh)

Hell, we write the board exam with the prospect of going home and hugging our CET book. Oh, how I missed them. Thats not all. Then you get a call from your dear coaching class asking you to drag your ass down there. And you're off...cursing them, mouthing shuddh hindi expletives faster than a Thane-CST fast. Colleges and coaching clases have a genuine sense of love for each other (Sarcasm? Nah!) They behave like they're Michael and Lucifer fighting the apocalypse. And in between, humanity (students) gets fucked. Midst the devil and the sea, you hate to be the vertex of the their love triangle. The coaching classes phenomenon has swept India. Their rankers list is the new page 3 for nerds. Integrated tie-ups give you the best (worst) of both worlds. Last heard, my neighbour plans to admit his 3 year old kid to an IIT institute with a nursery tie-up. The kindergarten teaches ABC, coaching staff teaches 123. No kidding.

Soon enough, you start losing track of how many entrances you write. Now thats because during most of them, all you end up doing is admire your fingerprint, practise your sign, pose for the video shoot and shade innovative designs on the OMR sheet. 28 state CETs, 100s of entrances for each 'elite', national and galli college...Screw the Unity in Diversity slogan!! In India whenever a college's ego gets to its head, the managemnt says 'lets get our own entrance exam! Wont that be fun?!', just the way a tot yearns for a tricycle. Then out comes the results and every who-the-hell-are-you face greets you with a 'beta, kitna aaya?' You put up a constipated look, while your mind secretely harbours the desire to slow torture the person. You HATE those fake, hyperbole-personified expressions on their damn faces. For every 'itna kam kaise aaya?', you want to slice the person or throw them into Mt. Fujiama or drown them in the Atlantic...or maybe all of these. Now I know how terrorists are born.

Now if you're not a student, you wont understand the amount of students vying for a seat. Lemme put this way, take the number of Kurla passengers in a 9:05 local and multiply it by a thousand. Now you get it, dont you? In short, the probability that you'll get a seat is lesser than India winning the FIFA, Baba Ramdev becoming the president, Kristen Stewart showing an expression, Rakhi Sawant winning the national award...Well, you got the point. In this rat race, the mouse trap of reservation is one that intimidates you immensely. 52% seats are reserved?!!! Fuck you. To kill casteism, you eradicate the caste system not promote it! For those of you quoting Ambedkar, the great man asked to implement reservations for 10 years, not a freaking 52 years. For godsake, Martin Luther King didn't go about implementing reservation for blacks. He demanded equality, not partiality. Obama didn't become preseident through reservations. Period. Media reports claim BCCI is planning to implement reservations in IPL. Every team will now have a backward class batsmen, bowler and all-rounder. (Get used to the sarcasm)

Dear Indian government,

'Reservation Policy' is the evolved form of 'Divide and Rule'. Give us our royalty, Sincerely, The British.

'Do you know' fact: MBBS stands for 'Bachelor of Medicine,Bachelor of Surgery' and NOT 'Bring Moolah, Bargain Seats'. The agencies selling seats actually make you nostalgic of that wadapav walaon the road. 'Hot deals! Hurry before the offers over!'. I'm pretty sure in a couple of years it'll be somewhat like "Buy a MBBS seat, get a PG seat free!" Cheapness. At times I wonder how these agencies cater to their clients. I can only imagine what they talk.

Client: Areyy bhaiya, 'raahdiology' ka kya bhaav hai?

Agent: Fakta 10 crore saheb.

Client: Aise kaise?!! Baju wala dukhaan me tho 8 crore bola tha!

Agent: 8 crore me aapko...Paediatrics milel saheb...aani gyanecology pan aahet..

Client: Kya farak hai dono me?

Agent: Kahich nahi hai saheb!...ek bacha la baghtho tar doosra kaadtho...

Client: Acha ek Gynaecology de dena..doosre me 'logy' nahi hai...sunne mein acha nahi lagtha...

Yet, we are the nation who're proud of our education system. From the grassroots to the elite, let me tell you, it sucks. Its not a 'grapes gone sour' thing, but a notion that every Indian student know is true in their minds....

He who opens a school door, closes a prison. Victor Hugo.

May 13, 2012

The Cliched Love Song.....

2012-05-18T00:57:00.000-07:00

Life’s antics are a thing to muse,

Its eeriness mutes the sceptic’s views;

I ain’t a monk to preach such words,

I embrace these truths as I look backwards……..

The day when my path crossed with yours,

As a stranger you knocked on my doors.

The casual talks marked the onset,

As our aimless talks stretched till sunset.

From stranger to a friend you grew.

You wrote a chapter in my life anew.

Through thick and thins, you stood by me,

In happy times, we shared our glee.

