For the one who brought back 'love', I quote:
कुछ पल की हैं यह ज़िन्दगी,
अब मुझको तुम जी लेने दो...
इस पल में न रोको मुझे, इस पल को सांसों में भर लेने दो...
कल फिर होगी सन्नाटा
कल फिर खामोश रहोगे तुम भी,
बस! आज मुझे जी भर के तुम्हारी बाते कर लेने दो।
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
The Mixed Bag
For a long time, I put my big board on the ‘bin’ and thought living as privately as I could. But, it didn’t work out well and self-realization gets through. And, as we edge for the year to close, I am recounting the numbers of haves and have-nots. So, let me put it this way.
First, things I shouldn’t have done (though don’t regret on them) but I’d try not to repeat:
First, things I shouldn’t have done (though don’t regret on them) but I’d try not to repeat:
- Never cease to my creativity again. Life otherwise is dull and IS my natural outlet. For past 2-months or more I stopped blogging, I stopped travelling, I stopped myself from anything that I earlier involved or love to… As the year come to close, I’m a sulkin’, broodin’ old man who get to recluse and lost my touch.
- Never lease to too-many worldliness. Life otherwise take you to ride and end at dungeon. For couple of months, I lost myself to too-many greediness, smelt my money hard, feel bodies close and lewdly together, and lost to ‘unholy’ me. Earlier, I tried not to touch it but failed to keep the commitment. As the year come to close, I’m a sulkin’, broodin’ old man who get to recluse and lost my touch.
- Never try a double-mind. Life otherwise make you choose the worst. When you failed to respond to your instinct and take the second-best option, you lost to the only choice you have. Rest of the options are meant only to keep the life-running, if not happily. As the year come to close, I realized my double-mindedness left me as a sulkin’, broodin’ old man who get to recluse and lost my touch.
- Never live in Hyderabad for more than a week. Life otherwise find a sludgy show. The closed landscape makes the city as the Siberia of India where life finds no outlet and most goes insane. If not the others, I do. Four years back, when I visited Hyderabad I return to Bangalore with no penny in my pocket. The last 8-months left dead and me dried. I start believing that there’s an EVIL resides in the city and we don’t equal. Amidst the fluorescent city lights, I’m a sulkin’, broodin’ old man who gets to recluse and lose the touch.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Pre-Birthday Dash
Tomorrow is my birthday and I had a feel of 'lowness' now. Azeem is not coming to the party. I lost to his (when compared) ex-lover. In fact, he never had loved me so deeply as I did but I do... I do... and it pains now.
I lost to love and feeling low. Tomorrow is my birthday and I won't be celebrating again, anymore.
I lost to love and feeling low. Tomorrow is my birthday and I won't be celebrating again, anymore.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Incorrigible Incompetent
Morning, 10:30 A.M: The office buzz is in full bloom when the lanky fella’ walks in with this shirt drooping like a hangar clipped to a thin rope. Standing six-feet and something, he looks like a skeleton with his pale bucktooth exposed to the morning air smelling rotten tomatoes. He reminds me of a scarecrow. The man is mad!
Staring to his blue Windows, since the morning—he pretends, scratches, and lastly gulp a throat of spit; ever wondering what NOT to do; OR to be correct ‘how NOT to do’. Rather, he is the most incompetently incorrigible slob I’ve ever encountered.
That’s exaggeration. Oh, NO! Let me recount the list of tasks he has done for past one week. Hmm…, I can’t even recall anything except of having catch him ogling at the galaxy (the screensaver) for nearly 6-hours (and he come to office at 11:00 everyday). In fact, it’s unworthy and a sin to write anything (him…) but I always get somebody as a pain to my ass. And, he’s the latest. (Thus, I don’t mind bitching. In fact, I’m lovin it.)
For past eight years, my work life has been engaging and enriching yet this is one of the BEST examples of where I shouldn’t be. I commit harakiri to my career but trying to find a way out. (Hope, the wish will be granted soon.) Till then, living with incorrigible incompetents. WTF!
Staring to his blue Windows, since the morning—he pretends, scratches, and lastly gulp a throat of spit; ever wondering what NOT to do; OR to be correct ‘how NOT to do’. Rather, he is the most incompetently incorrigible slob I’ve ever encountered.
That’s exaggeration. Oh, NO! Let me recount the list of tasks he has done for past one week. Hmm…, I can’t even recall anything except of having catch him ogling at the galaxy (the screensaver) for nearly 6-hours (and he come to office at 11:00 everyday). In fact, it’s unworthy and a sin to write anything (him…) but I always get somebody as a pain to my ass. And, he’s the latest. (Thus, I don’t mind bitching. In fact, I’m lovin it.)
For past eight years, my work life has been engaging and enriching yet this is one of the BEST examples of where I shouldn’t be. I commit harakiri to my career but trying to find a way out. (Hope, the wish will be granted soon.) Till then, living with incorrigible incompetents. WTF!
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Remorseless
What a salvation? Well, it's the opposite of damnation. I learned that Hell is a real place where you really do go if you’re forgiven when you meet Jesus. Interestingly, he’d forgive you for anything—child labor, loss of innocence, murder, or Internet porn. Unless, I walk to HIM and confess: “I’m GAY”
Monday, October 13, 2008
Why did I wrote this?
For past few months, when I return to my ‘queer’ self after the long hiatus; surprisingly the world seems to have changed a lot. I’m all-welcomed and in-demand. (The shirtless avatar and new hairdo create its wonder—I look queer now.) Happy!
Yea! Seems like someone's been bitten by the puppy love bug. But to be honest, It's time for me to stop hiding all the stupid gunk and step up to be a man, it's time for me to say that every time I close my eyes, all I see is your face and my stupid hair and my stupid chat and my stupid fans…
Feeling like a shadow passing over my soul until I realized ‘I love you’! And not, not in a friendly way, although I think we're great friends. And not in a misplaced affection, puppy-dog way, although I'm sure that's what you'll call it. I love you—truly, sincerely, and with all honesty. I can't stand next to you without wanting to hold you. I can't-I can't look into your eyes without feeling that-that longing you only read about in trashy romance novels. I can't talk to you without wanting to express my love for everything you are. (No pun intended)
I know…I know that some part of you is hesitating for a moment, and if there's a moment of hesitation, then that means you feel something too. And all I ask, please, is that you. You might nudge and say, queer songs in the air… but you know; even if we never talk again after tonight, please know that I am forever changed because of who you are and what you've meant to me, NOW-FOREVER!
Yea! Seems like someone's been bitten by the puppy love bug. But to be honest, It's time for me to stop hiding all the stupid gunk and step up to be a man, it's time for me to say that every time I close my eyes, all I see is your face and my stupid hair and my stupid chat and my stupid fans…
Feeling like a shadow passing over my soul until I realized ‘I love you’! And not, not in a friendly way, although I think we're great friends. And not in a misplaced affection, puppy-dog way, although I'm sure that's what you'll call it. I love you—truly, sincerely, and with all honesty. I can't stand next to you without wanting to hold you. I can't-I can't look into your eyes without feeling that-that longing you only read about in trashy romance novels. I can't talk to you without wanting to express my love for everything you are. (No pun intended)
I know…I know that some part of you is hesitating for a moment, and if there's a moment of hesitation, then that means you feel something too. And all I ask, please, is that you. You might nudge and say, queer songs in the air… but you know; even if we never talk again after tonight, please know that I am forever changed because of who you are and what you've meant to me, NOW-FOREVER!
Friday, October 10, 2008
Funny Ad - Or Food for Thought
Yesterday, I was watching this funny advertisement at YouTube (me, definitely a youtubber). The campaign is funny, if not hilarious and truly expressive with almost no dialogues. Creativity is at its best. To brief, those who haven’t noticed the campaign ad, it opens with a text which says bangles, talisman & vermillion mark on forehead are the symbols of a married woman. Husband daily applies a vermillion mark on the wife’s forehead as it is related to his long life and when he dies mourners strip off all these symbols from a married woman who is a widow now.
Shot II: Sandstorms blew that desert clear where a group of Rudali (local mourners) waiting as the husband struggle with last few breath. And, no sooner does the man breathe his last – the screen goes chirpy with the wailing mourners start to strip the woman of all the symbols except the vermillion spot on her forehead. In fact, two ladies tried their best but never succeed. In amidst of this process husband takes a deep breath leaving all bewildered and the woman amused.
Shot III: In the flash back it is shown that the Vermillion mark was inscribed with the permanent marker and the ad ends with the voice over ‘Camlin permanent markers, really permanent.’ With a humorous twisted and pun on the permanence of (at least in the ideal world!) marriage, taken by Camlin, the makers of Permanent markers – it leaves an interesting ‘food for thought’ to me… [Check the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6uxq2d8uBIk]
Shot II: Sandstorms blew that desert clear where a group of Rudali (local mourners) waiting as the husband struggle with last few breath. And, no sooner does the man breathe his last – the screen goes chirpy with the wailing mourners start to strip the woman of all the symbols except the vermillion spot on her forehead. In fact, two ladies tried their best but never succeed. In amidst of this process husband takes a deep breath leaving all bewildered and the woman amused.
Shot III: In the flash back it is shown that the Vermillion mark was inscribed with the permanent marker and the ad ends with the voice over ‘Camlin permanent markers, really permanent.’ With a humorous twisted and pun on the permanence of (at least in the ideal world!) marriage, taken by Camlin, the makers of Permanent markers – it leaves an interesting ‘food for thought’ to me… [Check the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6uxq2d8uBIk]
‘Why the courseware designers don’t take a cue from this?’ Ask the marketers and traditional school of learning.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Saradiya Subeccha Roilo...Ami Mayer kache jabo
My heart yearns homeward as festivities start to unwrap. The joyful city or the ‘Meri Delhi’ wake at the soft flow of Autumnal sunshine, days filled with warmth and smile are back. I have definitely lost track of time... and don’t mind being.
Elo khusir sarat.Ektu himmer hawa.Pujor bhore dhaker aawaj. Mayer kachey jawa.Onek khusir onek alo, pujo ebar katuk bhalo. Sarodiar Subhecha roilo. (Bengali phonetics)
Elo khusir sarat.Ektu himmer hawa.Pujor bhore dhaker aawaj. Mayer kachey jawa.Onek khusir onek alo, pujo ebar katuk bhalo. Sarodiar Subhecha roilo. (Bengali phonetics)
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Turned to my Grandmother
There used to be a time when I would wake only to the sound of my alarm, take a nice long stretch, and meet up with myself in the bathroom mirror only to discover an incredible case of bed head and some nice pillow case lines imprinted onto the entire length of my face. For five months, I wake up to the sound of alarm bell only to stop the buzzer and recoil under the warm blanket and sleep.
