Tuesday, September 13, 2011 

Growing up

I generally blog when the sum total of thoughts in my head is more than four. This is a post after a very long time, and frankly out of place right after these ridiculous posts from my yesteryears. But, I'm going to let them stay since they are one of my only connections to my childhood, other than the secret space time continuum interface in my room :)


Growing up when I did, in the 90s, makes a great story in itself. This was about when I was about 10. I can recall to my children, how I bought an entire tape to just to play ‘Made in India’ by Alisha Chinha. How I used to turn-over the tape when the side finished playing. How I’d play a song from ‘B’ side just to repeat my favorite song from ‘A’ side again, because my rewind button was broken. Over the years, I did improvise. I used to walk down to the closest video-audio rental store, with handpicked cassettes that had music that was made before I was born, and much to the annoyance of my mother, I would overwrite them with the latest indipop and Ricky Martin. This was a breakthrough, since I did not have to buy a tape for one song and I could have all my favorite songs recorded on a single tape. The joy was unmatched. If I recall accurately, I used to pay about 5 rupees per song. The rental guy (I don’t remember his name. Let’s call him Balu for the sake of this story), was a smart businessman. He’d found a way to open up new tapes, without tampering the protective cover they come in. Balu would use a blade to neatly open up the cover and record the song that I wanted, unto my tape. Its a part of the shadowed entrepreneurship our society quietly nourishes. I was reading about the automobile scrap market in Bombay. They boast of transforming pieces of junk that were formerly shining cars, which have not been on the road for over a decade into a taxis that can’t be distinguished from new ones. All you need is a petrol engine and a registered chassis, and you can walk yourself out with a muscular bombay taxi. Quite often, these stories are overshadowed by reports of 'Piggy Chops' (WTF?) turning vegetarian. So anyway, coming back to tapes, Balu used to be my only gateway to new music (without having to buy the tapes, of course). He’d be open only few hours a day as opposed to now where you can download your music is while you’re sleeping. So I’d skip evening cricket matches to go to the store and look up new shit I heard on TV. If it was now, I'd gladly miss class to get music, except I don't have to. With an increasingly globalized society and technology doing most of the shit for you – I wonder if we have lost the value for most things simply because they come to us so easily.

I originally intended to write about transformations that my generation has witnessed. Tapes to mp3. Roll film to digital images. Pager to mobile. Desktops to laptops. Floppy drives to pen drives. VCR to Mpg. These are great stories. Some other time, I guess. Also, feel free to sling mud at my choice of music.

Sunday, April 05, 2009 

The Pink Chaddi

Offlate, I've read quite a lot of literature on how undignified the whole Pink Chaddi campaign is/was. I fail to understand the arguments of most proponents of this school of thought. Often, they stem arguments that rely on brittle premises that take the act of defiance for granted.

Sagarika Ghose wrote one of such essays which is truly a chip off a block of trash (www.youtube.com/watch%3Fv%3D2l7DmKgKpzc). Her career of journalism should have ceased to exist after the (www.youtube.com/watch%3fv%3d2l7dmkgkpzc>Great-Foot-In-The-Mouth accident).

It is not just her. There are several other "campaigners" of "dignity of women". While I don't seek to generalize the whole debate, this is certainly the "causa proxima" of my angst against the minority who argue that the Pink Chaddi campaign was "undignified" and "gross".

I take Suchitra's article(http://www.suchitra.com/2009/02/the-pink-chaddi-campaign) as a representative of all the people who think the Pink Chaddi campaign was, principally, a

I consider myself a liberal. I beleive in freedom and most of all i consider myself to be a champion for womens rights. I pat myself on the back for it and am sometimes cursed for it. I’m often aghast at the double standards that exist in our society and have sometimes raised my voice against it. to the extent of being labelled a suffragette and a feminist.

Cursed for it? By whom, Pray? Here's my problem. What ARE the double standards you're talking about?

I refuse to accept the label of a feminist because in my view a feminist is one who is battling for her rights and her equality. In my view there is no battlle- my equality is a given. It is my fundamental and constituitonal right. I demand it without a war and i demand it with the dignity that is due to me as a woman and an equal member of this society.

Score! While you are intriguingly pointing toward a idealist's Utopia, it is not quite the same outside the bubble you live in. What is the equality you're alluding to? The fact that girl children are still slaughtered in some communities? The fact that women are not facilitated with basic education in some communities? Where's the equality, love?

Though i am a great one for causes, this time around, call me a prude if you wish but i am very grossed out at the pink chaddi campaign. What is the pink chaddi campaign, some of you may ask? I first heard about it on the radio this morning, where the over enthusisatic RJ’s were appealing to all the women to assert their rights on the eve of Valentine day by collecting their pink underwear and sending it to the Sri Ram Sena in Hubli. The Sri Ram Sena are same goons who molested the girls in a Mangalore pub recently for going against indian culture.The pink chaddi campaign also appealed to all women to invade the pubs on 14th feb valentines day, and raise a toast to womanhood. Even with a glass of juice for the teetotaller. The misguided campaign is one brave and dusgusted Delhi girls attempt at hitting back at the Sri Ram Sene chief and the moral police brigade of our country- to tell them that we women will not cow or bow down to their bullying tactics. So far so good-

She's used over 100 words and said nothing. What's your point, honey? I'm going to use this argument soon, to prove to you that she contradicts herself.

But to send them your pink underwear? Excuse me whats that about?

Its about resistance. Its about raising your voice against bawdy bullies who are insecure about their declining power of asseration. I hope that answers your rhetorical question.

