My Days are Counting and Gone

Gays and Societal Repression - My Take

2011-11-13T11:12:00.000+05:30

After following the news that ‘Malaysia condemned Muslim gays’, which we all have got and breathed heavily in secrecy; even though it is for a second; and now when the topic is being sensationalized peppered with views from two different tangents as its support system to rationalize – I like to take a dig. (Well, it’s my gay-ic habitat to dig at this and opine.)

The discussion open two threads – how historic values being distorted and how convulsed religious belief (esp. Muslim) lead to condemnation of gay liberation worldwide.

Histories or no histories – of a nation / state or country have ever influenced society towards ‘gay tolerance’. If that would have been the case, then countries like India, Pakistan, China or United Kingdom would have never seen the rise of LGBT movement within themselves. None of these nations, till date, are full-fledged tolerant to LGBT commune. (No matter, how vehemently we feel proud about being ‘a gay’ we all are closeted at certain levels.) [Brickbats following my way…] Expecting the entire world to be tolerant is like believing to a ‘doomsday’ and sky to fall.

Since I am not a privileged ‘globe-trotter’, hence, I would not like to take case studies of different country, irrespective of my knowledge about world histories and social system. Therefore, I use India and its varied social systems, which I have lived and experienced as the baseline for the talk.

Indeed, we are old as ancient, like the white-flowing beard of Abraham; with rich heritage influencing our architecture to literature to social system. We are first to have exalted ‘pornology’ and named it ‘Kama Sutra’. A book that combines ‘philosophy’ and ‘science’ in a very spiritual way yet sexual all-through – a theory which has never been countered worldwide. When you look at the book closely, it gives way to some of the interesting theories in a sublimated way.

First, ‘sex’ is most important part of our living because ‘a good sex can liberate mind, soul and body from the baser instinct to a spiritual orgasm’. (I wonder why most of the gays from PR snigger when others discusses about sex and only sex – doesn’t our glorified history or philosophy support people to think, talk, eat and sleep sex all through.)

Second, ‘sexuality’ is practiced and got many forms – which are naturally acceptable. There is nothing wrong being a bisexual or zoo-philia or being dominative or kinky; our most exalted literature and murals on the walls of famous temples depicted them with acuteness and adorned. (Why do then, most of the gays from PR turn vindictive to bisexual profiles or domination; leave apart the zoo-philias – people will get heartache, if somebody confesses?) Interestingly, none of these have shown pedophiles or female infanticide, which are man-made and un-natural.

If observed, these paintings or murals are done on the walls of temples or Buddhist caves – which means ‘sexuality’ in any form leads to liberation. Thus, when your minds have done it, and the baser instincts are satisfied then you concentrate on spiritual liberation. A starved and seeking mind can never attain god-likes. Period!

I might be going wayward but not exactly. The reason to highlight the above point is largely to societies have always undergone changes, which fashioned our lifestyles and thoughts, time-to-time; irrespective of how glorified the histories of a nation were. It is therefore the social system but, even that have seen changes in a most rapid form, since its evolution. The community of transgender and trans-sexual have played a formidable role in many of the historic periods of Indian governance but ignored later. We have tales of Timur but nobody knows about admiral Zheng from China. (Sic!) In present world, therefore ‘transgender’ are looked upon with disgust, fear and abhorrence; even among the so-called ‘gays’ who don’t accept them as their own but with reservations.

So, a society always changes under the influence of a political reign. In this context, a similarity could be found between the thread and Malaysians. Now, a political system of a country do draw its influences from the religion that majority practices. In this case, the most controversial – Muslim beliefs is under the scanner.

Coming to Muslims and its fanaticism, ‘yes’, too many cooks have spoiled the broth. But, this is applicable to Christian countries also. In fact, Muslims tend to practice what Mohammed preaches but Christian follow what nobody have stated by stealthily putting them under Jesus’ gown asking the follower to ‘suck him up’. Surprisingly, one of the above comments try to equate Vedas and Koran and Bible (though I am not a right-wing fundamentalist) yet the comparison is absurd.

Vedas are all-comprehensive yet liberated i.e. the interpretations are individualist whereas Koran and Bible are to a large extent, self-governing; thus leading to repressive interpretations. All three have discourses on ‘ways of living’ yet Vedas or Upanishads have never ceremoniously dictated their ways instead stress on the fact, ‘liberation of mind and soul from the worldly ways’. Thus, those who follow it can always interpret the readings in more translucent and individualist order. This is also applicable to Buddhist order.

Comparatively, Mohammed or Jesus in their preaching, have been restrictive and stress on ‘few world functioning as the way to attain liberation’ (like, ‘condemnation to homosexual feelings’ (which is clearly dictated by Mohammed and Moses)). What Jesus and Mohammed have failed to realize is worldly order and society undergoes changes with time; instead they have acted upon more like ‘god’ who knows the secret of life, hell and heaven. Vedas, Upanishads and Buddha never treaded therein.

Now, the teachings or ways of Mohammed are so restrictive that invariably it leads to self repression; which is not a good way. A man or a woman, when follows self-repression tend to have urges towards what is denied. My experience with Muslim men shows that ‘…they practice homosexuality or bisexuality or zoosexuality with ease but never discusses or accept openly.’ Similarly, countries which followed the teachings of Mohammed to bring societal regularization have often witnessed large number of gays in closeted or practiced homosexuality but in denial. In fact, when Article 377 was not diluted we have practiced it and most of the PR-profiles have enjoyed it. In fact, those who were real-time gays or transgender have their own world with own governed rules and we played what we believed with an honesty.

After dilution of 377, what Indian society has witnessed is large number of men folk joining the brigade claiming to be ‘gays’ but act more an opportunists or ‘sex-escapade’. They tread into the gaydom, largely for cheaper and easier way to ‘f***’ or ‘get f***’ thus, causing confusion among the gay order itself and the society. We have lost the rules of game, we have lost the fun and turn into ‘sex slaves’ or ‘whores’ to be precise.

Why I am ranting so much? The reason – I believe, is because, a society must have certain regularization else too-much democratic way leads to nothingness. It is too early to be panicky or shocked with the news. We need to look at how Malaysia and the states, in discussion, take the ruling to the people – if it leads to a catastrophe then we might need a serious discussion. We must agree ‘majority of the world is a householder’ and gayism is an opportunity but inherent practice. [Rest in peace.]

Searching Paigah Tombs @Hyderabad

2011-11-10T10:45:00.002+05:30

It was to keep the dead peacefully, after they are gone. The sunny surroundings warming the cold bodies in dark graves are a refreshing ‘find’ to otherwise, ruined historic Hyderabad. In fact, I’m bored looking at the city ruins – dilapidated and sandy; a painful eyesore.

And, after three years of haul; finally the discovery is enthusing in many ways. The rich stuccoed and intricate ‘jalis’ of Paigah Tombs, or as locally famous ‘Maqhbara Shums-Ul-Umra’ tucked in one of the dingy alleys is almost a discovery or invention. Created in 1787, the several generations of Paigah nobles were found to have their graves in this particularly gorgeous mausoleum where the sunrays from the perforated marble screens draw geometrical designs and floral patterns on the calm marble floors.

[Unfortunately, many of the Hyderabadis are unaware of its existence, even the Google Maps shows a more complicated route; which leads to a graveyard instead. The best way to make to Paigah Tombs is to hire an auto from Yakutpura Railway Station to Owaisi Hospital, Santosh Nagar. The tombs are located in the lane opposite to the hospital.]

Bye! Bye! Durga Puja...

2011-10-10T09:47:00.000+05:30

It arrived and passed, like the past years. With all the thrills, joys and celebrations casketed in sweet lil’ boxes with silver foil and given away; life is back to regular activities. (Huh!)

And, my usual rambling started...

This is first, in three years, when I was left home alone after ‘Az’ has dumped me out. I tried to break free often but no avail. Sit back home, stared the walls, watched porn, and slept for hours. Next time, dear lord, please do not visit because occasions make me ‘sick’ and ‘lonely’.

Planning to re-work on my sagging blog posts; what do you feel?

Stranded and Strangled Life!

2011-09-29T20:14:00.000+05:30

Another year…another festive season!

This is the third year, in a row, when I will be at home with myself. I’ve almost forgotten the sweet fragrance of embers in ‘pandals’; the mesmerizing thousand lamps and beautiful kohl-laden eyes of Durga.

One more year (this time)…and I will be at den; sulking and wounded.

Miserable South India

2011-08-18T11:39:00.002+05:30

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

2011-08-18T11:00:00.000+05:30

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***

Random and Randomness: When Mind Stop Thinking

2011-08-10T09:21:00.000+05:30

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.

Indian Railways

2011-07-12T14:13:00.000+05:30

Dear Minister…

This is an open letter, could be high on emotion, but deserving an honest version that any of the review statement churned from bureaucratic masturbation after responsibly dissecting the causes of train accidents in India. My version is neither populist nor propagandist rather heartfelt.

To the best of my memory, the last time I ever had lost any of my relatives in a train accident dated back to 1940s. Those were the time; when travelling by train was nothing short than a ritualistic practice with passengers tucked into a holdel (an un-fashioned military bedroll) and carry a personal porter too. Train journeys were considered as stress-filled and often sinfulicious. Interestingly, the concept of coal engines and waiting rooms add glamour to the journey. During one of those journeys, my distant maternal grandmother met with an accident and left abode. I was unborn then.

Generations of childhood, in our family, have been told the story and the harrowing experiences about how the family members’ strugglefest to trace her body lying under a heap of corpse. She was in her teens and newly married – petite, beautiful and young. Her body when handed over was charred, disfigured and partially decomposed. She was gone but her ordeal remains a talk-point during many of the train accidents we have witnessed, over the years.

Since then, my family has made many a train journeys. Some did it frequently while other occasionally but, we did enjoyably. We travelled alone, we travelled with families; we travelled during the happy summer vacations and (yes) when critical emergencies struck household. In fact, many from my generations and generation preceding us, has spend most of their memorable moments with Indian railways and still cherish them lifelong.

Indian railway, during my generation and ones preceding, is the lifeline to us. The mud-cup filled with sweetened milky tea was the favorite drink with unmatchable taste. The stretched acres of land with rows of palm trees, or the large banyan groves where men resting in a sunny day, or the changing land from red-to-brown-to-black; seen through the window of a moving train, brought us close to a realization about the vastness of our country called ‘India’. Indian railway contributed to our learning when we were child.

For me, the Indian railways always had a special connection thus it pains to witness it Erod. The proponents might misguide it as ‘advances’ but amidst of yearly up-gradations the system falters to meet the basic and fundamental requiries.