Dissolving the ego appears to be a very daunting task. I am beginning to be more aware of when it arises-which appears to happen all too frequently. One way that I thought of slowly turning the tide was to do an ego releasing deed with every ego promoting thought. That might be one way to keep the ego in check.
So...I realized today that I have finally turning to my grandmother.
Dissolving the ego appears to be a very daunting task. I am beginning to be more aware of when it arises-which appears to happen all too frequently. One way that I thought of slowly turning the tide was to do an ego releasing deed with every ego promoting thought. That might be one way to keep the ego in check.
So...I realized today that I have finally turning to my grandmother.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Cry for Identity
I am not a sociologist but observant. And, I don’t feel embarrassed if *others* find my views provocative, lecherous, or unsuitable. Damn with them. Two raging issues keep constantly plopping throughout the day as I manage with the usual chores and respond the chat windows (…but!). What made me write to this blog is an inert feeling. Say about myself.
[The credit however shared by two others, (err! strangers) one who dispassionately talk and refer ‘it’ to be a SIN that Laws of Shariat command and another who passionately (now) scrapping on how much ‘he long to get back to another relation after the sudden death of his ex.’] Life is strange.
Just another day at pub, unwinding myself at one of the puffy pelt-skin with cigarette burning between the fingers, I sported a bunch of young bodies squeezed into flammable shirts, flaunting bleached blonde hair and piercing rocking to the *high* notes gregariously. (Ouch!) I enjoyed most of time staring at the wriggling bodies dancing too closely and too much of grinding when one of them catch me red-handed and I smiled back. As he approaches me, my Freudian fetishes soar, which finally ended with both of us lip-locked and heavily slurping the love-saliva. (Umm!)
Ironically, when the country debate over the issue of ‘to-be’ or ‘not-to-be’ a gay country and most authoritarian have publicly denounced the right to be a liberal and radical proclaiming homosexuality nothing more than ‘perversion’. I enjoyed the warmth of the kiss and uninhibitedly let my hands slide down the waist excited.
Homosexuality, for many snoops, is a matter of curiosity and rather than pondering on the real issue of human psycho-sexuality, they label it to be ‘perversion and criminal offence per unnatural act’. (Interestingly, many won’t mind getting a free blow…sometime secretly). Coming back to the real issue, as gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transgender, or queer folks, march the city roads pleading for identity and repeal of Article 377; conservatives defended themselves seeking protection. Cabinet finally ruled out minority dudes and walk in-hand to conformist thus declaring Article 377 bona fide.
What’s wrong with homosexuality? From sociological per se, this weakens the family system and create imbalances in gender. A heterosexual society is needed (irrespective of the fact that they practice adultery and extra-marital affairs), it results in production of babies and generations to continue. Further, when you say ‘homosexuality is normal’, let’s look at the literal definition to the word [normal] ‘things are functioning in the way it was meant to be’. In this sense, homosexual practice is simply “abnormal”. Sexual organs were obviously not meant to fit in bodies the way homosexuals use them, resulting in a host of adverse medical consequences.
I do not agree to other so-called claims by political and religious reformers, to whom the issue of Article 377, shamelessly gesticulates and misinterpret quotes that otherwise vindictive or biased to gain publicity campaign. If you ask them, I do not agree to them but to me, ‘if gay sex is natural because two people perform the act in consent, adultery or extra marital relationships are also need to be legalized on similar ground’. In my humble view, homosexuality is immoral just as heterosexual adultery is immoral.
The argument is though convincing at multiple citations, still…it’s a natural and void to be legalized. To begin, when God made Adam and Eve it was a heterosexual world but Adam has two sons (Cain and Abel). Gnostic literature shows the extremely manly Cain and the rather androgynous Abel share consensual relation wherein Abel acts as the female counterpart and Cain is the master. A famous painting by Lionello Spada shows the murder of Abel in a bedlike altar with their drapes untied. Between that and the closeness of their bodies, Cain might as easily be ravishing his brother as murdering him. This is not just a crime; it is a violation. (But Cain was cursed? Dude, even Eve and Adam violated the rule and punished. All these debates would have been meaningless if Adam and Eve wouldn’t have followed the serpent.)
Similarly, all sons and daughters of Adam married each other thus, adultery started with the first act of Genesis. Kill me or defend yourself. You are a sin-child since birth. Why target to homosexuals now? Many religions still conform to incestuous and extra-marital relationship as practices without prohibition, why sectarians have problem when gays make love. Neither heterosexuality nor homosexuality is inherently sinful. It is free of sin if it is safe, consensual and, perhaps, within a committed relationship. In Hinduism many of the divinities are androgynous and some change gender to participate in homoerotic behavior.
Many species in nature have been observed as exhibiting homosexual behavior. In some primate species, males who are denied mating opportunities by stronger, more dominant males or males who are sexually immature will often be seen performing sexual acts to each other. Some may even continue this behavior long into adulthood. Face it, homosexuality is a natural behavior. Being gay is not exclusive to the "homo sapiens" primate. What has never been observed is a group of dolphins beating another dolphin senseless because he was gay. No biologist has documented anti-homosexual behavior in nature.
So is it possible that the unnatural behavior is the hatred and oppression of gays? If all these don’t make sense it won’t matter to *us* for we are lip locked in darkest night and enjoying happiness. To rest, legalization of Article 377 is only to make our identify recognized and sanctimonized.
[The credit however shared by two others, (err! strangers) one who dispassionately talk and refer ‘it’ to be a SIN that Laws of Shariat command and another who passionately (now) scrapping on how much ‘he long to get back to another relation after the sudden death of his ex.’] Life is strange.
Just another day at pub, unwinding myself at one of the puffy pelt-skin with cigarette burning between the fingers, I sported a bunch of young bodies squeezed into flammable shirts, flaunting bleached blonde hair and piercing rocking to the *high* notes gregariously. (Ouch!) I enjoyed most of time staring at the wriggling bodies dancing too closely and too much of grinding when one of them catch me red-handed and I smiled back. As he approaches me, my Freudian fetishes soar, which finally ended with both of us lip-locked and heavily slurping the love-saliva. (Umm!)
Ironically, when the country debate over the issue of ‘to-be’ or ‘not-to-be’ a gay country and most authoritarian have publicly denounced the right to be a liberal and radical proclaiming homosexuality nothing more than ‘perversion’. I enjoyed the warmth of the kiss and uninhibitedly let my hands slide down the waist excited.
Homosexuality, for many snoops, is a matter of curiosity and rather than pondering on the real issue of human psycho-sexuality, they label it to be ‘perversion and criminal offence per unnatural act’. (Interestingly, many won’t mind getting a free blow…sometime secretly). Coming back to the real issue, as gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transgender, or queer folks, march the city roads pleading for identity and repeal of Article 377; conservatives defended themselves seeking protection. Cabinet finally ruled out minority dudes and walk in-hand to conformist thus declaring Article 377 bona fide.
What’s wrong with homosexuality? From sociological per se, this weakens the family system and create imbalances in gender. A heterosexual society is needed (irrespective of the fact that they practice adultery and extra-marital affairs), it results in production of babies and generations to continue. Further, when you say ‘homosexuality is normal’, let’s look at the literal definition to the word [normal] ‘things are functioning in the way it was meant to be’. In this sense, homosexual practice is simply “abnormal”. Sexual organs were obviously not meant to fit in bodies the way homosexuals use them, resulting in a host of adverse medical consequences.
I do not agree to other so-called claims by political and religious reformers, to whom the issue of Article 377, shamelessly gesticulates and misinterpret quotes that otherwise vindictive or biased to gain publicity campaign. If you ask them, I do not agree to them but to me, ‘if gay sex is natural because two people perform the act in consent, adultery or extra marital relationships are also need to be legalized on similar ground’. In my humble view, homosexuality is immoral just as heterosexual adultery is immoral.
The argument is though convincing at multiple citations, still…it’s a natural and void to be legalized. To begin, when God made Adam and Eve it was a heterosexual world but Adam has two sons (Cain and Abel). Gnostic literature shows the extremely manly Cain and the rather androgynous Abel share consensual relation wherein Abel acts as the female counterpart and Cain is the master. A famous painting by Lionello Spada shows the murder of Abel in a bedlike altar with their drapes untied. Between that and the closeness of their bodies, Cain might as easily be ravishing his brother as murdering him. This is not just a crime; it is a violation. (But Cain was cursed? Dude, even Eve and Adam violated the rule and punished. All these debates would have been meaningless if Adam and Eve wouldn’t have followed the serpent.)
Similarly, all sons and daughters of Adam married each other thus, adultery started with the first act of Genesis. Kill me or defend yourself. You are a sin-child since birth. Why target to homosexuals now? Many religions still conform to incestuous and extra-marital relationship as practices without prohibition, why sectarians have problem when gays make love. Neither heterosexuality nor homosexuality is inherently sinful. It is free of sin if it is safe, consensual and, perhaps, within a committed relationship. In Hinduism many of the divinities are androgynous and some change gender to participate in homoerotic behavior.
Many species in nature have been observed as exhibiting homosexual behavior. In some primate species, males who are denied mating opportunities by stronger, more dominant males or males who are sexually immature will often be seen performing sexual acts to each other. Some may even continue this behavior long into adulthood. Face it, homosexuality is a natural behavior. Being gay is not exclusive to the "homo sapiens" primate. What has never been observed is a group of dolphins beating another dolphin senseless because he was gay. No biologist has documented anti-homosexual behavior in nature.
So is it possible that the unnatural behavior is the hatred and oppression of gays? If all these don’t make sense it won’t matter to *us* for we are lip locked in darkest night and enjoying happiness. To rest, legalization of Article 377 is only to make our identify recognized and sanctimonized.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Quick Recall
Can you imagine, I didn't have anything that I wanted to post today - no memories, no complaints, no workload…I am chillin and ‘high’! So, try responding to few funny moments of life. (I am trying harder to keep my sanity intact)
Q: What’s the time of the day?
Its weekend and I’m home with a pile of myself…getting loose.
Q: So, what are the plans?
Like flying away with someone for some cheeky romance but am an old fruit. So, sitting over the fruit basket and staring at the walls (mebbe! volunteer myself to kitchen and bake myself). This weekend is like… (dunno!)
Q: Hmm! So, what’s cooking?
Gee! I hate cookin but planning to make exotic Palak Paneer (in a typical Punjabi style with dash of butter and spice). I almost have forgotten the taste. Thus, trying to revive the old Delhi when I’m with Nizams; after-all Mughals where always the Emperor. Hey! Didn’t you say it’s Punjabi…oops! But Delhiwale eats nah!