Your absence made me nostalgic.

A mere rendezvous acted like magic.

Why am I acting oblivious?

When my love for you is but obvious!

You talk about guys, who fell for you,

And say that I’m a friend so true.

Can I ever admit my love for you?

When a mistake can spell a friend’s adieu?

If only my heart was numb!

And my every tear was a gem!

If only you gave me a chance,

I assure we’ll have the best romance…

I can take this pain no more,

Its time I end this tragic lore.

My mind goes fickle when I see your face,

‘It’s now or never’, my heart says.

With fear, I stammer the secret I kept,

Your lips curl into a smile, unlike I fret….

‘I love you, idiot!’ you say; defying my sense!

And you joke whether it’s a coincidence!

Then we laugh how we knew it all along,

Seems fate gave music to my love song.

Life contradicts the pessimist in me,

As I pen down this song happily……

- December 18, 2010

Will You Be There To See Me Then???

2012-05-18T00:39:00.000-07:00

Its morning mom, please wake up soon.

You're sleeping since the previous noon.

Who'll kiss me before school now, mom?

Who'll watch me now, as I grow up, mom?

When that two-wheeled cycle I'll learn to ride,

I might often fall. Even get some bruises mild,

Then when I'll race it down the town roadside,

Wont you be there to see me then?

When in high school, I'll have exams to bear,

Will you be near and kill all my fear?

When grades come, will you hug your dear?

Mom, wont you be there to see me then?

When Grandma's huge piano, I'll learn to play,

I'll keep playing until those keys do fray,

I'll sing and let you have your say,

Wont you be there to see me then?

When from college, I'll graduate one day,

You'll cheer me there, come what may.

I'll spot your face from the stage, I pray.

Mom, wont you be there to see me then?

When once, I'll find a pretty girl for me,

I'll bring her home for you to see,

I'll tell you she's the girl I will marry,

Wont you be there to see me then?

Then I'll indeed buy a house for you,

You'll tell my kids, tales of how I grew,

We'll relish all memories, old and new.

Mom, wont you be there to see me then?

Mom, why had you to leave me all alone?

Who'll wipe my tears now, when I moan?

Why is death cruel and maketh us groan?

I wish you'd be here for me to see always.

There's no darkness. Its just absence of light.There's no death. Its just absence of life...

Thirteen Candles.

2012-05-18T00:34:00.000-07:00

Thirteen candles on your birthday cake,

You blow them, as a wish you make,

That teenage's fun, is merely a myth,

Let me tell you, its nothing but filth.

And If you're from India, the rising nation,

The land of temples, beauty and inflation,

where graduation just mean immigration,

And where emotional stress mean education.

They shove down our throats, textbooks raw,

College and tuitions maginify our every woe,

Like printing machines, we copy what they tell,

A dozen times until our bodies make us yell.

For all exams, we came, we saw, we failed.

Then we put on sad faces and wailed.

Then admission, the rat race for seats, begin,

And the backward classes are the ones to grin.

Our love escapades all go always wrong,

For love we long, but it never lasts long.

Your facebook status makes you cool,

fake an attitude or you're a fool.

Smoke and drink, then you're in, they say,

Have a girlfriend or else you're gay,

Guys turn flirts and girls turn sluts,

Ride a bike or you dont have guts.

Grab a guitar, flaunt it, grow your hair,

Say you're atheist, fall in a band snare,

Then make out in public, now thats the trend.

Splurge, get spoilt till it's hard to fend.

Careers are forced when we're five,

we're brought up like bees in a cultured hive,

Here passions die and job prospects rule,

You carry all burden like a labour mule.

They say, you're too young for a skirmish,

Yet, old enough to avoid acts, childish.

Your mood swings in and out against your wish,

You wish to break free from your niche.

That Thirteen's sinister; is a well known fact,

Teenage's a phase which needs just tact,

Childhood's gone; I'm on teenage saddles,

I wish I didn't blow out those thirteen candles.

I No Kill....

2012-05-18T00:14:00.001-07:00

'Here, take this gun', dad said to me,

He curled his beard with a look so cold,

A rock afar, was all I could see,

'Now aim and shoot bravely', he told.

I cast a glance upon my dad so brave.

Long and thin, a turban crowned his head.

His sweating face looked intense and grave,

I fired the gun and did what he'd said.

The rock shattered, he gave a smile,

Proud yet stunned, I stood there for a while.

'You'll go places ', said my beeming dad.

As a larger gun, he placed in my hand.

He made me climb rocks, tall and high.

As the sun scorched the whole Afghan sky.

On dart boards and marked boulders I shot,

With each new rifle, the better I got.

