Sunday, December 1, 2013

Right on time

Some times in my life
I live with a mask of despair Wondering For all the sins I’m yet to commit As the gallows of those lonely hours Keep swinging against the dusky rays To come into another day Of emptiness
I keep turning round and round Trying to catch just a glimpse of you Torn Between wanting a smile on your face Or a tear in your eye to see if you care No matter how many time I hear you say That you love me Is not just enough to be complete
There have been fools who have tried To clean the clocks of destiny Bleeding As they see the world worsen to change Smiles of the innocent children lost And the money changing loose hands So what is our sacrifice worth? Against all that…

Bleeding out, sick and tired of fighting the world entire...

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Wait a Minute -

If I'm diagnosed with split personality - am I entitled to more than one FACEBOOK account?


Somewhere, sometime in the many random arguments I've had I maintained that where originality fails, fashion recycles - and its happening again. I'm actually looking forward to black and white, on screen cigarettes, corsets, bohemian and beatnik revolutions. 

Thursday, August 8, 2013


The strange part about a gun is that its a straight shooter. Guns don't pick sides. Now, the men behind it are a different matter all together. So what it comes to is this. Pick a side, don't deliberate... 

Saturday, July 20, 2013

One Night

Slowly, strangely, I feel as if I am disappearing.
Perhaps the ambiguity of never even existing
Where did I begin? Wherever do I end,
Maybe there is nothing much at first,
To consider or even think,
For that matter itself,
Slowly, strangely, I feel as if I am disappearing.
Perhaps the chance of having a single dream,
What of it ? Who might understand?
Maybe its better not to look forward,
For that very thought,
Slowly, strangely, I feel as if I am disappearing.
Perhaps you have known me for a short while,
Who are you? Who am I?
Maybe its not meant to be,
To even care,
Slowly, strangely, I feel as if I am disappearing.

Wishing Upon A Fallen Star

To those stars that burn bright
and few that fall,
I wish upon you for the little I ask,
To those dreams I dreamt many
Like you have stumbled and fall'd;
And as twilight turns to darkest dark
I gaze on your last fiery crescendo,
In hope to have not only my eynes
But many;
May they see you to grace
and fulfill a simple wish that I dared,
My prayer to you lies simple and true -
Have all of them solemn wishes
Turn fate to destiny for those eyes
As they close in reverence to you.

Quote of the Day

You will hear people say that poverty is the best spur to the artist. They have never felt the iron of it in their flesh. They do not know how mean it makes you. It exposes you to endless humiliation, it cuts your wings, it eats into your soul like a cancer.

W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965)

Saturday, July 13, 2013

Early Morning Rants 1

Fuck you, Youtube. No, seriously. FUCK YOU!
I will not give you 31 seconds of my life for every video I watch.
I will not give you even 5 seconds of my life before I skip to the music I wanna hear
I would like to be given a choice whether or not I would or would like to skip
For that very matter!!!
YOU tube it up your ass before you decide squat for me!

With Regrets,

P.S - I swear if I get peeved again I will exile you from my eyes for the rest of my life!

Tuesday, July 9, 2013


If you can understand it
its a song,
If not,
Its a poem.

Stringing words together is harder than living....

Sunday, July 7, 2013

Writing - Ask Questions?

Over the years in those many pages that I've been writing, I've stumbled and fumbled for a word or a sentence here and there. Sometimes the matters were a little more complicated and I found myself wanting in between a story. Its a horrible feeling. I trust you know.

However, I also noticed a there is always a method - which I ignore before I resort to madness and burn the entire thing. As a reference note for the future, here are a few questions that might help pave the way.

What is the story about? - The first and foremost question. Followed by - Whose story is this.

Every story has a beginning and a end. But that is never the problem. Its the middle that quirks the mind. No matter how much plot planning or set ups are followed, there is always a booby trap I fall into. Lets take the matters into hands and observe the questions of life which can be applied.

One of my favorite elements like most writers is the fascination of death. Murder, mayhem, disease, tragedy, accident - ah, so many ways to kill a character.

What kills John Doe?
Is it dangerous? Is there a risk of contagion? Is there a cure? Is so, how to acquire?

There is a story there itself as you figure the answers. Worked for me.

Who killed John Doe?
Who is the murderer? Who was John Doe? Why is he necessary? Is he expendable? What is the relationship between John Doe and Mr. X? What is Mr. X's motive? What could be said about his modus operandi? What are the clues left behind? Who would read it and chase after Mr.X?

