SCRIPTED IN SANITY

HOOKED...

2011-12-10T01:24:00.000+05:30

Hello Readers...

Been away for a while now. Here's why...

I got hooked....for life...

...to my sweetheart :)

Say Hello To My Darling Wife :)

WE LOVE TO THROW

2011-10-19T22:26:00.000+05:30

People Have Hobbies.

Throwing Is A Favourite.

People Love Throwing....

Petals At Faces

Knives At Backs

Garbage Out Of Windows

Loyalty Out Of Friendships

Stones At Street Dogs

Chappals At Politicians

Rule-Books At Rebels

Mud At The Righteous

Cakes At Apes

Peanuts At Lesser Humans

Paanch-Sau Ke Notes At Sheila

Greased Utensils At Susheela

Compliments At Superiors

Tantrums At Juniors

Caution To The Wind

Towels In The Ring

Gold At Gods Of Stone

Cold Stares At The Helpless

So, What Do You Love Throwing?

P.S. – I’m taking a break from Blogging for a month...or mebbe two. Getting married in a few days from now. Will no longer be a bachelor boy the next time I post in this space. Wish me my fiancee luck :P

Cheers

CRD

OF FREEDOM FIGHTERS AND TERRORISTS

2011-09-29T21:00:00.001+05:30

MURDER

He signalled his gang to get ready. Their weapons were loaded. All they had to do now was wait for the bastard to come out of his den.

Lala's death had to be avenged.

They were determined to kill. There was going to be blood shed tonight.

Blood for blood...the perfect barter.

A few minutes later, a uniformed white man on a motorbike emerged from the police station.

They all shot at him. A subordinate came to the bastard's aid. He was shot dead too.

Lala's death had been avenged.

Bhagat Singh was elated.

"Inquilaab Zindabad!!" they shouted in unison.

MURDER 2

He signalled his gang to get ready. Their weapons were loaded. All they had to do now was wait for the bastard to come out of his den.

The Maulana's death had to be avenged.

They were determined to kill. There was going to be blood shed tonight.

Blood for blood...the perfect barter.

A few minutes later, a uniformed brown man on a motorbike emerged from the police station.

They all shot at him. A subordinate came to the bastard's aid. He was shot dead too.

The Maulana's death had been avenged.

Zaakir was elated.

"Inquilaab Zindabad!!" they shouted in unison.

Strikingly similar stories. Only the names differ.

Yet, one gets to be a 'freedom fighter' while the other has to settle for 'terrorist'.

ONE MAN'S TERRORIST IS ALWAYS ANOTHER MAN'S FREEDOM FIGHTER...

THE COLLEAGUE SONG

2011-09-18T14:29:00.007+05:30

Preface – The Bear walked into a new day in the jungle. The atmosphere was filled with the cacophony of certain animals giggling away to glory. The Gorilla, the female pig, and the pack of Hyenas were at their irritating worst, bitching about all and sundry. Only a handful of the rest were actually immersed in work. A usual day in the jungle.

Just then, one of the noisy ones broke into a song, and everyone else joined in.

Virus Ke Liye Jaise Host Hota Hai

Vaise Har Ek Colleague Zaroori Hota Hai

Koi Tere Failure Pe Haath Badhaye

Koi Tere Success Pe Aag Sulgaye

Ek Tere Burden Ko Halka Kare

Toh Koi Tere Sukoon Mein Ungli Kare

Koi Always Giving, Koi Selfish Hota Hai

Par Har Ek Colleague Zaroori Hota Hai

Ek Ghadi Ghadi Kaam Aye, Aur Kabhi Kabhi Consult Kare

Ek Kabhi Kaam Na Aye, Par Ghadi Ghadi Disturb Kare

Knowledge Aur Inputs Ka Koi Treasury

Koi Cheap-talk Ka Ghoomta Phirta Factory

Koi Not-So-Good, Koi Worse Hota Hai

Lekin Har Ek Colleague Zaroori Hota hai

Cubicle Waala, Koi Gtalk Waala

Koi Lunch Time Pe Company Dene Waala

Celebrations, Trips Organise Karne Waala

Koi Insider Information Dene Waala

Helping Colleague, Motivating Colleague

Bitching Colleague, Giggling Colleague

Yeda Colleague, Shaana Colleague

Honest Colleague, Jealous Colleague

Team Player, Ass-Licker

Big Joker, Back-Stabber

Rule-Breaker, Rule-Abider

Peeth-Peeche Oral-Crapper

Gin-Gin Ke Types Bheja Roast Hota Hai

Par Har Ek Colleague Zaroori Hota Hai

Haan Har Ek Colleague Zaroori Hota Hai

Epilogue – The Doe smiled and said, “Har Colleague Zaroori Hai Yaar!!!”

Just then the Bear stepped out of his cubicle with an irritated look on his face. "Now you tell me", he said as he dunked the severed heads of the Gorilla, the Female Pig and the Hyenas in the garbage bin.

HER NEW MIRROR...

2011-09-07T07:44:00.005+05:30

She looked at herself in the mirror for the umpteenth time. All she could see was evil. The grin, the raised brows, the wickedness lurking behind the deceptively bright aura...she saw it all and beamed in pride. She was evil personified.

But she wanted to be sure.

"Mirror Mirror on the wall...who's the most evil and most wicked of them all?", she asked in a voice that was only a tone short of a screech.

Pat came the reply. "You are, my lady."

But she wasn't convinced. Slaves were always out to please their masters, after all.

So she switched on her computer and visited wikileaks....

Everyone seems to believe that everything published on wikileaks is the gospel truth.

THEM SLAVES

2011-08-15T00:23:00.006+05:30

This post was published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 23; the twenty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for this month was FREE.

This post bagged the Bronze Batom (3rd position)

Duke led his team into the building's lobby. To onlookers, they seemed like just a group of six backpack-laden executives. But they were more than just that.

They were men on a mission. Six young men determined to get their freedom. Each of them carried a heavy backpack, and had a device held tightly in their fists. Their eyes looked far out into the horizon and their faces were devoid of emotion. It was hard to tell whether it was the look of focus or that of cold remorseless rage.

Duke led his men into the elevator. After having scaled 12 stories, he walked them out to the reception area. He then signaled them to follow him as he walked briskly towards the reception table.

Without a word of greeting, he said to the receptionist, "We wanna meet the Master."

The young lady fumbled for words, "Erm...well...the Master said he shouldn't be disturbed. He's in the middle of a..."

"We demand a meeting with him right now!!!" the six men barked out in unison.

She quickly picked up her phone and punched a digit. "Master, Duke and his team seek to meet you." Clumsily dropping the receiver, she informed them, "You may go in."

The band of six marched in, with Duke walking right in front of them, towards the Master's cabin. Having reached the door, Duke simply pushed it open, without caring to knock.

Inside, they saw the Master sitting with his feet resting on top of the table. His arms were folded behind his head. He was wearing dark sunglasses.

"Well, well. If it isn't my dear Duke and his team of five", the Master said. "Welcome my boys. Dawn says you were desperate to meet me. You shouldn't have scared the poor girl the way you did. She's such a sweet young lady."

"We don't care if she's sweet or tangy. We just came to return these." He pulled off his backpack and dropped it on the Master's table. Ditto with the device that was lodged in his fist. The five aped their leader.

"Not done boys. Just a few months ago, when I gave these to you, you were jumping with joy. What's wrong with these?" the Master enquired.

"We didn't know we'd be parting with our freedom. We've become slaves to these devices. Take these back and give us something else" said Duke. The others nodded in agreement.

The Master swore under his breath. "Very well then. Have these instead." He opened his drawer and pulled out six boxes.

At first quite hesitant to even look at the boxes, Duke and his team jumped like little kids as soon as they found out what they contained.

"Thank you Master." said Duke on behalf of his boys. "We misunderstood you. You have been kind and generous. Sorry for being rude."

"It's okay my boys. Now go out and enjoy yourselves."

After they had left the building, Dawn rushed in. "You okay Master?"

"Yep."

Looking at the pile of devices on his table, she asked, "They've returned their laptops and cellphones? What do we do with these?"

"Give them to the newbies. They'll love them...for a few months at least” he sniggered.

“And what about Duke and his team? Aren’t they gonna work?”

“Relax” said the Master. “I’ve given them Blackberrys.” And he burst out in a sinister laugh that echoed through the building.

We're slaves to devices...even if they're free.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Happy Independence Day!

THE SNITCH

2011-08-07T22:20:00.006+05:30

Goga sucked the last puff in very slowly. He knew he’d finally run out of cigarettes.

“What’s the little rat’s name again?”, he asked, treading on the stub.

“I think the boss said Abdul”, replied Tony, rubbing his eyes and stifling a cough or two. Being nicotine-intolerant wasn’t appreciated in his business circles.

“Hmm..Abdul. That snitch has been letting the cops in on our coke business for months now. We’ve lost consignments worth at least 15 million so far because of that kid. He’s gotta go down.”

“The boss said this is the area he frequents. No other clues though. No one knows what he looks like. We don’t even know if that’s his real name.”

“Damn”, swore Goga under his breath, instinctively rummaging through his pockets for another ciggie. He swore again after he remembered he’d run out of stock. “So, how then are we supposed to find him.”

Tony only shrugged his shoulders.

Just then, a lame man emerged from the crowd. He was seated on a mini-cart, propelling himself forward using his hands. He suddenly burst out into a song.

Aate Jaate Hue Main Sab-pe Nazar Rakhta Hun

Naam Abdul Hai Mera, Sabki Khabar Rakhta Hun...

Tony and Goga looked at each other and scratched their heads for a couple of seconds. When realisation suddenly dawned upon them, they smiled, gave each other high-fives, rubbed their hands in anticipation of their scalp, and went looking for the singer.

POOR ADVERTISING CAMPAIGNS CAN KILL ~~YOUR PRODUCT~~ YOU.

Here's Abdul's Song ==> ABDUL'S SONG

P.S.:- Here's reminding you about the blogging contest on The Bloggeratti Community. The theme is "WET IN THE RAIN".

For details, go to this link ==> BLOGGERATTI CONTEST LINK

THE HOLE TRUTH

2011-07-24T16:09:00.007+05:30

“Doesn’t look so good.” Marsh’s eyes were still scanning the images.

“You kiddin me?” said Jenkins, plonking down his coffee mug. “They’re horrible.”

The images sure looked eerie and sinister. ‘The Indian subcontinent’, the label revealed. Although the areas occupied by its immediate neighbours seemed quite clear and free of any blemishes, India’s hinterland had what seemed like veins running all over it. The veins bore countless perforations.

“What on earth are these? “ Jenkins asked, pointing at the perforations. “Craters? Mines? Extra-terrestrial markings?”

Marsh nodded. “Call them what you will. Your guess is as good as mine. Whatever the hell those things are, they’re all over the place.”

“We’ve got to warn their government ASAP. Whadda you think?”

“Negative. The State informatics department would never let us do that.”

“Why not?” Jenkins snatched the pictures out of Marsh’s hands. “Don’t these satellite images mean anything? We’re talking about the second largest population in the world here.”

“Information sharing agreements”, Marsh contested. We don’t have any such agreement with their government....or even their agencies for that matter.”

Jenkins protested, “You mean you’re not gonna give them the slightest hint? You’re not gonna tell them that something strange is happening?”

“Not right now.”

“That sounds like never.”

Marsh smirked. “Sorry buddy. We’ve got to follow protocol here. Besides, they have a huge satellite programme of their own. I bet their government is already in the know. It’s not a dot somewhere. It’s a whole lot of dots all over.”

“Hmm.” Jenkins agreed.

“What surprises me though..”, said Marsh, signalling that he wasn’t finished yet, “..is that if these things are so obvious, why aren’t they doing anything about it?”

ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE GLOBE...IN MUMBAI

Two project engineers are peering into a 4-by-4 feet crater.

Mhatre adjusted his soda-glasses. “Is this the biggest one?”

“I think so sir” quipped his assistant, Jaiswal. “But I guess more are in the making.”

“What do you think is in there?”

“Locals say a Tata Nano, a cow, three pedestrians and probably even a BEST bus.” Jaiswal burst out laughing.

Mhatre was serious. “It’s not funny Jaiswal. I wonder what our country’s road network looks like from outer space.”

P.S.:- The Bloggeratti Community on Orkut/FB is organising a blogging contest. The theme is "WET IN THE RAIN".

For details, go to this link ==> BLOGGERATTI CONTEST LINK

TIME WON'T TELL

2011-06-25T14:57:00.004+05:30

“So, does it make sense?” asked Trilok, still perplexed. This had been the first fruitful excavation for the forty-something archaeologist.

Prof. Gogoi didn’t seem to hear him. Squatting on damp earth, the hieroglyph expert continued to study the tablet. “Do you have any idea about how old this thing might be?”

“You’re the expert, you tell me.”

The expert doffed his safari hat and beamed at the acknowledgement. “I’m certain this is of Gandolik origin. So, considering the fact that their civilisation was wiped out circa 800 BC...”

“More than 2800 years ago?” The archaeologist felt his heart thud to the tune of a Euro-trash track.

The professor nodded. He pulled out a brush and used it to gently rid the tablet of earth that had filled the grooves in its inscriptions. For an artifact this old, it was incredibly intact. The image of a naked female form squatting at the edge of a cliff, watching a strange-looking bundle fall, and the angry waves of the sea beneath lashing at the base of the cliff became more prominent.

The professor pulled a dusty diary from his pocket and made a note. Then he pushed it back in.