Q: Did you notice you’re opening up? 1-2 and then 3 lines (See above)
Wait for the rest of your madcap questions to get over. (Return to monologue…he he!)
Q: Any weekend plans? Think again…how about getting some pictures.
Hyderabad is unworthy. There’s nothing apart of four pillar standing mid-way and reaching no-where. It’s a funny city with almost no fun. Men grow pot-belly and untrimmed moustaches while the youngster (the lean mean machines) grows sideburns that either primitive or unwedded. On weekends, man stroll around in shopping mall with five or more burqa-clad women following him. And, yea! They all join at food court and hog like pigs (…Pigs are holy, amen!)
Q: O.K. boy! You’re beating around the bushes. What’s on mind?
Nothing dudes. I’ve turned idle, unproductive, and tedious; unimaginative, humorless, and vain; vindictive, undignified, and weak. In short, I'm just a humorless ice maiden in desperate need of a good humping. Idle hands spend time at the genitals, and you know how much God hates that. Well, I'm kinda bored, but, go ahead. Why I am rambling?
Q: Change the topic…Are you reading something?
Yea! Partho send me fresh news scripts on the chief minister act like a man finally shooed off the controversial Dow Company whom he was following for months now. A big date to Partho and his team and I acted as the usual listener to Partho’s all-excitement as any other time. Interestingly, the warkari (local religious-cultural sect in Maharashtra) in an historical event staged a protest; thus, actively supporting the local cause to chuck Dow Company from India.
Another article that keep me busy (forwarded by [name withheld] and working with Naaz Foundation) on the controversial archaic rule that advice public not to follow ‘LGBT rights’, thus dispassionately viewing homosexuality as nothing but a criminal offence and unnatural.
Huh!
Q: What’s the time of the day?
Its weekend and I’m home with a pile of myself…getting loose.
Q: So, what are the plans?
Like flying away with someone for some cheeky romance but am an old fruit. So, sitting over the fruit basket and staring at the walls (mebbe! volunteer myself to kitchen and bake myself). This weekend is like… (dunno!)
Q: Hmm! So, what’s cooking?
Gee! I hate cookin but planning to make exotic Palak Paneer (in a typical Punjabi style with dash of butter and spice). I almost have forgotten the taste. Thus, trying to revive the old Delhi when I’m with Nizams; after-all Mughals where always the Emperor. Hey! Didn’t you say it’s Punjabi…oops! But Delhiwale eats nah!
Q: Did you notice you’re opening up? 1-2 and then 3 lines (See above)
Wait for the rest of your madcap questions to get over. (Return to monologue…he he!)
Q: Any weekend plans? Think again…how about getting some pictures.
Hyderabad is unworthy. There’s nothing apart of four pillar standing mid-way and reaching no-where. It’s a funny city with almost no fun. Men grow pot-belly and untrimmed moustaches while the youngster (the lean mean machines) grows sideburns that either primitive or unwedded. On weekends, man stroll around in shopping mall with five or more burqa-clad women following him. And, yea! They all join at food court and hog like pigs (…Pigs are holy, amen!)
Q: O.K. boy! You’re beating around the bushes. What’s on mind?
Nothing dudes. I’ve turned idle, unproductive, and tedious; unimaginative, humorless, and vain; vindictive, undignified, and weak. In short, I'm just a humorless ice maiden in desperate need of a good humping. Idle hands spend time at the genitals, and you know how much God hates that. Well, I'm kinda bored, but, go ahead. Why I am rambling?
Q: Change the topic…Are you reading something?
Yea! Partho send me fresh news scripts on the chief minister act like a man finally shooed off the controversial Dow Company whom he was following for months now. A big date to Partho and his team and I acted as the usual listener to Partho’s all-excitement as any other time. Interestingly, the warkari (local religious-cultural sect in Maharashtra) in an historical event staged a protest; thus, actively supporting the local cause to chuck Dow Company from India.
Another article that keep me busy (forwarded by [name withheld] and working with Naaz Foundation) on the controversial archaic rule that advice public not to follow ‘LGBT rights’, thus dispassionately viewing homosexuality as nothing but a criminal offence and unnatural.
Huh!
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Namyo ho renge ko
It was a ‘Date with Conversion’. I've always wondered why rich Indians, dismissive about their own, find solace in others faith. Jesus! Last weekend, I was invited to such passive a conversion meet (…they didn’t offer me food, eew!) in a posh apartment with bunch of lost-child acting relieved and myself…ugh!
With no viharas nearby as the city grow to multiplexes; makeshift arrangements made to the posh apartment to accommodate 20-odd self-deprived flummoxed seating in front of a shrine that scribbled ubiquitous (non-deciphered) script, nicely framed and post-fixed. Sitting cross-legged on the local carpet uncomfortable as I try to adjust and adapt myself—there were Richie and desperate dollies start chanting ‘Namyo ho renge ko’ in slow moan (as if they’re squeezed there…) till it start to scream.
‘N—A—M—Y—O—H—O—R—E—N—G—E—K—Y—O’ // ‘N—A—M—Y—O—H—O—R—E—N—G—E—K—Y—O’ // ‘N—A—M—Y—O—H—O—R—E—N—G—E—K—Y—O’
Within minutes, the room filled with heavy nasal tones of mixed races (err! gender) chanting aloud with their folded hand closing the breathing way that I fear they might not ex-plod in the whaleway brodge, all a same time. ‘N—A—M—Y—O—H—O— (Fcuk).
Buddhism for beginners is like the story of a rich kid that decided to slum it. No joke - this guy Buddha was living at home in his palace, leeching off his dad until he was 30. Then, like some spoiled trust-fund baby, he decides to leave the palace and finds all this romance in self-inflicted deprivation, all the while knowing that he could ring up his dad to top off his Visa card the minute anything went wrong.
Hey, Buddha has spiritual insight! O really, N—A—M—Y—O—H—O— (I'm chanting)
With no viharas nearby as the city grow to multiplexes; makeshift arrangements made to the posh apartment to accommodate 20-odd self-deprived flummoxed seating in front of a shrine that scribbled ubiquitous (non-deciphered) script, nicely framed and post-fixed. Sitting cross-legged on the local carpet uncomfortable as I try to adjust and adapt myself—there were Richie and desperate dollies start chanting ‘Namyo ho renge ko’ in slow moan (as if they’re squeezed there…) till it start to scream.
‘N—A—M—Y—O—H—O—R—E—N—G—E—K—Y—O’ // ‘N—A—M—Y—O—H—O—R—E—N—G—E—K—Y—O’ // ‘N—A—M—Y—O—H—O—R—E—N—G—E—K—Y—O’
Within minutes, the room filled with heavy nasal tones of mixed races (err! gender) chanting aloud with their folded hand closing the breathing way that I fear they might not ex-plod in the whaleway brodge, all a same time. ‘N—A—M—Y—O—H—O— (Fcuk).
Buddhism for beginners is like the story of a rich kid that decided to slum it. No joke - this guy Buddha was living at home in his palace, leeching off his dad until he was 30. Then, like some spoiled trust-fund baby, he decides to leave the palace and finds all this romance in self-inflicted deprivation, all the while knowing that he could ring up his dad to top off his Visa card the minute anything went wrong.
Hey, Buddha has spiritual insight! O really, N—A—M—Y—O—H—O— (I'm chanting)
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
How Am I Today?
Everything's fine. I'm healing up satisfactorily. In fact, I’m healing faster than my dignity.
Blessed are the hearts that can be bend, they shall never be broken. But I wonder? If there's no breaking and no healing. And if there's no healing, then there's no learning. And if there's no learning, then there's no struggle. But struggle is a part of life. So, I’m happy to be broken than being bend to somebody. Yeah, amen!
Blessed are the hearts that can be bend, they shall never be broken. But I wonder? If there's no breaking and no healing. And if there's no healing, then there's no learning. And if there's no learning, then there's no struggle. But struggle is a part of life. So, I’m happy to be broken than being bend to somebody. Yeah, amen!
Monday, September 8, 2008
Farewell Friendship
Enjoy these times coz when its’ gone, it’s gone. And, what you're gonna miss when you're gone, what you really care about. Admit it, you're here going through the motions, but truth is you'll be a tiny bit relieved when you’ll gone.
And, the next day I came home; back to where I started. To be honest, I'm going to miss you when you're gone. We still make mistakes.
How brilliant is that?
And, the next day I came home; back to where I started. To be honest, I'm going to miss you when you're gone. We still make mistakes.
How brilliant is that?
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Got My First Heart Problem
Yesterday Momma turned sixty and I got my first heart stroke.
It was all sweaty and scary feeling...Momma! This kills me now. But I relapse again, just to say 'Happy Birthday' - wish you not a long but fruitful living anyhow.
It was all sweaty and scary feeling...Momma! This kills me now. But I relapse again, just to say 'Happy Birthday' - wish you not a long but fruitful living anyhow.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Dear Sistah
It’s the last and the least expected gesture that my sister would have imagined in her life. She might choke…feel aghast…or die an unceremonious death but not this…, Never! Rather, she would feel spirited if I say something like this: “My sister may look like an angel but her heart is as black as yours and mine.” Hey, wait a minute! She's my sister; and I need to tell her... You know, you were always my favorite. (No kidding)
It was an absolute disaster (that I always thought to be) when she was born but she turned to a pilot and warrior. A little dental floss, a toothache, a back pain, and a constant dementia—but a sister who glides you through turf and double-check before you land safe. (Think again! Dude…she’s pro in butt-kicking)
Strange to realize that love can be more dangerous than hate! And, now when I like to say ‘how bad and lonely I am…’, I could tell it only to her. Sister, I am so sorry for what I've done to you for all these ages and after everything you've done for me. I just wanted my sister back so badly, at a time when she is most required.
What a waste? My sister does not care for the expression…but she’s the one who’s most soughted now. Meet me next life…Ciao!
It was an absolute disaster (that I always thought to be) when she was born but she turned to a pilot and warrior. A little dental floss, a toothache, a back pain, and a constant dementia—but a sister who glides you through turf and double-check before you land safe. (Think again! Dude…she’s pro in butt-kicking)
Strange to realize that love can be more dangerous than hate! And, now when I like to say ‘how bad and lonely I am…’, I could tell it only to her. Sister, I am so sorry for what I've done to you for all these ages and after everything you've done for me. I just wanted my sister back so badly, at a time when she is most required.
What a waste? My sister does not care for the expression…but she’s the one who’s most soughted now. Meet me next life…Ciao!
Dead Body in my Cubicle
Well, that's something I've got to talk to you about, because that could be as disgusting as myself. [Yelling my lungs out] Just stop harassing me. And most importantly, death is an everyday part of the workplace. So when you see my dead body don’t freak out.