I'm sure by now its the goal of Mr. Hero to save the day by asking how and why Mr. X commit such a offense to mankind and society. The best way is to activate thought provoking objectives and dialogue, inner and outer the self of any of the above mentioned characters. Complexities are always welcome.

The Hero's Journey -

Allow another hazard - what drives Mr. Hero? Could he be protecting someone he loves? Or is he fuels from some past tragedy or inner demon? Where does Mr.Hero come in? What is his goal? What lies in the way of the said goal? What are his qualities that make him different from the rest? What are his flaws and how does it find him wanting? Every hero needs a quest. No matter what the age. 

But that is the matter of fiction!
What if I wish to come closer to life? What are the wants of an individual to come to self actualization? What drives personal satisfaction? - Notice that asking these very questions drives you automatically in first person which makes the story personal not only to the writer but the reader as well who is forced into self introspection. Just don't make the mistakes I do, and keep a strong romantic drive. Nothing fuels a good book or a film like a girl or a gun. I unfortunately choose the gun.

Again, the most important question;

Whose story is it? Who is the protagonist? Is there an antagonist? If so, who? Deuteragonist? Tritagonist?

Romantic Interest - Who is she? What does she want? Whats her problem?

Generally the questions I ask when I come across a lass - I think I now understand why I remain unlucky in that aspect.

What makes her strong? What keeps her strong? What is her goal? What is standing her way? Focus on inner monologues - women are intuitive in that way.

Who chases who? Why? For what? What are the odds?

The traditional Love Story -
 the course of true love is always set on the path of difficulties and tragedies. Take a look at Shakespeare. He's a genius in that way. Juliet feigns death - Romeo must die. Viola must test her mans worth?

Who is he? Who is she? Do birds of a feather flock together? or, Do opposites attract? So what makes them a match made in heaven? Or hell? Are they star crossed lovers? What pulls them together? What takes them apart? What are the difficulties set their way? How do they overcome it? Do they make ends meet?

Now that we are through with the characters, lets look at the plot.

Where and when does the story take place? Whose story is it? Who are the friends? Is there family involved?

The Human Condition: What is childhood like? What does it mean growing up? What gives anger, pain, frustration, grief, sorrow, jealousy, hostility, enmity -

Basic Human emotions - Joy, Sorrow, Fear, Anger - even the most complex of emotions fall in these categories. Go figure. The best part is that life is stranger than fiction. People are impulsive, they are like dice that throw themselves in the direction of their choosing. 

Wednesday, June 26, 2013


For the sole sake of consideration, a hammer and a gun are nothing more than tools. Its purpose and the intent of it is what defines it. For instance, if you take the gun to hunt and forage it becomes a tool or moreover an instrument of survival. But if you take the hammer to kill your fellow man, it becomes a weapon.

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Clothes have more effect upon us than we imagine. Our deportment depends upon our dress.
Jerome K. Jerome (1859-1927)

Leather suit?

Monday, June 17, 2013

Tea? Coffee? Cigarettes?

Brittle, prattle little china,
Sitting shiny in a huff,
It is tea and sugary,
Sip my dear and answer,
Is the world entire in a cup?

Brown almond eyes, red lips
Rose petals, dove white snow
Quick as lightning, silver tongue
Simple woman, mother of pearl
One kiss, summer in dreams.

Faces long, tired and anguished
Nobody knows where they go
As time slips and it ebbs
Deeper within as the blood flows
Like always, sheer silence in pretense.

Bread sticks, and tomato soup
Bit of butter to make it better
Always warm, always fulll
A strangers hand though be sour
But love's touch be ne'er wrong.

Red I Pray, Blue I Stay

Roses have wilted with the coming winter,
much of life has withered and died.
I have been sitting here for sometime now,
Waiting and watching, reckoning on
Everything that I gaze upon, strangely;
The world itself seems turning blue
Breaking into my sight of very reality.
Before I am too far gone and lost;
Even the chimes of church bells once jubiliant,
seem to echo the throes of a widows tears,
if there be something as nothingness.
It is still enough for any of us to hold on to,
on my purpose, and no hope nor prayers;
can stop my breath as it turns to
a rattle of that life, all which is left.

Friday, June 14, 2013

Grand Finale

So today was the last act for me and the final day at school. What I haven't mentioned is that I've been studying theatre and drama for some time now. My last act....

Yes. That was my last act and it came with many realizations...

One. I'm tired. So tired of even trying. Even though I met some good people.


I'm all alone in this world. It doesn't matter if I have some intelligence. Its nothing more than a defense mechanism.

There are no friends either. Fact is, they'd eat your food, drink your water and still abuse you on your face. Nothing really matters...

