Thursday, August 18, 2011

Miserable South India

If faith is well-ground and belief is personal then, why you need to pay Rs. 100-500 for a temple visit. I am too disappointed with Southern part of India, primarily on two grounds:

  • First, the unkempt and almost ruined heritage which once housed many a great dynasties; forts in South India are into a pathetic state.
  • Secondly, the privileged rows to pay a visit to the deity. No wonder, why the temples in South India procure unaccounted wealth. You are charged get a good glimpse of the god else a ‘free darshanam’ will need a strained and jostling effort yet the god is almost hidden.
 And, then who said India is not a biased land.


Cantankerous Cacophony

I’m your man, Mr. Mephistopheles if god makes any more children. And, I’ve decided to sell me to your harem to get poked with pitchforks by red men with horns and goat-legs than being with bevy of cantankerous cacophonies.

Now, if you’re through with the mumble-jumble; do spill out the beans before I die from unnerving boringasmic. Damn! O.K., with clear thought and throat I proclaim that ‘world could be a nice place to live with adults only if those infants yet to pubertize leave us graciously.’ C’mon you lingbie…else I blow off.

Dear Blog, you won’t understand the point because there’s ain’t a childroid blog to torment thee. What rod? Childroid – the ones who can cause hemroidal pain on your background. Huh! Oh, you don’t believe… (huh, you!)

Fine, hear this: while returning from the most unorgansmic tour from one of the private parts of Southern India which offer nothing apart of teariness; I battled my way to occupy one of the window seats in a snail-like train. Thankfully, the train left the station timely and run amidst the green-filled landscape bringing relief to my sloshed and nicotine-sanitized mind. Droopy eyelids gets heavy as the mild track song sings me a lullaby. The busy compartment filled with strange and unknown Travelers Bum of all shapes, sizes and gender engaged in their selves while I got sleepy and fell sloshed.

An hour might have passed…the train cascaded over the sunshine track through numerous stations while I was sloshed when a screech woke me unwarranted. J-E-S-U-S! No Mephistopheles. Swarmed with gang of childroids – on floor, on the seat, on the passage, blocking the exit door; the compartment looks like a dungeon. (Moron, stop behaving a gay.) HELL-O!

I’d have been less hyper, if the train wouldn’t have delayed for more than two hours to reach the destination that otherwise take five hours. This must be ‘a divine injustice’ coz’ as the train start delaying the horror multiplies. The rest of the journey was a tortuous tour through hell. Screeching children, jumping children, crying children, annoying children – bevy of childroids popping up from everywhere and add to nuisance.

Twitched eyebrows, lips, eye-bags; I try to twitch every possible muscle to express the annoyance but nothing crease out the woe. My 8-hour long nicotine free mind now gets perky and looks for a gunny bag to stuff the bevy of childroids and beat them merciless. I wonder why people are not born adult. Is childhood necessary? F***

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Random and Randomness: When Mind Stop Thinking

It’s time for me to unwind myself and take to sojourn journeys to rehabilitate. Life is otherwise a booing bitch till a travel plan is doled out. This reminds me that “the last time I did the roads is two-year back…” So, before I again set forth and my blog turns into a mini-travel book let’s look at the things around. And, a horror struck.

The world around is burning (where do I step). London is burning, States is in debt. Asia is terrorized and Japan catastrophe. Skeletons tumbling out of the parliamentary closets, the common man shed his/ her immune self, jilted lovers find comfort by axing their ex’s, faggots settling for marriages. Where do I step?

Strangely but deeply, I began to believe that the 21-12-2012 is real. A new order is set to motion and before it happens let me look at the seas, mountains and plains before they all washed off or exploded. 

Birth hood is inevitable and I might born in a new way.