SNIGGER TRIGGER
Do you remember those ‘extra silly content’ Evil dead movies? Most of them contain these skeletons coming back to life and moving about with that fascinating grin and a high pitched laugh that sounds similar to a million mice being crushed.
Well, that remarkable experience needn’t be luxuriated in the movies anymore…we present to you, ‘the 20th century hip chic’s’.
These marvels may be thus available at the local malls or restro’s from evening 6 pm to 11 pm.
Well, here’s how it usually goes, a gang of gals…all with their hair loose, some jewelry or cheap baubles tied around their ‘spotless’ necks or around their waists (provided the size isn’t too huge that u may need a meter length belt). The components of such phenomena are: one who has a sleeveless top, and a cheap deo, which indicates the benevolence of the woman for the fellow mortals, another with a jeans and a pink tee with a pair of those branded brown shaded sunglasses bought by loans and borrowings, another called the ‘mobile fairy’ who never seems to get tired of the mobile, even if she wasn’t talking to anybody, another ugly one…the conscious girl who is extra smart and tries to compensate the looks with her orangutan mouth. Well, a few more specimens can be added depending on the location. For example, a pop corn potti at a movie or a shop bag mademoiselle with some branded covers filled with cheap clothes desperately needed to be stitched at a mall road.
Well, what ever they may do, its their merriment, I don’t care about that…but here lies the tormenting part. Why do they snigger like a bunch of hyenas ready with a plan for a practical joke? Of course, accompanied with those foxy looks!! Every time I see such a gang, the only picture that dances in front of me is that of a bunch of monkeys who has found a coconut and is soooo satisfied with their lives at that point, that they wouldn’t mind anybody killing them.
The chaste ritual takes place in a circular gathering and peeping about (obviously, with their cell phones in their hands) the place to scrutinize the infernal beings and then…hold on…if you think they bother to make comments about you…well, there’s a 63% chances that you are right, and ok fine…that’s acceptable logically, for a ‘dude’ dressed like a gypsy would somewhat attract attention. Well, that’s not the point of discussion, the question I pose is, why do they chuckle at every word? For every second? As if they were born programmed to howl like a howler monkey every few seconds! They seem to get excited for everything; a cute child and the expression goes “ssssssss waaaaaah, soooo cuuute!!! hehehehe”, a dress that they find window shopping, “ oooooh waaaaah!!! hehehe”, and don’t ever try to crack a joke, they’ll bring down the place with the roar.
Damn!!!
These scatterbrained expressions are usually implemented in their coquettish appeal to make their presence felt in the crowd; after all, the beauty parlor cost and the dresses they buy for that sacred occasion, must be compensated with some food or drinks contributed to the cause by some IT guys or college dudes who drool at the sight of any thing moving that can be gendered female. The guys are no less, every guy tries to don the look, rather called the expressionless face of John Abraham, with a mobile phone (a camera phn is a must), a pandi jeans with shades of green, copper, gold and even maroon; a pair of those Rs.99 worth imported glasses and a bike. The tee’s are usually the cheap Nike or Reebok or Adidas, in some cases, all the brands appear on the same tee shirt! The colors are florescent green or orange to easily distinguish these dandies in the crowd.
Great combo at work next. The chittar pattar chat at the coffee shop or a restro goes mainly about movies and the girls seem to be the best critics of all the elements of the movie industry. If only they used their flawless talent in the industry…phew!!!
But this is not sthg which you may call to be the harmless fun done once in a while, but it goes on everyday in the manner of an auto walla who picks different passengers, these girls pick different guys at different times of the day for food. Just think…food!!! Damn! Whoever said Somalia was in Africa was a fool…we have top grade imports from there.
But if girls were reading this ‘reprobate’ (they’d be swearing at me for sure) article, wud you please tell me…why you resort to such sleazy acts? I wanna know why you keep sniggering all the time atleast…
If only the parents are reading this, well…feed your girls…they seem hungry as the troupe monkeys, who get a morsel for each namaste they offer.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Nailed!!!!
NAILED
Whoever invented the ridiculous idea of growing nails for a hobby probably never bought itch guard or they were infected with the idea and psoriasis, eczema or scabies.
I don’t condemn the ‘ingenious’ fancy of men or women growing finger nails, but what irritates me is that fully grown men growing a single finger nail, calling it a novel experience. And they never seem to get tired of it. Well, just imagine how it would be while you were digging your nose with it or caressing somebody…damn!! It’d be annoying. And the obvious problem of the common Indians who don’t wipe their bottom but wash it…well…it’s sure gonna be a pain in the arse.
The care taken by them for that ‘splendid’, ‘unique’ nail is outrageously risible. They festoon the godforsaken nail with all kinds of spangles, polish or even go to the level of applying mehandi to that hand alone.
What takes it to the horribly ludicrous stages is they take pride in the feminine decorations and start using their mothers’ or sisters’ hairsprays or flowers or nail paints and the disease seems to spread from the hand to the other parts too. Just imagine a swarthy, lanky jackass with a pink nail standing out and his face gleaming with self-exaltation. They effeminate to such morbid levels, that even girls start envying them and go about them for they somehow seem to like the company of like minds…hell.
The worst of all maybe the lipstick. Damn it!! They smear their ‘voluptuous’ lips which used to smoke cheap bidi’s or chew those beetle nut pans with pink/ maroon lip sticks that make those lips look like the bottom of a baboon. And they just don’t stop it there…they smear those wrecked lips over and over with it, say every time when he’d comb his hair.
The next comes talcum powder. Those guys would empty cans and cans for they come cheap. Where they may use it? Well, mostly the content goes into those dark, smelly, hairy armpits and over the hairy chest and belly and some even into the underwear to get rid of itching due to the sweat. The worst comes when they use cheap scent or the 1+1 offer deo’s over the talcum powder.
The ‘brave, daring’ dudes (dude? Is he anymore called so?) can try further to get pierced. Well, yeah in multiple locations which make em look sexy as they might claim it. Nose, ears, bellybuttons…oooomphhh what a sight!!!
Look, what a bloody nail did to the manhood. Tch tch tch…
Just imagine for instance what’d happen if all men started to take interest in these demented hobbies. We’d have a separate slot for the lipstick in the jeans, a comb up the sleeve, a mirror in the breast (well, this word sounds better than chest in this instance) pocket, pink wallets, and yeah…pink cigarettes.
