like a magician's left hand
life is but a distraction,
light in it's many vibrant hues
can blind and mystify, it is
but a distraction for the dark
that lies within.
slits up a dancer's dress
expose the skin, for there is flesh to cover,
a painted smile on a clown's face,
hides a million cries.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Thursday, August 02, 2007
So High im on Mars
Take a bottle, gulp it down,
and pass it around.
Put your feet up and your head down,
and spin it around.
Whoa
When you see the ground under your feet
sprouting stars, your feet walk on clouds
and take you too damn far.
Then you know you are on Mars
for your friends turn green,
and you don't know what anything means.
Take a gun and cock it,
put it to your head and blow it,
your head blows open,
but there is nothing in it
cos your on Mars and your head's rolling with the stars.
Your heart is now your head
you see with it and it shows you the way,
for you are on Mars and you are there to stay.
*inspired by Where is my mind by the Pixies
Friday, June 15, 2007
Who's the Boss ?
You know why I love being a television journalist in this country ?
cos we are on the verge of having our first woman-president, and all we can think of is Rajnikanth.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
under construction
PRELUDE
CHAPTER 1:
This is a fact.
It is also a secret, a secret that my kind has guarded for long.
But I will tell you, for I am a traitor to my kind.
All men love women.
They have a deep fascination for them, they fear them and they love them.
Men of all ages love women for their shape and size. Some even love them for their age.
No wonder then that all stories are essentially about love, for in fact, these are dedications to a woman.
Love is man's greatest hubris, his greatest character flaw.
Love makes man a tragic hero.
Nothing can destroy a man like a woman who loves him above all else, a woman who is unselfish in her affection is the most fearsome villain.
Beware of her.
....................................................................................
CHAPTER 2:
This is another fact, another secret.
It is not as guarded as the one I just told you, but it is a secret nevertheless.
Not many of my kind accept or own upto it.
All men love violence.
They have a deep fascination for shedding blood.
Men have a deep fear of pain and this fear propels them towards violence, for there is no greater joy than to instill the fear of pain in your fellow human being's heart.
And maybe thats the reason why men in general fear true love, for it is painful.
True love is like tooth decay.
It almost always infects you right down to the core, deep down into your roots.
And to rid yourself of it, is an exercise that brings with it great pain.
And I have already told you what men feel about that.
.....................................................................................
CHAPTER 3:
I am old school, an ordinary person with an ordinary life.
CHAPTER 1:
This is a fact.
It is also a secret, a secret that my kind has guarded for long.
But I will tell you, for I am a traitor to my kind.
All men love women.
They have a deep fascination for them, they fear them and they love them.
Men of all ages love women for their shape and size. Some even love them for their age.
No wonder then that all stories are essentially about love, for in fact, these are dedications to a woman.
Love is man's greatest hubris, his greatest character flaw.
Love makes man a tragic hero.
Nothing can destroy a man like a woman who loves him above all else, a woman who is unselfish in her affection is the most fearsome villain.
Beware of her.
....................................................................................
CHAPTER 2:
This is another fact, another secret.
It is not as guarded as the one I just told you, but it is a secret nevertheless.
Not many of my kind accept or own upto it.
All men love violence.
They have a deep fascination for shedding blood.
Men have a deep fear of pain and this fear propels them towards violence, for there is no greater joy than to instill the fear of pain in your fellow human being's heart.
And maybe thats the reason why men in general fear true love, for it is painful.
True love is like tooth decay.
It almost always infects you right down to the core, deep down into your roots.
And to rid yourself of it, is an exercise that brings with it great pain.
And I have already told you what men feel about that.
.....................................................................................
CHAPTER 3:
I am old school, an ordinary person with an ordinary life.
Nothing about me is striking, not my appearance, not my mannerisms, nothing. I am so ordinary that I am sometimes invisible, camouflaged in the ordinariness of life, and I use this cloak of invisibility to view everything around me like a spectator.
There is one exception though, and that is my mind which enables me to be anyone, be anything. The unfortunate bit however, is that I have never really used or applied my mind, it was never stimulated or inspired enough to be applied in its totality.
I am also suicidal. I contemplate committing suicide at least once each day, and it's not as if i'm unhappy with life or anything, it's just that i'm bored. I see no real change in the way i exist and live my life in the near future and that gets to me sometimes.
It is only a matter of time till i come across an easy, relatively pain-less way of doing it, and will I be able to resist the temptation then ?
.....................................................................................
CHAPTER 4:
My story is really just about one woman. And what makes it unique is that it is so common. It could be your story, or the story of all of mankind.
