Insane or Inane'

For how many times it has so happened, that I have no ideas and this is the worst phase, but than suddenly I see something and I decide to voice out, today, like all other times, it so happened. I was having my dinner, nothing special about it until the guy switched on to ‘Indian Idol’, this particular episode was staged in Lucknow. I have a special affinity for Lucknow and its people, this is because I have spent three glorious years of my life there.

After living in a city, from where you have done your college it is bound that you will know more about the city than the subjects you were taught and so has been the case with me. I will not say that I am quite familiar with every nook and corner of the city, but yes I have a fair view of the city and the people, not digressing from the main topic, I saw how the crowd in Lucknow swayed for those three good men, who sang songs, which are already well sung by others. I have nothing against them or the channel but I was anguished how westernized the people of my city has gone, I don’t know whether that mass which I saw on the show truly represent Lucknow, I hate to believe or admit that. Girls were swaying their arms and screaming out their lungs as if riding a wave of orgasm, boys waving frantically like if this is the only night, even some aunties and uncles were seen in these, if I may call obscene posture, joining this bandwagon of insanity, as if breaking their monotonous life cycle.

I don’t know, whether they all were just aping what they see in television or it was something coming from inside, I know my Lucknowallas real well, they brag a lot, they may be boisterous, they may spit pan and talk of politics all the time but they are not what it was shown on television, this picture repulsed me. I am used to all of that but not this. I don’t want Lucknow to become Mumbai, Pune or Bangalore just like, in spite of so called bureaucracy in Delhi, I love it.
The question that made me sits up and write is, why all of our cities are loosing their identities, if this is globalization I don’t want it.
I want Lucknow to remain Lucknow, where at a tea stall I can still hear the mixture of various eastern accent, people calling me Bhaiyya and everything so disarranged yet calm and serene. Lucknow where maxi cabs with yellow, green and blue stripes run, Lucknow where there is a bar shop next to KD Babu Singh stadium, Lucknow where Hazratganj was the epitome of urbanization, Lucknow where Tunde kebabs are still famous, Lucknow where from Aliganj to Kapurthala I walked, innumerable times just for tea and a net cafe, Lucknow where my youth rest in peace.

I am having a bad time at the Zoo, they are trying to teach me that which I don’t want to be taught about. The other inmates of zoo are performing real good, partly because of their background and mostly because they are putting in their best, even I am trying to put up a fight but than I already know the result so, I have pasted a silent smile on my lips, a smile which is sarcastic, a smile that doesn’t allow anyone to breach my privacy. There is a lot which can be said about my days at zoo, but I am restraining myself, why I don’t know, the tag of Unsuccessfulness’ is hard to be removed, especially when your soul has already submitted to the fact but than I am game, coz I am enjoying this.


Now since I have vented my anger, again I have lost my thoughts, I don’t know for how long this slumber will continue, am I Insane or just Inane or is there a difference between the two, who knows….

“Girte hain shah-sawar hi, Maidan-e-zang mein; Wo tifl kya girega, Jo ghutnon ke bal chale”

The Zoo....

I don’t know how to dish out this particular piece, more because I am not able to format it. Things have considerably changed yet it is mundane. All these years lack of excitement has so become a part of my life, that if anything changes I look at it with skepticism and thus more or less it turns out or I unknowingly make it dreary.

Anyhow I have been admitted to the Zoo, where besides me we have 23 more inmates, the only thing we share is the same “Specie”, so no alien war is projected in near future and since as of now the struggle for survival is unannounced, so it’s a phony bonhomie feeling among all residents.

I have unsuccessfully tried not to be a sore thumb till now, yet there is a sense of cynicism creeping in, now I have no answer to, Why it so?
The ring masters are singing some absurd tunes which I am unable to comprehend but than my experience of surviving in inhospitable conditions is coming handy, believe me physical death must not be so painful as a slow mental death is!

The choice of coming in this Zoo, was a forced personal choice, forced because of circumstances, personal because I made those circumstances, sometimes I feel that more or less its divine intervention and than try not to think about it. How unknowingly we can be chess pieces in the game of Gods (if any), it gives me some excitement to think that I am a pawn or rook of some God/Goddess chess player, who would be placing his hopes on me, making sure I make the right moves or rather he/she makes, so taking the burden off my shoulders.

The other inhabitants are much better than me, some with better claws, shining furs or a better genetic background and me, perhaps the last caged animal, which people forget to see or deliberately miss as they are already tired. Who live anonymously and perhaps die so, again the physical disintegration would be much welcomed than painful existence!

Now since I am the Zoo and I have to perform, so learning the antics is must, I don’t know if I will be successful and this time unsuccessfulness would mean that I would be thrown to the natural world, where existence is under constant threat. Now since I have nothing to show, the only way to catch attention is either be meek, which unfortunately I am not or to growl for no reason, now all we have to see whether it comes out as lion’s growl or a choked bark! Will keep posting about my adventures at this cultured Zoo…


P.S.- After effect of reading the “Life of Pi”, an awesome book.

Spastic Thoughts'

These days like always are monotonous and filled with unexpected frustration, sometimes it makes me feel that the umbilical cord that distinguishes between non-existence and realism is yet to be separated for me.
Anyhow, the recent week just walked in the same old fashion and except some small exceptions and there is nothing to pride on. Newspapers have suddenly started boring me and there is not much choice of entertainment available, when you are at a place where all civil service aspirants reside. Also Z is in Jammu, so my nocturnal outings to Nizzamudduin have stopped and I am forced to enjoy solitude.

Since I have nothing to write in particular, I perhaps will express upon the favorite topics among all blogs, ranging from Bush to Jessica.

