[tatimatla]

This one's been inspired from the 2005 Mumbai Floods...the story that actually started me off on writing. ... the English does give away the juvenile writer behind it.

But

It was a blasé start for Hari that day. There was no coffee to greet him good morning. He spent most of the morning waiting for the paperboy, ignorant of the fact that the paper was stuck in the handle of the entrance. He scanned the fridge for some food, found an egg, and decided to have a go at making an omelet for himself. Just as he was done with the omelet, the phone rang, its tone piercing the awkward silence in the house. Hari was caught unaware and rushed to attend it. When he returned to the kitchen, he was not at all surprised to find a thick black mass of carbon on the frying pan. The over fried stench that pervaded the house disallowed him from eating anything else. He finally sat down to meditate, just as he did everyday, realizing he could not concentrate anymore, had an express bath and left for the office a good one hour before time. He glanced at the sky as he got out of the house. There was not a single patch of blue to meet his eyes. All he saw was a consitent dull gray hemisphere. He couldn't but help compare the dull climate with his equally dull morning.

"What's gone wrong with me?" he said to himself on his way to the office. "Am I missing my wife…or...have I got used to a whole year of being lazy?" After a little more thinking, he decided that it was the latter that sounded better, his chauvinistic attitude not allowing to admit to the former.

When he reached the office, he observed that the work for the day was stereotypical. All he had to do was clear some pending files from the day before, and look at a fresh set of files which had just been brought in. The work took him more time than he expected, before he realized it was time for lunch.

As he sat down to eat the canteen food, he remembered the words of his chairman on the day he was inducted. “The canteen serves very good food, extremely rich in nutrients. Its doors are always open for our employees.” He observed during his first three years that the ‘nutrients’ came at the expense of taste. The food lacked in the minimum required amount of salt and spice that was expected in any kind of meal. But being a bachelor at that time, Hari had very alternative few options.

But, ever since his marriage, an year before, he couldn’t remember a single time he’d eaten at the dull canteen. He recalled the first dinner Tina prepared for him.
“Did my mom teach you how to cook?” he asked her after devouring the meal.
According to Hari, it was supposed to be a compliment. Tina took it the other way and triggered their first post-marital argument. He remembered the sordid words exchanged between them. The animosity lasted for one whole day, before both the parties realized how foolish they had been and conciliated, promising each other never to quarrel again.

The arguments and quarrels, however found their way into their topsy-turvy marriage life. But the final blow took place the previous night, when Hari, drunk, mentioned something, which he could not recollect now, about her only boyfriend during college days. However, he remembered Tina going back to her bedroom, in tears, impertinently closing the door on his face. She came out of her bedroom, directed herself towards the front door saying, “I won’t come back unless you come to my parents’ home and say sorry for what you’ve said.”
“In your dreams!” Hari had retorted.

Unconsciously, Hari felt a drop of tear at the tip of his left eye, waiting to run down his cheeks. The emotions stopped pouring out and Hari somehow managed to let it dry at that very spot. The hunger had left him. He had some fruit at the counter and left the canteen. After he’d reached his office, he looked out of the French window. He was shocked to see the intensity of the rain that was coming down. He got lost looking into the dense drops nature’s cast down on the earth, and suddenly realized the gravity of the statement he’d passed last night.
“It is my fault.” He said to himself. “But I was drunk. She should have understood.” He wanted to console himself.

He had just decided to apologise and get her back when he heard a knock on his door. It was his secretary, with a bunch of new files in her hand. He wanted to send them away, but his eyes fell on the bright yellow post-it stuck on the files. It cried “URGENT”. He had no option but to look through them.

By the time he finished with the paper work, it was dawn. He observed that his office was almost empty, barring a few, who had just arrived there to attend to their duty. He quickly packed his bag, and left his office hurriedly. On reaching the ground floor, he saw the lobby swarming with people drenched from head to toe. All of them were seeking refuge from the rain. The surroundings of the office were blurred by the dense downpour. The water outside was up to the knee level and Hari had to, by all means, go to meet Tina. He wanted to sort out all the things that went wrong between them. He wanted to feel the soft touch of her lips on his.

With the basement locked, the access to his car was cut-off. The only way Hari could reach her parents’ house seemed to be a fifteen-kilometer long walk. The calculation that went through his mind told him it would take around three hours to reach there. That would mean a night’s stay at her parent’s house. He made up his mind to walk through, even if it meant an attack of pneumonia.