Turbans and armour they gave me to wear,

I got bruised and scarred, but shed no tear,

I learnt to fight with no guilt or fear,

Rather with bombs and similar gear.

To fight, they'd told me, and never flee.

Now guns and swords seemed fun to me.

Dad indeed loved the fighter in me,

But was that all, he could ever see?

Once to me, dad brought a weeping man,

With chains they tied him, as per the plan,

Dad did give me an assuring nod,

'Now aim and shoot bravely ', he told.

The man's watery tears dampened his cheek,

As I took my gun, pitying the man so weak.

But he begged and cried in a voice, shrill,

With a melting heart, I said, 'I no kill''.

I could destroy rocks, but no human soul,

From my shivering hand, the gun did fall

Angst and grief loomed on my dad's face,

As I searched my way through conscience's maze.

Dad raised his hand and slapped me hard.

I cried and cried but dad still was mad,

He picked the gun and shot that man,

As I saw cheers and laughs amongst the clan.

Rocks and dart boards shed no blood,

But the man's blood turned the ground to red,

A warrior I've been since my birth,

But in slaughter, I'd seen no great mirth.

Dad's thirst for blood , I saw that day,

I'd never want that thirst, come what may,

A warrior I am, but no slayer of man,

Beckoned my soul, to leave this clan.

On one fine day, some coins and a gun I took,

I ran away, past the mounts, to the brook,

Hunger, thirst and fatigue tormented me,

But far I ran, until they couldn't see me.

The chose the light in me, over the dark,

I chose the wise, shunned legacy's mark.

I chose not to destroy, as that's my will,

And all 'cause I'd said 'I no kill' .

Your choices make you what you are...

A Science Student's Lament.

2012-05-18T00:03:00.000-07:00

The by-product of yet more boring college lectures....:P

Gazed I, at the birds, flying high in the skies,

Their joy, the freedom! How blessed are their lives!

Sat me in my class, through lectures I detest,

How I wish to fly out of this torture's nest!

Laws of refraction reflected off my head,

The sines and cosines make my mind perplexed.

Structures of atoms and tissues seem a mystery,

Iota is way less complex than organic chemistry!

Math lectures appear to tend to infinity,

My boredom's 'not defined’, just like tan of ninety.

Functions, Para boles, and equations of locus,

How did I forget the god-damned calculus!

Orals, internals and assignments in dozen,

Just more crappy words to spell 'examination'!

Alpha to omega, for constants there's no room,

To be a science student is to invite obvious doom.

Foxes have holes, birds have nest,

And college canteens for students to rest!

Reading halls become the bunkers' ground,

Though attendance rules keeps us bound.

I want to integrate the joys of life,

And differentiate the painful strife,

This academic assault does give one stress;

May joys have continuity despite distress!

- September 9, 2010

The Crucifix.

2012-05-17T23:53:00.001-07:00

A wounded lamb I saw in my dream,

with bleeding hoofs, it limped towards the stream.

The leer of savage wolves it allured.

They pounced, slashed, and had its kill ensured.

Woke me from my sleep breathlessly,

'It ain't no dream’, said my mind vaguely.

The lamb was me and the pasture, life,

a bruised soul, circumscribed by extreme strife.

Flaws and faults were all I had,

I endeavored to have them unclad.

I tried so hard and got so far,

but perfection and success still seems afar.

Perfection's my aim; evolution, the path.

Never-ending aspersion building my wrath.

Disbelief chokes my soul as the dark ascends,

The hooded assailants turn out to be my friends.

Amidst crowds, yet I walk the backstreet.

Cared no one to open my heart and feel its beat.

A chance to prove my worth is all I need,

'With you ,till the end ',will then be my creed.

Hope's fading; I see the gallows,

But there's still time to end my woes,

Enough of shields, now it’s time for swords,

to fight back and be amongst the lords.

Stared I, at the crucifix across the room,

at Christ, the Lamb of God, the slayer of doom.

My worries shrink, hope filling my every breathe,

for there is a resurrection for every death.

- August 4, 2010

A Thousand Reasons Why I Love You.....

2012-05-17T23:47:00.000-07:00

At those cheesy cards and roses, I groan,

And at mindless morons, that romance spawn.

Love's a benumbed witch, I had presumed.

Yet, it killed all notions I'd ever groomed.

You think love's confined to the silverscreen,

But it stuns you, unlike things you've ever seen.

Why Love? My mind asked, 'Whats so great?'

I'll give you reason - a thousand, my mate.

When my eyes are moist and tears build,

You stop them and wont let them fall,

Then I'll tell you all my fears and guilt.

And you'll sort out all things, big and small.

When you smile, it makes me smile.

And when you frown, I do as well.