Friday, August 8, 2008
I thought for Myself
One more night I stayed awake and then I think of myself. Why, I should stick to this mess and don’t call the shot? It has been long and teary but short journey. (Isn’t that enough!)
Break-free! GO you lil birdie…GO.
Break-free! GO you lil birdie…GO.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Sour Taste
I woke up with sour taste in my mouth. I tastes 'uuughhhhh'. Bad breath? Nah!
Last night, I worked till the wee hours and its been a routine. For past three months, I am no more a happy-go-lucky man anymore. I turned drooped, frustrated, and deeper sighs. They call me 'sadist'. I turn to One. No more happiness!
Life tastes sour, 'uuugh'!
Last night, I worked till the wee hours and its been a routine. For past three months, I am no more a happy-go-lucky man anymore. I turned drooped, frustrated, and deeper sighs. They call me 'sadist'. I turn to One. No more happiness!
Life tastes sour, 'uuugh'!
Friday, August 1, 2008
Whill You Pay My Bills
I'm into a bad job and how I feel? Mixed feelings on this one though. It appears that what you desire for in a job cannot come in one package. It can either be that the company and people are great, but the job sucks, OR the people and job are great, but the company isn’t.
In fact, its not about the job. I don't really feel like working anymore. So, I think its gonna suck on the first day (i.e. dragging myself out of bed). Anyway, the ever-so-practical me will go to work nonetheless. Who else is gonna pay for my bills if I don't work?
One More Bug Report
A big problem in software development nowadays in the practical and academic sense is the Bug Reviewer and his bug report. The idea is to fill the excel sheet with numbers of comments (both suggestive and direct) and not to check it to the previous sheet but ‘Open’ status. What is to be done now? Maybe with a restrictive and patience you can understand the severity of the fixes and not write a report that loose confidence or make one go saying: ‘Huh! Infosys”
Well, I know this isn't really a bug report and it's not really a suggestion either. The idea is to fill the rows with numbers of comments and contradict what you say in the previous sheet. The status therefore remains ‘Open’. Mebbe! A few restrictive steps or patience could save any one of us from the severity but each time you send me ‘Open’!
I say: ‘Huh! Infosys’
Guess what I found. Suggestions…Personal commentaries…Refer to original PPT (that highly scribbled and not make sense). So, back to the original bug (Huh!) I understand your game plan, Iago. If you use the original it’s a bug since it is not rewritten or attended per expected. If you rephrase, its bug since it is not the original. You got the double-sword and walk with scathe.
I knew this was not a good long-term placement, but I've been just kind of coasting along. Where are the good jobs going? Why do I need to work for a company that I hate? Resume…Creditability…Customer Satisfaction…Bug Reports…It all sucks! I've become completely fed up.
Well, I know this isn't really a bug report and it's not really a suggestion either. The idea is to fill the rows with numbers of comments and contradict what you say in the previous sheet. The status therefore remains ‘Open’. Mebbe! A few restrictive steps or patience could save any one of us from the severity but each time you send me ‘Open’!
I say: ‘Huh! Infosys’
Guess what I found. Suggestions…Personal commentaries…Refer to original PPT (that highly scribbled and not make sense). So, back to the original bug (Huh!) I understand your game plan, Iago. If you use the original it’s a bug since it is not rewritten or attended per expected. If you rephrase, its bug since it is not the original. You got the double-sword and walk with scathe.
I knew this was not a good long-term placement, but I've been just kind of coasting along. Where are the good jobs going? Why do I need to work for a company that I hate? Resume…Creditability…Customer Satisfaction…Bug Reports…It all sucks! I've become completely fed up.
My Life is in Mess
Those who read my Gtalk caption “My life is in mess…” and were curious you can see, I am very much into a mess.
Living with a sour man, gang of friendless seniors, incompetent mates, and a compulsive sedate who try to drugs; life can’t be anything more than a ‘mess…’. They pick me and hurled me like a Frisbee as the bouncers on bars who feel men while bouncing. I am in a real SHIT!
Nearly doubled my risk of coronary heart disease by smoking 30-sticks a day and more, making myself twice as likely to have heart failure. In my last blood test many of my body functions showed signs of improvement, but the doctors are less than optimistic now.
What a mess! Twenty-four hours a day you sit an' you can have a whole mess cooked before you. Did you enjoy me? As few lesser men who read this blog might remark, here's another fine mess you've gotten for us. Stop’ it kiddo! Get out of it…
And I answered, this whole thing is my fault I shouldn’t have picked this mess
Saturday, July 12, 2008
You're reading my Blog
I'm sorry, but, you know, he’s an annoying watchdog. Does he bite? Don’t scrape yourself, or stub your toes, or blow yourselves up. But you can't depend on me all your life. You have to learn that there's a little Homer Simpson in all of us, and I'm going to have to live without your respect and awe. The only reason I'm telling you is, I'm going to be leaving you...
Sunday, June 29, 2008
My Life is in mess again
Every day, I struggle to get domesticated but with each step I fail like a big thud. In fact, a week ago I dated a psychiatrist he dumped me midway for I was yelling at my colleague who created one more bug (Boy, I was tryin’ to sensitize him on the criticality: don’t you think I am sensible guy). Well… never ask momma dear on that note.
Yes I am overworked and now, malnourished, under-earning, and no-sex long time. Feel like sooner I will turn to a vegetable. Yes, I am running myself ragged with the move, settling in, keeping all the balls in the air. But what’s really killing me is how much I want to be at one of my jobs. My conundrum is this: I want to spend my time making the ranch solvent and successful. I feel compelled to be there, tucked in the hillside with the animals, the activities, even the managerial hardships. Even!
I keep thinking to myself how much of my life is spent practically PAYING for volunteer work coz’ every job get to my nerve (the present one is the best of the examples) sometime or other. Does that mean I am best of all hard-working blokes? Dude, I need some break and sit back to look after those need me.
Now, when I look at myself; all I want is hillside top view to escape. Poetry. To be filled with love. And I feel bereft of each of those. Abandoned by them too. Sic!
Yes I am overworked and now, malnourished, under-earning, and no-sex long time. Feel like sooner I will turn to a vegetable. Yes, I am running myself ragged with the move, settling in, keeping all the balls in the air. But what’s really killing me is how much I want to be at one of my jobs. My conundrum is this: I want to spend my time making the ranch solvent and successful. I feel compelled to be there, tucked in the hillside with the animals, the activities, even the managerial hardships. Even!
I keep thinking to myself how much of my life is spent practically PAYING for volunteer work coz’ every job get to my nerve (the present one is the best of the examples) sometime or other. Does that mean I am best of all hard-working blokes? Dude, I need some break and sit back to look after those need me.
Now, when I look at myself; all I want is hillside top view to escape. Poetry. To be filled with love. And I feel bereft of each of those. Abandoned by them too. Sic!
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Love @One Night
[Last few lines before a pair chat windows muted. Seriously, it wasn’t for he was bald as a coot with only one tooth but silent sighs embraces both. It has happened twice in my career. Well, in that case, could you please speak slowly?]
…
1:59 A.M. [Sender] Rahul…, what are you doing?
[Myself] You have all my attention…keep going.
2:00 A.M. [Sender]: <<expression hug>>
[Myself]: What for?
2:01 A.M. [Sender]: Will you marry me?
[Long pauses]
…
…
2:05 A.M. [Myself]: What if I nod in confirmation?
[Sender]: A big flirt, you…
[Myself]: Do you think that way? This is awful. It's like reading a 600 year old Penthouse. You know me well and I’m not the muppet or a dumb blonde. You know, I speak the mind raw.
2:07 A.M. [Sender]: Thankfully, you aren’t the blonde.
[Sender] ‘Tomake biye korle mondo hoto nah’ (trans.): You could have been the best thing happen to me.
…
…
2:07 A.M. [Myself]: Feels mutually. I would have been ‘myself’ if I were with you.
[Sender]: What does that mean?
[Myself]: I’m tired being closeted and imitate to world with a broad grin, ‘everything alright…at my end’. I would have been sleeping in my casket smiling; knowing that you hold my hands when they drop me deep down to the core with my earthiness died.
[Sender]: <<expression :kiss>>
…
…
2:09 A.M. [Sender]: Are you catching with the soccer game tonight?
[Myself]: What’s the score?
[Sender]: Italy seems to have brighter chance…to
[Myself]: hmm…
[Sender]: You loved Italy always…ain’t you?
[Myself]: I feel like saying, “huzzoor aatte aate bahut der kar-di/ bahut der se darr pea ankh ladi thi/ dawa lathe lathe bahut der kardi” (trans).
…
…
2:11 A.M. [Sender]: That’s the story of my life.
[Myself]: You remain one of the closest chapter to me...love forever!
[Sender]: Is that the declaration of love, Ours?
[Myself]: You can say that … alas! Let it remain for the moment and with dawn when you walk to the aisle, don’t look back. I might be standing there always, for you to return; selfishly to myself.
[Sender]: I know you’ll be there and its not that we’re going to be there for each other, neways!
<<expression sigh>>
…
…
2:12 A.M. [Myself]: I wish you good-luck and a new life. Don’t return to me again.
[Sender]: Why do you desire that?
[Myself]: When you said…, I'd say yes, but then some fool would just come along and sneak something past us. Should we hold hands? I feel weird. No sooner did I have you, I lose thee. Ain’t I born jinxed.
[The windows go muted for a long time.]
2:45 A.M. [Sender]: <<expression :kiss>>
…
1:59 A.M. [Sender] Rahul…, what are you doing?
[Myself] You have all my attention…keep going.
2:00 A.M. [Sender]: <<expression hug>>
[Myself]: What for?
2:01 A.M. [Sender]: Will you marry me?
[Long pauses]
…
…
2:05 A.M. [Myself]: What if I nod in confirmation?
[Sender]: A big flirt, you…
[Myself]: Do you think that way? This is awful. It's like reading a 600 year old Penthouse. You know me well and I’m not the muppet or a dumb blonde. You know, I speak the mind raw.
2:07 A.M. [Sender]: Thankfully, you aren’t the blonde.
[Sender] ‘Tomake biye korle mondo hoto nah’ (trans.): You could have been the best thing happen to me.
…
…
2:07 A.M. [Myself]: Feels mutually. I would have been ‘myself’ if I were with you.
[Sender]: What does that mean?
[Myself]: I’m tired being closeted and imitate to world with a broad grin, ‘everything alright…at my end’. I would have been sleeping in my casket smiling; knowing that you hold my hands when they drop me deep down to the core with my earthiness died.
[Sender]: <<expression :kiss>>
…
…
2:09 A.M. [Sender]: Are you catching with the soccer game tonight?
[Myself]: What’s the score?
[Sender]: Italy seems to have brighter chance…to
[Myself]: hmm…
[Sender]: You loved Italy always…ain’t you?
