…..”Karuna”
He thought for a moment if he did the right thing. But there was no time to contemplate on the judiciousness of the choice. It was time to act impromptu. He tried to recall a lot of things. Scenes from clichéd bollywood flicks, sequences from love stories hitherto unknown to many crossed his mind and he knew almost in an instant what this was all about. Since the day he had understood the chemistry between the sexes he had waited to talk to a girl to win her. Prashant had no clue if he was up to the task but he knew one thing for sure. In the solace of the vacant arts room he would script something unnerving between them. He knew there would be moments more mushy and mellow than this but the beauty of this one moment will remain eternal in its nascence.
“Hmm…??” She turned inquiringly.
And as he looked at her from the distance of around five meters, he felt fearless. Calm. Peaceful.
Prashant was neither worried nor awed by her mysticism today. He was thinking trivial things. The most important agenda on his head right now was if she always wore her hair this way??
And he asked it out aloud.
“Why haven’t you tied your hair in the set of plates as you always do? ”
This was out of the blue. This guy is so reserved and he is so silent and yet he notices the way I comb my hair!! This was irksome. This was odd.
“Ahh!! Well I shampoo-ed my hair today morning. I guess that’s why! ”
“Oww…!!”
“Do you notice ??”
It was a soft sound. The one you can tell from normal dialogue. The one that lets you know “I know what you want to say”. This was nice. Prashant felt comfortable.
Prashant felt the cold of the bench on his butt. From where she was standing she could notice his every move. For some seconds there was an eerie silence.
“So…??” She knew he was too shy to start a proper conversation.
He looked up, scratched his head, adjusted his spectacles, cleared his throat and said
“There’s something I have been wanting to tell you. ” he took some time to gather his voice and continued “This might take some time. Why don’t you sit down ?”
He pointed to two vacant benches in the right corner by the window. As he got up to position himself on the benches his arm brushed hers. It was a momentary touch. Nothing sensuous about it but the lack of purpose made it even more delightful.
This really is going in a purposeful direction. He smiled with innocence.
****************************************
Seated comfortably, he could now see her more appropriately. He felt nervous now. She was staring at him with perpetual enquiring eyes. And he was thinking “Yaar!! Ye nili aankhen marwayengi!!” . he took a moment to realize that this was plagiarism and the punch didn’t fit her eyes either.
“So…??”
He gulped the spit in his mouth and began his first ever proposal.
“Would you be offended if……. I sai..d I find you beautiful??? I mean to say that you won’t hate me if I said I find you attractive..right??”
Lame .Lame.Lame. His inner voice shouted. Something inside shifted. There was uneasiness. This is by far the worst way to open up against your loved one.
Silence. Her eyelids dropped. She looked down on the ground. And she kept looking.
Look up. Look up. For christ’s sake say something . Swear, hit , push, kill, move. C’mon do something . He waited desparately.
But she didn’t!
He followed her move and gazed down on the ground. From the corner of his eye he saw her feet shivering. And before he could react he saw two symmetrical drops glistening in the dreary light from the window, plummet down her golden cheeks down onto the floor.
‘I love her. And she is crying.’
Someone somewhere in this universe smiled and uttered “Ahh!! The miracle of Lava Canyon!!!”
********End of episode***********
Friday, August 7, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Episode 4(The First Big Step)
If you are new to the blog and the story and are wondering about episode 2 and 3..
Follow the link..
Episode 3
Episode 2
Happy Reading!!
*******************************
Walking down the aisle outside the school library, he saw her walking in his direction. When you have hots for some girl, the time taken to cross her when she is coming in your direction is highly critical for your eyes. Human mind is so restless and eyes are always up to show its incompetence at concentrating on the straight path ahead. Prashant wanted to avoid her and also grab her attention. He was thinking of a lot of things…
“Ooh!! Look at me.. Look at me plzzz.. see you have awesome eyes.. Hey wait .. was that a glimpse.. is she tying to say hi?? Man she is going to turn.. no no no wait wait wait.. look look
Yeah she looked.. yeah I am sure she did.. yeah it pretty sure was a glimpse...is she watching me from the corner of her eye..???
Hey is she reading my mind.?? Can girls do that??
Oohh no nono no man I am screwed..
Am screwed am screwed screwed screwed!!!!
I have to change my thoughts right now..
Come on you can do it.. think about Sir Projjwal..naah not him no no
Mom I love you.. I have never told you this but you make awesome tea….
Mom that time I lied to you about the broken window am so sorry ..Please forgive me..
No no no don’t let her know you broke the window…
She can read your mind. Think about it. Is she a ghost??
Ooh she is turning now…. ”
And it was a sad and endless chain.
Somedays later he decided to be a man. Not that he was not a man , but that when he was confronted with her face he usually lost his “man”.
It was august. There was heat in the air and humidity. The bit that can wet your hair enough to make it follow up the line of your forhead which makes girls (quoting Prashant) all the more “desirable”. The first week of August had passed in indecision. To tell or not to tell was the story all over the passing month. There were times when he grew sure of his non-chalance in this matter to the level of giving it up for more noble causes. Yet he clung on to Karuna….
Ooh..!! Only if she could see how my heart bleeds for her..!!
Hark!! Mine eyes cry blood for thy countenance!!
(Please bear with his boring Shakespearean adaptation of his heartly disgusts. Love can do this to you!!)
So, where were we??
August. Yes, august and the first week over. But before I tell you this you are supposed to know some more about the weeks that had passed before. He had decided to confide about his tale in some of his close friends which included Amandeep, Amarjeet , Chandan and many more..(Actually the whole class knew of his on going infatuation). So, there was this guy Amandeep whom he had talked to before confronting his lady-love.
(P.S.:: The following conversation took place on a phone)
“Dude, I just can’t bear this…Its hard to resist”
“What??” (Typical carefree Amandeep)
“Well this subject I told you of…… in the morning recess”(F**ker catch the hint…With mom around the phone most of the time I can’t divulge much)
“Oh!! That girl Karuna?? What about her??..Why use euphimisms???”(You enjoy privacy friend..Whereas I am usually hounded by half a dozen suspicious eyes all the time)
“Aaah….!! If only you could understand!! Anyway.. So I am supposing I should confront the professor about my inability to cope with the subject.”
“Hmm Hmm!! Dude I have to tell you something before you do anything. Whatever you go out to her and say her plzz don’t use such shitty metaphors because you suck at them. BIG TIME!!”
“Thnx Aman, you really help. That was very encouraging. ” he said with grinded teeth
“Haa Haa but make sure you cover up your tracks and make the “professor” understand your “impotence” …. Dude am loving this metaphor game…”
“Ahha you are a gud friend .. very gud friend ” (You son-of-b**** , I will see you tomorrow)
“Are you swearing on the phone.. I can hear it up here.. Well, whatever, have to go out to buy some vegetables. Gud Luck with your “enter-prise” ”
Click.
Over and out.
Now there’s Mom to counter.
“Kya hua ? Having some trouble with your subjects??”
“Nahi.. just the regular.. I will man-age Mom…Don’t worry!!”
He left the room in a hurry.
So, that brings us to the present day. He found himself with a dozen classmates locked in a room on the top floor of his school trying to fisnish work on the class magazine. Amandeep was the highest in the ranks and was probably the chief editor. It was he who had somehow squeezed Prashant in the team and Karuna in the “Art departent”. This way he found himself in closer proximity(yeah.. I get the literal redundancy!!) with her. Today, Amandeep was absent. Remember, the vegetable thing in the telephonic conversation. Yeah he fell down from the bicycle and broke his hand while in the market. Now, how do you do that?? Probably his big head landed on his shoulder. That was the only plausible explanantion Prashant could provide his head with.
Whatever, he was gone and with him gone Prashant was overseeing the Art work and he was handed the articles and color pens when the work was done, for the day. When Karuna was coming towards him he felt restrained from kissing her cheeks. Oh what cheeks. He was trying not to lay his gaze on her and was trying to act “man-ly”. But it was difficult. Sort of impossible. She dropped her share of color pens in his hand and said
“Thank you. bbye”
Now a normal human being must have returned her thanks and it would have all been fine with the world. But he had to put his extra effort and make it stupid. He coughed and cleared his throat and only when she had turned not expecting anything, he said in a firm tone.
“Well the pleasure is all mine and I am happy to be your guest..”(What the f*** , how do you fuck up the only chance to start up a normal conversation with the girl of your dreams??)
She eyed him suspiciously and went towards the door probably half surprised and half shocked.
And when she was about to leave he did something he had never done before.
He called out her name aloud.
“Karuna........”
(……….to be continued)
Follow the link..
Episode 3
Episode 2
Happy Reading!!