You're emotions drive my life all while,

We've been linked for life, I'll tell.

When we're near, and even if we hide,

It makes me blissful that you're just beside

When your skin gently rubs on my mine

I forget worries and feel all's just fine.

Have I told you I love the way you worry?

When you selflessly try to stop me being weary?

And when it's night, you're in my thoughts,

I Know you're mine and you love me lots.

When we're totally jobless, it feels so great.

We tease, irritate and talk till it's indeed late.

And when its rains and its wet and cold,

You're with me as we walk down the road,

I love those moments, have you I told?

'Coz they do make memories of gold.

I'm lucky to have you, who know me inside out.

I Know, you'll love me howmuch ever I've fought.

We're too similar, weren't we bound to meet?

Indeed fate weaved our story, clean and neat.

-August 16,2011

The Window Washer.

2012-05-17T23:01:00.001-07:00

A diadem of sweat droplets glistened brightly on the man's balding forehead. He wiped them off with his bare hands, as he immersed the water-dripping piece of rag, yet again into the bucket of smeared water. How he yearned for one of those rare and tranquil September winds.

Squeezing the excess water out from the cloth, he slid it horizontally on the window pane, scrubbing it in a habitual manner, which had by now, become quite monotonous to him. Yes, he was a window washer. One of those lowly, obscure jobs which any American would look upon with scorn and disdain. But as the man used to put it,'The job of a window washer is indeed like a dirty window. Unless you look beneath the dirt, you wont see how bright it is'.

The man loved his job. He lowered a couple of thick black cords with his large, muscular hands and the platform on which he stood, ascended up with a slight jerk. He looked down. He was at least a good 250 feet off the ground. High enough to infuse any brave guy with a sense of claustrophobia. The dangling large cords suspended his platform from one of the world's highest and most important buildings. The World Trade Center.

Washing windows, for the man, especially at the WTC had proved to be quite an intruiging job. Here every window told a story of its own. Ordinary tales of ordinary corporate slaves. Stories of people who keep their personal lives tucked under those formal suits. Yet, have to put up a struggle when it comes to confronting their self's alterego. Quite like any Hollywood flick, minus the glamour. Each window was a sneek peek into someone's life.

The man motioned to a colleague by lifting his hands, who readily tugged at the cords and pulled up the platform. He stared at the familiar window at the 40th floor. Now this was the window of whom he called 'The Joker'. The man looked at the skinny, long nosed person seated on the cushioned seat. The reason for him being branded 'The Joker' by the man was because, firstly, he resembled the Joker from Spiderman and secondly, whenever the man saw him, he was almost always playing cards.

Today Joker seemed different though. He wasn't engrossed in his usual gambling antics. Unusually weird, the man thought. The man looked around at Joker's cabin from behind the window. Soon enough, he spotted the reason for the Jokers no-card-playing, unusually-flambouyant mood. Hustled on the cushion to the cabin's right was a young boy of about four years. Judging from the face, it was almost certainly Jr. Joker, the man assumed. The boy ran his toy train along the fringes of the office's interiors. Joker's eyes were focussed solely on his playing son. They were engaged in the indulgance of that brisk innocence of the tot, which the man was sure, that Joker missed. Inevitable nostalgia tinged with a fatherly affection. It is such minute pleasures that renders a window washers day a happening one.

The man was finished with the 40th floor windows. The ascending platform jostled and consequently came to rest adjoining the 41st floor. This window belonged to the 'Asian Guy'. Quite aptly, the name merely reflected his origins. Perhaps, there didn't exist anything much special about this man to even coin a name.'Statistical Analyst' said the placard on his desk in a huge font, which could be read easily from a yard's distance. So the Asian Guy usually sat there the entire day, analysing stocks, buried in bundles of papers, his thin rimmed glasses almost touching them.

As the man realized, today it wasn't just the Joker who was in a different mood. If Joker was immersed in fatherly love for his child, so was the Asian guy. Just that the love wasn't fatherly but rather sensuous. He sat there in his chair, away from the window deep in embrace with a lovely young girl, absorbed in a tight liplock with her. His arms coiled around her waistline, her breasts tightly pressed against his lean chest. That mathematical nerd of the Asian guy, having a moment of his own, was indeed a moment to behold. The man, ascended further up, having scrubbed the windows in the proximity, leaving the obsessed-in-love couple in some privacy they deserved.