Dear “pinkchaddicampaigner”, By calling yourself a loose and forward woman because you love to visit pubs, you are displaying your own confused morality and pandering entirely to their depraved point of view. There is nothing loose or forward about women visiting pubs-it is as much our right as anybody elses. Dont let anybody make you think otherwise.

I'm not sure you understand the language of sarcasm. Oh wait, you just choose to conviniently ignore it, don't you?

Men and baboons who have a problem with it should be asked to investigate and prove their own masculinity, not question our feminity. What exactly is it that these men find so threatening about women behaving like they do? What is it they are afraid of?

Oh, get out. Now you're just talking gibberish. You fail to understand that its not 'men'. Its just some men who suddenly wake up to the attention that the media screams on people who disrupt social order and make them celebrities overnight.

By sending them your underwear you are promoting yourself as a steriotypical peice of arse and nothing more. Its exactly what the bullies of religious facshist organizations are trying to tell you you are, and you have fallen right into the trap.

Sterotypical? Right. Because we all see the defiant Indian woman as the one who sends out beight coloured inner garments, isn't it?

Is the underwear the only symbol of womanhood and sisterhood you could find? Why not send them a noose to hang themselves? Or pins to burst the inflated and false bubbles of their warped minds?

Wow! You never cease to amaze me with your trash talk. While you incorrectly categorize sending 'panties' as a symbol of womenhood (not that I wear any), you go a leap ahead and steal your moment of glory by making preposterous suggestions of what should have been done. No shit, Einstein!

Or how about us women fighting with our minds instead? Appealing to the Government to start a sterilization campaign for anybody who molests or rapes a woman… like they do with rabid stray dog.Aw! You started on hopeful note. I was expecting atleast ONE argument. All I see here is emotional garbage. You don't have a point. You're just wasting cyberspace. Bust up that modem and eat it, love. Its not for you.

I understand your intention dear “pinkchaddicampaigner”, but If you want to become a goddess please dont behave like a whore.

Ah, now you're getting acerbic. Nobody wants to be a goddess. And whore? You're actually suggesting that the 20k odd women who frontlined the movement were whores? I'd argue with you if your intellectual faculty was more than the village idiot's brother.

For Gods sake …Look at Pramod Mutaliks (the Sri Ram Sene chief’s) face… and lets ignore him for the bully and loser he is. He dosent merit all this fuss. Does he deserve something as beautiful and precious as your underwear?As a woman dont you think you should be particular about who sees your panties?

Sure, he doesn't. The rationale behind giving him the limelight is to make people aware of how slippery the ground of morality is. The morality that the Sena is trying to "protect". That way, he knows that such incidents are not taken lightly by the Indian public.

The libbers who burnt their bra’s in the sixties realized too late that it was a garment meant to keep their boobs from falling to the ground. Those who kept their bras on still walk tall.

And what does that have to do with anything you're saying? Unless you're suggesting that women should just continue to get roughed up by bullies with a misconstrued idea of morality and Indian culture. In that case, you're just contradicting yourself.

Here's my point. Let's stop looking at the incident in its letter. Lets focus on the spirit instead. It was an act of resistance. An act of defiance. An act to show that the women in India won't take such unwarranted violence lightly. That's what it signifies.

Sunday, October 05, 2008 

UN or US with an 'N'?

The whole issue of the relationship between America and the UN has weakened the UN. Ever since it was formed, the US has been a potent member of the UN. America has struck deep into the UN mine, and pumped hundreds of millions of dollars and then, expected monopoly over the decision making. As a result of which, some major international problems were dealt with by America, fanning its supremacy, (such as in Suez and especially in the Middle East) rather than the UN solving them.

In 1985, this theme was even taken up by America’s Congress which declared that:

"Voting rights (in the UN) should be proportionate to the contribution of each member state to the budget of the UN and its specialized agencies."

It is clear that America did not want to contribute toward the UN budget. America wanted to invest. In case the United Nations does not let the U.S.A make their way, they refuse to follow the United Nation’s guidelines. This how far fetched the ever growing financial tentacles of the US of A are.

In the UN, most work is done by the Security Council, which consists of 15 nations, five of which are permanent members. The USA is a permanent member. The other ten countries are selected and are on the council for a period of two years. In a routine matter, a minimum of nine approvals is required for the matter to be passed. In a more important matter, however, all five permanent members must approve for the matter to be passed. Therefore, one of the major countries can veto anything they think doesn't benefit them. They believe that, as they facilitate green for the UN, they should get the most say out of all the countries. Of course, third-world countries would not be able to pay anywhere near to the sum that say, France or Britain pays. However, the permanent five expect the UN to benefit them although they are already well off, so how can any good be done? That is precisely the reason why the third world countries continue to remain third world countries.

In 2005, two weeks prior to when world leaders were due in New York to talk about global poverty and United Nations reform, the United States was trying to renege on commitments to fight poverty. If this wasn't so gut-wrenchingly important to the one billion people in Africa, Latin America and Asia who subsist on barely anything, the U.S. proposal, presented by America's new UN ambassador, John Bolton, would be almost comical.

The leaders of more than 170 countries were to show up to sign an agreement, under negotiation for six months, to bolster the UN Millennium Declaration, which was drafted with great fanfare in 2000. Chief among the Millennium Declaration's goals was for developed countries, like the United States, Britain and France, to work toward giving 0.7 percent of their national incomes for development aid to poor countries by 2015. When America woke up to the financial obligations, President George W. Bush had a change of heart. The draft document that Bolton shared with other diplomats calls for striking almost all mentions of the Millennium Development Goals, which also call for poor countries to adopt good governance.

American officials at the United Nations also complain that the section on poverty is too long. And the United States wants to erase parts of the text that would ask countries to "achieve the target of 0.7 percent of gross national product for official development assistance by no later than 2015."