[Myself]: I feel like saying, “huzzoor aatte aate bahut der kar-di/ bahut der se darr pea ankh ladi thi/ dawa lathe lathe bahut der kardi” (trans).
…
…
2:11 A.M. [Sender]: That’s the story of my life.
[Myself]: You remain one of the closest chapter to me...love forever!
[Sender]: Is that the declaration of love, Ours?
[Myself]: You can say that … alas! Let it remain for the moment and with dawn when you walk to the aisle, don’t look back. I might be standing there always, for you to return; selfishly to myself.
[Sender]: I know you’ll be there and its not that we’re going to be there for each other, neways!
<<expression sigh>>
…
…
2:12 A.M. [Myself]: I wish you good-luck and a new life. Don’t return to me again.
[Sender]: Why do you desire that?
[Myself]: When you said…, I'd say yes, but then some fool would just come along and sneak something past us. Should we hold hands? I feel weird. No sooner did I have you, I lose thee. Ain’t I born jinxed.
[The windows go muted for a long time.]
2:45 A.M. [Sender]: <<expression :kiss>>
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Another Nazm
हम दिवानो से मिलके, देखो ज़रा
दर्द-इ-ज़माना तुमको याद नहीं
कल भी यह जिद्द थी तुम्हे
आज फिर यह जुस्तजू
अपना हाल-ऐ-दिल
हम कभी सुनाये क्यों न्ही
दर्द-इ-ज़माना तुमको याद नहीं
कल भी यह जिद्द थी तुम्हे
आज फिर यह जुस्तजू
अपना हाल-ऐ-दिल
हम कभी सुनाये क्यों न्ही
Another reason to starve today
Another fuel hike hits motorists (err! non-motorists) since motor drivers are smart enough to add [plus two or plus ten] to the existing meter reading and jibe shamelessly. Non-motorists are clueless; in fact, they are clueless on many accounts. The pressure continues to mount on already struggling commuters to struggle more, first with erratic meters and then the erratic hikes. The increase comes at a bad time when fangs of recession has cause a dent to American fiscal and international policies and third-world governments tightened their cork over ‘subsidy’. Huh!
Why the super-hero Rambo from country of Hollywood step onto Afghanistan with loaded barrels. He fall flat face so does the president. Oiling disunity?
Of late, despite moves to take the sting out of the hikes, while anger fizzled out against government who otherwise stood firm as blasé, let’s look at what has gone wrong with the householder. Grr! I am referring to myself. The price of cooking-gas has increase following the fuel price so I’ve another reason to starve or survive with bland eatables. (Ooh, I turn to a cow). No more bargaining with the auto-drivers who otherwise proficient enough to rip you off at the drop of hat even if it hike or not. Cigarettes are the most easily hiked with no qualms. Indeed, the health conscious politicians in their 70s or 80s prefer smoking cigars. Added to this I have regular taxes and some irregular ones.
What left for me? Maybe hunting for another job in another city.
Why the super-hero Rambo from country of Hollywood step onto Afghanistan with loaded barrels. He fall flat face so does the president. Oiling disunity?
Of late, despite moves to take the sting out of the hikes, while anger fizzled out against government who otherwise stood firm as blasé, let’s look at what has gone wrong with the householder. Grr! I am referring to myself. The price of cooking-gas has increase following the fuel price so I’ve another reason to starve or survive with bland eatables. (Ooh, I turn to a cow). No more bargaining with the auto-drivers who otherwise proficient enough to rip you off at the drop of hat even if it hike or not. Cigarettes are the most easily hiked with no qualms. Indeed, the health conscious politicians in their 70s or 80s prefer smoking cigars. Added to this I have regular taxes and some irregular ones.
What left for me? Maybe hunting for another job in another city.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
A Christian Entourage
It’s another journey after a series of hilltop view around Pune, Medak—80 kilometers from Hyderabad with its boundaries nearing the border line of Warangal is a quick weekend.
Famed for its 1914 cathedral establishment by Charles Walker Posnett, one of the largest Gothic built (next to Vatican) in this part of south-eastern world, Medak Church can accommodate five thousand people at a time. (^o-o^) This exemplar of piety and beauty came up at Medak after a dreadful famine hit the area around World War I and all but decimated it in a relentless three years. Posnett provided with the food for the starving and as an act of gratification to God built the Medak Church with the labor and love of the people.
Stand amidst pomegranate shades and copious yellow bloom the church looks like a pile of white granite that soars to the sky. A lofty 173 ft high at its pinnacle, the church is built on an immense scale measuring 200 ft x 100 ft wide with tiles brought from Italy and soundproof ceiling, cast to give off perfect acoustic results. Added to its architectural brilliance are the huge stained glass paintings depicting Ascension, birth and Crucifixion of Reverend Jesus thus, completing the trilogy. Each window is made up of small bits of painted glass which are glued and then delicately set into the stone windows. The window to the north which offers a canopy to the altar is very fascinating.
What is alarming here is that Christian fundamentalists across opposing sects have been working in unison to state-sponsored conversion game that is quite evident across Andhra Pradesh. (Dude! Keep that stuff outta-box and as a next blog).
Famed for its 1914 cathedral establishment by Charles Walker Posnett, one of the largest Gothic built (next to Vatican) in this part of south-eastern world, Medak Church can accommodate five thousand people at a time. (^o-o^) This exemplar of piety and beauty came up at Medak after a dreadful famine hit the area around World War I and all but decimated it in a relentless three years. Posnett provided with the food for the starving and as an act of gratification to God built the Medak Church with the labor and love of the people.
Stand amidst pomegranate shades and copious yellow bloom the church looks like a pile of white granite that soars to the sky. A lofty 173 ft high at its pinnacle, the church is built on an immense scale measuring 200 ft x 100 ft wide with tiles brought from Italy and soundproof ceiling, cast to give off perfect acoustic results. Added to its architectural brilliance are the huge stained glass paintings depicting Ascension, birth and Crucifixion of Reverend Jesus thus, completing the trilogy. Each window is made up of small bits of painted glass which are glued and then delicately set into the stone windows. The window to the north which offers a canopy to the altar is very fascinating.
What is alarming here is that Christian fundamentalists across opposing sects have been working in unison to state-sponsored conversion game that is quite evident across Andhra Pradesh. (Dude! Keep that stuff outta-box and as a next blog).
Friday, June 6, 2008
Would you mind if I Confess
Of late…I gotcha few names—bitch, honey, slut and surprisingly I wear them with royalty. In fact, nobody knows that I’m a prostitute. (Not even myself) but I turn to one when desperation strikes and out-of utter loneliness you shuffle under the sheet; a hidden life waits for me.
Normally, I take less than 52-seconds to look at the mirror unless it’s the on every secretive Saturday. Since, I’ve realized that I won’t look anything else than what I am no matter how longer I remain glued to my reflex ion. This is no understatement! But, the mesmerizing Saturdays finally piqued my interest to get a manicure, airbrush the cheeks, and fit myself into sleazy underwear (which otherwise I hate to wear for they smell of my sweaty testicles) to buy myself one expensive night, every weekend.
Sitting at one of the dim-lit table with beer mugs and crazy people shouting, abusing, and make love outdoor I sat like a poster boy while dozen men paraded in front of me one by one, like bowls of sushi on a carousel till they realize ‘I’m one among of them’.
The worst thing in life is freedom. If you’ve have in abundance you tend to abandon. True. How generous. Value comes with a price tag. Now, I know that's rubbish. and I suffer meanness. With loud blaring tunes that ceaseless play on a repeat mode I stare at drop-drop gorgeous and ‘forget its’. Psst. There are men of different shapes and sizes took to ramp; thin lips, papery eyelids, box jawbones, and withered hairline or full-lip, curly with his nostrils flared and eyes black and as big as saucers. But nude!
As party goes to animals, the men’s room, as usual turn to a big hotspot. Groping and elbows are the biggest competition and mind ’ya you need to remain too close to a man for a fluke moment. (There is a bit of nipple play on the disc floor few minutes ago.) The ice cubes with which the urinals were piled gradually melts with some angst at the accumulating piss that many drink down.
All gay men just superficial disco bunnies with only one thing on their minds. Civil liberties…huh! You say, gay life is obscene, debasing, and disgraceful. The point is so am I.
Normally, I take less than 52-seconds to look at the mirror unless it’s the on every secretive Saturday. Since, I’ve realized that I won’t look anything else than what I am no matter how longer I remain glued to my reflex ion. This is no understatement! But, the mesmerizing Saturdays finally piqued my interest to get a manicure, airbrush the cheeks, and fit myself into sleazy underwear (which otherwise I hate to wear for they smell of my sweaty testicles) to buy myself one expensive night, every weekend.
Sitting at one of the dim-lit table with beer mugs and crazy people shouting, abusing, and make love outdoor I sat like a poster boy while dozen men paraded in front of me one by one, like bowls of sushi on a carousel till they realize ‘I’m one among of them’.
The worst thing in life is freedom. If you’ve have in abundance you tend to abandon. True. How generous. Value comes with a price tag. Now, I know that's rubbish. and I suffer meanness. With loud blaring tunes that ceaseless play on a repeat mode I stare at drop-drop gorgeous and ‘forget its’. Psst. There are men of different shapes and sizes took to ramp; thin lips, papery eyelids, box jawbones, and withered hairline or full-lip, curly with his nostrils flared and eyes black and as big as saucers. But nude!
As party goes to animals, the men’s room, as usual turn to a big hotspot. Groping and elbows are the biggest competition and mind ’ya you need to remain too close to a man for a fluke moment. (There is a bit of nipple play on the disc floor few minutes ago.) The ice cubes with which the urinals were piled gradually melts with some angst at the accumulating piss that many drink down.
All gay men just superficial disco bunnies with only one thing on their minds. Civil liberties…huh! You say, gay life is obscene, debasing, and disgraceful. The point is so am I.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Celibate Days
Oh, Mooch? I just came by to say to you, I have nothing to say to you. If I had anything to say to you, I'd say it to myself. I’ve a date with work tonight.
Ah! What a lousy month and do not talk about stuff like ‘did you manage to have a date’. I am back to my celibacy and the sole task is to masturbate ceremoniously before I hit the bed.
Ah! What a lousy month and do not talk about stuff like ‘did you manage to have a date’. I am back to my celibacy and the sole task is to masturbate ceremoniously before I hit the bed.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Red Bandana and Polka Dots
You thought I’m talking Texas…nah! Come to Hyderabad—the city of Nizams, Shiites, and Indian cowboys. (Laughs) To those lily-livered who find my post amusing I should add a statutory note in advance. Nah! Am not gonna tell you the secrets of nights or the masterstrokes but if visiting Hyderabad, this addendum is necessary to spot polka dots on red bandana.