Well…I don’t know abt the rest of India, but being from Andhra, I’ve seen this deranged practice here only till now. I hope its not contagious.
Whoever invented the ridiculous idea of growing nails for a hobby probably never bought itch guard or they were infected with the idea and psoriasis, eczema or scabies.
I don’t condemn the ‘ingenious’ fancy of men or women growing finger nails, but what irritates me is that fully grown men growing a single finger nail, calling it a novel experience. And they never seem to get tired of it. Well, just imagine how it would be while you were digging your nose with it or caressing somebody…damn!! It’d be annoying. And the obvious problem of the common Indians who don’t wipe their bottom but wash it…well…it’s sure gonna be a pain in the arse.
The care taken by them for that ‘splendid’, ‘unique’ nail is outrageously risible. They festoon the godforsaken nail with all kinds of spangles, polish or even go to the level of applying mehandi to that hand alone.
What takes it to the horribly ludicrous stages is they take pride in the feminine decorations and start using their mothers’ or sisters’ hairsprays or flowers or nail paints and the disease seems to spread from the hand to the other parts too. Just imagine a swarthy, lanky jackass with a pink nail standing out and his face gleaming with self-exaltation. They effeminate to such morbid levels, that even girls start envying them and go about them for they somehow seem to like the company of like minds…hell.
The worst of all maybe the lipstick. Damn it!! They smear their ‘voluptuous’ lips which used to smoke cheap bidi’s or chew those beetle nut pans with pink/ maroon lip sticks that make those lips look like the bottom of a baboon. And they just don’t stop it there…they smear those wrecked lips over and over with it, say every time when he’d comb his hair.
The next comes talcum powder. Those guys would empty cans and cans for they come cheap. Where they may use it? Well, mostly the content goes into those dark, smelly, hairy armpits and over the hairy chest and belly and some even into the underwear to get rid of itching due to the sweat. The worst comes when they use cheap scent or the 1+1 offer deo’s over the talcum powder.
The ‘brave, daring’ dudes (dude? Is he anymore called so?) can try further to get pierced. Well, yeah in multiple locations which make em look sexy as they might claim it. Nose, ears, bellybuttons…oooomphhh what a sight!!!
Look, what a bloody nail did to the manhood. Tch tch tch…
Just imagine for instance what’d happen if all men started to take interest in these demented hobbies. We’d have a separate slot for the lipstick in the jeans, a comb up the sleeve, a mirror in the breast (well, this word sounds better than chest in this instance) pocket, pink wallets, and yeah…pink cigarettes.
Well…I don’t know abt the rest of India, but being from Andhra, I’ve seen this deranged practice here only till now. I hope its not contagious.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Boundaries
BOUNDARIES
“Defeat is not bitter until you swallow it”-
Joe Clark
“Nothing contributes so much to tranquilize the mind as a steady purpose-a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye”
- (Frankenstein) Mary Shelley
Attitude is one of those few accepted words which have no fortune of consummation.
Steve Jobs, the founder and CEO of Apple and Pixar, was a college dropout, had worked on his projects by selling tin cans. He and Steve Wozinak set up the company in 1976, facing a lot of resistance. Jobs was fired from his company in 1986. He was back on streets. 3 months later Pixar is born. His ever burning flame of passion has never abated. His genius again came forth with the introduction of I-pod and I-tunes.
The heroes above…attitude and ambition.
The world has seen many such great personalities. The likes of Mahatma Gandhi, Pandit Nehru, Jack Welch, Narayana Murthy so on, are worth reading about.
Attitude chisels success out of a rock. After all, excellence is not a skill, it's an attitude. It is the attitude that makes us either the winner or the loser. The attitude brings in such profound and intense belief that everything that we pursue makes it "do-able". The British could have never believed that a fragile frame, half covered, without any weapons can fuel a freedom struggle by pursuing Non- violence or 'Satyagraha' and drive the emotions of the illiterate Indians to throw the British regime out of India. It was that "belief", the conviction and the most importantly "the commitment". It is promise which is made to "oneself" and to others. That's attitude.
"It is your attitude more than your aptitude that will determine your altitude"- Gary.V.Carter
We see people around us, all pretending to live, try very hard don't they?
We sometimes feel out of a place, as an oddity to the scene playing...until we discover the abode which was meant for us, something our own, something which was of us.
It is believed that artists and writers lead the most consummate lives, for they know of no boundaries in their profession and there is none to limit them, and for these are the talents not every one has and the ones who possess them realize them better and easier than others who maybe of a different class of itinerants on this path leading to ecstasy. In practical terms, Creativity and Innovation can be applied in every aspect of "doing things". Be it a writer, painter, theatre artist, corporate citizen, software programmer, architect or even a politician. The premise is "the sole purpose" of "doing things" and the benefit of doing things for self and the society as a whole. Each one of us has the responsibility to shoulder to contribute with that stretch of creativity and innovation.
The question is purpose. Are we pursuing it with that single minded dedication to achieve it or are we simple procrastinators putting it off for tomorrow or somebody else to take care of it. Have we defined the purpose of our doing it and are we adding value to it? Or are we living in a world of 'Make belief". The problem we face is that of lack of purpose and in absence of a worthwhile purpose. We follow a path called "unconventional" or "radical" which is neither of any benefit to self or to the society at large. It is such a sad sight to see young minds drifting away, despite the opportunities knocking at their doors loudly, screaming for them to "focus, innovate and commit" and to see them pursuing mundane and beaten paths, by personifying the "radicalism", by dressing themselves “unconventionally" and contradicting conventions in the name of being unconventional and drawing a blank.
What are we a worth of? How to realize what we were meant to be?
Emerson says:
“I shun father, mother and wife and brothers when my genius calls me.
I do not wish to expiate, but to live. My life is not an apology, but a life. It is for itself and not for a spectacle.”
The problem is the human race is suffering from a contagious and deadly disease of fear and intimidation and fear of failure. Defeat maybe temporary, but giving up is what makes it permanent.
We intend to reject our thoughts because after all, they are our own. We do not dare to say ‘I think’, but we like getting carried away by the current. Is it the fear of commitment? Is it the fear of sacrifice? Or is it that we were manufactured to be lazy?
The solution is a 3 word mantra-‘aim, focus and belief’, the solution to this reek of the lack of individualism, lack of faith. Our faith and perseverance shall reinforce our personality.