It was a downpour, a terrible one, like that he had never seen before. His umbrella was rendered helpless. The wind was howling and there was no escape from getting drenched. He abandoned his umbrella mid-way. It was more of a burden than help. The walk, which started off though knee-deep water, was now, an hour later, a wade through waist-deep water. To keep his spirits up, Hari started off with his favorite ‘Chale chalo…’ tune. The people walking beside him took the cue and joined in. In fact all through Hari’s walk, the ‘rain-walkers’ were singing with zest and zeal, singing any song that could lift their spirits and make them forget the precarious situation they were in. This was probably the famous ‘spirit of Mumbai’, that he’d heard a lot about and was experiencing for the first time.

Hari finally reached Tina’s colony, and her house was very near. The water was still waist deep. He was already thinking of how happy Tina would be on seeing him at her doorstep. He couldn’t wait to see her. He would get freedom from these truculent floods, and have Tina back, this time renewed in a much stronger bond.

While Hari was pondering over what her reaction would be, he committed the biggest blunder of his life. He ignored a rumbling noise, he thought he heard a few seconds before, taking it for some engine’s noise. He suddenly felt a huge impulse on his head and then darkness.

It is strange how, in a jiffy, one can grab defeat from the jaws of success. How one can fall deep in love with a person. How, in a momentary lapse, one can lose one’s life.

The next moment, I saw Hari, lying crushed under a huge stone that came rolling from a near-by hill.

I still see her every moment, still want to be with her, still want to be morphed. But…

[fera]

Oops...error in my explorer...will post it as soon as i correct them..damn

[birajadeo]

Moonlight

Legend goes that the moon shows you for what you are, no pretense..
When the moonlight falls at certain angles on the face, you can see a glimpse of what a man could have been and not what he is..
The dew drops on the green grass catch the cool light of the moon and turn to little diamonds, brilliantly sparkling..
The clouds, jealous, try to cover the beautiful face of the moon but every now and then you can catch a fleeting glimpse of that brilliant white orb hanging in the nether..
The distant howl of the wolves in search of prey echoes through the dead silence..
With a million stars for company, the moon still sails through the sky alone..

[sumitrocks]

I stare at the limitless sea,
that mass of never-ending blue,
and listen to the crashing waves,
singing melancholic songs of me and you.

I look at the bright Sun,
in the sky like an oversized balloon,
dipping his finger in the sea,
painting a lazy summer afternoon.

The sand escapes my closed fist,
though I strain to hold it in,
leaving behind empty fingers,
and nothing else within.

The sea rises and falls,
breathing out in deep sighs,
the sailboats disappear from view,
their sails waving goodbyes.

I can see Time fading,
at the demise of this day,
and I struggle to gather,
memories that'll be mine to stay.

[birajadeo]

(In)Sanity

Tethered by nothing but a few strands to sanity,
Voices drowned in an all pervasive silence,
Thoughts surrounded by vaccum, impregnable,
Enchanted and spellbound by nothingness,
Limbs, as though amputated,
Painless, or rather insensitive to it,
Anchored to this detachment,
Not yet ready to let it all go.

[wicked_ways]

Originally Posted by tatimatla

This one's been inspired from the 2005 Mumbai Floods...the story that actually started me off on writing. ... the English does give away the juvenile writer behind it.

But

It was a blasé start for Hari that day. There was no coffee to greet him good morning. He spent most of the morning waiting for the paperboy, ignorant of the fact that the paper was stuck in the handle of the entrance. He scanned the fridge for some food, found an egg, and decided to have a go at making an omelet for himself. Just as he was done with the omelet, the phone rang, its tone piercing the awkward silence in the house. Hari was caught unaware and rushed to attend it. When he returned to the kitchen, he was not at all surprised to find a thick black mass of carbon on the frying pan. The over fried stench that pervaded the house disallowed him from eating anything else. He finally sat down to meditate, just as he did everyday, realizing he could not concentrate anymore, had an express bath and left for the office a good one hour before time. He glanced at the sky as he got out of the house. There was not a single patch of blue to meet his eyes. All he saw was a consitent dull gray hemisphere. He couldn't but help compare the dull climate with his equally dull morning.

"What's gone wrong with me?" he said to himself on his way to the office. "Am I missing my wife…or...have I got used to a whole year of being lazy?" After a little more thinking, he decided that it was the latter that sounded better, his chauvinistic attitude not allowing to admit to the former.