The kewl Salman Khan[1] Wannabe’s (wonder why do they grow the handle bar moustaches); the gangsta turn ‘hip-hop’ masquerading the overcrowded lanes as you watch him from backseat frightfully. Yeah, he probably likes it kinky. And yea, watch his signature brand—the red bandana that knotted loosely to his collar bone with polka dots as he masterly lights the cigarette single-handedly while the other one busy adjusting the steering rod. Watching Hyderabadi auto-drivers zooming the busy busted lanes at a speed of 60-70kmph and the machine go C'tarl-C'tarl, often bouncing or stumbling on the potholes, it’s most insatiable, voluptuous, adventurous, and least-inhibited experience I’ve come across. But you know me…I am independent, forceful, brilliant and not that adventurous.
A friend of mine recently told, it Formula 1 that you take every morning. Even Schumacher would blush watching the heroic antics of the auto-walas. He’s indeed Vin Diesel, Picasso, and Elvis—three-in-one. To feared ones, mind’ya the gangsta gotcha golden heart (puhleez don’t take to literal order for his sweat glands smells vulgarly) and make you listen to blaring music yet ultimately raunchy numbers to soothe your senses. It’s another matter that the Bass and Treble would make you tremble and force you to sing some Zulu numbers with little artistic sensibility.
The Bible calls this day "Armageddon" - the end of all things. And yet, for the first time in the history of the planet, a species has no idea ‘how he gets into it’ and all we may say, Gawd! Speed and good luck to you. The red bandana with polka dots on collar bone takes his eye patch and grin.
[1] An Indian movie actor famous for his muscular built and off-screen antics; a wrong-guy who loved by masses for his wrongful.
The kewl Salman Khan[1] Wannabe’s (wonder why do they grow the handle bar moustaches); the gangsta turn ‘hip-hop’ masquerading the overcrowded lanes as you watch him from backseat frightfully. Yeah, he probably likes it kinky. And yea, watch his signature brand—the red bandana that knotted loosely to his collar bone with polka dots as he masterly lights the cigarette single-handedly while the other one busy adjusting the steering rod. Watching Hyderabadi auto-drivers zooming the busy busted lanes at a speed of 60-70kmph and the machine go C'tarl-C'tarl, often bouncing or stumbling on the potholes, it’s most insatiable, voluptuous, adventurous, and least-inhibited experience I’ve come across. But you know me…I am independent, forceful, brilliant and not that adventurous.
A friend of mine recently told, it Formula 1 that you take every morning. Even Schumacher would blush watching the heroic antics of the auto-walas. He’s indeed Vin Diesel, Picasso, and Elvis—three-in-one. To feared ones, mind’ya the gangsta gotcha golden heart (puhleez don’t take to literal order for his sweat glands smells vulgarly) and make you listen to blaring music yet ultimately raunchy numbers to soothe your senses. It’s another matter that the Bass and Treble would make you tremble and force you to sing some Zulu numbers with little artistic sensibility.
The Bible calls this day "Armageddon" - the end of all things. And yet, for the first time in the history of the planet, a species has no idea ‘how he gets into it’ and all we may say, Gawd! Speed and good luck to you. The red bandana with polka dots on collar bone takes his eye patch and grin.
[1] An Indian movie actor famous for his muscular built and off-screen antics; a wrong-guy who loved by masses for his wrongful.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Some Hyderabadi fun!
If I talk about about Hyderabad and don’t mention the typical hyderabadi hindi then definitely some hyderabadi will come to me and say "Kya Bhiya…kya kare tumin, Hyderabad ke bare mein likh rae kate, aur hyderabdi ke bare mein eech nihin likhe”...Amma-bawa yeheich sekhaiye tereko!
What am I doin here...
It’s a long story short. If you think I'm going back to Delhi, or any other place else all the trouble that got into me, think again, buster! I’m with Nizams in their own homeland. Yes! With biriyani, telegus, and another job, that sucks more. The temperature touching 40 deg Celsius and more, I’m not surprised. But I am surprised why I didn’t think of this before. Not that I'm complaining but won’t mind doing that as well.
Please take some time to ponder on this and I won’t mind being rescued.
Please take some time to ponder on this and I won’t mind being rescued.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
March Ahead!
A journey to be started soon…I mean, another. So, here I go.
Three more days and then I will be outta of dungeon. Another path to tread, another way to go; few more achievements and couple of disasters to face. So, start marching. March forward!! March, march. (Hey!) Stop’ a. This is April. (Oops)
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Liquid Eyes
Wonder what would’ve been the fate, if you’re a pizza boy with those Spanish eyes. Five-foot ten with black stringy hair and liquid eyes that turn Medusa to stone. O! The perfect dud—a big time one. My insides melt like the million pieces of heartbreaks. I can see the squid beneath the sexy eyes, the gorgeous cheekbones, and your eyebrows; they arc gently as opposed to jutting inward, and, well, frankly, you blush in the most adorable way.
You remember Mona Lisa. The woman with no eyebrows smiling at million appreciators I’d buy her a veil for she looks like a ‘drag’ to me. I can’t see (it) in her eyes. [One thing you should know, though, when you go to such lengths to make a statement is never contradict that statement before you've made it.] Huh? Ah... Did I exaggerate now? Neva mind, beauty needs an exaggeration and here I stick it.
Cheerful eyes sits on window frame and speak nothin’ (but) a pair of devil’s dogs. One day, I'm gonna make you cry and dip my cookie in your tears. No, uh, are the lenses for sale? Could you rent them a night for I like to cast a spell on you?
You remember Mona Lisa. The woman with no eyebrows smiling at million appreciators I’d buy her a veil for she looks like a ‘drag’ to me. I can’t see (it) in her eyes. [One thing you should know, though, when you go to such lengths to make a statement is never contradict that statement before you've made it.] Huh? Ah... Did I exaggerate now? Neva mind, beauty needs an exaggeration and here I stick it.
Cheerful eyes sits on window frame and speak nothin’ (but) a pair of devil’s dogs. One day, I'm gonna make you cry and dip my cookie in your tears. No, uh, are the lenses for sale? Could you rent them a night for I like to cast a spell on you?
Holy Holi
Basanti might have refused to dance for the dogs but we will make her dance for you on "holi ke din" The concept of triumph of good over evil is a much clichéd platitude when you think of Holi। No one would ever forget Amitabh-Rekha's Holi song 'rang barse' dancing under the influence of 'bhang' or the joyous holi song from the movie SHOLAY, wherein Dharmendra sang and danced with the bubbly 'Basanti' Hema Malini singing with full gusto। And, when it comes to celebration of colors, the cities from Northern India with its rustic and spirited joviality surpasses all। This Holi? No beer or friends, no sumptuous lunch or colors, and no noise!
Thursday, March 20, 2008
A Favorite Song
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
युंही पहलु में बेठे रहो
यूँही पहलु में बेठे रहो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
हाय मार जायेंगे
हम तो लुट जायेंगे
ऐसी बातें किया न करो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
तुम्ही सोचो ज़रा
क्यों न रोकें तुम्हे
जान जाती है जब उठ के जाते हो तुम
जान जाती है जब उठ के जाते हो तुम
तुम को अपनी क़सम जान-ए-जान
बात इतनी मेरी मान लो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
वक्त की कैद में ज़िंदगी है मगर
वक्त की कैद में ज़िंदगी है मगर
चंद घर्रियान यही हैं जो आजाद हैं
चंद घर्रियान यही हैं जो आजाद हैं
इनको खो करर कहीं जान-ए-जान
उम्र भर न तरसते रहो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
कितना मासूम और रंगीन है यह समां
हुस्न और इश्क की आज मेराज़ है
हुस्न और इश्क की आज मेराज़ है
कल की किस को खबर जान-ए-जान
रोक लो आज की रात को
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
यूँही पहलु में बेठे रहो
यूँही पहलु में बेठे रहो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
युंही पहलु में बेठे रहो
यूँही पहलु में बेठे रहो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
हाय मार जायेंगे
हम तो लुट जायेंगे
ऐसी बातें किया न करो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
तुम्ही सोचो ज़रा
क्यों न रोकें तुम्हे
जान जाती है जब उठ के जाते हो तुम
जान जाती है जब उठ के जाते हो तुम
तुम को अपनी क़सम जान-ए-जान
बात इतनी मेरी मान लो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
वक्त की कैद में ज़िंदगी है मगर
वक्त की कैद में ज़िंदगी है मगर
चंद घर्रियान यही हैं जो आजाद हैं
चंद घर्रियान यही हैं जो आजाद हैं
इनको खो करर कहीं जान-ए-जान
उम्र भर न तरसते रहो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
कितना मासूम और रंगीन है यह समां
हुस्न और इश्क की आज मेराज़ है
हुस्न और इश्क की आज मेराज़ है
कल की किस को खबर जान-ए-जान
रोक लो आज की रात को
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
यूँही पहलु में बेठे रहो
यूँही पहलु में बेठे रहो
आज जाने की ज़िद न करो
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Starving Tuesday
No, I got no problem with Tuesday. It's every other day of the week that's giving me trouble! If Monday night was fillet mignon, Tuesday night was "What else is in the fridge?" And now, I am hungry there’s nothing to cook. I am starving. Hey, I spent years in a cave starving. What's their excuse? Aren't you going to buy me dinner first? Nah, cause I ain't got any damn money (err) energy.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Stinking, Sinking...
Ninety-eight percent of human composition is made of water. If you don’t stir them up once a while, it stagnates. You don’t believe… (huh!) Look at yourself, eating your sandwich like a piglet while I talk. Strangely comforting and stinking stagnated.
My mind now rebels at stagnation. Creativity has gone out of the box and I hold an empty casket. Ugh! Life sucks. The world would be a happier place if everybody would remember two little words: projects sucks. Have you ever seen a Chaos Demon? They're all slime and antlers; they're disgusting. I’m too full of them. It's like a zoo in here. It's SO tacky. I am-I'm going to get out of here...puhhhhleeeeez!
There’s a world out there who thinks I’m intelligent, creative, working, and talented. For heaven’s sake, I don’t anything similar. Eight years down the trash, I went to become a beautician but got a job as shampoo boy in e-learning industry. I dye, trim, and give a cut ‘unnecessarily’ for tips are great. Great job, huh! I'm surrounded by 'funny guys,' but the tips are great. To be honest, I do nothing, except of sit, yawn, suck, hump(ed), listen, meeting, revise, design (if it could be a design), write, eat, and sometime shop. I do nothing. Smart Ass!
I know, that is... awfully - unfair. But, hey! You know life sucks and then you die like a rotten meat, stinks. It still sucks. As a ritual of growing, I smile because I have to (ooh, my jaws now aches).