"Dream as if you will live forever. Live as if you will die today"
James Dean
Many at NITC look and feign frustration, cloaking themselves in hopelessness. But this is only due to the lack of ambition, a solid attitude and commitment. Anywhere is paradise; it’s only up to us. I do not wish to encourage effrontery in attitude, but in fact to show that in being unconventional (pursuing your expertise) you are doing nothing wrong. Suppressing your genius at the command of a stranger is stupidity. But beware, your path is yours. It was meant to be lonely. But timidity is no solution, it fact it’s a burgeoning problem.
Individuality comes into picture here. We must always insist on ourselves, never to ape.
Emerson says:
“Shakespeare will never be made by the study of Shakespeare”
There would be no expectations from a generation if we do not live our terms of our innate lives, than living as a work machine to follow commands from the society.
Again I stress that I do not mean we detach from the society. We only need to free our minds. But in the end, it’s our belief that builds it all.
An attitude or aims to start with, focus to achieve the milestones and belief for our nourishment.
We must realize that the keys to our manacles are in our own hands, only if we could free our minds, we shall see that there was never a word called ‘boundary’.
Let us remember,
“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all"- Oscar Wilde.
"The greatest danger for most of us is not that our aim is too high and we miss it, but it is too low and we reach it" - Michelangelo
We, the youth of today are capable of achieving the highest as the opportunities are all around. The technology, the understanding, is with us. All we need is to re look at ourselves, redefine our “purpose", bring in the focus and the commitment. In other words, we need to redress our attitude for doing the right things, which is self satisfying with the topping of excellence and purpose and rededicate ourselves.
Finally I leave you with a thought:
“Beware of the tyranny of making small change to small things. Rather make big changes to big things"-
Roger Enrico- Former Chairman- PepsiCo
-Adhikarla Saket Kashyap
S5, CE
sak_saket@yahoo.co.in
“Defeat is not bitter until you swallow it”-
Joe Clark
“Nothing contributes so much to tranquilize the mind as a steady purpose-a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye”
- (Frankenstein) Mary Shelley
Attitude is one of those few accepted words which have no fortune of consummation.
Steve Jobs, the founder and CEO of Apple and Pixar, was a college dropout, had worked on his projects by selling tin cans. He and Steve Wozinak set up the company in 1976, facing a lot of resistance. Jobs was fired from his company in 1986. He was back on streets. 3 months later Pixar is born. His ever burning flame of passion has never abated. His genius again came forth with the introduction of I-pod and I-tunes.
The heroes above…attitude and ambition.
The world has seen many such great personalities. The likes of Mahatma Gandhi, Pandit Nehru, Jack Welch, Narayana Murthy so on, are worth reading about.
Attitude chisels success out of a rock. After all, excellence is not a skill, it's an attitude. It is the attitude that makes us either the winner or the loser. The attitude brings in such profound and intense belief that everything that we pursue makes it "do-able". The British could have never believed that a fragile frame, half covered, without any weapons can fuel a freedom struggle by pursuing Non- violence or 'Satyagraha' and drive the emotions of the illiterate Indians to throw the British regime out of India. It was that "belief", the conviction and the most importantly "the commitment". It is promise which is made to "oneself" and to others. That's attitude.
"It is your attitude more than your aptitude that will determine your altitude"- Gary.V.Carter
We see people around us, all pretending to live, try very hard don't they?
We sometimes feel out of a place, as an oddity to the scene playing...until we discover the abode which was meant for us, something our own, something which was of us.
It is believed that artists and writers lead the most consummate lives, for they know of no boundaries in their profession and there is none to limit them, and for these are the talents not every one has and the ones who possess them realize them better and easier than others who maybe of a different class of itinerants on this path leading to ecstasy. In practical terms, Creativity and Innovation can be applied in every aspect of "doing things". Be it a writer, painter, theatre artist, corporate citizen, software programmer, architect or even a politician. The premise is "the sole purpose" of "doing things" and the benefit of doing things for self and the society as a whole. Each one of us has the responsibility to shoulder to contribute with that stretch of creativity and innovation.
The question is purpose. Are we pursuing it with that single minded dedication to achieve it or are we simple procrastinators putting it off for tomorrow or somebody else to take care of it. Have we defined the purpose of our doing it and are we adding value to it? Or are we living in a world of 'Make belief". The problem we face is that of lack of purpose and in absence of a worthwhile purpose. We follow a path called "unconventional" or "radical" which is neither of any benefit to self or to the society at large. It is such a sad sight to see young minds drifting away, despite the opportunities knocking at their doors loudly, screaming for them to "focus, innovate and commit" and to see them pursuing mundane and beaten paths, by personifying the "radicalism", by dressing themselves “unconventionally" and contradicting conventions in the name of being unconventional and drawing a blank.
What are we a worth of? How to realize what we were meant to be?
Emerson says:
“I shun father, mother and wife and brothers when my genius calls me.
I do not wish to expiate, but to live. My life is not an apology, but a life. It is for itself and not for a spectacle.”
The problem is the human race is suffering from a contagious and deadly disease of fear and intimidation and fear of failure. Defeat maybe temporary, but giving up is what makes it permanent.
We intend to reject our thoughts because after all, they are our own. We do not dare to say ‘I think’, but we like getting carried away by the current. Is it the fear of commitment? Is it the fear of sacrifice? Or is it that we were manufactured to be lazy?
The solution is a 3 word mantra-‘aim, focus and belief’, the solution to this reek of the lack of individualism, lack of faith. Our faith and perseverance shall reinforce our personality.
"Dream as if you will live forever. Live as if you will die today"
James Dean
Many at NITC look and feign frustration, cloaking themselves in hopelessness. But this is only due to the lack of ambition, a solid attitude and commitment. Anywhere is paradise; it’s only up to us. I do not wish to encourage effrontery in attitude, but in fact to show that in being unconventional (pursuing your expertise) you are doing nothing wrong. Suppressing your genius at the command of a stranger is stupidity. But beware, your path is yours. It was meant to be lonely. But timidity is no solution, it fact it’s a burgeoning problem.
Individuality comes into picture here. We must always insist on ourselves, never to ape.
Emerson says:
“Shakespeare will never be made by the study of Shakespeare”
There would be no expectations from a generation if we do not live our terms of our innate lives, than living as a work machine to follow commands from the society.
Again I stress that I do not mean we detach from the society. We only need to free our minds. But in the end, it’s our belief that builds it all.
An attitude or aims to start with, focus to achieve the milestones and belief for our nourishment.