He carefully picked up one of the earthen platters Trilok had briefed him about earlier. Although it now seemed to be a mere shadow of its original form, it bore signs of something having been burnt on it.

Gogoi wore his hat and stood up. “Let’s see this cliff now, shall we?”

The cliff stood a good 150 feet above the sea below. The lashing of waves was constant. Gogoi knew that the Gandoliks deified nature. He pulled out his diary and made another note. He then nudged Trilok back to the main hall where the tablet and the platters lay.

A few silent moments later, Trilok quizzed him, “Well?”

“Let’s see now, earthen platters to burn what seems like incense...a tablet depicting a woman making a sacrifice to the sea god...this place seems to have been an altar.”

“An altar?”

“Yep.”

Trilok pondered in silence for a few minutes. Then he spoke up, “There’s an inscription I haven’t told you about yet, Professor. It’s on the wall outside the original doorway leading to this chamber. The entrance was covered by a huge boulder that must’ve come crashing down during the frequent seismic activity in those ages.”

“Where is it?”

“I’ll take you there, but just be careful. We’re yet to clear the spot of rocks and other loose rubble that we fear might give way any time.”

“No problem.”

Trilok led him to a wall in a corner of the main hall, where a thick tarpaulin sheet hung to prevent stones and rubble from entering the cave. He pulled it aside to let the expert walk through first, and followed him in. The duo crept through a thin crevice in the wall. Having made their way through, they turned around to face the other side of the wall.

Trilok pulled out his torch and ran it over the basalt wall. Inscriptions....

Although worn out, the signs were quite legible. Gogoi grabbed the torch from Trilok to take a better look. It bore Gandolik symbols, as he had expected. The carvings were surely the work of someone who knew his craft well. It didn’t take him much time to decipher the signs.

“Well?” asked an eager Trilok.

“Well mister archaeologist, the image you saw on the tablet inside the hall? That depicted a woman making a sacrifice to the sea god. A very big sacrifice”

“How big?”

“The bundle falling off the cliff? Seems to be a newborn. A firstborn child, perhaps.”

Trilok’s heart beat faster now. “God...so what you’re saying is...”

The professor’s tone turned morbid now. “Not just me, my friend, this tablet here says it too.” He dug his hands into his pockets. “Trilok...what you have uncovered here is an ancient sacrificial altar!”

FLASHBACK – CIRCA 950 BC

Ranghosa peered down the cliff. The waves kept lashing at its base. There was no way anything that had fallen down would pile up and rot. The platters to burn incense leaves would take care of remnant odours. The carvings on the tablet inside the cave were better than he had anticipated. Everything was perfect. The master sculptor beamed as he visualised the village chieftain showering praises on him for a job well done.

Only one aspect remained.

He walked towards the entrance of the cave to check on his pupil.

“Are you finished Tabri?” he asked his young apprentice. The boy had done a wonderful job so far.

“Yes master. Exactly as you had instructed. Take a look.”

Ranghosa picked up a flaming torch and inspected the wall. He couldn't help but notice the beauty of the inscriptions. Each symbol was properly aligned and the dimensions were consistent. Tabri was as good as the villagers had said he was. The inscriptions reflected the markings of someone who knew his craft quite well. The effort showed. He began to bless his pupil, even before he could finish his inspection.

Tabri saw that the master was pleased. He began dreaming about more jobs, recommendations, an audience with the King, gold coins, land, a mansion....

But suddenly, a loud shriek from his master yanked him out of his dream.

Ranghosa’s hands were on his head, his eyes were red with rage and his teeth were clenched. He yelled out in horror, “Holy Goddess of the Berry Shrub! Young man, is that how you spell TOILET???”

P.S. – Just a thought. Can anyone vouch for all the history that has been passed on to us being 100% accurate?

AND HE SAVES THE DAY

2011-05-30T23:39:00.004+05:30

The hero yawned loud enough to produce a rattle in the dingy confines of the roadside cafeteria. He could swear he had almost drowned out the relentless cackle on his walkie-talkie. It was someone from the control room, asking him if he was on his way to the spot. He replied in the affirmative, just like he had been doing since the past 30 minutes or so. Deciding that he’d had enough of the reminders, he reluctantly dropped his now-empty cutting chai and crushed his cigarette butt next to the ashtray. He picked up his hat, and walked towards his bike like a bored zombie. Five lazy minutes later, he managed to get his vehicle in motion.

“Why can’t Superman do everything?”, he muttered to himself.

A few minutes down and the hero had reached the west end of the bridge. There were people screaming and peering over the side of the bridge, peering into the lake below. The man who had reportedly been standing on the edge of the long steel structure and threatening to jump into the lake below was nowhere in sight. “Must’ve jumped already”, the hero thought to himself.

And then he saw the other hero. He was dressed just like him. In his mind, he thanked the stars. This was exactly what he'd been hoping for.

Both gave each other a knowing stare, which wasn't exactly friendly. They walked slowly towards each other, one step followed by the other, in a manner befitting a Hollywood Western showdown. Oblivious to the jeering crowds and the searing heat, they walked till they reached the centre of the bridge, marked by a thick red line. Then, almost in synchronised harmony, they peered down the side of the bridge at the spot where the man had apparently jumped. The hero crossed his fingers and waited patiently. The other man dressed like him did exactly the same.

Two hours later, the body emerged, bloated at the midriff and its skin a ghostly white. But the hero was least concerned about the loss of life - he had more or less prepared his mind for a casualty. He simply wanted to make sure it didn't get any worse.

He looked at the body and compared its position to the red line on the bridge. After satisfying himself that the body was floating at a spot comfortably beyond his side of the thick red line, he pumped his fist in the air and let out a winning war cry of sorts.

The hero had cheated misfortune yet again.

“Sorry, your jurisdiction”, he said loudly to the other man dressed just like him, as we walked towards his bike emphatically.

Drumrolls....Yet again, ~~Superman~~ Khakhi-Man had saved ~~the~~ his precious day.

Trust the average Indian cop to pass the buck every time there’s a job on hand. Hell, why just cops?

Cheers,

CRD

FOUR YEARS OF INSANITY

2011-05-16T21:20:00.002+05:30

Scripted In Sanity has completed 4 years! Never thought it'd make it this far and don't know how far I can take it from here.

Cheers,
CRD

GRAFT-CRAFT

2011-04-27T23:50:00.005+05:30

9 April 2011
Dear Diary,
Anna Hazare won his 98-hour long battle against corruption today. The government has finally bowed down to our demand to pass the ~~Janpal~~ Jan Lokpal Bill. Anna broke his fast with a glass of water this morning. I, Priyesh and Avantika joined thousands of other protesters who had assembled at Azad Maidan. All of us shouted out in unison when news of the government having relented broke out.

Our fight against corruption has only just begun. Down with the politicians! Damn you, ghoos-khor bastards!!

13 April 2011
Dear Diary,
I and Priyesh were on our way to our gym after work this evening in his red Chevy Beat. Our workout session usually starts at 7pm, and we were running late. So Priyesh stepped on the gas and unfortunately jumped a signal at Vakola. To make things worse, one of em moolah-hungry Paandus was immediately on our tail. He let us go only after Priyesh pulled out a 'shambhar-chi' note. I'm upset with our system. And I'm damn pissed with Priyesh. Can't believe the loser was with me at Azad Maidan only a few days ago 'fighting' corruption. Bloody Hypocrite!

19 April 2011
Dear Diary,
It's appraisal time at work, and suddenly everyone's sticking their noses around our boss' backside. Too bad I'm not used to ass-kissing. Avantika has been wearing low-necked tops since a week now. She's been frequenting the boss' cabin a lot of late. Last I heard, she's invited him for dinner during this weekend. So glad I'm not a manipulator like she is. What a whore!

24 April 2011
Dear Diary,
Going to meet Saloni's parents tonight. She told them about me only last night. I hope the parents like me. An extra-large bouquet and a pack of Cuban cigars should do the trick. Wish me luck!!

It's sad, but it's true. Every man wants to know the other's price.

P.S. - Howdy readers. Glad to be back after four months of hibernation. That's what love does to you. Well, I got engaged on March 13. The Facebook Badge widget on my blog stands as testimony to this event. Wedding bells will ring in October-end this year. I'm darn happy, and sometimes I think that's precisely what kept me away from writing all these days. So why did I get back to writing now? Am I sad? Hell no! The blogpost count for the year 2011 that screamed "ZERO" raised my demons.

--CRD

Now Playing : Disturbed - Down With The Sickness

SANTA CLAUS IS COMING TO TOWN

2010-12-26T21:07:00.008+05:30

Yet another Christmas has come and gone. Santa's doled out his gifts. I stopped asking him for gifts ever since I overgrew the biggest stocking available in the market. But since we humans like to receive, Santa's still in business.

Here's a list of things some of the rich and famous must've asked from Santa:-

Ashok Chavan - Nevermind my ministry. I want my flat back.

Tiger Woods - I want a trophy...and a new cellphone with QWERTY keypads.

Shane Warne - I need lotsa phone numbers. I don't work anymore..whadda you expect me to do all day for Christsakes?

Julian Assange - I want nothing. But I do know what YOU want. I'll keep your fans posted ;)

Veena Malik - I wanna go back to Pakistan

The Great Khali - Umphh gmmph jukssh ummph...

Begum Nawazish Ali - I wanna be a man...ermm..no, a woman....uhmmm..no wait...gimme some time to think meri jaan!

Arnab Goswami - Forget what I want. Tonight INDIA wants an answer Mr.Santa. Where were you all these months??

China - We want Tibet, Arunachal, Taipei, Aksai Chin....

Freddy Mercury's ghost - I want to ride my bicycle...

Himesh Reshammiya - (angrily) Mujhe tere ghar mein roti chaahiye!!!

Akshay Kumar - Mujhe ek hit chahiye

Abhishek Bachchan - Hey, that ain't fair, I came first....D'oh

A Raja - I want...ahem...psst...I'll call you

Indian opposition parties - Humein bhi scam-scam khelna hai!!

Pranab Mukherjee - zzzzzz

Dr.Manmohan Singh - What do you want me to want Soniaji?

Rajnikant - Come here Santa...tell me what you want..

CRD - I want lotsa comments!!

Feel free to add a few more via your comments.

Compliments of the season!!

Cheers, CRD

FAKEBOOK - THE TIGER-CUB

2010-11-01T00:25:00.007+05:30

A few friends sent me some funny emails last week. The emails had funny status messages of people who lived in times when FB didn't exist - Galileo and Julius Caesar to be precise. The mails were so funny, that they inspired me to create something on my own, based on current events.

This piece took me more than 4 hours to create, but it was really worth the effort. I could probably do this more often - a weekly/monthly series would be nice.

Seems the picture ain't very clear. So I suggest you open the image on a new window and then zoom in.

Oh by the way, let me put a disclaimer:- This article is meant to be humourous...and critical as well. As a blogger, I endeavour to put my freedom of expression to use. So please do not set out to burn me after reading this :P

PILED-UP EVIDENCE

2010-09-16T22:26:00.003+05:30

It's ironical, but work tends to make you lazy. Office-work to be precise. When we were younger, we used to spend a lot of energy running around, playing some sport or the other, carrying heavy school-bags, etc. In short, we had our daily dose of workouts back then.

But things change as soon as we're adults. We really do work much more, but in the process, our bottoms stay glued to our seats.

I've gained a lot of weight since the new job happened. The four-month workout and weight loss has finally gone to waste. My weighing machine said so. Even if it hadn't to, I'd have found out. The signs say it all.

Presenting, 10 signs that tell you that you've piled on the pounds:-

You need standing space as big as a 6-by-6 ki kholi, while you're in a bus or a train

When you cease to be beefy, and now look muttony (read fleshy)

When your umbrella is not wide enough to cover your whole body

When otherwise fierce and massive dogs move aside with their tails between their legs, every time you cross their path

When you begin to seethe with rage every time someone gets referred to as 'jaadya', never mind if they're strangers

When you stop using the family soap bar, and need one exclusively for yourself...and even that needs to be replaced every three days

When your stepping into a swimming pool causes floods in the tiled area around it

When your old baggy-shirts now fit like body-hugging baniyaans

When you begin to fall short of frame-space while getting solo pictures of yourself clicked

When football teams are desperate to have you join them, as a goalkeeper. And no matter how much you plead that you were trained as a midfielder and not as a goalie, they tell you that all you have to do is stand in front of the goalpost

Cheers
CRD

LOVE.PARASITE.

2010-08-25T21:58:00.002+05:30

You Cast Your Spell
I Burn In Hell

I Wish You Well
You Toll The Bell
Nay, Not The Bell
You Toll My Knell

Your Pleasure
My Pain
I'm Hurt
Again

I Bare My Soul
You Dig A Hole
I Brace For Falls
To Scale Your Wall

And While I Climb
My Feet They Slip
I Lick My Wounds
My Gash I Grip

And Though Submissive
To My Fate
In Earnest Hope
For Thee I Wait..

- CRD

WE WANT FREEDOM...

2010-08-15T16:55:00.006+05:30

India celebrates her 63rd Independence Day today. On this very day, 63 years ago, our erstwhile British colonists left us and our neighbour to settle scores with each other. Our forefathers decided we had finally gotten our freedom on that day.

Our generation, however, feels we're still in chains. We have yet to get freedom. The oppressors might be in a different garb and form, but they're still very much there. We're still in bondage, but we live in denial.

Today's India wants FREEDOM...

from...