Well first of all, I am quite enraged over the so called “Left”, I do not have any personal grievances with Yechury&Karat co. but than I am amazed with the type of principles they are patronizing. I wonder if ideologies are based on person or people are based on ideologies, all of a sudden Left has taken up the task to criticize everything American and involve in a pseudo-secularism i.e. everything that is associated with Hinduism becomes jingoism.
They scream our their lungs for Iran and for the South American countries, but what these countries have done for us, has Iran backed India in any major world forum except a small exception here and there or what the South American countries have done for us and when this a unipolar world, than why should we sing the deeds of countries who have done us no good rather than to align our interest with the superpower without compromising our sovereignty.

Left’ opposes RSS and allies, though I too do not agree to their outlook but than shouldn’t Left if an ideology, should also raise voice against the fanatic Muslims, who are asking head of Danish editor. I do not understand when the people of India die at the hands of their own police in clashes in Lucknow, Hyderabad, Bombay for something that happened seven seas far. Left kept mum when M.F. Hussain painted Saraswati nude and criticized the vandalization by Bajrang Dal but they were upbeat about the cartoons, which had no direct relations to our country!

Bush, I don’t care what he do until any of his decision affect my country, I am for Iraqis but they were already in a mess, I am with Cubans, Venezuela and so but aren’t they smart enough to sell their oil and keep things at bay. Bush may be opposed by his own country men but he is at helm, they voted him back why should I call him a barbarian, he didn’t killed my own people, my countrymen, my army is not fighting war against terror.

Jessica died and than she died……..she was serving liquor and than someone shot him, some one who was under dual effect of liquor and power, and than he was acquitted, they took out march against it, she died serving liquor, did they also took out march against the 11 year old girl who was raped and killed or about the adivasis, but than they don’t die serving liquor, perhaps that is what is required for a march on your death or for case to be opened again.

In my view India TV should be banned, they are trying to make money by cashing on our sentiments, come on…..Do Mahatma Gandhi live in Rajghat, or if dogs were there where his ashes lay, it became impure? Please Mahatma Gandhi more than a person is an ideology which do not gets diminished by such small things!!!

At last, sometime back I vowed I will not speak on ‘T’……..met her at the new office, she was more captivating…..like as always, she smiled, I frozed, we shook hands, formally and than she moved, leaving me behind once again Unsuccessful’

Jannat'

This story came out of frustration at recent happenings, may be I am too naive for this type of art but than its my last attempt I believe at story writing.


"Agar zameen pe jannat hai, to wo yahin hai, yahin hai, yahin hai "


"Altaf", that is how, he was known to the world. Name sometimes echoes more than what they are meant for, though their intrinsic value lies in your existence, they somehow dominate your existence and in turn you start rallying around them and this is what Altaf was to be revealed about.

Altaf was neither young nor old, now this can be supplemented with the fact, that he already had 03 kids and the fourth was on its way. Zeinab, Altaf's better half till now had been quite a dutiful wife to him. She had without any much pains bore him three children, was used to his antics, though recently she had been vociferous on the weekly thrashing melted out to her but than with times, some changes are acceptable.

Anyways, the protagonist of our story Altaf, a rickshaw puller by profession was a Kashmiri migrant. He was trying to build a future in the northern India Silicon Valley, Gurgaon in times which are not troubled yet turbulent.
Though Altaf was quite practical, day dreaming was all what he had inherited, the memory of sipping kava on his grandpa's shikara was still afresh in his mind. Like the daily namaz he used to narrate those incidents to his children, who the apostle of poverty were delighted by this only means of entertainment. Zeinab who perhaps had listened more of this than her children, still use to relish it, silently praying each time that may this dream come true.

The whole family sincerely believed that one day they will be back, back to where they belong and get what they so deserved. Altaf always rued on the word azadi, for him it meant only poverty, displacement. He always cursed this place, this is not our home, this is not Jannat, we will surely go back.
Poverty is not the breeding ground for big dreams, only small hopes lights the house of one. So was with this family of 05, which was soon to be of 06. They never aspired for HIS's "Jannat", they just longed for their "Jannat".

Altaf's slum was partitoned, with the future of India by a barbed fence, it was a sincere attempt to hide the barrenness of India. Gurgaon is a classic example, behind every big shopping mall, there are Wal-Marts of depriviation and poverty. It was in this setting, Altaf, the rickshaw puller whose rented rickshaw was adorned with sketches of Hindu gods was trying to build up a future. Altaf was quite aware that even if he works day and night, utmost he will manage new clothes for Eid, may be not, the sixth one was on his/her way!

Business was good these days, he was telling Zeinab about it, malls were overflowed with streams of people. Sometimes he wondered from where all this money comes. Zeinab as like always consoled herself by consoling him "We don't require that all, you see" and than they laughed to melt in each other arms.
Sex is not entertainment in poverty, it's a need, a momentarily heaven, a short nirvana, kids come as enlightenment.

Today, Altaf was not intrested in paddling any more human weight, he was thinking about returning home. He was the only left at the stand, his co-workers had retired for the day, night had already dawned and the big malls were winding up, people returning back to their cozy homes. The air was surcharged with excitement, which suddenly bamboozled into chaos, a cry in bewilderement confirmed it as riots.
Altaf asked the running guard- "What happened?"

Riots, they are killing Muslims

Altaf was stunned. He started paddling hard towards his home, he could not abandon the rickshaw, it will cost him more than his spared life.
Even an illiterate could now be explained "Doppler Effect" and he would remember it all his life, Altaf was too trying to run away from his death. As he took the turn, he saw a mob, to return back would have been fatal. His blood freezed. They encircled him, tilak on foreheads and red blood on hands.

"-Kya Naam hai tera?"

"Al..

"-Abe bolega"....a slap which made his face coloured.

"-Utaro iske kapde"

"-Abe, Hindu hai, yeh dekho"....some one pointed at the sketched Gods on his rickshaw.

"-Chal bhag" the mob laughed, perhaps the first time today

He started to move.

"-Ruk, terko pata hai, ham kyon mar rahe hein, salle musallman gin (numbering) rahe hein, ham ginne ke liye kuch nahi chodenge."(We will leave none to get numbered)

---They moved, leaving Altaf drenched in his sweat---

Altaf was now weeping, life was back, from no where. He looked at the sky up and than at the gods sketched back. Ganesha was smiling and the sky was clear. He Was Not Counted Today and they were unsuccessfull in each and every sense, were they?