As far as I'm concerned...

Tonight, friday night... sitting sober for a first is anew. Here comes my beginning... may I be born again...

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

The Most Epic Love Story

I'll see you on the server! :D

Monday, June 10, 2013

Bored, Bored, BORINGLY BORED!!!

Somebody get me a gun and a hollow point!

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Creatures of its own Misgiving

Isn't it marvelous that animals are simply ruled by their instinct and have no sense of time or its limitations, whereas human beings on the other hand; highly evolved and at the first rung of the chain take their entire lives looking at the clock, a fallacy of their own invention. Forever in fear, governed by an empirical constant, living with the knowledge of death with every breath.

Even the development of the mind and intellect seems nothing more than a defense mechanism, and we be farther and steadfast had we lived for the moment we look for which is the simplicity of impulse and sponteneity. Maybe I could go far enough to say that the human brain, reasoning and thought is nothing more than a hindrance. Considering the collective information it is ruled by, even the individuality is lost to duality of hypocrisy and that originality we seek is stoppered by the very question why and what.

My vow lies in a simply understanding where I am to live as if I'm already dead and I know when that moment comes it would be nothing more than waking up from a dream. 

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Ode to the Water of Life

I can't find my voice, there is a void in me
Must hold on to my mind and memories
Defenses taking over, heed to my slights
So must live,
I should find a bottle and hide
and watch it slide down and empty
When my world burns
Therein even the freeze turns to warm lights
Eitherwhichway the goblet stays full
Or I be empty drowning in my own brood
The currency I understand and must
Necessarily swallow me whole
For I am parched, as is my very soul
and there can be no love for me, tenderness even
My respite resides in stale rye, malt or mead.


Tuesday, March 19, 2013


I'm sitting in class,
and I'm to perform the prior post as a monologue,
Clock is ticking,
So people, wish me luck...

Oedipus Monologue

You shall,
If things are as I see them, you are the first
To whom I would tell my story. Listen then,
My father was a Corinthian, Polybus;
My mother a Dorian, Merope. At home
I rose to be a person of some pre eminence;
Until a strange thing happened - a curious thing -
Though perhaps I took it to heart more than it deserved.
One day at a table, a fellow who had been drinking deeply
Made bold to say I was not my fathers son.
That hurt me;
But for the time I suffered in silence
As well as I could.
Next day I approached my parents and asked them to tell me the truth.
They were bitterly angry
That anyone should dare to put a story about;
And I was relieved.
Yet somehow the smart remained;
And a thing like that soon passes from hand to hand,
So, without my parents knowledge, I went to pytho;
But came back disappointed to any answer,
 To the question I asked;
having heard instead a tale of horror and misery:
How I must marry my mother,
and become the parent of a misbegotten brood,
An offense to all of mankind - and kill my father.
At this I fled away, putting the stars
Between me and Corinth, never to see home again,
that no such horror should ever come to pass,

My journey brought me into the neighborhood where
Your late king met his end.
Listen, my wife:
This is the truth.
When I came to the place where three roads join, I met
A herald followed by a horse-drawn carriage, and a man
Seated therein, just as you have described,
The leader roughly ordered me out of his way;
and his venerable master joined in with a surly command.
It was the driver that thrust me aside, him I struck,
For I was angry.
The old man saw it, leaning from the carriage,
Waited until I passed, then, seizing for weapon,

the drivers two pronged goad, struck me on the head,

He paid with interest for his temerity;
Quick as lightning, the staff in this right hand did its work;
he tumbled headlong out of the carriage,
and every man of them there I killed.

But now,
if the blood of Laius ran in this strangers vein,
Is there any more wretched mortal than I, more hated,
By God and man?
It is I whom no strange, no citizen must take to his house;
I whom none may speak; on me is the curse
That none but I have laid.
His wife! - these hands that killed him have touched her!
Is this my sin?
Am I not utterly foul?
Banished from here, and in my banishment
debarred from home and from my fatherland,
Which I must shun forever, lest I live,
To make my mother my wife, and kill my father...
My father... Polybus, to whom I owe my life.
Can it be any but some monstrous God
of evil that has sent this doom upon me?
O never, never, holy powers above,
May that day come!
May I be sooner dead
and blotted from the face of the Earth,
than live to bear the scars of such vile circumstance...


Sunday, March 17, 2013

Quotes of the Day

I am returning this otherwise good typing paper to you because someone has printed gibberish all over it and put your name at the top.