*******************************
Walking down the aisle outside the school library, he saw her walking in his direction. When you have hots for some girl, the time taken to cross her when she is coming in your direction is highly critical for your eyes. Human mind is so restless and eyes are always up to show its incompetence at concentrating on the straight path ahead. Prashant wanted to avoid her and also grab her attention. He was thinking of a lot of things…
“Ooh!! Look at me.. Look at me plzzz.. see you have awesome eyes.. Hey wait .. was that a glimpse.. is she tying to say hi?? Man she is going to turn.. no no no wait wait wait.. look look
Yeah she looked.. yeah I am sure she did.. yeah it pretty sure was a glimpse...is she watching me from the corner of her eye..???
Hey is she reading my mind.?? Can girls do that??
Oohh no nono no man I am screwed..
Am screwed am screwed screwed screwed!!!!
I have to change my thoughts right now..
Come on you can do it.. think about Sir Projjwal..naah not him no no
Mom I love you.. I have never told you this but you make awesome tea….
Mom that time I lied to you about the broken window am so sorry ..Please forgive me..
No no no don’t let her know you broke the window…
She can read your mind. Think about it. Is she a ghost??
Ooh she is turning now…. ”
And it was a sad and endless chain.
Somedays later he decided to be a man. Not that he was not a man , but that when he was confronted with her face he usually lost his “man”.
It was august. There was heat in the air and humidity. The bit that can wet your hair enough to make it follow up the line of your forhead which makes girls (quoting Prashant) all the more “desirable”. The first week of August had passed in indecision. To tell or not to tell was the story all over the passing month. There were times when he grew sure of his non-chalance in this matter to the level of giving it up for more noble causes. Yet he clung on to Karuna….
Ooh..!! Only if she could see how my heart bleeds for her..!!
Hark!! Mine eyes cry blood for thy countenance!!
(Please bear with his boring Shakespearean adaptation of his heartly disgusts. Love can do this to you!!)
So, where were we??
August. Yes, august and the first week over. But before I tell you this you are supposed to know some more about the weeks that had passed before. He had decided to confide about his tale in some of his close friends which included Amandeep, Amarjeet , Chandan and many more..(Actually the whole class knew of his on going infatuation). So, there was this guy Amandeep whom he had talked to before confronting his lady-love.
(P.S.:: The following conversation took place on a phone)
“Dude, I just can’t bear this…Its hard to resist”
“What??” (Typical carefree Amandeep)
“Well this subject I told you of…… in the morning recess”(F**ker catch the hint…With mom around the phone most of the time I can’t divulge much)
“Oh!! That girl Karuna?? What about her??..Why use euphimisms???”(You enjoy privacy friend..Whereas I am usually hounded by half a dozen suspicious eyes all the time)
“Aaah….!! If only you could understand!! Anyway.. So I am supposing I should confront the professor about my inability to cope with the subject.”
“Hmm Hmm!! Dude I have to tell you something before you do anything. Whatever you go out to her and say her plzz don’t use such shitty metaphors because you suck at them. BIG TIME!!”
“Thnx Aman, you really help. That was very encouraging. ” he said with grinded teeth
“Haa Haa but make sure you cover up your tracks and make the “professor” understand your “impotence” …. Dude am loving this metaphor game…”
“Ahha you are a gud friend .. very gud friend ” (You son-of-b**** , I will see you tomorrow)
“Are you swearing on the phone.. I can hear it up here.. Well, whatever, have to go out to buy some vegetables. Gud Luck with your “enter-prise” ”
Click.
Over and out.
Now there’s Mom to counter.
“Kya hua ? Having some trouble with your subjects??”
“Nahi.. just the regular.. I will man-age Mom…Don’t worry!!”
He left the room in a hurry.
So, that brings us to the present day. He found himself with a dozen classmates locked in a room on the top floor of his school trying to fisnish work on the class magazine. Amandeep was the highest in the ranks and was probably the chief editor. It was he who had somehow squeezed Prashant in the team and Karuna in the “Art departent”. This way he found himself in closer proximity(yeah.. I get the literal redundancy!!) with her. Today, Amandeep was absent. Remember, the vegetable thing in the telephonic conversation. Yeah he fell down from the bicycle and broke his hand while in the market. Now, how do you do that?? Probably his big head landed on his shoulder. That was the only plausible explanantion Prashant could provide his head with.
Whatever, he was gone and with him gone Prashant was overseeing the Art work and he was handed the articles and color pens when the work was done, for the day. When Karuna was coming towards him he felt restrained from kissing her cheeks. Oh what cheeks. He was trying not to lay his gaze on her and was trying to act “man-ly”. But it was difficult. Sort of impossible. She dropped her share of color pens in his hand and said
“Thank you. bbye”
Now a normal human being must have returned her thanks and it would have all been fine with the world. But he had to put his extra effort and make it stupid. He coughed and cleared his throat and only when she had turned not expecting anything, he said in a firm tone.
“Well the pleasure is all mine and I am happy to be your guest..”(What the f*** , how do you fuck up the only chance to start up a normal conversation with the girl of your dreams??)
She eyed him suspiciously and went towards the door probably half surprised and half shocked.
And when she was about to leave he did something he had never done before.
He called out her name aloud.
“Karuna........”
(……….to be continued)
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Their Story (episode 1)
He never knew he would find something this beautiful. It was autumn. Not the “leaves falling everywhere” kind of an autumn , but “just a slight chill in the wind” kind of an autumn. Prashant enjoyed the view from his window. It was the security that he felt in his room behind the books he had to engross his attention into for the forthcoming competitions. He was not lonely. A decent guy with a gist of artistic bent and a notch introvert.
And he saw her somewhere. ‘Where’ is not of importance. He just saw her. You know those things they say about love at first sight. You disbelieve that until you experience some. Karuna was beautiful or so he thought. He never weighed her beauty. He never saw beyond her eyes. They were serene. He always felt they resembled some bollywood actress whose name he could not recall in her vicinity.
********************************
Prashant was getting late for his tuitions. He packed the bag and went out in the lawn running a wild hand and smacking his brother on his forhead. He enjoyed doing this. Not the pain infliction part, but it was the retaliation that he loved the most.
“Whats up jughead?”
Now Prashant’s younger brother was not much of a hit with his academics yet enjoyed the pampering nature of his mother.
“Hey you Blackface, take care of your own studies and stay away from me!”(Ahh!!Spiteful revenge. Got some for the day!)
Prashant cycled fast through the noisy streets of bharatpur to the tuition centre. Pankaj was late as always. He took the seat at the back row before the teacher began spitting some weird content on the beauty of differential equations. See what he hated about maths was not only the equations but also the history behind the under examination equation.
He felt sleepy amidst the constant droning buzz that was filling almost every part of the room.
“And this differential equation was solved under the jurisdiction of Mr.Blah in yeah 1939 when the world war broke out! He was sleeping when he had this dream about the equations arranging themselves in weird set of patterns ………”
“Oh! What the f*** ! Who cares who solved it? And whats so special about this dream. Last night I had a dream about getting laid ! Hope that is symbolic with some f***ing differential equation!”
And he folded his hands on the table and began thinking of Karuna!
“Oh! Karuna……
The love of my life. The fire of my loins….” (Wait a sec! That’s from Lolita!)
Prashant loved dreaming about her. Actually, it was his favorite pastime. See guys, when you are in love or have brought down upon thyself the aforementioned premise you tend to sleep a lot less than you dream. It is one of the rare occasions when you can actually build your own dreams. You see yourself rescuing her from some doomed conspiracy of the universe and find yourself pampering her in some silent corner of the world. She too is returning your favor by rubbing your cheeks and pulling your hair.
“Ohh! I love you so much..!!”
“Hmm.. hmm”
“I wish we could go away to some distant island and live there forever”
Now, you have to understand this. Real love (or in this case alleged love in dreams) is never as clichéd as some bollywood flick.
“Why an island??” she would frown.
“Well….ahh aghh an island is lonely and beautiful and awesome and wonderful ,…..”
See, when you are caught up in a tight situation you tend to use a lot of adjectives….
But she will undo all your effort with one word…
“SO ????”
“Ohh.. Crap…!! This dream is not going the right way.” This is the advantage I was talking about. You can direct your dreams in the way you like.
“Let us start over..”
And once again he would start off with another set of distinct and an equally sucking cliched metaphor for her eyes or lips or….ohh whatever. The point is he would land in the same spot.
Wreckage..!!
Today he was having less drastic dreams about her and he intended to smile in his sleep.
He smiled.
Only to notice a voice echoing through his ears .
“Why are you smiling??... Ohh!! For christ’s sake why are u sleeping??”
Pankaj was amazed at his audacity to sleep in this heat.
“Dude you are sweating like anything!!”