Zeinab was at the outskirt of the slum, all the women there were on the brink, and each eye gleamed when it saw its own blood.

That night when in his home secure, his kid cuddled next to him Altaf mumbled "Agar zameen pe jannat hai, to wo yahin hai, yahin hai, yahin hai"

Nemesis'

Sab kuch keh chuka hoon
ya kuch kehna nahi chahta,
Zindagi ki door tooti se
ya use pakadna nahi chahta,
Shor hai charon taraf kyon
ya mein kuch samazhna nahi chahta,
Har saans kehti hai ki zinda hoon
par dil dhakdna nahi chahta,
Ulazhta uderh-bun me mein kyon?
ya sulazhna nahi chahta,
Asafal hoon mein aaj phir
ya Woh kismat badlna nahi chahta.


I have nothing much to say, except like always I am confused rather too confused and when you are unsuccessful, frustration tags along…….at 24 yrs one cannot take much chances or my dream of being “Urban Nomad” is coming too real, of which I am scared now…whatever, I am trying to write something…I don’t know what but like Jedi’ said, everything should have a title, so this time title will be “Jannat”…..but one of Lash’ post on christening makes me wonder on worth of it and than on top

“What’s in the name?” - Shakespeare…..now isn’t the name worth….once again confused and than agonized to be frustrated.

Dying, Death and Resurrection

I am not posting....may be for long I wont, my fellow bloggers have taken vow of silence or as Lash said realize blogging is too trivial a shit to be smelt!. I wont agree, may be I will post after few days....lot is left here and for me blogging is not just what I like to do, its to vent my frustrations, etching my Unsuccessfulness’……in the best way I can……Illuzn has long gone, DD left, Lash wrote himself a obituary…but than Jedi is there, Nut-Khat still shimmers, Nishu Sir and Gem-Gurl….the young guns still blazing…….may be we all need to redeem, somehow and than may be an another unsuccessful saga…… (I am not emotional….its what I feel) and than……….

For I know that my Redeemer lives, and He shall stand at last on the earth. After my skin is destroyed, this I know -- that in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another. How my heart yearns within me! Job 19.25-27



For the trumpet will sound!
The dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed!
For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable,
and the mortal with immortality…….and thus I wait, I do wait…….

Prsioner of past'

To write something without any inspiration is real tough and this is what I am going through. I do not have anything commendable to write upon and henceforth I have been refraining myself to put up a post.

adopt your own virtual pet!

Over the past few weeks I have done nothing good, except submitted to daily routine, that involves going to office and coming back and somewhere down the line once again I am being used to the way of life without making any room for improvement. I hate to do this but I am marred by my own shortcomings.

Anyhow, the past few weeks involved watching Rang De Basanti (a movie in a hall after 02 years, with a gal...nt tht bad i will say), a trip to Delhi’s book fair where I met Chetan Bhagat (author, 5 point someone, One night@ call centre), buying some books and gave an exam which like always was a dud affair. Today Z is coming, his exams are over so perhaps will tour a bar and muse upon life and its prodigies over a glass of alcohol!

Before writing this post I was wondering that we all are (correct me, if I am wrong)….Prisoners of our past, here in I am not talking about individuals only but nations as well, however hard we try, the past comes haunting and our future is determined by the events of our past, now how to change it or make new directions, I don’t know nor I have any will left to do so, unsuccessfulness has somehow crept slowly but strongly in my life and my past and future has got entangled in its web, though I am still holding the ray of hope, which I count upon whenever I see any mail van or crematorium bus…..sounds silly! But than all the people I meet and who are related to me in one way or the another seem to be affected by this, may be it P, my office colleague or my Mom, be it N at IMA or Z at his MBA…..or D doing nothing at all.....somehow, somewhere they all are fighting to achieve freedom, but from whom…may be from oneself!

One thing that has changed is weather and it has livened up my lost spirits, now weather is something I am deeply attached to not only physically but emotionally as well, with sun shining a bit harder, and the air missing the nip, I feel that heaven is back. Winters are so dampening that they crush whatever soul you have left, may be as it gets warmer I become more active and start afresh, till than I am a prisoner of my past, now at this am I successful or unsuccessful……

P.S - try playing with "hobbes"....by moving the mouse, its funny!

End of days.......

For all these days there is nothing to add on, my job is sort of jeopardize (more because I don’t want to work), like as always I am confused, I don’t know but except for the sake of living I have no reason to live, perhaps some responsibilities….whatever. Not that I am afraid, never, coz I have nothing to loose and I have relinquished the word success.

May be as the snow melts up there, the river of my life will flow with full throttle, till than a unsuccessful hibernation……..

A demon that struck me all times
I don’t know how he survives,
This is not going good
I can feel its venom filled hood,
Jealousy I cant describe
its not in my blood, I don’t lie,
I am not like this, I say
this is not my type of relay,
I just don’t know how to fight
is it arms or about the right?
It always wins and never loose
may be fucking fixed rule!
I don’t know how to end this deal
help me or you are also one in the meal!!

Creative Impotency'

Before I start this, I am agreeing this is a result of creative impotence, which I am facing, I squarely blame it on winters though I know its just an existence of my unsuccessfulness’


NO TITLE ( I cant think of anything)


It all started when they were young, still kids though. Life was yet to unravel itself, it’s just like an early morning, when sunlight sprinkles in your room, giving window a large shadow and leaving you, neither asleep nor awake.
They were least aware of each other and yet inseparable, there were times when they had lot to do and then there was nothing to accomplish. They existed but the struggle to exist was yet to begun.

Studies still revolved around Things to do and Days to remember, of course now and then from nowhere came exams, it was than, when mothers suddenly stopped visiting each other, relatives were told of an unknown pressure and dad’s general questions became more concentric on studies, but for them it always came, saw and went.