...poverty
...illiteracy
...casteism
...corruption
...rising costs
...high electricity bills
...border conflicts
...civil war
...cockroaches & flies
...diseases
...sweat & body-odour
...hairfall
...aging
...religious fanaticism
...racism
...regionalism
...reservations, hell yeah!!
...violence
...bed bugs
...traffic jams
...stadium-sized craters on roads
...India TV
...saas-bahu soap operas
...rona-dhona and bitching on 'reality' shows
...Kites, Milenge Milenge and Raavan
...Ram Gopal Varma
...bullying superiors
...pollution
...global warming
...paan and gutkha stains
...spam mail
...teleshopping network
...calls to download caller tunes
...sleazy and unaesthetic condom & contraceptive-pill ads
...holier-than-thou self-righteous creatures
...God TV, Aastha Channel, Miracle Network,...
...CID and ACP Pradhyuman
...Aahat and its dancing cameraman

While we dream of freedom, here's wishing you yet another

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY!!

Cheers
CRD

P.S. - Feel free to add to the list via your comments. It'd be interesting to know my readers' take

WORLD CUP SPOILERS

2010-06-27T22:45:00.004+05:30

The FIFA World Cup 2010, being played in South Africa, is already in its pre-quarter final stages. It's an event that happens once in four years, and obviously football lovers like me have been looking forward to it for a long long time.

It's usually blokes, whose favourite teams fail to win the cup, who look forward to the next world cup, hoping their team will kick ass the next time around. My then favourite team, Argentina, failed at the quarter-final stages then. This time though, Spain is my favourite team.

There are a lot of things that make world sport events like these a big hit with viewers. Watching players play for national pride, and fans cheering, and rivalries play out - both on and off the field - banners, flags, et al, these are what make World Cups special.

This World Cup, however, has a few things which I don't quite like - or rather, which I absolutely abhor. They've kinda played spoilsport with my football-fever.

Presenting, things from FIFA World Cup 2010, South Africa that get on my nerves:-

The "Wavin Flag" Anthem - I just hate the song. Sounds less like a motivator, and more like as if a cranky kid is jeering at a grown-up. "When I get older, I'm gonna screw ya...I'm gonna kick yer ass, kick yer ass...!!" Bring on the Waka-Waka instead.
The Jabulani - The football being used at this World Cup, called the "Jabulani", which in Zulu means "rejoice", is a huge dampener. Apparently, it's difficult to control, and is absolutely unpredictable, what with the bends it takes, and its speed. It kinda has a mind of its own. No wonder football geniuses look like drunk retards this time around.
The Vuvuzelas - The "Ultimate" torture. Imagine a million mosquitoes buzzing around your ear, on a 'power-cut' night...This sounds worse than that. Apparently, it's an instrument that's played in churches in South Africa. The Churches there shouldn't be surprised if they see the number of parishioners dwindle over time. Blame the vuvuzelas. They're IRRITATING!!
Weird Hairdos - Blonde-permed beards, braided locks, mohawks, half-moon patches, green hair...some players have em all. And they're not a pretty sight. Check out the Algerian squad, for instance. You'll know what I mean.
EPL Duds - I'm a big fan of the English Premier League. I know a lot of players from there, and kinda follow their performances. So it's depressing to see how magicians within the league suddenly seem so amateurish on the world-stage. As we speak, the English team has crashed out of the World Cup, quite humbly. Whatever happened to stars like Rooney, Lampard, Gerrard, etc. Kinda reminds me...THE EPL clubs hardly have English players. Almost all of em are foreigners, with Englishmen only drafted in for training sessions.
Dearth of Goals - This has been a pretty low-scoring World Cup. Don't count the 7-0 drubbing that Portugal meted out to North Korea - that was like India playing Nepal in cricket. But seriously, when you watch football, you really look forward to goals being scored, and that has been lacking this time.
Diving Championship - This is a reason I hate sides like Portugal, Brazil, and most South-American sides. In spite of being rich in natural talent, they forget that they are footballers, and take to diving once every 5 seconds, just to win free-kicks and penalties.(Go check Cristiano Ronaldo's videos on youtube). The number of dives they put in in one match would put olympic board-divers to shame.

Anyway, got to get some sleep now, though I get that's gonna be a lil difficult now. Not only coz there's an Argentina-Mexico game coming up, but mainly coz I have a stomach infection that's getting a lil painful and uncomfortable. :( Hope I'm better by morning, coz I don't wanna miss office, lest I pile up a huge backlog.

Cheers
CRD

WHIMPER NO MORE...

2010-06-18T19:00:00.005+05:30

When you'd ask to be walked, I'd beg for some time,
And reluctantly, but surely, take you for your walks

When you'd feel hungry and beg for a bite,
I'd pull off a chunk and give it to you

When you'd scratch shut doors and demand to be let in,
I'd gladly pull the door open for you

When you'd jump on my lap and growl like a cub,
I'd give you your daily leg massage

When you'd turn around and show me your back,
I'd scratch it for you

Whenever there was an argument and we all raised our voices,
You'd tug at our knees, and we'd shut up

When you'd jump on my bed, and ask for your space,
I'd share my pillow with you

Whenever it'd thunder, and you'd shiver, and whimper in fear,
I'd hold you close to make you feel safe

But there you were, struggling to stay alive
fighting death...creeping death,
and I could do nothing...
nothing at all...
Absolutely helpless..

Now, as you lie in your muddy grave,
completely at rest, at peace finally,
the heavens pour down, and the thunder is at its loudest.

But I know, you'll shiver no more,
nor will you whimper...

It's our turn to whimper now.

Miss You Rocky,
We Love You

Wish I could tell you one last time

FINDING MR.RIGHT...

2010-05-28T22:56:00.004+05:30

She blew him a kiss and walked back towards us. I saw the love in his eyes as he saw her walk away.

They’d known each other for more than a year now. Everyone could see he loved her. But she was still in denial.

I whispered into her ear, “He loves you, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah”

“What about you, do you love him?”

“I dunno, I haven’t made my mind up yet”

“Why? What’s wrong? I thought you like him too”

“I do like him...but I need some time to think before I decide whether he’s Mr.Right or not.”

“How long does that usually take?”

“I dunno. But when I do, I’ll know it.”

Three months later, on Valentine’s, he sent her a huge bouquet. She gleamed as she took it from him and gave him a sweet little hug.

He had only recently gotten himself a new job. It wasn’t one that was very highly-paying, but it sure was decent.

I whispered to her again, “So, I guess you’ve made up your mind at last.”

“No I haven’t! For heaven’s sakes! You asked me only a few months back.”

“And you haven’t decided yet?”

“No...It’s a very important decision. How can I take such an important decision without thinking well about it”

“Guess you’re right”

A year later, I met them at a party. They never left each other’s side. They only had eyes for each other. They held hands throughout, and if I hadn’t to yell out loud to them, they’d probably never notice me.

I whispered to her, “Well???”

“Naw...I’m still thinking”

I didn’t pursue the matter any further and bade them both a goodbye.

Two weeks later, her facebook profile said she was “committed”

But the album, aptly titled “My engagement snaps” showed her with someone else.

When I met her, I whispered to her again, “So, how’d you meet him?”

“Met him almost two weeks ago. Our parents set us up. Guess what? He’s a green card holder!! I knew I’d find Mr.Right some day”

--- CRD

Now Playing : The Corrs - What Can I Do To Make You Love Me?

HAPPY 3rd ANNIVERSARY

2010-05-17T20:39:00.003+05:30

SCRIPTED IN SANITY completed 3 years on the 16th of May, 2010.

I can't believe it's lasted so long :)

Cheers
CRD

SURVIVAL INSTINCT?

2010-04-27T14:03:00.004+05:30

It was 4 in the noon...or early evening if you like. The bus wasn’t crowded, exactly as I’d expected – most offices in Mumbai leave at 6pm (on paper). I hopped onto the step-board casually, and strode in, fully-expecting a seat waiting for me. As fate would have it, there was one. Only, it was a ladies’ seat.

The day had been stressful so far – that morning, it had taken me almost 15 minutes to find directions to the office for my interview, and 10 more minutes to walk there. The wait at the bus-stop after the interview was a 20-minute ‘balance-shift-from-one-leg-to-another-and-back”, since there wasn’t any place to sit. So, when I saw the lone seat in the bus, and no standing female in sight, I instantly got seduced and made an athlete’s dash to it.

Three stops later, five people got into the bus, 4 men, and 1 slightly-plump, middle-aged woman. I immediately rose to my feet to award the seat to its rightful beneficiary, but I hadn’t even remotely foreseen what was to happen next.

As soon as I stood up, one of the men, a middle-aged portly man, with unkempt hair, a thick black-grey-white stubble, and unbuttoned shirt, pounced like a bloodhound towards the seat, like as if his life depended on it. He sat himself down with a sudden plonk, and immediately closed his eyes as if he had been stung by a sedating-syringe.

The woman reached the spot more than a hundred seconds later, the frown on her forehead and the scowl on her face clearly showing. She called out to the man, but he pretended like he didn’t hear her, only responding with a brushing of his nose, and a loud-and-clear yawn that would put Kumbhakaran to shame. She tapped on his shoulders for effect, but he only opened his eyes for a while to look at her, and then looked away with shut eyes and another yawn.

Before any self-proclaimed Good Samaritan could react and put the jerk in place, the woman took matters in her own hands and gave us all a demonstration of Woman-Power.

She tapped him harder on his shoulders, yanked him up by his arm, pointed to the “Ladies” sign, and sat herself down, to the utter horror and dismay of the jerk.

It was nice to see a woman who knew how to take care of herself, and assert herself.

Today’s women are absolutely independent, know their rights, and are willing to fight for them. They don’ take nonsense anymore. I looked the jerk in his face and scoffed at him, and congratulated the lady in my mind for her act of assertion.

Three stops later, a few more people entered the bus, which was now beginning to get crowded. One of them was a young, pregnant lady. People made way for her and she walked slowly and carefully towards the seats meant for ladies.

The middle-aged superwoman had noticed the lady board the bus. She looked up at the roof-panel above her head.

The sign placed there, which a few minutes ago only meant “reserved for ladies” for her, now read “reserved for carrying/pregnant women”.

In a split-second, she closed her eyes and pretended to be in deep slumber.

Cheers
CRD

P.S. - The pic has been taken from a blog written by a lady who absolutely hates teh fact that males plonk their asses on Ladies' seats :P. Stumbled upon this blog while searching for an apt photograph. Here's the URL - http://theladiesseat.blogspot.com/

HER BEST FRIEND...

2010-04-04T23:36:00.004+05:30

Sana and Reggie were classmates.

And they were best of friends.

Their friendship blossomed only in the middle of the academic year, when the two loners began sharing lunch and eventually benches. They were similar in almost all respects. Both hated speaking a lot, both were dreamers, both loved the simple things in life and didn't want too much from it.

And both loved to be with each other...

...until people started talking about them, and Reggie started getting conscious.

But Sana didn't mind the talking. She really liked Reggie a lot.

Reggie though, began to take Sana for granted.

In the month gone by, this was how days went and made her feel extremely upset.

•On day one, she saw him look upset, and asked him what was wrong, but he shrugged it off with a smile saying everything was okay.

•Being the last few days before they graduated and departed, she attended college only coz she didn't want to miss a day so that she could spend more time with him. But on day five, he told her how much he hated having to come to college every day. This made her upset.

•In week 2, she won an inter-collegiate contest, and the world called and messaged to wish her. Even people who weren't really her friends, and who hardly ever talked to her otherwise congratulated her. But he didn't. It was almost like he didn't have a clue at all. She felt hurt and unimportant.

•The next day, she had some good news that she didn't want to share with anyone else except him. She imagined how happy he would be to hear it from her mouth. But he didn't turn up that day. Her enthusiasm fizzled out

•Two days later, he finally came to college. She was seeing him after what seemed like ages. He was looking kinda cute that day. She wanted to tell him how handsome he looked, but chose not to, coz she was scared about how he'd react. It can be quite painful to keep things to yourself sometimes.

•As they left to go home, she saw him walk dejectedly out of the campus gates. She called out to him, more than a dozen times. She even ran out behind him and walked a few steps beside him, but he didn't notice her at all. She felt hurt and walked away

•The whole of next week, he didn’t attend college, simply coz ‘he was feeling lazy'. She called him up after a week, just to hear his voice, but his voice on the phone didn't sound the least happy

•On the seventh evening, he promised her that he would be coming the next day. She shooed off others who came to sit beside her, only to reserve a seat for him, and waited eagerly. 30 minutes into the lecture he messaged saying that he wasn't gonna come, and so she had to sit all alone for the rest of the day

•She gets terribly upset every time she thinks about him. Coz while she thinks of him as her best friend, and perhaps even more than that, she has no clue about what she means to him. Sometimes she 'knows' she means nothing to him at all...

It's very upsetting when someone is the world to you, but you don't feel as important to that person.

JERKS!!

2010-03-27T16:37:00.003+05:30

I stood on the platform, wiping the sweat off my brows, my neck, and my newly-shaved pate. The indicator which said 9:02 ST just a minute ago, suddenly blanked out. When it came back to life a minute later, it said 9:10 ST. I cursed under my breath – Central Railway never gives up cancelling trains. The announcement system blurted out something that sounded like Chinese mumbo-jumbo. I guessed it was about the godforsaken cancellation.