Unknown English Professor

The artist's only responsibility is his art. He will be completely ruthless if he is a good one.... If a writer has to rob his mother, he will not hesitate: The "Ode on a Grecian Urn" is worth any number of old ladies.


Writing is a struggle against silence.

Carlos Fuentes 

What no wife of a writer can ever understand is that a writer is working when he's staring out of the window.

Burton Rascoe

When once the itch of literature comes over a man, nothing can cure it but the scratching of a pen. But if you have not a pen, I suppose you must scratch any way you can.

Samuel Lover

Friday, March 15, 2013

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Quote of the Day

I think you are wrong to want a heart. It makes most people unhappy. If you only knew it, you are in luck not to have a heart.

L. Frank Baum (1856-1919)

A Lover Lost

Waiting and watching, praying even
for the clock to tick back to that time
When I could breathe, or even see
My own reflection that speaks to me
But to you, I'd be but your shadow...

Film Ideology

Get them by the heart, and they will empty their pockets... now that's film.

Studying Characters

Honey, I'm home!!!

Did you miss me? Di d y a M I S S m u a?

Bet you did. My apologies, I was out on a character study, where I had taken up residence at a village just on the borders of Delhi - Haryana called Jaithpur. My own little piece of heaven.

What was I doing there?

I had taken the odd job of a motorcycle mechanic where I got to learn a lot. How to be at peace with myself, forget the humdrum stressful acts of city life, gaze at the horizon, speak less and listen more, figure out new ways to take cases, talk the talk and walk the walk, banter around all the time, comedy skills; what more, I got to learn how to change oil, wash and polish bikes, dismantle and reassemble engines, basic services, the use of tools and worse even, how to steal bikes.

Woot! Yes, I'm very happy with myself.

More to come, with pictures. Be prepared... or be square.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

The Night of the Wandering Mystic

Yesterday was Shivaratri, the night of Shiva, the mystic, the philosopher, and arguably the greatest God of the Hindus. Shiva is the creator and the destroyer, and the embodiment of everything in this universe, good or bad.
Shiva is loved not only because for his great qualities, but also the fact that he has normal human traits such as anger, love, and of course his addiction to marijuana.

Now to the night. Keeping awake all through it is said to be particularly good as the vibrations in the air are said to be electric. The ancient Hindus were keen astronomers, and it is said that the planetary positions can explain the energy which is felt on this night. Temples look and feel otherworldly, the people are uninhibited, and there is joy and mirth all around.

And I have first hand experience. What I'll say is music definitely helps!
I am so energized right now that I'm going for a jog!

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Remarkable people worth knowing

Well first post..
Almost all of us like Che Guevara, we've all seen The motorcycle diaries and felt inspired by it, haven't we?

But there's a little story of Che in India which I'd like to share.

Also, another post about the one of the world's most craziest sportspersons. This guy was a cricketer, a serial  womanizer, and a World War 2 hero; so you can see where this is going!


Please welcome a new author and admin to the blog, Adi...

He's a great friend of mind, and a wealth of knowledge. From here on please expect a variety of posts from poetry, all that is rhetoric to a new world of all that is true and beautiful.

A good man once said, it takes a wise man to recognize another...

Once more, a warm welcome!!!

Quotes of the Day

Everything has been thought of

Everything has been thought of before, but the problem is to think of it again.




You don't believe that? I didn't either. Till I saw "Good Will Hunting" followed by the discovery of Diogenes the Cynic.



The writer should never be ashamed of staring. There is nothing that does not require his attention.

Flannery O'Connor


What pains you

Look for a long time at what pleases you, and longer still at what pains you.


Where History and Fiction Meet...

Does history and fiction meet? Very often! In books, in theatre, in films, puts a hole in every pocket which is why its wonderful.

There is history, and there is a story. It shouldn't be his story. And the past should not be used as thousand island salad dressing where the salad is your plot. It won't hide the fact that the cucumber (read the human condition) has not been worked on and is left plain bitter. You can always take facts and make a fantasy. Or you can use fantasy to state facts.

Why do thrive in duality. Its the virtue of a write. The quote in the prior post really seems to have inspired me.

Times have changed enough and the world has turn too many times to have any accuracy free of bias and prejudice. No matter how many books by n number of intellectuals would end up shaping your perspective in a narrow parallel than having a free mind or endow a semblance of an imagination.

Stories of the past can be put to modern times, just as well as modern times can be put to the past. Think of those nuances which still lie common to the society of today and that of an era past. No, I would suggest you much on that. Work on it. Use your imagination. Chances are you might just peep into the souls of legends like Alexander Dumas, Charles Dickers, Jane Austen, Maria Corelli and ever Poe. My personal favorites. More? Alright, Oscar Wilde and Rudyard Kipling. Hunting tigers in exotic India turned them to poets and story tellers. Location, Location, Location? Or soul?