We must realize that the keys to our manacles are in our own hands, only if we could free our minds, we shall see that there was never a word called ‘boundary’.
Let us remember,
“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all"- Oscar Wilde.
"The greatest danger for most of us is not that our aim is too high and we miss it, but it is too low and we reach it" - Michelangelo
We, the youth of today are capable of achieving the highest as the opportunities are all around. The technology, the understanding, is with us. All we need is to re look at ourselves, redefine our “purpose", bring in the focus and the commitment. In other words, we need to redress our attitude for doing the right things, which is self satisfying with the topping of excellence and purpose and rededicate ourselves.
Finally I leave you with a thought:
“Beware of the tyranny of making small change to small things. Rather make big changes to big things"-
Roger Enrico- Former Chairman- PepsiCo
-Adhikarla Saket Kashyap
S5, CE
sak_saket@yahoo.co.in
Monday, December 24, 2007
Triumph of chemistry
Triumph of chemistry
Matter, a fountain of marvel
alights from nullity, like a thought.
The composition we can decipher not…
The depths we can feel not.
The absoluteness of either…or the deeds,
I see not in any course of action.
Oh! The entropy, not a measure…a standard.
The bonds we build, always felt exoenergic
but the course of action demands its share.
Bonds…latticed by attritions, by prejudice.
The bond affinity was never thought about
The controller, the catalyst…avarice.
The frail life rusts to be termed tainted.
Coupling…a history, left to disintegrate.
The organic forms left to smother.
The rare metals gauge rare relations.
A carbon allotrope…termed a woman’s best friend.
Man satiates himself with aurum.
Alas! The poor elements
made of opposites…electrons and protons
never did churn love.
An electrical impulse sent to the brain;
Photosensitivity tested by a passing girl,
The hormones left to boil in frolic…
a wave of ecstasy sweeps both.
At shore, shorn of love…
Coming to senses, each demands its share.
An attempt to live…spoiled elementally
16/5/07- was a light hearted poem a friend asked for
Matter, a fountain of marvel
alights from nullity, like a thought.
The composition we can decipher not…
The depths we can feel not.
The absoluteness of either…or the deeds,
I see not in any course of action.
Oh! The entropy, not a measure…a standard.
The bonds we build, always felt exoenergic
but the course of action demands its share.
Bonds…latticed by attritions, by prejudice.
The bond affinity was never thought about
The controller, the catalyst…avarice.
The frail life rusts to be termed tainted.
Coupling…a history, left to disintegrate.
The organic forms left to smother.
The rare metals gauge rare relations.
A carbon allotrope…termed a woman’s best friend.
Man satiates himself with aurum.
Alas! The poor elements
made of opposites…electrons and protons
never did churn love.
An electrical impulse sent to the brain;
Photosensitivity tested by a passing girl,
The hormones left to boil in frolic…
a wave of ecstasy sweeps both.
At shore, shorn of love…
Coming to senses, each demands its share.
An attempt to live…spoiled elementally
16/5/07- was a light hearted poem a friend asked for
Thoughtless love
THOUGHTLESS LOVE
• The solace of numbness, the trance of rhapsody…a pulse of my throbbing heart in love with you.
• The seething waves, so taken by the full moon; rise and fall to get a glimpse of its love. The tumult in my heart…yet, all in vain.
• I am your shadow. Oh the loneliness of it! A hug it craves for; a whisper even so arduous, but to love you so dear…it lives in you…an obscure form. Wishes only to blend in you.
• Ah the beauty of darkness! Helps my heart to fall in love, than get mesmerized and be lost in your beauty.
• A smile of yours makes my heart palpitate wildly. It pangs with the plight that it cannot escape my form to reach you, if fears my life. Its madness so foolish, it doesn’t have the ken that I had none left when I filled mine with you entirely.
Random thoughts, demanding nothing, expecting nothing…vanity was the word.
• The solace of numbness, the trance of rhapsody…a pulse of my throbbing heart in love with you.
• The seething waves, so taken by the full moon; rise and fall to get a glimpse of its love. The tumult in my heart…yet, all in vain.
• I am your shadow. Oh the loneliness of it! A hug it craves for; a whisper even so arduous, but to love you so dear…it lives in you…an obscure form. Wishes only to blend in you.
• Ah the beauty of darkness! Helps my heart to fall in love, than get mesmerized and be lost in your beauty.
• A smile of yours makes my heart palpitate wildly. It pangs with the plight that it cannot escape my form to reach you, if fears my life. Its madness so foolish, it doesn’t have the ken that I had none left when I filled mine with you entirely.
Random thoughts, demanding nothing, expecting nothing…vanity was the word.
The melting azure
The melting azure
How the ethereal messengers charm!
A nomadic cluster, their placenta.
A thunder, the harbinger.
An ephemeral life to dry in the soil
A dark night’s rain…concealed.
An embrace so intimate pares the blanket.
Yet I beheld life, beheld love,
Through a smile of yours.
May boiling water calm on shoal,
But the tumult of love in me?
Oh! How dense of me for such a precipitation!
For my love seethes at every depth in me.
The brume holds me a vignette;
A visage no beauty can parallel.
A fleeting moment, a fleeting idol;
I freeze for myself; to bottle in my heart
A plant’s life I pondered for,
Hidden in the tenderness I knew not where.
I delved where mine lay.
So filled with you, I lost myself.
My heart more sensitive than aspen.
Take good care of it dear…
The mirth of these chiaroscuro’s
My love! Leave me not a castaway.
27/8/06- the faint drizzle that night made me write this, I was in fact dancing around in it…something you may enjoy when completely taken by something
How the ethereal messengers charm!
A nomadic cluster, their placenta.
A thunder, the harbinger.
An ephemeral life to dry in the soil
A dark night’s rain…concealed.
An embrace so intimate pares the blanket.
Yet I beheld life, beheld love,
Through a smile of yours.
May boiling water calm on shoal,
But the tumult of love in me?
Oh! How dense of me for such a precipitation!
For my love seethes at every depth in me.
The brume holds me a vignette;
A visage no beauty can parallel.
A fleeting moment, a fleeting idol;
I freeze for myself; to bottle in my heart
A plant’s life I pondered for,
Hidden in the tenderness I knew not where.
I delved where mine lay.
So filled with you, I lost myself.
My heart more sensitive than aspen.
Take good care of it dear…
The mirth of these chiaroscuro’s
My love! Leave me not a castaway.
