PANACEA

They say that when you are about to die, your entire life flashes in front of your eyes. But when the person who you love the most is about to die in front of you, then what do you see?

…….

I am special. I can see the future. But, it comes with a caveat; I can’t tell what I see to anyone, coz if I do so, then the exact opposite of it happens.

I first found out when I was twelve, old enough to understand the dynamics of life and death in a rational manner. I was out walking my dog when suddenly a red haze appeared in front of my eyes. I saw a crowd gathered around a spot and as I tried to peer in, I saw a girl crying over her dead dog. That girl was me. Needless to say, moments later, my beloved canine was put to sleep by a bus and I was left dumbfounded, with tears trickling down my eyes. I had other such visions throughout my life but none comparable to what I had seen just now.

Both of us were out to the carnival, to celebrate our second anniversary together, doing the third round of the Ferris wheel. Not that it’s the epitome of a romantic getaway, but coz he just loved the thrill of it all. And I loved the way his hair flew back and how his eyes doubled in size, with a beaming smile on his face. We were approaching the top when I saw the familiar red haze. I saw that just as we were crossing the helm, the harness broke off, and I was flung fore, plummeting towards my impending death.

I had grown used too such grotesque visions and had learnt to control my tongue so as not to mess with destiny’s perfect plans, but what I had seen just now was totally off the hook. I had seen myself get hurt before, but never dying. And I don’t know what it was, maybe it was the strength of his love, or the belief that maybe if death had to come, there wasn’t a more opportune moment, but impulsively I blurted it out to him...

“I’m about to die”, I said.

He looked into my eyes, a little surprised, well aware of my “gift” and the consequences, if the visions were to be revealed. But he just smiled and looking deep into my eyes, kissed me. I suddenly realized that I had committed a ghastly blunder, and had put his life in jeopardy, as the opposite of “I’m about to die”, would imply “YOU, are about to die”…

What would you see?

I closed my eyes, but yet I could see clearly, all the moments spent with him, that had contributed in shaping my life like it is today. I remember, this day, exactly two years ago, when we had first met at New Years Eve. I was at a friend’s party and due to the lack-luster ambience, was just biding my time standing in the balcony, looking at the stars, wondering about how lonely each star would feel, in that cold and dark universe, being millions of miles away, even from its immediate neighbors. And in midst of my profound contemplation of interstellar commiserations, I had a vision. I saw a man jumping out that very balcony, upon which I was resting my elbows now. Needless to say, I was shocked. I looked around and saw a lot of people who were dancing and drinking, but couldn’t find anyone who looked even remotely interested in committing suicide. Midnight was fast approaching and I had to leave the place by twelve; not that I was Cinderella or something, but I had strict orders at home to be back by 1, lest I’d be grounded for the next three months. I was wondering where to find him, when I heard someone crying. I couldn’t fathom the source but I knew it was from somewhere near. I craned my neck as far out as I could, and saw that right below me, a man was standing on the parapet, his feet dangerously close to the edge and I knew I had found my man. I called out to him but he didn’t respond. I called him again and this time he looked up, bewildered and apparently intoxicated. He asked: “Who is this??”

“This is God”.

“God??”

“Yes, God. And you sir are about to commit the most heinous crime humanly possible. Why do you want to die?”

“You are God. You wrote this for me. You should know. And since when did women get elected for such important posts? Really, no wonder God is a she. Women hate me and I am destined to suffer at their hands…”

“It’s not their fault you see. You write your own destiny. It’s you who choose the wrong girls and then blame the whole female fraternity. You should be more careful as to whom you attach your emotions with and whom you rest your trust upon. You shouldn’t give up like this.. somewhere out there, there is a girl waiting just for you.”

“But then, every girl I have loved has either left me or ended up in bed with my one of my friends. How do I know where my perfect girl is?”

“Well.. Just open the door..”

Saying this, I rushed downstairs and waited for the door to open. After sometime it did open. Our eyes met and however clichéd it might sound, it was love at first sight. We kept looking into each other’s eyes and could hear fireworks going off in the background. And just like Cinderella, I had found my Prince Charming at the stroke of midnight. We kissed and I don’t know what it’s like up there, but I knew I was in heaven…

That tear trickling down his cheek then, it flashed in front of me now.

..We were having a leisurely stroll in the park on a lazy October afternoon. I noticed he wasn’t talking much and I knew something was bothering him. I had a vision, in which I saw him crying, bawling, absolutely screeching, as if his world had come to an end. I asked him: “Is something wrong?”

“Nope.. everything’s just fine..”

“Doesn’t seem so to me, you look like you’re about to cry. And why are you fiddling with that empty packet in your hand, just throw it..”

“I like it, it reminds of the ‘corn I just had.. I can feel that saltiness lingering in my mouth every time I look at it..”

“Look dear, if it’s just the popcorn then we can buy another one, but really if it’s something else then you can always tell me..”

He took a deep breath and gasped, then after something that seemed like an eternity, he finally spoke...
“You see that couple over there, sitting on the bench.. that girl was my first love..”

I felt a mild jolt all over my body and for a moment I froze in my stance, but seeing that my silence wouldn’t help the cause, I joked..
“Well, maybe she was, maybe she wasn’t. One can never be too sure of such things when one has been in as many relationships as you have..”

“You think I don’t remember? She was the first girl whom I dreamt about, whose persona and grace were unparalleled, such that other girls have only been caricatures of.. and maybe the reason why I have been in so many failed relationships is that I tried to look for her in every girl I met, forgetting the fact that she was and always will be, unique. And even now, when I see her sitting there, laughing and holding hands, it makes me feel jealous, feel unhappy; not that it’s your fault in any way, but just that I can’t seem to get over her.”

I was shocked, and inside me I was crying. Every word of his had struck me like lighting and reeling under the influence of them, I spoke:
“See, maybe it’s your latent sadness that doesn’t allow you to accept other peoples happiness. Sometimes people are happy and sometimes they just give the impression of being so, it doesn’t really matter. But the thing is, that the most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them- words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie wherever your secret emotions are buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly, only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important, that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear. And I don’t know whether I can ever live upto your expectations or match her persona and grace, but I can assure you one thing, I will always be that understanding ear and that shoulder you can lean on; and maybe the one who can make you laugh in your times of misery…”

He looked at me with eyes full of adoration and asked: “Tell me one thing, what is happiness for you?"

“For me.. this is happiness. Just being here with you..”

That smile on his face then, it flashed in front of me now.

There were many more such slices of life that flashed in front of me in a split second. I could feel that we were approaching the top and my heart was filled with intense anxiety. I held him tightly, thinking that if death had to come, then it should take us both together. He could feel my twitchy embrace and kissed me even harder; realizing that any moment now, both of us could be separated for ever. We started descending and my heart was pounding inside me, maybe hard enough so that he felt it throbbing against his chest, as he tightened his hold around me. Suddenly I heard a loud bang.

For a moment my heart stopped. Then there was another, and another and another, they just kept on coming. We looked up and saw the sky was lit up with resplendent fountains of light, spluttering fulgurant streams of sparkles in the air, filing the night sky up, with a million glittering stars in all possible colors. We kept on descending until we slowly reached the bottom and finally got off; while not for a single moment did our eyes leave the sight of each other.

