Showing posts from 2006


Magnificent are the thundering antlers of the mysterious stag Oats and barley, golden fields, invigorating too Rare be such beauty, admire, that man dares to Ere you speak, take time to read every letter, every word Lest jest sometimes makes peacocks of a macaw Even maelstrom or tempest occasionally looks lo Fruits no longer edible directly; what are they best for To eat or excite, to feel or delight?! ok “Leave! Now! “, I bellowed at the gorgeous blonde in front of me, as I forced her into a taxi. She looked at me with large innocent brown eyes, searching for some semblance of pardon, love or even hope. She had been forgiven. I think. But I had never loved her. I think. And there was no hope for her. I think. “Your mouth speaks a language unintelligible to your heart. You don’t actually want me to leave, do you?” she questioned, raising her eyebrows and smirking simultaneously. I sneered. “I don’t care for you; I never did. I just used you. Like everyone else”, I lied. She could


Won't you forget about me? For the ignorant, that's from the soundtrack of an amusing movie I happened to see last night. Breakfast Club . Lovely movie. Like Syriana, which also I watched (albeit for the second time) yesterday. I had planned to get my final report done or the No Dues process started. Safe to say neither task got done and hence procrastinated to today. So much of work to do, and I actually feel sleepy and bored. Sleepy but not sleepworthy sleepy. Its complicated. "I knew that I wanted to do my best. In the extreme weather conditions, I kept my nerves to get the quota. " Thus spake Rathore, the double trapper. Unfortunately, I happened to just read the last part and assume he too is voicing his opinion on the current reservation typhoon hitting our country. Baboons we have in New Delhi running the operations. Thank God for some intelligent souls like Narayana Murthy . I am strongly against the reservation system using castes. I am strongly for re

C'est la vie

I was sitting in my home listening to CDs of my father's college reunion music, so basically the 70s. I was amazed. For the songs weren't obscure esoteric songs long forgotten by time. Nay. They were in fact the very songs I have been listening to these 4 years at IIT. Come Together (Beatles), Have You Ever Seen The Rain (CCR), Smoke Over Water (Deep Purple), Imagine (John Lennon), Annie's Song (John Denver) and other such wonderous songs. Again, and again. Has music not transgressed the Rocking Seventies? Sure, there have been other bands (Read Cold Play) who have made their mark since three decades ago but nothing to the tune of the classics. I suppose, for me, ever since I was introduced to Simon & Garfunkel, ever so long ago, there was no looking back. Or maybe, this is more an endemic thing. To the insti. For once I was asked a question pertaining to my musical tastes. I was asked as well as B (Cummander B). Both of us had answers which revolved around bands at

Requiem for a Blog…. Naah, You’re a Rockstar!

Ok so it’s not going to be a song. It’s supposed to be more like a sad post. I’ve thought about ending this blog for some time now. With a killer of a post. A post, that centuries later, aficionados and patrons of literature and art will still hail as the greatest achievement of man. After the Mona Lisa. But then, naah. Why kill something when, for all practical reasons, it will probably die a natural death by itself. I’ve always thought I should have had a different blog site address because this one not only reminds me of college but also of a name I shall no longer go by. And that is quite disheartening. Which is why I wanted to commit blogicide. But then I thought to myself, with the kind of schedule I have lined up, I probably won’t have time. Which, in a way, is good. I think I’ve done enough squandering of precious Time through myriad practices of procrastination, devoted prayers to Morpheus and Hypnos and other such (and more) blasphemous activities. Which is al

Bittersweet Symphony

I slowly opened my eyes and looked around at the three colleagues of mine. I was smiling awkwardly as I tried studying the face of the person in front of me. He seemed quiet and serene. Tranquil. The person to my right seemed to have his eyes wide open as he gave a spaced over vibe. The last individual had already succumbed to the exercise. I closed my eyes and lost myself to amusing reveries. One of the first images that come to my mind, is the mess top of my hostel. It has been different things at different points of time during my short sojourn at the institute. Seen me as a guileless young second year, as a somewhat matured albeit happy-go-lucky third year and finally as the unequivocal profound wise man as the fourth year. Yet through it all, it has been my oasis in the confusion and problems of everyday existence. Yogasana. We had picked up this hobby hardly a few months back. To counter the stress and tension we faced at office diurnally. Personally I had never realize