That’s the power the USA exercises over the UN. The expectations clearly demonstrate the depth to which they hold access. Of course, staunch right conservationists would argue, and even justify America’s decision, since for most extremes, financial growth is no more than a sample size of 1.

Iraq was clearly an Albatross around its neck. The UN also had to hang its head in shame in the dealings of Iraq, since it did not have much to boast about it being an uninfluenced decision.

When the US presented a formal draft to the Security Council, that stated military action against Iraq, the world shifted its eyes to the other permanent members. France, China and Russia were under an acute pressure. "You're either with us or against us," was the message that Washington sent out to the other permanent members.

With this delicate international dynamics, the US, after several weeks, decided to abate the draft (apparently), and this included tough weapons inspections with a threat of military force, meant as backup.

The US submitted its draft to negotiation with all 15 council nations to show its reluctant allies, France and Russia, that it had sufficient support for the resolution among the 10 non-permanent members.

After what happened with Iraq, its quite obvious as to what happened next. These are some of the luxurious stems of control that the US has. The UN and its bodies function almost independently. It’s a ridiculous method of functioning, considering the magnitude of implications a body such as the UN can have on the world.

Effectively, the US is the UN, even though several people would like to believe that the UN is a peacekeeping body. And that it is a boon to the world. They fail to accept that has an organizational flaw that can lead to its downfall – Lack of finance and transparency, which countries like the USA take full advantage of. The whole multilayered structure of the UN makes it susceptible to such global powers. We want to build uber optimistic bubbles of hope around us and ignore reality because it does not fit into the idealistic mould of thoughts. While we do this, sitting in a country that is so politically instable, America is already executing its blue print of how to take over the world.

Monday, December 03, 2007 

The Outlook

Just when I thought it started, it seems to be disappearing into a far crushing horizon.

You just know its the right thing. The right place. The right person. Everything is so right about it. Why must it last for such short periods?

It just makes it harder to live in the constant fear of a good thing being deprived of you. 'Cos you belong to it.

For whatever it is worth, that infinitesimally small period of happiness is what brings so much hope and a reason to look forward to days.

But it just blows when nothing happens. When you always think something was meant to.

Things don't prove you right or wrong. Perception does.

Outlook decides what is made of The week. Not the other way round.

Friday, November 30, 2007 

The Week

I loved this week.

There are those times when we all ridicule certain things and ideas and never believe that they can be of any significance.

And there are those times when you are proved wrong.

The taste is still sweet. Even if it hurts your ego and convictions.

Because you feel that familiar feeling. Again. :-)

Monday, November 26, 2007 

Chocolate Thatha

“Chocolate thatha. What happened to him?” said a kid, when we were bringing you from the van. Your face looked calm and composed as you had ever been. I don’t remember the last time you had gotten angry. We brought you into the house. And Avva broke down. I know what it feels like. I dread those shoes. 70 years of sharing coming to an end is not something that anybody would want to experience. Such a huge chunk of your life being torn from you makes you terribly weak and helpless. And I could see that in Avva’s eyes. You influenced everybody who ever lived in that colony with your warmth and affection. A case in point – Your friend said “He is like a god to me”. I was overwhelmed to see how many lives you had touched. The men in the colony quit half a day’s work and came back just to see you.

Thatha, you taught me to live a life of simplicity. I’m glad I am what I am, today. As a person. And as a human being. You taught me charity. You taught me regularity. You bought me ice creams and told me about how you spent your younger years toiling away to sustain a family. You once said, “What you have is not yours. What you give is yours”. And I will always remember that. You gave me my first pocket money.

And now you were just lying down before me on the floor. Smiling and carefree. I touched your face. And you felt cold. Yet so warm. I cried.

He watched the 20-20 final match. And distributed chocolates among his friends. He even played Dandiya that night. Little did I know that it would be his last. Each time I look at his photograph in the showcase, I can see that sparkle in his eye. That glint of life.

That’s my grand dad. He was a man of honor all along his life. His life treads on a thin line of principles and pragmatism. His last words were to my grandma. And he said, “Don’t stop giving the grandchildren their pocket money.

Thanks for everything Thatha. I love you. And I’m glad I hugged you.

Saturday, November 24, 2007 

Ages after

Its been aeons since I last posted. I read my previous posts and it felt like reading someone else's blog with a remotely similar parallel life. I need to blog more often. And I'm going to do just that.

However short.

Glug glug Blog.

Saturday, July 28, 2007 


Okay, there goes. Thats the film trailer. Finally out. Hope you guys like it. Send me your gaaliyaan and taaliyaan :-)

Wednesday, November 29, 2006 


Its the grey side of the red wall. Personally, the reason I'm writing this, is to discard a common, yet a realistic misbelief about the VNSites. I think the perception is a sure shot implication of the group introvert’ism’ (true, though it souds like an oxymoron) that they practice and of course their extra head-off-the-shoulders behavior.