27/8/06- the faint drizzle that night made me write this, I was in fact dancing around in it…something you may enjoy when completely taken by something
The confluence
The confluence
A scenery painted, an empty canvas weaving verve
I discern myself, seated there almost camouflaged in mirth.
The clamor of the birds to mellow me;
Their intimacy with the woods I wonder at.
Every flower a relation, every leaf to offer a canopy.
The butterflies; appliqué tailored on a fabric of the worlds.
The dew drops, ornaments of the slender grass,
Oh! How they carry the burden of beauty!
The ephemeral decorations, an immortal frame;
My heart guzzles the beauty.
Gods pour buckets of brilliance through the lacuna;
Floods every tiny reach…the ubiquitous sun.
The deep hum of the veteran woods.
The secret affairs of the young branches…
A brush, an embrace…youthful misdemeanors.
And then I see a falling leaf
The hazel tint…a sailing boat.
A falling heart…losing life, parched and withered for love.
All the rapture around ebbs away.
It sails and sails in the blue sky…hope.
Praying for an aegis, praying for his love.
The gods piqued, ‘he prays to her’ they say.
A bucket of raven, black as death…emptied
It empties every cup of mirth,
Knocking down all hope, they say.
Blinded already, he feels no murk.
The raven, he feels her hair.
The cover…his refuge in her eyes.
‘Curse if the gods’ not anymore.
For he is in love.
A storm they gift him
Gods eager to make him a castaway.
The rain his love cries,
The seething heart…no storm to match.
He fights in despair, what an affliction they face!
The pounding waves, her heart beat he feels;
Hears his in it too.
No more is he blinded, clear is his destiny.
He lays all hope in her now.
Thinks about her eyes so arcane…
So deep, so pure. The depths of emotion
Which he may never comprehend.
He feels lost…in limbo, is restless.
His heart stolen, not left with hers even.
He whispers her name, pleads the winds to kiss her for him.
But, the minions of the gods! They abandon him!
He swallows the misery, calls out her name.
Serenity to follow…the storm dries.
The rising sun engulfs the murk.
The warmth of her hug pours life.
The gods retreat in silence…subdued.
For the hearts do not belong to the mortal worlds now.
Her smile redeems the beauty in life.
The mystery of love…
Takes birth none know how.
It’s harmony with life…your name.
A tune rising from my heart, paints life.
The voice of nectar…paints hope.
18/1/07- I sat by the Rajpath for abt 2 hrs just thinking that day before I wrote this. The autumn leaves felt heavenly.
A scenery painted, an empty canvas weaving verve
I discern myself, seated there almost camouflaged in mirth.
The clamor of the birds to mellow me;
Their intimacy with the woods I wonder at.
Every flower a relation, every leaf to offer a canopy.
The butterflies; appliqué tailored on a fabric of the worlds.
The dew drops, ornaments of the slender grass,
Oh! How they carry the burden of beauty!
The ephemeral decorations, an immortal frame;
My heart guzzles the beauty.
Gods pour buckets of brilliance through the lacuna;
Floods every tiny reach…the ubiquitous sun.
The deep hum of the veteran woods.
The secret affairs of the young branches…
A brush, an embrace…youthful misdemeanors.
And then I see a falling leaf
The hazel tint…a sailing boat.
A falling heart…losing life, parched and withered for love.
All the rapture around ebbs away.
It sails and sails in the blue sky…hope.
Praying for an aegis, praying for his love.
The gods piqued, ‘he prays to her’ they say.
A bucket of raven, black as death…emptied
It empties every cup of mirth,
Knocking down all hope, they say.
Blinded already, he feels no murk.
The raven, he feels her hair.
The cover…his refuge in her eyes.
‘Curse if the gods’ not anymore.
For he is in love.
A storm they gift him
Gods eager to make him a castaway.
The rain his love cries,
The seething heart…no storm to match.
He fights in despair, what an affliction they face!
The pounding waves, her heart beat he feels;
Hears his in it too.
No more is he blinded, clear is his destiny.
He lays all hope in her now.
Thinks about her eyes so arcane…
So deep, so pure. The depths of emotion
Which he may never comprehend.
He feels lost…in limbo, is restless.
His heart stolen, not left with hers even.
He whispers her name, pleads the winds to kiss her for him.
But, the minions of the gods! They abandon him!
He swallows the misery, calls out her name.
Serenity to follow…the storm dries.
The rising sun engulfs the murk.
The warmth of her hug pours life.
The gods retreat in silence…subdued.
For the hearts do not belong to the mortal worlds now.
Her smile redeems the beauty in life.
The mystery of love…
Takes birth none know how.
It’s harmony with life…your name.
A tune rising from my heart, paints life.
The voice of nectar…paints hope.
18/1/07- I sat by the Rajpath for abt 2 hrs just thinking that day before I wrote this. The autumn leaves felt heavenly.
Stranger in the woods
Stranger in the woods
Soft, hollow whistles of the dark wind;
A trance filters through me.
A void I swim in…drawing a story everywhere;
All to evaporate in a trice…blinding even of the memories.
So tranquil, I float languidly…remote and pale.
A dripping dew drop wakes me;
The murmur of the hurrying brook.
The virgin landscape the golden ray’s parent;
My heart heaves along the tides…infinite colors they offer.
The brume holds the towering oaks apart.
A bleak spectacle. Salvation, the oaks plead for.
Sprites of the sun to free them,
An angel to free me.
The soft wave of the zephyrs; to the rhythm
The newborn leaves that dance.
The gentle sway of the veterans;
A song they sing to cheer life,
A heavenly flight of fantasy they offer…
Oh! For a moment I thought,
I was in love with life too.
Anger, hate and haste…how they were
Emotions my mind thought.
My heart never to sense, for it knows only you.
It knew only love…for it craves.
The bronze leaves that shiver under my feet,
The sharp severe cry reminds a fire.
The crackling mirage.
The chaste fire which digests the whole.
Its purity infallibly the prime.
My love to burn away the grief and limbo.
A cold fire, never to abate…tames death.
My love, the warmth it gives to my heart,
Against the coldest pain, against the blight rain.
You know not my love what keeps me alive?
The pale sky so in vain gathers strewn clouds.
My emotions I gather, an expression.
Alas! Only eternity amassed in silence…
In a tear.
Oh! The callous one dries, steals my love.
Trust I cannot anything…for they too fall in love with you.
Even my heart so occupied fails me.
Left only with silence I am.