Train cancellations in Mumbai are a pain. Not only because your time management goes for a toss, but also because late and cancelled trains mean extra-crowded trains and thereby wastage of laundry expenses in a matter of seconds.

They were three of them. All of them had their shirts un-tucked and unbuttoned to the third button, had thick golden disco-chains adorning t heir necks, and wore thick ‘kadaas’ on their wrists. Two were short and stocky, while the third was super-slim and tall. All were in their early 30’s.

The 9:10 train arrived right on time, at 9:15 to be precise. As the train began screeching to a halt right in front of our eyes, the 3 of them raised their hands to touch the side of the engine, as if it were a deity. As part of their strategy, they kept their hands raised for a little longer, even after they had their touch, coz they knew the ladies’ compartment was what would arrive right after the engine.

2 of them managed to brush shoulders. But the tall one landed a bulls-eye. He smiled at the others vindictively. They sniggered in appreciation and waited for the train to halt.

No sooner had it halted than they started shoving, yelling and cussing in their mission to get in. They stepped in and landed knees and ‘el-blows’ on unsuspecting people. They had to get right in, to their brothers who were waiting for them. I followed them in after a mini-combat of my own. And I saw their brethren. A whole dozen of them, sitting comfortably – just 3 on a seat as opposed to others adjusting with 4 on 1. They didn’t let anyone occupy the ‘gully’ between the seats where they were sitting. A few poor chaps who tried were welcomed with a few choicest words. Luckier ones managed to get away with threatening pushes.

This was the Brotherhood’s den.

The 3 joined them.

Then they all started pulling out their weapons.

5 minutes later, when they were all ready to fire, they started in tandem….

Clang-Clang…..Clang-Clang-Clang….Clang-Clang-Clang….
“Raam Krishna Harey!!!...Raam Krishna Harey!!!........”

How I hate dholaks and manjeerays because of the jerks who wield them.

NOT AS IMPORTANT...

2010-03-27T13:10:00.001+05:30

It's very upsetting when someone is the world to you, but you feel you're not as important to that someone...

UNHOLY WAR...

2010-03-01T17:02:00.008+05:30

The place would be thronging with people in some time. He knew it well. He smacked his lips in anticipation. The larger the crowd, the bigger the body count. The chances of missing your shots also reduced significantly when the number of potential targets was large. He stayed put behind the bushes. He knew there might be others like him around, but he hoped no one else would come calling to share space - so what if there was enough space for three?

Hunters don't like sharing their spoils.

A minute later, a lone young lady came walking out of the building lobby, dressed in executive formals, all decked up, leather bag in tow. She seemed to be looking around suspiciously, as if she had a cue on what the plan was - his plan...

She was now just a few metres away from his den. He couldn't miss from here.

He felt his weapon again. It felt awesome. A sniper rifle. Brand new, smooth, well-finished.

And most importantly....fully loaded.

He pulled it out, trained it on his target, watched through the telescopic sight, and caught the moving image of the lady at the centre of the cross-hairs.

And then, when he was sure she was a goner, he pulled the trigger.

"AAHHHH...!!!"

She clutched her soaking-wet, blood-red blouse.

"YOU DIRTY PIG!!! I'LL TELL YOUR MOM ABOUT THIS!!!"

"BURA NA MAANO, HOLI HAI!!!", he screamed, and scampered off, deep into the garden.

Wish we had one of these colored-water spewing guns when we were young. Kids today have water guns resembling Sniper Rifles, AK-47's and Kalashnikovs.

HAPPY HOLI!!! Please keep it Holy :P

THEM LANGURS

2010-02-14T08:30:00.005+05:30

The Jungle could be a jungle from anywhere. It was typical. It had a variety of animals, lots of trees, and a pond from which all creatures drank.

The Lion, who was the King of the Jungle let everyone do as they pleased.

The Langurs were the real "Kings". They always moved around in groups, spreading chaos, and basically being what all langurs tried hard to be, a real pain.

Some Storks, Cranes, Ducks, and other birds went close to the pond to have a drink. A few Crocs, laying low in the shallow water, close to the marshes, waiting for prey, took advantage of the situation, snapped at them and crushed many of them with their mighty jaws. Atleast 20 birds died.

The Langurs sitting on top of the trees on the marshes saw what had happened. Being who they were, they were upset that another menace was hogging their limelight. So they passed a dictum saying that no one in the jungle should ever venture near the pond, and that no one from the pond should ever be allowed to step on forest land.

The Langurs kept a watch. Turtles and frogs were turned away, some were pelted with stones, while an unlucky few were killed.

King Kong, even though he was an ape himself, was quite rational and reasonable. He felt that it was unfair for all the other creatures of the pond to be discriminated against, simply because a few crocs were a nuisance. He wanted all creatures to be allowed to move around as they liked, as the Lion King had wanted, since they were all part of the ecology of the region.

This angered the Langurs. They decided that King Kong would not be allowed to eat of any fruit in the Jungle. They issued another dictum, that the birds should stop King Kong from eating any fruit, and if he did, they should drive him away, or report the matter.

The Langurs said that King Kong would not be allowed to eat, unless he APOLOGISED to the poor, hapless, victimised birds, and for HURTING their SENTIMENTS.

Ironically, all those poor, hapless, victimised birds who entertained King Kong were victimised by the Langurs themselves. They disturbed their nests, dropped their eggs, and broke the branches of the trees they lived in.

But they didn't care to apologise for their own actions. There was no regret or remorse.

But the Birds still support King Kong.

The public is with King Khan.

Down with the Langurs!!!

P.S. - Sorry all ye SRK fans, I really do think he acts like a Monkey :P.
To the Langurs in the story - No Apologies.
To the real langurs in the Animal kingdom - I'm REALLY Sorry for the Insult!

RANDOM RAMBLINGS - HUMAN NATURE

2010-02-09T11:27:00.003+05:30

It's another day-off.

A really unwanted day-off, much like all the others declared by our institute in this 4th and final semester, owing to non-availability of faculty. For the information of new visitors, I'm pursuing an M.M.S. (Mumbai University's fancy jargonesque term for a course ala an MBA, called the Master of Management Studies) in Finance from XIMR, Mumbai. I must admit, the 3rd semester was hell, and we always wished we had days off - anyone would, if they had lectures and workshops scheduled for 12 hours a day, seven days a week.

But now, things are different. We hardly have anything happening. If we do have anything scheduled, it's only for 3 hours, and then we're on our way home. No more sitting together, whining about the torture we're being subjected to, no more pass-it-around lunch sessions, no more candid rendezvous with buddies. We hardly get to talk anymore. Hardly 50% of us turn up. In fact, had it not been for the 50% compulsory attendance requirements, a lot of my buddies confess they'd never return to the institute at all. It's upsetting. And the worst thing is that it seems it's only me who's upset about it. The others don't seem to give a hoot. I understand that everyone's here to get their degrees and make careers for themselves. But hey, we've spent close to two years together, can you snap all ties just like that? Hell, we're still humans aren't we? Or are we ‘Managers’ already? It's depressing.

I've been spending these days trying to read up on stuff. I've also been watching a lot of movies lately - old and new alike.

Watched a really weird movie last evening. Its a Stanley Kubrick (of ‘Space Odyssey’ and ‘Eyes Wide Shut’ fame) classic from 1971 called ‘A Clockwork Orange’. It talks about how difficult it is to change someone's inherent nature, and how dangerous it can be if we tried. The protagonist, Alex, is a hooligan, who, along with his three gang-mates, indulges in 'Ultraviolence' - loot, vandalism and rape - at will. He eventually gets arrested and sentenced for murder, but becomes a subject for an experiment that seeks to change a violent person by administering a serum and certain procedures such that trigger reactions in his mind that make him feel nauseous whenever he tries doing something wrong. Although he stops doing the wrong things, the fact is that he's stopped only because he has no choice - its more survival-instinct and self-interest, than a change from within. The evil within him is only being suppressed, but it's still very much there.

Great idea. The movie got me thinking. I really want to watch all of Kubrick's movies now, or at least read the books on which his movies are based. Get hold of the movie and watch it, if you will, but make sure you don't watch it with your folks, coz trust me, you'll find yourselves cringing in embarrassment and shock - yeah, lots of uncomforting scenes.

Another thought - ever wondered how we suddenly develop sympathies for otherwise-terrible people when we see them do one good deed? On the other hand, honestly consider the quantum of hatred we have for a do-gooder who one day commits one bad mistake, or does something you could never imagine him doing. Doesn't the sympathy for the bad guy surpass the hatred for the good one by light years?

What's the Psychological term for this? Calling all Psychology students...

Cheers
CRD

NOT SWEET ENOUGH...

2010-01-28T07:55:00.007+05:30

Sly paddled his arms and legs as fast as he could. The piercing pain in his abdomen had now been replaced by a stiff numbness. He somehow felt he still had a chance to save himself, if only he could find a way to get out of the water. The nearest surface right now was the bottom of the river he was in, the second- nearest surface was just a few metres ahead of him, but it was a good 50 feet above the river-level. He had fallen off a cliff.

Up on the edge of the cliff, Curt watched him struggle. He tried hard to think, but nothing came to his mind. It was almost as if he was too shocked to react. Beads of sweat nestled between the ridges of his anxious forehead, threatening to avalanche down any moment. Sly was still alive - there was still some hope. He had to do something - real quick.

Finally gathering himself, he ran to the SUV, and pulled a long rope and a spare tyre from the bonnet. He quickly began tying the rope to the tyre, to create a make-shift float. Even from here he could still hear the water splashing below - a sign of life. Within a few seconds he was ready with his lifeline, and he quickly made it back to the spot.

"Hold onto this!!!", he shouted out, hoping that Sly had heard him, and he dropped the lifeline into the river below. He felt something tug at the rope - Sly had found it. The next moment, the tension on the rope was 10-times, or maybe 30-times - he couldn't tell. All he knew was that he had to pull it up with all his might. And he pulled.

Three minutes of pulling, and Sly was on the cliff again. He lay on the ground, tired, and breathing heavily. His abdomen was bleeding, and his guts were beginning to spill out. But he still had hope - he was still breathing.

So Curt pulled out his pistol and shot him again, this time in the head, just to make sure he wouldn't survive.

The now-brainless body lay motionless after a few jerks. Curt stood above it, with his eyes closed and arms stretched out, waiting for the feeling of retribution to overcome him.

But nothing happened.

When he opened his eyes a minute later, he saw Sly's spirit emerge from the heap of flesh, blood and gooey stuff, and stare at him. It grinned at him, as if promising to get back. And then, it flew out into the woods.

Curt, stood right there, confused. He wasn't the least scared. He started thinking again.

Two minutes later, when he had made up his mind, he aimed the pistol at his own head and pulled the trigger.

Within seconds of his body finally lying still, his spirit rushed out, and flew out in the direction Sly's spirit had taken.

Revenge is sweet. But sometimes it ain't sweet enough if you've been wronged so much, that no amount of vengeance can get rid of the pain.

Now Playing : "Whitesnake - Judgment Day"

THE ANGEL AND THE PAUPER - REQUIEM

2010-01-17T20:25:00.006+05:30

A Sequel to THE ANGEL AND THE PAUPER <---Click to read

Almost seven moons had passed now. The Pauper hadn't seen or heard from her since she smiled and waved a bye to him. He had waited patiently - just for a mere glance, or even a faint echo of her flapping wings.

But he hadn't had any of it ever since.

Today was the feast of the Mighty One. The entire universe would be chanting the Mighty One's name. They'd all be dressed in their very best. Everyone would greet each other and exchange goodies, and hugs. Love and peace would be all around. Everyone would join in.

So would the angels.

And he knew it. So he waited eagerly.

But she didn't come.

He began to get worried. So he wrote a small hello on a piece of rag that he tore from his clothing, and tied it by a string to the leg of a dove that he managed to catch. He kissed the dove, whispered the name of his angel to it, and sent it soaring up into the sky, hoping that his angel would find it and come back, or at least send a message back with the dove.

And he waited.

But all he did was wait. And the wait was painful. He waited till the day almost came to a close.

And then he found them.

The dove lay motionless on the ground a few metres away from the place he first met his Angel. Its eyelids were shut, its feathers ravaged and scattered, its claws curled tight, and its neck wrung backwards. The message was still tied to its leg, and it seemed that it hadn't been read at all.

Next to the dove, lay something even more broken. It was savagely smashed, punctured brutally, and was absolutely dry and withering.

It was a heart...

The Pauper stared into the distance. shell-shocked to react.

That's when he saw her, at a distance, flying away. She hadn't even cared to look at him. She didn't even wait to mock at him or spit in his face.

Eventually, a tear trickled down his left eye. And then the right one. And then they came pouring down. And finally he wailed out into the lonely night.

He wailed till the sun rose in the horizon.

And then, when he was done, the pauper resigned to his fate.

He should've known that LOVE was FORBIDDEN for unfortunate ones like himself.

He tore out another patch from the little clothing that he had, and used it to sew the heart back into one piece. And then he put it back where he knew it belonged.

And he hoped it would beat again.

Now playing : Bombay Vikings - Kahan Ho Tum

Kahaan Ho Tum? Mujhe Batao,
Zara Kareeb Se Pukaaro,
Kahaan Kahaan Dhundoo Tumko?
Main Awaara Dar-Badar,
Nazar Na Aaye Tum Magar,
Chup Gaye Ho Tum Kahaan, Ho Tum Kidhar?