Anyhow, they were not in the same class, now lets be positive about it, coz their mothers never discussed report cards and somehow whenever they spoke about their marks, + 10 was magically added to their scores. For them it all was trifle, studies, teacher, school was never on their mind, when they met, it was other big issues and their little secrets.

At 10, they were too mature to play pranks at each other. The locality was bustling up with children, a living proof of India’s population or future, whatever you prefer to call ! Now in one way or another only they two were of same age group, defying all logics, sometimes logics defy themselves…..so it was He & She and She & He.

One day he decided to hang a frog (must have seen a English flick with his dad), she was enthralled by the idea. Some days were spent in planning, about location, victim and execution details (man is a born manager).
Finally one day she managed to sneak in some wool, they were now prepared and the location was the nearby pond. He was scared, She wasn’t..but than he had to catch the frog, they managed to catch a toad, may be the amphibian would have been of the same age as of theirs, perhaps older, who knows! Finally they managed to get hold of it, she carefully wrapped the thread around his neck (girls always have a penchant for details and accuracy), they had to pull the strings from their ends when it would leap. A small leap for a frog, a game for the mankind. It’s unbelievable but Death is sometimes fun, after some consistent efforts and much to the rescue of frog’s soul, they succeeded. They hanged it on the tree, a mark of their success, Death over life!

When he returned home, it was bustling with excitement, he wondered Do they know, what we did but it was about Dad, he had been promoted and they were being transferred. Transfers are not just physical, hell they are emotional too, not because we love people more because we are scared, sacred of venturing into unknown zones, meeting unknown people. Mom was excited and had transformed into NDTV 24x7 and dad was pensive, may be he was scared too. He was too insignificant to be asked.

Few days later…….He was standing near the truck, which has gobbled his whole house, their parents were joking on how they would have to remain in contact because of them. They were not emotional, that’s being too immature, and perhaps it was more because they were excited, on how she would write him about the frog and he on his new friends. The thought of having a pen friend was in his mind and in hers who knows…..Time as usual passed, how come we not always mourn on its death …wonder! Letters never got posted, may be postal delays. He missed Her……

Delhi is a strange city, he had realized this over 23 years of his existence, like all days he waited for the route no 507 bus. In Delhi its an irony, whenever you want to board a particular bus, it never comes, otherwise you see hoards of them plying by, finally after an eternal wait it arrived. The bus was like all days overcrowded, he mused New Year, huh, people were jostling for space, both physical and mental, pre-occupied.

He managed to find a space, standing like a saint, hand holding the bar, in front of the seat above which was marked “Ladies Seat”, graced by the presence of two fair sexes, one whom every pervert in the bus was eyeing and other with a khadi kurta and specs, lost in a book.
He had stopped leeching years ago, this happened when he got enlightened, that with a physique and pocket like his, it is extremely unlikely that any girl with leftover sense will have a go with him. The realization was painful and slow, slow because in the period he proposed 10 different girls with different characteristics and painful because no one told him the truth, all he got was “I am sorry, but not interested”. Anyhow he was trying to read what the girl was reading.

“Perhaps a journo”, he earlier use to like the breed, now all he had was pity for them, his journo friend told him once the relationship between their salaries and work. He argued on passion all he got was “Passion needs money too” – discussion ended, there was no rum left and water tasted bitter.

The bus had reached IIT gate, he was wondering where the girls would get down, at least he would get to sit. The girl with specs looked up, their eyes met, trying to recognize something, his face was flat. She adjusted her spectacles, back to book and back on track. She then looked again.

“Girl no use, I know what I am….perhaps she is trying to hog a bit of limelight from the pretty lass” he silently laughed. The bus hitched on, his memory too…..may be I met her, nah…..don’t have these thoughts, who? Classmate nah….collegiate…did they know I existed, “who then?”


Munirka was next, she closed the book and raised up, he had to get down too……but he was transfixed.

‘Excuse me

Dibrugarh’

‘What?

Dibrugarh’

‘kya hai bhai, madam ko utarne dega – somebody pushed him


She made her way ahead and turned back to smile!

He was livid now, he streamed across the crowded bus…on to road behind her.

“Excuse me mam”

She stopped.

“Mam, I am sorry but I have seen you somewhere, ever been to Dibrugarh”

He was prepared for the rebuttal, slap but not for public beating or police thrashing. He took his chances.

‘All you remember is Dibrugarh (she gleamed)

He was overjoyed, she was laughing, like kids, like old times…..chronologically they were now mature.

‘Don’t you remember my name (there was false ring of anger in her voice)

Of course, I do…I do….

‘Thx God! At least you remember something, all you were saying was dibrugarh, dibrugarh (she laughed again)

Aah……I am sorry, how are you? (no clues what else to say)

‘Good and you, what about your parents, howz life (girls have this tendency to know everything in one go)

They are fine..I am Ok. Where you heading to?

‘JNU and U?

Me too, that’s great (now that’s good), why you going there?

‘Have to meet someone, you? Study there?

No I plan too.

(she laughed, they moved…)

‘So why you plan to study there?

Got nothing else to try, already tried CAT, Civils and now that’s only left

(She laughed again. He was feeling good elucidating his unsuccessfulness’)

‘JNU is tough you know

I know, first I am illiterate and then they got reservation for everyone else except me

‘Yeah, they got reservations for reserved and than these already reserved get into reserved admissions and than again compete for already reserved seats, India Developing!!!

You a journo?

‘why? Do I look like one?

Yes and you talk big

‘You were always good with guesses, yeah I am under training. What about you, you just preparing or working somewhere?

Yes, Seattle USA

‘What?

Work for a call centre

‘Oh!, than you must have an alias name, what’s yours? (like olden times, sharing secrets, now which are not, bhenchod half of America would know it)

Forget it…so you have to meet your boyfriend?