The window on the 42nd floor glowed brightly. He'd never before seen any activity in that particular room, except the maintenance workers who dropped in at regular intervals. As the man leaned in closer, he saw where the light was coming from. A brightly lit projector projected consecutive slides of a powerpoint presentation, on the wall, as a tall man in formal wear, pranced about the room, alone, waving hands vigorously in air. The man wondered whether he's schizophrenic. But then later realized that the never-before-seen man was rehearsing a presentation for some forth coming conference. He kept gesturing enthusiastically with his hands, as graphs and numbers popped up on the wall. He continued the aimless talking, stopping only momentarily to take a sip of a glass of juice kept on the table. He had a flame in him, guessing from his actions. The flame of ambition. The flame to climb up that evil, corporate ladder and soar to its heights.

The platform was pulled further up. The cords and cables lowered. The man peeped through 'Cinderella's window. With her amber, flowing hair, dove like complexion, and the lissome body, what else could you call that pretty woman? The man saw ribbons and oodles of gift wraps that lay scattered on the floor. On her chair, facing a huge portrait across the room, she sat gracefully. There was a somewhat big, cute teddy bear accompanying her, which she'd been trying to wrap up. The man wondered who the gift was for. Perhaps a daughter, though she seemed young to have one. Or maybe for a niece or some relative. Whoever it was for, when that tiny girl's gonna rip apart her gift wraps, she's surely have a wide grin on her face, he thought.

A colleague from below raised his hand, hinting a tea break. The platform was being lowered bit by bit. Suddenly, a buzzing noise reverberated through the air. Bees? The man thought. No, the sound was too loud for that. The whirling sound echoed sharply in his ears. The noise kept getting louder with every passing second. It wasn't getting louder, he soon figured. It was getting nearer. Now it seemed like a predating wolf nearing its prey. There in the distant horizon, a black speck appeared. A helicopter! A VVIP visit? The man thought. Perhaps a presidential visit at WTC? But the black monster came ripping through the air, straight at the tower, with no intention of lowering the altitude or averting a possible collision. The man covered his ears as the intensity of noise reached sky high decibels. The whirling rotors created ripples of wind currents which shook the platform, giving it a pendulum-like oscillation mid-air, at least forty storeys above the ground.

When the monster loomed inches away from the man, he knew he was drowning neckdeep in doom. He had no escape. They say you see flashes of images before death slowly digs its claw into your soul. In what he knew was the last few seconds of his life, what the man saw was the most bizzare images anyone could see. Images of people who he'd hardly seen through some translucent windows he'd washed. Disturbing images. Images of shattered dreams.

Now the Joker would never be able to share those father-son moments with his kid. He could never have the rare, nostalgic moments of enjoying that childish soul.

The Asian guy would never be able to rekindle his love story which barely took off. Perhaps, that liplock would've paved its way to something much more serious. He'd never feel how it is to feel loved.Now he wont ever walk down the aisle, hand in hand with that pretty woman.

The unknown guy would never earn a promotion. The corporate ladder he wished to surmount has been itself reduced to ashes. That flame of passion in him would die with him. That power point presentation would never see the light of the day again. His vigorous efforts, unnoticed,would be buried down with him.

And now there would be no one to rip open the subtly gift wrapped teddy. No wide grins, cute smiles or excitement. That little angelic moment of happiness would never manifest itself. Cinderella would miss basking in her moment of glory when she sees the toddler's happiness. And these were just four of the people from amongst the thousands of offices and rooms the tower housed.

The helicopter slammed its cockpit right in to the tower, merely a couple of metres above the man's head. An explosion of tremendous energy threw the man off the platform into the wide, open skies. As he plunged down the heights of the WTC, he saw the tall tower, the pride of Americans, burst into flames. Hundreds of dreams shattered. A tiny drop of tear drop shined at the corner of his eye like a bright diamond as he surrendered to the ever prevailing gravity.

Some stories are relentlessly ended before they encounter their climax. Maybe if the man in the helicopter who ripped apart these souls would've seen what the window washer had seen from behind the windows, he would've had a second thought before he washed down all these stories like those drops of smudged water that trickles down a washed window pane....

Unusual 'Weirdess'

2012-05-17T22:40:00.000-07:00

After hurriedly exiting the ARCHIES shop, I slowed down my pace briskly, paused for a moment and stared at the splendid twilight sky, which cloaked the station below. I stuffed the newly-bought, gift-wrapped teddy into my college bag and continued to walk towards the station. My soul was brimming with a never-before-felt sense of satisfaction today. I found myself venturing inside my head, in search of a logical reason for the unusual happiness of my usually pessimistic mind. As I climbed up the congested pedestrian bridge of the station, it suddenly dawned upon me! I’d just purchased a teddy to gift someone on a Valentine’s Day! Now I didn’t see that one coming!