Dear Ministers, there are many a thing that the commission report never register except of number of casualties or the tariff rates or the new introductions in rail route; is how a commoner like me, feel when travelling around. If you pay notice:

I don’t feel secure about the iron tracks anymore. They no more shine like they do when I was a child. In fact, the last time when I walked by the train tracks I noticed scratches and the screws are being rusted. Can you polish the tracks once again and spare few crones to buy new ones?
My hometown is in Delhi while my relatives stay eastwards. Thankfully, we got ample of trains – so many that often we end up not reaching the destination on-time due to traffic congestion. On the other hand, when I settled in southern part of the country, due to professional compulsion, I almost lost being in touch with them. We got only few trains to connect and all of them remain over-booked (seasonal or unseasonal) so my mother can’t visit me often. She is sixty and diagnosed of having acrophobia. Can you make more frequent trains connect the north to south than north to east ways?
Ah! Interestingly, when India became an IT-hub and almost all my relatives or friends start doing something or other with computers – we become the most technologically developed country. Yet, none of us have a full-fledged and flawless online railway system to build – neither the nation nor department. What a shame?
My paternal house is located in distant suburbs of Kolkata where there was an unmanned check post. When I was child, we used to cross the tracks to reach the platform. It was 20-years back but 20-years later, during one of my Konkan vacation I have crossed multiple unmanned check posts and faulting signal systems to reach destinations. Life returns to a circle but with where we have the ‘proclaimed advancements’.
Hospitality! A distant word that loses its definition either airways or railways. I’m sure we don’t mind spending few extra bucks while reserving a berth; provided the washrooms are cleans, water is safe and free-flowing, environment is hygienic, and food is hot and tasty.
While writing the above comment, I stumbled upon the word ‘reservation’, which we need but rarely gets. Three-month advances, multiple changing of dates still ‘no tickets’ unless a tout is religiously followed.
The arrival and departure of trains coined the term Indian Standard Time (or IST), which invariably means we don’t mind being late or never be on time. An efficient traffic system and all of the above could definitely change the meaning, if acted with diligence.

The moral: While the Indian Railways seems to have perfected rescue and relief operations following accidents, it has not met with much success when it comes to accident prevention. The safety drive needs a review to identify the grey areas — be it signalling, track replacement, or the status of the rolling stock. It is time the political class stopped viewing the Railways as a plum platform for patronage disbursal and saw the Railways for what they are: a vital, but failing component of India's transport infrastructure that has the capacity to make or break the nation's competitiveness.

Ministries must work now lest it could get too late.

Burden of Love

2011-07-12T09:31:00.002+05:30

When debt began to burden your soul, it’s time to payoff. Love follows the same path. I no more feel, it’s worthy to write about ‘love’ so passionately because the passion dried. And, now I realize: “people have won their ways to be with me till they feel there’s nothing left”. So, time to put him in a trash-bin. Adieu love!

A Woman in the Chapel

2011-07-11T13:46:00.001+05:30

Sitting before the altar with her fingers clasped to each other resting on her chest; her head bowed with a few streaks of loosened hair veil her eyes. She shed a single drop of tear. She spoke the most silent prayer.

A demure, frail woman as she wants the world to picture her but images could be deceptive. She wasn’t meant to be a skylark or a doe; nestling in a broken elevator and look at the weather change. With her ambitious wings spread, she can eclipse the sunny sky with thickened darkness where calm-bloodied moon shines.

The immortal Maria! It all changed when the ambitious-bee dunks her so deep that she didn’t mind walking down the memory lane, as one of the most notorious femme-fatale of crime of passion. Two of her victims – a naval officer and a media-man battled for her till one of them lie down in his grave while other languish in the jail.

Lovelorn Maria as she reclaims. None of them loved her soul but the body; and this enraged both to struggle till one of them pulls the dragger and the body fall. Poor girl, Maria! Grievously, she witnessed him bludgeoning and hackneying the body of second consort to pieces before they were exhumed in a deserted place. Maria stood by the survivor, like the Lady Macbeth, compassionately. A passionate crime or crime of passion that she witnessed, designed, and executed with ambitious grandeur; ironically exonerated by one compassionate judgment.

For three years…she watched the weather change in the sky from her pigeonhole…now, the sky remains prostrated but her fangs clipped. (Betrayed Maria!)

About New Self!

2011-07-11T10:03:00.002+05:30

I am nothing but ‘a chronicler’ – of the times and my life. Both changes in most dramatic ways and often narrate a sordid story.

Love Him...I Mean the Writer

2011-05-05T18:00:00.000+05:30

For a long time, I was searching for a suitable inspiration to rejuvenate my otherwise, fading pen. This article published by DAWN, a daily from Pakistan, did it. Thanks to the man who taped the conversation. I am lovin' him.

Read it here: http://www.dawn.com/2011/05/05/dead-man-and-the-sea.html

Tere Liye...

2011-05-04T20:18:00.000+05:30

दर्द की क़ैद से लील'लाह बचाले मुझको
अब सुकून धुन्दती है, ख़ाक नज़र मेरी...

My Veritable Thought

2011-04-16T22:40:00.000+05:30

At times, I surprise myself to extreme. This is one for record that made me realize ‘what’ve I spoken’. In fact, I am poked to make speech ‘like this’ not realizing the veracity of my words being so profound and truthful.

“Men can never be loyal. He was not even loyal to his own God when he ate the fruit from the ‘Tree of Wisdom’. Ah! Then, he goes shy and put his cowardice act to be the ‘fallen hero’ and gain sympathy. But did ‘ye talk about Eve – fallen, disgraced, cursed yet; she remain loyal to ‘her master’ throughout.

Gays have more of woman in them. Don’t you know we love loyally and disgraced always,”

I am Humble Citizen (With No Voice)

2011-04-10T11:43:00.001+05:30

Amidst the recent uproar and candle-light marches for Anti-corruption in India’, I maybe a humble citizen with almost no voice yet I like to say a few things to the committee setup for Lokpal Bill and government.

If we look at the key issues that led to the movement, they are:

Politicians and bureaucrats misuse their power and primarily involve with act of bribery. A major portion of which goes into their own pocket through ‘International banking accounts’.
Politicians involved within scam or other corrupted practices, enter into the election fray, unless they are declared ‘guilty’ by the court of law.
Our court practices or judicial system is cumbersome and articulate which invariable lessen the effect of ‘being punished’ if people are found to be involved in corruption.
What makes the system fail is largely the association of investigating agencies and committees setup the government which are either ‘hand-in-glove’ or ‘feeble’ to act bravely and honestly.
Punishment orders sanctioned under the court of law either fee-penalty or years of bail able imprisonments.

So, although we claim to be the largest democratic nation we are prey to authoritarian cudgels. The reason, I can’t support for a negative voting, as many have said is because it involves ‘extra cost to the country’ and ‘a debatable issue’ for when to conduct a negative vote. Therefore, what remains to us are few of the options:

A parallel process of top-down and bottom-up system should be taken into consideration. Receiving bribe, if considered as a crime, it is equivalent to offer a crime. Thus, government also has the equal right to maintain a check-and-balance. It also instills a fear among the commoners to offer bribe and get prosecuted.
Individuals with criminal or corrupt records, even if not prosecuted or found guilty under the court of law, should not have right-to-vote and right-to-elected. Information about MLAs, MLCs, and MPs should be available over the public domain to review prior to each parliamentary session.
Special fast-track courts should be setup to try the cases with information available to the public to monitor and review the court proceedings. The investigative bodies should be independent and free to submit their report without any sanctions from Law Ministry. Rather, President or Vice President of the country could have a ruling on the same.
Individuals found to be guilty in the cases, should be punished heavily with both fee-penalty and years of imprisonments. Additionally, the scammed amount should be confiscated by selling the properties of accused and his/ her family members (who are indirectly benefitted) and return to the Treasury.
Importantly, the committees entrusted to look upon the cases should be accountable and free to act independently reporting directly under the supervision of President or the Vice President of the country.
Transparency is important to eradicate ‘corruption’ from the civil society. Secrecy within a business and the failure to disclose important information about specific projects can facilitate the payment, receipt and concealment of bribes. Given the challenges posed by distance and unfamiliarity with overseas customs and regulations, businesses may wish to consider how to monitor the implementation of anti-bribery procedures in overseas offices and business partners.
A review committee or President should be made accountable to inspect and verify the sanctity of the commission and its weekly proceedings. An independent review committee overlooking the Investigating Commission and Personnel can be helpful in providing agencies undergoing structural change, or accessing records, with an insight into the strengths and weaknesses of its anti-bribery policies and procedures and in identifying areas for improvement.

It’s hard to claim to be honest but trying to be one can be beginning step.

What's Wronging If Gandhi is Gay?

2011-04-09T00:01:00.000+05:30

Shot inside a tacky studio, the black and white photograph with two men dressed in loose-fitted casuals each spotting a prominent moustache and a bald head; could be anything but least impressive unless some chirpy birdie inform you ‘they’re couple’. A shrill passes through your veins and widened the iris to read through. (O! Yea…). The man on the left has his right foot angled above and slighted to other man’s feet. The burly man seated on the right has his toe arched to the angled feet. [I spotted…I spotted… I spotted…Yea!] Ain’t it another homoerotic fantasy? (Duh!)

The photograph would never had find its place in the history of mankind unless you’re been told – That’s Mahatma Gandhi with Herman Kallenbach. Salacious! A naughty smirk smoothens your facial muscle and you wink.

A revolutionary from the Asian peninsula, by his own right, who inspired the country of billions and many other nations to fight for independence lost his own to ‘Mahatma-ism’. Ah! It’s tough to be ‘God’ or ‘God-like’ coz’ you live with the fear of being crestfallen. The Gandhi, we know, is a victim of avatar-syndrome and remained controversial throughout his life and after. Torn between Puritans and Radicals – Gandhi remain as a subject to experiment for multifarious truth untold. Coincidentally, he himself has authored ‘My Experiments with Truth’ to flag. Do Gods or God-like men have sex?

Ssshhh…! Are you on weeds?

Heavens! Weeds were generously chewed by Lelyveld who in a high; was busy sniffing the stinking Gandhi’s loincloth that smelt of Her-man. Agree, ‘the white westerners has a morbid fascination for Gandhi’s sexuality’ but then, such a colorful personality who once lived in his see-through loincloth and traveled bare-chested and sleeping naked with 17-year old Manu (his great niece) and other young women, is enough to fuel the fascination. But…I’ve a question.

Gandhi wrote many letters which are studied by scholars to gain an insight to the mind of this ‘great man’ and contributed to cement his position as ‘Mahatma-to-the-world’. Many of these letters talk about his views on nakedness, sexual chastity, state of yogic self-control, strive for spiritual purity that the world has read and accepted hands-down. Then, why there’s a clamor when certain biographer’s extract shows him as ‘racist and homosexual’. What are we more concerned – Gandhi being ‘a racist’ or ‘a homosexual’?

I believe it’s the later one – homosexuality. It is the tabooed word, in a traditionally-thickened society that everyone practices, in their closet, but never agrees to the term. Whether blame it to the archaic rule sanctioned and imposed by the British Government OR the boxed Indian values that practiced as social customs – dual Indian values on homosexuality is an evident. So, the new biographer when reveal ‘a homosexual Gandhi’ – The Nation and those with a capacity for sane and logical thinking were hurt. Gandhi could be anything but never ‘homosexual’. (Ha! Ha!)

