But seriously

2009-10-10T11:45:00.000-07:00

2009-10-10T11:35:00.000-07:00

2009-08-12T10:51:00.000-07:00

2009-07-16T06:38:00.000-07:00

hey boredom,
you are so easy
striking when you please - morning, evening and night

hey boredom
aren't you bored of stopping people going out, doing things they otherwise would?
Can you imagine a world, free our your evil spell?

Boredom, you so don't discriminate.
Black, white, yellow, we are all fallible, and you know that only too well
and deeper and deeper you reside if not given a early shrug.

hey boredom don't be happy
a day shall come. when mankind will get the will to throw you out for good.
when governments will work, when excuses will be forgotten, when life will seem a whole lot brighter.

until then boredom, have your laugh
but the very men who've been enslaved by you
shall tomorrow discover vigour and spine.

Not to be led to laters and tomorrows.
A world full of action, as you silently watch them rush by
Helpless, but too lazy to do anything.

2008-07-27T09:30:00.000-07:00

A fish called Toughie – based on a true story.

Today is Toughie’s biggest test. He’s fighting between life and death. He’s there because of me. But I’m gunning for him to stay true to his name and fight his way back.

Two days earlier my eyes noticed Toughie. His once pristine and clean world was in shambles. Murky, dark, dreary and without food, still Toughie was doing fine. Seemed like he’d made some sort of quiet peace with his predicament. Cold and abandoned, Toughie took it all on his chin, without saying a word.

Right then I, with all right intentions decided to clean up Toughie’s world once and for all. To prove to him that there was still hope in this world. What happened was just the opposite.

I set out to clean the tank that was Toughie’s home. I emptied the filthy water but Toughie not understanding my intentions jumped out to save his life (I wish he hadn’t). There he was on the cold basin tile, gasping for air. I couldn’t afford to waste a single second. I quickly grabbed at his tail. But Toughie is a slippery customer. He wriggled himself free. A quick struggle ensued before finally I managed to put him in a standby jar, while I quickly cleaned the aquarium.

Tediously I washed his glass home and all the props inside. Toughie was going to be happy I said to myself. All done, I released Toughie into his pristine world. Just like the old times.

But something was wrong. Toughie was breathing funny. And then I saw his eyes. Shrinking. I kept looking but with each passing moment life seemed to be getting out of Toughie. And then…

A trail of blood….on Toughie’s tail. In his struggle, I must have broken his tail. His tiny frame against my strong grip. He didn’t stand a chance. I didn’t understand it. All my good intentions and now I was responsible for Toughie’s plight. I felt terrible.

Then all of a sudden, some movement. Toughie, the son-of-a-gun was fighting. The blood was still there. And I’d imagine as it does for humans, even fishes feel the pain. But Toughie isn’t one for complaining. He’s out there, living up to his name.

Note: Please keep a net handy while cleaning your fish tank. Not all fishes are like Toughie.

2008-07-16T12:40:00.000-07:00

Rukmini and Prashant

It started out, like a bolt from the blue. Sudden, unexpected, exciting…the list I assure you is long. But what started out as a pleasant surprise doesn’t cease to surprise me. Not now after seven months, not in this lifetime. I can see Rukmini’s eyes rolling. You must know that she is huge Bollywood fan but sometimes even she has enough. That’s when yours truly takes over with really lame clichés from the yesteryears. Too bad it is my blog. Read on.

Rukmini. My better half. There’s no easy way to describe her. She is a child, a grown up, a rascal, sophistication personified, full of life, homely, charming, witty, dumb, cranky girl. And more. But in midst of all these contradictions, these maddening qualities… she is also, perfect. With just the right mix of all these qualities that makes her so bewitching and endearing, all in a same breath. A paragraph nor a chapter nor a book will do justice to all that I have to say about her. But this is a blog, and people these days have patience as big as the size of a pea pod. I’m not divulging anything further.

Prashant. Till recently a rudderless soul…now - an incredibly lucky S.O.B. I know many think this way. And if you want an honest answer, I agree too. For the rest… you know whom to ask, don’t you?

Together, we are the best thing to Bonnie and Clyde, this side of the world.
Welcome to our chotti si love story.

2008-06-05T01:13:00.000-07:00

Blogger Happy
Why must we blog? Well do you see a diary anywhere these days? Forget that, even pens are a hard commodity to come by. Aren't they? Imagine this daily scenario. You get a call and you need to write down a address. Where's the pen? It was right there...hmm. Pen's have a mind of their own. And even if you do manage to use all your connections and do get hold of a diary and pen, let's face it we all can't be Anne Frank.