Honestly, I thought they were a bunch of brash idiots devoid of a life other than what they define as their social circle. I realized that I had made a dangerous generalization after I met people who forced me to disqualify my axiom driven theory. There exists a lot than the perceived truth. This is one of those experiences, which epitomizes collapse and radical change in convictions.
It was another boring beginning to the weekend. I got up, hardly in a position to attend school. Decided to do what college junta luxuriously practice - bunk. I got into the car. Arjun said something. Not that I listened to any of it. I got down at CBI, and made an uneventful walk to Abijith's house. The bastard was still asleep. Woke him up, got him ready and we decided to attend the BMUN(Bangalore Model United Nations) organized by VNS. In spite of the exaggerated court room drama environment, the BMUN still manages to attract a large chunk of school going crowd. Its not the conventional inter-school event that catches the screams of pretty school girls. In contrast, its a rather quiet and formal affair.The session aped the UNO general assembly sessions. We sat quietly at the end of the 4 rows of chairs put up for public. We were half an hour late. But then, I had estimated how eventful that half an hour had been after seeing a teacher knitting a sweater. I knew a few VNSites from Orkut. The initial intention of scrapping VNSites was obvious - to make fun of them, attempt to reduce their mountain sized ego and do the world a favor. But, as I said before, my intentions soon changed to the harmless. I really wanted to take part in the MUN and kickass. This would have probably prevented another disastrous article titled "Diplomats in the making". Diplomacy is bullshit. Its a stupid tool that dipshits use to establish their political correctness. Its like saying in a weather report, "Its a bright sunny day. There're no chances or rain. Though we can expect light showers later on in the evening." Whats the whole point in modeling the UNO, with uber optimistic, unreal, bullshit messages of `peace and declaring equal statuses to all countries, letting the participants go back with a pupa of, almost comical optimism, built around them??
I thought the BMUN was a case in point of the above mentioned. But, I don't blame them. They're probably obligated to make the event what it is. Anyway, by mid morning, a generous serving of excitement was served. It was an Iranian delegate's bad day. If there was a verbal version of the chair sticking his leg into her crotch, then that was what she got. She had apparently passed derogatory comments on the chair, accusing him of having a weird face with popping out eyes or some such bullstool. Stupid bitch! As most of my friends know, I love making full educative use of such occasions. Abijith and me were tempted to pretend to be the press and interview her. I even pulled out a book and borrowed a pen all set to cause some more damage. Sadly, Nupoor stopped me. She got softer than she should have. I would have probably done a polite version of sticking a middle finger, toward the "delegate". She looked easy prey too. All ready to cry. But, Nupoor burst my bubble. But, I did give the delegate my dirty stares. :-D
After another uneventful hour, a break was called for, which is when I met our very own queen - UtharaRamakrishnaGanesh, who introduced me to the real press - Pooja. Don't ask me how I know her :-D (If you understood how, then you're probably grinning widely now.) And then we had discussions ranging from the material of wool used to make JLo's underwear to buttlines on Uthara's shoes (the maker was probably trying to make shoes, he ran out of leather and the outcome was a brand new pair of something(its not named yet :D) that showed 10 buttlines on the feet. Wow!) to the bacterial effects on metal sulphates in anaerobic environment. Actually no, we spoke about some chick all the time, who was apparently hot and around.

All in all, it was a great day. Though not a very eventful one, certainly, a memorable one. I’d love to go again, and the next time probably interview the Iranian babe ;-)

Sunday, October 08, 2006 

Crocodile Hunter Vs. The crap snake

The Crocodile Hunter craps a snake out of his @$$


krait headless snake

"This common Krait(Bungarus caeruleus) was killed by a local villager, we got there an hour after it was beheaded and found it still moving like it was alive! we were a little late for the rescue, but did learn something new!"