‘Yes

Cool

‘Disappointed (she laughed again)

No, I am already enlightened (he spoke with a more flatter voice)

‘What that mean?

That’s long, for now you can say I am unsuccessful

(she laughed again, he smiled wryly)

‘You know what, sometimes being unsuccessful is being God too. It costs much to remove the Un

Well philosopher journo, would you explain (he was not amused, girls shouldn’t act bright)

‘You remember the frog

yeah (genuine smile)

'It smelled bad

------------silence as they walked on-----------

He nervously searched his pocket for cig., nicotine his senses screamed. His thoughts lit up with the spark of the matchstick that rubbed against the coarse skin of its counterpart and smoke from his nostrils rolled like that from a steam engine. He moved.

You know what

(she looked back)

I never had friends.

-----------more silence--------------


‘There is he – she pointed to a handsome guy, near the tree, sitting on a bike (definitely male)

‘Wanna meet him

No, may be some other day, have to get prospectus early, neither would have to stand for hours

(she stared back, anguished)

Ok than, we again part (he threw the stub)

‘What, wont you even take down my number (she was surprised and sort of screamed)

No, I have to remove the Un and you just said it costs high….he smiled and walked away………leaving her and a lot behind…….

Cryptic Inception'

Well, this is going to be my first post in 2006, I have no ideas what to write about because unlike the bygone year, nothing else has changed. No please don’t take me as cynical person…I am not but I am being a bit realistic. I have no qualms in accepting that like everyone on this planet I am to expecting that things would change and I would have a better life. Just that I am not too hopeful about it.

So, I did not entered into 2006 partying, hell I was working, on top of that I got rebuked from my senior for using swear word…..so that is how I entered into 2006, not a perfect way I will say. Whatever, but this is how my 2005 ended, well it was late at night (though for me its never late at nights, more the sky darkens, more alive I feel), anyhow since I had just finished a second book by the same author (Chetan Bhagat)…..so I was interested in giving myself a good break…..it was around 3.00 am, I decided to play Snakes on my Nokia 2100……..
A line from one of those books was constantly blinking in my mind “I will rather fly and crash than snuggle and sleep”, finally when I could not beat my old score of mere 1000, like always I started viewing all the no.s listed in the phone directory, having an illusionary image of what they must be doing now (weird !)…….and how come it happened that I decided to see what security code has to offer….now I have no idea how it works but than that line once gain flashed…and I decided to take thy risk…..so in the wee hours of 31 Dec’05…..I got my SIM Card blocked…huh, not to be detailed, one can purely understand that how the rest of the day was spent in order to correct this mistake.

Now lets move into 2006, I had an office party…..please nobody would like to miss free booze and watch chicks dancing , though at all official parties if you are a born singleton like me, with a bit of decency thrown in……you will not dance with other’s girlfriend (believe me, some people do!), rather like me would sit in a corner with a rum/vodka/whisky glass and a cigarette…..wait that may be some lady in drunken state would come and appraise your company (though it never happened for me and I ended up consoling others who will watch some girl dance with someone and than tell me stories about their erstwhile love affairs or unpronounced love)……
But this time it was to be otherwise, first I was late for party and than when I was to rush out…..Z called up……so had to pick up the phone…..now Z was in a bit dismay…..he had a mini break-up, with his girl, now I hate to be a consoler when I am somber…..but Z was looking for something more…..so I cancelled the party plan and asked him to come over……after an eternal wait he showed up……than like as always we tried to understand the women mind…..unsuccessfully…..and finally it was decided that I will show up at the girl’s door with a bouquet, like a delivery boy…..and whoso ever comes, will give him/her the flowers and ask to sign a format which we printed down at the company name “Unsuccessful Flower Suppliers”…….

What happened rest is a long story…..end of it, by 23.00 hrs I was back in my room….all alone, without a drop of heavens drink…..with nothing to do…..but this time I did not played with my cell…….

Happy New Year’

P.S – I am trying to write a short story’

2006?

Before I dwell into this theme, let me put up a question on the gender of 2006.Though this may sound foolish and unnecessary which I totally agree to, but we should know a bit about what’s coming in.

I think scientifically, New Year does not holds any strong meaning, except that earth has once again like it always does has finally revolved around the sun and we mortals find different reasons to celebrate this!!

Anyhow I remember that as a kid, I use to make cards for my neighbors and friends, at that time Archies/PaperRose wasn’t that popular or they were sent to better off relatives and for rest we either use to send hand made cards or the one which are bought @10 Rs/pack, also for neighbours spending a rupee was a little unnecessary and it was the only time we could exhibit our drawing skills and one-liner talents.
So, I remember working along with my sis, as we prepare different cards and than like as all siblings do, fighting over it, the various reasons for that were as follows -

• Which cartoon/picture to draw
  
• Who will draw and who will fill in the colors
  
• To whom it will be given
  
• and who will write

But than despite my parents not believing in gender bias, I was the one who was crowned to be the delivery boy, as the task not only has to be done in the middle of night but also with precision (i.e. not to get caught, while slipping in the card), as other children waited at their doors with baited breaths and the moment they hear any sound of someone walking or see an envelope being pushed in, they would open the door and say “Pakad Liya, Dekha”, which use to cause huge embarrassment and than adding to your humiliation they would give you, your card and say “hamne socha tha tumhe jab pakad lenge tabhi denge” and thus you return back home with your card…..to face once again taunts from sis on being unsuccessful'

Plagiarism is often involve in making cards, as we use to copy lines, design from last year cards (if there) or from the new ones, which he have received early thanks to postal dept.

When I look back at those years which are now lost somewhere as earth kept on revolving monotonously I feel,Yes, New Year is a change…..change from watching DoorDarshan with family to not watching Satellite TV, from preparing cards to sending texts (SMS)….but some things never change, like I am still in habit of forwarding such messages…..lol

Coming back to my question on the sex of 2006, well I would say it’s either a pregnant female or a new born child, both weighed with expectations & than expectations…...may be I am deciphering it, like as always Unsuc…….

