San(')s Sanity

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 before...

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...

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...

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...

I woke up on January the first as usual. Casually I walked around the house, picking up the newspaper to read leisurely as is my daily routine. Needless to say, my sister and parents were already all dressed up and watching television. I think. Is the New Year a very important festivity? The ones debating for the topic claim it represents the blossoming of a completely pristine, hopefully joyous, set of 12 months or 52 weeks or any such numerically acceptable time period. The opposition rebuke that 1 st January is as good or bad as any other of the 365 alternatives and that it need not be entitled to any special status. It represents a time to make resolutions? Resolutions made on Feb 23 rd are as good as those made on New Years. To the best of my knowledge it has no planetary basis and is, much like how the birthday of Jesus, Christmas was chosen to best fit the people’s interests to further the propagation of the religion, celebrated on an universally convenient date. Cl...

Wednesday It was almost time. Two sets of interviews had already passed and for some even more. And they were taking its toll on all the eleven of them. He looked around at these familiar faces and saw the nervousness etched on their otherwise placid countenances. He was anxious too. He smoothened his blue “psychedelic” tie, as it was later referred to. He didn’t like ties too much. Soon enough, a representative ushered them in to announce the final results. An inevitable note of the ostensible difficulty faced by the interviewers ensued. Get on with it, he thought to himself. Then, he saw it. Clenched delicately in the speaker’s hand. His name, written in black, through the translucent white slip of paper, in its untarnished entirety. He didn’t have to wait for the official read. He was elated and overjoyed but only breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Later, he shook hands with the others, throughout maintaining his cool. He even remembered to congratulate the other two, B ...

*Click* I was tapping my fingers softly on the table as I waited for the messenger to load. If the net was fast, it usually signed in quite quickly but unfortunately today it was taking its sweet time. I glanced into the adjacent mirror and adjusted my rather unkempt hair. As soon as it signed in, I searched for her name in the buddy list. Dejected on noting the absence, I decided to check my mail. She’ll be online soon, I consoled myself. She said so herself, I reassured. Five minutes later, I was relieved when I heard the familiar sound of someone signing in. Me: Hi di! Priya: Hey da, how are you? Me: I’m fine. You? Priya: Me too. Me: Good. So wassup? Priya: I just finished seeing American Beauty… Me: One of my most favourite films. Did you like it? Priya: Yeah! I really liked it… Me: Super… Priya: But there was one dialogue I didn’t like though… Priya: As in, I don’t think it was correct. Me: Which one :-/ Priya: Well, ...

"Molly, do you believe in witches and wizards?", asked Ken, rather nonchalantly, as they sat down on a bench overlooking the placid Lake Trepton. "Witches? Wizards? What do you mean?", retorted Molly , as she turned towards him, with a quizzical look on her face. "Well, like those in the classic movies. The Lord of the Rings. Harry Potter. Chronicles of Narnia." "I suppose I don't believe them. I mean, I would like to believe..." Keb interrupted her, "Pity. Wouldn't it be rather cool if they true? The creatures, the mystical artifacts, all those stuff in the books..." "Books? I thought you were talking about some movies?" "Molly dear, all of them are books made into movies. Surely you have read the books?" "No, I havent. I have seen all the movies though. I really like the Lord of the Rings trilogy..." "That is quite sad. You haven't read the books? Those masterpieces of literature. Their a...

I really am surprised. The invisible wings of time have flown past at such a ridiculous speed. It seems like yesterday that when my brief sojourn to Bangalore ended and the first day of the seventh semester dawned. Just yesterday. But truth is, yesterday was indeed the last day of this semester. to quote a somewhat intelligent man, "When you are courting a nice girl an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder a second seems like an hour." This semester wasn't like the last. It was much more mellow. Almost eventless. But it was highly enjoyable for myriad reasons. To quote a few, the endless hours devoted to Morpheus, the hypnotic sweet intoxicating smell of rain which was nearly a daily feature, the initial enthusiasm in the wonderful game of Poker, Quake Quake Quake, the nonchalant attitude of yours truly and most of his associates and confederates towards anything which remotely reminded one of academics, Movies Joey Bleach Movies Anime Movies :P, writ...