He didn’t die and neither did I. But I kept wondering how my vision had proved me wrong today; and only later on did I realize, that the opposite of “I’m about to die” is also, “I ain’t about to die”…

I don’t know what antonyms does God choose, but I do know that although modern medicine has performed many miracles till date, but love and only love, has the power to conquer death…

H.I.M.Y.M.

"Kids.. today I’m going to tell u a story. The Title of the story is ELEVEN MINUTES.."

“Once upon a time, way back in 2029, a great man had an untimely death. But, before dying, he called his brother and told him his last wish. He told him to bring a particular packet from his locker and leave him alone with it, in his last few moments.

The brother was really curious to know what it was but he couldn’t possible interrupt a person who was rightfully claiming his last wish. Three agonizing hours later, he found out. It was a diary.

It was wrapped neatly in cellophane, like he always did to all his vintage books. He couldn’t help but wonder, what’s written in it. He had never seen him writing, all he ever wrote were cheques. He was so desperate to read what was inside that all his morals and ethics couldn’t stop him from doing so.

“Sorry pal..” he said to his deceased brother, and began peering into the first-hand accounts of some of his brothers most secret and undisclosed experiences.”

“Now kids.. remember, it’s BAD to read somebody’s diary and you should never, and under no circumstances, do such an unscrupulous thing.."

"Anyways, getting back to the story, he opened the diary and found the first few pages were empty and some had random scribbling and sketches in them. Then on a page dated March 17th, he finally found something meaningful..

“I saw a strange girl today. She was quite serious. She was neatly dressed and had a maroon purse. She had in her hands a novel wrapped in newspaper. Now I hate that. If u can spend 500 bucks on an ordealistic novel, then u can very well spend 5 more on a piece of wrapping paper. And that too a newspaper dated 12th September 2006, now that’s more than six months old! Sheesh! But all that apart, one thing stood out about her, that which made her remarkably different from all other girls on the train, and maybe even from all other girls I have ever seen in my life.. She was surrealistically beautiful. I’ve never seen a girl like her before!!”

March 23rd:

“She looks sad. And lonely. She always has this novel in her hand. She always has this pen in the other and keeps marking and scribbling things in it. I mean how boring can you get. Who reads a novel to cut eleven minutes in a train? It’s not like it’s an overnight journey or anything. But still she keeps reading it almost religiously. I think I’m crazy, coz I think I love her. My friends say it’s normal and it’s just an infatuation and with time, will eventually wear off. Whatever it is, but it’s a beautiful feeling…”

July 23rd:

“It’s weird. I mean how long does it take someone to finish off a novel? If you are a slow reader and take even 3 minutes to finish a page then that means in 22 mins. you can read 7 pages. That means u can easily finish it in 50 days. But it’s been four months now… And she doesn’t seem to have finished even half of it. Maybe it’s not so interesting. But then why does she keep on reading it? And weirdest part is that she doesn’t seem to read it in any particular order. Sometimes its half done. Sometimes only a few pages. Sometimes it looks like on the verge of ending but it never does. It’s so damn bugging. I plan to ask her the day she does finish reading it, that which novel was it that took such a beautiful girl like her so long to complete..”

November 7th:

“I think about her like this crazy obsession of sorts. I mean however hard of I try to let go of her I can’t, I just can’t. And it drives me crazy but at the same time it makes me feel so alive. I feel if there is one difference between humans and animals, it’s that although both can love equally well, but only humans can express it in a way that makes the other believe that the sole purpose of their existence was nothing but loving that person back. We all come into this world naked and ignorant and like a deer in the woods, keep running aimlessly, searching for the meaning of life for all of our lives and only when it leaves us stranded in the darkness, that we understand that the true reason of human existence is love.. to love and to be loved.. maybe not by the same person but nevertheless by someone else; and I believe it’s not of great importance to get the person we love and marry them, but of greater importance is to just experience this amazing, out-of-this-world feeling we call love.
I love her and even if she may not know it, ever, but still I just love her. I don’t want to have her with me 24X7 or marry her or anything, basically coz she won’t do it, and I know that, but more so because I don’t want to know her better and in the process find out her shortcomings and flaws, if any. I just want her to be a beautiful, perfect, unparalleled dream, that was lovely, painful, nightmarish, enlightening, obsessive, ardorus, insightful, passionate, and many more such things, that are inherent parts of an experience we call life.. whenever I see her I know I am alive… People go and climb mountains, surf on raging waves, do crazy stunts and what not, just to experience the rush of blood and the exhilaration and excitement of being alive. I happen to get all of it in just a train ride.
The same eleven minutes of a journey that most people find mundane, uneventful and plain boring, were a new experience for me every day. My life is good, what more can I want from it?”

December 27th:

“I saw her today at the theater.. she was there with a man. He was touching her. Everywhere. I didn’t like it one bit. I felt like killing myself. Even though she didn’t like it one bit, then why didn’t she stop him? I felt like kicking that man in his groin and deprive him forever of his perverted manhood. But how could I. Would she even recognize me? She always seems so engrossed in that novel of hers that I don’t think she would even know if a bomb went off next to her, let alone recognize an ordinary fellow from a crowd of thousands. But still.. I love her..”

January 11th:
“I had such a great chance to talk to her today. My fractured hand was a perfect excuse to sit next to her on the reserved seat. But I screwed it. “No uncle it’s just fine”. Why couldn’t I just tell that guy to bugger off and finally sit next to her like I always wanted to? Damn!! But now I have decided. I will tell her tomorrow. I have to tell her. Coz I am going absolutely mad. After all, how hard can it be? I know she would say no but what the heck. At least it will cure me of this insanity.
But then, do I really want to get cured? Do I really want to end this dream so abruptly and deprive myself of such an amazing array of emotions that I experience every day? Maybe not..”

February 28th:

“I finally went and tried to talk to her. She didn’t have the novel today. Her station came and I got down with her. I asked her “I’ve been watching you for the past few days and couldn’t help but notice that novel in your hand. Which one was it?”

She didn’t reply. I tried to prolong the conversation, desperate to get a response.. “How did it take you so long to finish reading a 300-odd page novel?” Still no reply..

“I was thinking.. if you could have a few minutes.. there’s this great place near the station..”
And then she looked towards me with blank, pitiful eyes and all that she said was “Bye” and rushed away…”

The following pages were all blank. I was shocked by what I had just read and was hoping I had never read it in the first place. I didn’t know what to do with it and I felt sick, accompanied by a feeling that was a mixture of guilt and grief. I flipped over to the last page, and found something was written there.

It said:
“This girl changed my life forever. She, without saying a single word, taught me the meaning of love and life. So dear brother, please, if you are still reading this, then please find her, and as my last wish, give this diary to her if you do. Do this much for me bro..”

The brother was disgusted with himself and thought that the only way he could reclaim his self-respect, was by fulfilling his brothers last wish. He went to the only store in town that still kept vintage paperback books and asked the keeper if he had some really old ones. He told me that he did get one from a nearby house few days ago. He dint know the purchase date but it was covered in a newspaper dated September 2006. I almost grabbed his collar and asked him to show it.