Hapless Mulling........

DISCLAIMER : I am not a pessimist, I am just Unsuccessful’ and this is what happens when you start thinking in the middle of night, have nothing to do, you cannot talk to any one or if want to rephrase it you don’t want to do so, loneliness is good but than try not thinking when so.

He was all alone, sitting in the comfort of his not so warm room, the tethered quilt though was capable enough so as not to let his feet go numb but it was not the cold outside which bothered him, it was the dense fog inside which we was scared about.

His whole room can be measured as 3 steps horizontally and 5 steps vertically, two pair of shoes, some clothes, a table hosting latest magazines, a chair whose nuts have developed a habit of dropping from nowhere and two bags along with a wooden cot which was caressed by two mattresses and a pillow.

He was feeling disconnected, though technologically he was just a call away from so called his people but sometimes distances do matter.
As boredom once gain set in, he lighted up a cigarette, smoke came out of his nostrils and filled the vacuum, nicotine no longer calmed his senses, yet he was addicted to it, why? He never searched for answers, every time he did so his bleak past came in front of his eyes, laughing, screaming, pointing fingers, he was by now scared of it and future was formless and at present searching for it would be just like asking for a non-delayed flight on a foggy morning!

Taking birth in a middle class family is today world’s greatest sin, it is equivalent of the mythological Trishanku, being poor you just look for satisfying your needs and rich stands for satiating your desires but aspiring for wants is quite troublesome, its like being half-dead………

For Homo-sapiens, living a socially formulated life is quite irksome, you have no freedom, and one barters it for cohesiveness and social support. You are burdened with responsibilities and so forth. “We are social animals” – whenever he read this he gets amused, the word animal still tags along and than aren’t we, we pounce on inferiors to us, get scared of superiors, lust constantly raises its hood amongst us and than the modern word competition isn’t its just a replica of jungle rule, a fight for better living, better grasslands, better game, a fight for good life, better mate, protecting springs-off………


Do world revolves on two axis, Sex and Success, one for survival and other for generation……perhaps sometimes we need not to be philosophical, rather should behave as a traveler experiencing new things as they come along but what if the journey becomes cumbersome?

As he stubbed the cigarette, he read on the packet –Cigarette Smoking Is Injurious To Health’ and than he understood, the whole zest of existence is not inside, its there on the surface, somewhere written in Bold and we either fail to realize it or just ignore it……Unsuccessfully’

Makhtub.....

Winters has brought nothing new for me and it has also been quite dismissive of my stand against nature, that I do not like seasonal changes…..this was just articulated by the met dept. prophecies to expect more chill in up coming days. I just don’t like winters, for me it’s a pain both physically and mentally. Physically coz my already lean frame, refuses to stand up against this onslaught and I develop cold and it other family members, mentally coz I am already inactive and the cold give me one more reason to be so!

Anyhow….I was unable to buy a cell-phone not because I didn’t have money but becoz I felt that spending 18k for a mobile was not worth it…..Well if some marketing student want to do a case study on me…..I think than I would have been the perfect material for that, I searched markets, asked about product availability, post-sales services, resale value and what not and all this exercise went futile as I finally decided not to buy that…..I personally feel that it was the middle class mentality that was the only roadblock that strangulated my dreams…..or am I like the Alchemist’s merchant, who could never go for pilgrimage……and than as he said Makhtub……….

So yesterday Z came, I had called him because I was afraid going alone to buy the cell, although we ended up at TGIF, Priya’…..had some rum and after that he decided for me that it was better if I keep the corpse of unsuccessfulness’ on my shoulders as than it could always act as a motivation for doing something good in life, so buying a new cell would lessen its weight and henceforth both materialistically and by intellectual standards, I have no rights to buy it! ……And than even in half inebriated state I kept my vow of not watching movies in hall......

N is having a bad time at IMA, makes me think why not always life goes in a straight fashion when it ought to be?

And this is for all those, who are fighting against their sins’ past or present, successfully or unsuccessfully, like me or unlike me……

Crossroads as they say
it happens all in sway,
Rhyming seems imperfect
tongue has lost its sweet effect,
Guarded air as they say
even sun sprays poison ray,
Words spell doom and sound grave
sea has lost its splash waves,
Me, huh the lone fighter
Keeps the vigil on the crown
and also speaks in a perfect noun,
All day and night, I would be the one
though Unsuccessful’ in my run
still going to say, yes it is still fun……

Abyssal'

This poem is written by keeping in mind a 10 year old boy from Tehri (Garwhal)…..who narrates his experience of his land grabbed for making a modern temple of India (Tehri Dam…built on homes of natives there, supposedly an environmental danger)…..I don’t know, how much I am successful in this attempt, to look at it with a 10 year old heart…anyhow my history precedes me…..which speaks volumes on my unsuccessfulness’

They came here some years back,
told us 'that we are a lucky stack,
The river above would be channelised
and our land is the perfect site,
Hence they will built a dam
this will irrigate many lands,
They all muted on water……….

We were very happy with this thought
somebody even broke a coconut, just for the right start
For some months it was all quiet
suddenly, big machines appeared the next night,
Streams of people poured in
wearing turban, skull-caps and some with suite and a tie-pin,
They all had different equipments you guess
I thought they would need my geometry box as well!

After some days they asked us to gather
my mother had an inkling of rough weather,
Father works in a big city, I don’t know
chacha thought, they called to give us jobs though,
They said’ we should be proud
for dam will end the country’s drought,
Our names will be galvanized in history
all we need to do is, to leave our village swiftly!!