Saturday, October 07, 2006 

A Glimpse

The night was closing in. I was determined to make it happen. All those days of planning would have gone crashing into the bin. Just as I moved out of the house, I closed the door behind me with a slight creak. I had Rs. 62 with me. I had kept Kartik sir informed about my arrival to borrow his bike. At 9:20 PM, I reached Manju's place. As I called out to him, I looked to notice a voloptous chick who happened to be Manju's neighbour.
His house was located in the middle of several posh buildings, with small time s/w offices scattered about. Sadashivnagar, an area known for housing people smelling of money. I heard the click of the door, and Akshay appeared at the entrance. "Lets get outta here. I want to make something exciting happen tonight." I said, grabbing his hand. Before he or his mother realized what was happening, we were out walking on a light deprieved street near Mekri circle. On the way, he asked me questions which I hadn't thought of, myself. I had a million thoughts pounding my head. If we got caught tonight, then we would be shot by people whose existance we weren't even aware of. But, life's no fun without adventure, I thought. Akshay didn't seem to be convinced. But deep within, he was excited. Finally, after a dozen phone calls, we reached Sir's place. He taught us Sanskrit. He was lean, in his early twenties. His thoughts were extremely profound and intriguing. The entire class, including the kannada and Hindi junta loved him for his friendly attitude. He was one man who had not forgotten his childhood, unlike most other teachers. We entered his building and knocked at the door, and there he was smiling and cheerful as ever. He walked us in and handed us the key. "Have some tea", he offered. But we rejected his offer politely and set out for, what we hoped would be an exciting and eventful night.
Our first pitstop was Al-bek. We packed some meat and moved straight to Sagar’s place. Sagar, is one of the most intellectually sound guys I’ve ever come across. He’s a great friend and an extremely intense guy. I don’t remember the last time he got angry. “SAGAR”, I called out. He came out with the same expressionless smile on his lips. Our parents were informed that we were having a study stay over at Sagar’s place. We convinced Sagar to manage any situation/phone call. He bid goodbye to us, as we set of for the ride.
We called for Nandi hills. I soon hit the highway. It was dark as hell and the headlights were dim. I could hardly see what was coming ahead. We rode on. 90kmph. The air rush passed me, tickling my tear glands. Everything stationary zipped past me into crushing oblivion. The engine was roaring. I was extracting every fraction of power, I could from it. The confidence allowed me to go harder at the accelerator. The libero in front of us was pounding an easy 100kmph. I was in its pursuit, a few meters behind. The road widened. I could hardly see the road. I stepped up the speed. It was almost like I was traveling at the speed of light. For me, it was. The needle was wobbling at 100kmph. I grinned with pride at its sight. I looked up to keep up with the Libero. He was having trouble. My eyes were blinded. I heard a sudden breaking screech, followed by a loud thud! The libero had crashed right into a divider that had appeared on the middle of the road, from nowhere. “FUCK”, screamed Akshay. I slammed the brakes hard, and turned to the left of the road, to catch a glimpse of what had happened. The Libero rider had smashed his skull unto the streetlight. It looked like his head was bleeding intestines. I could see no more. Every cell in my body was overflowing with Adrelin. There are moments when you are scared to your bones, and too shocked to say anything. Akshay was in just that state of mind.
I started the bike, and we were back burning rubber. But this time, I was more cautious. The scene was drenching my mind with fear.
I took the diversion to Nandi hills. We rode on. The journey seemed to last forever. The sky was dressed with a million stars twinkling. It was decorated by the crescent moon. I needed a break off the ride. We stopped for a break at a local tea stall. An old woman, with a modest sari was making tea for visitors at 11 30 PM. I felt sorry for her. But my mind was too preoccupied to think about her. We sat down with a glass of tea each, unpacked the meat and started eating it up, on the road.
“How was it till now?”, I asked Akshay looking for some assurance.
“Fuck! I can’t believe we’re still alive” He blurted.
I didn’t say much. I gave him a grave look, which was a cue for him, to STFU.
We started the ascend finally. The engine was roaring with strain. The poor thing. We finally reached the top. The sky was dark now. It was only the moonlight that was allowed us to see.
There was a small shop, which sold, what looked like chips, biscuits, puffs and the like. If I ate something there, I would have probably vomited my digestive system. It looked ancient and probably deserved to be in the museum. A little ahead was a small guest house. A few drunk men were gambling with a worn out pack of cards. I looked around. There was a Maruti van parked close to the guest house. It was swaying violently
Akshay was busy celebrating his survival. “Hey! Don’t you think that car’s moving?” I asked him. He said with frustration, “You can’t see a fuckin divider 10m away on the road, and you claim to see…” I was not listening. I ran towards the car. I watched from a distance, only to notice that there was a couple inside the vehicle making out. I got excited. I called Akshay. He noticed it too. We looked at them for a while. They probably realized that we were watching. Anyway, we lost our interest too soon. It was no way close to the porn which we watched on the internet. Porn was sex under ideal conditions. It was like gentle waves slapping the velvet beaches. All planned and controlled. It got too boring at the top. It had been barely few mins, when we decided to head back home. My eyes were drooping and I struggled to keep it open. I started the bike, once again. We started going downhill. I was worried about the petrol. It got very cold. Neither of us had anticipated the drastic change in weather. I could hear Akshay’s jaws making a shivering noise. Every exposed part of my body turn numb due to the chill. I managed to ride back to Sagar’s place. This time there were two police constables sitting on an abandoned bus stop. The idea was to sleep at Sagar’s place and get back home the next day. But, destiny had different plans for us. I zipped past the policemen. There wasn’t a sign of light in Sagar’s place. We voted, it was best not to disturb the people at home. It was dark everywhere. The silence was deafening, except for the occasional cricket which buzzed, what seemed like miles away. I turned the bike to the right to return to Sir’s house. There was a figure of a man, standing ahead, on the road, waving his hand madly. It was the policeman! I was forced to stop. “What are you doing at this time of the night?”, he asked me. “We came to have a look at our school”, I said without thinking. He ordered us to park the bike on the side. He was a tough man. With a mustache that was almost gray. The other policeman didn’t seemed to be bothered about us. He dozed away. I looked around. The road to my right laid out far and clear. If I got caught, it would land me in deep soup. It would probably lead to my expulsion from school. My parents might disown me for this sin. What if my academic life meets a dead end? I would be responsible for Akshay as well. The only alternative was to get away. If we got caught, then it would land us up behind bars. I decided to risk it. Afterall, we didn’t have any alternative. “Let me see your DL?” the policeman said. I looked at him blankly. He probably read my mind. His hand darted toward the key. I had to act fast. I let the clutch go in a whiff. And boom! The front wheel was up in the air, and we were doing a circus stunt. He caught Akshay’s shirt. Akshay bit his hand off. Without further thought, I blistered through the empty road. We had just committed an offense under the law. I felt something beating hard in my mouth, which I sure was my heart. I had to save my skin now. I was only hoping, that the policeman had not informed the ‘Hoysala’ about our escapade. The nearest place I could think of, to take shelter was Abijith’s. It was growing very cold. It was like my blood had frozen in my veins. The cold air freezed every single part of my body. ‘White house’, I could faintly see, written in white color, in the distance. I needle just kept climbing. I reached the gate. YES! We had made it. It was like bagging the world record for a 100m race. We slipped inside, only to realize, that Abijith was out of town for a trek. Damn! Now we had to sleep in the basement. I slept close to a car. I think it was a Mercedes. I couldn’t see much in the dark. There were mosquitoes tearing my skin open, to grab a part of my blood. I was too tired and worn out, to ward them off. It wouldn’t do much harm, if I donated my blood, I thought. Finally, it became unbearable. We walked out of White house and asked in a few houses, if we could sleep in their house until morning. They refused flatly. “BD, I think this is the most screwed up night of my life.”, Akshay said. “Well, at the end of it, be thankful to me that we’re still alive. That policeman could have raped our happiness” I replied, with almost overflowing pride. Akshay sighed.
I was too sleepy now. Even toothpicks between my eyelids couldn’t have prevented them from closing. I decided to bike back to sir’s house, which was 5 km away. We parked our bike near CBI, to look if the Indian army was waiting to bag us as soon as we reached. There was no such luck. I hopped onto the bike again, and zoomed into Sanjay Nagar. On reaching sir’s house, it was like waking up from a dream, In which, my balls had been chopped off, only to realize it was all a dream. I stumbled into his balcony. I couldn’t help closing my eyes. That’s the last I could remember. “Akshay! Get up, you both and sleep inside.” I heard Kartik sir politely saying. I struggled to get up. It was 6:30 AM. We had slept for about 3 hours. I had forgotten about the night, until I realized where I was. We woke up, handed sir the key and narrated him the story. He laughed it off. He probably didn’t imagine the magnitude of danger that was in it. I had no money on me. Akshay and me walked back. After, an almost endless walk, I reached home. I had walked 8km!
The rest is history.