As a gay, I might be a depraved, immoral filth but the term ‘Upper House’ and ‘Lower House’ is evidently homoerotic signatures and quoted in Gandhi’s letter to Herman. So, he claimed to be the ‘giver’ while Herman though ‘macho’ receives. (Wink, wink!) Interestingly, a close scrutiny of rare footages makes me believe that ‘the great man’ is quite effeminate. Look at his sitting postures, feeble tone: and a quote from Manuben “…Gandhi as my new Mother”. My various escapades for sex with wild and robust men who claimed to be ‘Upper House’ show signs of effeminacies after years. Thus, they turn into ‘Lower House’ as they grow old. Similar resemblance can be found from Gandhi’s self-proclamation, “…by becoming a woman” as Bose written in his autobiography.

But, my intent to write this blog is NOT to assassinate the character of somebody who’s god-like, because irrespective of his flaws and follies, he remain a great inspirer to the world through non-violent practices. In simple terms, he’s indeed a great man but definitely not ‘a Mahatma’. The intent is to analyze the issue of ‘gay-ism’ in a society, where I live, after Article 377 has been castrated.

Whether, Gandhi nurses homosexual tendencies and prefer ‘men’ over ‘women’ in his personal life is strictly a private issue which needn’t be hurtful, if the society accept ‘homosexuality’ as a normal act. Except of the fact, we can’t beget but definitely ‘try it hard’. [Gosh!] Let, Gandhi be not judged for what he prefer rather accept him the way ‘he was’ because he ain’t a Mahatma but, ‘Father of the Nation’ deservingly. So, is homosexuality around you – accept it with no snigger or shame coz’ they are one among ‘you’.

It doesn’t burns, mutilates, defaces, defiles, disfigures, destroys, or tramples upon your faith. It needs a support and recognition to remain humane. So is Gandhi who will remain ‘Gandhi’ – whether gay or un-gay.

A World Cup...Till Then!

2011-04-04T21:08:00.000+05:30

The party stopped, the flags didn’t waive, a deafening silence fall as billions of Indians watch the ‘Lord of Cricket’ walked back to the dressing quarters as the team grasping at 31/2. For past 28 years…the multiplying billions have waited and now, they have to wait more.

Cricket, [through un-written law] is not a gay-ish game rather looked down compared to rugby yet made me seat at the edgy corner and bite the nails exasperatedly. The moments are getting tough, real, and suffocating. But ain’t World Cup is all that especially when your team is fighting for the title.

I was barely 8 years old to understand the importance but definitely a proud witness to 1983 Prudential Cup when Kapil Dev lifted the cup amidst jubilation and surprises that created a history in itself. Past 28 years, we reminiscence the historic moment; we watch the moment telecasted and re-runs until hope deflates. Till the year 2011 happened…

The adrenaline rush, the edgy seats, the swooning-thumping-and-deafening roars hold a perfect stage for the billion people to wish for a dream. And, what a match it is? Indian team with a staggering start turned as fighter hitting every ball and then a big SIX for the finale. Everything else then was a history. The maidens [Zaheer] bowled, haunting apparitions of failed Tendulkar and Sehwagian era, and wayward Sreesanth who over-spelled – all now a part of history that no one care.

What remains is! A revelry. I was barely eight and once Kapil Dev lifted the cup I went back to sleep. But, twenty-eight years later I realized what is meant when dream comes true. Was been out for while...its a reverly going around my house. Crackers! Horns! Screams! And a World Cup to every billion of us. (I can't stop smiling for the past 15 minutes now.)

Emotionally Yours...

2011-03-26T19:45:00.000+05:30

Let me burn the bridges between you and me…

The dark soil will then leads to the path

…with burning embers of anguish

Nazist-Fascist Corporate Fool

2011-03-10T09:54:00.000+05:30

I ain’t surprised to one of the recent reports (indialeaks.in) where a self-promoted professor namely Saxena is given the charge of director after his predecessor completed the term. The controversial claim happened to scrutinize Mr. Saxena’s unconstitutional moves such as appointing a Dean with dubious records, reviewing and reversing the past orders, and made a mess of the entire teaching business.

The icing on the cake was however remains as he took the ‘cherry’ to himself by promoting himself without forming any expert committee. Holy Jesus! He has taken every rule for a ride. The news report concluded with a plea to raise the voice against injustice.

I’ve something to add. This is not one such case but only reported. Personally, I know atleast one such high-handed person who’s a self-proclaimed follower to Hitler and support the Devil’s mind emotion. The man, like Saxenaji, has been terminated by the past-employee on the ground of lack of competency managed to have occupied a crème-da-crème position with another competitor (thanks to slacked HR policy). Among the unchallenged liliputians thus, he hold a durbar thronged with equally incompetent courtiers and make fuzzy mess unreported.

I’m happy to know another Saxena-in-closet and grant him a 21 ballistic salute with a hope that one of those bullets will hit [his] groin. Amen!

Pizza Delivery @10 A.M.

2011-03-07T15:26:00.000+05:30

When the global recession was melting the world market, I was securely into a job which need to me be seated for a strenuous hours to get the hard-earned moolah. Most of these, however, go back to the market – shopper malls and fast food joints, as I am one of the self-proclaimed fine diner. But, how vulnerable could be my life I wouldn’t have realized unless I had the experience of talking to a tele-operator who called upon me.

The event occurred on a Sunday morning, 10:15 A.M. to be precise. After dodging the streaming traffic at Begumpet main road and having exchanged cuss-word with couple of auto-drivers; I finally hoped into ‘one’ with faulty meter (discovered later). It was then the operator called me while I was busy making a mental map of grocery items to add, subtracts or multiply for the month.

Struggling to remain seated with constant dribbling and bumps, I have shown much of chivalry to the highly accented lady on the other side, which normally I don’t do. The fault lies with me indeed! [However, given here is extract of the conversation between me and lady operator from Dominos Pizza, Hyderabad]

Operator: “Hey low saar! I am culling from Dominos Pizza and we got e-special[l…] tan-percent off on Double Bust pizza with Choco-Lava cake at Rs. 25/- Free.”

First, it was a shock then I was fumbled with the idea of how could twenty-five rupees for a choco-lava cake could be considered ‘Free’. But, I was more flabbergasted with what is expected from me hence, I grumpily asked the lady with a twitched expression.

Me: “O-K! What you wanna me to do now?”

Operator: “Yes saar!”

Me: “What yes? What you want?”

Operator: “Saar, you get e-special[l…] offer from Dominos of 10% for ordering Double-bust pizza…”

Me: Are you going to return me the money for the pizza I have ordered last night?

Conversing with most tele-operators from retail sector worthily boost your morale of being ‘well-learned’ compared to fellow callers. It’s a myth, like many others, among us [Indian] to believe that we are more learned than many of the world population because we help them to make the computers. The truth is, those among us who use these computers hardly understand a well-constructed statement in English using American or British grammar irrespective. The lady is the fine example of what not to speak to a tele-operator working in India.

Operator: What sir?

Me: What “what sir”? I’m not getting what you wanna say. BTW, I’m on road. I am travelling. You can call me later.

Operator: Saar, sir! One minute.

Me: Now, what?

Operator: Saar, if you order a double-pizza now you get 10% off as per the scheme. You’re one of the chosen candidates from our database who get to win this offer.

Me: OK, fine. I’ll keep a note of that when I place an order. And, thanks for that.

Heavens! Either she is dumb or it is me. It take both of us 7-minute to get to the actual motif of the call. Undeniably and humbly, I was elated because I haven’t had the opportunity to win anything ‘Free’ or ‘On Offer’ so far in my lifetime. Bless the lady and the company. But, I think there were more unimaginable surprises in store which I have to counter.

Operator: Sir, you need to place the order now to get the offer.

Me: What you mean ‘NOW’?

Operator: I mean, you can place the order for any double-bust pizza with us. Can I take your order?

This left me to a bizarre state. I am baffled, amused, annoyed, fumbled and deeply puzzled. And, surely it could leave others into a same mindset if somebody asks you to eat a double-breasted or busted pizza at 10’o clock in the morning while you’re on your way to grocery store. I should have disconnected the call by making myself believe it’s one of the regular jokes which you get on other day. But I couldn’t and carried that for some more time. What a waste?

Me: W-HAT? You wanna me to eat a double-busted pizza at morning 10:30 while I am on road inside an auto. Is this a kind-a-joke?

Operator: You can place the order now. We will deliver it to your add-rest

Me: Holy Jesus! Who hired you? Who gave you the job, honey?

Operator: Par-don me.

Me: What holy shit is this? You are calling me at morning 10’ish with damn’ offer and expect me to eat a double breasted or busted pizza while I am travelling on road. What made you think somebody would ever respond to such weird calls.

Operator: I am sorry sir…

Me: You better be. And, for holy sake put down that goddamn’ receiver.

The audacious operator, however, not sure whether I am asking her to send me a parcel or not so she confirmed, “What should I write sir? Interested or Not Interesting.” My patience however, has been tested to the full throttle and I have no more.

Suddenly, I was reminded of old saying “It’s dangerous to argue with a fool”. So, I disconnected the phone and shifted my attention to the faulty meter to start a fresh argument.

Emotionally Eroded

2011-03-07T11:19:00.001+05:30

…in fact, I’ve start to erode gradually but fast. A careful comparison with things around brought me close to telephone set in my house which, in a mobile world, gone silent to extinct. So, am I.

From a geeky, ambitious, with bouts of random emotional overflow at the drop of hat, I’ve been to force to live in a burrow, cajoling myself to daydream to remain engaged neurotically. I fast more often, help myself to get hourly glistening, and silent. I’ve become extinct.

It’s hard to remain alive with so much of constant erosion – professionally and personally occurring at the same time. And, I’m drained off thinking ‘why the world been so harsh to me’. A silence reverberates. So, till I’m prescribed dead I’m left to breathe and emotionally eroded.

Dreaming Last Night

2011-02-28T10:00:00.001+05:30

Most often, I end up dreaming now-a-days. Not a good sign though but it’s a kind of escape from current state. And, last night I dreamt about being dead – leaving my bereaved mother. It was a sorry[ful] sight but I found myself sleeping nonchalantly.

No friends, no shrouds, nobody around – it was quiet death, and I was laid in some unknown earth by few men. I dreamt of my mother listening to the rituals and was the only person “sad”. [Sigh!] This brings me back to normal senses and spent the night recalling one person who’s close to me; I find none. All are ‘history’. [Hmmph!]

Living among Homophobes and Homosexuals - A Tie

2011-02-27T17:56:00.000+05:30

Okay, everyone got these fundamental rights like ‘a flaccid dildo’ – have it on the closet but unusable. That’s what the ‘Big Book’ says. So, last week we had a dildo fight.

It all started when a regional news cramp from undersexed staffers sneaking into the private chambers of few gay men and end up sniffing them unwashed. However, the best is yet to come (or cum). High on their orgasm, these crew-members start ejaculating televizle ending into a society creampie. Jesus!

Well, somebody has to pay the price […in a homophobic world]. So, they pick a few ‘un-naturals’ (I don’t support); made them look sleazy, soft-core maniacs and did an expose. Come on! What a journalistic masturbation! Did somebody realize it’s an intrusion and exposing that the world is either homosexual or homophobic? Goddamn’ revelation.

So, what the ‘Big Book’ did then? Snub the fundamentals. (I got an advice. ‘Let us live’: we do no harm. But make a living by loving [our] self.) To the moral police: Don’t you have better things to do in life?