What is the brightest fact about the characters mentioned above? Instead of writing about characters idolized by them as I do now, they wrote on characters that were original, with a rich back story and nuances, and set in a highly richly researched atmosphere with a vivid background. Those dates and years that you hates most during History 101 would only play to tell the story and give room to conflict. Either which allowing freedom to the writer, and exploration as well as rhetoric knowledge to the reader. Works!

I'm not saying don't write about Mata Hari if you want to, because she exists and you might stumble for facts. I'm saying be wise and care and know when to juxtapose facts with fiction.

If you are a stranger to those fat books as me, a simple google search works, a light read of wiki and not to mention those ever so good children's books that make the most boring detail of history fun and learning. I did that with sci fi too. I don't know how nuclear power works, nor did I wanted to pose as an authority. A simple children's book titles "Tell Me Why?" sorted me out. If you get interested and desire to take a bigger challenge, move for journals, bios, letters, paintings, portraits, pictures, antiques or worse, choose a word peculiar to that era and cherche and recherché all you like. On Various concepts even. Read books by other writers on the similar timelines of your choosing and there is the prize.


You have just time travelled with your mind.

Writing on Writing to Remember

Alright. What really makes a character? His trait or his aspirations. All of them true. All of them false. In my view, its the goal and the obstacles that are strategically strewn ahead of him.

Is it plot driven character? Or a character driven plot? Could be either. Could be both. Experiment. As long as the content and the matter really matters. To you, and then to your intended audience. Be free to ask questions. Who, What, Why, Where, When and How!!! This is will at least make sure there is a solution to every problem and your character won't walk away leaving you in a block where you might scream "fudge, fudge, fudge". Yes, I'm sentimental to chocolate and the erstwhile whisky. Both...

Ante up and RAISE! En guard and raise hell.

Andy, can be normal or extreme depending on the circumstance. He could be moral or ethical. But does he really need heroic qualities? Would it really help your audience identify with him, knowing that everyone wants to save the day. Sometimes it works, sometimes it won't. Seeing that scenario, why not ante up.

Why think of heroes when there are antiheroes or byronic heroes. Google search that! Why think in the lines of a protagonist against an antagonist when you can have an entire range of characters in the likes of deuteragonist and tritagonists. Wiki that. Before you lose that site forever. Please donate...

So Andy is a film director, but he has no cash on him. After making a few short films he's been lost for a while and the debts are piling up. Should he rob a bank, risk arrest and charge and be behind bars forever? Cliche! Should he have a cancer ridden lover to make it justified. Double cliche. I'd rather him stealing credit cards from family and friends alike, putting all and nothing on that film he keeps talking about; have him turn tyrannical and conflict with every individual there is on the set (because he's inwardly scared of success) including getting caught by those he stole from and getting burnt or worse ostracized until the film turns to be a stupendous journey and the reels and cans are burnt in a disastrous fire. But whatever he salvages still wins him an award with enough respect to have a chance again; alongside atonement. Could be the same film with a bigger budget, or a whole new dimension. I'd avoid stereotypes and caricatures. In my perspective, it is not only close to reality but beyond it and works evermore. The range of motivations and emotions alone keeps it compelling.

Do you ever sit on a chair and rock it back, even though you know with the weight there is a good chance the chair might tip back and chance you a nasty fall? Especially that very moment when it does happen and its hanging midway, nor forward nor back and you have your arms flailing, blood pounding and prepared for that fall! But suddenly you come back relieved. I like that feeling. I'd hold on to that. Hard. Hurts. Cruel. Fate. But. Return


Quote of the Day

Double living

Writing, I think, is not apart from living. Writing is a kind of double living. The writer experiences everything twice. Once in reality and once in that mirror which waits always before or behind.

Catherine Drinker Bowen

Pick Up Line

We should have a 3some,
You, me and the mirror,
Chances are you might be ignored.



Stay put, more one liners coming right up. I'm just getting ready to write so just a few exercises. Review please, don't be a silent audience...


Swallow your pride,
Eat your shame,
Shit your ego out!



Sorry, I had to write that. Just made sense to me for sometime now...