“Ahh its just her love.. Maybe am too full.. You have to know of this dream I was havi….”
And Pankaj cut him short..
“Dude no more of your mellow weird love dreams. I already have enough driving on my tiny ass…”
Prashant smiled. Pankaj did have a tiny ass. Actually he was a tiny guy. He had tiny eyes, tiny fingers, tiny hands and tiny thighs. It was but his accentuated lower lip that was set apart from his whole tiny profile. It stood out like a light-house on a stranded island.
Ahhhh!!! Island!!!!
Prashant smiled intuitively, probably at his own lameness. He was not lame. It was but she who turned him this lame. Meanwhile he got back to the lecture which was sucking sad right from the beginning.
He could not wait to see her again. Probably this time in person!!!
He knew his chances were slim but he was riding his luck. The teacher stopped talking (that was all it was to him!!) soon and they filed and climbed the 17 stairs to reach the surface. Yeah, the room was below the surface but more on that later…..
*********End of episode 1*********
And he saw her somewhere. ‘Where’ is not of importance. He just saw her. You know those things they say about love at first sight. You disbelieve that until you experience some. Karuna was beautiful or so he thought. He never weighed her beauty. He never saw beyond her eyes. They were serene. He always felt they resembled some bollywood actress whose name he could not recall in her vicinity.
********************************
Prashant was getting late for his tuitions. He packed the bag and went out in the lawn running a wild hand and smacking his brother on his forhead. He enjoyed doing this. Not the pain infliction part, but it was the retaliation that he loved the most.
“Whats up jughead?”
Now Prashant’s younger brother was not much of a hit with his academics yet enjoyed the pampering nature of his mother.
“Hey you Blackface, take care of your own studies and stay away from me!”(Ahh!!Spiteful revenge. Got some for the day!)
Prashant cycled fast through the noisy streets of bharatpur to the tuition centre. Pankaj was late as always. He took the seat at the back row before the teacher began spitting some weird content on the beauty of differential equations. See what he hated about maths was not only the equations but also the history behind the under examination equation.
He felt sleepy amidst the constant droning buzz that was filling almost every part of the room.
“And this differential equation was solved under the jurisdiction of Mr.Blah in yeah 1939 when the world war broke out! He was sleeping when he had this dream about the equations arranging themselves in weird set of patterns ………”
“Oh! What the f*** ! Who cares who solved it? And whats so special about this dream. Last night I had a dream about getting laid ! Hope that is symbolic with some f***ing differential equation!”
And he folded his hands on the table and began thinking of Karuna!
“Oh! Karuna……
The love of my life. The fire of my loins….” (Wait a sec! That’s from Lolita!)
Prashant loved dreaming about her. Actually, it was his favorite pastime. See guys, when you are in love or have brought down upon thyself the aforementioned premise you tend to sleep a lot less than you dream. It is one of the rare occasions when you can actually build your own dreams. You see yourself rescuing her from some doomed conspiracy of the universe and find yourself pampering her in some silent corner of the world. She too is returning your favor by rubbing your cheeks and pulling your hair.
“Ohh! I love you so much..!!”
“Hmm.. hmm”
“I wish we could go away to some distant island and live there forever”
Now, you have to understand this. Real love (or in this case alleged love in dreams) is never as clichéd as some bollywood flick.
“Why an island??” she would frown.
“Well….ahh aghh an island is lonely and beautiful and awesome and wonderful ,…..”
See, when you are caught up in a tight situation you tend to use a lot of adjectives….
But she will undo all your effort with one word…
“SO ????”
“Ohh.. Crap…!! This dream is not going the right way.” This is the advantage I was talking about. You can direct your dreams in the way you like.
“Let us start over..”
And once again he would start off with another set of distinct and an equally sucking cliched metaphor for her eyes or lips or….ohh whatever. The point is he would land in the same spot.
Wreckage..!!
Today he was having less drastic dreams about her and he intended to smile in his sleep.
He smiled.
Only to notice a voice echoing through his ears .
“Why are you smiling??... Ohh!! For christ’s sake why are u sleeping??”
Pankaj was amazed at his audacity to sleep in this heat.
“Dude you are sweating like anything!!”
“Ahh its just her love.. Maybe am too full.. You have to know of this dream I was havi….”
And Pankaj cut him short..
“Dude no more of your mellow weird love dreams. I already have enough driving on my tiny ass…”
Prashant smiled. Pankaj did have a tiny ass. Actually he was a tiny guy. He had tiny eyes, tiny fingers, tiny hands and tiny thighs. It was but his accentuated lower lip that was set apart from his whole tiny profile. It stood out like a light-house on a stranded island.
Ahhhh!!! Island!!!!
Prashant smiled intuitively, probably at his own lameness. He was not lame. It was but she who turned him this lame. Meanwhile he got back to the lecture which was sucking sad right from the beginning.
He could not wait to see her again. Probably this time in person!!!
He knew his chances were slim but he was riding his luck. The teacher stopped talking (that was all it was to him!!) soon and they filed and climbed the 17 stairs to reach the surface. Yeah, the room was below the surface but more on that later…..
*********End of episode 1*********
Sunday, May 10, 2009
आज रात का अंतिम प्याला
यह विराम की स्थिति नरम हो चली विगत अग्नि ज्वाला,
आज रात बस इतना ही आखिरी मधु अंतिम प्याला,
अपने लालायित अधरों से चूम उठा काली हाला,
मधुवन के सबसे सुरभित कुसुमों से सज्जित ये मधुशाला ||1||
कर रही आज अभिवादन है जाओ अब सूरज निकल रहा,
था झूम रहा कुछ क्षण पहले वो पीने वाला संभल रहा
है जाग रहा है जगा रहा पीनेवालों को यह कहकर
आ गया काल निर्धारित चलें आओ अंतिम प्याला पीकर ||2||
लाल रक्त से दीप्त नेत्र कुछ के ज्यादा पी लेने से,
और लाल कुछ की आँखें है विरह झेलने, रोने से,
फिर भी प्रदीप्त सब नेत्र लिए एक नयी ज्योति कल के हेतु,
एक नयी सुबह एक नयी दिशा में बढ़ें पाँव फल के हेतु ||3||
सारा सुख सब आनंद ह्रदय को बहुत शांति पहुंचाता है ,
और मेघ सम चढ़ता है तब नेत्रों पे छा जाता है,
और बरस पड़ता है फिर वो नर की कोमल आँखों से ,
ज्यों गिरते पंख परम आह्लादित एक मयूर की पांखों से ||4||
कुछ उसी तरह साड़ी रजनी आमोद मनाने पीने से ,
उस पर दिनकर का अकस्मात ले उषा सामने आने से,
मूर्च्छा त्यागी सबने कैसे पीने वाले सब दंग हुए,
क्या हुआ, हुआ कैसे सपने बच गए मध्य में भंग हुए ??5??
यह अंतिम पात्र गरल का है यों इसे नहीं जाने देना,
मत बीच स्वयं के और मधु के तुम कुछ भी आने देना,
पूरा आनंद उठाना रात का अंतिम पहर है बीत चला,
नर की भारी इच्छाओं का विश्वास भुवन को जीत चला ||6||
लो आ गयी सुबह चले सब मतवाले अपनी धुन में,
कुछ यादें लिए रात की, कुछ सपने लेकर कल के मन में,
हैं अरुण नेत्र सबके किन्तु मुख पर श्रान्ति का नाम नहीं,
अधरों पे सबके गीत यही "जय मिले बिना विश्राम नहीं " ||7||
This was composed during the final days of my high school and tries to compare the moods of a school leaving kid with a man who is about to leave the bar where he has spent the entire night being intoxicated.
आज रात बस इतना ही आखिरी मधु अंतिम प्याला,
अपने लालायित अधरों से चूम उठा काली हाला,
मधुवन के सबसे सुरभित कुसुमों से सज्जित ये मधुशाला ||1||
कर रही आज अभिवादन है जाओ अब सूरज निकल रहा,
था झूम रहा कुछ क्षण पहले वो पीने वाला संभल रहा
है जाग रहा है जगा रहा पीनेवालों को यह कहकर
आ गया काल निर्धारित चलें आओ अंतिम प्याला पीकर ||2||
लाल रक्त से दीप्त नेत्र कुछ के ज्यादा पी लेने से,
और लाल कुछ की आँखें है विरह झेलने, रोने से,
फिर भी प्रदीप्त सब नेत्र लिए एक नयी ज्योति कल के हेतु,
एक नयी सुबह एक नयी दिशा में बढ़ें पाँव फल के हेतु ||3||
सारा सुख सब आनंद ह्रदय को बहुत शांति पहुंचाता है ,
और मेघ सम चढ़ता है तब नेत्रों पे छा जाता है,
और बरस पड़ता है फिर वो नर की कोमल आँखों से ,
ज्यों गिरते पंख परम आह्लादित एक मयूर की पांखों से ||4||
कुछ उसी तरह साड़ी रजनी आमोद मनाने पीने से ,
उस पर दिनकर का अकस्मात ले उषा सामने आने से,
मूर्च्छा त्यागी सबने कैसे पीने वाले सब दंग हुए,
क्या हुआ, हुआ कैसे सपने बच गए मध्य में भंग हुए ??5??