The ball was finally with me. I steadied myself as I looked up to see the goalpost. Half the field away. And with three defenders dieing to charge at me. I put the ball forward and thought to myself, “This is your chance. Your opportunity to prove yourself. To the world around you. To everyone. To her.” I dribbled past the first, then a swift movement past the second, faked a shot and beat the third. It was me and the goalie. One on one. What seemed like eternity then, happened in a split-second. I saw the anxious goalie unsure of whether or not to make a run out of his spot on the white line. I made up my mind, took aim and shot… Finally, his dreams were coming true. Here was a friend, who in spite of being the most talented person I have ever met, had surrendered his dreams and settled on more pragmatic ambitions. Goals that needed their dedication and diligence no doubt, but were mere asteroids in the galactic possibilities that entailed as a result of his enviable skills. Goal


First day. Decided to watch the likes of Fart Box, KD and Nitya play football in the quadrangle. Sat down. A quarter hour later, the seniors join me for what was then going to be my first introduction session. Fortunately or otherwise, an addled Approx, also enters the discussion of his own free will. Of course, back then he didn’t know that he would be given such a name. I was given a short lived nick name which is better left to the imagination. Night and room number 268 has all its three residents settling in for their first night in the institute when an abrupt knock disturbs them. Opening the door, reveals none other than Torso, also not yet privy to his nick. Torso pleads to spend the night in our room since none of his roommates had turned up. We concede to his request. Torso, as infamous as he is now, spends his first ever night, sleeping on two tables. Some nights later, in the company of many esteemed seniors, am in the 5 th wing. Many things transpire. Helmet is born

The Answers to The Ultimate Question Of Life, the Universe and Everything

I’m sitting in the Patisserie with friends when K shows up and asks, “Do you want to hear a joke?”. Innocently enough we acquiesce. K continues, smiling, “There is this large village where it rains a lot. When it rains, it causes floods. Now, there are two girls, Gita and Sita, who wish to cross a river overflowing due to the floods. There are two ways to cross the river, one, a strong stable bridge which takes you comfortably to the other side. The other option being to swim through the crocodile infested river and the strong currents. Gita peacefully crosses safely by walking across the strong stable bridge whilst Sita toils and slogs across the river, fighting off the reptilian monsters. However, the dumb Sita is adjudged to be the smarter of the two, why?” As he ends, emphasizing on the last word, we, the listeners, are left befuddled. Looking blankly into each other, we try to hypothesize an answer but to no avail. Finally as we surrender to his grinning face, K replies, “Its quit


Jimmy went through the wine menu one last time before he chose a Beaujolais . Only after he had ordered the expensive uncommon vino, did he realize that he didn’t know whether the person who was going to join him would even drink wine. Cursing his irrational thinking process, he decided to take a chance and stick with his call. Drinking wine was nothing to be ashamed about. The restaurant was dimly lit and honeyed romantic tunes played supporting cast to the several ornamental candles that adorned the tables. This was definitely more a lover’s spot than a rendezvous for two friends. Friends? More like two individuals who used to be friends and have not met each in over 5 years. Jimmy was growing impatient with every irritating minute that passed by as he waited. He started playing with the fork and his spoon much to the chagrin of the other patrons of the bistro. At one point, he got so loud that he was treated to the harsh cold stares of two sisters who had incidentally co

