The story of the road

The advent of joy

2011-03-22T21:33:00.001-07:00

A pellucid drape of beauty and mirth,
the cadence of which allows thought;
that of the inornate waterfall…eternal;
a billowing verve, an aura embracing life.
I wonder how so the entirety drenches,
lost in your love so virgin…

The wishes you caress,
those set afloat by closed eyes and whispers,
bloom as our morning flowers…
a reason to behold the rapture.
The worlds decorate themselves thus,
an indulgence you jauntily offer.

The untold stories of happiness,
those melodies that teemed with love,
the clandestine plans for celebrations,
the festival of rapture.
A blessing as they say you are to the worlds,
an occasion rejoiced where we blend with bliss.

A dream’s expression....

2011-03-09T20:10:00.000-08:00

A dream’s expression

Embark it does, like a melody sung,

just from those sprightful verses.

Astounded how emotions weave a form,

a concert I see, verses that get composed.

Sublime they were, I am embraced.

Immortal dreams in love’s placenta.

Waking up, to be left amazed in mirth,

picture I, petals and butterflies, not verses.

So in bliss, purity of which enraptures.

Away though from that aria,

a blanket of dreams billows,

enwreathing and exalting cognition to love.

I wonder how every dawn is eager of,

if it were just the ballads,

rehearsals of whom culminate now.

The frenzy in the performance,

reflects the overwhelming desire to impress…

where love takes over, silencing the artless.

The happiness waiting

2011-02-22T11:49:00.000-08:00

The trance in a string of stars,

a scintillating pathway for wishes;

the teasing whispers and kisses,

soft blows of the breeze but lingers.

The heart pounding for the glimpse.

The moon, the cadence of,

Something said aloud, that was held back;

Spoken aloud a dream that was,

A vignette no more, but is life decorated with love.

Wishes whispered

2011-02-16T09:58:00.000-08:00

Like a foot that lingers in wet grass,

a hair strand a finger in concert with,

wary though of the uneasiness,

a momentary fetish takes over,

waiting for the stupor to fade.

A dark night’s rain I walk in,

unruly twitches of leaves,

the falling rain drops to tease;

the chilly breeze and scents linger,

fidgeting with the overflow of emotions.

A compulsion to hug someone,

some wishes that wish to be whispered,

I wallow in myself, in disconcert.

A frenzy hoping for harmony,

a frenzy in an embosom!

I accept

2011-02-15T08:04:00.000-08:00

I accept!

I didn’t like anyone talk about it, especially my mother or wife, but it had somehow become a part of my life by then. To sit in a prayer or to accept whatever bad happened to me as a punishment for something I might have done wrong sometime or to sleep in a proper position or respect some rituals. It was too deep around…it had to seep in.

But what can you do, it was a great boon to be born as a Brahmin in India and to live a life of one; you had to do what every other man did.

(Sheep).

I wanted to be radical and modern because I saw my friends turn atheists and they called it modern and hip. I wanted to be hip too. I did not you know, I did not…though I had the chance.

They told me that though some rites needn’t have any meaning or logic, since some of them did, we had to accept everything. I said ok…not feeling compelled to argue. I felt it was fair enough.

I thought I liked the prashad and the hymns…also the calm and soothing atmosphere of the temples. I accompanied my family on the trips to the temples. I used to even put on a tilak.

I did question about the rites when I got very angry, then things used to go bad, bringing me back to accepting it as a punishment for my blasphemy. It was blasphemy, wasn’t it?

I had to trust the lord in my hardships; I prayed to him and promised to break coconuts at his feet if my wishes were to be fulfilled or if I wanted something badly. (I am sorry that I used to forget his benevolence after it though). I used to pray saying “only this time lord, from next time, I will work on my own and make you proud…since they say God helps the one who helps himself.”

He listened.

I also let my wife teach my children about the rites, they weren’t allowed to ridicule them! How dare they!

You are listening, aren’t you?

You know, I even built my walls according to vaasthu. I hated the look on the pandit’s face when he accepted his ransom for his service. I didn’t hate a man of God you see, it was just his thoughts.

Yes, I used to smoke and drink, and sometimes have hash too…but you see, they were all the part of this God’s world isn’t it? And we have access to all of the parts. It was allowed.

Yes, I spat on my face in the mirror when I failed, I shouted and spited the lord, but as his children, we can express our feelings can’t we?

The logs are placed, with dung cakes. Somebody circles around them. Some hymns, some sob.