यह अंतिम पात्र गरल का है यों इसे नहीं जाने देना,
मत बीच स्वयं के और मधु के तुम कुछ भी आने देना,
पूरा आनंद उठाना रात का अंतिम पहर है बीत चला,
नर की भारी इच्छाओं का विश्वास भुवन को जीत चला ||6||
लो आ गयी सुबह चले सब मतवाले अपनी धुन में,
कुछ यादें लिए रात की, कुछ सपने लेकर कल के मन में,
हैं अरुण नेत्र सबके किन्तु मुख पर श्रान्ति का नाम नहीं,
अधरों पे सबके गीत यही "जय मिले बिना विश्राम नहीं " ||7||
This was composed during the final days of my high school and tries to compare the moods of a school leaving kid with a man who is about to leave the bar where he has spent the entire night being intoxicated.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Autobiography of an Analog Signal
P.S. : The following was done as a part of my electronics assignment during the fourth semester of my Undergraduate program at DA-IICT. It explains the working of a pipelined ADC(analog to digtal converter) using some non-technical support.
I never wanted to be a digital signal. Even the thought of being a digital signal used to send chills down my spine. It is not that I was born so. For once, not all was only “ones” and “zeroes”. I was born a healthy analog signal in a family where the emotional quotient of an analog signal ran quite all through the entire family tree. During those days no digital signal inhabited the planet. All was prim and proper with the earth. We lived one big family of sine, cosine, square waves and various other of our kind walked the face of the earth with no fear whatsoever. Until one day……
**********************************
It still is a hazy memory. They say humans have various emotions and that they can distinguish the variety of fraudulent and inhuman behaviors. That they can experience pain and pleasure. It is amazing. I have heard about humans a lot. But more on that later….
So, now the planet was happily prospering and it was the day when a new signal was born to Mr Sine x and Mrs Cos x. They quite rightly called it “little tan x”. We were having a little party in the compound and I was amazing everyone with my curves and high frequency. Old Marty and his wife stood by the marquee and were sipping lemon tea from a small drinking glass that every old couple in the neighborhood had managed to lay their hands upon and they all looked like the members of one big band drinking from the brightly colored glasses. Old Marty had undergone an amplification last night. It was because of the constant sleepiness he experienced almost all the time. He looked quite active and showed no resilience in expressing his dislike towards the champing and chafing kids.
Just then dad ran in shouting the arrival of some creepy creatures from outer space. See, now we were kids at that time and were quite shocked at seeing creatures which were twice as big as us and were composed of long lines of two different sizes. They looked like a fresh pack of chocolates just brought out and wrapped in the colored robes spelling curses and firing at us with their big guns. They talked in weird noises and called each other with numbers. We froze at site while some ran in the direction they felt suitable. I stood looking at the violence. I saw a big “24” with a gun approaching me and all I remember is a deep blur…….
That was the first time we were exposed to the infamous “binary signals”. We had heard a lot about them. They were insensitive and lacked emotions and were like machines and all that they “thought” ,”wished” and “wanted” was expressed using two digits “0” and “1” and that they were on a spree to convert every signal to the digital format. Surprising huh? They say even humans have become emotionless these days. I wonder at the fate of the place.
So, on it went for some days. Analog signals from various nooks and corners were brought in big and small numbers. None was petitioned a leave. They were bundled up in cold, dark rooms where they wept their hearts out to a uniformed guard “38” who could not but stare at the foolish sensitivities of ours. And so the days went on till one day there was a lot of noise in the concentration compound.
We were allowed light and we looked for the first time at our perennial fate. They were big white plastered machines of various specifications. They had different numbers inscribed on them in bright red font, the one that you get when there is blood spilled all over a clean surface. Some said “1 bit”, “2 bit” and so on. I felt dizzy. Apart from that, we saw an acronym inscribed on all the machines, just above the red font in bright green. It said “A. D. C.” in a clear and crisp tone.
I don’t know if it was the nonchalance of the guards or a very confounded state of ours that took a toll on me and I fainted. When I gained some consciousness, which I think is attributed to the reeking deluge of some chemicals inside the big white A.D.C. ,I was queued up at the edge of a conveyor belt that carried us along a slope to a square plate with almost conspicuously shining neon signs that said “Sample and Hold”.
Further down the line were various triangular metal machines crunching the already engulfed signals and spitting a transformed one of the same. It seemed devastating and I looked inquisitively at what was about to be my future, not knowing when will I see light again and in what form. And, just when I was speculating the further course of action and contemplating about the past, a sudden jerk set me in motion. Falling almost freely on the slope made me vomit. It went along for some time this way and then finally I was stopped at a junction. The aforementioned “Sample and Hold” was the junction. It held me constant for some time as if calculating my weight or something . but that is how I was held for sometime before being once again sent down to another junction.
I finally reached a forked road. I don’t know if you will believe me or not but I saw an exact replica of mine move along one side and myself move the other side. I saw two almost similar constructions ahead facing each other with their backs turned towards each other. I know my credibility about those moments can be considered doubtful but I can vouch for the same. As soon as I entered the first small structure I saw a brilliant flash of light. There were various resistors arranged in a line with a voltage supply maintained at the head of the top resistor.
They were held vertically in the compartment and I could see that there were long wires emerging from the junction of every two resistors and a small funnel at whose node I was installed and along with the emerging nodes , I was passed into the triangular structures called “op-amps”. Now these were hefty circuit elements, and being passed through those should not be seen as some joke. There were various elementary elements inside the “op-amp” including capacitors and resistors. It was like a big miz-maze where a nine year child will get easily lost. But, I held on. I could observe that the “op-amp” was actually giving out outputs in the form of the fearful 0 and 1 based on the difference between the voltage wire from the resistor node and myself. I could not recognize myself when I came out. I was almost like the tormentors who had inflicted the aforementioned pain on our family. I was only recuperating when we were shoved in another compartment that looked similar to the previous one from the outside. Inside there were current elements with various switches controlling their flow.
My body which now looked like a digital signal, was used to control the switches. I felt like giggling, not knowing the future that lay upon me. I had not initially noticed that just before entering the second compartment, another funnel had filtered a replica of mine to the outside of the entire structure. I couldn’t but feel amused at the prospect of being at various places in one time.
Inside the second structure, I was rebuilt to more or less what I still despise to become. Coming out of the second structure I saw my self. Yes, I am not kidding. The replica that had deserted me at the forked junction, joined me only to proceed into another of those hefty and terrifying op-amps. I looked at how I was and what I had almost become. The op-amp’s inner compartment was no more a surprise. I had undergone the anguish already and it was only what new the op-amp had to offer. This one subtracted me from my original replica and it amplified us.
I was exhausted. I don’t know when I fell asleep. I only remember that the cycle that I had mentioned went on for various times and I woke up only after I felt a very bright source of natural light. I was out of the terrifying A.D.C. I reconciled my senses just to be met by my acquaintances, turned into the same form that we had collectively hated since the dawn of the time, “a freaking Digital signal”. And since then have been this way only to fortell the tale of our woe to the living humanity.
They say even humans faced some guy named Hitler who wanted to refine Europe. He killed all the jews. We are lucky. At least, we lived only to see our woe, which we don’t experience. Above all, we, digital signals don’t feel.
I never wanted to be a digital signal. Even the thought of being a digital signal used to send chills down my spine. It is not that I was born so. For once, not all was only “ones” and “zeroes”. I was born a healthy analog signal in a family where the emotional quotient of an analog signal ran quite all through the entire family tree. During those days no digital signal inhabited the planet. All was prim and proper with the earth. We lived one big family of sine, cosine, square waves and various other of our kind walked the face of the earth with no fear whatsoever. Until one day……
**********************************
It still is a hazy memory. They say humans have various emotions and that they can distinguish the variety of fraudulent and inhuman behaviors. That they can experience pain and pleasure. It is amazing. I have heard about humans a lot. But more on that later….