Eroding Education - 1: (Series Post)

2011-02-13T11:08:00.001+05:30

I’m an Instructional Designer [since it will take hours to explain my job so better skip that for another post] worked with oppressively numbing cubicles in hermetically-sealed offices with Corporate Alzheimer’s; my job sucks!

Interestingly, one of my workplace recently published a sales presentation wherein claim to bring change to the lives of 3.8 million people that inspires me to write the blog. (Unedited reaction: WTF!) Excuse me Corporate Ballers, did anyone realize that we do nothing but produce pseudo-animated content over the Flash application and host it over a Management System to bring moolah. Neither the client nor we cared whether it makes any contribution or not. Outrageous!

Proponents of Instructional design and eLearning gurus may take any offence but I’ve a reason to my big mouth. This goes as a disclaimer which will be ignored as a common practice.

First and foremost, we are protégés of an education system that force students to ‘rote’ their lines without realizing the conceptual framework; and secondly, we’re made to believe a fact straight-jacketed than question or discover them. No doubt, National Education System is at grave degradation phase. Thus, we can’t revive or bring a change to a single, forget the millions. [Hyper-reactive agents can react now.]

Now, let’s debate. According to my opinion (which I’ve on everything around me) we ain’t made as ‘thinkers’ thus we can’t be good educationist. Period. Our self-learning is based on politically-practiced education thus; we can’t rationalize our own thought beyond belief. We are the by-products of the education system that politically muzzled to make citizens a state or nation.

Citizen, as universally defined, is a native or naturalized member of a state or political community. Thus, he/she is a political person [who] owns certain rights or duties towards the state or the nation to which it belongs. Hence, the two word – ‘citizen’ and ‘politics’ should be used interchangeable and inseparably. Now, how does this influence the education system of [our] society?

This is a big mess. A citizen being a political person has its own belief based on certain principles or dogmas propounded by leaders who influences the thought. Every man is not a leader or a thinker. Some seeks inspiration. [Factual tip: Most follow and few leads.] This is the key to erosion within the education system and learning process or a citizen gradually.

Gifted with special oratory skills, the leader(s) always has an edge over the fellow citizen because they grow powerful in a society to the extent of being invincible and authoritative – both into a Democratic or Fascist environment. You can’t avoid this or control. No voting out is not the solution. It’s a mechanism to replace one political system/ ideology with another without changing the fundamental issue. And, what is that?

In a political system, leaders believe to bring a change and set an example that continues to exist for the rest of the Earth Life. In a process, leaders get involved in brainstorming to shape the nation’s education system and use it as a mode to propagate. Citizens read what the system offers. Thus, leading to the conflict of thesis and anti-thesis within a politically charged society where a particular ideology is strongly enforced and forcefully.

In an instructional way, ‘forced learning’ is a formula to educational and mental depravation. Generations after generations of Earth Life we succumbed to it thus, education in the modern society that eroded beyond recognition.

Education is the fundamental platform to make citizens of a state or nation and should [be] freed from political or biblical governance. If [education] is impartial in nature, and not influenced or governed by the political institutions, [it] invariably leads a person to rationalize, question, and inquire till they discover.

I would love to throw examples to support my theory but hold them meanwhile for other posts; thus creating a thread for future discussion. To conclude, “…education system doesn’t need a revision but absolute rebuilding”. Given this purview, I don’t agree that web learning solution companies in India (at least) could even contribute or have scope of action within.

The sales presentation should read, “…we are edging faster to a Corporate Cannibal by notoriously by eating up the Mom and Pop elearning shops out of business.” Come let’s be the party poachers.

One Serious Blogging Finally

2011-02-11T22:33:00.000+05:30

Tuesday morning 7: 30 a.m.

Logged into my system and then to Facebook like any other day. But, it wasn’t a usual day – it can’t be one again. Posted with photographs of giggling friends in the [now] unkempt lawns of the institution that played a pivotal role in my growing up; my Wall was never as colorful as it is today.

Ah! The School…the school friends…the famous Spring Fest…

In fact, nothing has changed except of the ceiling that heavily needs a plastering, wooden benches that need carpentry, and wall that needs to be repainted. Despite of shortfalls, the old lady stands in silence with bellowing holiness within. She witnessed many school-goers [like me] crawled onto her and then, left. Years-after-years!

Personally, I’m go-getter kinds who lend many but borrowed a zilch. I’m quite a brooding old autocrat quite old-fashioned and speak a lot. I boast for having ‘never begged’ even when I need the most – [but] – had never returned to the institution which made my beliefs. I never realized or cared to paint the walls, or replace the broken glasses or offer a hand to facelift – the institution.

Springs after spring…more depreciation added. And, this spring a piety within me have usurped. Time to give back; time to give it back to one that matters ‘the most’.

First Photo Blogging

2011-01-22T11:06:00.001+05:30

Of late, I am concentrating hard to become a Pro-Photographer and lose the tag of being 'the amateur' or 'wannabe'. The journey is truly evolutionary rather than unprecedented. But, it's nice to camouflage and make it 'historic' by crediting my 'Boromama' who instilled within me the passion with his superb work. (Most of which are now lost...sigh!)

So, it take three years experimenting with my Nikon Coolpix P60 and then, P90 and travelling around the parts of India till I dare to make these worthily posting that, on personal note, is my best.

The Blue Window: Shot at IDPL Colony, Hyderabad the color and the setup was tempting and I hopefully did the required due. Windows and doors often attract me maybe I love the idea of a 'peeping tom' but there's always a mystic associated to the partially ajar windows and door. However, the key point of this photograph could possible be the wall which broken open.

White and Blue: I always wish to do this photograph and have seen it among many great photographer's profile. This is my version, shot in Balanagar opposite to Az's house.

A Small Wish: Oh, yea! I did some photo-editing for this and it doesn't appear 'bad with splash of coloring. Shot near the Balanagar, Hyderabad (opposite to the mosque where Az was praying). A short trivia to this photography - when a was alarming a soulful rendition over the loudspeaker praying 'wishes be granted', the child stand before the Hero Honda bike thoughtfully. Someday, his wish will also be granted...hopefully.

School Days: This photograph reminds me of the turmoil of 'being schooled'. The strappy bag laden with books which are of no-use and open no window to growing up. The dusty road is symbolic to hard life need to walk, so keep marching. Books give no education but life does...

Happily Employed: Shot nearby the school area at IDPL, Hyderabad where the two children fiddling with the public phone booth to figure out whom to call. School days are full of grievances and there's no helpline. I always had a silent days when at school or college. Maybe, that's why I look at children in a pitiable light.

Quacks at Best: India has splurge of quacks and sex-afflicted life. People are curious, eager, violent but unaware of their sexual self. The advertisement posted by one of the roadside quacks nearby the Balanagar, Hyderabad is equally confusing as its client. Just read it...(Enjoy!)

Windows again: The broken window looking at the dark room through the cobwebs is one of the best shot after a long time of photography. They tell story of a life that once have occupied it but now disowned and ignored. The photography reminds me of the life an its practicality (maybe, that's why I have changed it to black-and-white). Used and Ignored!

Once a Ruling Prince: The AP9R 1138 is an Ambassador that once being the pride to its owner (when bought) but now stand under the shade with layers of dust on its wind shield and bonnet. She is ignored and dying a painful but slow death. Life is like AP9R 1138.

All photos are copyrighted by me.
Regards

Anything interesting…

2011-01-14T09:02:00.000+05:30

Scratched my scalp more than often, rephrased the title more than often, smoked cigarettes more than usual but still trying to figure out anything interesting. The answer is ‘zilch’. Ui-ma! How could I turn to a ‘Plain Jane’ in past one-year?

Trying hard and harder and now hardest…! Anything interesting…(zilch). There’s nothing, almost nothing in my life worthy to pen-down. So, finally give-it-up and zilch!

Yearly Random Thoughts…

2011-01-14T08:03:00.001+05:30

Resplendent wintry morning… and the year in its full throttle. There’s many a thing happened since the last time I blog. Wish I could have been writing more often now.

The Historic Proposal – Indecency Withheld

2010-03-31T00:10:00.002+05:30

Well, before you deduce any conclusion lemma intimidate and inform I ain’t suffering of Delhi belly or other cerebral maladies but perfectly sober unfortunately, when writing. Added disclaimer, this is strictly adult porn for Teenagehood when virginity is ‘one’ of those excited doses that you like to experiment. For sappy historians or history lovers, read yourself out of content.

He was the Young Turk with a mansion and a harem. She’s sexy floorboard wench wily enough to be whoranndo; both walk into the history with a *indecent proposal* - and voluntary death by fire for poetic justice to follow.

The story begins in circa 13th century, when Chittorgarh, was under the rule by ‘not-so’ glorious King Ratansen. The king walked into the history book for his famed wife, Padmavati or Padmini; a beautimas and could make men enjoy masturbathing with a mere reflection. According to me, the King is a perfect obsolesce in the tale playing the role of a ‘source’ or the ‘reason’ to this grandiose and much-hyped legendary story which otherwise would have been another great Indian love affair.

Now, for those who have already familiar and have dropped their pants off, lemma’ bring you back to your senses by telling the fat-free bootilicious ‘babe’ lived in her own time and now died. We’re reloading her story. So…, a Young Turk from the North travelled with his cheerleaders and Green Berets and lived in canopies in the wild desert with a wish for a glimpse of royal beauty. (Dude, she ain’t Greta Garbo?) But, all in vain and end up waiting until one-day he tricked the ‘husband’ to agree.

As I’ve mentioned and now my theories confirms, Ratansen was a feeble jerk, a compulsive wanker, and meanie. In fact, he’s the mastermind to the history’s most indecent love affair that sought for a poetic justice to sound sober. Anyways, where was Alauddin Khilji?

Standing in the middle of a chamber that overlooking to the Queen’s Palace through the mirrors on the wall, the Young Turk with a mansion and harem was impatient yet; composious till the voluptosaur meekly stepped out and did the reflection thingee. Scientifically and on human ground, I consider the MAN to have fallen in love thus contradicting to the age-old historic belief who blames Mr. Khilji to be lecherous.

First, Mr. Khilji is a MAN who owns a whorehouse and plenty of sex, daily; but languishing in the desert for such a long-time thus sex-starved. Secondly, reflections produces better imageries than the real (that’s why they invented camera) and Padmavati happened to have shown her glimpse in the water which produces a mirror-image and genuinely hallucinates the Young Turk. Third, per human nature – the neighbor’s wife is sexcillent than one that you own. Finally, Padmavati is sedusive in her own way and perfectly orchestrated her looks and reflection to make the MAN start glistening. Poor Khilji, for he’s sexcommunicated in the history whereas, in real, he’s only a prey to Mr. and Mrs. Schematics. Ouch!