Teenage guys-let me tell you-are the weirdest species of creatures that ever walked Planet Earth. The puppets of circumstances, connoisseurs of contradiction, incarnations of recklessness and carelessness….adjectives won’t suffice! Yes, I’m (proudly) one among those confused millions. We pretend to be men, while being boys at heart. We pretend that we don’t give a damn to anyone, when we actually do. We say the opposite of what we mean and then end up getting badly screwed! In short, we’re the crazy lot!

But the one thing that leaves us baffled is the concept of ‘love’. Yes, the mere 4-letter word leads our eternally perplexed, crazy minds to a state of mental anarchy. Maybe diversity is the culprit here. The ‘Shakespearean’ and ‘Twilight’ish concept of love, followed by the ‘relationship freaks’, the ‘survival of the flirtatious’ theory perpetuated by the casanovas, the ‘hunt for carnal pleasure’ ideology of the lustful playboy pack to mention a few. And then there is the ordained dynasty of guys who are averse to these lame ideas of love, which includes me too.

But trying avoiding love and it chases you with a vengeance! Maybe it’s something that the human race is blessed/cursed with, right from the onset of creation. Blame Adam’s rib for that! The truth is that every drop of testosterone in us does crave for that feminine shadow, no matter how much we deny it. Didn’t I mention the contradiction beforehand? The presence of a girl is what makes us masculine. Well, I’m not pulling up a ‘John Gray’ act. But something called experience, forces this out of my mouth! A unique blend of leg-pulling, teasing, sarcasm, jobless talks, infused with the affection and care of a girl can beat any love potion in this world! Yes, these terms used are not exactly the ones you use with ‘love’ in the same sentence. But trust me; this is a new ideology that I’ve found- ‘Unusual Love’. The patent still awaits me!

Once upon a time, there lived a weird guy, who wondered whether he was the only one with a weird mind. Yes, that guy was ME. And then the weird guy met a weird girl by pure coincidence / heavenly intervention, whose weirdness index was compatible with his. Opposites attract-that’s what Science says. But stupid Sciences always have exceptions! So, soon the weird guy started feeling a weird emotion called ‘love’. For the later part of the story, just take the same, old clichéd love story and add some more sarcasm, leg-pulling, teasing and jobless talks!

This weird girl was the one who led me to the concept of ‘unusual love’. I saw in her someone with whom I can shed all my inhibitions, Indulge in stupidity, behave childish, fight for no reason, irritate for fun and love ceaselessly. Moreover she was the one whom I could rightly call ‘MY girl’. She was the person who could look right through my mind, see my problems clearly and sort them out effortlessly as if I’m one of those transparent mirrors you use in Physics lab! So, ultimately, that bit of the apple stuck in Adam’s throat, was bitter or better for the male race? Seems it’s meant to be a mystery!

Yes, so I realized that this ‘unusual love’ is what has wrapped itself around my pessimistic mind this evening, which gives it the ‘sense of satisfaction’. As I descended the bridge and walked towards my coaching classes, I felt my mobile vibrate. I opened the inbox to see the message which said, “Hey Have Fun @ classes! :D”. I smiled stupidly at the phone before putting it back in to my pocket. Entering the classroom, I prepared myself mentally to battle the boredom which ‘Complex Numbers’ was gonna torment me with, for the next two hours.

February 17, 2011

Down, But Not Out.

2012-05-17T21:56:00.001-07:00

The climb's been too hard.....so long.....too bad....

And now I am here..too close....so near...I’m glad...

I see the light! Yeah..I’m gonna win this fight!

Then the ground gave in and down I fell...

Into an abyss of terror, into hell...

I lay in the dirt...this sure does hurt...

A helping hand I crave...but is this my grave?

I must've gone down.....but I'm not yet out.

This ain't for what I fought!

"I'll win”, I scream out!

I must've gone down......but I'm not yet out....

My past has been so wrong....too lone...so cruel...

The soul inside is so dark....so scarred...too null...

All I need is a day brighter...a day to live as a true winner!

To conquer all heights and touch the skies..

From this hell, I need to rise...rise...

I lay in the dirt...this sure does hurt...

A helping hand I crave...but is this my grave?

I must've gone down.....but I'm not yet out.

This ain't for what I fought!

"I'll win”, I scream out!

I must've gone down......but I'm not yet out....

I lay in the dirt...this sure does hurt...

A helping hand I crave...but is this my grave?

I'm down but not out...

I'll fight till my last breath...

I'm down but not out....

Till my very death....

September 13, 2010

The Xiphos

2012-05-17T21:44:00.001-07:00

David Miller relaxed on the couch, as he savored his habitual evening tea. His mind was swaying between the various dilemmas life was hurling at him invariably. His life had been a colossal failure. Not only did he failed to usurp his own dreams, but also he had brought down the expectations others had of him. Diagnosed with a rare cardiac disorder, his younger sister was in the hospital awaiting her apocalypse. Surgery was the only way out. The elixir of life for her. But drowning in a sea of debts as he was, obtaining such hefty amounts within a limited time was near impossible.