So, now the planet was happily prospering and it was the day when a new signal was born to Mr Sine x and Mrs Cos x. They quite rightly called it “little tan x”. We were having a little party in the compound and I was amazing everyone with my curves and high frequency. Old Marty and his wife stood by the marquee and were sipping lemon tea from a small drinking glass that every old couple in the neighborhood had managed to lay their hands upon and they all looked like the members of one big band drinking from the brightly colored glasses. Old Marty had undergone an amplification last night. It was because of the constant sleepiness he experienced almost all the time. He looked quite active and showed no resilience in expressing his dislike towards the champing and chafing kids.
Just then dad ran in shouting the arrival of some creepy creatures from outer space. See, now we were kids at that time and were quite shocked at seeing creatures which were twice as big as us and were composed of long lines of two different sizes. They looked like a fresh pack of chocolates just brought out and wrapped in the colored robes spelling curses and firing at us with their big guns. They talked in weird noises and called each other with numbers. We froze at site while some ran in the direction they felt suitable. I stood looking at the violence. I saw a big “24” with a gun approaching me and all I remember is a deep blur…….
That was the first time we were exposed to the infamous “binary signals”. We had heard a lot about them. They were insensitive and lacked emotions and were like machines and all that they “thought” ,”wished” and “wanted” was expressed using two digits “0” and “1” and that they were on a spree to convert every signal to the digital format. Surprising huh? They say even humans have become emotionless these days. I wonder at the fate of the place.
So, on it went for some days. Analog signals from various nooks and corners were brought in big and small numbers. None was petitioned a leave. They were bundled up in cold, dark rooms where they wept their hearts out to a uniformed guard “38” who could not but stare at the foolish sensitivities of ours. And so the days went on till one day there was a lot of noise in the concentration compound.
We were allowed light and we looked for the first time at our perennial fate. They were big white plastered machines of various specifications. They had different numbers inscribed on them in bright red font, the one that you get when there is blood spilled all over a clean surface. Some said “1 bit”, “2 bit” and so on. I felt dizzy. Apart from that, we saw an acronym inscribed on all the machines, just above the red font in bright green. It said “A. D. C.” in a clear and crisp tone.
I don’t know if it was the nonchalance of the guards or a very confounded state of ours that took a toll on me and I fainted. When I gained some consciousness, which I think is attributed to the reeking deluge of some chemicals inside the big white A.D.C. ,I was queued up at the edge of a conveyor belt that carried us along a slope to a square plate with almost conspicuously shining neon signs that said “Sample and Hold”.
Further down the line were various triangular metal machines crunching the already engulfed signals and spitting a transformed one of the same. It seemed devastating and I looked inquisitively at what was about to be my future, not knowing when will I see light again and in what form. And, just when I was speculating the further course of action and contemplating about the past, a sudden jerk set me in motion. Falling almost freely on the slope made me vomit. It went along for some time this way and then finally I was stopped at a junction. The aforementioned “Sample and Hold” was the junction. It held me constant for some time as if calculating my weight or something . but that is how I was held for sometime before being once again sent down to another junction.
I finally reached a forked road. I don’t know if you will believe me or not but I saw an exact replica of mine move along one side and myself move the other side. I saw two almost similar constructions ahead facing each other with their backs turned towards each other. I know my credibility about those moments can be considered doubtful but I can vouch for the same. As soon as I entered the first small structure I saw a brilliant flash of light. There were various resistors arranged in a line with a voltage supply maintained at the head of the top resistor.
They were held vertically in the compartment and I could see that there were long wires emerging from the junction of every two resistors and a small funnel at whose node I was installed and along with the emerging nodes , I was passed into the triangular structures called “op-amps”. Now these were hefty circuit elements, and being passed through those should not be seen as some joke. There were various elementary elements inside the “op-amp” including capacitors and resistors. It was like a big miz-maze where a nine year child will get easily lost. But, I held on. I could observe that the “op-amp” was actually giving out outputs in the form of the fearful 0 and 1 based on the difference between the voltage wire from the resistor node and myself. I could not recognize myself when I came out. I was almost like the tormentors who had inflicted the aforementioned pain on our family. I was only recuperating when we were shoved in another compartment that looked similar to the previous one from the outside. Inside there were current elements with various switches controlling their flow.
My body which now looked like a digital signal, was used to control the switches. I felt like giggling, not knowing the future that lay upon me. I had not initially noticed that just before entering the second compartment, another funnel had filtered a replica of mine to the outside of the entire structure. I couldn’t but feel amused at the prospect of being at various places in one time.
Inside the second structure, I was rebuilt to more or less what I still despise to become. Coming out of the second structure I saw my self. Yes, I am not kidding. The replica that had deserted me at the forked junction, joined me only to proceed into another of those hefty and terrifying op-amps. I looked at how I was and what I had almost become. The op-amp’s inner compartment was no more a surprise. I had undergone the anguish already and it was only what new the op-amp had to offer. This one subtracted me from my original replica and it amplified us.
I was exhausted. I don’t know when I fell asleep. I only remember that the cycle that I had mentioned went on for various times and I woke up only after I felt a very bright source of natural light. I was out of the terrifying A.D.C. I reconciled my senses just to be met by my acquaintances, turned into the same form that we had collectively hated since the dawn of the time, “a freaking Digital signal”. And since then have been this way only to fortell the tale of our woe to the living humanity.
They say even humans faced some guy named Hitler who wanted to refine Europe. He killed all the jews. We are lucky. At least, we lived only to see our woe, which we don’t experience. Above all, we, digital signals don’t feel.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
A Song for lovers......
The rain will go sometime,
The pain may stay,
The sunlight is sublime,
The dark may make way.
I might forget the numbers,
Or the articles someday,
I might as well remember,
The tree beside the bay.
I might forget your smile,
I may most likely forget,
When you slapped my left cheek,
And I sat staring, imbecile!
All this may never come,
We may all stay intact,
I may come back from work,
And I would cook for you, infact!
Either way the swing of time,
Either way the sway of sands,
I will stare at a couple
Of eyes ; and think ……..
…....about this rhyme, EVERYTIME!
The pain may stay,
The sunlight is sublime,
The dark may make way.
I might forget the numbers,
Or the articles someday,
I might as well remember,
The tree beside the bay.
I might forget your smile,
I may most likely forget,
When you slapped my left cheek,
And I sat staring, imbecile!
All this may never come,
We may all stay intact,
I may come back from work,
And I would cook for you, infact!
Either way the swing of time,
Either way the sway of sands,
I will stare at a couple
Of eyes ; and think ……..
…....about this rhyme, EVERYTIME!
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Love Story
....Eric Segal
St .Louis Post Dispatch regards Love Story “For someone who was in love or is in love or hopes to be in love.” Instinctively the accolade sounds real music to ears but until you are an apathetic psychopath you end up landing in either of the aforementioned classes. Ok, no tomfoolery! Let’s jump to business. Segal makes for an excellent bed time narrator with Love Story. Its not that he puts you to sleep instantaneously but that he facilitates the biological process with a flush of smoothness arising from the abyss of his tale.
The plot could not have got simpler and more mundane . The narration threads in Oliver Barrett IV a rich guy pursuing a degree in Harvard and Jenny Cavilleri a middle class working woman . Opposites as they are in most schemes of life their attraction begins without much delusion. Love calls for sacrifice and Oliver ; the man he is answers the call and estranges himself from his father. They marry and go to live together. The entire saga sounds much more of a bollywood movie made in the early nineties. The initial stages of their married life puts them in the thick and thins of life. With not much money to support they live a life barely fulfilling their daily needs. It is only after Oliver gets a job that they move into posh corners of life.
The book seldom gets romantic but when it does it does just enough to strike the right chord. And so you feel when you read “Love means never to say you are sorry!”One never drowns himself in the book. The water is not so deep. It weaves no fairy tales. Just reads and lets you read. Consequently, it becomes improbable to draw a dichotomous view on the book.
It is but with the end drawing close that Segal hits the jackpot. The conclusive pages are magnificently blended . Every word strikes a message. It leaves you craving for more. Yes , the end does the magic. You just feel you are on a high and it all ends. It unsettles you for a moment. The pain is bearable. It’s just that it is unjust!
It’s in this unsettled state that one ends up dreaming the one person he has loved or hopes to be in love with. And in this one instant Love Story cradles itself in the swing of magnificence. Segal sighs with relief. It has done his part. It has made you recall love.
St .Louis Post Dispatch regards Love Story “For someone who was in love or is in love or hopes to be in love.” Instinctively the accolade sounds real music to ears but until you are an apathetic psychopath you end up landing in either of the aforementioned classes. Ok, no tomfoolery! Let’s jump to business. Segal makes for an excellent bed time narrator with Love Story. Its not that he puts you to sleep instantaneously but that he facilitates the biological process with a flush of smoothness arising from the abyss of his tale.