What happened later is a poetic justice or myth, yet to be proved. Still, I consider Mr. Khilji acted as a brash and quite foolishly to be easily fooled out. He trapped the man, who was otherwise has no significance apart of possessing a beautiful wife whom he showcases to earn enemies. He laid a siege to capture the fort immediately which inspire his sexi-natalie to walk into the History’s Wall of Fame by committing Johar or Indian hara-kiri – an act of jumping into the fire and turn to ashes. And, thus the glorious story of a would-be love tale abruptly ends into exalted act and history continues…

The Fortress I Seieged : Kumbhalgarh

2010-03-28T20:00:00.001+05:30

There she stands recluse in isolation amidst the ravines of folded mountains overlooking the snaky walls that circumbulates the fortress and disappear somewhere in the scrub jungles. From a height of 3,568ft you look down to the panoramic rugged scenery and feel nothing less than powerful.

Situated at a distance of 80kms northwest of Udaipur, on the banks of Banas River; the bulbous Kumbhal-garh fortress was one of the least-known yet historic citadel, took 15-long years for Rana Kumbha to build. And, what a stupendous creation of man containing a domed palace along the 36km long winding walls that defended the citadel from series of battlements and second-only to the famous wall of China.

Now, if you got the itching notion that this overwhelming fortress is an abandoned medieval structure with almost no inhabitants around; you’d be disappointed to find delighted activities with fertile landscape around. Built in circa 1485, the fortress is guarded by seven lofty gates as you climb the steep walls which are wide enough for eight horses to march abreast. For years, though she served as impregnable hideouts to Mewari rulers during crisis and stands as a wary sentinel but it was a mammoth task for Rana Kumbha and his men to make such a creation stand to its ground.

In fact, the most interesting part to any Rajasthani fortress is the associated folklore or legends mix with history and Kumbhal-garh is nothing short of it. In 1443, when the king started the construction the structure eventually crumbles to ruins by the sunset until a spiritual preceptor address the king to offer human sacrifice but voluntarily done. The king sent out word, but, as can be expected, no one volunteered. But one day, a pilgrim (also considered to a soldier from the commandment) volunteered and been ritually decapitated. The sacrifice was necessary to ensure that the battle walls being constructed by Rana Kumbha would be strong enough to withhold the sieges. Today the main gate of the fortress, Hanuman Pol contains a shrine and a temple to commemorate the great sacrifice.

The palace at the top of the cliff, known as Badal Mahal is a two-storied structure divided into two interconnected distinct portions i.e. the Zanana and the Mardana Mahal and elaborately decorated with oil paintings. The Zanana Mahal is provided with stone jalis which facilitated the queens to see the court proceedings and other events in privacy. (Note: Most of the rooms are currently restored by the Government of India and thus, found to be locked, the views over the walls to the jungle covered hillsides and across the deserts of Marwar towards Jodhpur, are simply stunning.)

Close to the fortress as you climb down the plains is the Neelkanth Mahadeo Temple dedicated to Lord Shiva. The six foot high stone Lingam (the symbol of Shiva) is the only deity in the area still being worshipped and maintained by the locals. A legend says that Rana Kumbha was said to be so tall that as he sat for his prayers on the floor of the temple, his eyes were on level with the deity! It is said that the king was about 9 feet tall. He never began a day without performing prayers to this deity himself. What an irony that he was beheaded by his own son, as he prayed. It is easy to get lost in time as you stand on the walls of this fort, listening to the stories of its legendary king – the king who gave his name to this area, and who lives on through his deeds long after his tragic demise.

But the story of a fortress doesn’t end here unless you recall the sieges that she defended or succumbed. Accordingly, Kumbhal-garh was captured many a times and passed through various hands. First the Mughal forces captured the fort soon after Haldi Ghati and forced Maharana Pratap to seek shelter in the forests. The Marathas captured the fort and later returned it for a ransom of Rs. 70,000. Finally, in c. 1818, when the fort’s garrison was on the point of mutiny for arrears of pay, the East India Company stepped in and Todd secured the fort on paying a large sum of money to clear the arrears. And, finally one glorious morning of March it was seized by me…or vice versa.

(Note: The Banas is a river of Rajasthan state in western India. It is a tributary of the Chambal River, which in turn flows into the Yamuna, a tributary of the Ganges. The Banas is approximately 512 kilometers in length. Best time to visit the fortress is during the winters and especially if you love to adventure than safari to the jungles is highly recommended.)

The Mystic India (2010): Jhalmuri on Beach

2010-02-19T20:57:00.001+05:30

As the final moments nearing and I tucked myself in rucksack, there’s something missin’ for the final fantasy. The roaring tides crackles on the shore while the wayward breeze rustle through my hair; and suddenly I spotted him with big basket. The Jhalmuri wala. Ah, the delight!

It’s simple, lip smacking, and heavenly salivating refresher. Exaggerating…nah! Ask any Bengali brethren and they would describe the magical taste still lingering at the tip - never to forget. To start:

Add puffed rice, hard green grams, sprouted beans, roasted peanuts, finely chopped onions, green chilies (as many as you could), cumin powder, aamchoor powder, and red pickle in a large salad bowl.
Sprinkle mustard oil and salt and toss nicely till all mixed appropriately.
For optional choices, add grated coconut and chanachur.

O! don’t forget the hot cup of sweet milky tea and gossips to add-on, Nothing could have made vacation in Puri – a perfect memorabilia – without the jhalmuri. Now lemma munch and listen to the blowing conch shell on the seashore.

The Mystic India (2010): Train Journey After a Long Haul

2010-02-19T11:36:00.003+05:30

As the train left the station; the vacation begins. I must admit the Indian Railways has improved over the years and strangely, it was found to be cleaner, punctual, and hygienical. My first destination is to Puri – the Abode to Juggernaut. (Yea, I’m goin’ to pilgrimage.)

But this blog is not about my journey but written to sing the glory of Indian Vanessa Carlton (aka) – or Indian Railways, the underrate source to travel when you plan through India. With me, the compartment is filled with all wakes of life – age, sex, physical or mental attributes no bar and it makes a good combination.

Mid-aged motherly figurines showing some serious underbelly cleavages catching up domestic rigors with their extra-loose men under-roos. The women serves the food, cleans the plates but need men to put the ‘bunk beds’ or escort them to toilet. (Gals, you’re not gonna’ have sex there.)
A poker-face bespectacled ‘Bong communist’ with Fuzzy Muff below his unshapely nostrils lectured his son on every odd moral and societal living. Eh! Over the minute, he keep repeating himself again…and over again…uff! (From experience, I vouch all Bong fathers are Repeatus Everythingus and thankfully, I’m virgin. :P)
A ruggie from rustic West rawring on his clients over the payment so forcefully they need stitches to seall their arselips. Gawd, will this guy ever stop doin’ it verbally and turn to real action. (It will be a sight to see ;)
Three men on the adjacent bunk are so freakin’ gizmorgasmic that their moangasm make me nuts.
A short little family from their 15-day vacation to South was quieter and nostalgic. The man of the family bought every odd thing to eat and the woman munches them in slow motion. The women is too frail and I thought she got no-food ever in life.

I looked through the glassed window, the wheels crushin’ over the iron rails runs through the scruffy flaccid land to the coastal belt; the landscape filled with small hillocks and thick vegetation outstretched. Curvaceous rivers and their sisters have whore it up with their glide while I enjoy sippin’ my hot cup-a-chai.

O! I must mention about the vendors on-the station, on-board, beside-your-seat: they’re everywhere but re-fabricated unlike the older times when they’re haggling and annoying: in fact, I missed their uncouthness. And, these paper cups are NOT what I expected…could anybody please give me the mud-pots that crackles when you drop them on the rails. (Stop cribbin’ bitch.)

Nevertheless, I got more train journeys to add. Hope to be compensated.

The Mystic India (2010) - Daydreaming the Day Before Vacation Starts

2010-02-14T14:47:00.001+05:30

I’m gonna nuts with the constant adrenaline shots; since the morning, with the thought of vacationing. However, the time seems to be too snaily and I got no alternative but daydream till sundown. Ah! (Yea…that’s what I also do the best.)

It’s 13:52 (…A.M.) for self-realization. For past 6-hour, I Googitated to best to feed my membrane with pictures, blogs, and wateva’ I could get. In fact, I walked down the stairs of Varanasi and witnessed holy smoke circling up to sky. (YouTube special effect) Then, dipped in the icy-cold water while the February sun surfs through the glissy Ganges. O! I got a glistening (blush). I’ve counted the spokes of Konark’s famous wheel while it’s half-buried in the suplhury sand.

All this travel and I was hungry as a bungry so walked to the Tunday Kebabi for a lip-smacking platter. (In fact, I prepared a ‘to-eat’ list for every city and memorized the recipes for most.) Now, return to my fort at Mehrangarh too cool-off. Sun is basking in glory but I got enough of tan from beaches. (Of, Goa or Puri?) Forget that… (14: 40 and still A.M. for self-realization)

At sundown I got beach party at Goa with my blue Hawaiian thong. Tomorrow, I got Camel safari to do through the lovelorn Jaisalmer. Rest to update.

The Mystic India (2010) - Wish Lists Request

2010-02-07T13:40:00.001+05:30

Sunday, 7th February 2010

I can’t wait to hate eat but…now live that. And, what a gesture to do. RSVP to Luncheon while I stand as amazing Mumford. Benign lip lickers smile back and hand over a list (in fact, a rolled out meter long paper) for wishes ‘to buy’. Oh, come on!

That’s make me irritatred. Some interesting and innovative wish lists:

Offerenterings. Whaat? You folks wanna me Carry’ em around the country for months to deliver doorstep. I suggest, try it online – reliable and delivered afresh.
Meters of Picasso chikankaris. Man…why don’t you make your wives a bra breaker; am sure you gonna reap more outta there.
Pairs of Johpuri shoerikens. Did anybody said’ ya ‘barefoot’ and ‘bareback’ both are self-stimulating. Try practicing.
Here’s an interesting read. ‘Marijuana’ from the fellow hippies I bump during my stay at Varanasi and Jaisalmer. Whaat? Sounds like vacationing at Marijuana County. And, what do ‘that’ mean…”hippies I bump’ (burp!).
Gadgetry from Palika’s – that’s second-most favorite topping the chart. A word of caution. Nobody knows what you buy from Palika – the recipient will weigh it as ‘expensive’. (In fact, everybody fantasize of having the entire Palika feeds at hundred bucks or less.)
Dollops of Ganges water. Ah! Holiness…peace.

Would you guys be happy if I return empty-handed but stress relieved.

The Mystic India (2010) - Preparation Blues

2010-02-04T14:17:00.003+05:30

Thursday, 4th Febraury 2010

Spend day droolin’ with Google Maps, a basic web mapping application and pin-up my routes. In fact, I been mapturbating on Google Earth and other Google Map since the morning and finally finished the first four lags of the journey route.

At first, it got all hotchpotches with my proclaimed mapscorificness till I deleted it and create a new one. (OK! I did that 7-times) but succeed. Now, I am posted on public domain…wondering how does that make any change to the world. Catch me at (http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF&msa=0&msid=108519497880101037863.00047eae7c888a16333d0) and puhleez don’t drop the poo.

