Clock Work Orang-utan

2008-01-11T22:47:00.000-08:00

Overwhelmed !!!!!

2007-06-23T07:56:00.000-07:00

You wait and wait

but it never comes...

then suddenly hell just spills over...

staring down from my lofty perch...

the prima donna with the yellow top skims through

on the gravel trap flush with slush...

circular multi colored hues float along...

seemingly distant shadows trying to keep dry..

rabbi strums at some corner shop, "main tha, tu thi, aur thi dilli bass..."

the lofty perch is no more.. its just a ivory tower waiting to be washed away..

the city is getting its first wash... the lost cloths are are seen floating away along the nearby drain..

rabbi strums on - "aur main hoon, tu hain, aur hain dilli bass..."

the showers have just begun.. the rats retreat into the nooks, corners, cracks and holes..

waiting for them to flooded ?? has the city dozed off or has it just woken up..

rabbi seems to be on a marathon - "par kahaan hain iss shehar ka falsafa"

the wind starts to howl, thunder cracks at a close proximity..

the endless colors continue to float along.. direction less.. the nearest nook, the coziest corner, the driest hold..

"par kahan hai iss shehar ka falsafa" you keep asking ?

where my city's soul ?

The point being you fear what you dont understand !!!!

2007-04-27T12:19:00.000-07:00

Sound of My silence

itch.. itch.. scratch.. scratch.. itch.. scratch.. itch .. itch .. scratch....
gurgghh... gurghhh.. arghh... arghh...........

2006-03-07T23:50:00.000-08:00

The Coo Cluck Clan - The revenge of the fowl

Some guy like you, apparently once said, 'the meek shall inherit the earth.'

Well I say, 'the meek have ruled for long, the time of the chicken has come.'

This has gone on for too long. The slitting of throats, the plucking of feathers, the boiling of eggs, the cages, the coops. Entire eons of chicken have been mute witnesses and victims of this orgy of death. No more! No more!

For ages, we have been victims of this culinary genocide. We have been grilled, marinated, fried, deep fried, boiled and subjected to billion other despicable tortures. We suffered silently, contributing to your already burgeoning waistline, adding to your cholesterol and titillating your taste buds. The final icing on this sordid cake was the humor. Do you think the jokes were any less painful?

Why do you care whether the chicken came first or the egg? Every chicken worth its pound knows that you all came from the monkeys.

Why do you care about, why I want to cross the road? Did I ever question you about why the plane crashed into the building or why the bearded guy is bombing every one in sight ?

This was the ultimate pits. We thought that things could only look up from here on. The animal rights, the vegans, obesity, Michael Jackson - all them gave us hope.

But then came the killer blow, the big whammy, the big dog biting the crass ass.

Ok, a few of us had the flu. We sneeze a little, cough a little, wipe the runny nose, take medication and sleep through it.Bingo! Everything would have been hunky-dory. Things could have been improved through love, care and comfort for the sick. But NO! Being the silly humans that you are, you PANIC!

The apocalypse had to be announced. The poor old chicken, which was harmless tasty food till now, turned into GODZILLA. The tipping point being- the mass extermination, mindless killing.

How would you feel if we start doing the same? Imagine killing all humans suffering from constipation.

'Look! There goes a constipated freak, rip him to shreds before he farts.'

Don't worry, what comes around goes around. The great chicken uprising of 2006 AD will be remembered in the annals of history as the start of the FOWL Rule.

Let’s see on whose face the egg lands. This time the French toast is going to be for real. The scramble this time would be for the human survival.

The Coo Cluck Clan urges every self respecting chicken to join this war in defiance of tyranny. You bled in the hands of the humans now bleed for the Coo Cluck Clan.
Bleed for freedom, glory and the right to cross the road with dignity.

Stand guard, take aim, FIRE!!!

Let’s see who the real chicken is? Chicken shit!!

2006-02-12T20:22:00.000-08:00

I had written this piece for the Flash Fiction contest at the Times Kala Ghoda Festival , Mumbai.
The Theme of the contest was Black Horse.