It was the same. It completely fitted the description. I opened it and found a very strange detail about it: Every single unprinted inch of it, was filled with miniscule handwriting, often incomprehensible due to its age. But I could make out the gist of it. Whatever I could read, went like this:

“I again saw him today. He always takes the same train as me.”

“Today he was at the movies sitting three rows behind me. Every time my client touched me, I could almost hear his fingers tightening and his teeth clenching. I want to tell him but how can I. It would break his heart.”

Some printed lines were repeatedly underlined and highlighted, which were conversations between a bar dancer and her customer. I removed the newspaper covering the book, only after repeatedly reassuring the keeper that I would buy this dilapidated book, and the title was: “Eleven Minutes.. Paulo Cohelo..”

He asked the keeper that who sold it to him. He gave him the address. He went there and saw a woman so beautiful, that it’s worth spending your entire life, just for the sake of those eleven minutes in her company. He told her everything, about his brother, his diary and his last wish. He promised to free her from her demeaning profession, marry her, give her a home, family, children and above all respect."

"And they lived happily ever after…."

***

“Dad.. I couldn’t help wondering, is that old book in your hand the same as that in the story??”

“Well son, how can it be the same? After all.. it’s just a story…”

WASABI

The following are excerpts from a yet unpublished Biography on the life of Yasser Arafat, renowned Palestinian leader and Noble Peace Prize recipient (1994). It reveals hitherto unknown and startling facts about his childhood and personal life, presented in articulate first-person phraseology.

Personal comment: Give it some time.. coz it's worth it.. SERIOUSLY!!

PROLOGUE

“It was August I remember..
The August of 1941..

We had just wound up my humble birthday celebrations in my uncle’s home and were cleaning up, when it happened. I remember, it was raining heavily outside; the barren roads of Jerusalem were desolate and I had just turned twelve. I had no idea why or for whom, the British soldiers raided and vandalized our unadorned home. But all I knew was that the weakling whom I called my father was nowhere to be found, in a time I needed him the most.

Next thing I remember is my adolescent self, a thin and scrawny lad, roaming in the dusty roads of Cairo. I remember how my elder sister used to wake me up and get me ready for school, get done with the household chores and then in the evenings tell me stories about my mother: How she used to be adored by the entire village, how people looked upon her as an angel. A selfless woman, a devoted nurse who was never too busy to help and what a staunch humanitarian she was. How she coped with a failure of a husband and a subdued married life. How she never returned after she went searching for her lost child in the great floods, when I was only five years old.

My mother always said that every person has a guardian angel looking upon them, guarding them, nurturing and nourishing them. Mine just happened to be nearer to God than most others…

My father, on the other hand was a spineless, characterless craven. He couldn’t provide for us and his textile business was always in recurrent loss. I remember the day when I was at college and a friend came running to me saying that my father had been shot. He died four days later and his funeral went unattended by his only living son.

It was august I remember,
The august of 1952..”

“I was dead. Three years of detention at Cairo central prison’s crematorium had made me so. My daily routine was unloading dead bodies, mostly rebels and arm-smugglers like me, from a hand-cranked elevator into the pits. I often recognized their faces but I felt nothing, no sorrow, no pain, no emotions, empathy, despair or desertion. All I felt was a void inside me, an inherent emptiness that proliferated with each passing day..

Then one day, I saw my mother. I am not sure it was her, there is no way I can be absolutely certain, but still I’d like to believe it was her. She tenderly touched my head and in a soft but lucid voice told me, “Son.. I’m sending you an angel..”

I woke up astonished and realized that I just had a dream, a beautiful dream. But as is their nature, they are shattered before we can even soak and revel in their warmth, let alone be realized. And this place was such where there could exist no angels, only hunger and fear and travesty and Death..

Two days later, I was walking near the edge of the compound, the sun had just retrieved its fiery blazing claws and a tepid breeze was blowing through the billets, making the air dusty. It was then, that I saw a vague figure in the distance, its form was indistinct but it looked human. It came closer and only when the breeze died down, could I make out that it was a little girl. A girl with golden locks, wearing a frilled white frock…

She was hiding behind an old birch tree, and all I could see from the distance was that she was scared. I called out to her in Hebrew and asked if she had something to eat. She didn’t reply at first, maybe she didn’t hear me, but I couldn’t possibly raise my voice any higher lest I attract the attention of the guards.

I inched ahead, getting closer to the barb-wired fence and was about to repeat myself when she stepped forward. She was lean and gaunt but her eyes… her eyes had magic… they were fearless, they had hope and rapture and in them I saw life.. in them, I saw my mother’s soul..

She took out a loaf of bread and threw it over the fence. I grabbed it and as I started to run away, I heard her say faintly, "I'll see you tomorrow." I returned to the same spot by the fence at the same time every day, when the guards used to change shifts. She was always there with something for me to eat - a hunk of bread or, better yet, an apple. We didn't dare speak or linger. To be caught would mean death for us both. I didn't know anything about her, just a kind farm girl, except that she understood Hebrew. What was her name? Why was she risking her life for me? Was she the angel my mother spoke about?
Hope was in such short supply, and this girl on the other side of the fence always gave me some, as nourishing in its way as the bread and apples…

***

Nearly seven months passed, and in course of this unusual correspondence, I started feeling alive again. I experienced joy, exaltation, courage and hope; gratuity and love towards the godsend angel I had come to know..

It was august I remember, and we were informed that the enemy was at the gates and all possible witnesses had to be dealt with quickly. I was to be executed at the break of dawn.

"Don't return," I told the girl that day. "We're leaving." I turned towards the stockades and didn't look back, didn't even say good-bye to the little girl whose name I'd never learned, the girl with the bread and apples. But while I was on my way, I heard something, and it was divine. It was the rumble of an approaching thunderstorm. It was strange, because somehow, it made me feel strong. I looked back at the girl and she was standing there. Alone. In the darkness and desertion. She was looking at me, I couldn’t see her eyes in the darkness, but I felt it. Her gaze was fixed upon me and I stood there hypnotized by it. And amidst the thunder, I heard a soft snivel, a gasp, a whimper, its nature indiscernible due to the clamor of the storm. But yet I heard it. Then it rained, it rained as if God had decided to vanquish the entire Hell-fire with one swift shower. I soaked in it and reveled in the sublime bliss, drenched by the nectar falling from the heavens...

My mother used to say, that God was in the rain, and that the fragrant whiff of the impending rains, is actually the scent of God. I guess she was right, because the tears of this angel were compelling enough to make even the heavens weep..

I stood there enraptured, thinking that in a few hours, I was to be reunited with my mother, crying tears of elation in the rains, when one mighty thunderous bolt of lightning struck the giant Iron Gate and flung it open. The inmates seized the opportunity and fled for their lives.

That day I understood one very important thing.. that there is no certainty, only opportunity.”

“What might be your good name young lass?”
“Suha, Suha Tawil. I’m a nurse at the..”
“Tawil? You’re a Palestinian?”
“Yes.. but we moved out of Jerusalem long back during the wars, and settled in..”
“So, why are you interested in joining the liberation front?”
“My mother always said that no good deed goes unnoticed and no bad deed goes unpunished. My aim is to serve justice..”