The plot could not have got simpler and more mundane . The narration threads in Oliver Barrett IV a rich guy pursuing a degree in Harvard and Jenny Cavilleri a middle class working woman . Opposites as they are in most schemes of life their attraction begins without much delusion. Love calls for sacrifice and Oliver ; the man he is answers the call and estranges himself from his father. They marry and go to live together. The entire saga sounds much more of a bollywood movie made in the early nineties. The initial stages of their married life puts them in the thick and thins of life. With not much money to support they live a life barely fulfilling their daily needs. It is only after Oliver gets a job that they move into posh corners of life.
The book seldom gets romantic but when it does it does just enough to strike the right chord. And so you feel when you read “Love means never to say you are sorry!”One never drowns himself in the book. The water is not so deep. It weaves no fairy tales. Just reads and lets you read. Consequently, it becomes improbable to draw a dichotomous view on the book.
It is but with the end drawing close that Segal hits the jackpot. The conclusive pages are magnificently blended . Every word strikes a message. It leaves you craving for more. Yes , the end does the magic. You just feel you are on a high and it all ends. It unsettles you for a moment. The pain is bearable. It’s just that it is unjust!
It’s in this unsettled state that one ends up dreaming the one person he has loved or hopes to be in love with. And in this one instant Love Story cradles itself in the swing of magnificence. Segal sighs with relief. It has done his part. It has made you recall love.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Confessions Of A Man In Love
A Faint Note:
Now before I begin any acclamations to mislead my naïve readers and they begin to prepare ground belief of my being involved in love, I would like to clear some air. This is an account of vexations of a friend of mine who caught this flu in early spring. He had his share of good and bad times which he recounted to me on a chilly October afternoon. It still doesn’t mean that I am not in love. Only that my being or not being in love would not make a hell of a difference because this is the story of my friend in love. And since I could not think of some fancy name for him (I still don’t want to dim his chances with other dates!) I took to the account with myself shouldering the desperation.
A Fainter Beginning:
Girlfriends I feel are a weird subject. Not that my assumption would make much of a difference (they actually are a total disaster). They are difficult to ‘talk of ’and ‘talk to’. Not that they make the talking point difficult but that they make it ridiculously damnable. Now, if you didn’t get along with me during the past couple of lines you missed the point in the first place. See they are difficult to ‘talk of’!
I had this one conversation with my girlfriend at the back of the alley about ‘relationships’. Know what? This is their favorite point of conversation to add some seriousness to the bondage which rests on the shoulders of an insolent bachelor and an equally dismissive mentally challenged counterpart.
So where are we heading to?
Did you say ‘rocks’?
And what more; this talk was a disguised attempt to discuss our own difficult, tottering world which we never confess except to ourselves when we have time and space to do so.
So she would begin the discourse. I will call it a discourse because when she is preaching you know by an eerie premonition that this is not a couple of minutes’ business and the slightest awkwardness in your face pattern may invoke a much awaited row.
So you have this one task at hand. You have to be patient and put on an expression of an involved and interested listener (for her of course) and at the same time keep thinking about every other pretty girl on this planet (for god’s sake you have your own self-respect to protect, don’t you?)
She would start with a friend of mine who lives just next door and is hooked up with a girl (of course) and they are having a difficult time together(of course!)
“Why do boys have to do all this?” she would splutter looking through your face and all that you could manage is to mutter a faint ‘yeah, why?’ while you are thinking about Julia Roberts in that skimpy skirt.
“Isn’t it harsh on your part to harass us girls in your own particular way by not talking to us?”
“Well yeah why?”(Sorry, that was for the last question)
“Well yes too bad!” (but don’t you think that it should be the other way round. why do you have to harass us boys by talking so much)
And she would go on speaking all bullshit that you could hear from any female rights supporter who have in their repertoire several of such dismissive comments and you would still keep saying some ‘yeah’ and ‘why’ with some faint movements of your eyes and hands. Apart that nothing moves. Neither your ideals nor your soul. And then she would hit upon the million dollar question with a special twinkle in her eyes as if she always waited for this one question to ask!
“Tell me; you won’t do this to me, no , ever?”
and you recover.
“Ah! No! Why darling, look we have been talking since the past couple of hours”
“Past 1 hour and 55 minutes, honey.”
“yeah! Correct; Look I just lost track time with you”( 5 minutes—they always make you pay.)
“You are so sweet honey; Love you soooo much.”
“Well… I love you too ..THEN!”
Hugs! Cheers! Battle won!
And all it took was a couple of yeahs and a faint “I love You too”.
And who said love is like walking on a sword. You just need to have your trekking shoes on and be accurate with your timing.
That was one thing. Girlfriends have another exceptional trait. They are consummate timers. They always know when you are watching your favorite movie/series. It is this one opportunity that they do not miss to call upon you. The phone rings as it always does. Only this time the caller takes you off your guard. The call of love is more challenging to take than the call of nature. You know you can’t ignore the call. And you walk out with the phone in your hand cursing practically no one and theoretically everyone.
Calm! Calm! Calm! It is just a phone call god damn it!
“Hello”
“Hello love! What you doing?”
“Ahh! Just waiting for your call ”(Man it hurts to lie!)
“Reallllyyyyyy!!” (whats with women, why do they long so much and prolong words soooooo much)
“yah sort of Really! Why did you call?”(big mistake! Lesson number 1: don’t ever ask your girlfriend this. You lost this right ages ago. Presumably after the first kiss. Presently you only serve and its better if you serve well. I mean you can question anyone’s motive but girlfriends ouch it pinches man! Just wait and see what happens or better try and see!)
“Why ? can’t I call you if I just wish to hear your voice. You are so heartless and non responsive and insensitive too!”(You get used to such adjectives. These are daily stuff)
“No darling, you can call anytime you wish. It is just that I was not expecting your call.”
“But you said you were waiting for my call.” (Damn! I suck at lies and more at hiding them)
“No …. I mean yeah .. well just that I was waiting…. and ..not expect..ing” (shit! Contradiction, will she fall for it! Maybe no , and when caught up in mess use the final weapon..) “ I… love …..you darling! ”(now take a deep breath .. ahhhhhhhh )
“Even I do but you become just so heartless at times that I wish to slap you”(Now ! in the name of heaven’s name , what was that? Cut it man, there are always advantages of having a dumb girlfriend.)
“ Yeah its just the pressure of the studies. I lose my self at times and am depressed.” (you have to blame it man on something you don’t do.)”So how is life?”
Girlfriends always wait for this question.
“ Nothing special. Know what we had an extended session on human anatomy and this Diya was all geared up with her boy friend at that back seat and they were presumably making dumb comments about the class teacher’s khaki shirt and I was not able to concentrate on the class about human respiratory system and I could not understand one bit and then had to break loose after the class on the couple who were again making lewd moves near the cafeteria’s big banyan tree. Hey! You know about the banyan tree. It is 39 years old ! can you imagine ?? so what was I telling you..??”
(wake up man!)
“Yeah something about Diya. Isn’t she the one who topped your class last year?” (another wrong question. Don’t discuss OTHER girls.)
“ How do you know ? you know about them always. So tell me how much I got in my bioinformatics paper during the second terminal?” (Sorry mam )
“I don’t know, probably.”
“38 ! ” she will ejaculate (not literally!)”How can you forget it , 3+8 is 11 and 1+1 is 2 and 11/2 is the date you kissed me for the first time!” (Gosh! Numbers . mathematics was never my area of expertise.)
“Yeah! Maybe, just slipped from my mind.”
“Yeah, such an important date. How can you forget it! You suck man and you suck big time.”
Beep . disconnected.
“Hey!!But what in the world happened to Diya behind the banyan tree?” and you can just keep guessing.
And the next impulsive action is that you jump into the room to see if Keanu Reeves got Sandra Bullock. By the way, we were watching The Lakehouse before all this started.
A Footnote: (please don’t trample upon it)
Now you can have an opinion but certain conditions exist. If you are a girl you can’t have an opinion even if you wish to because unfortunately you are a girl. You call me a male chauvinist pig but I don’t give a s**t . Now if you are a male and you agree with me that’s pretty presumptuous of me. But if you don’t , then probably you are not in love. And if you are in love and still disagree then you haven’t seen many winters in love. And if you are in a relationship for a long period and still don’t feel assertiveness for what my friend ( see I am back to my original self) felt in his ;then check your premises, you are probably not in love.
Now before I begin any acclamations to mislead my naïve readers and they begin to prepare ground belief of my being involved in love, I would like to clear some air. This is an account of vexations of a friend of mine who caught this flu in early spring. He had his share of good and bad times which he recounted to me on a chilly October afternoon. It still doesn’t mean that I am not in love. Only that my being or not being in love would not make a hell of a difference because this is the story of my friend in love. And since I could not think of some fancy name for him (I still don’t want to dim his chances with other dates!) I took to the account with myself shouldering the desperation.