Getting back to blogging. Why do people do it? Normal people like you and me. Hopelessly addicted. It may have something to do with our generation. Gen X, gen Y, Gen E or what i like to call the internet generation. Maybe we were born to type and our fingers have been genetically modified to become keyboard friendly. Ok maybe not that last thought.

But you can't ignore the fact that more and more people are find blogging a serious way to give vent to their feelings. It doesn't matter whether you write the wittiest of things or the most silliest. Writing a blog is a self fulling moment. It's more than a record of daily occurances it's a reflection of moods, catfights,
bitchiness, bitterness, optimism, hopelessness all boiling a really tasty cauldron of emotions.

Bloggers are no different from vampires. Once they have tasted blood one can't stop wanting more. So maybe it maybe a month, two months or even six months before your next blog, you will be back. And that's a good feeling in itself.

2008-05-25T23:38:00.000-07:00

A cousin just turned 30 yesterday. Yes that dreaded 30. And though we laughed and song and danced the whole night away... deep down, it was still a big deal. Especially for a 29 year old like me. I looked at my cousin, trying his best to fend the usual question. How does it feel to be 30? Why? What had changed in a few days or the past year even? Nothing really. But it seemed like the apt question to ask.

But thinking about it, I've come to realise it's never about a specific number. It's about all the experiences one has had in those 30 odd years of living. To put things in even more perspective, by 30 most of our parents were happily married with kids. Us. For many 30 year olds today, me included, 30 is no different than 26. We're still living the life. Carefree and with hardly any responsibility. So there are overgrown children living in with their old parents and no one even bats an eye. A 26 year old in the west wouldn't be caught dead living in his parent's house but out here it's a culture thing. Or higher property rates. Whichever works for you.

For me, I've decided to achieve a few landmarks around my 30th birthday. The biggest of them is to quit smoking. If i succeed call me to know how. The other is to do things i've never done before. (There's a lot in that list). And finally to marry the woman of my dreams and get started on a journey of a lifetime. That oughta do for a year.

30... here i come.

2008-03-24T05:51:00.000-07:00

No one reads my blog.... so why write?

True isn't it? And if i hear 'i write to please myself' bullshit one more time...
That's right. Every one who pens something hopes it will be read. Not neccessarily appreciated, but read. Every writer (worth his marbles/her gems) is a exhibitionist and feels the same way. Some make money too, but for every other single poor blogger out there, plugging uselessly on the keyboard at some unearthly hour there's always the promise of maybe.
So let's try and give a lowdown of what makes readable writing. Personally, I don't think its as simple as writing stuff that's . A vulgar joke doesn't guarantee a dekho. It's not luck even. Because going by that logic you are bound to get your share of luck....sometime. No out here we are dealing with people who never ever get the formula right.
When celebrity bloggers (not that they are anyone famous, just popular reads) are asked for their views, they seem to shy away from the topic altogther. Strange i know, but not entirely surprising. After all, you'll want to keep the reader base hooked on to your blog............

Now, I'm really tempted to finish this piece right here, but i'll wait. Just to get people curious enough to read. And wait and wait to read some more. Hey! if it works for all those wickedly brain freezing soaps, it shall work here.

2008-01-24T03:48:00.000-08:00

Meeting the parents

I know. I've got your attention already. It's one of the bitter yet sweet subjects which is good to hear when it's happening to someone else. I can see you now, smiling yet shifting uncomfortably and vehemently denying you would even think of taking this as a sport. I used to be you, that's until I had to meet the parents.
For the uninitiated lets just say it's never a walk in the park. Even if you can your partner's parents are on a first name basis. It's difficult and disturbing.
But you always need to put it in perspective. They are the parents. And you are this mean thing that somehow has managed to sway their impressionable child's mind. Doesn't matter, he/she has been an adult for a decade now. No contest.
So after the small frivolities, it's time for the big question. "What are your intentions for my child?" You begin a well rehearsed speech. Tsk.. they aren't even listening. They are looking towards you, watching your mouth open and close in an odd way but nothing gets through. They are too preoccupied.
In the end, since they are not too all bad and partly as they want to save further humiliation for the next meeting they bring the meeting to a close. You are a free man. At least, till the next hearing you are.