Those words hit me hard. It was as if a ghost from the past had suddenly come alive. She had a reminiscent expression on her face but I just couldn’t recollect where I had seen it.. even her eyes looked familiar, too familiar..

“Where was it exactly that your family moved to?”
“Oh yes.. we moved to a small cattle farm near Cairo. My father ran a flour mill and my mother used to work at a bakery. I was only a child then but even now, I can clearly recollect the horrible condition of our people locked up in the prisons. It was then that I had resolved to always work for the betterment of humankind and..”

Her words were eluding me as my senses ceased to function.. my heart was heavy and my eyes doused with tears. I couldn’t believe it, I just couldn’t. After so many years I had finally stumbled upon my guardian angel, in this alien land. I stood up and hugged her, kissed her forehead as she sprang back, astonished at my unwelcome display of affection.

“Are you all right, Sir?” she asked, rather flustered.

I tried to compose myself to the best of my abilities, but I just couldn’t. And with a heavily choked up throat, replied: “You may not remember me, but for me you are no less than an angel.. and I thought I had lost you forever, but I promise, from the very depth of my heart I promise, I will never let go of you again.. never..”

“The Israeli militants had found us. We were organizing a PLO meeting and the hall was filled with Palestinians. They quarantined me and took her away. I feared the worst. In all probability she was dead and even if she wasn’t, it wasn’t long before she would be lynched…

I felt vacuous, vapid, my head dizzy with neurotic throbbing tending to annihilate it to smithereens. But even then, with whatever sense that remained, the only thing I thought about, was her.. I could feel her, sense her, smell her, hear her but only I couldn’t see her.. it was as if my mind was ready to surrender to the inescapable truth but my heart fervidly refused..

It was like the feeling you have, in those few anxious seconds, when you just see your little child fall down from a staircase or a bicycle..

You know she’s hurt, you know she’s dazed and torpid and benumbed, lying lifelessly on the turf and probably is going through the worst misery of her little life but then, an inch of you believes that she’s just fine, that God rested his mighty and caring hand on her shoulders and saved her from the inevitable peril that awaited her..

It was three hours of absolute agony and anguish before the rescuers found me and that was when the lights went out..

I woke up as if in a fugue, without any sense of where I was or what time or day it was.

They told me I had been gone for four days, and that all attempts to find her had failed, revealing only lacunas.

It was six in the evening and I could hear distant rumbling, resonating in the air. I asked the nurse whether any bombs had gone off lately. She very nonchalantly and in a tone bestowed only upon seasoned nurses, said that it was about to rain, like it had incessantly, for the past four days..

And I don’t know why, it’s not as if I believe in weather forecasts, but I instantly turned the TV on and put on the news. They were not showing weather maps or cloud formations. Instead they were showing how an unidentified woman had freed herself from the mob and had jumped out of their jeep en route the A39, near North Cornwall. All they showed was a blurred scathed face, its color incomprehensible due to the grayscale imagery. I couldn’t make out whether it was her, I couldn’t make out whether she was Jew or British, I couldn’t make out whether she was white or black, I couldn’t even make out whether she was coming through or dying… all that I could make out, was that she was crying…

And that night… it rained, like it had never before on the gleaming streets of London…”

~***~

This passionate and heart touching memoir, to be shortly published by Orient Publications, has been aptly titled:

“How to make someone read your blog while keeping them under the impression that it’s a nifty and inspirational biographical account of a Nobel laureate’s life, when actually it’s just another random and outlandish creation of your demented mind!!”

VNDVA

P and I are lying on the upper berth of a packed train. Her head’s resting on my shoulder and mine’s resting on hers, while our bodies are contorted in a manner that would put Russian gymnasts to shame.

We are listening to the Backstreet Boys crooning “I want it that way..”

O yeah.. like I sure do..

Meanwhile, we discuss our plans for the weekend, and I tell her that am planning to watch Bachna Ae Haseeno that day..

She falls asleep shortly after. I look at my watch and along with the time, notice the date.. 15.08.08..

Independence Day.. I change the track to “Maa Tujhe Salaam” by A.R. Rahman.

And instinctively, I start getting faint memories of the times, when as a kid, the 15th of August meant so much more to me than just a mere holiday. The Flag hoisting at school, singing the National Anthem amidst the choir, saluting the revered Saffron White and Green.. it all had such a fervor, something that’s completely faded away now.

I remembered how after coming back home from school, we all used to sit together and watch Gandhi or Bhagat Singh or Tiranga or Krantiveer on the telly.. and now.. Bachna Ae Haseeno?? Sheesh…

I enter the hall and a pleasant surprise awaits.. “Jana Gana Mana” is being played onscreen on the behest of the Supreme Court. A feeling of déjà-vu engulfs me, as we all stand up and sing along, while three youths stay put on their seats, coz their laps are too occupied with trays full of Colas and Burgers.. and by the time they do manage to get up, the 52 seconds are already over.

They proudly cheer “Jai Hind!” to exhibit their patriotism and all they get is a contemptuous look from the light-man. These ‘deshbhakts’ happened to enlighten me a lot about my country during the course of the movie. Hence, I would be referring to them as Patriot #1, 2 and 3 hereon…


An hour and a half into the movie, and they show the protagonist (won’t use the word “Hero” here, coz that would be highly demeaning in the context..) living in Australia. He works for Microsoft, earns unaccountably, sleeps with enough girls to spend half his savings on latex.. the perks et al.

“Dude!! that’s the life..” exclaims Patriot #1.

“He sure’s one lucky bastard..” says Patriot #2.

Meanwhile, the protagonist claims.. “Once you start living in this country, there’s no other place in the world that you could possibly adjust to.. blaah.. blaah.. blaah.. Everything about this place rocks.. Sydney rocks..”

As if....

“He sure does know his geography..” remarks Patriot #wateva..


Come to think of it, these are the same people, who were singing our national anthem so proudly (??) just a while back. And now they are ashamed of their very nationality. As if being a parasite to your nation is a ticket to “Cooldom”…

ZEITGEIST


Have you ever wondered why you find a joke funny?
Or why you get happy, thinking of the Easter bunny?
Why you sympathize with a story’s characters?
Or why you squirm while watchin’ Fear Factor?
Why you have tears in your eyes, when a hero dies at the end?
Or why your heart aches, when he loses his girlfriend?
Why a murder mystery, arouses thrill and suspicion?
Or why you become a kid, while watchin’ a magician?
Why lengthy romantic novels, make us swoon?
Or why you cavort ritualistically, whilst listenin’ a peppy tune?

The elements of the human mind, although can’t be predicted,
But one thing is clear, that we are all addicted,
To a world of fantasy, charm and disbelief
That sells us happiness and vends us grief..
And fills our heads with queer notions,
Wearing a masquerade of forged emotions..
We understand, it’s all a sham and a mere hoax,
Yet keep on consuming the Macs’ and the Cokes’
We think like the tube, we speak what it tells,
We wear what it vaunts and eat what it sells..
Tube is the gospel, tube’s the doctrine
Libraries are for nerds, malls are our shrine

People discussin’ Politics, are branded “uncool”,
While whose dating whom, is what’s discussed in schools..
Watchin’ the K-soaps, filled with conspiracies and deceits,
Or movies that patronize, the Romeos on the streets..
Newspapers we’d like to read, but only for the lack of time
Just go through the headlines, not caring for what’s inside.
While the coMEDIAns keep on showing us murders and rapes,
Or illicit acts of depraved celebs, caught “EXCLUSIVEly” on tape..