After all in this age of individuality what could be more unique than to be common?
.....................................................................................
CHAPTER 4:
My story is really just about one woman. And what makes it unique is that it is so common. It could be your story, or the story of all of mankind.
After all in this age of individuality what could be more unique than to be common?
Pride is supposed to be the greatest sin, but i dont agree.
I think that lust was what led to the downfall of man. After all Adam wasn't proud was he, of eating the apple, but he was lustful when he and Eve committed the original sin. A woman who knows how to fuck can be an indomitable villain.
Such a woman can make you fall in love with her every day, she could make you say sorry even when you weren't, she could make you buy gifts for her and take her around the world.
Show her the universe, gift her the stars, the moon and the galaxy, such a woman is unique and is no less dangerous and attractive than a cursed treasure. Possesing her will make you feel good, feel lucky even, but it also means that you are damned. Nothing can save your soul, you are doomed to spend eternity in hell, for this woman will make you sin, she will make you sin like you were born to sin, which is the truth anyway.
.....................................................................................
CHAPTER 5:
Writers are a tragic breed.
They belong to that group of men who believe in love.
They are suckers for romance.
They truly believe in the power of love as an all conquering force. And that is why some writers marry more than once, for writers fall in love easy.
Why else would they keep repeating their own mistakes?
After calling it quits once, twice, would you not expect them to learn and keep away from the institution of marriage?
But they dont, and that is because they can't.
They tend to fall prey to the attractions which tug at their hearts, and here I should clarify, the writers that i am talking about are not just the ones with books against their names.
For a writer is a writer in his spirit, in his heart, in his soul.
It is his element, he does not need the certificate of a publisher.
He is a writer, because he is.
Simple.
But why am I telling you this?
...................................................................................
Oscar Wilde said 'each man kills the thing which he loves'
....................................................................................
PART 1 - The beginning
CHAPTER 1:
The sun beat down so hot that I thought the oceans would boil and the land will catch fire.
The sunlight was so bright that it blinded the birds, and so they took shelter in the trees.
"This heat will make my brain boil in its own fat, it's turning my skull into an oven", I thought with forced humour and sarcasm.
I walked down the lonely burning stretch of road, dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a half sleeved white shirt, humming some tune to myself, lost in the music which my ipod spat into my ears.
I regretted not picking up my cap when I left home earlier in the day.
Ever wake up feeling like you wanted to punch everybody and anybody you came across?
That was how I felt these days, all day... every day.
Except when I slept, for that was when she came, and she cured me of all violence, all pain.
I ran my fingers through the thick dark curls on my hand, they were moist with sweat... like damp grass wet with early morning dew.
I wiped my brow and walked on.
..................................................................................
CHAPTER 2:
Our love story was what many american writers liked to call 'the classic high school romance', but to us there was nothing typical about it.
We met in college, but it was hardly love at first sight.
She was attractive, but not really gorgeous, with a fair complexion, shoulder lenght wavy black hair and light brown hazel eyes, she was pretty enough to make heads turn.
And so my head had turned, and our eyes met, but that sounds too romantic, it really wasn't like that at all.
At least not in the beginning.
We started as friends, pure and simple, and now thinking back I realise that it was the best way to start. We started off like two teenagers.We went for movies, we bunked lectures, we attended parties... the beginning was like a sunrise. Pretty. Warm. And full of hope.
I liked to think about those early days... it was a time I would not like to change ... the end however, I would change in a blink.
....................................................................................
PART 1 - The beginning
CHAPTER 1:
The sun beat down so hot that I thought the oceans would boil and the land will catch fire.
The sunlight was so bright that it blinded the birds, and so they took shelter in the trees.
"This heat will make my brain boil in its own fat, it's turning my skull into an oven", I thought with forced humour and sarcasm.
I walked down the lonely burning stretch of road, dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a half sleeved white shirt, humming some tune to myself, lost in the music which my ipod spat into my ears.
I regretted not picking up my cap when I left home earlier in the day.
Ever wake up feeling like you wanted to punch everybody and anybody you came across?
That was how I felt these days, all day... every day.
Except when I slept, for that was when she came, and she cured me of all violence, all pain.
I ran my fingers through the thick dark curls on my hand, they were moist with sweat... like damp grass wet with early morning dew.
I wiped my brow and walked on.
..................................................................................
CHAPTER 2:
Our love story was what many american writers liked to call 'the classic high school romance', but to us there was nothing typical about it.
We met in college, but it was hardly love at first sight.
She was attractive, but not really gorgeous, with a fair complexion, shoulder lenght wavy black hair and light brown hazel eyes, she was pretty enough to make heads turn.