Ab Toh Dil Hai Darta Sehraa, Dariya Aakhon Ki Namee,
Yaadon Ka Laga Hai Pehraa Har Kahin,
Jaana, Tumse Tha Jo Raushan Mera Pyar Pe Yakeen,
Goom Hai Kahaan? Kal Tak Toh Tha Yaheen?
Oh Humnasheen...

Tumhi Ne Toh Kahaa Tha Mujhse,
"Subah Nayee Toh Aayegi",
Isi Ummeed Ke Sahaare,
Kar Raha Hu Rehguzar,
Kaho Kahaan Ho, Humsafar?
Chup Gaye Ho Tum Kahaan, Ho Tum Kidhar?

Ab Toh Dil Hai Darta Sehraa, Dariya Aakhon Ki Namee,
Yaadon Ka Laga Hai Pehraa Har Kahin,
Jaana, Tumse Tha Jo Raushan Mera Pyar Pe Yakeen,
Goom Hai Kahaan? Kal Tak Toh Tha Yaheen?
Oh Humnasheen...

Mujhe Aawaaz Do,
Mere Khwaabon Ke Sahaaron,
Phir Se Aawaaz Do,
Kahaan Ho Tum, Pukaaro...
Oh...
Mere Khwaabon Ke Sahaaron...
Oh...
Mujhe Tum Pukaaro

Tumse Tha Jo Raushan Mera Pyar Pe Yakeen,
Goom Hai Kahaan? Kal Tak Toh Tha Yaheen..

Ab Toh Dil Hai Darta Sehraa, Dariya Aakhon Ki Namee,
Yaadon Ka Laga Hai Pehraa Har Kahin,
Jaana, Tumse Tha Jo Raushan Mera Pyar Pe Yakeen,
Goom Hai Kahaan? Kal Tak Toh Tha Yaheen?
HUMNASHEEN.....

RESOLUTIONS OF THE FAMOUS

2010-01-01T18:43:00.003+05:30

The New Year Has come. Most people (except for losers like me...LOSERS RULE!!!) prefer bringing in the New Year partying the night away with friends, or random strangers even. Some like to cuddle with their sweethearts. Owners of lonely hearts might want to gaze up at the stars and the moon in the sky. Busy ones would prefer enjoying their once-a-year peaceful 8-hours plus of uninterrupted sleep (provided the folks in the neighborhood aren't too obsessed about fireworks). But almost everyone has 'New Year' resolutions. Of course, not many would like to admit it, for feared of being labelled as wusses who need to plan everything in life.

I'd made a few resolutions the last time around. Current status, you ask? Screwed up almost all of em. Didn't lose weight, am still an emotional fool, and I still can't dance or play the guitar. But I did manage to better my blogging average, to a little more than 2 posts a month, in spite of the gruelling course. Its simple..the more pissed or upset you are, the more you blog. Do I see heads nodding in approval already?

Up until the last year, I always had something to post about my New-Year Resolutions. This time around though, I think I'll keep em to myself. But here's a list of Resolutions of some famous personalities. These are just rumours, so keep em to yourselves, and if you can't, then keep the author's name to yourselves...

Here goes:

1. Himesh Reshammiya - I will restrict my acting skills only to stage shows and reality shows.

2. L.K.Advani - I will prove it to them that I still have a few years to go before retirement. Abhi toh main jawaan hoon...

3. Raj Thakeray - I will keep track of all Migrants to give them Grand Welcomes. Also, I will keep track of all late-night western-themed parties for the same reason.

4. Uddhav Thakeray - I will strive to gain access to all that info before Raj does.

5. Suresh Kalmadi - I will make the Common Wealth Games in Delhi a reality...in 2010. Oops...it's already here?? OMG!

6. Robin Uthappa and Dinesh Karthik - We will feature in more games than sub-standard ads.

7. Tiger Woods - I will concentrate strictly on golf holes, and keep my balls on the right courses.

8. Shiney Ahuja - I will convince my on-screen heroines than I'm not as bad in REEL life.

9. Tanaaz and Bakhtiyar Irani, Delnaz Irani, Rakhi Sawant, Bobby Darling, etc etc - We will not do any more reality shows (Now this one's definitely just a rumour)

10. All Miss-India's - We will not enter Bollywood, ever! (And so is this one!)

11. Uday Chopra - I Will stop acting in movies

12. Audiences - We will make sure he keeps his word

13. TV Producers - We will completely stop making saas-bahu serials...Laughter shows are the in-thing as far as torture goes today.

14. Elesh (of Rakhi Sawant ka swayamwar fame) - I will pray to 'Jee-juss' that I get married this year

15. Indian Politicians - We will wash our feet before putting them in our own mouths the next time.

16. Aamir Khan - I've had enough of roles as 21-year olds. I will play a 22-year old henceforth.

17. Doomsayers - We will let the world know that the end comes in 2012.

18. God - (without even looking, in true babu-style) - 2012?? Huh..baad mein aana...

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Cheers

CRD

THE ANGEL AND THE PAUPER

2009-12-22T23:55:00.002+05:30

The Angel glided across the skies. O'er meadows she flew, through puffy clouds she passed. She flew with her angel friends. With grace she flew. With poise she flew. She flew without a care or worry. The pauper down below watched her sail through the clouds in awe.

The pauper...

The pauper was miserable. In shambles he was. His clothes were were torn and tattered. They had patches sewn all over. He was shabby and dirty. His hands and legs bore bruises from an incident that happened long ago. The hair on his head was sparse, his beard unkempt and untidy. He was unhappy with what others called "life". He was unhappy.

But whenever he saw the Angel, a smile shone bright on his broken face. He'd watch her for hours. Sometimes he'd watch her from the corner of his eye, lest he scare her. But he could never take his eyes off her. He admired her, nay..he adored her. He Loved her. He forgot all his worries when he saw the Angel...HIS Angel.

One day he thought of speaking to HIS Angel. He mustered enough courage and called out to her.

"Yes", she asked him curiously.

"Well", said the pauper with lips that trembled nervously, "I really adore the way you fly in the sky so high...you make the sky seem even more beautiful than it actually is. You make the whole world seem A WONDERFUL PLACE, when in reality, it isn't exactly all that great. Not for me atleast."

The Angel smiled gently.

The pauper continued, "I want something from you"

"Erm...what's that?", she asked, a little perplexed.

"You won't get angry, will you?". The pauper fumbled.

"Well...no...I won't...now tell me", she was worried now.

"That glittering gem that you've hidden under your sleeve...can you give it to me? Please?"

The Angel let out a gentle laugh. She felt a little awkward, but she gawked at the innocence of the miserable pauper. "I'm so sorry, I can't...it's...it's my heart...I need it to survive." She smiled gently again, sorry that she couldn't help.

"Ohh...is there any way I could get it? Any way at all?"

"Well, its got to be earned. Maybe if you were an Angel yourself, and if I knew you well enough and trusted you enough to spend eternity with you..."

"Aww...I am but an ordinary mortal...I'm no angel...what do I do now?"

The Angel paused to think. She'd realised by now that the pauper genuinely meant what he'd said...

"I really don't know what to say. I think I'll need some time to think about your request. Could you wait?", she asked of him sheepishly.

"Of course, of course I can wait!", he said, happy that he'd finally told her, and relieved that she wasn't upset.

"Well then, see you around", she smiled.

"Yeah, see you", he managed to murmur, all the while looking into her eyes, without batting an eyelid.

She soared back up into the skies, surprised at what had happened just moments ago. She wondered why she had even promised to think about it. Could she ever give her heart to a mere mortal...

Her heart? Could she? Wasn't it too precious to give away? Giving it away, wouldn't it mean giving your life away?

She reached below her sleeve to check on her heart.

She felt her heart beat.

But she also felt something else.

She felt around for it, and found something else pounding within her.

She pulled it out.

It was torn and tattered, and had a patch sewn over it to keep it together.

It was a heart...

She smiled. Because she now knew whom it belonged to...

Down below, the pauper waited eagerly for an Angel.

HIS Angel...

WISH YOU KNEW...

2009-12-04T21:40:00.002+05:30

A Slight Little Trembling Bend Of My Lips
Won't Be The Only Way To Smile At You Then

A Stolen Glance From The Corner Of My Eye
Won't Be The Only Way To Look At You Then

A Shed Of A Teardrop And Lips On A Photograph
Won't Be The Only Way To Kiss You Then

WISH I'D TOLD YOU ALREADY...

.......But Then, I Really Wonder,
If You'd Ever Even Laugh At Me Then....

FARMING UNCONTROLLED

2009-11-15T10:44:00.002+05:30

Namaskaram Readers. I'm back after a longggg exam-ridden hiatus. A little more about the exams maybe later. But I have to tell you, there's something that kept me going through those stressful study material-filled days, and page and printout infested nights...if you're on Facebook, you're most probably already hooked onto it. If you're not on Facebook, say hello to FarmVille.

Well, I'm not gonna spend too much time explaining the game to those who don't know what FarmVille is. Basically, it's a game in which you grow crops and trees, rear animals, etc. In the process, you get lotsa cash, get to decorate your farm, and get to expand your farm. You gain experience, and you reach various levels, which determines which crops you get to grow, and what you're allowed to buy.

I'm kinda addicted to the game now, and so are a few of my MBA classmates. I know I;m addicted. If you're not sure you're addicted, here's presenting a few pointers..

You're a Farmville Addict if...

Your Finance professor is talking "Portfolio" and you're already thinking "43 Trees, 21 chicken, 7 goats...."
Another professor talks 'expansion' and you're already dreaming of a bigger farm
You look at everyone who's on Facebook as a potential "neighbour", and you don't mind inviting even people you don't like that much
You've decided that you're going to adopt a child. And you've even decided the name - it's gonna be either "Pink Cow" or "Brown Cow"
Your dream home looks like a brown cottage or a manor. If you're not aiming too high, it might look like a barn or even a chicken coop.
Your resume reads like this - Name: CRD, XP: 31124, Level: 27, Achievements: Farm Size 22 x 22, 2 Grain Silos, 3 Tombstones, Tractor-Seeder-Harvester Trio, etc...
Your idea of gifts to friends is an "animal topiary", or "hay bales"...
You plan on gifting your sweetheart a naughty birthday gift...naw, not lingerie...a banana tree
You have dreams of smoothly cruising on a wipe open road, with the wind blowing through your hair.........................on your pink tractor
Your idea of getting back at people who've dissed you is deciding not to fertilize their farm

Cheers

CRD

NO MERCY

2009-10-13T01:18:00.006+05:30

The wagon came to a screeching halt right in front of the huge palace gates. Twelve stood guard. He remembered the days he used to guard these very gates. He got off and stood with his chin held high, gawking at the splendour and majesty of the spotless white palace outer walls. The palace was huge, and he knew none could ever match this one.

He once lived here. He had to know...

The guards frowned as he walked past them. They knew they weren't supposed to be mean, but they couldn't help it. But then again, they reckoned it was okay to be mean once in a while, more so with this uninvited visitor.

The Uninvited Visitor...

He walked past a million of them. He used to be one of their kind. He used to be one of them. He was an outcast now.

The Outcast...

Walking past the palace gardens and courtyard, he encountered a thousand glares and angry stares. He didn't mind it. He was used to it now. It didn't make him wince one bit. On the contrary, he felt a sense of power.

Power...the same power that gave him the courage to look at the master in his face...the same power that seduced him to the great fall from grace.

As he entered the visiting area and sat himself on the huge satin-cushioned chair meant for Guests of Honour, he looked around at the cordon that was awaiting the arrival of the master.

A few minutes later, one of them announced the entry of the "Master" and they all bowed down in unison.

Not him...he wouldn't bow anymore.

Unless of course the "Master" welcomed him back to the fold.

The Master came out to a loud welcome from his servants. He walked briskly to his huge chair, opposite the Guest chair. Without looking even once at the Outcast, he said with disdain.

"I have just 2 minutes. Tell what what it is that brings you here once again."

"Here's the list of all those who've been convicted this quarter. Its been quite a task. Lots of guilty ones these days."

"Well, with you around..."

"Sire, I'm just doing my job."

"Of course, of course. You do enjoy your job don't you?"

"If you could be a little less harsh on me, I'm only doing a surveillance job. I'm more like a law enforcer, ready to swoop on anyone who goes against your will. Am I not still serving you this way?"

The Master looked away, "Is that all?"

"What about the Amnesty I requested for? How long before I get it?"

"You really think you're going to get it? You don't deserve it"

"I don't? I've served you for ages...All I do is commit one so-called 'mistake', and I'm banished for life? You forgive those newbies inspite of their hundred misdoings before finally deciding to crack a whip on them, and I get no chance for redemption at all? Is that Justice?"

"You were never supposed to make a mistake. You knew that didn't you?"

"No redemption for me? No amnesty?"

The Master simply got up and walked away without saying a word. Three guards quickly walked towards the Outcast and with their eyes, showed him the way out.

The Outcast took a long walk out of the palace. He stepped into his waiting wagon, and like always, made a promise to himself to prove it one day to the Master, that he is not the most undeserving. More convictions the next time, he decided, and revised his targets.

Its not easy being the Devil. And its never easy to negotiate with God.

The Devil gets no Mercy.

Now Playing : Iron Maiden - Hallowed Be Thy Name

Im waiting in my cold cell when the bell begins to chime
Reflecting on my past life and it doesnt have much time
Coz at 5 o'clock they take me to the gallows pole
The sands of time for me are running low

When the priest comes to read me the last rites
I take a look through the bars at the last sights
Of a world that has gone very wrong for me
Can it be there's some sort of error
Hard to stop the surmounting terror
Is it really the end, not some crazy dream?