All of this’ just to keep us entertained, so we don’t do much thinking,
So that no eyebrows are raised, as the stock ex keeps sinking..
So that Nuclear deals get signed, without public consent,
So that soldiers keep on dying, without a trace of repent,
So that the blood flowing in the streets, goes uninvestigated,
So that inadvertently, bullion keeps rising, the markets get inflated..
We leave the police to deal with the muggers and the squatters,
While keepin’ ourselves busy, in the Archie’s and the Potters’..

Why, we believe such lies (read: NEWS), aired on a telly,
That insurgents were collared, plannin’ to blow up Delhi..
But their identities aren’t revealed, jus’ their pictures
Along with the word “TERRORIST”, are printed in the news-scriptures.
All just to contaminate our minds with hatred and rage,
So that wars on our neighbor, can be undisputedly staged..
So that we forget, people on the other side, also value life,
And just like us, are pawns debased by politicians’ strife..

We all know, things are bad, that they need to be changed,
That the prevailing political system needs to be rearranged,
We can all easily deliver, meticulous lengthy lectures,
Upon our loop holed economic, or penal architecture.
But actually, that’s not the way it’s supposed to be,
What talking has achieved to date, is for yourself to see..

And I ain’t askin’ you to revolt, or ignite a revolution,
Or go out there and challenge the constitution,
Nor beat the hell outta’ every corrupt cop,
Or even go on a picketing hunger strike, nonstop..
All I want is that you look yourself in the eyes and ask,
Who are you really kidding, hiding under this mask?
To proclaim to this world, that your life has a meaning,
That you can no longer be duped, you are no longer a weenie..

To understand that the power lies in your very hands,
That you won’t allow any MNC to reap off your lands,
To ask pointed questions and demand direct answers,
To cure your motherland from this political cancer..
To change yourself first, before questioning others,
That irrespective of religion, we are all maternal brothers..
These divides were strategized by the Men behind the curtain,
To con us, mislead us and make their ballots certain..

To stop thinkin’ bout the ‘I’, rather care about the ‘We’,
To no longer be a slave to such spiteful hypocrisy..
To really mean it when we say, we are proud of our nation,
Goddamnit, it’s our own home and cleansing it, is OUR obligation..

aiSAE hi..

Disclaimer: All events and happenings in the following content is purely fictitious, imaginary and made up. Any resemblance to a person living or dead, especially Steve Jobs, for instance, is purely co-incidental. It’s purely a byproduct of an idle mind subjected to overexposure of this video:

http://news-service.stanford.edu/news/2005/june15/videos/51.html

Reader’s discretion is advised.

Dear diary,

Today was hectic as hell. My day started at 3:15 in the morning/night at the Ranchi station and I didn’t get a moments rest after that.
After a whole day of sweating it out in the sun to man our car’s stall at the convo, all we got was a nod of appreciation from the governor and a free lunch, which was meant actually for staffs and their families. That, to a large extent explained the disgusted looks on a teacher’s face whenever we greeted one.
The much awaited VC’s speech was lethargic and languid as nobody gave a damn ‘bout what the old hog muttered.. I mean, the alumni coming in from the length and breadth of the country and even abroad, deserved more than just a complementary dinner and an enduring ceremony.
Hope my convo is better.. much better than this.. Maybe one day I’ll get invited at our junior’s convo to egg them on for their forthcoming life. Maybe…

*

“I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.


The first story is about connecting the dots.

An IIT engineer was at the pier of a small coastal Bengali village, when a small boat with just one fisherman, docked. Inside the small boat were several large Hilsa. The IITian complimented the fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them. The fisherman replied, "Only a little while, babu…"

The IITian then asked, "Why didn't you stay out longer and catch more fish?"
The fisherman said he had enough to support his family's immediate needs.
The IITian then asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"

The Bengali fisherman said, “Beshi kicchu na.. dupoor barota ghoom theke oothi.., taarpore ektoo machh dhoree.. baachader shonge ektu khela kori.. ranna-tanna kore bou shonge aabar ektu ghumoi..”
“Shondhe bela uthe ektu gaon ghure aashi, bondhu der shonge cha-ta khai.. kirket (sic) er kotha kori.. jeebon ae aar kichu chai na.. joto aache.. tai khoob..”

(“I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, stroll into the village each evening where I sip tea and discuss cricket (kirket??!!) with my friends. I have a full and busy life..”)

The IITian scoffed, "I am an IIT engineer and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat and with the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You can then leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Kolkata, then Bombay and eventually the US where you will run your expanding enterprise."

The fisherman asked, “Kintu.. ae shob korar jonne.. koto shomoy laagbe??”
(“But, how long will all this take?")

To which the IITian replied, "15-20 years."

“ Taarpore?" (“But what then?”)

The IITian grinned triumphantly and said, "That's the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would earn in crores."

"Crores ?? Then what?"

The IITan said, "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip tea and discuss cricket with your friends…."


So as you see, planning too far ahead will land you nowhere.. you are going to end up at square one..
You can't change the past, but you can ruin the present by worrying over the future. Once again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

My second story is about love and loss.

I had participated in an extempore once in this very college and the topic given to me was..
“All’s well, that doesn’t end well”.

On the outset, I was quite puzzled as to what should I say on such an inane topic that would be meaningful enough to land me podium position. I had only a minute to think up my points and for the initial forty seconds or so, I must say, was totally blank..
Then, I just aimlessly looked around the hall, and my eyes fell on one of my friends, and that was when I realized the actuality of the topic. Here’s what I said…

“Most of us, who have ever experienced the feeling of being in love, would know that love and loss are inseparable like two sides of a coin. They say that if you are lucky, you get your first love and luckier, if you don’t…

By the way, the unlucky ones are those who never really fall in love..

Anyways, going back to the saying, when we are in love, all our emotions, right from anger to joy and anxiety to elation, are connected to that one special person or thing. Without them, life looks meaningless and emotionless. Daily activities such as eating, sleeping and even recreation become irrelevant. So, I can safely say that love is what gives life its purpose.

But the amazing thing is that whenever we encounter loss in love, above all what we lose is this purpose. There’s no denying it, we all feel it. Even I did. I felt very bad at that point of time. In fact, to put it mildly, I was devastated..

But then I thought, there is a reason for this suffering. Maybe destiny has bigger things in store for me and maybe this little relationship was just a rounding error compared to the other mishaps I would have to face in life. Losing what we love is never the end of life.. it’s actually the beginning, coz that is when we understand that god has enough faith in us to let us handle our problems alone.
So, remember that all may not be well at the end, but believe that if all’s not well, then it’s not the end….. Picture abhi baaki hai mere dossst..!!”

Cheesy.. I must admit, but if you are wondering, then well I didn’t land a spot among the top three mainly due to two reasons, firstly, I exceeded the time limit and secondly my voice was incomprehensible due to excessive maniacal whooping the previous night!!
Anyways that’s not the point. The point is that ifs and buts shouldn’t have a place in our lives.
You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.