When he reached the office, he observed that the work for the day was stereotypical. All he had to do was clear some pending files from the day before, and look at a fresh set of files which had just been brought in. The work took him more time than he expected, before he realized it was time for lunch.

As he sat down to eat the canteen food, he remembered the words of his chairman on the day he was inducted. “The canteen serves very good food, extremely rich in nutrients. Its doors are always open for our employees.” He observed during his first three years that the ‘nutrients’ came at the expense of taste. The food lacked in the minimum required amount of salt and spice that was expected in any kind of meal. But being a bachelor at that time, Hari had very alternative few options.

But, ever since his marriage, an year before, he couldn’t remember a single time he’d eaten at the dull canteen. He recalled the first dinner Tina prepared for him.
“Did my mom teach you how to cook?” he asked her after devouring the meal.
According to Hari, it was supposed to be a compliment. Tina took it the other way and triggered their first post-marital argument. He remembered the sordid words exchanged between them. The animosity lasted for one whole day, before both the parties realized how foolish they had been and conciliated, promising each other never to quarrel again.

The arguments and quarrels, however found their way into their topsy-turvy marriage life. But the final blow took place the previous night, when Hari, drunk, mentioned something, which he could not recollect now, about her only boyfriend during college days. However, he remembered Tina going back to her bedroom, in tears, impertinently closing the door on his face. She came out of her bedroom, directed herself towards the front door saying, “I won’t come back unless you come to my parents’ home and say sorry for what you’ve said.”
“In your dreams!” Hari had retorted.

Unconsciously, Hari felt a drop of tear at the tip of his left eye, waiting to run down his cheeks. The emotions stopped pouring out and Hari somehow managed to let it dry at that very spot. The hunger had left him. He had some fruit at the counter and left the canteen. After he’d reached his office, he looked out of the French window. He was shocked to see the intensity of the rain that was coming down. He got lost looking into the dense drops nature’s cast down on the earth, and suddenly realized the gravity of the statement he’d passed last night.
“It is my fault.” He said to himself. “But I was drunk. She should have understood.” He wanted to console himself.

He had just decided to apologise and get her back when he heard a knock on his door. It was his secretary, with a bunch of new files in her hand. He wanted to send them away, but his eyes fell on the bright yellow post-it stuck on the files. It cried “URGENT”. He had no option but to look through them.

By the time he finished with the paper work, it was dawn. He observed that his office was almost empty, barring a few, who had just arrived there to attend to their duty. He quickly packed his bag, and left his office hurriedly. On reaching the ground floor, he saw the lobby swarming with people drenched from head to toe. All of them were seeking refuge from the rain. The surroundings of the office were blurred by the dense downpour. The water outside was up to the knee level and Hari had to, by all means, go to meet Tina. He wanted to sort out all the things that went wrong between them. He wanted to feel the soft touch of her lips on his.

With the basement locked, the access to his car was cut-off. The only way Hari could reach her parents’ house seemed to be a fifteen-kilometer long walk. The calculation that went through his mind told him it would take around three hours to reach there. That would mean a night’s stay at her parent’s house. He made up his mind to walk through, even if it meant an attack of pneumonia.

It was a downpour, a terrible one, like that he had never seen before. His umbrella was rendered helpless. The wind was howling and there was no escape from getting drenched. He abandoned his umbrella mid-way. It was more of a burden than help. The walk, which started off though knee-deep water, was now, an hour later, a wade through waist-deep water. To keep his spirits up, Hari started off with his favorite ‘Chale chalo…’ tune. The people walking beside him took the cue and joined in. In fact all through Hari’s walk, the ‘rain-walkers’ were singing with zest and zeal, singing any song that could lift their spirits and make them forget the precarious situation they were in. This was probably the famous ‘spirit of Mumbai’, that he’d heard a lot about and was experiencing for the first time.

Hari finally reached Tina’s colony, and her house was very near. The water was still waist deep. He was already thinking of how happy Tina would be on seeing him at her doorstep. He couldn’t wait to see her. He would get freedom from these truculent floods, and have Tina back, this time renewed in a much stronger bond.

While Hari was pondering over what her reaction would be, he committed the biggest blunder of his life. He ignored a rumbling noise, he thought he heard a few seconds before, taking it for some engine’s noise. He suddenly felt a huge impulse on his head and then darkness.

It is strange how, in a jiffy, one can grab defeat from the jaws of success. How one can fall deep in love with a person. How, in a momentary lapse, one can lose one’s life.