Somebody please tell me that I'm dreaming
It's not so easy to stop from screaming
But words escape me when I try to speak
Tears flow but why am I crying?
After all I'm not afraid of dying
Dont I believe that there is never an end?

As the guards march me out to the courtyard
Somebody calls from a cell, "God be with you"
If there's a God, why has he let me die?
As I walk all my life drifts before me
And though the end is near I'm not sorry
Catch my soul coz its willing to fly away

Mark my words, believe my soul lives on
Please don't worry now that I have gone
I've gone beyond to seek the truth
When you know that your time is close at hand
Maybe then you'll begin to understand
Life down there is just a strange illusion.

Hallowed Be Thy Name
Hallowed Be Thy Name...

This song is about a prisoner who's being sent to the gallows. He's probably been wrongfully convicted. He reflects about his past life, and regrets having placed faith in divinity. He goes through a myriad of emotions, experiencing both fear, and also claiming he's not scared of death. The song ends with him being executed, but not before he says "The Lord's Prayer" in earnest hope of an Afterlife.

Cheers
CRD

KSHAN

2009-10-11T00:01:00.000+05:30

This is about "Kshan" - a Private Limited Co which my very good friend Tarun Makhija is associated with. It is a helpline service for those who require blodd during emergencies. Its much better than the usual blood donation drives, because this one actually helps connect those in need and donors through a helpline. Do have a look and support it if you identify with the cause.

Kshan - a 24x7 service which connect patients in need of blood to volunteering blood donors using smart SMS technology Few of us have been working on Kshan a concept that was initiated about 3 years back by a bunch of motivated students and young professionals in Mumbai. Kshan is now envisioned to be a 24x7 service which will help connect patients in need of blood during emergencies to a large group of volunteering blood donors using smart SMS technology.
smsGupShup, India fastest growing mobile community platform is supporting us in our SMS technology needs.

There are 3 beliefs driving this initiative:
Cutting edge SMS technology can be used effectively to help connect volunteering blood donors directly with patients in need of blood There is a pressing need to support patients who need blood transfusion throughout their entire lives e.g., thalassemics, haemophiliacs, anaemicsIn an ideal world, patients should not be required to pay for blood that has been donated.
We are addressing all these points in our effort and are currently operational in Mumbai with reasonable success so far. (http://www.kshan.org/images/times_of_india.jpg)
But the mission is to get this model to work across India - in major cities. We need your help to spread the word on this. Following are the 3 ways you can get involved and make a difference.

1. If you are based in India, would be much appreciated if you could register as a donor HERE. You will receive a SMS request every time someone close to your location is in need of blood. We will provide the patients contact information to you and you will touch base with them directly, only if you have the time to volunteer. We are only "connecting" a potential donor to the patient in need of blood. Nothing more! Visit http://www.kshan.org/ to read more.

2. Click on this LINK to share Kshan's donor registration page in your Facebook account and encourage your India network to register as donors there.

3. We are looking to engage student bodies/societies. We need a lot of active blood donors to make this a success and we will find such volunteers only in colleges. So let me know if you have any ideas/introductions you can help me with please!

Follow Kshan on Twitter
Follow Kshan on Facebook Causes

PAINKILLER

2009-10-03T21:56:00.005+05:30

This is something I and a fellow-blogger, Shruti aka Shane, who's also a dear friend, co-wrote sometime in July. Just thought I'd post it here since the traffic at the blog I posted it on was'nt very encouraging. I reckoned it'd get a little more readership here, as it deserves. Here goes..

The pain was still there. Her whole body ached. So did her heart. Every time she would see the marks on her body, she would feel filthy. The pain was taking a toll on her.

She went back to the dressing table and pulled out the drawer. The three pills were still there. All three in different colours and shapes. Painkillers. She'd bought three different types just to find out which one worked best for her. Got them without a prescription. Money buys everything.

Except happiness.

He came home late at night, 1 a.m. to be precise. Drunk as usual. He yelled out for dinner. He wasted half of it. She silently cleaned the mess. He switched on the television and played it all full volume while she went to bed. He came back an hour later, and tried waking her up. He slapped her when she didn't wake up the first time. She was aware that it was time for him to feed on her. He tore off her night gown and made LUST to her. He stunk of cheap liquor. And then he fell asleep, while she wept bitterly. She wept pain…dismay…

He was a pain.

She opened her eyes only to see him lying in bed like a monster. His arms dirtied with the lust, his mind sickened of rape and his breath choked with stink. It was all suffocating for her. Tormenting, to be precise. She put his body aside, covered hers with the sheet and walked to the dressing table. She popped one of the pills. The pain barely subsided.

The next night he came home a little early. But he was drunk again. He had a CD in his hand. He pushed away the dinner she had set out and spread out a cheap bar on the dinner table. He played the CD. Hardcore Porn. He drooled. She went to bed in disgust. He followed her in an hour later. She pretended to be asleep when she noticed the wild look in his eyes. He sat himself on the bed and barked her an order to wake up. She pulled up the sheets. He slapped her and pulled her up. He tried on her what he saw on the CD. He was rough. He was violent. He hurt her. She writhed in pain.

He was a pain.

As always, when he was in his wild dreams of the tutorial he saw on the CD, she covered her bleeding body with the sheet again and walked to the dressing table. She popped another pill. This one worked slightly better than the one she had last night. But the pain still remained.

Tonight he came home pretty early. This time he wasn't drunk. He told her he needed 2lakhs in cash, and that she should fetch it from her parents. She refused. He pulled out the thick leather belt that held his trousers and began whipping her. She screamed in pain. He didn't stop. She begged him to stop. He didn't.

She grabbed a half-empty whiskey bottle lying on the dinner table and smashed it on his temple. He dropped down. He wasn't moving. She grabbed another bottle and smashed it in his face. She loved the way his blood slowly travelled along his skin. That skin which had been anything but pure. She was in love with him…. But in love with the dead him!

She went to her dressing table, pulled out the drawer and picked up the last pill. She walked back to the still body, picked up a bottle of rum, popped the pill, and took a swig from the bottle. She swept the hair off her face.

The pain was gone...probably forever.

She'd finally found a Painkiller that worked.

Shruti aka Shane & CRD

JAWAAB DO

2009-09-30T01:07:00.005+05:30

Mehkhaane Se Bhi Zyaada,
Saraab Hai Tera Mujhpar,
Ke Khwaab Dekhta Hun,
Main Hosh Mein Bhi Rehkar...

Kuch Yun Tadpaati Ho Tum,
Ki Behlaata Sharaab Nahin,
Sau Lafzon Ke Sau Khat Bheje Hain,
Ab Tak Koi Jawaab Nahin

Har Roz Ki Tarah Kal,
Ek Tohfa Bheja Tumko,
Tumne Bhi Kal Palatkar,
Ek Tohfey Se Nawaaza...

Kaantey Thay Tere Tohfey,
Koi Mehektey Gulaab Nahin,
Sau Lafzon Ke Sau Khat Bheje Hain,
Ab Tak Koi Jawaab Nahin

Main Diljala, Phir Kyun Sazaa?
Meri Tadap Par Kyun Mazaa?
Haskar Sitam Kyun Dhaati Ho?
Mujhse Kyu Duur Jaati Ho?

Jaley Pe Marham Maltey Hain,
Chidaktey Tezaab Nahin,
Sau Lafzon Ke Sau Khat Bheje Hain,
Ab Tak Koi Jawaab Nahin

Har Pal Zubaan Par Dua Hai,
Mujhse Judaa Mera Khuda Hai,
Na Sunta Hai Woh Haal-e-Zaar,
Karke Laachaar, Gumshuda Hai...

Ho Tum Hi Mera Khuda, Aur Khuda Ki Hi Tarah,
Tumhein Mere Zakhmon Ka Hisaab Nahin,
Sau Lafzon Ke Sau Khat Bheje Hain,
Ab Tak Koi Jawaab Nahin...

P.S. - I SOOO Hate The Days I Write Poems...

Now Playing -> Fuzon - Aankhon Ke Saagar

BACK TO SQUARE ONE...

2009-09-18T00:44:00.004+05:30

Its back to where it all began once again. I feel the same uneasy feeling I had during the first few weeks since I first met them.

I feel like a stranger in their midst.

Even if there's a conversation happening, I feel completely left out. That vibe and connection that was so strong only a few weeks ago has suddenly vanished.

If I have something to say, they don't seem to be listening.

They don't tag me along for tea anymore, and if I ask them, they keep me waiting.

My jokes aint funny anymore..I really miss their guffaws. They only laugh when I say something serious nowadays.

Some of them always have something nasty to say about me...I guess I'm to blame...I've been too much of a clown. No one takes me seriously anymore.

Its back to where it all started. I can't be my usual self till I'm sure that I'm accepted. That sense of belonging has faded a wee bit.

The sad thing is that in a few months, we will all go on to separate paths. Maybe we'll never see each other again.

Sometimes I remember those happy times we shared, and think how lucky I've been. At other times, I wonder why I always break the vow I made to myself a little more than a year ago - a vow not to make friends or emotional attachments ever again.

Is this why they say "Familiarity breeds contempt" ?

BLIND LOVE

2009-09-08T21:08:00.003+05:30

The Cafeteria was crowded, as usual. I was sitting, aimlessly, sipping on my Cuppa, when I saw them descending the staircase. She gently tip-toed her way down, and he followed right after her, matching her steps, helping her negotiate the descent. He had one strong arm around her waist, and the other hand was holding her arm, firmly, yet gently. As soon as the last step was conquered, he whispered something into her ear, and she let out an endearing laugh. Then she whispered back to him, and he smiled. A few arm-in-arm slow steps later, they were seated at the table next to mine.

Between sips, I dared to glance at the couple. the girl was really pretty. Her skin was glowing and spotless, her hair fringed and bearing a tinge of auburn. A few tufts settled on her face like kiss-curls. Her nose was petite and cute. And here eyes...oh...those eyes...

But the guy...he was a stark contrast to the heavenly creature seated next to him. He was stout, and seemed quite clumsy. His fingers were short and stubby. His face was full of craters and acme. The stubble looked anything but manly, and he was almost completely bald. The buck-teeth didn't make him look any better. But they were smiling...they both were smiling and whispering sweet nothings to each other.

Her eyes....

I noticed something strange about her eyes. They could never quite focus on the guy's face. Maybe his face really was quite detestable. They either stared straight into the horizon, or stayed fixed on the table under them. Those eyes...

Two minutes later, I knew better.

She was BLIND...How I wished that she wasn't.

The cacophony around me suddenly caught my attention.

A few tables away, a group of girls was looking in the direction of a gym-sculpted, body-hugging t-shirt wearing dude, drooling and giggling.

Somewhere else, a group of guys ogled shamelessly at a "campus-babe", who was generously flaunting well-toned thighs and cleavage. She, in turn, seemed to be enjoying the attention, and smirked to herself.

At another table, a girl was telling her other girl-pals about this innocent geek who admired her, and describing the things he had done for her. They were laughing at how "dumb" he was.

Then I looked back at the table next to me.

The guy was holding a spoonful of the soup he had just ordered to the girl's mouth. She sipped. Then she groped for his hand, and when she'd found it, she kissed it. He smiled through his buck-teeth once again.

A thought occurred to me.

Somehow, this time, I was glad that she was Blind.

LITTLE LAMB

2009-09-02T22:42:00.004+05:30

Christo Had A Little Lamb

Little Lamb

Christo Had A Little Lamb

Its Fleece Was..Erm..Well..Not Really As White As Snow

But Yeah,

Everywhere That Christo Went

Christo Went

Everywhere That Christo Went

That Lamb Was Sure To Go

Bow-Wow!!!

Rocky had a haircut and miraculously turned from a dog to a goat :P

Cheers

LETTERS FROM THE FORTRESS

2009-08-20T06:54:00.002+05:30

I'd built a fortress a thousand moons ago, after the massive plunder the Sorceress inflicted on my city. This fortress would keep my city safe from the pain and the gore that love condemns with. This fortress could never be breached. Neither human, nor soul, nor the Black Wind could breach this fortress I'd made. The walls were so high that even eagles couldn't scale them. They were so thick that even the might of a hundred beasts could never breach them.

The walls of this fortress I'd tried to strengthen with many layers of stone - "Stone-hearted". I'd man the watch-towers to keep intruders at bay. I'd soar the gloomy sky 'round the high walls to make sure no one came near. Intruders who tried to hard would be greeted with a wild roar, and chased out till they'd promise themselves that they'd never return. I'd scan the scents carried by the Black Wind for signs of trespassers, and the hollowness within the fortress made hearing even the faintest sound easy to pick.

No one, yes, no one could have ever entered my fortress. My Fortress could have stood forever, untouched by plunder and the weather of time. For a thousand suns, it stood like a giant, warning off every soul that dreamt of laying seige and capturing it.

And then one day, you stood in front of my Fortress. You hadn't the Magic of a Sorceress, nor the guile of a WOlf, nor the strength of a raging sea. All you had were a gentle smile, a soft voice, and hearty laugh, a caring heart, and an aura that spake of your innocence and your vulnerability. I don't know if your aura lied, but I felt you were like me.

You were like me, and I like you - nay, I LOVE you.

So I've torn down the walls of my Fortress. I've pulled down the watch-towers. I've peeled off the layers of stone now.

I'm begging you to enter the gates of my Fortress. See, I've thrown the gates wide open. Nay - I've broken them down, all so that you could enter without trouble.