My third story is about death.

One of my friends once told me an experience she had, which a lot us would’ve had in our childhood. At that moment, it was something of little value to me, but it was only when I experienced something similar, that I understood how invaluable it was…

Here’s what she said….

“When I was little... the first time that I rode a bicycle......my sister ran alongside, holding the seat.
Listen to me, na... she was running alongside...
...and I kept turning back, asking...

'Di, are you there?
Di, are you there? '
She said 'You've got to look ahead... look ahead.'

After a few moments I turned my head again to see...
...that she was standing quite a distance away, smiling.

And… and I had learned to ride a bicycle!!
I'll never forget that day. Never, you know…”

“The amazing thing is, I got to relive that day...
Only this time I was holding the seat...
...and my lil’ sis was riding the bicycle.

"No... no turning back...
Look ahead. Look ahead.'

'Di, are you there?
Di, are you there? '

And I let go…..
When she turned back and looked at me......she was smiling…. Just like you are…”

We laughed the moment off, but, later it made me think… how many such days do I remember?

The first time I bunked school? The first time I had a fight?

My first time on stage?

The first time I held a girl's hand? My first kiss? My first love?

How many such days??

Twenty years of existence and just 20 days of life??

It's these precious moments that constitute a life....that transform the mundane into the unforgettable...

When we grow old, it’s only these few special days that remain etched in our memories…. The rest just somehow, fade away….

What’s the point of just whiling the days away, when they don’t leave a mark on our or anyone else’s lives..

We are remembered by the gifts that we leave behind for our loved ones… and not by what we amassed for ourselves.. Are you aware that if we died tomorrow, the company that we are working for would easily replace us in a matter of days. But the family we left behind will feel the loss for the rest of their lives. And come to think of it, we pour ourselves more into work than to our own family; an unwise investment indeed, don't you think?

In conclusion all I will say is, there is no reason not to follow your heart. Count your blessings, not your troubles. Within you are so many answers, understand, have courage, be strong. Learn to be responsible for your decisions. And above all, Life, is not a race, as people generally tag it, coz when you run so fast to get somewhere, you miss half the fun of getting there. …

“Life is short, do take it slower..
Hear the music, before the song’s over..”

THANK YOU…..”

***

The dreadful buzzing of the mosquitoes woke me up. I checked my watch which said 03:34.
Nice dream, I thought as I removed my sweaty head from the table and slowly realized that we had an all-too-frequent-power-outage in our beloved hostel.

This, is what passion for something does to you. But I don’t regret. Least of all it gave me four hours of intense sleep, something which I had been deprived of for quite some time now. Only.. if I could get rid of this horrible back pain now..

EXPERIMENT No. - 3

AIM: To determine tissue count, under standard conditions, in patience testing equipment





APPARATUS:

1. One Computer



2. A Net connection



3. One Box of Tissues



4. Electricity (if in B.I.T. pls don't read during exam time.....)



5. Lot's of Patience (may as well call it as how to waste 15 mins. behind a measly web-page!!!)

PROCEDURE:

• We first check and see if anybody was around, and if found were kicked out.




• The door was firmly latched, mobiles switched off and all active chat windows were closed.





• The box of tissues was carefully opened.





• Read along..........

“Don’t, please don’t leave”, I said
Flashing a somnolent smile, she shook her head,

“I have to, my folks are waitin’..
”only a matter of two days”, she said contemplatin’.

"Eons would end before these two days do,
how, just how do you expect me to live without you?”

“Just try n understand, you have to lemme go”
And as she voiced those words, I spoke no more.

Leaving her nestled hand, placing It where it belonged
I took two steps back, as the silence prolonged.

As she forged a smile, her puckered lips unfurled and bent,
In an expression that said cheerio, I’ll miss you, she meant…

I walked away from her till into the horizon her shadows strew,
And when I checked my phone, an unread message was due.
“ u cud hv said gdbye” it read,
“well… I wasn’t ready….” I said.

crickets crooning in a concert a lonely moon lit up the night sky,
I messaged that reminiscent number Which read ”chk ur mail.. bbye :)”

PART ONE: THE PANEGYRIC

Her breath had no longer the warmth
The glint in her eyes was doused,
Enveloped in the eternal sleep
In a casket she was housed.

There she lay, With A white lily in her palms
And a placid smile on her face,
Adorned in an angels gown
An epitome of beauty, serenity and grace..

Even the heavens were in mourning
the horizon was cloaked with snow,
and as a token of their lament
a branch flittered down the cypress bough.

The silence was screeching in my ears
All around me people were whining,
Seeking alleviation I looked skywards
Clouds aplenty, but alas, there was no silver lining.

The final nail in the coffin was to be struck,
The last remaining rights had been read,
The bishop beckoned to eulogize the deceased
Ignoring her kinsmen, I was called upon instead..


“I refuse to eulogize my beloved
Coz eulogizing her would be accepting her death,
In every pulse I can feel her love,
Her fragrance still lingers in my every breath”
“her love’s been like the guiding star
In the dark and lonely night,
Death’s a transition, the soul is eternal
Her memories shall forever show me the light”
“And of what basis is our religion
About which we so proudly boast,
Burying a body after death,
Is there no difference between a human and compost”

Tears welled up in my eyes
My voice could no longer succor my emotions,
Gasping incessantly I was, at the pain
of being Separated from my lifelong devotion……

As I sat deluded by the carriage window
Staring aimlessly at the desolate scenery,
With a carpet of fallen leaves beneath me
But devoid of even a trace of greenery

While in my heart I prayed to god
please give her back to me
for just one more day,
if you then sentence me to a thousand deaths,
then so you very well may

one day, to relish true love’s one last kiss
all that I ask for is one more chance
to clasp her in my arms and hug her,
to cherish her innocent giggles and maybe, that one last dance.

To profess my undying love for her
just one more day, that’s all I am asking from you
and while in course of my thoughts
I was engulfed in a deep sense of déjà vu….

PART TWO: NOSTALGIA

The day’s as fresh in my mind as yesterday,
memories that instinctively light up my face,
the day when life looked so beautiful,
the day when all seemingly fell into place.

the day when each passing second was a lifetime,
a lifetime fulla’ joy and pleasure
the day when love looked viable,
the day I so fondly treasure.


The day we both were on the stage
Dramatizing eternal lovers of yore,
The day when I could say the unsaid
A day from which I could ask no more!

The setting was surreal, the décor extravagant
The apparel was unthrifty,
Only a handful teams were to be chosen
Out of more than a fifty .

To the almighty they all plead
“let us through god, for the sake of our schools reputation”
While I for one, was nurturing love in my heart,
In midst of all the anxiety and anticipation.

“O savior of the underdogs, The messiah of benevolence
Thou haft the might to upturn raging tides,
How arduous is it for you To variegate a scroll thence?”
“all I ask you for O omnipotent is an opportunity,
To subsist with my beloved another vesper,
To take her in my arms and sing the enchanted ditty”
“I don’t solicit a victory,
all my heart craves for is another day,
to say to her what I rehearse in my dreams,
to posses her an ephemeral, is all that I pray!”

but I’d preceded our prestige with my love
in a bid to be among the elite six,
guilt and shame engulfed me thereafter,
I felt like Judas facing a crucifix...