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Coffee and Cigarettes

Driving on and making miles
No care nor no heed of these times
Even the needle has forgotten numero zero
for the auburn horizon, new worlds;
Staring at the many monuments and
the ever wandering citizens,
Burning cigarettes and coffee brewing
Sugared with the rays of the sun,
Meshed with the songs and the howls
Of them ever faithful prairie dogs,
Never like any other soul,
Each and all spitting against the wind,
Call me a gypsy or caste me bohemian,
For a man lives free only and if,
He lives far from his memories,
Wandering forever simply for his bereft love
In search forever and more,
For the very voice, the call of his soul.

Rust / Mire of my Dreams

Bit by bit, the years go by
Moments fade, each in its own tide,
I have known fate and tasted of its blade,
Rust against the blood on my tongue,
Walking on the thin spire of my dreams
My feet tread heavy, blistered and beat
In a single naked moment of insanity,
This world has reigned in my very spirit
And raked right through my soul,
For I know not happiness,
or misery even,
But bit through my heart,
And turned it to stone.
Living for the last, committed to die,
Where did it go? Where do I hide?

Sunday, March 3, 2013

To the Streets

Last friday, me and my group took to the initiative regarding the subject discussed in the prior post to the very streets. We joined the traditions of two millenniums and composed a street play entitled with the subject of "National Integrity". This was then performed by us, on the streets with the help of a daffli (a kind of a drum) and two spoons that I clanged for rhythm and beats. Pure street theater.,-%D0%BC%D1%83%D0%B7%D0%B8%D0%BA%D0%B0!/%D0%94%D0%B0%D0%B9%D1%80%D0%B5.html

India - A Socialist, Sovereign, Secular, Democratic, Republic.

Act - 1

All have the right to enter any monument of worship regardless of religion or creed.

Act - 2

Love conquers all.

Yes, we were very nervous but it all faded when the crowd surrounded us. It was magical. We performed it twice in a single day. A good day's work, thank you...

Monday, February 25, 2013

Pan India

How many more instances must we suffer before the very image of a nation becomes a blur in the fog of the capital city or perhaps the mud and puddle of these unforeseen winter rains. Too many vindictiveness and crimes have been committed where even the heaven above us weeps at what we have made of our land and nation. Here lies my thought and tribute to my mother and my deepest of love.

Allow me a moment to introduce my very existence before I take your attention to my speech. I'm just as lost as any on this land, born unto and till death imprinted to the soil. I have eaten and played on the very grain of sand of which I speak. I have seen all the four corners, interacted with various communities from their habits to their linguistics, and more so studied the various religions to the point where I had once locked myself in a monastery to find a certain sense of peace and patriotism only their walls can provide.

Each and every community has developed their own heritage, culture, language and habits and now stands independent with its own sense of loyalty. Considering the National Anthem of Punjab, Sindh, Gujrat, Maratha, Dravid and so and forth erstwhile conquests of the British Rule and Wars of Divide and Rule; we still stand divided even today. I believe that charity begins at home and we should respect the fact that though each of us have our own mother tongue and heritage, we should forget why the country is one after all. A socialist, sovereign, secular, democratic republic. If you need to consider these words or even google it, I suggest you adhere to the civic textbooks of the nearest child to you. Because I ask speak of further evils that plague and pillage this rich terrain. For instance, the division of family values for the avarice of wealth and property, father against son, brother against brother, son and wife against the elderly. Or even worse, discrimination on the basis of caste, religion or worse sex.

Where be our martyrs and patriots who time and time again have sacrificed themselves for us? Though we struggle with our independence after years of governance by foreign powers, we have shackled our very being to the likes of uneducated political groups whose leaders outrightly treat us and worse publicly call us cattle or servants. Whats worse? He is still in power even after the evidence of the very fact being played and replayed on national television!

Were we better off with the Greek-Mecedonian armies of MegaAlexandros, or the Ghaznis, Tughlaqs, Iranians, Turks, Mongols, or the Guptas, Kanishkas, the Mughals, the Marathas, the Rajputs or perhaps we can keep that monarchy to the past and strive for equality and ask for justice? Every citizen can strive for it considering the thematic impact of equality and demand that our governing powers be prosecuted for its misdemeanors. Every state and community must play its part. Please understand that I'm not playing on communism or any "isms" for that matter, political means, or other such favor. Our nation is too massive, diverse and heterogeneous for any of them to have a part to play. 

On another note, allow me a lame old joke. 

I believe in equal opportunities as well as enjoying privileges that come free...
Does that make me communist?
But I also believe in myself and defending my right and pride as a man with the strength of my back...
Does that make me anarchist?
But I would like to change some laws for the betterment of society and the greater good...
Does that make me fascist?
Even more so, I prefer the concept of money which everyone agrees on free of bias for luxury...
Does that make me capitalist?
Nevertheless, we all agree to disagree and a point is a youthful virtue...
Democracy has failed.