I..I…err...I am a good man; I made some mistakes, but who doesn’t? Eh? I am a man of God; I just proved it to you…didn’t I…

I can’t be free if you don’t nod…please oh please!

I agree they made me so scared now, but I am scared and that is not a good thing! I am suddenly trusting their gobbledygook…but I do trust it don’t I? Don’t abandon me…please!

See, it is so much a part of my system now that I can only think about that now!

Oh! I told you the truth, I hate it, but I accepted it…that takes a lot of will power! Please… please!

Fire is lit. Some wail there…someone wails.

He tried hard to make up.

THE SCULPTED IVY

2011-01-17T10:32:00.001-08:00

The mizzle feels so laden of gloom,
a faint scented odour makes an overture.
The waves in vain loom, crumble so in practice.
The curlicue in style, an ephemeral beauty repeats aeons.
Hue in violets, early dawn sheens the froth.
The restive rustles on the shore, the trees
warn me of the dormant hiss of the waves;
yet the stretched arms of the sea tempts an embrace.
The husky whispers that cadence and fall,
sibilance’s calm.
All emotions that refuge in its bosom,
sowed deep in the sands.
Maybe, my love doesn’t reach the shores...
stewing in despair, it chants your name.

I allege the morning sun beautiful,
the shades of the verdure basking in sun, I swim in;
a walk in the cascade of the autumn leaves.
The rote of the worlds yet make me jaded,
the way I eye them changed.
So lost in you, I see nothing.
A man in love, is a poet,
he waits in limbo,
for eternity,
for love.

Hope i had, heartened by love...
surprising so little of it in reserve;
my poems lose vigor, doubt their potency.
Emotions i called them, shallow they seem to you.
I write to escape the fear of your unconcern.
Fate snatches hope like a wind, leaving me in awe.
A word never to convince a heart, to justify what’s love.

A reason something demands,
I haven't any to convince.
A purpose so bleak to wish, to expect your love.
The destiny I chose, a road to perdition.
A heavy heart lightened by tears,
pity.
Belief sprouts that i suffer, faraway.
Juxtaposing mirth and suffering, so alike.
Nothing worth perception,
so filled by you.

A reason for a feeling;
outcome of it, you daren't ask my love!
Not for a purpose, not for a reason we love,
a silent wish that the lips audaciously whisper,
a wish to be loved.

Every minute repeats itself,
every minute I sink deeper.
Craving for your embrace.

The gusts of the wind push me further;
a burden to get rid of.
The gulls sneer; undesired me.
The retreat so heavy; oh the pain the word proffers!
Every move enervates,
yet i gulp my fate,
so in vain, my heart sang.

How I love you, I reveal in my writ;
the thoughts of loneliness simmer.
Perfection to reveal emotions,
none has attained.
Oh how desolate a revelation seems!
The wishes, the desire to expect,
culminate at this point.
Sigh! The seas' madness to express,
reciting for aeons, none to pay heed.
Faith in love, so lost.

The art by ecstasy

2010-12-21T13:01:00.000-08:00

With squeals as of a baby eager,

I startle myself when I labour to sleep.

For every major heart throb, a squeal to express delight.

A dream I wished for, hopes to calm.

The stirred state I wake to,

amazes the overwhelming ardour.

I grope for something tangible to dip into,

beguiled by these luring emotions.

A delirium to soak up in this bliss,

a wish for a moment to bemuse this frenzy,

to neglect these groping senses,

to let myself feel the immortal gasp of emotion so vivid.

The restlessness never to be satiated,

an imprudent nirvana I created,

where I cannot enact my happiness;

where exists, an unfading desire for love.

17 aug, 2010

The appearance of a wish

2010-12-21T12:59:00.000-08:00

You can hear an imagination, feel a panorama shift…

The beauty of subtleties creating the grandeur,

Wafting temperaments skimming in delight

A smile that springs in pleasure negotiates the spectator to satisfaction.

The stage removed, emotions settling…

The fledgling sentiments take place in aspiration.

The performers eager for another round of hearts in rapture…

Wishing things were as in fairytales,

lost and reminiscing, the audience left to linger in their lives.

The untold and the splendorous stories saunter to tease,

the hearts that paid witness to this illustration of passion…

The intimacy of the emotions gives birth to ones that surprise in mystery.

The spectacle of ardor and coherence taking form.

Ah! The vignettes they create …

Tears in the eyes, rustles of trees and the pounding heart…

If only every performance should embrace the fervor,

Wouldn’t I be tireless in the recital of wishing you, till it be called so;

that they be etched and rise up that passion in every breath released.