The awaited results begun to be announced
Relinquishing the anguish lasting hours,
“Please, o almighty just this one time” I plead
And lo! By gods grace, the sixth name was ours!

Thanking god I glanced her way,
as I ogled at her visage metamorphose
From pensive to elated, she capered with joy,
As if heckling the also-rans, who stood counting their toes!

At her I gazed, dazed and amazed
Like a child in an unmanned candy store,
she pranced around as though giddy with exult,
Like a cloud my heart begun to soar.

I stood stupefied by the sheen of her radiance
Hoping may this moment never end,
Her numinous beauty and enchanting charisma
Were singing a thousand ballads in my head...

she placed a soft, smoky glance on me
with her eyes all inquisitive,
with such innocence she asked, “what happen’d?”
that there wasn’t a answer I could give.

I yearned to hug her, caress her
More than anything I had ever desired,
My lips, incapable to voice my emotions
Finally blurted “I’m just tired!”

She nodded her head and gently smiled
As I tried to return the favor,
“I’m so happy to see you happy” I mumbled
But She was talking with her neighbor….

The final hour of performance had arrived
The pageant was ‘bout to culminate,
On his deathbed lay Romeo
While his darling sniveled at their fate..

The milieu was somber, lighting mellow
the ambience laden with fog,
while In midst of her colloquy, convulsions struck her
As if her lungs were choked with smog.


The wind got knocked outta’ her
Unable to draw in a single breath,
Her tears trickling into my gaping mouth
Were enough to awaken me from death..

I embraced her cheeks with my palms
Into her petrified eyes I gazed,
Disregarding the scenario, I began speaking
Leaving the judges cynical and audience amazed

My touch allayed her furrowed brow
as she firmly clasped my arms,
her eyes plead
“don’t let go off me, unfetter me of my qualm”

“dry your tears, O my dear
Let the gasping cease,
Death’s all but a steppingstone
Into the heavenly seas..
Our Love’s eternal, and can be killed by no
Venom nor barbaric knife,
If not in this then perhaps another,
We shall be together in life..”

“Like the expanse of the cosmos
And the depth of an abyss,
My love for you is infinite,
Loves my religion, reverie my worship
And you dear, are my Aphrodite”

"I’ve forever adored you o precious
From the day our eyes first met…..”
overcome by the sway of the moment I took her name,
instead of saying Juliet!!

Astounded, dumbfounded, enchanted she sat,
I veneered my words with a kiss,
She kissed me back and drenched me with love,
As I reveled in heavenly bliss………

PART THREE: ENLIGHTENMENT

The buggy braked abruptly with a jerk
Rousing me from my trance,
As the child sitting in front of me
Gave me a weepy glance..

His father gently held his hand
As they both got up to leave,
The child picked up a gift-wrapped box,
And wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

As he quietly made his way out
He glanced my way again,
And I felt as if, of all people
This kid could best feel my pain..

I looked outside and what I saw
Was like a painting come alive,
Upon a frozen lake, sat a solitary lass,
Fishing in the hostile clime’!

She was humming an elusive tune
was draped in a woolen tog,
Her little fingers sculpted the snow
While her pole rested on a log

A startling shriek broke the lull
As her slackened thread got taut,
She sprang into action perfervidly,
Winding the reel on the pivot..

Her face dazzling with diligent zeal
As if granted a lifelong wish,
She frantically whirled the crank around,
Expecting a swarm of fish..

She frolicked at her trivial catch,
Like a flower in full bloom..
While on the other side of the lake
Life looked engulfed in gloom...

The lad meandered his way through,
Where ice gave way to slush.
He stumbled and fumbled all along
Like a cripple without a crutch.

he snugly held the box with him
as if embracing its contents,
while his father steadily guided him,
wherever those young legs went.

he stopped near a hoary rock,
and upon it placed the box,
while a gentle breeze, to dry his tears
caressed his golden locks...

he took out a glassy pitcher from it
which had a speck of gold,
it glimmered and floated all about
like an ember getting cold.

his hands trembled at its sight
I could faintly hear him gasp,
His father overcome with apprehension
Freed it from his clasp.

He filled up the remaining half with water
And said a silent prayer..
While the boy stared at the golden speck
With eyes full of despair..

Those haunting eyes that said so much,
What words can never say,
The gaff of death impaled his soft heart
Flooding it with dismay...

The glass coffin was placed in water
And nudged along the sleet,
Like a sinking ship it tumbled beneath
the frozen white sheet...

opposite to him the little girl,
stood still like a stave,
as she watched the little goldfish descend,
into its watery grave..

her puerile glee gave way to remorse
her eyes were doused with tears,
in moments she had acquired the wisdom,
we fail to learn in years...

true love is not always holding back,
sometimes its setting ’em free..
if they come back then very well rejoice,
or else they never belonged to thee..

she gently stroked the limpid fish,
wriglin’ and wigglin’ with all its might,
and unflinchingly dropped it back in water
waving her hands in delight...

My heart was aching, my vision blurred
inside me I felt weak..
a gust of wind felt particularly cold
along two lines on my cheeks...

once again I wept uninhibited
but this time with more joy than sorrow,
enlightened by the experience I felt,
torn between the pages of yesterday and tomorrow..

In life, we have to let our beloveds go
coz if not us, someday they have to,
we all enter into this world crying,
try and leave this world cryin’ behind you…….

The next morn’ I was welcomed back, with an unexpected sight
She stood beside my college gate, pensive and uptight.

I sneaked behind her and greeted her, with my mobile beep
She smiled at me, amazed, with eyes devoid of sleep.

“I read your mail over and over, and I cried all the way,
When I said ,let me go, that’s not what I meant to say!”

“Well.. a girl’s mind like the exchange, is somethin’ no one can predict,
What they say and what they actually mean, may very well contradict!!”

She smiled as if, concurrently complimented and condemned,
And said “ All night long, a question bugged me to no end….”

“Are you actually ready to bid adieu, to finally let go of me?”
With unparalleled nonchalance I replied “Well no...... I never will be”

Her lips were quivering and with her breath heaving
She said, “you no longer have to, coz I ain’t leaving….”

OBSERVATIONS:

The number of tissues consumed was found to be = ______

(no manipulations please..)

COMMENTS AND CONCLUSIONS:

To be written in comment box, plzzzzzz..

Happy Birthday!!

If I told you a girl, whose smile’s like a riff
Short sweet rhythmic and yet stiff
It sways you of your feet and lands you on the moon,
You think you are the king of the world
and yet, no better than a loon….

When sighted from a distance you ponder
Is it me or is it someone else yonder,
Who got the coveted prize of a resplendent smile,
one that resembles a star spangled sky on a moonless night
courteous coaxing carefree coy makes you forget the world defile……

a smile that can be as inviting as a lemon tart
and yet can be colder than the devils heart
a smile that has the power to hale and heal,
the might to melt a despot, dethrone a tyrant, dreck a diamond
dimples that demean your demeanor, a shimmer so surreal…..

dazzling, snazzy, gleaming, beaming,
a twinkle, a glimmer, a spangle, a shimmer,
a glint, a sheen, dazzles umpteen,
scintillatingly phosphorescent, radiant and fulgurant
as transparent as a raindrop, of effeminate charisma
yet shrouded with mystery, a perplexing enigma


like the warmth disseminated by a smoldering hearth
like the fragrant whiff of raindrops caressing the parched earth
like the waves that moisten your face as they crash ashore
like listening the giggles of someone you adore
like the sunshine glistering through the autumn trees
like unfolding an ancient map, all yellow and creased
like finding loose change in an old pair of jeans
like discovering a picture of your parents in their teens
like the gentle touch of a swaying feather
a smile that’s more than all of this put together…..