Every individual has a part to play. And if there be equality, which I believe in most, it would be much easier. Even education reaches every nook and corner, no child or family goes hungry, the nation strives for the betterment of the society by the means of reward deserving of a modern state stemming down the flow of the "brain-drain", manage and utilize our natural resources with the consideration that it belongs to the people and not to an individual or a group, perhaps I wouldn't be writing here questioning and demanding reason. 

Please put a stop to the ads and campaigns of the leaders and powers every which where with the voice that never delivers but only adds to the pollution burning my eyes. Please exclude momentary lapses of reason and words that pits man on man, community against community, religion against religion and perhaps engage in the fact that we can all be happier if we treat others and respect as we ask for ourselves. Forget engaging in the building of more religious moments and perhaps adhere to the words of the text and clean up the filth in the streets and rivers and see that no one goes hungry or suffers and lives in misery. No child should wait on another. No one should be uprooted for any reason creating a loss of identity. And perhaps, considering that honor and pride lies in saving another's life instead of resorting to killing. 

And now I will wait on the two most beautiful words in the english language, an "Indian Summer". Take that quote widget!!!


They came to the world to create harmony
And so evolved what we come to call
The society
Amidst the blooming days, the sunny skies
The innocent, the wild and dreams of paradise


So many questions are asked to what we call our life. A path to walk as the clock ticked within the hours. Another that came to light in the crust of our shadows. And a fork to every day that comes to pass tomorrow.

There was the silhouette of the boy that stood glancing to the moon with the dance of a smirk on his lips. An expression of those battles that clashed in him, waging a war against his intellect inflicted on the heart. It was a peaceful night. The clouds were like mirrors in the sky reflecting the tales of heaven beckoning the children of the sleeping angels. There were the feathers that turned to the serenity glowing like ambers to the rising passion in the musing of dreams. And then there were some that laid forgotten amidst the din of the frolicking faces and the small laughs.

To the evenings that were lost to the charcoal that struck against the paper, the fingers that brushed in a tender gesture to give light to the thoughts that passed by, was to be devoted to the pursuit of giving an answer to the world. This was where he was asked to belong.

The lights lit the apartment full of people waiting to drown themselves in jostling words of each other to celebrate. The hosts were a loving couple whose new found happiness in each other called the reason of the joyous celebration.

But just as they say for the very thought of innocence, nothing lasts forever.


The Unknown

It is never the soldier who chooses his grave,
Somehow as time beckons, the grave itself comes to the soldier

The Boy who Married Darkness


Is it a color? No. Yet it is the color of darkness. Also, it is not a color but a shade. So it is nothing but the very characteristic of darkness. I know her well. She is a part of me.

Most would say I'm being very ambiguous of it. If only they would see me now. There are many people that live on the borders of the natural. Yet with the hands of fate binding us in this realm here where we go about our daily lives fond of familiarity oblivious of time, how could we recognize the known from the unknown.

With narrow minds we only distinguish white from black, shades from hues, light from dark, and perhaps attach good or bad or ugly to the lost souls on this very planet.

Oh how well it all connects together here that lie rambling about the gift of nothingness and oblivion. Perhaps my very life and my everyday fear.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

This Week

I'd be performing with my group in another street play on the 1st of March at Select City Walk Saket, Delhi. If you're up for it, please follow up.


Street Performance

So I've taken to theatre again, and this time I'm returning to the basics. We did a small performance for children on Friday and it came across pretty well. Mostly because we achieved without much of a stage or prop, and it was an anti ragging/ bullying campaign.

Ironically I took the role of a bully who reforms.

Storyline was simple. In a classroom of students of different communities, there is still a division bell. The group that is docile and performs well in studies against the students that are rowdy and always up to mischief. The teacher is lenient and it always ends badly. The moment his back is turned, somebody gets thwacked.

The bully goes back home and his misbehavior continues until one day he comes across his mother who is treated as badly by her peers at work as he does to his fellow mates.

It went well. The children identified with all the performers and more so, they laughed at every instance and every joke that was thrown. A small success. Woot!

Saturday, January 26, 2013


Alright, so far you've imprisoned yourself in the many ways you found inviting
From the corps drill to the resonance of art
Ergo forever searching for yourself
But never there and found wanting, waiting and impatient
Little by little, losing inhibitions for that wishful change
The mirrored cavern of a soul
bequeathed of a new realm
For never more and never there...