And so my head had turned, and our eyes met, but that sounds too romantic, it really wasn't like that at all.
At least not in the beginning.
We started as friends, pure and simple, and now thinking back I realise that it was the best way to start. We started off like two teenagers.We went for movies, we bunked lectures, we attended parties... the beginning was like a sunrise. Pretty. Warm. And full of hope.
I liked to think about those early days... it was a time I would not like to change ... the end however, I would change in a blink.
That I would change without batting an eyelid.
...................................................................................
CHAPTER 3:
People will run for anything, they will run towards and from anything.
Fueled by a lifetime of missed and denied opportunities they run towards empty platforms in the hope of catching the last train.
Hoping and praying that they hadn't missed the last train yet.
And this hope carries them along, it helps them live their meaningless lives, the train is their 'Godot'.
But I'm not like that, I'm peter Pan, I fuck fairies and i dont run for anything.
I scowl at strangers and call them motherfuckers, sometimes to their face.
And so I don't run, Im inertia, a dead atom.
I deny movement.
...................................................................................
CHAPTER 3:
People will run for anything, they will run towards and from anything.
Fueled by a lifetime of missed and denied opportunities they run towards empty platforms in the hope of catching the last train.
Hoping and praying that they hadn't missed the last train yet.
And this hope carries them along, it helps them live their meaningless lives, the train is their 'Godot'.
But I'm not like that, I'm peter Pan, I fuck fairies and i dont run for anything.
I scowl at strangers and call them motherfuckers, sometimes to their face.
And so I don't run, Im inertia, a dead atom.
I deny movement.
They say movement is the essence of life, well I deny life its essence for I accept death's.
I sat down.
The man sitting opposite to me had hair like a butterfly's wings.
They spread out on both sides of his head, huge tufts of hair in both directions, it reminding me of those ridiculous wigs that clowns wear.
Great, glorious hair.. sticking out like an elephant's ears.
I tried to imagine his hair a bright green, and put a red ball on the tip of his nose, but he didn't have the face of a clown.
The man sitting next to 'the clown' had wavy shoulder lenght black hair, with blonde streaks.
About ten years seperated the two, except age wasn't what separated them at all.
At some points in their lives they dreamt different dreams and their dreams made them unique.
They both accepted different 'essances' of life, if it does exist in plural, and this showed in their hair, in their eyes.
The man with the clown hair had peaceful eyes. The other was as shifty as a rabbit.
No two people in this world are the same because no two people dream the same dream.
....................................................................................
CHAPTER 4:
"marry me"
"kabir this is not funny, I'm serious"
"so am I, marry me"
"is that a request or a command? listen this is not something that we can joke about"
"for the second time, I am not joking I am very serious,I think we are perfect for each other. so let's get married"
"and thats it, you have decided, now what do you expect me to do?
walk away into the sunset with you? c'mon kabir we can't just decide on something like this. This requires a lot of thought, I'm just not sure if we are going to work out."
"and why is that ?"
"I dont know kabir, we are just so different and we argue and fight over the stupidest things"
"so who doesn't? what do you expect, we are entitled to different opinions on things right?
you expect to find a guy who will agree with you on everything and who will never argue with you on anything?"
"I dont know, I am just so scared...Kabir I dont wanna lose you" there was a twinkle in her eyes which could have been love or sorrow or both, and I couldnt come up with anything to say to her.
And so I reached out and hugged her, she put her head on my chest and I knew that she was crying.
Not loud sobs though, just wet sighs.
So I took her in my arms, she shut her eyes, the twinkle of the setting sun, reflecting in them, and then she blinded out the sun, like an eclipse.
.................................................................................
CHAPTER 5:
The run up to our marriage was rather rough.
Both the families knew nothing about each other, and felt forced into an uncomfortable situation. They were going ahead with the arrangement, but only because they were left with no other option, and this made both sides even more bitter.
My father is a 62 year old man, too rigid in his ways but flexible in his approach, round and soft around the middle, thick and tough on top.
He had deep set eyes and a hawkish nose which was pretty much the most dominating feature on his face, it was growing thin and wise with age, like the root of a big oak tree.
His first reaction to our decision to get married was a predictable "why?"
"after all she is not the only girl on the planet, and trust me, if you look beyond your so called love you will realise that what you two have is nothing special.
Almost every boy and girl your age thinks that they are in love, and they probably are, but you guys over-rate it. At the end of the day it is just some sex and maybe a bit of emotional bonding, you will outgrow it. Think over it, don't be hasty, this decision will be with you for the rest of your life, hell this may just define your life," and then after a pause he said, "you know if there is one thing that life has taught me then it's that life aint no rock song my boy."