David's eyes unknowingly found their way to the carton which the deliveryman had dropped off in the morning. His anger and concerns prevented him from even opening the carton. David unwillingly ripped of the packaging and his eyes caught a glimpse of a guitar. A fiery Xiphos guitar. He took it out and clearly examined it. The initials 'D.N' scratched on the mahogany body almost instantly grabbed his attention. It wasn't any guitar. It was HIS red Xiphos. David glanced at the date on his wrist-watch. It hit him like a bolt of lightning. It was that fateful day - the day which foiled his life plans two years ago.

David was re-encountering those days in his mind....music was in his blood, guitars were his passion. And he was among those fortunate few who have a dearest friend to share his passions with. Neal and David had been the best of buddies since high school. The dream of being in the elite group of rock bands and the awesome Xiphos guitar were among the central things that the duo shared. Rivalry never ceases to exist in friendships, however intense they might be. Indeed be it gaining popularity in high school or getting the hottest girl in college, Neal and David proved they were rivals too. And Neal emerged the winner in these trivial competitions almost always. Pragmatically, David had to forfeit his dream of starting a band for the time being and instead concentrated himself on getting a jog and a stable life. But, existing on a hand-to-mouth survival, David generated enough money for him and Neal to kick-start their music career. He was truly on cloud nine......And then one day, the large amount of money suddenly went missing from his vault, along with his treasured guitar. But they weren't the only things missing. Neal was gone too......David never lodged a complaint against him or tried searching him. He was sure that somehow, one day Neal will return with the money. He trusted him. Though that never happened .The piercing voice of the ringing telephone brought David back into reality. Not another bad news of Linda, he thought.

The phone call was nothing like he had ever expected. The hospital administrators had called to inform him that the expenses of the surgery had been paid in full by someone. David was unable to comprehend this. A miracle of sorts. Though miracles don't repeat, truly a miracle streak followed in the days to come. Someone paid off all his debts, saving him from the impending financial doom. David was convinced of Neal's role in these happenings. Conjuring up his investigative mind, He started his search for a long lost friend.

Days later, his search finally culminated at the doors of a small house in East Texas. This was the address of Neal's girlfriend - the only clue so far about Neal. A beautiful lady greeted David at the door. She introduced herself as Kate Watson. She was carrying an infant in her hands. Kate agreed to take David to where Neal was. Finally, the rendezvous with Neal, he thought. On the car journey, Kate kept telling him how highly Neal used to speak about him. The journey ended on the outskirts of an old Texas church. Kate walked past the church and beyond it into the wide open space engulfing the church. He was getting confused as to where Kate was leading him to.’There he is”, said Kate pointing at a newly dug grave. David silently moved towards the tombstone and gazed at it with transfixed eyes as the tombstone read, “Neal Jones: 1983 - 2010".

Kate broke into tears as he looked on."He never intended to deceive you”, she cried."He took the money so as to treat my leukemia. I got cured. But the deadly disease took Neal as it's victim. It was too late for anything. She is the only thing he has left me with”, she wept clutching the child tight.."He came to know about your sister's condition and was distressed. Before he left this soil, he made the arrangements for re-paying you for the offence he committed in advance. That’s how he was all the time"

David felt as if an actual Xiphos sword just pierced his heart. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he read the epitaph engraved on the tombstone, ‘I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith -2 Timothy 4:7''In life u always outplayed me Neal, and so u did even in death’, he thought.

Often we end up hating people for our lives and realize their love only when it’s too late. Let us cherish our friends and say them a 'BIG thank you' while they are still on earth with us.

- July 22, 2010

Blut und Ehre - Blood and Honour.

2012-05-17T21:38:00.000-07:00

Kurt Bormann stood with his head held high against the backdrop of the setting sun. Nobody would fail to make out the unusual smirk on his usual expressionless face. The deafening gunshots of snipers rifles and the consequent grenade attacks marked the arrival of the Hitler youth in yet another German village."Go ahead, bastards!’ Bormann said to himself, “you won’t find the trace of even a damn fly here!"

Kurt, a bigwig among the soldiers in Hitler Youth, was nothing less than a Nazi version of the classic Robin-hood. Fuhrer Der Juden. The leader of the Jews. That’s what the Semites called him. Kurt had been alerting the Jews about every possible Nazi raid hitherto. Indeed the next 'messiah of the Jews' after the Christ. This raid was no different. Kurt let a sigh of relief as the commander cursed his luck for perhaps the hundredth time.