Saturday, September 30, 2006 

Inglees saang.

Check this baabayy!!! It'll give Metallica a run for its money :P

Sunday, April 30, 2006 

As far as I could hark back...

How do i tell you i could spend eternity just holding on to you, just like i wish that conversation everyday would go on forever ?
Its been such fast fleets on the surface of the relationships. Now, as we move deeper, towards that eternal emotional bond, I feel a strange flame dancing along the borders of the shadow I sport.
There is a quiet elegance in a few women which by its sheer presence grabs you by the neck, squeezes your breath out and keeps the breath in between that steel cup and the fingers which hold it. This woman did just that.
Over 25 years of life in this world of immortal heartlessness. 23 years. Student. 16 years of innocence. 10 years of childhood. 2 years. Alone. Work. 4 days. Sister. An almost countless number of days spent waiting for that innocent lil kid.
Many roles. One woman. Ironic.
Once there lived a 5 year old boy. Encumbered by the desire of possessing an older soul. He cried. Alone. He tore his desires. Extinguished the flame. Wore a hard expression. His eyes were droopy, blood red and swollen. He had cried too much that night. That dark night, the one he will never forget for the rest of his life. The one night he will never get over. The longest sleepless night, that left an insomniac in him. That very night, he wrapped his wish, and buried it deep within.
11 years have passed hence. Nothing has changed. The wish has only matured. The open wound has only healed.
Those bitter tears have only etched deep memories and more desires.
A few jestful gestures during a hot summer day, unwrapped that wish again. The buried, soiled wish was gaining warmth. It came back alive.
Today, that wish is long gone. Its been clarked onto a happier note. That wish has come true. A prayer has been accounted. For the good.
Somethings in life are better earned rather than privlaged with. I earned it. Not really the hard way. But I did. Something so precious. For all life can offer, this has been my priceless possession. Thank you life. Thank you someone.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006 

Attachments -> Not just on E-mail.

Back again, with some more arbitrary thoughts intriguing by mind. The intricate human relationships and emotions have always managed to puzzle me. Death comes as an uninvited guest. The world knows what the end will hold for them. Still certain things exist that the human mind is not willing to accept. States of existence human brain cannot comprehend. Denial is predictable and natural. But why live in this illusive world on hope? Some things don’t ever hold reference to the past. Death is a case in point.

Imagine a ball. A black ball. Not subdued black, but the pitch black. Imagine a white band around the ball along its diameter. Now, imagine yourself inside this ball. Imagine feeling your hands against the cold of the black and your face against the warmth of the white. Like that, just like that, everything remains a mystery. Realities are abstract. We need to live outside this world to feel and understand certain aspects.

The darkest of the valleys hold hopes of light encroaching. When nature itself can sustain hopes, why cant we?

Your finger traces a sizzling nerve and arches my spine like the sky waits for me to penetrate. The pain spouts off my nose. You nursed my pain all my life. You wont exist anymore. The pain will etch marks on my bruised body. Leave me not, hold, let me pray. The years straddle us, and I am reaching for you, somewhere my hands are reaching into fractions of your soul; tickled, it looks out of the window into the night, and along my hands, traversing space and hand, find me. Mate! There are people around you. You have a family. Friends for eternity. They are praying. Yes. I am praying. These prayers hold promises of a longer life. Keep faith. Here, the lord seems to have a parched packet for you.

Dedicated to a friend. One of the best.

Saturday, March 18, 2006 


It was indeed a special day. The day of Ganesha Chaturti. Not much of a celebration, except for the satisfaction of feeding those old, disgraced by their kith and kin, people, in that small building. The clothes still tarnished, the beds breached with dirt.
Those yellow teacups, with piping tea dancing in the throat. With those memories washing my insides. I was sitting on that small terrace greased with soot. 6 AM in the morning, so much of action left in the day. So much to do. Drowned in responsibilities, I was still enjoying a strange sense of freedom. Today, I knew, was a new day. I knew there would be things I would learn again. I would relearn many. Still sipping the tea, looking down from the top I saw 2 old women walking past. They still live life. They still haven’t learnt enough from those 70 years of life. Fear still returns to haunt their souls. They too, are insecure. Why? Hasn’t so much living made them the experienced? Wasn’t it time for them obvious out happenings? Wasn’t it time they found nothing adventurous?
But no, they still live on hope. Hope that tomorrow will return, hope that it will bring them that essence of love and happiness they have always looked for since aeons. They still hope their sons will return to them. They still offer unconditional love. Still believe that the younger ones deserve to be forgiven. Still ward off a pain etching memory with a laugh.
Why do we live for others? Why do we ask questions which don’t have answers? Why do we bond ourselves with somebody we have only known for a day or two? Why does the loss of a relationship pain so much? Why does the loss of a beloved pierce the heart so deeply? Why don’t we just see things as they look? Why don’t we just understand the basic objective of our life? Why don’t we realize that relationships are not eternal? Why don’t we argue things out practically? Why does everything have to be so unpredictable?
Why do we have emotional reasons for all our doings?
Life cant get any easier. The yellow orange ball, sought to be immortalized for eternity by eternity, still sprouts darkness and snatches every blue of the day, the moon still rises up with a bloom.
But, there is a sense of suspense in everything. There is so much of life that needs to be nurtured with unpredictable happenings.
We live. We die. We love. We hate. We feel. We still feel. Life must carry on. All these questions need not be answered. Reality slips into abstractions to collapse dimensions.