A dew drop, a leaf…an intimate pair,
Never can mix, never separate.
Oh! How I wish I could embrace love,
Kiss the sanguiness in your cheek;
Hug the love you have for me;
Oh! Could I cup your beauty and kiss it!
Oh! A vague life…never satiated.
In quest of a treasure of emotions I was,
Uncontrolled consciousness I delved for.
The crystal beaded eyes,
Proffer entirety effortlessly.
Oh! Those captivating eyes…merciless bondage.
Breath of a life to be offered in a kiss…
Wait I shall…in hope, in love.
2/3/07- one of the poems that I like the most.
Soft, hollow whistles of the dark wind;
A trance filters through me.
A void I swim in…drawing a story everywhere;
All to evaporate in a trice…blinding even of the memories.
So tranquil, I float languidly…remote and pale.
A dripping dew drop wakes me;
The murmur of the hurrying brook.
The virgin landscape the golden ray’s parent;
My heart heaves along the tides…infinite colors they offer.
The brume holds the towering oaks apart.
A bleak spectacle. Salvation, the oaks plead for.
Sprites of the sun to free them,
An angel to free me.
The soft wave of the zephyrs; to the rhythm
The newborn leaves that dance.
The gentle sway of the veterans;
A song they sing to cheer life,
A heavenly flight of fantasy they offer…
Oh! For a moment I thought,
I was in love with life too.
Anger, hate and haste…how they were
Emotions my mind thought.
My heart never to sense, for it knows only you.
It knew only love…for it craves.
The bronze leaves that shiver under my feet,
The sharp severe cry reminds a fire.
The crackling mirage.
The chaste fire which digests the whole.
Its purity infallibly the prime.
My love to burn away the grief and limbo.
A cold fire, never to abate…tames death.
My love, the warmth it gives to my heart,
Against the coldest pain, against the blight rain.
You know not my love what keeps me alive?
The pale sky so in vain gathers strewn clouds.
My emotions I gather, an expression.
Alas! Only eternity amassed in silence…
In a tear.
Oh! The callous one dries, steals my love.
Trust I cannot anything…for they too fall in love with you.
Even my heart so occupied fails me.
Left only with silence I am.
A dew drop, a leaf…an intimate pair,
Never can mix, never separate.
Oh! How I wish I could embrace love,
Kiss the sanguiness in your cheek;
Hug the love you have for me;
Oh! Could I cup your beauty and kiss it!
Oh! A vague life…never satiated.
In quest of a treasure of emotions I was,
Uncontrolled consciousness I delved for.
The crystal beaded eyes,
Proffer entirety effortlessly.
Oh! Those captivating eyes…merciless bondage.
Breath of a life to be offered in a kiss…
Wait I shall…in hope, in love.
2/3/07- one of the poems that I like the most.
Revelations
Revelations
Twilight, not stolen by the absconding day;
Not a gift by the draping night.
An enchanted moment that falls;
I capture to relish…treasured to eternity.
The shower of the sparkles, the cold cloak romantize me.
A lonely tear slips by…unnoticed.
Love grows like an ivy, strangles and hugs.
A shivering leaf…beckoning despair.
The chant of the fords, an a capella
The deepest hum of the oceans;
The songs of the falling leaves, a melody.
The zephyrs adorned by her name;
A cadence of the throbbing heart,
All to recite the same note.
In it is the tune of life hidden. I am born.
A soothing hymn to pacify a whirling gale.
I watch the sun go down, my heart sinking.
The call of the nightingale cites you
Her glee, her trance stay me.
A humble curtsy she presents.
Her innocent eyes melt away my grief.
The reason for my lament she asks.
Her voice as intimate as yours
I acquiesce to render.
The memories I leafed through,
Told her how drowned I was in those mystical eyes.
I ask her ‘My heart wails so loud;
Yearning and imploring. Futile is it?’
A butterfly passes us, and then she says…
Look, her chrysalis…so restless a time for the nature.
The worlds beseeching her to come alive.
Her birth…spring delights the nature.
But my emotions for her…my life;
A brook neglected, never to pour.
A mystery if she were stoic or nonchalant.
Restless I get on this vagrancy.
A vagabond bared to a pauper.
A smile beams on her.
‘Your heart you laid out, it’s hers now.
Treat she shall by her will. That’s the beauty of love.’
But I have no worlds beyond her
Vulnerable, yielded I am.
A question I ask ‘How wait?’
Though she hasn’t any mercy, the agony she bestows.
I love her all my heart. My angel she is.
To become her angel I know not how.
She says ‘You ponder on the path;
Look who awaits at the destiny’
1/1/07
Twilight, not stolen by the absconding day;
Not a gift by the draping night.
An enchanted moment that falls;
I capture to relish…treasured to eternity.
The shower of the sparkles, the cold cloak romantize me.
A lonely tear slips by…unnoticed.
Love grows like an ivy, strangles and hugs.
A shivering leaf…beckoning despair.
The chant of the fords, an a capella
The deepest hum of the oceans;
The songs of the falling leaves, a melody.
The zephyrs adorned by her name;
A cadence of the throbbing heart,
All to recite the same note.
In it is the tune of life hidden. I am born.
A soothing hymn to pacify a whirling gale.
I watch the sun go down, my heart sinking.
The call of the nightingale cites you
Her glee, her trance stay me.
A humble curtsy she presents.
Her innocent eyes melt away my grief.
The reason for my lament she asks.
Her voice as intimate as yours
I acquiesce to render.
The memories I leafed through,
Told her how drowned I was in those mystical eyes.
I ask her ‘My heart wails so loud;
Yearning and imploring. Futile is it?’
A butterfly passes us, and then she says…
Look, her chrysalis…so restless a time for the nature.
The worlds beseeching her to come alive.
Her birth…spring delights the nature.
But my emotions for her…my life;
A brook neglected, never to pour.
A mystery if she were stoic or nonchalant.
Restless I get on this vagrancy.
A vagabond bared to a pauper.
A smile beams on her.
‘Your heart you laid out, it’s hers now.
Treat she shall by her will. That’s the beauty of love.’
But I have no worlds beyond her
Vulnerable, yielded I am.
A question I ask ‘How wait?’
Though she hasn’t any mercy, the agony she bestows.
I love her all my heart. My angel she is.
To become her angel I know not how.
She says ‘You ponder on the path;
Look who awaits at the destiny’
1/1/07
Frozen aeons
Frozen aeons
The dark night withdraws;
Rays of the sun, I twine
around myself…an embrace;
to flake my dead sorrow.