I sat down.
The man sitting opposite to me had hair like a butterfly's wings.
They spread out on both sides of his head, huge tufts of hair in both directions, it reminding me of those ridiculous wigs that clowns wear.
Great, glorious hair.. sticking out like an elephant's ears.
I tried to imagine his hair a bright green, and put a red ball on the tip of his nose, but he didn't have the face of a clown.
The man sitting next to 'the clown' had wavy shoulder lenght black hair, with blonde streaks.
About ten years seperated the two, except age wasn't what separated them at all.
At some points in their lives they dreamt different dreams and their dreams made them unique.
They both accepted different 'essances' of life, if it does exist in plural, and this showed in their hair, in their eyes.
The man with the clown hair had peaceful eyes. The other was as shifty as a rabbit.
No two people in this world are the same because no two people dream the same dream.
....................................................................................
CHAPTER 4:
"marry me"
"kabir this is not funny, I'm serious"
"so am I, marry me"
"is that a request or a command? listen this is not something that we can joke about"
"for the second time, I am not joking I am very serious,I think we are perfect for each other. so let's get married"
"and thats it, you have decided, now what do you expect me to do?
walk away into the sunset with you? c'mon kabir we can't just decide on something like this. This requires a lot of thought, I'm just not sure if we are going to work out."
"and why is that ?"
"I dont know kabir, we are just so different and we argue and fight over the stupidest things"
"so who doesn't? what do you expect, we are entitled to different opinions on things right?
you expect to find a guy who will agree with you on everything and who will never argue with you on anything?"
"I dont know, I am just so scared...Kabir I dont wanna lose you" there was a twinkle in her eyes which could have been love or sorrow or both, and I couldnt come up with anything to say to her.
And so I reached out and hugged her, she put her head on my chest and I knew that she was crying.
Not loud sobs though, just wet sighs.
So I took her in my arms, she shut her eyes, the twinkle of the setting sun, reflecting in them, and then she blinded out the sun, like an eclipse.
.................................................................................
CHAPTER 5:
The run up to our marriage was rather rough.
Both the families knew nothing about each other, and felt forced into an uncomfortable situation. They were going ahead with the arrangement, but only because they were left with no other option, and this made both sides even more bitter.
My father is a 62 year old man, too rigid in his ways but flexible in his approach, round and soft around the middle, thick and tough on top.
He had deep set eyes and a hawkish nose which was pretty much the most dominating feature on his face, it was growing thin and wise with age, like the root of a big oak tree.
His first reaction to our decision to get married was a predictable "why?"
"after all she is not the only girl on the planet, and trust me, if you look beyond your so called love you will realise that what you two have is nothing special.
Almost every boy and girl your age thinks that they are in love, and they probably are, but you guys over-rate it. At the end of the day it is just some sex and maybe a bit of emotional bonding, you will outgrow it. Think over it, don't be hasty, this decision will be with you for the rest of your life, hell this may just define your life," and then after a pause he said, "you know if there is one thing that life has taught me then it's that life aint no rock song my boy."
Mr Malhotra, as everyone called him, including his friends, was brutal in his outlook towards life.
He was blunt, honest and immensely perceptive. He had top degrees in business, economics and management from top institutes and had really used his intelligence to rise to the position that he was at.
At one point of time he was the sole earner of his family, and they did not own much, but he had worked hard and had taken care of all his responsibilities.
For him family came above all else, including self, and so he had devoted himself to his family, a family which had failed to devote itself to him.
He was blunt, honest and immensely perceptive. He had top degrees in business, economics and management from top institutes and had really used his intelligence to rise to the position that he was at.
At one point of time he was the sole earner of his family, and they did not own much, but he had worked hard and had taken care of all his responsibilities.
For him family came above all else, including self, and so he had devoted himself to his family, a family which had failed to devote itself to him.
Its members now growing apart, and struggling to pull themselves away from his control, like iron filings from a magnet.
I listened to my father tell me about love and relationship, something he knew nothing about, I listened to him patiently.
Even before Mr Malhotra had started, I knew what he would say- well at least a gist of it anyway.
So I sat there watching him sip his drink and continue with his tirade on love, life and everything in between.
"Kabir you need to think deep and hard about this..."
Even before Mr Malhotra had started, I knew what he would say- well at least a gist of it anyway.
So I sat there watching him sip his drink and continue with his tirade on love, life and everything in between.
"Kabir you need to think deep and hard about this..."
we are laughing, we are laughing as we run through a vast field of roses.
A red field, a river of blood.