We protested at this decision hard
why they never told us right from the start,
They said; view it from a different stand
country will benefit, from our submerged land!!!
Also, they will relocate us somewhere
and this will be done in a ceremony with fanfare,

Next day, some big leader came in
he said, we should fight against this sin,
Someone told me, he had saved tress before
where will trees grow, if there is no land more!!!!
Some known writer also pitched high
people said, she knows America’s president wife,
Hopes were floating everywhere
winter was also near,

Explosions in the mountains heart
we shivered on their part,
Turtles & Fishes would attend my school
coz under water, crocodile teaches with a rule,
We are still waiting for the Promised Land
chacha says, it will never be till the end,
May be I will go to the big city where father lives
mother says it’s a big risk,


Nor the mountain neither river smiles
just one question, will haunt us throughout our lives,
For why they all muted on water…..

Outsourced........

Nothing good going on…..just the same old story……thought better to air my views on outsourcing, which I wrote long back….have delayed buying the phone…..may buy a digital camera…..I don’t know…..I am too unsuccessful to take decisions now……should I outsource them?….Yes, No …maybe!

For How many years they rule our world
make us live in fear and death
Showed their supremacy all the way
and thought they would easily getaway,


Target their missile on our land
helping that fucking neighbour on the other end
Nuke bombs, tanks and submarines
built and sold everything that solves their needs


They denounced our nation saving move
and attack a country coz dictator rule
What they do is perfectly fine
coz they in a country of dollars and dime

Now it’s our turn to revenge
let them pay for their mistakes
And make their life a bloody hell
by taking all their jobs away

So sing with me and let them sigh
we don’t care if they are dying dry,
All we know its our time high
for all you phirangis its time to say goodbye


Science that was ours you took away
made us fool by your glittering babes
Cheated us on everything
c’mon be brave to face the swing,

World Trade Centre already gone
now we want the Washington house dome
See your Pentagon back in rumbles
Dow Jones has to fumble,


So sing with me and let them sigh
we don’t care if they are dying dry,
All we know its our time high
for all you phirangis its time to say goodbye!

Dedicating Unsuccessfulness......

As like always, life is moving at its snail pace, so there was nothing much to write upon….as for studies, I always plan them and then re-schedule those plans. Winter has finally crept in and if one ventures out early morning, the air can be heard whispering its arrival.

Last week Z came and went for some shopping, when you are in a materialistic world, it matters how you dress, so I decided to update my winter wardrobe, less for myself and more for as to make it visible to others! May be tomorrow I will go and buy a new mobile phone, which will depend on the amount of salary credited in my bank account…so perhaps I would be better able to express my unsuccessfulness with pictures, resembling my moods.

I think winter seasons arrive globally, so there is no steam in any political & economical news to muse upon, also WTO Hong Kong meet has already been doomed to be a failure so whatever be the results, it will hardly matter.

As about ‘T’….I once again message her today…only to realize that she will never respond, than I got perturbed and thought upon, Expectations…..We all are cursed by this word….in each and every form, can Expectations be synchronized with Hope, if Yes than ok…we cant help it, but if not than is it like the appendix in human body….which does not serves any function but more so often becomes an irritant…….finally I wrote something…..and dedicated this to ‘T’……for I decided that I will never think to think about her….Unsuccessful, once again? Yes, No….maybe

Ek vyarth koshish
ya shunya ka vistar,
Shabdon ki feri
ya sapnon ka junjal,

Vicharon ki paribhasha
ya chanchalta ki pukar,
Kya namkaran karoun
sab saachein bekar,

Na radha ki aankhon si
virah ki pyaas,
Na shabri ke beron si
isme mithas,

Sirf, kagaz ki zammen par
Sarkande ke hul se prayaas,
Yehi hai meri kavita
Ek vyarth koshish
aur ek asafal lekhakar.

The Battle'

This is a description of the situation in my room, which one may find relevant to contemporary International scenario….


This all started in the month of September, when I shifted to my new room. The previous guy living here was as an IAS aspirant, with geography as an optional, so once I moved in…. I had to tear all world maps and motivational posters, first one because world maps make me feel so small and give me ideas about being a nomad, the second one, I don’t need to explain…..so the only thing which remained was Lord Ganesh picture, which I dared not removed as I am superstitious (though a self proclaimed non-believer!) hence like Jews, I rearranged the new Israel


Now since I am a working bachelor, society does not expect me to live in hygienic conditions, so I followed the unsaid rule and very soon cig buds, half eaten biscuits, crumpled papers, unwashed socks and so on, adorned my room. I created a breeding ground myself just like Nehru did for Kashmir or US for China


As a result very soon, I find that my loneliness was invaded by mosquitoes, since I am an ardent newspaper reader, I knew that they are health hazards and one like me with a lean body frame and thus poor immune system, cannot bore the burden of being affected by Dengue, Malaria, Elephantis and jeopardize both my physical and monetary wealth.

From here started the war…….


The Sanctions
Immediately considering the gravity of the situation, I realized that my maid was unduly paid (as she comes early in morning, when I the nocturnal living being goes off to sleep and she is hence asked to come next day, which never comes). So for her now it was either “You are with Me or Them”….she diligently used the broom and gave the room a phenyl bath (that smell still in my nose!), books were dusted, clothes rearranged. However like the UN sanctions it turned out to be a dud affair and a Volcker report is soon expected….


The First wave
Now the situation was already getting out of hand, so arsenals were put into use, first ‘All Out’ was pressed into services (I never expected it to jump and eat mosquitoes though but least like Air force 1, it should have prepared the ground)….its futility became more prominent with each passing day, also I forgot to switch it off so it was getting costly…


Traditional Warfare
As suggested, I restored to our age old mosquito coils, now this worked out and soon they were kissing the grounds….I pronounced from my bed “ I Got Them” but unfortunately I was celebrating the victory too early…..they became accustomed ( just like humans, the spirit to survival can be seen best here, universal truth! ) and soon they were resilient, taking refuge in corners, behind clothes, books (just like Talibanis).



Chemical warfare
Now I bought a spray, I am using it now for the past two weeks, making every corner of my room a Fajullah…..ambushing them here & there and hoping if they survive and get out they get marred by the Coil effect’



Many civilians (ants) have died in this war, I can see their funeral procession every night…they still walk in line….some move astray…like lost kids. I hope mosquitos don’t follow Islam (no offence) and I do not face Jehad’…..and I also believe with onset of winters they become lull, like Kashmiri militants.