A Fainter Beginning:
Girlfriends I feel are a weird subject. Not that my assumption would make much of a difference (they actually are a total disaster). They are difficult to ‘talk of ’and ‘talk to’. Not that they make the talking point difficult but that they make it ridiculously damnable. Now, if you didn’t get along with me during the past couple of lines you missed the point in the first place. See they are difficult to ‘talk of’!
I had this one conversation with my girlfriend at the back of the alley about ‘relationships’. Know what? This is their favorite point of conversation to add some seriousness to the bondage which rests on the shoulders of an insolent bachelor and an equally dismissive mentally challenged counterpart.
So where are we heading to?
Did you say ‘rocks’?
And what more; this talk was a disguised attempt to discuss our own difficult, tottering world which we never confess except to ourselves when we have time and space to do so.
So she would begin the discourse. I will call it a discourse because when she is preaching you know by an eerie premonition that this is not a couple of minutes’ business and the slightest awkwardness in your face pattern may invoke a much awaited row.
So you have this one task at hand. You have to be patient and put on an expression of an involved and interested listener (for her of course) and at the same time keep thinking about every other pretty girl on this planet (for god’s sake you have your own self-respect to protect, don’t you?)
She would start with a friend of mine who lives just next door and is hooked up with a girl (of course) and they are having a difficult time together(of course!)
“Why do boys have to do all this?” she would splutter looking through your face and all that you could manage is to mutter a faint ‘yeah, why?’ while you are thinking about Julia Roberts in that skimpy skirt.
“Isn’t it harsh on your part to harass us girls in your own particular way by not talking to us?”
“Well yeah why?”(Sorry, that was for the last question)
“Well yes too bad!” (but don’t you think that it should be the other way round. why do you have to harass us boys by talking so much)
And she would go on speaking all bullshit that you could hear from any female rights supporter who have in their repertoire several of such dismissive comments and you would still keep saying some ‘yeah’ and ‘why’ with some faint movements of your eyes and hands. Apart that nothing moves. Neither your ideals nor your soul. And then she would hit upon the million dollar question with a special twinkle in her eyes as if she always waited for this one question to ask!
“Tell me; you won’t do this to me, no , ever?”
and you recover.
“Ah! No! Why darling, look we have been talking since the past couple of hours”
“Past 1 hour and 55 minutes, honey.”
“yeah! Correct; Look I just lost track time with you”( 5 minutes—they always make you pay.)
“You are so sweet honey; Love you soooo much.”
“Well… I love you too ..THEN!”
Hugs! Cheers! Battle won!
And all it took was a couple of yeahs and a faint “I love You too”.
And who said love is like walking on a sword. You just need to have your trekking shoes on and be accurate with your timing.
That was one thing. Girlfriends have another exceptional trait. They are consummate timers. They always know when you are watching your favorite movie/series. It is this one opportunity that they do not miss to call upon you. The phone rings as it always does. Only this time the caller takes you off your guard. The call of love is more challenging to take than the call of nature. You know you can’t ignore the call. And you walk out with the phone in your hand cursing practically no one and theoretically everyone.
Calm! Calm! Calm! It is just a phone call god damn it!
“Hello”
“Hello love! What you doing?”
“Ahh! Just waiting for your call ”(Man it hurts to lie!)
“Reallllyyyyyy!!” (whats with women, why do they long so much and prolong words soooooo much)
“yah sort of Really! Why did you call?”(big mistake! Lesson number 1: don’t ever ask your girlfriend this. You lost this right ages ago. Presumably after the first kiss. Presently you only serve and its better if you serve well. I mean you can question anyone’s motive but girlfriends ouch it pinches man! Just wait and see what happens or better try and see!)
“Why ? can’t I call you if I just wish to hear your voice. You are so heartless and non responsive and insensitive too!”(You get used to such adjectives. These are daily stuff)
“No darling, you can call anytime you wish. It is just that I was not expecting your call.”
“But you said you were waiting for my call.” (Damn! I suck at lies and more at hiding them)
“No …. I mean yeah .. well just that I was waiting…. and ..not expect..ing” (shit! Contradiction, will she fall for it! Maybe no , and when caught up in mess use the final weapon..) “ I… love …..you darling! ”(now take a deep breath .. ahhhhhhhh )
“Even I do but you become just so heartless at times that I wish to slap you”(Now ! in the name of heaven’s name , what was that? Cut it man, there are always advantages of having a dumb girlfriend.)
“ Yeah its just the pressure of the studies. I lose my self at times and am depressed.” (you have to blame it man on something you don’t do.)”So how is life?”
Girlfriends always wait for this question.
“ Nothing special. Know what we had an extended session on human anatomy and this Diya was all geared up with her boy friend at that back seat and they were presumably making dumb comments about the class teacher’s khaki shirt and I was not able to concentrate on the class about human respiratory system and I could not understand one bit and then had to break loose after the class on the couple who were again making lewd moves near the cafeteria’s big banyan tree. Hey! You know about the banyan tree. It is 39 years old ! can you imagine ?? so what was I telling you..??”
(wake up man!)
“Yeah something about Diya. Isn’t she the one who topped your class last year?” (another wrong question. Don’t discuss OTHER girls.)
“ How do you know ? you know about them always. So tell me how much I got in my bioinformatics paper during the second terminal?” (Sorry mam )
“I don’t know, probably.”
“38 ! ” she will ejaculate (not literally!)”How can you forget it , 3+8 is 11 and 1+1 is 2 and 11/2 is the date you kissed me for the first time!” (Gosh! Numbers . mathematics was never my area of expertise.)
“Yeah! Maybe, just slipped from my mind.”
“Yeah, such an important date. How can you forget it! You suck man and you suck big time.”
Beep . disconnected.
“Hey!!But what in the world happened to Diya behind the banyan tree?” and you can just keep guessing.
And the next impulsive action is that you jump into the room to see if Keanu Reeves got Sandra Bullock. By the way, we were watching The Lakehouse before all this started.
A Footnote: (please don’t trample upon it)
Now you can have an opinion but certain conditions exist. If you are a girl you can’t have an opinion even if you wish to because unfortunately you are a girl. You call me a male chauvinist pig but I don’t give a s**t . Now if you are a male and you agree with me that’s pretty presumptuous of me. But if you don’t , then probably you are not in love. And if you are in love and still disagree then you haven’t seen many winters in love. And if you are in a relationship for a long period and still don’t feel assertiveness for what my friend ( see I am back to my original self) felt in his ;then check your premises, you are probably not in love.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
What I Believe : Bertrand Russell
-a layman’s take
The name of Bertrand Russell stands mighty a colossus in the domains of rational writing. He was an adept mathematician, philosopher and a free thinker and most importantly the supremacy of the church had not taken hold of him. His writings thus had the grit and wit to express radical and the then assumed unrealistic and unholy ideas with utmost clarity and unchallenged reasons. For reasons as such Russell was a subject of wrath and criticism of conventional thinkers.
With this in the hindsight and my mind ready to comprehend the labyrinths of Russell’s thinking I began reading the book “What I Believe”. The initial challenge came very early. Before late I began to realize myself in a state of contradiction more than often and I then did what I should have done before the beginning of the book. I cleared my insight of all other thoughts. Left with no other cause of worry I began my traversal on a new note and to much surprise found the thoughts a lot easier to comprehend.
Russell divides the book in five different subsections covering the aspects of morals, good lives, religion, science etc. Russell talks about the concept of life and death and conveys his beliefs on the death of body and mind. He disbelieves in the concept of immortality yet remains somewhat unopposed to the concept of the death of the mind. He ponders over the continual of the survival of the brain on scientific grounds or moreover expects such a breakthrough in the near future. His views on immortality, although are a lot more indicative of disapproval. Russell remains terse enough to conclude that it is the fear of death which inclines men towards immortality. One who does not fear death he feels is a lot less probable to fall prey to this irrational idea.
Russell remains opposed to religion and condemns the existence of either “God” or “immortality”. He calls the aforementioned couple to be the central dogmas of Christianity. He does not refrain himself from stating what feels right and calls “fear” the backbone of all religious dogmas. He accuses religions of circulating the wrong notion of fear by asking people to fear few things. Russell on a personal note refers “all fear is bad”
The notion about nature is that it is to be worshipped. Russell tries to break this misconception and calls man to be the king and feels that the kingship is hurt badly by stooping so low for an inanimate a thing as nature. He rather feels nature to be neither good nor bad and asks men not to pay reverends to it. He says hat the fear of nature gives birth to religion.
Its more than once that the reader finds himself amazed at the unopposed wit of the master to make people agree and the reasons that he uses sound just utterly sound for approval. Russell wins over the reader by a clear understanding of the matter and leaves the reader on a note of “Was that this simple?” with mixed feelings of exclamation and assertiveness.