My mind rebels now at stagnation. Give me problems; give me work that kick the butts of my wit case. Give me the most obscure cryptogram, the most intricate analysis, and I'm in my proper atmosphere. Then, I can dispense with artificial stimulants. I abhor the dull routine of regular existence. I crave mental exultation. That’s why look for new professions for I am the only one in the world.
But d’ya know, no matter where you are, don't be fooled by location changes. Life sucks every where, its same every place.
My mind now rebels at stagnation. Creativity has gone out of the box and I hold an empty casket. Ugh! Life sucks. The world would be a happier place if everybody would remember two little words: projects sucks. Have you ever seen a Chaos Demon? They're all slime and antlers; they're disgusting. I’m too full of them. It's like a zoo in here. It's SO tacky. I am-I'm going to get out of here...puhhhhleeeeez!
There’s a world out there who thinks I’m intelligent, creative, working, and talented. For heaven’s sake, I don’t anything similar. Eight years down the trash, I went to become a beautician but got a job as shampoo boy in e-learning industry. I dye, trim, and give a cut ‘unnecessarily’ for tips are great. Great job, huh! I'm surrounded by 'funny guys,' but the tips are great. To be honest, I do nothing, except of sit, yawn, suck, hump(ed), listen, meeting, revise, design (if it could be a design), write, eat, and sometime shop. I do nothing. Smart Ass!
I know, that is... awfully - unfair. But, hey! You know life sucks and then you die like a rotten meat, stinks. It still sucks. As a ritual of growing, I smile because I have to (ooh, my jaws now aches).
My mind rebels now at stagnation. Give me problems; give me work that kick the butts of my wit case. Give me the most obscure cryptogram, the most intricate analysis, and I'm in my proper atmosphere. Then, I can dispense with artificial stimulants. I abhor the dull routine of regular existence. I crave mental exultation. That’s why look for new professions for I am the only one in the world.
But d’ya know, no matter where you are, don't be fooled by location changes. Life sucks every where, its same every place.
Monday, March 10, 2008
The First of Feminism
On eve of International Women’s Day, as I was in my argumentative best on feminism, the story of Draupadi, one of the prime heroes from the epic saga of Mahabharata undoubtedly taken to centrifugal part of our discussion yet hard to deny.
The daughter of Dhrupad married to five Pandavas gain prominence among critics, audiences, and modern liberators (to be politically correct) precisely for two reasons. First, she was the first of the heroine who practice fraternal polyandry unlike any of her Greek or Roman counterparts and secondly, for having publicly outraged in the courtroom of Kauravas.
Unlike the popular belief, she was not the only heroine who was openly disrobed in an assembly before the elder statesmen. But Hellenic history records that Phryne, a famous hetaera (courtesan) of Ancient Greece (4th century BC) accused of profanity and was also publicly outraged by one of her lovers, Hypereides who while defending her in a trial tore open the robe and display her breasts that moved the judges to change their decision and acquit. (This reminds me of Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction).
The comparison between Draupadi and Phryne is though not parallel but nullifies her (Draupadi) being the sole character who faces outrage and qualify to feminism. In addition, Phyrne was a prostitute while Draupadi was always referred as ‘queen to Pandavas’ (although, Karna the foster child to Kunti called her a ‘whore’ during the game of dice), belonging to royal lineage thus not equating to Phryne. Well, time to think upon the event once more before I confirm.
Interestingly, the question is yet to answer on does Draupadi truly qualifies to be a feminist. Having said that, my so-called repute as ‘a feminist with phalluses’ is now debatable so, rationalizing my thoughts on the foray of scriptural text is to self defense before, you take to brickbats.
One prevalent forms of Vedic race, popularly known as, Mon-Khmer origin of Shaktism follow matriarchal practices or matrilineal succession that indicates dominance of women in the society. I believe this belief is the source to the popular Hindu belief wherein ‘the daughter-in-law is much respected since she’s the carrier of Holy Grail’. Prevalence of polyandry amongst Vedic Aryans is one of the accepted forms, if the ‘man of the house’ is medicinally ‘loss of serum’. Thus, opting to polyandry alliance doesn’t distinctively qualifies Draupadi to be a feminist vis-à-vis other heroines based on the above argument.
Except Bhisma (the only true blood), other generations from the epic drama is born out of legal wedlock either by force or choose to be impregnated by others (e.g. demigods or saint) and not to the direct lineage of Hastinapur. In fact, the first three Pandavas fathered by demigods (e.g. Sun, Vayu, and Indra) to Kunti with consent to her husband. The second wife of Pandu also followed Kunti and mothered to two sons. Thus, all five Pandavas are not directly born to the king but others.
Vedic rule solemnizes that a wife is allowed to ‘have it’ with consent to the husband to other three men (either Brahman or god or belong to the bloodline) to borne son. This customary practice is not only evident in case of Kunti and Madri but also applied to other queens of ‘Hastinapur’. Both the brothers – Dhritarashtra ad Pandu are not the direct lineage to the father but fathered by Vyasa (foster child of Satyavati). In purview to the above case-in-question, if Draupadi qualifies to be a feminist for practicing polyandry she’s not an exception. What makes her distinct however, she chooses to live with five men and not three (defying the Vedic rules of ‘wifehood’) by choice, thus drawn closer to Phryne—the Hellenic courtesan.
This analysis is crucial primarily to find an answer whether Yudhisthira—the eldest of Pandavas have right to lose Draupadi in game of dice and whether the Kauravas were justified in their act at the courtroom game. To be honest, dissemination of events in court room will earn more brownie points to Kauravas than the Pandavas or Draupadi herself. Since, Draupadi does not qualify for ‘wise-sanctioned limit’ under the Vedic rule, the wise king and son of Dhamma does lose his right of ownership. According to Vedic belief, a wife is the possession to her man so Yudhisthira having pawned his wife is righteous for having put Draupadi on sale to the game of dice. But, critics having questioned the act finally opened the Pandora box to the inevitable question of ‘whether Draupadi qualifies to merit of being a wife’ to Pandavas. If not, then Kauravas were not wrong in having stripped a courtesan.
Interestingly, despite modern liberators argue and defend Draupadi as one of the early and true feminist from India she never really becomes a role model like Sita. Draupadi is closer to the times of today and to Phryne. She deserves the attention of the modern women largely because she revolted against all oddities and survives. The transformation does truly bring back to the foray among the leading feminists of all time irrespective of her role and the interpretation under Mahabharata.
The daughter of Dhrupad married to five Pandavas gain prominence among critics, audiences, and modern liberators (to be politically correct) precisely for two reasons. First, she was the first of the heroine who practice fraternal polyandry unlike any of her Greek or Roman counterparts and secondly, for having publicly outraged in the courtroom of Kauravas.
Unlike the popular belief, she was not the only heroine who was openly disrobed in an assembly before the elder statesmen. But Hellenic history records that Phryne, a famous hetaera (courtesan) of Ancient Greece (4th century BC) accused of profanity and was also publicly outraged by one of her lovers, Hypereides who while defending her in a trial tore open the robe and display her breasts that moved the judges to change their decision and acquit. (This reminds me of Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction).
The comparison between Draupadi and Phryne is though not parallel but nullifies her (Draupadi) being the sole character who faces outrage and qualify to feminism. In addition, Phyrne was a prostitute while Draupadi was always referred as ‘queen to Pandavas’ (although, Karna the foster child to Kunti called her a ‘whore’ during the game of dice), belonging to royal lineage thus not equating to Phryne. Well, time to think upon the event once more before I confirm.
Interestingly, the question is yet to answer on does Draupadi truly qualifies to be a feminist. Having said that, my so-called repute as ‘a feminist with phalluses’ is now debatable so, rationalizing my thoughts on the foray of scriptural text is to self defense before, you take to brickbats.
One prevalent forms of Vedic race, popularly known as, Mon-Khmer origin of Shaktism follow matriarchal practices or matrilineal succession that indicates dominance of women in the society. I believe this belief is the source to the popular Hindu belief wherein ‘the daughter-in-law is much respected since she’s the carrier of Holy Grail’. Prevalence of polyandry amongst Vedic Aryans is one of the accepted forms, if the ‘man of the house’ is medicinally ‘loss of serum’. Thus, opting to polyandry alliance doesn’t distinctively qualifies Draupadi to be a feminist vis-à-vis other heroines based on the above argument.
Except Bhisma (the only true blood), other generations from the epic drama is born out of legal wedlock either by force or choose to be impregnated by others (e.g. demigods or saint) and not to the direct lineage of Hastinapur. In fact, the first three Pandavas fathered by demigods (e.g. Sun, Vayu, and Indra) to Kunti with consent to her husband. The second wife of Pandu also followed Kunti and mothered to two sons. Thus, all five Pandavas are not directly born to the king but others.
Vedic rule solemnizes that a wife is allowed to ‘have it’ with consent to the husband to other three men (either Brahman or god or belong to the bloodline) to borne son. This customary practice is not only evident in case of Kunti and Madri but also applied to other queens of ‘Hastinapur’. Both the brothers – Dhritarashtra ad Pandu are not the direct lineage to the father but fathered by Vyasa (foster child of Satyavati). In purview to the above case-in-question, if Draupadi qualifies to be a feminist for practicing polyandry she’s not an exception. What makes her distinct however, she chooses to live with five men and not three (defying the Vedic rules of ‘wifehood’) by choice, thus drawn closer to Phryne—the Hellenic courtesan.
This analysis is crucial primarily to find an answer whether Yudhisthira—the eldest of Pandavas have right to lose Draupadi in game of dice and whether the Kauravas were justified in their act at the courtroom game. To be honest, dissemination of events in court room will earn more brownie points to Kauravas than the Pandavas or Draupadi herself. Since, Draupadi does not qualify for ‘wise-sanctioned limit’ under the Vedic rule, the wise king and son of Dhamma does lose his right of ownership. According to Vedic belief, a wife is the possession to her man so Yudhisthira having pawned his wife is righteous for having put Draupadi on sale to the game of dice. But, critics having questioned the act finally opened the Pandora box to the inevitable question of ‘whether Draupadi qualifies to merit of being a wife’ to Pandavas. If not, then Kauravas were not wrong in having stripped a courtesan.
Interestingly, despite modern liberators argue and defend Draupadi as one of the early and true feminist from India she never really becomes a role model like Sita. Draupadi is closer to the times of today and to Phryne. She deserves the attention of the modern women largely because she revolted against all oddities and survives. The transformation does truly bring back to the foray among the leading feminists of all time irrespective of her role and the interpretation under Mahabharata.