26 april, 2010

The bloom of an angel

2008-04-27T14:40:00.000-07:00

This is the poem I wrote for her birthday...

The bloom of an angel

The early morning rain that embraced,
exalted me to witness, the sun that shone…
above the peach basked clouds.
An expression unknown billowed,
I laughed at what they exclaimed as beauty.
Your rubicund countenance I perceive,
to leave the nature disgraced.

A wish I made to behold,
what made the veil of dawn so enticing.
Beauty that impregnated radiance.
Life, that my dreams craved for,
a sight of you…
Beauty that can’t be left hidden or unseen,
let death encompass me…
if the futile worlds aren’t overwhelmed.

The innocence in life,
the fragrance. The brilliance…
that took form this day.

I beseech the moon drenched silver,
to have patience,
for it may see your blooming eyes.
I beseech the nightqueen,
to embody the rapture of your fragrance.

I demand the gods.
why the penury of the blessing…
to witness the spring of beauty.
Whatever the life may now offer…
the distress still lingers.

I wish to go back in time,
to erase the plight…
to sight the birth of exquisiteness;
the birth of the seraph, that built a reason for my dreams.

26/4/08

The videos

2008-04-07T02:56:00.000-07:00

the following are some vids of mine.
the first 2 are of the 'kokkoroko gomango' fame...the troupe as we call it. the performances were at Razzmatazz and Valentines day at NIT-C
the rest are 2 stupid vids i made myself long long ago in my room

2008-04-04T12:20:00.001-07:00

2008-04-04T12:19:00.002-07:00

2008-04-04T12:19:00.001-07:00

Muteness and cuteness

2008-04-03T09:32:00.000-07:00

Muteness and cuteness:

Whoever brought into existence the concept of ‘cute’ or ‘kyooooot’ things didn’t realize he had just invented the biggest implosion artillery in the world. The way these girls who try to be cute have created a cult of their own, which has the following commandments to be practiced:

Eat like a bunny: the food eaten must be of bright colors and drinks should be health conscious ones.

They don’t eat to satisfy their hunger, but rather mince at every bit and drink in sips in public. Mouth shouldn’t be opened wide in any circumstances, in either talking or eating.

In case they eat with the spoons, spoon should contain only a ¼ fill. They chew more than required like a cow that tries to look intelligent while ruminating. They follow the rule of ‘thoda khao, thoda pheko’ to show that they eat less, which we suppose to be the secret of the figure, which is the most important investment in life they make to attract the idiots.

Pouting: Well, sb said, if you don’t understand what the person oppo is saying to you, smile to show your agreement. These cuties take that to another level, where pouting seems to remind them of a rose (the assumptions that the empty head makes) and is followed by a smile that makes the desperate drool. This is the most commonly used trait which never seemed to fail over the years, and these cuties get pro at it every time.

Pouting is used best when the girl shows resentment over sthg u’ve done, and the expressions dons the look of a pug that had just found you not rubbing on its back.

Acting dumb: This is the easiest of the commandments, where they are of their true selves. The lady makes you thus talk more to her saying she hasn’t understood what u said previously and thus keeps your attention to herself. Once, she’s got the attention, she’d smile and pout at the end of every sentence you say, even if that never made sense or you were just playing mute by moving your lips. She’d never take her eyes off you to make you feel uncomfortable till the dumbass at the back of your head says ‘she’s attracted to you, what if we could make out!’ She’s been successful at the process when she switches you on.

They wear this blank expression at every thing you say, for we know, smart ppl respond…and their sole intention here is to resemble a teddy bear, and thus make themselves presentable in a huggable, cuter manner. Whoever made the first teddy…$%*%&%($@ !!!

Talking or acting kiddo: This itch-in-the-undie kind of an act involves their talking like a 4 yr old, swallowing syllables and stressing statements. Some common phrases are: ‘choo chweet, ohhh luuuvvvlee, ohh that’s nicee. The trick is to never offend you, thus all they make are positive statements.

Using ‘ma for my’, momma for mummy and the ever used ‘thinkin, doin, sleepin etc, where they found the ‘g’ at the end too middle class.

Bloody @$%#*$.