You breathe. You gather your thoughts. You wonder, why the most important things to say never got spoken. You chuckle at the fate of those who've yet to get to the other side. And then, you write.

Note: Views expressed by the writer is entirely his own, and is not to be generalised.

2008-01-05T11:26:00.000-08:00

Its been almost a month and im amazed. At life's little plans, and gifts it showers when you least expect it. Happiness it seems is just a short step which you will never see coming. Hope this describes it better.

About a girl

We met online
We spoke a mile
We made promises
Told each other of near misses

It's strange but in a nice kind of way
To have you by my side everyday
Far away and yet closer
Than anyone yonder

For the way in which we think
Like two joined souls writing with the same bottle of ink
It's magic baby
It's magic that's obvious to see

I want you now
Will continue till i'm old as an cow
It's after all not an everyday affair
To meet someone so special i swear

2007-12-09T11:21:00.000-08:00

The big fat lie

In the summer of 2006 I found out my wife was cheating on me. How? She told me. In a way she was talking about one of her shopping experiences. Off hand.

Now what does an honest-Joe-doting husband do in such a situation? I didn’t know. Did they have books on the subject? I needed time to research. So when Rita, my wife came out with this earth shattering news, I withdrew. No actually if I remember, in my mind I did one of those kill bill moves with that samurai, but who was I kidding? This woman was good. I even thought I could even see a hint of a smile creep up her face, as she looked straight at me looking for a reaction. No, she was a cold snake, and I needed to get my homework right.

I felt good in a way, not asking the usual questions. Who is he? Where did you do it? Does he have a bigger you-know-what? No, I was not giving her the satisfaction of seeing me go insane. No I’d just ask her whether we’d be cooking at home or ordering takeaway.

The books on the subject however turned out to be more of a disappointment. It seemed until now the cheating bug had only bitten the male species. So there were women venting their feelings of rage, the urgent need to rid the world of testicles. There were women helping other women get over this difficult period. Essentially the-I’ve-been-through-the-same-thing-babes, talk. And then there was help books, aimed at those suckers who didn’t know better. And yet, no male writer seemed to come forward. Men - the rulers of empires, the epitome of courage. Men, who by now was becoming increasingly apparent were chicken, in matters of reporting infidelity.

Great so I had drawn a blank. Now what? I couldn’t possibly turn to friends. Out of the question, I might as well gift myself two horns. The Internet? Well a possibility, but a few hours later, I was more confused than when I started. Views there ranged from “I probably deserved it to maybe it was actually a good thing.” No. I needed a definite plan. One that would make Rita so sorry for thinking that her doing some guy, would go down well with me. Bitch.

The next day as I lay in bed I heard Rita on the phone. Now she was talking to her boyfriend from home. I was slowly sidelined. I had to do something quick else then next time, I’d find the boyfriend in my bed.

Ok enough on this rambling about. I got up. She was sitting on the dining table, spreading peanut butter over her hot toast…waiting. I lumbered on, as if not noticing her. I went to the coffee machine. I got the newspaper. I went to the john.

Ok I was a chicken like all the others. But what could I do? I was in no mood for clearing the air. It was out there, the woman had had sex. She had given little thought to our marriage vows. And before you think that the sex between us was getting boring you have another thing coming. I couldn’t understand it. Why? Why? Why? No. I needed to get hold of myself. This wasn’t the time to be freaking out.

Divorce her. Get even, hook up yourself. Kick her out. All valid arguments, but not the type that had too much originality in them. There had to be something bigger. Something that hurt her like it was hurting me. And it was there, right there. I got up. I flushed. I walked up to her and asked if we should order takeaway.

2007-10-30T06:36:00.000-07:00

I take the train
From working days to a holiday
In the summer, when I’m wet
I take the train

It’s crowded, it’s messy
But thank god for the train
It’s fast as it’s cheap
It’s for everybody, but mostly it’s for me

In rush hours when I go numb
Body bruises and verbal abuses
Jump in, pushed out
I take the train

Rubbing shoulders with the masses
Racing hard to catch a slow
Smelly armpits and sweat from noses
I love the train and the magic that it holds

- The spirit of Mumbai.