The battle
The atmosphere at the battlefront was electric - a powder keg ready to explode. I felt the tension screaming through my nerves. Hours of non-stop fighting had taken its toll on both armies. I moved a few paces forward and then sidestepped to avoid the enemy lines and then lay in wait. It was a slow, grueling push forward and I was running on pure adrenalin. The enemy was within striking distance and even death would have to wait. I could sense that the battle was reaching its final stretch and the pieces were finally falling into place for our final assault. I was perfectly aware of what had to be done. I had practiced it hundreds of times during the war games with my mates; my mates who were now martyrs in the name of war. I heard my foot soldiers move and take up forward positions on the frontline. My moment of reckoning was just round the corner. The final cog had to be fitted in to set the wheels of victory in motion. Years of pain, suffering and sacrifice had all funneled down to this very moment. If only I could slip around the corner unnoticed. It seemed like eternity and even time stood still with bated breath. My trembling body moved forward, driven by some unknown force, while the brain kept screaming-‘death’. I moved on all fours- two paces forward and then one pace sideways- and lay cowering on the white floor. Blood pounded in my ears and the eyes were shut tight in anticipation of pain – the pain of defeat, damnation and death. A voice suddenly boomed in the background, “Black Knight moves from e3 to c2; ‘Ne3 c2’, Checkmate!! Black Wins”

2006-01-07T23:18:00.000-08:00

sitting alone,

on the empty train

ah! life

2005-12-16T05:41:00.000-08:00

A Room with a view
Despite the limited abilities, the intrepid writer in me keeps wandering off at his own peril. I was ruminating about writing and realized that the most difficult aspect for any writer would be description. The description of the scene, the setting, the mood, the light, the hue, the smell, the feel.

I can imagine this gaunt author stooping over his checklist and wondering aloud - "ok I have a tale tell. I have conceived my grand central theme. My unique underlying plot is all laid out. All my characters are sketched to perfection. I have a beginning, I have an ending, I have all that goes in between. I even have the foreword all ready. But still, I have that feeling; the feeling of having my skirt all bunched up."

It was hard enough for those six blind men trying to feel up the poor old elephant. Now, imagine one blind fool, conjuring up a gigantic wooly mammoth with wings and wearing panties, standing tall and proud, looking down upon other creatures with contempt ( No, no wait...is that "look" - "contempt"? no I guess he is looking down with pity or maybe he just standing there totally blank. God ! how can i get my readers to see what i see.), and then try to paint this picture on the mental canvas of another blind fool. Its a real tough job.

How do I translate the scene laid out in front of me into accurate words?
How do I capture the colors, the shadows, the hues, the smells, the sounds and the feel on paper?
What metaphors would my readers relate to ?
Of what shade is the darkness, that engulfs me ?
Can my readers feel the unearthly dread that I feel ?
How can i make this piercing silence scream out through my words?

How can I make my hand write what my heart feels ??

2005-12-10T23:51:00.000-08:00

A Picture worth a thousand words....

2005-11-24T05:57:00.000-08:00

Enlightenment !!!
The realization has finally dawned. I can see the divine halo flickering to life around my oft-tormented head, like that gaudy neon on top of that cheesy motel ( excuse me, I am trying to write here). I am tempted to run around the roads naked- screaming, "Eureka!!", but irony of this action, as the patient readers might realize in the near future, makes me bite my tongue in haste. But I must admit with all humility, everyone and everything looks microscopic from this pinnacle of knowledge and awareness. I pity all you ignorant souls, blissfully unaware and believing blindly in your parochial concepts of life and existence. Collectively, force feeding each other with delusive concepts of success, joy and happiness. Constructing walls of illusions, ensconced in a web of materialistic deceit and chasing the fleeting concept of "Happily ever after". For the benefit of the privileged few, who are getting impatient and wondering - "whats the point? why am i reading this crap?", I will come to the crux of the point. The crux of the above crap is - there is no "happily ever after" and I refuse to take is lying down. Boss !! somebody should have informed me earlier. I was always progressively misled into believing that success in 7th class, 10th class, 12th class, engineering, SUPW, MBA.... always led to "happily ever after". Why was such a gross truth withheld from me? What happened to free

speech, the information age and the art of effective communication ?

I always had a nagging feeling that Marvin was the ultimate messiah, how I regret not trusting my juvenile instincts. But then I realize the truth, the ultimate truth that none of you faceless nameless ignorants ever realize or comprehend this fact of non-existence. How could any one have informed me if no one ever knew ? silly me !! (a tender slap on the forehead follows).