Monday, March 3, 2008
The Odd Man Out
Recognition came after month-long toil but I don’t felt being a member to the group of cheerleaders. For those who didn’t understand what I’m writing or indicating — needn’t have to wrack the last slice of the scalp. I’m not going to reveal.
This is too personal but finally, paid off.
This is too personal but finally, paid off.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
A Sin I Die to Commit...
This pensioners’ paradise, now metamorphosed into a fast-moving baby boomers as number of techno-geeks settled down with their laptops and often jamming mobile connectivity. There’s still much to be spoilt of the contented, laid-back time wrap and ‘pensioners cheque’. Many of us who filtered into the city counting ‘moolah’ and find adjustment as big compromise but the crispy golden sunlight striking the eyelashes and "bun in the oven" is a big compensation.
Learned to derive immense pleasure from staring at blank walls (when you're living alone in an empty home with no TV, definition of what's fun and what's normal takes a back seat) the tradition-old bakeries of Pune is simply unmatchable for their lip smacking assortments.
Almost all my friends who come to Pune from Bombay on their weekend splurge have the special ‘Shrewsbury’ from the 1955-built Kayani’s at East Street, run by the Iranian emigrants. Yea, we all want the butter to melt in the mouth but this is like the virus. Down the block, fantasies come to true as you rest under the Victorian porch of Marz-O-Rin, teething soft and fluffy chutney sandwiches or sweetened donught washed down with butterscotch shakes. Sit quietly in solitude, focus your attention, stimulate your taste buds, and mindfully savor the delicacies from the Pune cafes and bakes spread across the cityscapes.
While walking down Aund Road from Bremen Chowk towards Khadki with plenty of greenery and foliage on both sides, the Lamington at the Spicer College Bakery Shop is worthy for a treat. With chocolate icing and moist sponge cakes, the place serves variety of healthy goodies like carrot cake, nut cake, doughnuts, and Soya milk. If you don't have an oven, there's City Bakery. Their "melted chocolate chip" cookies are amazing. You got your pension and I'll give you this monthly tip to save on gas money and hop at German Bakery at Koregaon, unlike the brethrens at Nepal, Kashmir, and Goa, offering whole wheat breads and Nutella sandwiches with organic or herbal tea and juices from what-not. Its sin and you sell soul to Mephistopheles.
A reason to splurge on bakeries at Pune is most of them produce packed-by-hand bread and sell it over the counter. Soft, supple, and fresh…umm! Lovin’ it
Learned to derive immense pleasure from staring at blank walls (when you're living alone in an empty home with no TV, definition of what's fun and what's normal takes a back seat) the tradition-old bakeries of Pune is simply unmatchable for their lip smacking assortments.
Almost all my friends who come to Pune from Bombay on their weekend splurge have the special ‘Shrewsbury’ from the 1955-built Kayani’s at East Street, run by the Iranian emigrants. Yea, we all want the butter to melt in the mouth but this is like the virus. Down the block, fantasies come to true as you rest under the Victorian porch of Marz-O-Rin, teething soft and fluffy chutney sandwiches or sweetened donught washed down with butterscotch shakes. Sit quietly in solitude, focus your attention, stimulate your taste buds, and mindfully savor the delicacies from the Pune cafes and bakes spread across the cityscapes.
While walking down Aund Road from Bremen Chowk towards Khadki with plenty of greenery and foliage on both sides, the Lamington at the Spicer College Bakery Shop is worthy for a treat. With chocolate icing and moist sponge cakes, the place serves variety of healthy goodies like carrot cake, nut cake, doughnuts, and Soya milk. If you don't have an oven, there's City Bakery. Their "melted chocolate chip" cookies are amazing. You got your pension and I'll give you this monthly tip to save on gas money and hop at German Bakery at Koregaon, unlike the brethrens at Nepal, Kashmir, and Goa, offering whole wheat breads and Nutella sandwiches with organic or herbal tea and juices from what-not. Its sin and you sell soul to Mephistopheles.
A reason to splurge on bakeries at Pune is most of them produce packed-by-hand bread and sell it over the counter. Soft, supple, and fresh…umm! Lovin’ it
Friday, February 8, 2008
Coming Out
It takes 60-seconds to make a confession and fortunately easiest task than few runs of clumsy and emotional roller-coaster. And, trust me you don’t need *balls of steel* but conviction. Don't be stupid! I don't want you to act as saint here. Well, if my employers found, and yes, what if I am fired?
A little confused. I mean, I'm... all sweaty... and trapped, no memory, hiding in a pipe from a vampire. I can't believe what I'm reading. You can't tell a gay guy to come out in real and on his own blog. Gosh! That’s hara-kiri. Fine, but I'm not donning any gay apparel.
Okay, let's keep this short. Recently, while dining with few of my friends at the city’s one of the best restaurant and down with two beer cans. I made a small prayer aloud and confessed. I'm some kind looking for a serial gay basher in them. ‘S’ dropped the menu card and said, “Can you do something about the menu card? There's nothing on it.” (lol)
You got to work free for shift meals or a discount on select menu items.
A little confused. I mean, I'm... all sweaty... and trapped, no memory, hiding in a pipe from a vampire. I can't believe what I'm reading. You can't tell a gay guy to come out in real and on his own blog. Gosh! That’s hara-kiri. Fine, but I'm not donning any gay apparel.
Okay, let's keep this short. Recently, while dining with few of my friends at the city’s one of the best restaurant and down with two beer cans. I made a small prayer aloud and confessed. I'm some kind looking for a serial gay basher in them. ‘S’ dropped the menu card and said, “Can you do something about the menu card? There's nothing on it.” (lol)
You got to work free for shift meals or a discount on select menu items.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Embarrassed…Or…Regret
Dude, recently I broke the superhero secret identity code as I found a deep secret to mine. Oh, Gee…! I’m a super-hero now.
And now with the kitty-cat out (aka toothy fairy tales and prophecies), I felt like nothing less than a super-hero. Eew! No, I'm not really a cat person but the furry things could fit in pairs. So, when I’m born like a million babies born in this part of subcontinent and world across minus the pomp and grandeur…I’ve a secret finally that make me lil’ distinguished. Ain’t so?
Wat’s the secret, boy. Oh! Haven’t I shared with you? He…he!
That winter when my mother strolled to local dispensary to find whether they could do some nice trimming of her unshapely rotund belly. When discovered that it not an early stage or an easy task, the ever defiant ‘mom’ look out for pills that could flush down 6-month foetus. Well, that’s ‘me—to be born’. Discoveries run within my family gene and mothers from generation have the credits of having always discovered the deep secret acts, always. My fairy godmother or my grandmother therefore stepped in to do her part of contribution and cut a historic niche.
Stiff lips and yearning for a ‘male child’ finally dispel the dozes of pills and so, I am born with a lil’ secret to my demi-heroism.
Of recent, when my sneaky mom looked under the rug and found the truth that somewhere sticks to my neurons like ‘glue’: I’m embarrassed or should I rephrase to tell the truth…’I am filled with regret’ for having scrapped the event in a piece of sheet, one lonely evening. Or otherwise, ‘my mom is either embarrassed or regressive’ having discovered the secret discovery.
And now with the kitty-cat out (aka toothy fairy tales and prophecies), I felt like nothing less than a super-hero. Eew! No, I'm not really a cat person but the furry things could fit in pairs. So, when I’m born like a million babies born in this part of subcontinent and world across minus the pomp and grandeur…I’ve a secret finally that make me lil’ distinguished. Ain’t so?
Wat’s the secret, boy. Oh! Haven’t I shared with you? He…he!
That winter when my mother strolled to local dispensary to find whether they could do some nice trimming of her unshapely rotund belly. When discovered that it not an early stage or an easy task, the ever defiant ‘mom’ look out for pills that could flush down 6-month foetus. Well, that’s ‘me—to be born’. Discoveries run within my family gene and mothers from generation have the credits of having always discovered the deep secret acts, always. My fairy godmother or my grandmother therefore stepped in to do her part of contribution and cut a historic niche.
Stiff lips and yearning for a ‘male child’ finally dispel the dozes of pills and so, I am born with a lil’ secret to my demi-heroism.
Of recent, when my sneaky mom looked under the rug and found the truth that somewhere sticks to my neurons like ‘glue’: I’m embarrassed or should I rephrase to tell the truth…’I am filled with regret’ for having scrapped the event in a piece of sheet, one lonely evening. Or otherwise, ‘my mom is either embarrassed or regressive’ having discovered the secret discovery.
Monday, January 14, 2008
TeamWork...Huh!
Teamwork is a pitiful illusion! The only one you can rely on in this vast galaxy is yourself! Face it…We don't work for them [clients]. We work for us. I mean you'll take anyone as long as they'll fuck ya or fight ya. Well let me tell you something buddy boy, those are just little off tabs, little wisps of nothing compared to the nut you'll bust when this whole fuckin teamwork rips you off.
This is my life's work. Everything I've seen and everything I've done it all starts and ends with myself—good or bad. From the first time I failed, I've known it. I've watched myself grow ever since and teamwork led to mess. I had no choice but to find a way to win, no matter what the cost to myself. That's why I had to leave the team.
Now, the most important thing is, we have to work as a team, which means: you do everything I tell you. Okay, look! I don't work for you and you don't work for me. We're a team. Get it? As in 'I will kick your sorry ass if you don't listen to me' team. Let me re-phrase that. It's going to make things *difficult*. We all are gonna put the stupid heads on "together".
This is my life's work. Everything I've seen and everything I've done it all starts and ends with myself—good or bad. From the first time I failed, I've known it. I've watched myself grow ever since and teamwork led to mess. I had no choice but to find a way to win, no matter what the cost to myself. That's why I had to leave the team.
Now, the most important thing is, we have to work as a team, which means: you do everything I tell you. Okay, look! I don't work for you and you don't work for me. We're a team. Get it? As in 'I will kick your sorry ass if you don't listen to me' team. Let me re-phrase that. It's going to make things *difficult*. We all are gonna put the stupid heads on "together".
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Conversation between Me and My Blog
Blog: Long time NO see…
Myself: But, I was not in a mood to say anythin’.
Blog: Anyways’ you don’t talk much of senses, either. So, I don’t mind your disappearance act.
Myself: How rude…?
Blog: Like you…
Myself: Stop complaining...moron!
Blog: First you. On the first take, why did you step-in? Happy being at your sabbatical prayer.
Myself: Uurgh!
Myself: But, I was not in a mood to say anythin’.
Blog: Anyways’ you don’t talk much of senses, either. So, I don’t mind your disappearance act.
Myself: How rude…?
Blog: Like you…
Myself: Stop complaining...moron!
Blog: First you. On the first take, why did you step-in? Happy being at your sabbatical prayer.
Myself: Uurgh!
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