In turn, I have also been affected both monetarily and health wise, I am smoking twice, once my nicotine sticks and then the coil smoke’ ( but the coil pack says its of no affect to humans, hoping it doesn’t turn out like the American intelligence report on WMD’s ....as they call it “sexed up”………….

Existence......

It has been more than 18 hours and I haven’t slept, I don’t know may be I am getting insomniac…. But than why sleep is deluding my eyes? perhaps I am not working hard, I have heard that a person who works hard gets a sound sleep, so I do not deserve it.


Sometimes I feel, my whole existence is like the early morning dew, which glitters only to be vaporized by the sun and than it becomes water vapour…than clouds…finally rain and this cycle continues on….is this an unsuccessful existence or a just one, I can’t decide but it is too tiring…..I would rather like to be “Air”…unbounded, omnipresent, sometimes mild and furious, bringing hope and destruction, different names according to different traits, to be precise, the prototype I will choose is, to be ‘Wind’…..yes I want to be Wind……deciding my own course…..free at will,one step down..three steps ahead, a force to reckon with....but is it really or just the Wind’ thinks so…who knows!

I have nothing to say
my pen is dry today,
Thoughts, I bargained them all
feelings, huh they just crawl,
I have lost all sense
like traveler in forest dense,
I have nothing to say
my pen is dry today,

Neither I have the Rama’s will
nor I enjoy the Krishna’s thrill,
Enlightment is out of question here
nirvana is what I fear !
I have nothing to say
my pen is dry today,

I called her name aloud
did she heard this sound,
My hollowness screamed
sweetheart, it’s a futile dream,
I realized, I have nothing to say
my pen is dry today,

I tried to wipe thy tear
eyes said, It’s a drought here!
Smile suddenly crossed my lips
like sand trickles down quick,
Again, I have nothing to say
my pen is dry today,

He from their above
who pull all string fine,
Wonders, why this boy tries
for when he is destined to make just ‘Unsuccessfully Yours’ rhyme,
And hence, I have nothing to say
my pen is dry today…….

Delusive Introspection....

I am getting old, with each passing day, I think I am getting old not only in physical sense but emotionally too, I think it happens with each one of us….our souls are like machines, coz we do not use them (in some cases at all) so it get rusted and than its quality depreciates…Why this happens? Machines can be oiled, dusted and can be made re-ready to use, but can a rusted soul be oiled…may be not or like 'T' says….Yes, No…Maybe!

The reason I am contemplating this is, That everyday when I go to office, on every next red light as the car stops, kids standing on the pavements rush, some with pirated books in hands, some with a cloth in hand and diligently start wiping the dust of the ‘luxury’, ‘family’ car or ‘SUV’….not all the time they get rewarded or should I say paid? I don’t know whose and what dust they try to wipe -
Dust from our souls
Dust from the vehicle
Dust from their fate

When I say this, I remember that In NCERT books, on the front page there is “Gandhiji’s Talisman” …I don’t remember it word to word but its zest was that ‘your every action should be determined, that how it will affect the fate of millions deprived and whenever you face a dilemma, always try to remember the face of the poorest guy and than think, how this action is going to help him’ , when I see these kids and think I cannot justify my actions….I think I should make a difference but how, can a unsuccessful person like me, who has not the ability to make a difference to his own life and can make a difference in some one’s else…….or am I too running away like all?

May be this school poem, which I use to recite with a few hundred in morning prayers, where the whole idea was to sing it best and than as I moved up…than to wind it up early, now holds some meaning……

It is better to light, just one little candle
than to stumble in the dark,
Better far than those.....
all you need is just a tiny spark,

If we all say a prayer that the world would be free
The wonderful dawn of a new day will see,
and from just one little candle
What a bright world this would be.....


And about ‘T’…….. “Kahan ho yaar? Bahut ho gaya….plz ek baar mil to lo”

Sapless Introspection'

My excursion over the continuous stretch of monotonous life, continues on without any major hindrances….in other words each day passes more predictable than the other. Sometimes I wonder that we all yearn for changes and keep on cursing ourselves in one way or the other and when such change occurs than we think about the past and try to relive in its glory! I am not sure whether this happens with me or the whole human society is plagued by this desire for change….. but whatever……Changes are always welcome.

As usual I went to DaryaGanj on Sunday and among the plethora of books tried to search something relevant and than robotically ended up buying 03 different books, of which none was required….well Firdausi’s ‘ShahNama’, Coelho’s ‘Alchemist’ and ‘Best Hindi stories of ’96. Well I always go to DaryaGanj in hope that one day I would stumble upon some rare book or a personal diary…..the search is still on’ unsuccessfully….

Another thing I noticed that even how much our English story writers try but they never will be able to depict the poverty and the intricateness of our society….the way Hindi writers bring it forth….it seems so genuine or perhaps coz of language I can relate it better but than I always feel the nostalgia that is required to linger on after reading a heart-wrenching story can be found only in Hindi short stories. May be I was too obsessed with Hindi in my 10+2.


I am still planning to buy a new mobile phone for me and the choices are between MottoRazer and Nokia 6681 rather the bigger choice is that how to stop myself from buying this and better spending it else. Also I have switched over my newspaper so I believe that now I would be politically more aware since I do not enjoy the luxury of a television. There is a lot of questioning that I have to do with myself about what I am looking for, where I am heading to and what not…but let these questions be frozen as I move on, though monotonously………how unsuccessful!

‘T’……….I have nothing to say about her….all I can remember about her is...

• Her nose
  
• Her smile
  
• Her eyes
  
• I still visualize her in that blue dress
  
• Her rashes that spring on from nowhere around her ear
  
• She being uncomfortable
  
• The frustration on her face...

May be I am asking for too much……more than I deserve……..but Can't I?