I'm begging you to come right in.

Once you're in, lets together rebuild this Fortress. Let this be OUR new Fortress. A Fortress that would keep us safe and away from the Evil World outside.

A Fortress that wouldn't let even the mighty Black Wind partake of our love. A Fortress just for OUR Love.

These pics are taken from the Vasai/Bassein Fort, Vasai, Thane, Maharashtra. Had gone there omn a trip on the 16th of August. Lovely place. For the fort's history CLICK THIS.

For more pictures from the trip, visit my orkut album. Click THIS

WILD WILD "PAS-CHIM"

2009-08-09T19:32:00.006+05:30

The two men were now at each other's throats, holding each other by the collar. They didn't say a word. They just looked deep into each other's eyes with seething rage and puffing chests. But they both knew that this wasn't how true cowboys settled scores. This definitely called for a duel. So what if the fight was only over a seat at the saloon?

Just two tables away, an old man downed his tequila, and wiped his lips dry. He smiled.

A few minutes later, the two cowboys were standing on the dusty road outside the saloon, with their backs against each other, and their Big-Tex revolvers gripped firmly in their hands. Kish was a little tense, even though he'd won a dozen duels before, at the same spot. A few metres away, Clara, the mini-skirted waitress stood with her foot against the wall, showing off her well-toned thighs and legs and pouting suggestively at Kish. Kish winked at her. The old man was standing next to her, watching every movement that the two men made.

Kish began to count.

"One", and the two men walked one pace ahead.

The old man smiled.

"Two" and another step ahead.

The old man's smile grew a little more wide.

"Three" - a step..."Four" - another step..."Five" - yet another step.

The old man's eyes now began to go moist.

"Six"

"Seven"...

The old man was now beaming with pride. He thought he heard an Indian flute play a lovely tune in the distance, and his mind wandered to the past, when Kish didn't know how to count.

He said to himself....

"Yakeen Nahin Aata...Yeh Wohi Kishan Hai?"

Again in the distance, he heard Kavita Krishnamoorthy sing in a melodious voice.

Poorab Se Soorya Uga,

Faailaa Ujiyaara,

Jaagi Har Disha Disha

Jaaga Jag Saara..

Poorab Se Soorya Uga,

Faailaa Ujiyaara

Chalo Padhaayein, Kuch Kar Dikhaayein

Raashtriya Saaksharta Mission!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S. - What happened at the end, I leave to your imagination :P

Maybe its a damn stupid story. But I'm Soooo Sorry. Im Just Plain BORED :d

Cheers

LAUGH...

2009-07-31T23:39:00.003+05:30

Hickory Dickory Dock

Christo Comes Up To Talk

He Bobs His Head

They Laugh Aloud

Hickory Dickory Dock.....

Its Not Always Fun To Make Others Laugh......especially when you didn't intend to...

Now Playing

Puddle Of Mudd - Blurry

Everything's so blurry

and everyone's so fake

and everybody's empty

and everything is so messed up

pre-occupied without you

I cannot live at all

My whole world surrounds you

I stumble then I crawl

You could be my someone

you could be my scene

know that i'll protect you

from all of the obscene

Wonder what you're doing

wonder where you are

there's oceans in between us

but that's not very far

Can you take it all away?

can you take it all away?

well you shoved it in my face

this pain you gave to me

Can you take it all away?

can you take it all away?

well you shoved it my face

Everyone is changing

there's no one left that's real

to make up your own ending

let me know just how you feel

cause I am lost without you

I cannot live at all

my whole world surrounds you

I stumble then I crawl

You could be my someone

you could be my scene

you know that i will save you

from all of the unclean

I wonder what you're doing

I wonder where you are

There's oceans in between us

but that's not very far

Nobody told me what you thought

nobody told me what to say

everyone showed you where to turn

told you when to runaway

nobody told you where to hide

nobody told you what to say

everyone showed you where to turn

showed you when to runaway

This pain you gave to me

You take it all

You take it all away...

This pain you gave to me

You take it all away

This pain you gave to me

Take it all away

This pain you gave to me

BETTER-OFF...

2009-07-19T19:27:00.006+05:30

Its 10 weeks now since he hadn't come face to face with her. Seemed like ages to him. He knew it hardly mattered to her. He was desperate to speak to her. If she was desperate at all herself, it would probably be desperation to get rid of him. But the heart plays games - or is it the mind? And the games played are usually rough.

He had phoned her 6 weeks back - after 4 weeks of psyching himself up for the 'brave' move - with some vague reason, and they'd had a lovely 36-minute conversation. He thought of calling her again, but I didn't have a convincing alibi. He knew she wasn't the types to fall for just any trick. Since then he'd been constantly reminding her of his existence by sending her silly sms jokes and inspirational messages. She used to message him back as well, with a "hi" or a "good morning/evening/night" at the end of the message.

But this was till 2 weeks back. She had suddenly stopped all contact for some reason. He hadn't stopped his message-barrage yet. But there was absolutely no reply at all. It was as if he didn't exist at all. He wondered what must've happened. Every time he'd send a message, he'd keep staring at his cellphone-screen, waiting anxiously for a reply. 10 minutes after every message he'd send her, if there was no reply, he'd get very upset, and keep looking back at his cellphone at 10-minute intervals.

This wasn't the first time this was happening to him though. Oh no, it wasn't! His mind raced back to 3 years ago. He was in love then - it was real love. It WAS!! But that one ended with a lot of pain, a longing, anxiety and Futility. And with depression. He had become a zombie then. Somehow he had managed to pull himself out of the pain only a year ago.

But he was now beginning to feel the same longing, the same pining, the same anxiety, the same wait....the same Futility!!!

A relapse of 3 years of pain? Hell, he didn't want that again! No he DIDN'T!!!

He picked up his cellphone and got rid of all the mushy stuff that could tempt him into sharing them. He got rid of his inbox. He deleted all the mushy songs he'd loaded in his playlist. All he needed to do now was get replacements - to fill up his now empty playlist.

He decided it was Heavy Metal now till the next season came. It was time to call Metallica, Megadeth, Pantera, Slayer, Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, Opeth, Killswitch Engage, Lamb Of God, King Diamond, Puddle of Mudd, and others to the party.

Maybe he was better off alone.

NOW PLAYING : MARILYN MANSON - TAINTED LOVE

P.S. There's a CONTEST happening on the BLOGGERRATTI Community on Orkut, the theme being "WALKING IN THE RAIN".

Click --> CONTEST DETAILS.

I HAVE DONE 9 STUPID THINGS OUT OF 37

2009-07-15T15:43:00.008+05:30

Tagged by: Prajwala

The more [x]’s the “dumber” you are.

[x] Gum has fallen out of your mouth when you were talking

[x] Gum has fallen out of your mouth when you were NOT talking

[ ] You have ran into a glass/screen door

[ ] You have jumped out of a moving vehicle

[x] You have thought of something funny while walking by yourself

[x] Laughed, then watched people give you weird looks

So far: 3

Well, yeah, gum has fallen off my mouth both while speaking and while not, coz I spat it out. Now that aint stupid, is it?

When you're all alone, you think (unless you're a Zombie). So yeah, I must've thought about something funny, and laughed about it. ALONE! So What? :P

[ ] You have run into a tree/bush.

[ ] You know that it IS possible to lick your elbow

[ ] You have tried to lick your elbow… a few times

[ ] You never knew that the Alphabet and Twinkle Twinkle Little

star have the same rhythm.

[x] You just tried to sing them.

Well, yeah, just tried singing them. Just to make sure whether the high notes in the 2 octet matched exactly.

Didn't understand what I just said? Mission Accomplished! :d

So far: 4

[ ] You have tripped on your shoelace and fallen.

[x] You have choked on your own spit .

[ ] You have seen the Matrix and still don’t get it.

[x] You’ve never seen the Matrix.

[x] You type only with two fingers.

Ok, the spit part is grosse, so maybe I'm dumb there:P

I think whoever made the Matrix is either dumb, or thinks his audience is dumb! Hell , even Lawrence Fishburne (Morpheus) once admitted candidly that he did not understand the plot, so why blame me if I stopped watching the movie midway?

I type with 2 fingers. I'm not DUMB! I have FAST fingers!

So far: 7

[ ] You have accidentally caught something on fire

[ ] You tried to drink out of a straw, but it went into your

nose/eyes.

[x] You have caught yourself drooling.

[ ] You have fallen asleep in class and fell outta your chair

Well yeah. Not just once, many times!

Don't ask me what I was looking at on those occasions. :P

So far: 8

[ ] Sometimes you just stop thinking

[ ] You are telling a story and forget what you were talking about

[ ] People often shake their heads and walk away from you

[ ] You are often told to use your “inside voice”.

[ ] You use your fingers to do simple math

So far: 8

Phew!

[ ] You have eaten a bug

[ ] You are taking this test when you should be doing something

more important

[ ] You have put your clothes on backwards or inside out, and

didn’t realize it

[ ] You’ve looked all over for something and realized it was in

your hand

[ ] You have ran around naked in your house.

So far: 8

Hah!

[ ] You repost bulletins because you are scared that what they say

will happen to you if you don’t.

[ ] You break a lot of things.

[ ] Your friends know not to use big words around you.

[x] You tilt your head when you’re confused

[ ] You have fallen out of your chair before

So far: 9

My Lucky Number!!!

[ ] When you’re lying in bed, you try to find pictures in the

texture of the ceiling or wall

[ ] The word “ummmmm” is used many times a day.

TOTAL: 9

HAH! Told You its my Lucky Number! :)

9 out of 37.

24% !!!

I FAIL!!

I AINT DUMB!

WOOHOO!!

I pass this tag to whoever is vela, or is facing a fatal bout of Writers' block.

Takhliya!!

P.S. There's a CONTEST happening on the BLOGGERRATTI Community on Orkut, the theme being "WALKING IN THE RAIN".

Click --> CONTEST DETAILS.

THEM SELF-OBSESSED BASTARDS

2009-07-12T11:09:00.005+05:30

Disclaimer: All characters in this post are fictitious and do not bear resemblance to any person living or dead, or hanging in between. Any resemblance would be a coincidence.

If it is NOT a coincidence, and a character does resemble someone, that someone needs serious and urgent help, and a really hard kick on his/her backside :P

Somewhere in a troubled state in India

B_ _ _ _ ji - Its my birthday next year...haaaaynnn. Build me a statue.

Crony - Oh but madamjee, you already have a dozen all over the state. And that's not counting the 60 elephant statues you've unveiled.

B_ _ _ _ ji - Chup raho badtameez...else I'll have you plastered in one of them. haaaynnn...What's the status of the donation drive for my birthday party at the Taj?

Crony - Hotel Taj in Mumbai? But that's....

B_ _ _ _ ji - The Taj Mahal of Agra, you daay-um phool. haayynnn...Did people donate enough for my birthday cake?

Crony - Of course maidum-jee. Our extortionists are doing a good job. Only 1 fool dared to protest, and he's been packed off to another world. heehee.

B_ _ _ _ ji - Good good. So am I going to have a 100 kg cake this time? Last time's 52 kg one was sooo iss-small..haaynn haaynn?

Crony - 100 kg? That's it? Oh no maidumjee, we're making one the size of a statue this time. And we've arranged for someone to train you on handling a bulldozer too.

B_ _ _ _ ji - A bulldozer?? Why?

Crony - To cut the cake na maidumjee. Big cake no?

B_ _ _ _ ji - Oh good good. I haaynn like it. haaynn haaynnn. So how much have we spent already?

Crony - We haven't even touched 100 crores maidumjee. Don't worry.

B_ _ _ _ ji - You haven't crossed 100 crores yet? How dare you say that? What have you peepul been doing? Build me more statues! FAST!! Are you doing this injustice to me because I am a gareeb Dalit ki beti? Boo-hoo. You cheap upper class kameene-log. Don't you know I'm a living Goddess? Dalits will never forgive you.

Crony - What about those fools who keep complaining that they are hungry and unemployed, and need food, education and employment?

B_ _ _ _ ji - Arre, I'm building statues na? For their benefit only. They will pray to my statues and they will be saved, no?

Crony - You are a genius maidumjee! Dhanya ho aapka! Aap DEVI ho!!

B_ _ _ _ ji - I know! haaaynnnn!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somewhere in Blogosphere

Soil-eatery-crapper - Hey dude. I 'am' participated in a contest for best blogger. Will you votes for me?

Me - Dude, I need to be fair here. Show me all the nominated posts and I'll vote for the best, if I find time to read.

Soil-eatery-crapper - You wanting to read all? Why dude? I'm telling you na, I'm among the bestest. Right now I am 2nd. I just need 3 votes to lead.

Me - Dude, I said I'll be fair. I'm not gonna vote for you just coz I know you.

Soil-eatery-crapper - Ok I've mailed you 'a' award...no..3 awards for your blog. Now will you vote? Vote na please.....

Me - Show me all the nominations dude.

Soil-eatery-crapper - Here.

URL 1

URL 2

URL 3

Me - Hey, they re all of your own blog.

Soil-eatery-crapper - Of course. I'm only making it easy for you na. I'm shortlisting for making easy for you.

Me - Sorry dude, but...

Soil-eatery-crapper - And oh, 'by the ways', one of your posts has been nominated for most humorous post of 2009 on my bloggers' community.

Me - Which one?

Soil-eatery-crapper -

URL..this one.