I have an exam tomorrow. A pass-fail one. Short Story Classics. Brilliant, right? Wait, there's more. On top of this, we are already given the only two questions which are going to come in the exam. More or less. Yes, and out went the enthu to read anything for the exam. But then, no other avenue to vent my otherwise inherent boredom meant that I finally did make it to reading something for the exam. We had to do an analysis of any one of the many authors we had discussed in class. On the style of writing of the author. Naturally, as any other self-respecting person with self-diagnosed Incurable Lethargy of Body and Mind, I googled one of the authors, whose work (and more so, name) kind of appealed to me. He somehow reminded me of Somerset Maugham with his elaborate descriptions and the beautiful use of adjectives, ever so perfectly, ever so aptly. Alas, his actual works were not in English and I have but read translations. Moreover, his stories were hardly the gripping suspense or...

A 55 word story is such a daunting but at the same time alluring task. Having failed to convey a complete story in 1000 words, here I am trying to pen one which is 20 times smaller. Hopeless. That too exactly 55 words... Initially I thought about writing a title too but then was unsure if I should include the title in the word count, for you see the title plays a vital role for any story. The title is the primary tool which grabs people's attention much like the essential beautiful model in any advertisement. They are there to merely attract people, much like the title of the story. But in the end, why bother myself with the controversy of adding one. So the stories are titleless. Modelless. 4 x 55 = 220. “ Germany ’s most sensational serial killer strikes again… “ (A few hours earlier) “Guten Morgen, my name is Roger”, said the man dressed in an Armani suit, as he approached a gorgeous woman dressed in black. “Hi, my name is Lisa”, she replied, as she r...

Personally I dont like this story but for want of time and the creativity to come up with an idea to write a post, I decided to use a short story which we had to submit as an assignment. Bear in mind the stringent 1000 word limit which clearly sucked the life out of my otherwise decent storyline. Come to think of it, it really wasn't even a decent storyline in the first place. Heck, you be the judge of this crap. If you're still here even after the warning I just gave you, I can but pity you. And yes, feel free to attack me with sticks, stones and words. I will definitely join in. To have loved and lost Priya was growing more and more beautiful. I was only thinking of her these days and it didn’t help that every class I attended she was there. Her long enticing florid black flowing hair. Her mysterious dark brown eyes. Her irresistible innocent smile which brought forth her perfect cherubic dimples. But then every time I thought of telling her how I felt, I went spee...

I had just finished seeing the movie, Y Tu Mama Tambien when I decided to visit my erstwhile favourite spot in the hostel, the top of the mess. The moon was unusually bright today like one which can be visualized in most romantic stories, underneath which two faithful lovers propose their undying affection for each other. From a purple haze just above the trees canopying our extensive campus, the sky changed colour rather slowly as it mellowed into a more somber blue. Blue or a bluish black. It was quite a clear night. Alas, I couldn’t see too many stars in the sky. Rather contradicts my earlier observation about it being a clear sky. In any case, there was just this ominously white lunar disk accompanied by some solitary twinkling stars. The world is rather silent at around two in the morning. Most of the birds and animals seem to be asleep while the nocturnal ones are remaining awake albeit very quiet. A distant laugh can be heard and I presume it’s a group of students ...

This is a tag from Monsieur Cock. Basically its a story coauthored by like a million people which will hopefully get a decent ending in our lifetime. The rules to the "game" are listed at the end of the post. Initially I thought this was going to be quite trivial. But hey, conveying your ideas in just 90-100 words isn't that easy. Anyways, I like the way this story is going... ----- He thought it would be an ordinary journey. Standing behind the pillar he watched the train snort arrogantly into the station. With each snort he was reminded of his grandfather's words "You will fail in the city and return penniless"; with every heavenward whistle, he heard his cousin, "Don't worry. Come here and I will get you a job at the construction site." Now he had a 34-hour journey to prove one of them wrong, and he expected the excitement at the end of the journey. He looked at his ticket once again: compartment S9 berth 23. Pushing his luggage under the se...

I was recently tagged by my dear friend Dasan to write 20 points about myself. A simple task, you say? Hahah, I say. But then that's probably because I can't too anything just as simple as it sounds. It has to be unique. It has to have the Helmet touch! (0) I talk too much. Clearly I am quite egotistic and I know it. As if I care. Onwards then. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dave was waiting for fifteen minutes now. "I have something important to tell you, come to the beach immedaitely".He heard her voice as he replayed the message over and over in his head. He was growing more and more anxious since the minute hand was nearing 12. "Hi". He turned around only to see a friendly face but not the one he was waiting for. "Richard, Hi. What are you doing here?" (1)"Well, I absolutely love the sunrise and the sunset. Sunsets more actually. It somehow makes me feel so peaceful." "Oh I see....