Now, let’s go offline and check out for things to get done:

I got Laundry fucked. It happens all the time. So, time to laundrying before I’m all set.
My refrigerator is out of stock and desperately need a refill but I got Hamletian syndrome: “To be or not to be.”
My travel bag has shrinked and can’t accommodate the best of clothing. (Hmph!) Dude, leave that sac at home, we need to be travellin' light. But what ‘bout my cosmetics
Failed to calculate. Tried to estimate a few but Indian rickshaws, hotels, and auto-drivers don’t put their fare charts. How inconvenient.
Where's the stash? The ATM machine smirks at me mockingly and throw an empty slip with smile. Salaries pending, invoices pending, bills pending…in fact, every both the debtors and creditors are struck with suspended animation and I’m waiting.

Hell’ya! How do I party now? (Jus’ throw a glue and be relaxed.)

The Mystic India - 2010 (Prelude)

2010-02-03T21:47:00.006+05:30

Wednesday, 3rd February 2010

First thing first, a month-long or more holidays is much awaited. Time to get pampered and no pets, no parents, no office loads or Sunday blues…I’m goin’ on a vacation till I’m filled and ask no more. February 16! “…a good day to take a trip, especially to the shore. Jupiter can bring you a gift or a financial bonus especially if you have personal planets or the ascendant at 2 to 8 degrees of Pisces.”

Oh! I ain’t a believer to astrology unless it’s a favorable predictionment as I could see here posted in one of the gimmicked website here. Anyways, it serves my purpose so, roll-on. In fact, after much hookus for a ‘incredible holiday” I settled down with something that ‘instinctive holiday’ for my happy feet. And, thus the journal enfolds.

Hmm…let’s check it out dude, here's what we'll do:

Couple of train journeys…bliss! In fact, the common thread that holds my month-long waywardness is ‘The Great Indian Railways’. Zimbly…loves the ever-punching mobile geckos, over-shaped mid 40s and yea! (not to forget) all tramp-stamped Paris Hilton lookalikes.
Pilgrimage. OK, even a pilgreen need some penance for being sex-fed for 33-long years. But honestly, I find pilgrimages are the best places for photoholics like me. Interestingly, my travel plan (unknowingly) is a big mess of color from various parts.
Sun-and-Sand. And, no beer included.
Family reunions. Though not much excited about that but forcibly and yea! A way to compensate for my four-year elusive stay from folks back home.
Tastamalicious Sojourns. (Read that carefully and don’t misinterpret…there’s nothing bout’ ass here.)

Now, what I need. Let me check and keep informed.

Slumber Days....

2009-10-11T10:14:00.001+05:30

Some days are dull and some are ‘lull’ when you drag yourself out of the coffin to pull the curtains and go to sleep ‘again’. I feel like same for the entire week. Hate to report to office, dislike the idea of stepping out…I wish to be wrapped in you. AND SLEEP!

Farms and Farmville

2009-09-20T09:48:00.002+05:30

After a much needed hiatus, I’m back to virtual world and with gusto…(huh!) O’yea, been practicing farming on my 16 x 16 farmland with 5-cows, ducklings, sheep’s, and few hen. Yards of pineapple trees, and land that bore artichokes, peppers, strawberries, wheat…the farm looks fantastic and makes me itchy. And, I keep so busy with all those sloughing and harvesting that often I end up the day with a pirate bath. Eeeks!

O.K., you don’t need seasons to change to grow crops; they are timed and you need to calculate the numbers of ploughed lands and crops; get them hackneyed within the time (else wilted) and keep movin’. Ain’t that a fun? Yea…I got no reasons to commit hara-kiri for failed crops. Everything seems to be growing here. When you visit the farm the corn was knee-high or the cows’ are so full that you need to give them an udder-fuck. (Ouch!)

Overall, it’s fun and I’m the mayor who passed a law stating ‘no whistling on the farm’…does anybody care?

I’m…Man Abbreviated

2009-09-10T11:42:00.002+05:30

Some thirty years ago…I born (coz’ the mother was pregnate!!). ‘Twas chilly December when things might have been either frozen OR GOD was getting all cheesy puffs over the idea of humans making baby. Since then, I got to life with no football, no praises, no friends, and seriously nobody ever. A life abbreviated.

Okay! What I was talking? A…about myself. I was ugliest of them all, dumbest of them all, and the ONLY gay among them all. Thus, I was silent of them all. All through my childhood. Always! Talk in mono-syllables, walk in pitch darkness I find an escape route to remain closeted. Thirty years…for such a long time – I was nothin’ but an uglyfuck.

School days happen and passed, but forgotten. I belong to group of Forgotten Children only to be discovered by the school bards’ over the Internet as a chirpy flake. Jesus! What the Hell? Life got real messy with *jobs* (with some 7 companies and hordes of projects) and all said, ‘You did it better but NOT the best.’ Fortune (Luck!) greeted to the one who knows the least while I sulk and continue with life no football, no praises, no friends.

A life abbreviated and always the uglyface.

I’m Net-elebrity

2009-09-09T15:56:00.002+05:30

Disclaimer: For those who follow me…I intentionally dropped the ‘c’ to sound humble-pie however, the real reason was to escape the most difficult words since I stutter mostly with difficult ‘c’ or‘s’. If you still wondering what it is…honey! I’m a Net-Celebrity.

Ah! Seriously, I never expected somebody to call me that in my weirdest of all fantasies (I got many…so don’t ask which one) but quite flattered. Now, about this gentleman who’s Punjabi-Australian-Chinese-Kannadigan-Tamil descent staying in Singapore is new to my list and seriously mugging up the words from my blog…is my current favorite.

Well…not because he called me ‘a celebrity’ but he’s 24 and young blooded and loves mature. In fact, last night I spend a considerable time to imagine every inch of his *tool*with all precision and wondering how it remain unscratched. Nyways! It’s none of my business…and I’m quite contented with AZ’s. But Net-elebrity???

You're celebrity PI now. You're the story, dude. What? You followers sneak into my private chambers and read out every detail on ‘what I eat?’, ‘how I feel?’, ‘when I last got naked?’ Is there anything called ‘a censor board’. Fine! I don’t need one. Let them all see me with my bare essential. Coming back to this young Punjabi-Australian-Chinese-Kannadigan-Tamil descent (who must be reading this) I’m still trying to figure him by inches yet ‘a big thank you!’ At least, you make me a reason to revive my blog after a hiatus. Thanks for that.

Love'ya! (Waving my hands and offering air-kisses...) Stop acting moron.

Random Thoughts

2009-07-14T13:06:00.000+05:30

Given up! Thoughts dismantle and tumble…ideas goes discreet and unnoticed. From cluttered to politeness, to bold to meekness; I groom. Sounds crazy, no? I’ve changed and changed a lot…In last 8-months, I dreamt of him. I made long and short trips to be with HIM for a couple of hours and felt his touch to every pore. Now, even the small prayers have HIM and I wish to join him to a frozen wasteland and marry him there?

Helpless now, I stand with him, watching his dreams grow stronger. Oh, I know, isn't it wonderful? I feel like a whole new person! I've never had this much fun in my entire life! I feel so good and confident about myself and Him! Let me a small wish: ‘Be with me forever’ and I promise ‘I do.’

All for Love

2009-07-14T12:18:00.001+05:30

Okay! Today we're having a little pop quiz. Think for a moment and then write your answer below. So sharpen your number 2 pencils and put your thinking caps on. Ready? Here's a quote: ‘Did it make any change to your life, with the archaic law losing the tag to criminalize ‘us’? Does life change after that?’

Let me take my take. It doesn't change a thing, but even so... After thirty and half years, it's nice to know. If God lived on earth, people would break his windows! And, ask for a match…later to dump and continue living with loneliness. But, it did… (though few baby steps)…bring a change. And, now we dreamt of wedding nights!

Still, the question lingers ‘Do you love me?’ I suppose he does and I suppose I love you too.

Mysore - 151 Days

2009-06-02T20:02:00.001+05:30

It’s either coming to full circle or settling with my wandering boots, I'm personally disappointed and confused with the way my life is shaping up from nothing to nothingness. It all began with February 2006 and life thence, unsettled.

Living as a nomad, [the worst thing that I've realized that long-time back but failed to resurrect], I've gradually distanced from all and everyone. The feeling gives a numb expression similar to last hours of passengers in Flight 447; inching to its doom and now lost. Now, the entire world seeks for an answer, 'what's gone wrong?' Do you have any clue? NAHH...

What if, sometime later, a passenger stays afloat from the heart of Atlantic Ocean and narrates the untold hour. (Hmm!) My life is quite similar to. What, if some day, somebody tells me what's gone wrong with me since 2006. I think, I know it all and have lost hope long time back. I lost myself to nothingness and the feeling is numb.

Mysore morning; Time: 9.16 A.M. sitting alone in my desk I'm trying to recoil. My resignation letter is yet to be typed. The office boy wiping the un-manned chambers with an unclean duster; Ain't they all doing things because they have to? Ain't they all doing alike?

I'm a sage who lost his hymns and the tambourine rings.

Chat Version

2009-05-31T18:54:00.002+05:30

People [which not necessarily men] shower me with compliment for having wittiful remarks, and writing them naively by nicely. Here's one of the extract[s] from one of the recent chit-a-chit and interestingly, I'm mesmerized of the fact...how truely people judged me.

31. May. 2009 - 18:18
Hi
Rahul 31. May. 2009 - 18:20
Hi
May. 2009 - 18:22
I think we have spoken b4 on phone, m I right.
Rahul 31. May. 2009 - 18:23
Forgotten...lost my memory, few days back. Can you help me to recall?
31. May. 2009 - 18:26
I'm Faraz, work with Infosys...any bells ringing?
Rahul 31. May. 2009 - 18:28
Well, you never called me after talking to me over the phone, once upon a night. Did I recall you correctly?
31. May. 2009 - 18:40
Yes! That sure is me! I lost Ur number since I nvr saved it, n then...cudnt find u here too.
Rahul 31. May. 2009 - 18:44
I am sooooooooooooooo nondescript that finally, I'm written off...and no mobile book could do the honor of storing my name for some lame reason. So, let's learn from our actions...what's not done should never be. Hence, let's NOT UNDONE things now.
31. May. 2009 - 18:47
Lol...this is what I was in need of...a sudden but wondrous jumbo of words! Love u for that! ;)
Rahul 31. May. 2009 - 18:50
I'm man with abundance of word and hence, keep dropping it here and there...Few people think its precious while other finds it hilarious. The rest of the crowd call me lunatic. I love the third one coz' they know me the best.

-Regards
Blogger

GenNext Election

2009-04-19T11:52:00.001+05:30

Let’s make some interesting chaos. As India votes for 2009, electioneering has stooped to a record low and I’m enjoying the brickbats. (Monologue: Do Indian people care?) Much of the political rallies and stage shows end with ‘blue-collar netas’ winning charge sheets and pay the bail. Interesting…!

And, yea! The inflammatory speech (the new thingee); which lacks inflammation and garner to media hype. Let’s look at this way, “I’m a born to a Hindu mother and sold my heart (or my ass!) to a Muslim man. I carry both the chromosomes and willingly converted.”

Mr. Gandhi, I’ve an advice for you. The game plan is perfect but its’ not what a GenNext expects today. Agree, the impetuous, misguided boy is growing up fast. (Monologue: Do India care anyway?)

Ehsas!