TENSILE STRENGTH ANALYSIS:

Life as we call it is kinda funny, more like a reality show on the chatterbox…coz sumtimes its events can get so zany, so hilarious, so nerve wrecking, so dumbfounding, so annoying , so absolutely unfathomable… that it becomes kinda hard to believe that it’s all happening for real…


Well no point in beating bout the bush…case in point is a recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friend’s place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end and all of them being transported in a buggy vehicle meant to seat 8( well..Uh…legally speakin..!)….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end and all of them being transported in a buggy vehicle meant to seat 8 n who shot pics as if they were auditioning for some Bhojpuri version of F.R.I.E.N.D.S.….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end and all of them being transported in a buggy vehicle meant to seat 8 n who shot pics as if they were auditioning for some Bhojpuri version of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. and who killed 5 hours under the label of “havin a rockin time” by playing games with conveniently tweaked rules, some that our granddads would have played when they were in kindergarten… and by discovering newer ways of pestering their pals.….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end and all of them being transported in a buggy vehicle meant to seat 8 n who shot pics as if they were auditioning for some Bhojpuri version of F.R.I.E.N.D.S and who killed 5 hours under the label of “havin a rockin time” by playing games with conveniently tweaked rules, some that our granddads would have played when they were in kindergarten, and by discovering newer ways of pestering their pals, which resulted in some niggling tantrums and some impromptu “roothna manaana” , filled with such hopeless pj’s and one liners that even Siddhu couldn’t force a giggle outta them.….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end and all of them being transported in a buggy vehicle meant to seat 8 n who shot pics as if they were auditioning for some Bhojpuri version of F.R.I.E.N.D.S and who killed 5 hours under the label of “havin a rockin time” by playing games with conveniently tweaked rules, some that our granddads would have played when they were in kindergarten, and by discovering newer ways of pestering their pals, which resulted in some niggling tantrums and some impromptu “roothna manaana” , filled with such hopeless pj’s and one liners that even Siddhu couldn’t force a giggle outta them, and that in midst of it all we forgot that we had to return to our entrapments by 5:30 and that by the time we finally got some sense knocked in our heads it was already 5:00 .….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end and all of them being transported in a buggy vehicle meant to seat 8 n who shot pics as if they were auditioning for some Bhojpuri version of F.R.I.E.N.D.S and who killed 5 hours under the label of “havin a rockin time” by playing games with conveniently tweaked rules, some that our granddads would have played when they were in kindergarten, and by discovering newer ways of pestering their pals, which resulted in some niggling tantrums and some impromptu “roothna manaana” , filled with such hopeless pj’s and one liners that even Siddhu couldn’t force a giggle outta them, and that in midst of it all we forgot that we had to return to our entrapments by 5:30 and that by the time we finally got some sense knocked in our heads it was already 5:00 and then, when we had to pick two of our people up, n while we were waitin, we ran into some drunk with bloodshot eyes who thought that clearing all traffic hold ups was at his beckoning, and when one of us guys tried to reason he very “politely” enlightened him about his relations with his daughter and sister .….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end and all of them being transported in a buggy vehicle meant to seat 8 n who shot pics as if they were auditioning for some Bhojpuri version of F.R.I.E.N.D.S and who killed 5 hours under the label of “havin a rockin time” by playing games with conveniently tweaked rules, some that our granddads would have played when they were in kindergarten, and by discovering newer ways of pestering their pals, which resulted in some niggling tantrums and some impromptu “roothna manaana” , filled with such hopeless pj’s and one liners that even Siddhu couldn’t force a giggle outta them, and that in midst of it all we forgot that we had to return to our entrapments by 5:30 and that by the time we finally got some sense knocked in our heads it was already 5:00 and then when we had to pick two of our people up, n while we were waitin, we ran into some drunk with bloodshot eyes who thought that clearing all traffic hold ups was at his beckoning, and when one of us guys tried to reason he very “politely” enlightened him about his relations with his daughter and sister and by the time the two guys retuned twas already 5:30 and that was exactly when that bloody dolt of a driver got a brainwave to stock up on some gas for the journey .….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end and all of them being transported in a buggy vehicle meant to seat 8 n who shot pics as if they were auditioning for some Bhojpuri version of F.R.I.E.N.D.S and who killed 5 hours under the label of “havin a rockin time” by playing games with conveniently tweaked rules, some that our granddads would have played when they were in kindergarten, and by discovering newer ways of pestering their pals, which resulted in some niggling tantrums and some impromptu “roothna manaana” , filled with such hopeless pj’s and one liners that even Siddhu couldn’t force a giggle outta them, and that in midst of it all we forgot that we had to return to our entrapments by 5:30 and that by the time we finally got some sense knocked in our heads it was already 5:00 and then when we had to pick two of our people up, n were waitin, we ran into some drunk with bloodshot eyes who thought that clearing all traffic hold ups was at his beckoning, and when one of us guys tried to reason he very “politely” enlightened him about his relations with his daughter and sister and by the time the two guys retuned twas already 5:30 and that was exactly when that bloody dolt of a driver got a brainwave to stock up on some gas for the journey ,which in turn aggravated the already raging tempers, resulting in some unexpected character shifts…4 guys went off to sleep, one started praying, one said lets return back and stay over at a friends place, one was expressionless, as if under the influence of Pink Floyd-grade weed, the rest, to put it mildly were pensive..while only two of us were engaged in some nonsense banter in a frantic(and pretty useless, must say) bid to lighten the mood, while the hands of the clock hovered dangerously near six ..….


Whatever we said, one thing was clear ….everyone expected the worst…what was to happen was going to be ugly…reputations, prestige, self respect were words long forgotten as the only thing on our minds was what could prevent THE warden from unleashin her full quota of wrath…..


And to know what happened next……..keep watchin this space for more!!!!







































Perseverance eh?

Well then…to tell you the truth…nothing bad happened, nobody was scolded, no complains lodged, no suspensions issued, nobody’s folks were called….it all ended just the way it does in those “reality” shows..everyone went back smiling ear to ear, with an experience they could proudly narrate to their grandkids…


Though one thing did become clear….today was a day when the tensile strength of lotsa things were tested…our friendships, our characters, our bonhomy, our tenacity, our vocal chords, our digestive systems….and probably a lot more…but one thing that did pass the test easily, proving to be THE MOST TENSILE among all of this was the rules, here at B.I.T.!!!



P.S. :If the term Tensile Strength ain’t lucid enough then here’s what the Merriam-Webster Dictionary has to say bout it:
tensile strength :(tensl strengkth)n. Abbr. T.S., t.s. The ability of a material to resist a force tending to tear it apart, measured as the maximum amount the material can bend without breaking......