Random jots 2

Some superb rasam rice to relish, Pink floyd playing. I sit in my room every single day. Every single night and write out some random thoughts. People ask me, “Akshay, being in 10th std, you still manage time to write?” The obvious answer – Don’t we all find time to do what we want to?
For me, writing helps, elate the mind, free it from the clutches of the body, think in extensive dimensions.
This is my blog. I write what inspires me. Some posts may not make the faintest of sense. Still I continue writing because at that point of time, it serves as an effective vent to all my emotions.
Switch those lights off. Darkness. Me and my and thoughts, trying to put them on a dimply lit monitor.. Jim Morrison classics blasting on the headphones. A word processor with a black background. Fingers gone numb typing. Those thoughts are what you see here. Those random jots are what makes my blog. Those insane thoughts, those emotions.
Just want to drown in them forever.
I don’t fancy leaving this footer, but I must indulge


Random Jots

One day before my birthday, two before my first board exam. I am sitting in front of my monitor in a dimly lit room. Pink floyd classics playing along. I am supposed to be studying. But I intend to indulge in better stuff. Maybe write some kick ass for my blog? Nah! Not in the greatest of moods. This whole hyped board exam crap seems like a bag load of shit to me. What the FUCK am I going to do with a 10th std marks card?
I would be just another brick in the wall going around for a job. Selfish motives still dawning the thoughts. Things will still stay as they are. I will just add on to the surplus.
I don’t ask questions, nor do I answer them. I don’t. Tomorrow I will be 16. An age at which interest shift from the innocent to the erotic. What have I done? People achieve so much by this time. I just managed to what just another few million people manage to do – Eat on dad’s money.
But no. I will make the difference. I will kill the monotony. Yes.

18 till I die.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006 


Sitting on that river bank
Thinking, if life will ever end
I can hear that sweet murmur of the river
Flowing miles away
Ah! Unreal
As I sit there, dragged by some inner force
I feel my heart sinking into me
I reach those dizzy heights
Flying beyond the horizon
The purple mist covers that picturesque land
Money cant buy this
Its plain peace, harmony
Away from the city lights
Into the world we dreamt of
Women don’t seem exciting anymore
Money is equivalent to neatly cut pieces of paper
Folks, we live life only once
Free your arms
Feel the world
Break the chains, experience the ambience
You don’t need marijuana to do this
Its unreal imagination and passion
Those eyes will descend with a satisfaction
A satisfaction of looking beyond boundaries
Comrades, I appeal to you
Experience life before it is too late
Slash those desires
Feel what I want you to
Come near me…Come

Sunday, February 12, 2006 


I didn't find Priyanaka Chopra with her armpit exposure. Hence the Kareena pic. I Hate both of them. Duh!
After a coniderable period of pain, I am back with a kickass article. The reason - BLUFFMASTER
Bah! I don't know what to write about
I didn't know my lovely writing skills would be completely devastated by some mundane exams
Well anyway my cousin was here the week before the last. I went over to his place to meet him
We decide to hit the theatre...The only "respectable" movie being screened was Bluffmaster
I agreed to go. We cruised along the road [well when I say cruise, I mean no to more than 50kmph...for Bangalore roads, its freakin high] On the way, Shanks bought the entire collection of FRIENDS (all seasons) and we headed towards Corner house (this is one place which serves the bestest Ice creams in the entire freakin city) I treated myself with sumptuous doses of chocolate. After the DBC, it was movie time...
A major blade on my brother's wallet. Sigh! The ticket costed us 100 bucks...
Anyway, we entered the theatre sauntered around for seats in the darkness, finally found the right seats, sat down and watched all the dumb advts [we were early, you dumbass]
Finally a sudden silence fell, yipppeeeeeeeee
The movie starts...
Well the start was pretty fine
I managed to keep my eyes open till the break [so that I could feast on some pop corn]
Till the break it all went on well with everybody praying for AB's survival. After the break I fell into deep coma. Oh yeah, it got shit boring
I would have made love with an old woman, but not seen the movie from then on because Priyanka Chopra had not fuckin shaved her armpits in that song. Phhbtt! Who the fuck finds this sensuous and exciting eh?
Whoa! How sexy to keep your dirty green armpit unshaved for years together
Hypocritical bitch!
Anyway, again the same old mind-numbing scenes float along putting me into deeper coma
Finally the end approaches. My bladder is about to burst... Sigh! That is the major issue with these 10 hour movies [it atleast seemed like 10 hrs] Junior AB is pushed from a cliff in the most dramatic manner by Nana Patekar
He is falling, falling, falling
Ah he's still in mid air...Fuckin directors don't so their basic schooling and hence come up with ass chumping movies which defy every freakin law of Physics
Finally he falls...Nop not on the ground
On a puff bed...:O
For a moment, my heart stopped beating. My bladder was numb. My fingers were all tightly closed with the middle one sticking out towards the screen. My vocab was at its best, all words washing my insides. THAT IS THE MOST PATHETIC ENDING I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE.
The dipshit runs all over the place trying to find the rest of the people
He finally reaches a place where everybody is partying and I discover that the entire movie was a "movie" in his life
Sigh! What a waste of time and energy.
Well I advice all those who are reading this to watch the movie…It will definitely help you go ahead and commit a suicide…Go ahead and decrease India’s surplus population
Enough cribbing…The movie is not worth so much of my precious time
I am outta here…..don’t forget to leave comments