The worst may be the expressions of vociferation. They go like ‘oh’ and keep their mouths open for a whole century to even let the flies over their mouths get confused if that thing open was a mouth or a sewer hole. The same goes with ‘ah’, ‘oo’, ‘aahaa’ etc. The most irritating part that creates the biggest implosion in your stomach and gives rumbles in it, enough to make you get the feeling that ‘maybe Nagasaki was a woman, and they did the rite thing nuking the b*%$%’ is the whining part. They whine like those dogs that have both piles and loose motions at the same time. The sound pierces you, makes your belly button vibrate and tickle from the inside.

Blinking: This asinine act came into existence after the animation industry started; the way the eyebrow’s of snow-white fluttered made these ‘snow-job donkey eyes’ imitate that. The bland smile and the fluttering ‘beauty parlor’ eyelids’ fluttering makes it seem like a mule flirting with you.

Movements: These beaut’s move like they belong to a different space time universe where everything is in a slow motion giving enough time to take care of all the things that weigh how they look, like dressing their hair or sitting carefully as if there was a mine underneath or talking as we were alien to the language they speak. The most irritating is the wrist movements they make, trying to imitate grace of the dancers…and the walk called the ‘cat walk’ as if a drunkard was tested to walk on a straight line. They seem to have no rush at all and were relaxed and pro at everything…no rush even when they’ve loose motions. They make it a point to clean the spot over which they sit, like they were born laminated and a speck of dust may ruin their appearance of a fairy.

The rest of the cuteness is derived from owing pink teddies or attaching soft toys or huge baubles to their key chains and bags or examining every leaf or flower like they were suddenly smitten by the complexities of the nature.

So, I guess…girls make a datum of cuteness by the teddies they own or watching animated movies where they make the heroine is made beautiful to sell. The dumb muteness, the blinking and the sniggering and excessive touching you and bending add the icing. The whole point I guess is to make a statement that ‘Even I exist, so you better look at me’.

This is not the case with a select number of dim wits, but every girl does this, knowingly or unknowingly. They would never try to lose a chance to impress you. So, the next time you are sitting with a girl, try to point out these harebrained acts and laugh your ass off.

God have mercy on these fragile china glass beauts’s that were given the brains of the size of an almond, only because they could never handle more load in the skull.

Hope soap

2008-03-14T01:57:00.000-07:00

Hope soap

There may be only one question in the world that hits you like a bullet, piques you to the unimaginable core and brings in a wave of self consciousness and inferiority complex.

It is “have you taken your bath today?”

The answer as we all know, for we have all undergone this twinge of remorse, is an all time “yes”, no matter even if you were stinking like the fart of a sloth and were the bag of disgust.

It is gloriously remarkable how a human being still attempts to make up and convince the meddlesome sniffing human dogs.

I find it hard to accept the fact that the guys (mostly) still stretch out on the faces of others standing by knowing that they are stinking. The sight of it even makes me pass out in a second. Living in Calicut for the past 4 years, I have seen what may be called the heights of sweating. It is hot as a furnace and humid as a water body itself. Still, people don’t realize that they are actually aggravating the already shit hole situation by not taking baths and sticking (literally) to each other as creepers that were supposedly bond on the spiritual bonds of natural glue. It has created such a situation here that; the human touch is difficult, which is the most essential for us gregarious beings.

But some times, the answer can swerve to an honest “yes, I haven’t had a bath” in cases with girls. I wonder if they take pride in the self assumed fact that they were fairies of some kind, and being fair in skin like a huge albino spot covering the whole body assume that they still look beautiful or atleast presentable in the gravest situation of not having had a bath for 2-3 days. The point they obviously want to emphasize is that even though they haven’t had a bath, their face looks gleaming as ever and that no stink to kill mice is emanated. Well ladies, its become certified now that we cant dare to sniff anywhere around you. Well, taking a bath might be a long shot in some cases, the non benevolent manage to exist in this shit hole without even washing their faces in the morning when they come to the classes. Whoever directed the movie ‘scent of a woman’ may have to re-think what he/she did.

The guys are not behind, well, they do make it a point to atleast wash their faces when they go out of their dwellings, but the patched faces (in dry climate) and wet stiff hair at ends near the face make it very obvious that they haven’t faced the most difficult part of the day of taking a bath. But atleast, since guys are always after girls and they wouldn’t lose a chance to hit on them, however big a stud he may be, he would be kind enough to use extra deo or cheap perfumes to make it up.

However, it would be grossly irritating to go to work with sticky armpits being lubricated partially with talcum powder or sweat and half wet hair. The legacy of using worn underwear’s by the macho guys just adds more to the scratching part. I know of guys who were better in such cases, and never wore underwear when they dint find it clean and could still manage to go on for weeks in such ‘tickling and touchy’ situations.