I shall call you with a name, a given name in my own tongue
and from here on and forth you as my own
In a this world as with each days passing
I hold on to my sanity
And the very levity of falling thus
Me very own Battlemaiden
Leaving me a mage to find a safa
Where the voice and the sharpness of words
May douse fire and melt ice
in harmony to forge a path and a way
far from men and their desires
each fallen numb as they tuck tail and run
ruled by their sorrows and rice
We shall never return
Knowing that once what is done
or undone
Can never be the same again
So whenever you forget colors for them blues
Remember the ode and music of life
A power yours forever to behold
As Poetry be nothing more than an orphan of silence

What happened to Cinema...

I'm going back to school in a few days. The strange part is that I'm looking forward to it...

Now, I have been noticing films for sometime now and the mighty strange part that I've observed is that most of them seem to be remakes on the hits of the last era. You name it and its there. I'm walking through The Karate Kid as of now. LaRusso is getting kicked.

It went for a remake starring Jackie Chan and Jaden Smith. With the strong emphasis on Kung Fu and practically the same storyline and plot, I wonder why they still called it The Karate Kid. The horror of it is that they waited exactly 16 years for it. That was a nice for a laugh seeing that they take such precautions not to cross the line of copyright infringement.

I guess as the saying goes.

A publish would simply love to publish all the work from last that were hit this year, and just cut the losses.

Whatever happened to -

If there is a book you want to read, a film or a work of art you wish to see and it's not there; then it is your duty and responsibility to make it!

Ah too much TV... Alright, change of topic so I'll be moving on the next post. Time for some of my latest writ.

Of Mice and Men

Next time, get the name right... and I wonder why you always seem like such a little man when it came to my being. Really, I used to look up to when I was a kid. Now I wonder why...

Thursday, January 17, 2013


Seriously, how many more heads must loll before action is taken. This is evidently a stunt to terrorize and bring down the morale of the troops and civilians alike. What is the government doing? What is the United Nations doing? Nothing. Talk about either being impotent. Its a just way to call them with that adjective. I'm a nobody, but hands haven't stopped shaking ever since I'm put all these thoughts to writ. The more I learn about it, the downward spiral grows.

Its cold and its been raining for sometime now. The skies had darken as well. Even heaven resonates to such atrocities. But I keep telling myself, this is not a time to weep. This is not a time to grieve. This is not a time to lose wits either. I will not succumb to despair. I'm pissed, I will rage. And believe me its way more helpful than losing your nuts...


What of the grieving widows, their children, their families and relatives as of now. How would you answer them or look them in the eye considering what they did to the corpses of our jawans? Is it just a report that says "Killed In ACTION"?

No Man's Land

There is retribution and there is vendetta. Everyday, every moment there are men being hunted on the borders. Our soldiers, who protect us from violence so we can have a peaceful nights rest and contribute to the economy. I hate to say this, knowing my affinity for peace, but we have been at war with our neighbors since 1947 on both sides.

There is limit to all. When their men cross that threshold and continue provocations, there has to someone to a put a stopper to it. This is not a moment of calling cease fire. Even amongst enemies there is a refrain of dignity and honor. At least to those that died, beyond the knowledge of medals and body bags.

Please, please, please don't give in to terrorism and vile threats. Take a call, and do it now.

This has gone beyond the Geneva Convention, and UN. Matters have to be taken in our own hands for this is beyond getting personal. Irony is that so far, we have tried to make peace. Their sports teams were in the country for that very aspect. This is how we were paid back when we said "not enemies, but friendly competition."

Friday, January 11, 2013

Quotable Quotes

Be what you would seem to be - or, if you'd like it put more simply - never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.

Lewis Carroll

Thursday, January 3, 2013


See how life turns. I'm on Modern Warfare and its been ages since I held a joystick. I'm back on beginners luck. Lol. Or that's a laugh. I've been out of touch with the world lately.

And myself included.

So far , my thoughts really have been warped. I got logged out of the game because I'm writing. Ha. Kicked for In activity.

I've ignored the blog for a while.

Weapon of Choice

I like -

The Dragunov SVD

The Cheyenne Tactical




Wednesday, January 2, 2013

The Getaway

Its the turn of a new century.

And I've just been wondering where I'd been had I truly believed in myself. See, So far I thought I did. As of now, I'm a worried man.

But then, since its the coldest night in Delhi, after all the mayhem, I'm down a bottle of brandy and the reason just flows.


Its not about having cash, or material even. I write and now to remind myself of the one premise -

 Had you own a ship, where would you go...

The same for a good pair of shoes,

Or a car....

Or a crew even....