The next moment, I saw Hari, lying crushed under a huge stone that came rolling from a near-by hill.

I still see her every moment, still want to be with her, still want to be morphed. But…

BRAVO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :hurray::hurray::hurray::hurray::hurray::hurray:

[wicked_ways]

Posted this on my blog too...




A Distant Dream!

“Oh! Kiran! Stop sleeping already and pay attention” said my professor.

That’s odd this seems so god damn real, I thought.

Mom had just served me dinner as I watched the highlights of a victorious Manchester United team beating the crap out of Roma. I then waltzed my way into my bedroom, onto my cozy and warm bed. Tired and sullen, each step of the way I said to myself, “Tonight I will sleep like there is no tomorrow”. Must be the re-runs of Mel Gibson’s Braveheart, that must have had me thinking that way. The sleep inducing hormone melatonin levels in my brain increased and slowly by slowly all the departments of my brain called it a day, they began shutting shop. I must have drifted into my sub-conscious somewhere around midnight.

It all started then…

If u were in a dream that you thought was so real…. And if u never woke up from that dream…. How would you distinguish the real world from the unreal?

After a day’s play of cricket and the customary ‘cutting’ chai, I bid farewell to all my buddies. All cylinders up and running as I started my bike I headed home. I passed by the Dominoes Pizza shop, and was negotiating a turn when all of a sudden the bike stopped with a screeching halt! The chain mechanism was somehow stuck in the drum brake assembly. I was just about to put my bike on the side-stand when all of a sudden…..

I saw a white Maruti Omni turned almost into me, screeched, and swerved to a stop. Then a couple of hands grabbed hold of me and took me in. I was hit on the head with a blunt object; I was unconscious.

Drifting in and out of consciousness I sensed something on me. It was a black, jute sack with a hole at the height of my nostrils. There was this nauseating smell. I was not alone. I could only see the torso portion of the persons sitting in front of me. One of them had a Krieg 557 rifle and was wearing a white kurta. The other one was maybe a woman as I only saw a black burqa. I managed to take sneak peek out of the window and saw sand, everywhere. I must have drifted again….

Sultan Ahmed and Rasika Jamiilia were Mujahideens, working for SIMI. They were out on a recruitment drive on their way to the Ladakh-Leh border.

I then imagined myself on top of a hill, wearing a bandit robe, a bandana on my head, eating carrots with a goat. What is a goat doing here???? I wondered, as I looked into its puny marble eyes. Almost expecting an answer, “Baaaaaaaaaa” went the sheep and ran.

An apple fell from the tree. Nicholas cage came from somewhere asking directions. He is on some treasure hunt. Oh wait I see an oasis. There is a tall building nearby. Hey this is no building this is my college main building. I start running upstairs into my class. I take a seat on the third bench and start feeling sleepy.
A feel of a nudge, reminiscences of a distant friend, sitting close…
“……Romance, a childlike; playful consistency….. “
The nudge gets heavier and heavier…..
“……The scent sets in. She draws closer……”
But now it is no more a nudge, it is more like a knock……
“…….Violent eruptions of a hidden seductive volcano……. “
The knock is hurting now…
“….Rivulets running free…creation of crevices in the sea…..”
Better deal with this, I thought. Than have a permanent scary crevice running on my elbow….

But I really don’t want to let go of this…… The Mujahideens… The Goat… The Tree…..Nicolas cage….

Sounds like someone is screaming…Wake up!!!!!
Grab a brush and brush your teeth….
Why did you leave the keys upon the table..
Why couldn’t you set an alarm…

-HOLD it right there….. Mom is that you??

But right then a sudden break of light, into my dreamy eyes. A hint of a sound byte. Its getting louder now. I can hear it. I try and focus.
“Abe uth yaar… Pandu saamne hai….Abe who idhar dekh raha hai..Oye uth….OYEEEEE!!!”

And then…

Back to where we started….

My professor and his sniffer dog like quality to shock and awe the sleepy students. He is having a go with all guns blazing. After emptying his guns of the bullets I am sure to be assaulted by the bullet-less rifle. If he is in a gay mood he might leave me there. Else he will apply band-aid over my wounds yet still rip me apart!

But how did I get here?? This cant be right….right? is this a dream??? Or am I writing this, a dream? So many questions left un-answered. Maybe i wont find the right notes to hit while deciphering this unique ballad. Maybe my questions will just remain questions.