Friday, February 10, 2006 

The mystery woman

‘She’ is a ravian of hope
A free spirit
A rare combination of beauty and brains
Not just another brick in the wall
One of those women
Who manages to leave an imprint
Down the highlights of the memory lane
An absolute treat to the senses
I manage to follow the footprints of the beauty
Shall keep evoking that hunger for a conversation
Inertia to write I shall stop
As she is one of those effable
Haunted by her beauty
I continue this journey of “the speechless”


Destruction of life

Life is calling
Where are you?
Lost in those dungeons of time
Waiting for light to encroach
Enter the dark, seduced place of death
Ringing in your head is a song
That the bird sang of
A beautiful Earth we were blessed with
The scul man
Destroyed the balance
That nature had established
And kept alive for so many aeons now
You destroyed what nature had carved out so dexterously
In a few minutes
Now there is only a graveyard
Of nature’s masterpiece
The “Oxygenators” are buried beneath the surface
With less than a few hundren men left
Dying to live
But nature wont show mercy
No light shall dawn this place again
The yellow orange, sought to be immortalized for eternity by eternity ball
Shall never again carry the day into the deepest blue
Shall never again source streaks of light
Dawn’s light shall never again touch the river
Music shall never exist
But these words are late
For this graveyard and especially for you
As life shall never again exist again
A ray of hope provides the warmth
A hope of life sprouting up magically
Someday it will happen
Nature will start carving again
I will come back to life

Wednesday, February 08, 2006 

Life - An Illusion

Looking beyond the horizon
Thinking of places unseen
I see a bright blue light
Shining right across
An urge to break the shell
Hitches on
Dreams bordering madness constantly
Time walks into me
Failing to reach the illusive milestone
I see my friends
Soaring high
Looking down to me
With pity and mercy
I feel myself moving lower day by day
The sky drifts away from me
I look into the shining Sun
My eyes are blinded
I continue to stare
A sudden curtain of darkness
I can see no more
I decay in this world of the dead

Saturday, February 04, 2006 


The sun is showcasing all its might
I am walking along this trodden path
People ridicule me
Laugh at me
As if I were a beggar lying nude
Just because the path I took
Was unconventional
I move on
My foot prints carted away
Desire and ambition haunt me
All unsatisfied
The music is playing in my ears
I smell the lost love
Taste the bitter essence of failure
I carry on the eternal journey
They laid the epitaph
Over my monstrous ego
And left me thoughtless
The river just carried me ahead
I don’t know where am headed
I just walk without a thought
Thirst for success will walk alongside
But am a loser
That’s what they say
I hope to reach my destination, if any
I hope, hope sustains
I hope, hope never dies…


The Journey

The journey begins
joy seems to pace away
memories crowding my mind
Happy ones
Then the bitter ones
I watch the rythm of the tears falling down
the future bekons
with its arms open
I crack open the protection
Out of the shell
Out of the pupa that the "experienced" made
The future awaits me
Thinking of those sweet memories
I taste my tears
Feel the pain of separation
no more ego
As I lie entangled in my self made tribulations
I carry on this journey of the disgraced
Hate is all am offered
Hang on to those last few strands of hope
I move on
i feel the want
the want to feel
I want to feel so hard
until I am the feeling...


The End

The wind blows across
I feel it tickle my cheek
As I close my eyes
I wash my mind with those bitter episodes
Pain dresses my soul
Dreams, desires, ambitins all sliced

Still remember
how I tore her soft
but hardning heart
Yes, she started hating me

As I close my eyes again
I can see glipmses of the "queen"
I can see all of them
Yeah, they stand right in front
Ridiculing me
watching me bleed on the thorns of life
I feel my heart go down
preparing to halt
She fades away
They fade away
They are all gone
Into crushing oblivion
My heart jolted
Shivers ran down my spine
Accepted death gracefully
One final jerk left me thoughtless
My mind went blank
I fell dead...

Thursday, January 12, 2006 

The state of a corroded soul

Life of toil comes to an end
Pain & misery is all I got
Please take me lord, please
This hurt I can bear no longer.

The day I started, a novice
Learnt things the hard way
I’ve always been the outcast
Don’t keep me waiting any longer

Life wrenched me up by my hair
Left me in a dark pit of snakes
I’ve been stung & have stung
My blood still thirsts for more

Through constant agony & shame
I’ve led this life of hate
A new soul joins this Earth
It is time for me to succumb

Misery & Vengeance – my friends in need
Revenge – the fuel
Nothing else matters
For this lust for blood gets stronger

In that 4-chambered pump of mine
Hate’s encroached upon love
Death’s infringed upon life
And a void is all that is left now

Fellowmen, make death your goal
Love, your nemesis
Virtuousness, a thing of your past
All you need is gumption & the resolve

Become a martyr for hate & anger
Never let love reign over you
It deserts you in an abyss of grief
Scraping out is an arduous task of a millennium

You’re the unforgiven
For your deeds took you there
Anarchy prevails in your mind
Your heart gives in to the pleasures of the dead

You’ll find yourself where I am now
You’ll find yourself where I’ll be tomorrow
You’ll find yourself broken by the world
You’ll find yourself, back arched, at the guillotine

About me

  • I'm Traveling Flipflops
  • From Bangalore, Karnataka, India
  • If you are dumb, you get raped.
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