Me - Eek. That's not my funniest post. And what do I see, 3 of your own posts have been nominated in the same category? None of em are funny, though your vocab sure is.

Soil-eatery-crapper - Yeah yeah, whatever. So are you gonna vote now?

Me - Nope

Soil-eatery-crapper - Okay, any of your other blogger friends 'is' online?

THE ANCIENT TREE ON WHICH IT HUNG

2009-07-04T13:43:00.008+05:30

Dark was the night and weird the atmosphere. It rained from time to time. Gusts of wind shook the nearby forest. Between thunderclaps and the moaning of jackals could be heard the eerie laughter of spirits. But King Vikramaditya swerved not. He climbed the ancient tree once again and brought the corpse down. He flung it over his shoulders and walked towards the cremation ground with a determination to keep complete silence as he had vowed to the sage.

However, as soon as he began crossing the desolate cremation ground, with the corpse lying on his shoulder, the spirit that possessed the corpse said, "O King, I can't understand what your aim is. What is it that you wish, for which you're undergoing such difficulties? It is midnight, pitch dark, and no one can see anything. Aren't you frightened? Why are you risking your life amidst wild animals, ghosts, and poisonous creatures? Its been decades already since you first started this silly routine. Aren't you tired already?"

'I sure am', mumbled King Vikramaditya to himself, careful not to break his vow of silence. He kept walking.

"Well, I'm out of ideas and exotic names to weave a long story. So let me ask you a mathematical question."

'Dammit......should've paid attention during those darn arithmetic classes', thought the King to himself, and waited for the question to be thrown at him.

Betaal continued, "Someshwar from Janakpuri in the Kingdom of Ujjain, joined the Varanasi University. He had 4 subjects in the last year of his study. If he scored 37, 45, 29 and 33 respectively out of 100 in each subject, and needed an aggregate score of 35% in order to clear the course, what was his academic result? If you know the answer and still keep mum, your head will be blown into a thousand pieces."

Already feeling his head reel at the seemingly tricky riddle, the naive King shrugged his shoulders and said, "Pass".

"Holy Devil...you've got it right again eh? But you've broken your vow of silence again, silly boy! Hah!", laughed Betaal, and zoomed off, back towards the ancient tree.

But when he reached the spot, the tree had fallen. A couple of chainsaw-wielding men, were sitting on its massive trunk, already calculating how many tonnes of timber they had laid their hands on.

With no where else to dangle from, the spirit, carrying the corpse with it, went back and clung to King Vikramaditya's drooping shoulders.

SAVE TREES.....NOT JUST THE LIVING, BUT EVEN THE DEAD NEED THEM!

Wonder how many of you have ever read the Indian comic books of old, like 'Chandamama' and 'Tinkle'. I grew up with them. I preferred Chandamama more than Tinkle, coz Tinkle had more of rustic slapstick humor, the kind they have on the gazillion stand-up comedy shows we have on TV nowadays. Champak was a strict no-no, it had terrible English. Chandamama on the other hand had lovely stories, with morals and learnings. MAny of these stories were based on mythology, the vedas, and ancient Indian History.

Unforunately, today's kids are hooked onto Archie's. Which I personally feel is more suitable to 'tweens'.

Cheers

BEATING THE FREAKING HEAT

2009-06-15T21:55:00.007+05:30

Above the hills, along the blue,

Round the bright air with footing true,

To please the child, to paint the rose,

The gardener of the World, he goes

Thats how the great poet, Robert Louis Stevenson describes the Sun, in his famous poem, "The Summer Sun"

"To Please the child, to paint the rose???..The Sun???" Thats surely not how we Indians would look att he Sun. Maybe the Sun out there in England is a milder brother of the one we have out here. Especially for those who live in Mumbai, Summer has less to do with blooming gossamer than it has to do with sticky apparel, melting foreheads and smelly underarms. We don't even have a winter out here. Tell em folks in England that the temperature is a 'pleasant' 23 degrees Celcius in Winter and they'll laugh at you, coz thats what their Summers usually are like.

So, for all those pissed-off victims of the Summer Heat - presenting a list of things you could do to Beat The Heat

Seen those ads on TV? - "Duniya Ka Sabse Chota AC?", "Thanda Thanda Powder", "Thanda Thanda Cool Cool". Well, nows your chance to check if these really work. Go shopping and buy all of these prickly heat powders and oils and what not's. Take a tub-full of water, mix all of these in it to prepare a concoction of your own. Store the resulting paste in bottles and dab it on your body, or your scalp, or anywhere you get hot (pun intended), before you go out in the Heat. It ought to make you the coolest living being on Earth (so what if the paste made you look like an albino Zombie?) If it works, do let me know.

Invest in a huge plastic bath tub. Stay in it all day long. Consider getting wheelchair-like wheels attached to its sides so that you could move around in it as well. Stay fresh all day long!

Warning - getting someone to join you in it will result in a counter-effect, coz that way, you'll feel hot.

This one's for guys - Don the Salman "I hate my shirt" Khan look, and go topless. Gals, please don't try this outside your home - spare us guys the heat.

For relief from the heat till Retirement or Death (whichever comes first) - Join the Indian Army....then hope that they post you to Ladakh or the North East. You'll either live or die with the cold weather, or die in a cold-blooded attack. "Main kya hai?? Cold na??"

Sing the Kolkata Knight Riders anthem. It didn't fetch them too many wins, but maybe it could help bring in some rain. you don't believe me? See their records, they lost a lot of points due to rain-washed matches and the Duckworth-Lewis rule. Unbelieveable? Believe It!!

Pray for more heat. Maybe God will do the exact opposite this time as well.

On the flip-side, he might decide to grant you your wish this time. Your risk completely!

Sing Raag Malhar. If you're a Good Singer, maybe the Rain Gods will get pleased and send em rains. If you're a bad singer, people will pay you to shut up. The money can be used to invest in an AC.

This one's for all those who get admonished for arriving late to office. Most offices today have AC's. So do yourself a favour, and reach office on time, or even before time. Stay back in office late, even after office hours. That way, you enjoy more time in an airconditioned environment, without an extra load on your personal electricity bill, and also boost your executive image. Cool weather and better appraisals...hai na double faayda?

Try one of the 1000's of fishy products they sell through the doubly fishy Teleshopping network ads shown on TV after midnight. There might definitely be a dozen out there that claim to beat the heat. What if they don't solve the heat problem? Well, you'll probably go cold with the rude shock you receive after realising that you've been duped of your hard earned money.

If nothing works, then live with it dammit! Look at those people who live in deserts for inspiration.

Adios

This post won the 1st Runner-up position at the Bloggeratti "Summer Heat" Contest, held in June, 2009.

BAD INFLUENCE

2009-06-05T00:23:00.008+05:30

The traffic signal was only a few metres away now, and the yellow light had just begun to blink. There were just four or five odd cars ahead, all of them small ones, and Randy knew he'd easily be able to dodge them and beat the signal if he stepped on the pedal a little harder. But that's not what he intended to do. This was probably the first time time he had ever wanted the lights to turn red before he could pass under.

After all, it wasn't everyday that your car got hijacked. The man with the mohawk hairdo and the gun had been in his car since the time he had moved his car out from the mall's driving lot, or probably much before that. Ever since he had revealed himself, he had been holding his weapon against his ribs.

Randy was hoping that his "Emergency Alert" key on his brand new GPS-enabled Roth Cellular had worked, and that the cops would be ready. waiting somewhere along the way to rescue him from the weirdo in the backseat. Maybe they were waiting in the cabin under the signal-post. He began to slow down, eagerly hoping that the signal would turn red any moment now.

"What the fuck are you doin Shitface??? Go faster!", yelped the punk in a hurried, gruff, yet low voice.

"Err..I didn't slow down..."

*Thwack* - the gun's butt landed hard on his temple, but not hard enough to knock him out.

"I said Drive FASTER. You've got to beat that signal !!! "

"Oww! Erm..Yeah"

Randy pretended to lose a little control while moving a little fast. A good delay-tactic he'd learnt from one of the millions of Hollywood flicks he loved watching.

And just when they were a couple of metres away from it, the signal flared RED, and Randy's feet were quick to jump on the clutch-brake duo.

"Bastard"

"Its red dude, I can't jump a signal. We'll both get caught. You don't want that, do you?"

"Well, if I get caught, you'll be comin with me too shitface!!"

"You really think so??"

"You don't believe me eh? Don't try to be a smart ass, dickhead. If I hit the slammer, you're gonna gimme company!! Okay?"

"Yeah right"

Just then a couple of armed cops appeared as if out of thin air. Both came charging towards the stationary SUV.

One of them barked, "Come out with your hands behind your head. Drop your weapons if you have any!!!"

Randy and the Punk both didn't say a word. Noth came out and did as they were told to.

The cops seemed to recognise the freak. While one of them spelt out the rights and handcuffed the Punk, the other looked at Randy as if he felt sorry for him.

"You're not moving...OK?"

"Sure officer! I'll co-operate. thanks for coming on time. You've been really quick. Thanx a lot!!"

"Yeah", said the officer, followed by something that sounded like "Tsk Tsk". Then he pulled out his radio and quickly started barking orders.

As the handcuffed Punk was being led away, he laughed out loud at Randy and spat in his direction.

"See you in jail DiCKHEAD!!", he spewed venom and laughed like a maniac.

'He's probably gone nuts', Randy thought to himself. 'Guess I'll make a move'

Just then a mean-looking traffic officer arrived on a meaner-looking two-wheeler. he got off real quick and ran towards Randy.

"You're coming with me pal !", he said in a gruff voice.

"For reporting formalities? Sure!! "

"Nope", said a cop who came up from behind the traffic officer, with handcuffs dangling from his hand raised high, "You're hitting the slammer"

"Huh? Why me??". Randy's face went red with both shock and anger.

"That Punk who hijacked yer car...."

Randy interrupted him, "What about him?"

"Well, his name's LICKER !!"

"AWW SHUCKS!!", said Randy as he held up his clenched fists.

______________________________________________________________

'NEVER DRIVE UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF LIQUOR', OR ANYTHING THAT SOUNDS LIKE IT!!

I COULD SMELL IT....

2009-05-20T21:46:00.005+05:30

I was back home, tired from a day of hard work. Damn STUPID clerical work, but hard work. The heat this summer has been unbearable, which is why I'm glad I haven't had to go on field visits (not in farming lingo) yet. I took off my shoes, pelted them at the shoe shelf, ditto with my socks, minus the thud, went to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, pulled out the coldest 2 litre bottle my hands could feel and began filling my tank.

Got the bottle out to the living room. Switched on the TV and watched the Knight Riders beat the Rajasthan Royals in between long swigs, and munched on some roasted Moong Dal.

And then I felt it. I could feel it rush through my nostrils. It touched every corner of my nostrils on its way down. It filled my lungs. The rusty smell made me nostalgic. I'd been waiting for this ever since summer began.

THE SMELL OF WET EARTH. THE FIRST DRIZZLE OF MONSOON.

HEAVEN!!!

HAPPY 2nd BDAY!!!

2009-05-16T00:18:00.002+05:30

HAPPY 2nd BDAY BLOGGIE!!!

My Blog, once known as DREAM ARENA, and now SCRIPTED IN SANITY, is 2 years old now. Never knew that It'd grow to be 2 when I started out.

Hope to see many more birthdays :)

Keep the greetings coming :P

UNTITLED

2009-05-09T20:01:00.008+05:30

This was something I, and a now out-of-touch netpal and blogger, Rohini had drawn together on one of our many Yahoo Messenger Doddle sessions, more than a year back. The red half is hers, and the white part is mine.

I don't quite remember what her part means, but lemme explain my part of the doodle. I've made a clock, with 4 quadrants. Each quadrant, as you can see, is showing a different emotion. Life is always like that, we have seasons of sorrow, of fear, of anger, of joy, etc. So lemme title my part as "Life-Time".

Dunno what to name Rohini's part. I leave it to the readers.

Cheers

IRONY!!!

2009-05-01T15:27:00.007+05:30

Isn't it ironical...

...that we citizens whine so much about corruption in the system, and yet would not think twice before paying a bribe just to get our work done faster, or to get out of litigation, or to avoid getting booked for traffic rule violations, etc?

...that we all long for young and educated politicians, and yet none of us educated youth wanna ever be found even a mile away from a political office?

...that we elect representatives every 5 years, and most of em are seen only once in 5 years - asking for votes?

...that one man's Terrorist is another's Freedom Fighter?

Why the discrimination? The people who are waging Jihad in Kashmir, the LTTE, the Bodos, are all terrorists. And so were those who fought for India's freedom using arms and killing people.

Blunt, but true. We can't label similar people differently simply to appease our egos.

...that we condemn the Taliban and their jungle-raj so much, and condemn lawless-ness, and yet label it outrageous when Terrorists like Ajmal Qasab are given a fair trial?

We can't just go out and hang him in public...he has to be given an opportunity to defend himself, and then when he is found guilty (which he will, of course), can he be punished. When will the idiots understand this. We're a democracy damnit!!!! Everyone is equal in a democracy. Everyone deserves a trial.

...that everyone's keen that Afzal Guru be hanged ASAP for attacking the Parliament, when almost all of us would fantasise doing the same thing ourselves?

I mean, imagine that, we'd have gotten rid of all the scum of the earth :P

But seriously, why is the Judgment taking soo long?

...and finally...

...that International Labour Day is clebrated not by working, but by granting yet another holiday? :P.

Happy Workers' Day!!!!

When Is International Bloggers' Day??