The right place, The right time, The right words

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.I was hyperventilating. I tried to calm myself down. Closed my eyes. Inhaled a long whiff of air. Exhaled. I hate when this happened. When I start breathing excessively hard. Which is usually a result of some haunting dream. I tried recollecting the dream and as usual, my efforts were in vain. I sat up and searched the table for my glasses. After fumbling around a bit, I found them. I put them on. I looked at my watch for the time. It was 3:27 am. My sleep was very much disturbed. I opened the door and made my way to a favorite retreat, my balcony wall. Sitting on the parapet, I stared at the waning moon. I was in two minds. Should I call her now? Something told me not to, not to wake her up as such an inhuman hour. But then I had to. I dialed her number and watched the flashing fluorescent screen as it tried to connect. Shortly afterwards, I placed the phone to my ear and heard the melodious song she had re

Efil – Life backwards

Wouldn’t it be great if the whole circle of life was reversed? I mean, look at the way we live our lives – we have the best of times in our childhood and great times at the threshold of entering the world of adults. The remaining part of our dutiful lives is spent toiling at some place earning loads of money to buy expensive clothes and splurge in exotic foods and other such nefarious worldly pleasures but never as happy as when we were during the innocence of our younger days. I read a comment of a comedian some time back and this inspired me to muse that all is not right with the way we age. In fact, it would be much more fraught with meaning and significance, not to mention enjoyable and gratifying, if only the whole circle of life was turned on its heels. Here’s the right way to do it. You enter this lovely world as an octogenarian or a nonagenarian or if you have enough good karma from your previous births, you could even be a centurian. Straight into an old-age home. Yo

To see your face again

It had been a stressful day at the office today. The kind of day that made you loosen your tie. I decided to take a walk through the Park before I drove home. Helped me to calm down. The closest that you can get to pure air in the polluted confines of the City. As I was walking through the stone pathway canopied by the trees, I caught a glimpse of a face which was vaguely recognizable. Could it be? Was it possible? Her? A blast from the past so to speak. It was her. By now, I was no longer walking but just staring. She too had now seen me. Either she was dumbstruck that a total stranger was gawking at her or she too had finally realized that it was me. After what seemed like an eternity, she smiled. I breathed a sigh of relief. I walked up to her jauntily with a smile that eclipsed that of the Cheshire cat. She was still having the same pleasant expression on her face. The same expression, the same face. She had hardly changed. It had been quite a long time since I had last


There are just some days in our lives in which you feel you think you are in complete control. You know the purpose of your living or indeed the absence of it. Perhaps you think life is for the greater good of the greater number, as preached by Utilitarianism or quite conversely, you belong to an Egoistic school of thought and would rather dedicate your life to your own selfish needs. Fair. To each his own. The other day I was talking with this Prof and he, although highly appreciative of my current inclination to take up a job, was trying to convince me to try for the Civil Services. But to me, from all the interaction I’ve had with people from this field, the Indian Administrative Services is a thankless job. I feel that you give in too much, without expecting anything in return. Altruistic. Perhaps, one day I would want to pursue such a career and in fact, I might even regret not considering it now. But, I mused that it would be far more grievous if I were to take up that physi

Me, Myself and Dr. Frasier Crane

Ahh, madness. This final semester is getting to be painfully peaceful. You know the oxymorons you hate? This one scores pretty high up there. Having no responsibilities or commitments is brilliant, its like a second chance at childhood. But then after a while, the humdrum daily monotony gets on your nerves. A great way to beat the same is movies and sitcoms. Off late, Frasier helped me tackle a couple of weeks of boredom but he was ably supported by the likes of Munich and Syriana, which by the way are amazing must-see movies. I got to see two seasons of Frasier, the 7 th and the 8 th and in case you’re wondering if the 8 th season of Frasier was indeed the last one, like I thought before venturing on this voyage, you’re mistaken. Apparently there are 3 more seasons, which I came to know off only after I watched the last episode of the 8 th season with bated breath and a ready-to-say-“aww” attitude. When the episode ended abruptly and at loose ends, my worst fears, well tempor