"I'll butcher that bloody traitor, the redeemer of those goddamn Jews myself when I drag him out of his hiding!" roared the angry commander, whose unsuccessful raids were arousing suspicion among the seniors that he himself was 'the traitor’. The soldiers expressed their fury over the failed raid by rampaging the village. Every house burnt down. Farms destroyed, making it impossible for an observer to make out that it was the same peaceful village that stood there minutes ago. Kurt was hearing his colleague's 'theories' about the 'traitor' as the soldiers dragged an 8-year old girl out from a ghetto. Her face resembled that of an angel, in contrast to those demons dragging her. ‘Must be an orphan’, sympathized Kurt. As she was being taken to the base, Kurt wondered how those tears couldn't melt the hearts of these people. Devils they were. But, ultimately mere humans. Blut und ehre, blood and honor, their motto said. Slaughter of a child an honor? Bullshit, he thought.

Kurt glanced uneasily at the locked door, as he passed by it for having his dinner. He could almost hear the cries of the little girl in his head. As he was having the keys, Kurt opened the door ensuring no was around and peeked in. The poor thing was fast asleep, unaware of the horror that awaited her. Those gas chambers.... Kurt's mind raced back in time a few years ago. He was having a tryst those terrible days again in his mind. The sexual liaison with his childhood sweetheart, unfortunately a Jew, forcing both his girlfriend and their 3 year-old child to go into hiding. But it wasn't long before the Nazi storm troopers found them and had them slaughtered. The very reason Kurt joined the Hitler Youth. Not because of the love for nation. Rather because he didn't want to witness the carnage of thousands of innocent Jews. ‘I must help her' Kurt thought, his mind back in reality.

Midnight. Kurt hurriedly carried the sleeping child on his shoulders to Lake Hennessey. He had made the necessary arrangements for getting her out safely from this abyss. Kurt looked around and making sure he was not being watched, placed her softly in the boat that waited near the lake. ‘Enjoy freedom' Kurt whispered into her ears, before kissing her on the forehead. The boatman silently rowed through the beautiful, blue waters of the lake. Kurt saw the boat disappear and smiled in a pleased manner.

"You son of a bitch!” cried an infuriated voice behind him. Kurt turned back to see the fiendish look on his commander's face."You tried to frame me?!Who thought that I will be leading the smartest of my men to the gallows? The traitor is destined to die.” he cried, firmly clutching the pistol in his hands.

"You won’t have to”, laughed Kurt. He was convinced there is no way out because soldiers were approaching him from the camp. Obviously, as per the commander's orders. Then Kurt took a decision."You won’t have to”, repeated Kurt. He slid his hand into his pocket and took his luger p08 pistol out. He pointed it at himself. Smiling at the soldiers around him, he pulled the trigger. Kurt yelled in pain as his body fell into the lake making the blue waters suddenly turn dark red.

At least I could save the poor thing, he thought while enduring the last spasms. He was on his way to death and she, on her way to freedom. Blut und ehre.

- July 15, 2010

Ne Plus Ultra! - FIFA-10

2012-05-17T21:30:00.001-07:00

From across the field, the golden cup stared at me and laughed.

The tournament, the finals; so near yet so far.

The ticking clock, absence of goals-certainly not the apt.

The brunt of fierce forwards failed to leave a scar.

The eerie silence of the crowd, made the heartbeats yet louder.

Every passing minute, and the midfielder in me grew weaker.

The fatigue, the spasms! The rough fight had done its work.

Fouls, injuries and the last-minute strains. Could the match be more berserk?

Every night I dreamed, and fancied about being here,

Finally, the moment's here. But it’s not possible I fear.

The hopes of nation rests on us. The perfect time to prove my worth.

I can’t let the nation down. Ought to be chances to unearth.

The fast-paced end frightened me. Now it's up to destiny.

Always been the underdogs. Now one chance 2 taste glory!

The failure, the disgrace! Wish there was a way out.

Ran the striker towards the net, the crowd stood up to shout!

From all the sides, the defenders came. But still he shot ahead the ball,

His aim wasn't the net. Rather, the ball was aimed at MY feet.

Now it was all up to me. Felt like time just froze us all.

I kicked the ball with all my might, past the goalie and into the net!

Crowd from silence to applause, team mates threw me high in air.

Under-achievers to champions. Seems a fairy tale I swear!

This was the feeling I dreamt of and finally success was mine.

All the glory bowed down at my feet. Almighty, these deeds are thine!

Holy god has made life tough, a battle for success it is,

Obstructions are meant to come and destroy pleasures and happiness.

Power of hope, does work wonders. The ultimate shield of life it is.

Enlightened is the one who fights his fears; success is the virtue he possess!

- July 12, 2010