A drop of sun, a drop of the migrants;
I see not a difference.
Oh! The mantle of stone,
the innocent heart…a vault.
The heavens above sent a raindrop.
So chaste, not of the virgin universe.
Overwhelms beauty, sprinkles life;
To scatter my heart in love.
Nutriments of the soul merge;
Gifted with a life, gifted with her.
The universe ebbs away,
Her presence fills me with it.
Though my heart’s filled with thee,
I see not your footsteps by me.
This, a path to paradise.
Wait here I shall for eternity
22/10/06
The dark night withdraws;
Rays of the sun, I twine
around myself…an embrace;
to flake my dead sorrow.
A drop of sun, a drop of the migrants;
I see not a difference.
Oh! The mantle of stone,
the innocent heart…a vault.
The heavens above sent a raindrop.
So chaste, not of the virgin universe.
Overwhelms beauty, sprinkles life;
To scatter my heart in love.
Nutriments of the soul merge;
Gifted with a life, gifted with her.
The universe ebbs away,
Her presence fills me with it.
Though my heart’s filled with thee,
I see not your footsteps by me.
This, a path to paradise.
Wait here I shall for eternity
22/10/06
From the heart
From the heart
Described thy as seraphic I had;
Compared thy with god’s creations.
But now I see what a blunder it was;
For you define beauty, the world to follow.
The poems I write, my emotions;
Try so in vain to praise the beauty.
Oh lord! How could I ever imagine;
For no language to describe such beauty exists.
The ocean of words dry at this point.
I wonder how to describe you;
Lest it may not insult your beauty,
Be juxtaposed with anything human.
I have no kin of a path another
To tread upon to reach you, but silence.
For I convey through my heart;
But alas! Even it stops at your sight.
I know no other way to say this,
No expression, emotion to fill this void.
How can I stop loving you?
Oh! How can I tell you; I love you.
Wait I shall for ever
For this is a journey, a destiny.
Open your heart to these vistas,
This paradise called love…called us.
Described thy as seraphic I had;
Compared thy with god’s creations.
But now I see what a blunder it was;
For you define beauty, the world to follow.
The poems I write, my emotions;
Try so in vain to praise the beauty.
Oh lord! How could I ever imagine;
For no language to describe such beauty exists.
The ocean of words dry at this point.
I wonder how to describe you;
Lest it may not insult your beauty,
Be juxtaposed with anything human.
I have no kin of a path another
To tread upon to reach you, but silence.
For I convey through my heart;
But alas! Even it stops at your sight.
I know no other way to say this,
No expression, emotion to fill this void.
How can I stop loving you?
Oh! How can I tell you; I love you.
Wait I shall for ever
For this is a journey, a destiny.
Open your heart to these vistas,
This paradise called love…called us.
Dreams
Dreams
Ahoy! I set sail; enticed.
Mighty oceans are weaved.
The sails billow in awe; I see
The almost tangible neverland.
Clinging to an ethereal dream,
Clinging to a burning candle.
Evanescent? No, it’s a memory.
The fragile delight to my heart.
My companions, the moon flowers,
Oh! The nocturnal bliss shines.
For ages, waiting for their love,
Their hearts put forth.
My dreams blooms as flowers,
That I lay in your path.
Tread on them gently.
Bringing them to life.
The epitome of beauty,
Your indescribable charisma,
My dreams filled with thee,
The ornaments of the worlds I see.
Oh! The virulence of god,
I can sleep no more in peace.
All such beauty imposed in me,
Impalpable…mercy, mercy.
Ahoy! I set sail; enticed.
Mighty oceans are weaved.
The sails billow in awe; I see
The almost tangible neverland.
Clinging to an ethereal dream,
Clinging to a burning candle.
Evanescent? No, it’s a memory.
The fragile delight to my heart.
My companions, the moon flowers,
Oh! The nocturnal bliss shines.
For ages, waiting for their love,
Their hearts put forth.
My dreams blooms as flowers,
That I lay in your path.
Tread on them gently.
Bringing them to life.
The epitome of beauty,
Your indescribable charisma,
My dreams filled with thee,
The ornaments of the worlds I see.
Oh! The virulence of god,
I can sleep no more in peace.
All such beauty imposed in me,
Impalpable…mercy, mercy.
Can i ever miss you
Can I ever miss you?
What joy awaits the bloom!
Showering the elixir;
Warmth at its bosom.
Look at the beatific sun.
Oh! The rapturous night queen,
Kissed by the serenity of the cold night;
Its fragrance intoxicating.
The ardor yet so warm.
The glint in your eye,
My guiding star;
So rubicund, the tulips retreat.
Your smile in lieu of the morning sun.
A vagabond I build sandcastles,
Ignorant of the sea’s heart.
Ignorant of the seasons.
But strong stands my faith.
Just like a butterfly; natures beau;
I refrain from life for a while;
With thoughts of nothing but you;
Oh! The ineffable plight of missing you.
2/4/06
What joy awaits the bloom!
Showering the elixir;
Warmth at its bosom.
Look at the beatific sun.
Oh! The rapturous night queen,
Kissed by the serenity of the cold night;
Its fragrance intoxicating.
The ardor yet so warm.
The glint in your eye,
My guiding star;
So rubicund, the tulips retreat.
Your smile in lieu of the morning sun.
A vagabond I build sandcastles,
Ignorant of the sea’s heart.
Ignorant of the seasons.
But strong stands my faith.
Just like a butterfly; natures beau;
I refrain from life for a while;
With thoughts of nothing but you;
Oh! The ineffable plight of missing you.
2/4/06
Birthday poem
Birthday poem
Open your seraphic eyes,
Like the leaves reveal the jewels of dew.
Like the heavens give birth to the sparkling stars.
Look, the world so ecstatic for you.
A cradle of love,
Embellished by the firmaments;
Made by the fairies for you.
Rocked gently by the oceans.
The songs so euphoric,
Sail in the caressing breeze.
Listen to the intimate whispers,
The clandestine plans for celebrations
All your wishes and dreams,
Gods leave none unnoticed,
From the abyss of my heart,
I wish you a happy birthday
Open your seraphic eyes,
Like the leaves reveal the jewels of dew.
Like the heavens give birth to the sparkling stars.
Look, the world so ecstatic for you.
A cradle of love,
Embellished by the firmaments;
Made by the fairies for you.