2007-06-30T14:36:00.000-07:00

I've lived a life full of surprises
i don't know how, so don't ask for clarifications
but the thing that i have come to realise
is the simplest of them all

that today and not the other one like it, is what's special
that nothing matters
that if we choose...we can be giants
and in doing that be again surprised

I've stayed true to my friends
and while over the years it's natural to drift apart
i've hung on.
not in the good past but a better 'right now'

try it and you'll see
that fame and fortune mean little
it'll shrink before your very eyes
as you rush out that door, to welcome an old friend

2007-03-10T09:27:00.000-08:00

I missed her call, and at that moment i knew that it was all over.

She was calling me from a pay phone from across the library we had met for the last time. She needed one final answer. Was i going to quit drinking? I was still fidgeting with my keys as i heard her voice on the answering machine. "I can't bear it anymore..." click!

I drew a deep breath, walked back to my car. It was a cold wintry night, and i wasn't going to head to the airport, i recalled she'd mentioned about leaving that afternoon. As i turned on the ignition, unsure where to head, a girl walked up to my car. Another 'gang bang' gone wrong i thought, looking at dead pale face and bloody nose. I drew my window up as the woman tottered by into the darkness. I got back to my thoughts but surprising, the woman i loved and lived with over three years...i couldn't remember her face. More surprising, i was no longer hurting.
Hurriedly i got down the car and headed home. To my drink, and the pale faced lady with a bloody nose.

2006-11-22T02:35:00.000-08:00

BETA POWER

First things first ladies, it's not 'BETA' as in son, if some of you would so deem it to be. No additions to our already bulging population. What i write to you about it the Beta (read: beeta) version of blogger.com
It's merits, features, and why i upgraded to it from the old one? Oh wait, i'm sure most of ya poor souls still use that one. Too lazy to create another blogspot, or afraid of a change, eh?

But that isn't the point. So why did i make the switch? It wasn't coz i read about the new features that the Beta gave me. Believe me, I am the foggiest about how any of those work i tell you. I just shifted to it coz it was new and for the inherent quality that all Beta's are blessed with, unpredictability. Now i know there are those amongst you who hate a Beta. It's a symbol of testing, has compatibility issues and is a breathing ground for bugs. Those kinds of things don't bother me. I just go with the newness of it all. Maybe someday i will figure out the features even.

This Beta thingie also transcends to philosophical stuff. There are some who like change and others who cringe. I also would like to point out at this point that this is not technology dependant. For example, try a new girlfriend? a new job? a new house? A new cuisine? If yes, then naturally you are also ready to Beta.

The days after the Beta have been blissful really. I got another blog name that i prefered to the old, and yes my gmail id and password works on this one. That's one less password to remember.

2006-11-13T11:20:00.000-08:00

Remembering the rains

Down came the rains
Over the swelling sea first;
Then lashing out inwards.
Down came the rains

It tasted of old memories
Big drops of pain
I saw time trickling,
Back to when we had dreams

It rained without a break
For two days and three nights
With houses adrift, kids on holiday
It rained without a break

The city stood still
Blessed with time to think
Time to take stock
And then it rained.

2006-10-18T07:20:00.000-07:00

GUESS THIS IS GOODBYE

Of all the dreadful things i have been accused of the one that really hurts is the one regarding my non-movement. Strictly speaking work of course.
And i, on my part must admit that the Rock of Gibraltar (also pronounced as Jibraltar) unknowingly seems to have become my role model. You see, the reasons for this can be of all shapes and sizes. But the ones that fit best read something like this.

*I get bored easily. Not good, especially when the Mavericks too preach that the best way to get anywhere is to be at it. "Be the nagging housewife if so needed"

**I have other interests than advertising. But for some odd reason those interests don't then help in any visible way at work. In fact you can safely say when I switch off, that's the end of advertising right there.

***I go after the underdog...always. Translation - i prefer quirky ideas to the generally appreciated, big draw bunnies. Call me strange, but that's the only way I've known to get my kicks.

***Comfort zone - Safe to I have found my haven. Not unlike prisoners who after a while find the inside world much more appetising.

Three years is a long time in any one's life. Boys become men. Nation's have new commands. Computers go through generations. So then, I've finally seen the light, and acquired a spanking new set of wings too.

2006-10-16T22:43:00.000-07:00

"Adapt this to a magazine ad and get me an award, dude." - boss

Hmmm...I ponder. Bright lights with all its Mediterranean charm seem only a whisker away. And then, I indulge a bit further. A silver, a gold, who knows a grand prix maybe. The advertising fraternity all bowing down in salut before the ad of the year with much envy.

Wake up!!!

Oh well back to work. "Adapt this to a magazine ad and get me an award, dude." - boss
Hmmm....