Of Men and Oneirisms

A writer’s life is a difficult one. Recalcitrant and demanding. He knew that. It was nearly six months since he started the arduous task of penning his book. His literary masterpiece. Six months of pure solitude and seclusion, perhaps to the point of self-imposed ostracizing. The chapters toiled for, the struggles relentless. Every once in a while he needed some fresh air. To clear the lungs. A dingy log cabin does that to your system. The park at the edge of the woods was the perfect remedy. A remedy or a nostrum? Well. In any case, he helped himself to one every couple of weeks. It was like any other time. The hint of sunlight creeping through the enveloped evening sky as the solar reign made way for the brilliance of night’s darkness. A couple of birds flew against the receding reddish-orange Sun. The water in the lake was as placid as ever. There waited his bench overlooking this magical “triviality” of Nature. Usually it would be empty. Almost no one made their way t

Goodbye my lover...

Goodbye my lover. Goodbye my friend. You have been the one. You have been the one for me. The first time I saw her, I did not know how to feel. There was this emptiness which manifested itself and as soon as I realized that it was there, it was quenched by her. Those days, I spent all my waking hours with her. I was always physically drained but forever mentally charged. Ready for her. I felt her and knew she felt me too. It was one of those miraculous events that change your life. She was. She was beautiful. I've kissed your lips and held your head. Shared your dreams and shared your bed. I know you well, I know your smell. I've been addicted to you. The second time was different. It was a more intellectual interaction. Not many people get to feel what I did. Don’t mistake me; I had the time of my life. It was brilliant. Perhaps not comprehendible by everyone; not enjoyable by all. But our relationship showed shades of reaching places I had never been befor

Type type

Recently, a friend insisted that I visit a blog on a claim that the posts on the before-mentioned did not make any sense to him. I did grace the blog with my presence shortly afterwards, expecting at most a gigantic chaotic pile of complex lexical convolutions. But fortunately or otherwise, that wasn’t the case. I chanced upon this post whose words though making sense individually, well pretty much *sense*, seemed to be carefully constructed in such a way that a normal human being, well versed in the ways of the English language would find himself despondently hopelessly and downright miserably lost in the mother of all preposterous ludicrous labyrinths. That is mildly putting it, of course. Well, moving on. While reading a couple of other equally entertaining posts, we decided to read the comments, the numerical count of which seemed always to belittle Abraham Lincoln’s oft-repeated figure. Relieved was I as there were many a spam comment dancing away to glory, probably a just com

Reality leaves a lot to the imagination

The difference between reality and fiction? Fiction has to make sense. The deal with reality is that most of the time, quite tersely put, life is funnier than fiction. It sure-as-hell is stranger than it. But alas, as a poet would put it rather sweetly, we have no time to stand and stare. It is of utmost necessity to one’s health, nay, sanity, to relish the simple pleasures that is offered to us as part of the daily life that we live. Iit’s the small eclectic day-to-day delights that overwhelm the ostentatious or substantial successes that grace us with their presences, albeit meagerly and insufficiently. The day a hot cup of tea loses its taste, is the day you lose your soul to the devil… In light of this philosophical knowledge, not really new-found yet perhaps newly realized, I decide it best to recount two interesting and perhaps even humourous anecdotes from the life of yours truly. I begin. (A prelude to this story must include the fact that the following is

The Thin Line

Dear Diary, Today school was quite boring save for a very strange happening. As is evident, my rather colourless life in this strict no-nonsense Boys-And-Girls-Are-Forbidden-Even-Visual-Contact-School, has steered away from the mention of any young guys. But today I had the utmost displeasure of meeting one of these guys. The topper of the boys’ school, in fact. Usually I try to contain my disgust at meeting repulsive people but then again who else could possibly be reading my diary. (Except my somewhat rude and brusque brother…) This guy, let us call him ST, can best be described as resembling the underbelly of a frog. Make that an ugly frog. And the worst part was that I think he liked me. I had the funniest feeling he kept stealing glances at me… Yuck! … Dear Diary, After a long time, I am finding some hidden enthusiasm to study! Perhaps it’s because I am doing so well in school that all of a sudden all I want to do is pick up some book and start learning and revisi