Rocked gently by the oceans.
The songs so euphoric,
Sail in the caressing breeze.
Listen to the intimate whispers,
The clandestine plans for celebrations
All your wishes and dreams,
Gods leave none unnoticed,
From the abyss of my heart,
I wish you a happy birthday
A present
A present
Wandering through the straits at the shore,
The velvet drizzle dropping unfelt.
The world seems so bleak, so sere;
Nothing moulded of mirth.
The gods complain.
For I stole the beauty…safe in my heart.
The solace helps me glide, a trance touchable.
A finger I dip in the dark night sky,
A façade of satin so taut, glistens.
The essence I reject. A mere weave.
Your hair, dark magic.
Rude it’d be if I gifted them to you.
Wandering through the deserts
To find a golden gleam, a jewel to gift.
The sands spring an arcadia! Oh so frolic!
The world senses you in my heart,
My paradise, my vistas,
My love, all for you.
The tinge of a rose, a sinking sun;
I scoop the mantling in my cupped hands;
Ah! No worth…the bleak bauble.
Your rubicund visage, my dawn.
Wonder I, how god turned an artist.
His oeuvre made for me.
The ocean’s depths, the ruby’s heart
Bow in defeat. Your eyes so mystic outshine.
A gift I was looking for
The depths and grains, I delved all.
Alas! What can the worlds offer?
For they draw beauty from you.
A gift I thought to offer,
Nothing of this creation I can.
My devotion, my love for you
Is all I am left with. Me,
a pauper groping for life.
Groping for a path to your heart.
17/12/06
Wandering through the straits at the shore,
The velvet drizzle dropping unfelt.
The world seems so bleak, so sere;
Nothing moulded of mirth.
The gods complain.
For I stole the beauty…safe in my heart.
The solace helps me glide, a trance touchable.
A finger I dip in the dark night sky,
A façade of satin so taut, glistens.
The essence I reject. A mere weave.
Your hair, dark magic.
Rude it’d be if I gifted them to you.
Wandering through the deserts
To find a golden gleam, a jewel to gift.
The sands spring an arcadia! Oh so frolic!
The world senses you in my heart,
My paradise, my vistas,
My love, all for you.
The tinge of a rose, a sinking sun;
I scoop the mantling in my cupped hands;
Ah! No worth…the bleak bauble.
Your rubicund visage, my dawn.
Wonder I, how god turned an artist.
His oeuvre made for me.
The ocean’s depths, the ruby’s heart
Bow in defeat. Your eyes so mystic outshine.
A gift I was looking for
The depths and grains, I delved all.
Alas! What can the worlds offer?
For they draw beauty from you.
A gift I thought to offer,
Nothing of this creation I can.
My devotion, my love for you
Is all I am left with. Me,
a pauper groping for life.
Groping for a path to your heart.
17/12/06
A discovery called us
A discovery called us
The enigmatic silences, the intangible pleasures.
A million verses quoted so facilely.
The best conversations…all in silence.
The wondrous clouds,
that author such subtle rapture;
the heart of the skies it etches on…
the delight of their friendship…an ambrosia
Astounds that clouds revise and wander;
pass and melt, they ebb silently.
A molten heart in love,
recasts always in your name.
The delight it savors…inexplicable.
Pure love…untainted by thought,
a hug so warm that kisses me,
a moment that discards all reason.
The consummation of love in this bond.
The voids in communion ebb in peace.
The mirth of endearing; of such nobleness it is,
I forget who we are, only to remember that I love you
You in my life…the magnificence of;
Which you may never realize what it were.
Silence, I use a disguise to confess;
The surge of emotions as this,
pours out if given a chance.
To mould every moment…
a chance to love you.
The greatest treasure men died for;
an aegis, a canopy.
Nothing to subdue this I can envisage.
The culmination of love in every fleeting moment.
The blessing of friendship you offer.
The bond so deep in love, never can taint.
The imitating life, so onerous.
The burden of the word ‘I’
plight unthinkable of.
‘Us’ to canvas a paradise.
The birth of a smile was a joy called you.
18/6/07-
The enigmatic silences, the intangible pleasures.
A million verses quoted so facilely.
The best conversations…all in silence.
The wondrous clouds,
that author such subtle rapture;
the heart of the skies it etches on…
the delight of their friendship…an ambrosia
Astounds that clouds revise and wander;
pass and melt, they ebb silently.
A molten heart in love,
recasts always in your name.
The delight it savors…inexplicable.
Pure love…untainted by thought,
a hug so warm that kisses me,
a moment that discards all reason.
The consummation of love in this bond.
The voids in communion ebb in peace.
The mirth of endearing; of such nobleness it is,
I forget who we are, only to remember that I love you
You in my life…the magnificence of;
Which you may never realize what it were.
Silence, I use a disguise to confess;
The surge of emotions as this,
pours out if given a chance.
To mould every moment…
a chance to love you.
The greatest treasure men died for;
an aegis, a canopy.
Nothing to subdue this I can envisage.
The culmination of love in every fleeting moment.
The blessing of friendship you offer.
The bond so deep in love, never can taint.
The imitating life, so onerous.
The burden of the word ‘I’
plight unthinkable of.
‘Us’ to canvas a paradise.
The birth of a smile was a joy called you.
18/6/07-
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Well...had to start
Well, finally I had to bend forward from the sofa to reach my laptop…it has been 4 months that I worked that hard. Finally I decided to stuff something up the blog account I had created about 4 months ago. As usual, it was the fellow classmate’s blogging that made me feel inferior in some sort which forced me to enjoy (so I may claim for the satisfaction) this quite patronized hobby.
I tried to maintain a diary sometime in the first year of my engineering…I went too far I guess and wrote down all sorts of gobbledygook that seemed extremely disturbing even to me. Thus I resolved to the safest refuge of never letting the faux pas reach the fellow mortals and I tore and burned it like the average Indian who feeds the chaste fires with important papers for none may exploit the information it contains.
I wonder why the Indians are born with paranoia. Every Indian somehow with his intact intuition and infallible supernatural senses seems to know about the future and the zillion possible solutions to evade the most exacting of circumstances. The answer usually doesn’t deviate from the usual praying or sacrificing or tying a piece of ‘holy’ thread around whatever body part it may wound over or get some jewelry or donate money to the priests. Whatever may be the problem, however grave it might be, the usual thoughts about it are made to restrain in these possible parameters. Thus we live in India and hence we are used to it. What a life.
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