This is the real Matrix.
This is the real world fact that nothing is real!
Nothing actually exists.
All is just a figment of a distant dream.
A dream within a dream!

Baffling!

I sure am rocked to the core!

[curtz-imi]

another thousand years........



woke up to the soothing sound of pouring rain,
with every drop splashing my face, it tried to wash away all the past pains
remembered the recurring dream, the last time I touched your face
realized have woken up again without your head on my shoulders and cant cuddle you in our own sweet ways

cant hug you, cant hold you, cant ask you to wipe my tears
but can promise you one thing, will wait for you for another thousand years
cant own you, cant touch you, cant ask you to pull me near
but can promise you one thing, will keep on loving you for another thousand years

walked my way past the woods with mist covering the ways
the mist droplets weaved magic with the sun rays and created your face
walked to the white sands and entered the realms of wide blue sea
my reflection smiled at me and asked, again alone, where is she

cant hug you, cant hold you, cant ask you to wipe my tears
but can promise you one thing, will wait for you for another thousand years
cant own you, cant touch you, cant ask you to pull me near
but can promise you one thing, will keep on loving you for another thousand years

walked across the horizon and laid down under the starlit sky,
the lights asked me to keep that smile on as she does not want me to cry
our souls are still together, the heart still beats the same beat
the memories will live on forever, it will me just me and you who will die

cant hug you, cant hold you, cant ask you to wipe my tears
but can promise you one thing, will wait for you for another thousand years
cant own you, cant touch you, cant ask you to pull me near
but can promise you one thing, will keep on loving you for another thousand years...

ciao..

[fera]

Bohemia

Legs crossed,a grey suit sat on the pavement,
The hair wasn't allowed by the forehead and the dark eyes,were
well,dark.
This looked like the place we could find them,
this other end of the town,
the mighty river here,don't people drown?

The town square formed a impressive canvas for him,
the hawkers of erstwhile kingdoms,
the old ladies on their chairs,
the gypsies spelling fortune,
and then them

I was told its this part where i could find them now,
only here,
"where",I said,"where exactly you think i should be?"

A pony tailed teen walked over,not a single tatoo on him
but the friendly smile suggested a nice pierce
This part it is,
jobs that pay you enough to get the beer for your girl on saturday,
where a last nights can at the door suggests the party,
and you live in the night,
this night.

Here i should find them,so i clutched some exotic air and shouted
"Can I get some writers?"

[Greenspan]

A rather uneventful morning in a Wimp's life.


Flurry of thoughts. Daydreams. Craziness. Sunlight. Fuzzy. The ceiling fan.....
Let it out. Another boring day. Heck... switch off the alarm. Where's the cigarette? Ah..... matches??? There....
(smoke in the air)
Stuffed room. Open the door. Newspaper. Boring piece of tale. Important is it? What if they ask about current affairs in the interviews? Glamor page. Those people have money. Loads. Where's my purse? Toothpaste's over. Gotta brush. Breath smells of alcohol. Cavities. Cigarettes and coffee... wanted. No power.
Switch on the inverter. Fan, simple circular motion. What was that force that pulls things towards the center of the circle called? Smile. Eons back. Better to know about a circumcircle instead. Where's that formula book? Calendar. Stay happy. Still two more weeks to go. You can do it. Oh yes, you can. Maybe not. Bullshit. You can. You could not twice before. Who cares? Office... Too late. Light another cigarette. What was that Steve Pavlina called it? ............. Cancer sticks. Yeah right!
(smoke in the air)
Call PL.
(coughs)"Hi, it is me. I am sorry cannot make it to office today. Down with severe cold and fever. I have done that submodule and passed it onto Dave. There is no work pending. (cough) Can I take the day off please?...I can, thank you. I will be in office tomorrow. I will pick up the memory module too. Thanks a lot" (cough)
Grin....
Some water... over. Gotta go get it from the shop. Chuck it.
"I can, but I wont." She was proud of it. Now she is not there. Her memories?? Nope... grin.
One more....(cough).
(smoke in the air)
10.00 What can I do now? Net....PG. Where's the wallet?? ..... Here. Shit. Where's the change? I had thrown it onto the table yesterday night. Oomph. Back hurts. Eat buddy. Eat. You gotta look healthy in the interviews. Screw the interviews.
Screw everything.
"Why worry
There should be laughter after pain
There should be sunshine after rain
These things have alwyas been the same
Why worry now"
Dire Straits. God.
Exit.
(c) Greenspan