2009-04-19T10:38:00.004+05:30

यह मेरे कानो में तुने क्या कह दिया

संवर गयी ज़िन्दगी मेरी

पहले भी कहा था, किसीने कभी

वोह प्यार नही, तू गैर नही

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

इस रात से कह दो, थम जाए आज

की अभी मैं यार के बाँहों में सोया हूँ

कल फिर होगी सुबह, फिर वही तन्हाई

अब रातों में तड़पते हम अकेले तोह नहीं

Tweedledum and Tweedledee

2009-04-18T23:56:00.001+05:30

Finally, I decided to do some serious blogs and look at the world around me. And, what’s best but to catch the catfights (can’t stop being gay) on nation’s biggest soap opera – ‘India Votes’. Honestly, no one does it better than the politicians when it comes to selling dream, Nah! Hollywood is clichéd. (Remember: As a common being, you have a single task to do – book the ticket or cast it, whichever way you like.)

Hmm! Lemma look at the most funniest of them and voila – all looks punks. But, the unchallenged ‘desi diva’ from West Bengal or Mamata-di (who I’m sure would have given Silk Smitha - the infamous sex oomph from South) is dearest of dear. She’d have given her a run for money and life, if she were alive. Ah! It’s not being imaginative but I’m serious. Have you ever counted her adjusting the pallu to cover the unchewed bosoms? That’s being too suggestive Mamata-di.

A deep down analysis on this woman shows her losing foothold and obstinacy from CPM-bashing that made her darling to Bengal junta until she’s exposed. The debacle of Singur and later Nandi gram, followed with Nano made her the exemplary ‘neta’ with anti-industrial bastion and credibility dissuade.

I find great similarity between these two ladies:

first both of them use their tongues unnecessarily in public
secondly, they’re always shabbily dressed and drawing close attention to their heavy breasts
third, lacks adequate motivation and has settled down playing a cameo with top grosser
last but least, comfortable in swapping with unpredictable partners

In fact, both acts childish even at 40s with desirable ambition lost and ideologies (do they ever had one) changing every seconds. Interestingly, I got to this newsfeed, “A few years ago, Mamata Banerjee of the Trinamool Congress claimed to have a doctorate from “East Georgia University,” which is no more real than London Oxford University.” Interesting... (hmm!) And, she swear not to ride the ‘Nano – the budget car from the house of Tata’ (unless, she’s given a complimentary drive, ofcourse).

The great rise and fall of ‘once a superwoman’ reminds me nothing else but the sexy-siren from South famous for her thunder thighs and rolling tongue who find substantial repute with critics for one-time classic and never regained.

Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

When you said ‘I dump’

2009-03-30T19:41:00.000+05:30

In an age of timid, consumer love world it always happens the same way – to others OR me. Like a scoop of melted ice cream, once your romance start to stink and ‘banging is over’; you’ll be dumped like a sour milk and go back to being ‘uninvolved’. All... vacation romances have an expiration date and got heartache.

To which we say, oh buck up, possum; it might have been worse. I did not expect him to turn away from me so casually, as if he was changing his shoe.” And, wanna be left alone in his cloister. It doesn't make sense to me. Is that coz’ I am on libido-crushing Prozac and have a terrible body image problem, low self-esteem, etc. Don’t tell me ‘you dump me’ coz I smell like a bin and acted ‘bottom’ for the first time.

Honestly speaking something died in me that moment. Now, I’m nursing my corpse.

Let Me Drink the Poison

2009-03-22T18:32:00.003+05:30

मैं बन के मीरा...
भटकूँ गली गली, ओ! गिरिधारी
अंग्ग ले, रंग ले, मोहे तू संग ले
अब विष का प्याला दे
गिरिधारी

Adjustments and Adjusted

2009-03-17T19:11:00.001+05:30

Why do I start writing my blog again? Mebbe’ I’m tired of biting my fingernails which overgrown the Bamboo stalks. And, how’d a begin? (Why not try to recall my grammar book that I’ve long-ly put to the bin.) There’s more to tell…

Settled back in Mysore with ease, I finally managed to get a way out and make an adjustment. O! I always hated the term ‘adjustment’ but now I do into it yet not lovin’ it. And, there’s some more adjustments to do, Dahling! Not out of vanity but for love. Ah!

When I try to count them, I figured I’ve done more numbers of adjustments than the lifetime.

First, I stopped ‘being ambitious’ any more. The only motif of living today is to reunite with the love; I left on the streets of Hyderabad.
Second, I agree to disagree but not forced myself to tie with ‘one of the most hated ex-colleague’ coz’ he’s being my ‘ticket to Hyderabad’. I’m waiting for him to buy me as I left my love on the streets of Hyderabad.
Third, I stopped responding to lucrative job offers that keep by inbox alive for they offer me anything but not the desired job in the city where I left my love.
Fourth, (dats the best part) I stopped cribbing and left all to ‘Dear Lord’…turning down my atheist part.
Fifth, I made it a point to use my ‘leaves’ to go to Hyderabad once a month irrespective of how much it costs.
Sixth, I start to concentrate on pedicure, manicure, and attending beauty salons as a practice and team with female colleagues to share grooming tips for the ONE whom I meet on the streets of Hyderabad.

Gawd! I didn’t realized unless have written them…I’ve given myself to adjustments too much.

Post Valentine Thoughts

2009-02-18T00:06:00.003+05:30

February 14, 2009. Tied to pile of screen notes and design, my mind is still at work. Yet the heart yearns for him and the entire day spend thinking about 'Az'.

When most of my friends were busy sharing their 'moments of love' and the weekend plans - I wished him to be near and go out to a moonlit candle night dinner OR hold each other and gazing the stars. O! We're distance apart and Az....(But why was I whinning?)

Love is a delirious passion! And, what’s the point of love, if you don't die from it, get killed for it, or feel incredibly broken hearted for a lifetime?

Ode To My Gaydom

2009-01-28T22:52:00.001+05:30

O! Yea… For a long time, I was planning to say it nicely but ended so uncouth. As an ageing gay geriatric and one-time bitch who sobered with blooming love life – is there anything called as ‘permanence’ to us (read ‘gays’).

Trust me, we’re nothing else but a bunch of hack writers, lazy minds, and innate bigotry who think they know better than everyone else about LOVE. Let me correct, ‘we all know the best ways to make LOVE’. There’s a difference.

Gay men act like a Greek chorus, cheering on to victory, make funny stylists or the hilarious neighbors with swinging posteriors. They’re often hilarious. In fact, all gays are funny, except, when they’re thinking about settling down. Noticeable, they often have a major attitude, a mean face and are quick to temper and violence if ”dissed” and suddenly talk all ghetto while flapping their fingers saying, “Hmm…OMG! Etc. etc.” Ain’t you stereotyping? [Soliloquy: I’m trying to loosen the hard side of being a gay and been funny when gays are actually not funny.]

Get real. Yeah, some men are like that. Partly because of the head trip you’ve laid on the culture with your anti-gay propaganda. But frankly, this is a load of crap. It’s as mean a stereotype as the one they used in the old days with all sissy guys being flighty, screeching crybabies. They’re like little lost lambs who can’t think or act for themselves and don’t get credit for anything.

Look around, man! Our futures are bleak, boring, and lonesome! We’re all doomed. Yet we rejoice living.

Storytellers, Molesters, and Gays

2009-01-26T23:34:00.001+05:30

Have you read the morning post? Ew! I hope you stay tuned as the nation’s marching band does its salute to gun racks; a group of rogues shows their sense of patriotism by molesting women in Mangalore pub. Would you still ask me ‘what makes me a gay’?

Extracts from one of the media channel read, “Suspected members of 'Sri Ram Sena' assaulted boys and girls, accusing them of behaving in 'obscene manner'. About five girls were beaten and chased away from the pub, two girls are being hospitalized. Reports also suggest that the girls were molested by the activities. Activists claimed that these women were against tradition and that these were Hindu girls, who were trying to get closer to Muslim men. Activists also accused of serving liquor to women.”

Nice alibi and then they think homosexuals are ‘child molesters’ and ‘pedophiles’; Ah! Give me a break dahl’ng.

Mysore (Day 21)

2009-01-26T22:09:00.003+05:30

First, a quick update on me and *I’m famished*. [Munches on the chicken sandwich with toothpick still in it and munch a large one.] O.K., I’m fed a bit and the ready to jabber…and, finally I managed to rent a place that’s enough to cover myself.

It’s pretty nice for a singleton with a mattress, two chairs and couple of newspaper. And, when you bolt the doors there’ are windows which keep you connected to the outer world. Ah! Interesting. Remembering the time, when I was a kid and the biggest worry was like... if you'd get a bike for your birthday or if you'd get to eat cookies for breakfast. Being an adult, it other side of the story. Adults have to be places and do things and earn a living and pay the rent.

Adulthood also bring authority to make rules. And, since I’m paying the rent, I will make-a-da rules. I like to take showers every morning and I don't like the panties drying on the rod. Also, I play the guitar in the middle of the night whenever I cannot sleep and I meditate every morning complete with chanting and burning incense so if you've got to walk around I'd appreciate a little tip-toeing. Also, I sleep in the nude. Au buffo.

Life is all about renting and been rented. Ugh!

Once When I Lived Happily

2009-01-22T07:37:00.003+05:30

I am big dumb ass who learns things hard-way and best in goofing. Luckily, there’s Providence that keep me on-check and interestingly, it works faster than any lubricants to shove it down my ‘clenched-arse’ hard way. The week was nothing less than that and now, I’m rejuvenated with twisted, messed-up, toffee-nosed arseline’ with goddamn itch.

O! It all started with a prospective phone call and I assumed to get into the real big audition that promised me a starlet. Worst happened when I started mouthin’ it across the town with the hope, ‘I won’t be ignored till they really ignored me. Jesus, I fled from my work coz’ of that. F***! Now, I’ve a year to live repenting. (I’m a big dumb ass, didn’t I said you that?)

The entire week I spend as big-slob sitting in a corner of a fishbowl and sulking. The ENTIRE WEEK…uh! But, I’ve no regrets for that coz’ its ends on a sweeter note. And, ah…the sweetness remain on my lips when they touched a pair of petulant. (Blush me) We kissed tonite and he cried. I hold him in my embrace tight wishing the world never to change the date. But, tomorrow will be a new day and I'd have been gone leaving my love ashtray yet, tonite I lived my life that I mayn’t have ever.

No SEX, No booze, No wandering could’ve take me so high. Thanks Cupid, for being so kind.

When Dreams Come True

2009-01-20T20:07:00.001+05:30

As the swearing-in-ceremony of first-ever African-American U.S. President inches for the big storyline for media; it's one of the longly awaited dream that world has ever dreamt. For 45 years now, after Luther's historic speech, seeing a black man takibg the oath of world's most powerful position, is something that few people in King's generation and later would ver have thought and, thus they dreamt.

And what happens after you dream? You wake up, get ready and go out to work. That's what Obama has now. He got the biggest job and the world like to see how the President do it before the world economy meltdown.

With the world, India is awaiting.

Dated Love, Last Night

2009-01-18T08:51:00.001+05:30

Love isn't some treasure that needs finding; it's something that *just happens*. It happens to anyone, at any given moment; even to the most sceptical mind.