And at this opportune moment, when the earth stopped spinning, when time stood still, when volcanoes erupted on jupiter, I took upon myself onerous task of educating this world. I took upon myself to teach this world to see the world in a new light,to be able to strip down all the excess clothing and stare at the naked truth in all its glory.

The next time a kid comes home and screams, " Mommy I got the first rank", the voice from the other end must sound something like," Dont get your hopes high kid ! wait till the first day of your job."

The next time a teenager says," Dad! I got selected for the Indian cricket team", the instinctive reply must be - "wait till you break your leg or get too old to play".
There is no point bringing up kids in a sugary sweet chocolate castle of hope. Everyone must make a conscious effort to create a cynic in every other fellow human being. Every man, woman and child must scream out from the bottom of the guts- loud and clear - "there is no happily ever after".
And to this end, I appoint myself the high priest of the Order of the Cynics. I am sure that whomsoever has managed to read till here has been touched. I urge all you believers to join the fold. Let us all unite together and spread this flame. Let us all join forces to enlighten this world. Let the Order of the Cynics be the Order of the World.

2005-10-30T20:43:00.000-08:00

A Breath of Fresh Air................

Was reading this article by Neil Postman called Informing ourselves to death on vasants blogs. A revolutionary perspective on the evolution of technology, the advent of the comps and the "boons" of information technology.

Has written other brilliant articles .. the one other article that stands out is the graduation speech that he always wanted to give. Here he urges students to Athenians, not Visigoths.

2005-10-28T05:58:00.000-07:00

In the quest for existentialism...

It has been a long and eventful journey. I don't exactly remember when, where or how it started, but somewhere along the road I picked up this 'pseud dood' word - "Existentialism". What was it all about - was it some pseudo intellectual gobbledygook discussed by the jobless bourgeois over cups of hot coffee ?, was it some cult concept drawing millions of hapless moths towards its incandescent warmth ?
what was this word ? who were these people - "the existentialists" ? A movie, a book, a person, a thought - there was existentialism existing everywhere....
To be frank, most of my efforts met up with a dead end. I tried asking people and most of them came up with hogwash which they themselves couldn't understand. I tried reading conga's book authored by Satre but could not get past the first few sentences.
Tried searching on the google, most of the stuff went way way way way over my modest 5'10" frame. I bought a Kafka at Strands, but the novel was so laborious that every page was followed by a good 10 hour sleep - it was the ultimate sedative. I, infact felt guilty that I wasnt able to appreciate a great mans work. Along the way i picked up lots and lots of jargon. the existential angst, the despair, subjectivism involved in human live, about how existence preceeds essence in human life.
EXISTENTIALISM WHERE DO U EXIST ??

2005-10-21T05:04:00.000-07:00

The Call ( my attempt at nano-fiction )
It is pitch dark and the landscape - tough and rugged. He moves towards the barbed fence with surety and stealth. He could almost smell freedom. Freedom from a life of pain, misery and persecution. The inexorable call of the promised land.
A sudden metallic shrill pierces the deathly silence. A searing pain wracks his body and then darkness overcomes.....

2005-10-18T06:36:00.000-07:00

My Religion

Hymns of Horror, Divine distress;
Prayers of panic, spiritual stress;
tears of trepidation, holy hell;
rhythms of ruin, venerable vice;

oh! great religion, I bow to thee;
I genuflect at your altar of acerbity FOR -

thoughtless though I am not, toothless I am;
guiltless though I am not, gutless I am;
hopeless though I am not, heartless I am;

A powerless pawn caught in this chequered web,
struggling and lost in this winding maze,
seeking solace in the unknown dread,
beaten, broken, bloodied, helpless... MAN.

2005-10-17T08:07:00.000-07:00

The Writers Bowel

beads of sweat form a oozy stream,
face contorted - frozen in time,
teeth grit, fists clenched
amorous nails plough into the lumpy flesh.

the brainy bowel refuses to yield,
the adamant thought stands its ground,
the obdurate muse needs to be flushed,
but no laxatives for this dogged crap.

to constipate or cogitate,
to excrete or excite,
the Hemorrhoids or hemorrhage,
the yellow or the grey