The most important attribute of Russell’s writings is his language and ability to make people deduce in his lines. I feel it was an excellent read and the thoughts that he tries to convey so amply project themselves through the pages. Yet at places I think I lost track because of the unduly exposure of mine to writings of philosophy and that too of genres of such high standards. It still provides an interesting read as it gets unconventional right from the word “go”.
The name of Bertrand Russell stands mighty a colossus in the domains of rational writing. He was an adept mathematician, philosopher and a free thinker and most importantly the supremacy of the church had not taken hold of him. His writings thus had the grit and wit to express radical and the then assumed unrealistic and unholy ideas with utmost clarity and unchallenged reasons. For reasons as such Russell was a subject of wrath and criticism of conventional thinkers.
With this in the hindsight and my mind ready to comprehend the labyrinths of Russell’s thinking I began reading the book “What I Believe”. The initial challenge came very early. Before late I began to realize myself in a state of contradiction more than often and I then did what I should have done before the beginning of the book. I cleared my insight of all other thoughts. Left with no other cause of worry I began my traversal on a new note and to much surprise found the thoughts a lot easier to comprehend.
Russell divides the book in five different subsections covering the aspects of morals, good lives, religion, science etc. Russell talks about the concept of life and death and conveys his beliefs on the death of body and mind. He disbelieves in the concept of immortality yet remains somewhat unopposed to the concept of the death of the mind. He ponders over the continual of the survival of the brain on scientific grounds or moreover expects such a breakthrough in the near future. His views on immortality, although are a lot more indicative of disapproval. Russell remains terse enough to conclude that it is the fear of death which inclines men towards immortality. One who does not fear death he feels is a lot less probable to fall prey to this irrational idea.
Russell remains opposed to religion and condemns the existence of either “God” or “immortality”. He calls the aforementioned couple to be the central dogmas of Christianity. He does not refrain himself from stating what feels right and calls “fear” the backbone of all religious dogmas. He accuses religions of circulating the wrong notion of fear by asking people to fear few things. Russell on a personal note refers “all fear is bad”
The notion about nature is that it is to be worshipped. Russell tries to break this misconception and calls man to be the king and feels that the kingship is hurt badly by stooping so low for an inanimate a thing as nature. He rather feels nature to be neither good nor bad and asks men not to pay reverends to it. He says hat the fear of nature gives birth to religion.
Its more than once that the reader finds himself amazed at the unopposed wit of the master to make people agree and the reasons that he uses sound just utterly sound for approval. Russell wins over the reader by a clear understanding of the matter and leaves the reader on a note of “Was that this simple?” with mixed feelings of exclamation and assertiveness.
The most important attribute of Russell’s writings is his language and ability to make people deduce in his lines. I feel it was an excellent read and the thoughts that he tries to convey so amply project themselves through the pages. Yet at places I think I lost track because of the unduly exposure of mine to writings of philosophy and that too of genres of such high standards. It still provides an interesting read as it gets unconventional right from the word “go”.
On Randomness
What if men weren’t reasonable? What if they were? Weird why man thinks and ponders on questions? Why do we think even? Had I been an ardent supporter of Ayn Rand my reply could have been WHO IS JOHN GALT? For this curse has been following man in his darkest dreams to annotate his wildest of queries. It is quite preposterous a reply yet it’s a reply and a reply is all what we had been asking for.
An inquisitive reader could well raise a point here amidst all the wild talk I am hinting at.
Why am I doing all this? Now that’s well questioned. Why in the world am I doing all this?
So it by all the wit in the world becomes my responsibility to make my readers aware of the fact that I don’t bear any responsibility to any upsurge of emotional adrenaline that he feels during his traversal through this piece of literature.
Let me warn readers who expect materials from this wild talk. Its just the penning down of ideas of a not so authoritative a writer and is all but what a lay man like me could have thought on a calm and not so chilly October night. This might also leave disappointed, readers who in their quest to answers have by mistake taken into this article. So hereby I leave all my loving and not so loving readers at their own mercy to further delve into my mind.
I have often thought of it. “A man is born free but everywhere he is in chains.” Yet oftener has the thoughts of the genre crossed me: But why does a man not break all of those chains?, for freedom is all what we deem to ask even before a glass of water. How foolish of us? Or how clever? But what will man break and why will he break apart is the question . Subtle though, yet its the same chain that binds us to others which binds others to us. That prevents us of any evasive action. Or does it? For the chains are often broken and joined and rejoined. That I feel defines society. We do make compromises yet it asks for more than a pound of gut to accept it. I know I am talking all rubbish yet talking am I and that’s all what it takes to keep relationships rocking and so undauntingly can bring a relationship on rocks. If only words weren’t swords or the ears were steel either.
I know the small lot that would have remained with me by now would be pondering over my intentions again for it is always what we ask What did he get by doing all this? Our ides are bound to this small tottering materialistic world but who is materialistic is something that might have begun to trouble naïve readers and might keep alluding them to domains vastly far from this place or all other places. I for the benefit of readers who by now are getting perplexed by the stupidity of the talk will not delve into the issue of materialism and above all I don’t consider myself adept enough to pick this theme and do ample justice to its creator.
Yet something that vexes me more than anything tonight is why do we cry and why do laugh? Now that is foolish to ask and yet what is happiness and sadness is something I still can’t define. I can understand the restlessness of the trickle remaining . I am delving more than bearable into subjects discussed frequenter and better by authors of firmer and maturer( I pause to think if maturer is a word even but the intention is portrayed) head. So there is no point delving further as the wilderness is catching hold of me and am getting more and more raw in my talk. So destiny suggests we should stop and stop we have to.
Another unhealthy confession. I daresay the word randomness never ever appeared in the entire piece of writing. I delved cogently without coming to a decision as to whether change the title, yet something holds me back and wildly it’s the same which propels me to stop. So worthy byes to my lovely readers and unworthy thanks to my soul to still be gutsy enough to say it to blank air. Peace ho! But what is peace and do we want it even?
An inquisitive reader could well raise a point here amidst all the wild talk I am hinting at.
Why am I doing all this? Now that’s well questioned. Why in the world am I doing all this?
So it by all the wit in the world becomes my responsibility to make my readers aware of the fact that I don’t bear any responsibility to any upsurge of emotional adrenaline that he feels during his traversal through this piece of literature.
Let me warn readers who expect materials from this wild talk. Its just the penning down of ideas of a not so authoritative a writer and is all but what a lay man like me could have thought on a calm and not so chilly October night. This might also leave disappointed, readers who in their quest to answers have by mistake taken into this article. So hereby I leave all my loving and not so loving readers at their own mercy to further delve into my mind.
I have often thought of it. “A man is born free but everywhere he is in chains.” Yet oftener has the thoughts of the genre crossed me: But why does a man not break all of those chains?, for freedom is all what we deem to ask even before a glass of water. How foolish of us? Or how clever? But what will man break and why will he break apart is the question . Subtle though, yet its the same chain that binds us to others which binds others to us. That prevents us of any evasive action. Or does it? For the chains are often broken and joined and rejoined. That I feel defines society. We do make compromises yet it asks for more than a pound of gut to accept it. I know I am talking all rubbish yet talking am I and that’s all what it takes to keep relationships rocking and so undauntingly can bring a relationship on rocks. If only words weren’t swords or the ears were steel either.
I know the small lot that would have remained with me by now would be pondering over my intentions again for it is always what we ask What did he get by doing all this? Our ides are bound to this small tottering materialistic world but who is materialistic is something that might have begun to trouble naïve readers and might keep alluding them to domains vastly far from this place or all other places. I for the benefit of readers who by now are getting perplexed by the stupidity of the talk will not delve into the issue of materialism and above all I don’t consider myself adept enough to pick this theme and do ample justice to its creator.
Yet something that vexes me more than anything tonight is why do we cry and why do laugh? Now that is foolish to ask and yet what is happiness and sadness is something I still can’t define. I can understand the restlessness of the trickle remaining . I am delving more than bearable into subjects discussed frequenter and better by authors of firmer and maturer( I pause to think if maturer is a word even but the intention is portrayed) head. So there is no point delving further as the wilderness is catching hold of me and am getting more and more raw in my talk. So destiny suggests we should stop and stop we have to.
Another unhealthy confession. I daresay the word randomness never ever appeared in the entire piece of writing. I delved cogently without coming to a decision as to whether change the title, yet something holds me back and wildly it’s the same which propels me to stop. So worthy byes to my lovely readers and unworthy thanks to my soul to still be gutsy enough to say it to blank air. Peace ho! But what is peace and do we want it even?
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