I read somewhere that falling in love happens when someone sees you like you see yourself. Whatever happens tomorrow, or for the rest of my life, I'm happy now... because I love you. Last night, Az came with his usual charm and I was disarmed. To those, who like to know *the bedtime story*, we had it but it was more than that. We discussed many a things (even the victims…) which put in uneasy for certain reason till I sensed ‘it was love’. (I beg your pardon, shhh!)

Lost My Lyric

2009-01-17T09:26:00.003+05:30

This part of my life is called ‘Confused’. I am waiting for big news but that seems to ditch me. I’m trying other options but seem to trying in vain. Wasting myself and for god knows, why? Yet…I love to wait.

When the President is Ignored

2009-01-16T22:44:00.002+05:30

His 13-minute talk from the White House East Room, as a customary practice among American Presidents, but the nation was not paying attention.

The tradition of a farewell address began with George Washington. His stern defence of an independent America free of foreign entanglements and deaf to the intrigues of Europe was the nation's first great speech. Citizens in villages across the country staged annual recitations for decades after Washington's death. Dwight Eisenhower used his valedictory to issue a memorable warning against a permanent "military-industrial complex" - an alert more quoted than heeded.

Bush clearly had these examples in mind, as he wove an inventory of the familiar American virtues into the fabric of his urgent priorities. But the nation stopped paying attention and been oblivious to otherwise telecasted TV.

As my friend from US quoted: "Before last night, there were only two noteworthy presidential farewell addresses; Washington's and Eisenhower's. After last night there are STILL only two noteworthy presidential farewell addresses." Thanks, Monogamous

The Lost World and Crooked Me

2009-01-16T22:23:00.002+05:30

The only best part of my work life offers is to visit cities and monuments across the country; otherwise, the job sucks. And, yea! Despite of my ON / OFF relation with Mysore (presumable the shortest halt station) I managed to walk into the Wodeyars royal chambers.

A high disappointment except of the shameless disposal of silver and golden artefacts at every nook or things you look around; Mysore Palace (unlike as its title ‘magnificent’) lacks the lustre. Built in Indo-Saracenic style, in the heydays of puppet Maharaja’s of British regime, the architecture is a fusion of many worldly style namely, Hindu temples, Moslem and neo-Gothic line of buildings; with domes, turrets, arches and colonnades, the palace is a treasure house of exquisite carvings and works of art from all over the world on to luxuriously furnished rooms of royal India.

The lavish interiors were stunning with rich Victorian iron girders & columns, colourful stain glass, intricate ivory inlaid doors and gem-med flooring. [I can’t explain the pain of not being allowed to take photos.] O! The majestic Durbar Hall has an ornate ceiling and many sculpted pillars, icarved rosewood doors and ceilings some with inlaid ivory work, marble figurines, collections of caskets, paintings of the members of the royal family and other objects of personal use exhibit such opulence, though age as worn them out a bit with slight discolouration.

From the kaleidoscope of colours in the stained glass windows (I stole that line from the lonely planet, it just fits so perfectly) it was absolutely amazing. Nevertheless, compared to other royal palaces (leave aside Rajasthan), this one lacks artistic sensibility and aesthetically decrypt.

If you ask me the seat of Asaf Jahi dynasty (near the landmark of Hyderabad) – Chowmahalla Palace is a one of my most visited palaces which mesmerized of its style and elegance. What attracts the most is the marble-floored Durbar Hall with 19 Belgian chandeliers adding splendour to the lost era and Yeah, the priceless line of cars including Rolls Royce of early 1900s. Extravagance unperturbed. (Worthy to mention, what add to Chowmahalla’s beauty is the priceless picture of Niloufer Khannum Sultana – O! She’s the woman and have you seen the man.)

Chowmahalla Palace was built in the 18th century and until today is the world’s most outstanding royal household and interestingly, the clock above the main gate to Chowmahalla Palace (or affectionately called as Khilawat Clock) has been ticking away for over a thousand years. Mysore Palace has none of these and yet always a recommended. Huh!

What's wrong with me?

2009-01-14T09:34:00.002+05:30

The year begin with controversies, falsifying accounting that rocked IT giants, and ongoing recession grappling harder; my life continues in an unusual way. In fact, it's complicated enough and the last thing I need, is more drama. For reasons unknown, I'm yet to make up my mind (in fact, I tried hard) and get to more confusion when a new leaf branched. There's somethin' drastically wrong with me.

Nah, it's not the Hamletian or Macbethian syndrome (that often I sufferfrom) but a strange complexity. Truthfully, I don't like what I get and crave for new. When I acquire 'the new' the weird ME starts disliking it. Ihate to continue till I drop it as fast as I could. (Hmm!) I'm sick. [Sic]

What's wrong with me? I dunno, I seriously dunno! I'm exhausted, bored to death, and want to escape. On the second thought, it strikes me when I've to work. (Give me a minute) I think I nailed it there. I'm happy daydreaming inthe cozy comfort of my laptop while the finger toggles between tabbed iExplorer. I'm busy scheming to find a holiday and get to love, anyways!

Life is happy when I am not doing anythin' and I've nothing to do. WTF! (Confessing: In past 72 hours, I enjoyed smoking 100 sticks, I talked,thought, and day-dreamed about Az for uncountable minutes, and I lazily dozed off every single ticks.) I am sick. [Sic]

'.my job sucks! Or, that's the way I perceives it" and has somehow convinced yself.

Mysore (Day - 3)

2009-01-07T21:15:00.007+05:30

Work finally begin and so does the life.

Couple of things start to move (yet to take a momentum!) but rollin'. The day begin as the regular chores of workin' with spreadsheets and trying to devise all that done is imperfect. But, sooner or later the dies within me fast and I find myself inside the glassed cubicle with the speaker phone does all the T-A-L-K. (Hmph!) It means more spreadsheets, more documents, and gawd! I don't have the access to Internet yet. (Hmph again!)

Sooner or later, few good ol' things start to pour and I had a coochie-coo with Az. He was warm, flirty, and 'missin' me'. (I am missing you too. [Monolouge]) We talked a while and complained of how much we miss each other and both were serious at our end. We really meant the word. Partha was another who keep me busy with his usual snubs. (I love that too... [Monolouge again])

Mysore, otherwise is a nice place to stay but unsuitable to me. I think 'its gonna be a shortest stay' and if Providence plays it right: I'm goin' back home but what about Az! (Flight charges.... I always have the solutions.) Till then its sleep time at 22:49 P.M.

Hmph!

Mysore (Day - 2)

2009-01-06T21:41:00.004+05:30

I am yet to dig to work and start complaining. It's 48 hours and more when I confined to the office campus and literally jabbering... initially, I was skeptical about my role and potentiality. Now, I'm scared coz much is being expected and I've no clue how the success meter will tick.

The city is otherwise quite sleepy and there's nothing much to do. By the noon, when most were either dozing before their desktop or tapping the keyboards nonchalantly; the city roads were washed with winter sun filtered from the net of palm groves. I sit in the cafeteria and take a sip.

Life has somewhat relaxing. Not much work to do, nobody much to talk. (O! I am sitting in a distant cubicle and thus, there's nothing to play prank or jolly around). Thought of A.... and Partho's phone call keep me somewhat occupied. O! There's a good news (if it could be consider as one) I suddenly realized that I've minimized smoking. And, compensate that during the night time.

Let me record each day for this job and figure out how soon I get bored.

When Cupid Strike

2009-01-06T21:14:00.004+05:30

Looks like Cupid just shot an arrow when reindeers were marching their way with the chirpy Santa Claus from chimneys.

Oh, I know, it ain’t a wonderful feeling. I feel like a completely new person! I've never had this much fun in my entire life! I’m otherwise a freaky, boring techie guy who flirt over Internet and drink cups of tea. Suddenly, I start loving musicals and nachos. I visit malls and overpowered by shopping frenzy. The list is growing within me like enzymes and I’m worried.

O! I love the night sky and the starry dreams. I love the seashore and entangled feet. And Jesus! I suddenly love the idea of ‘getting married’. Isn’t it crazy? Now, I look at myself and ask what I’ve done to myself. Worried of what love has done to myself.

एक ख्याल

2008-12-31T22:46:00.002+05:30

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।

The Mixed Bag

2008-12-28T21:12:00.004+05:30

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:

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.

PS: I can’t write more. There’s something wrong today; a VERY MACBETHAN night tonight and I sense ghosts visiting me.

Pre-Birthday Dash

2008-12-20T18:40:00.002+05:30

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.

Incorrigible Incompetent

2008-12-02T11:53:00.000+05:30

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!

Remorseless

2008-10-21T14:27:00.001+05:30

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”

Why did I wrote this?

2008-10-13T15:06:00.002+05:30

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!

Funny Ad - Or Food for Thought

2008-10-10T23:21:00.002+05:30

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]

‘Why the courseware designers don’t take a cue from this?’ Ask the marketers and traditional school of learning.

Saradiya Subeccha Roilo...Ami Mayer kache jabo

2008-10-05T10:19:00.000+05:30

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)

Turned to my Grandmother

2008-10-01T14:48:00.001+05:30

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.

Cry for Identity

2008-09-28T12:42:00.001+05:30

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.

Quick Recall

2008-09-27T11:03:00.000+05:30

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!

Namyo ho renge ko

2008-09-24T22:57:00.002+05:30

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)

How Am I Today?

2008-09-09T10:43:00.000+05:30

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!

Farewell Friendship

2008-09-08T13:36:00.001+05:30

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?

Got My First Heart Problem

2008-08-30T08:05:00.002+05:30

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.

Dear Sistah

2008-08-19T17:51:00.000+05:30

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!

Dead Body in my Cubicle

2008-08-19T16:27:00.001+05:30

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.

I thought for Myself

2008-08-08T03:46:00.000+05:30

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.

Sour Taste

2008-08-07T08:16:00.002+05:30

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'!

Whill You Pay My Bills

2008-08-01T15:12:00.003+05:30

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

2008-08-01T14:49:00.001+05:30

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.

My Life is in Mess

2008-08-01T12:37:00.003+05:30

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

You're reading my Blog

2008-07-12T13:19:00.000+05:30

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...

My Life is in mess again

2008-06-29T20:57:00.001+05:30

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!

Love @One Night

2008-06-21T18:18:00.003+05:30

[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>>

Another Nazm

2008-06-11T21:33:00.005+05:30

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

Another reason to starve today

2008-06-11T21:02:00.001+05:30

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.

A Christian Entourage

2008-06-10T20:14:00.002+05:30

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).

Would you mind if I Confess

2008-06-06T01:41:00.004+05:30

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.

Celibate Days

2008-06-05T23:28:00.001+05:30

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.

Red Bandana and Polka Dots

2008-05-17T01:11:00.001+05:30

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.

Some Hyderabadi fun!

2008-05-08T22:06:00.002+05:30

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...

2008-05-08T21:22:00.001+05:30

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.

March Ahead!

2008-04-09T13:50:00.000+05:30

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)

Liquid Eyes

2008-03-23T08:39:00.000+05:30

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?

Holy Holi

2008-03-23T00:36:00.000+05:30

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!