Well people, I know that you have done everything that I wrote here, so have I, now lets be honest with each other and be generous enough to care for the fellow mortals and atleast not irk them with our stink.

Things to be done:

Buy some soap, don’t share them and try to wipe yourselves with some clean towel.
Please don’t wear those armless tee’s or banians on the road. It could be the next biological catastrophe.
Buy some deo’s or we shall try and convince the government to supply them free in coastal regions.
Don’t stretch in public
Don’t think that I did all that I wrote here, its like blaming a salamander for its wetness.

satin pearls

2008-02-04T02:00:00.000-08:00

Satin pearls

A drop of color that falls by chance,

blooming in water, the vigor and grace.

A trice of beauty reaches an impression;

elegance of the quillwort, silent waltz.

Silver eyes that pierce;

skin, chaste and pale as white fire…

hair, disheveled in frolic,

her heart, ever stayed in trance.

The white satin fairy that dances!

there, a descending angel!

Pellucid gossamer that drapes,

escatsy and charisma that font,

hair, never in reign, breezy…

shadows of the sprites set buoyant.

The shy smile,

like spring holding back…

sweet, tangible flow of white.

Who she was I wonder,

wonder what spell she cast;

The pristine white satin…

a gauze of snow.

Her frailty, posture…

enigma that lingers.

Evanescence of the nymph…

seizes the whirling heart!

-4/2/08

The blessing called a sister

2008-01-17T11:23:00.000-08:00

The blessing called a sister

The brewing silence,

The wearing darkness that seemed fate;

Secluded I was in a corner helpless,

hysteric fits I gulped down.

Like a shivering leaf in snow…

never did I endeavor to open my eyes,

desolation that broke my soul…

A startling hug that made me tremble,

Warmth I never knew of…

an embrace that helped me breathe,

the solace of love.

My broken soul you restored,

patiently and caringly…

Emotions I breathe in,

The soul of mine, the heavens sent…

the vignette of which your love gave form.

The delicateness of the nature,

how the petals uncovered!

On a fabric of life, though sewn apart,

a bond unknown built,

the common thread that’s never to break,

nothing of the worlds to part us.

The purity in your love,

exalted to the heavens my soul…

Magical devotion you offer.

The embrace that equals,

that of a mother’s bosom…

Inspiring my wearied spirit,

You show me the beauty in life.

You cup your hands for my tears,

You hear my prayers whispered.

You hold me through the path,

witnessing my subtle expressions.

How u read me, transparent my soul for you.

Teaching me how to live,

you help me in the pursuit of a smile…

sacrificing yours.

The worlds when left me,

You stand at the end of the tunnel,

a smile to warm my heart,

a hug to restore life.

Your arms ever stretched…

taking my despair as yours.

I pray the lord,

There mayn’t be a moment where,

I could be helpless not to deliver your wish,

or to not offer my life for yours.

Never can I part from you dear,

Never can I see a tear…

Naïve I may be,

I cannot express how I love you.

Never can I dare to open to you…

I fear a tear of love…

sight of which would shatter me.

Hope I shall to learn the art of love,

Wish I make, to live for you.

17/1/08

Snigger trigger

2007-12-28T08:56:00.000-08:00

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.

Nailed!!!!

2007-12-27T00:50:00.000-08:00

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.

Boundaries

2007-12-26T07:31:00.000-08:00

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

Triumph of chemistry

2007-12-24T13:20:00.001-08:00

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

Thoughtless love

2007-12-24T13:19:00.004-08:00

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 melting azure

2007-12-24T13:19:00.001-08:00

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

The confluence

2007-12-24T13:18:00.003-08:00

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.

Stranger in the woods

2007-12-24T13:18:00.001-08:00

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.

Revelations

2007-12-24T13:17:00.001-08:00

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

Frozen aeons

2007-12-24T13:16:00.004-08:00

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

From the heart

2007-12-24T13:16:00.003-08:00

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.

Dreams

2007-12-24T13:16:00.001-08:00

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.

Can i ever miss you

2007-12-24T13:15:00.002-08:00

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

Birthday poem

2007-12-24T13:15:00.001-08:00

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

A present

2007-12-24T13:14:00.002-08:00

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

A discovery called us

2007-12-24T12:41:00.000-08:00

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-

Well...had to start

2007-12-12T09:23:00.000-08:00

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.