The thorns rip our skins off and we are laughing.
The thorns shred our skins to shreds, and our souls are laughing. Our souls are running through a field of roses.
Two souls swimming in a river of blood.
"....get real my boy. Life isn't what you think it is. Dont jump to decisions, and what's your rush? how old are you anyway?"
`Dad you don't even know me, I want to live my own decisions, wrong or right at least they will be mine.
why do I wanna marry her? well simply because nobody can love me the way she does. I know it, and so I want to give her my life, for no one can love me like her.
But you won't understand, for you life is about living and nothing else, and so you won't understand, but I ask you this, will you atleast be a part of this important phase of my life or will you abandon me simply because you don't agree with my decision?
Be assured that I am going ahead with it, and I would love my family to be there with me when I embark upon this journey.
Please.'
....................................................................................
CHAPTER 6:
`Dont talk to your father unless you are sure that this childish wish of yours is worth the trouble. It will put his health and your relationship with him on the line.
You might get your wish, but you might end up losing him. Think about it.'
Kashmira's 42 year old mother had gotten over her initial shock over her daughter's choice for a husband. Her fear now was how kashmira's 48 year old father was going to react.
It would not be pleasant of that she was sure, she could just pray, and then be prepared for the worst.
`After everything that I have done. All the freedom that I granted you, this is what I get in return. How could you disgrace me like this Kashmira? Im so embarrassed, worse, ashamed..I'm ashamed of you. I did not expect you to behave so childishly, how could you be so immature, to talk about love, to your father, to his face?
Have you no shame?
No respect?'
Kashmira thought, `So the families are alike afterall'
.....................................................................................
A red field, a river of blood.
The thorns rip our skins off and we are laughing.
The thorns shred our skins to shreds, and our souls are laughing. Our souls are running through a field of roses.
Two souls swimming in a river of blood.
"....get real my boy. Life isn't what you think it is. Dont jump to decisions, and what's your rush? how old are you anyway?"
`Dad you don't even know me, I want to live my own decisions, wrong or right at least they will be mine.
why do I wanna marry her? well simply because nobody can love me the way she does. I know it, and so I want to give her my life, for no one can love me like her.
But you won't understand, for you life is about living and nothing else, and so you won't understand, but I ask you this, will you atleast be a part of this important phase of my life or will you abandon me simply because you don't agree with my decision?
Be assured that I am going ahead with it, and I would love my family to be there with me when I embark upon this journey.
Please.'
....................................................................................
CHAPTER 6:
`Dont talk to your father unless you are sure that this childish wish of yours is worth the trouble. It will put his health and your relationship with him on the line.
You might get your wish, but you might end up losing him. Think about it.'
Kashmira's 42 year old mother had gotten over her initial shock over her daughter's choice for a husband. Her fear now was how kashmira's 48 year old father was going to react.
It would not be pleasant of that she was sure, she could just pray, and then be prepared for the worst.
`After everything that I have done. All the freedom that I granted you, this is what I get in return. How could you disgrace me like this Kashmira? Im so embarrassed, worse, ashamed..I'm ashamed of you. I did not expect you to behave so childishly, how could you be so immature, to talk about love, to your father, to his face?
Have you no shame?
No respect?'
Kashmira thought, `So the families are alike afterall'
.....................................................................................
PART 2 - The Middle
CHAPTER 1:
CHAPTER 1:
`Where are my socks? why do you mess with my stuff? when you can't even organize your own?'
I had gone through the entire laundry cabinet, trying to find the missing sock that would make my pair complete.
All the while knowing that I would not find it, knowing that it would be lying under the bed, or in the kitchen or somewhere it isnt meant to be.
I was running late, and it would have been sensible to just wear a different pair, but it didnt strike me at that time.
I was too angry.
Kashmira stayed in the kitchen, angry, depressed, too bored of the routine to even react, she let Kabir and his socks be and prepared breakfast.
They ate in silence, and then left for work.
.....................................................................................
CHAPTER 2
'Hey Motherfucker, hey.. hey whats with the long face?' Rohan was one of my closest friends, even though we had known each other for just about a year.
Rohan was an assistant producer, and even though that made me his senior I had never really felt like that.
'Mate just life, sometimes that's enough to fuck up one's mood'
'Whoa heavy philosophy dude. Lets go for coffee, you can treat me and I will listen to your deep philosophical views on life, pain and women. You got a philosophy for why men like big breasts?'
'I did but Freud stole it. Mothefucker. Chal let's go.'
Coffee can work miracles sometimes.
I decided to call Kashmira in the afternoon, and it turned out that she was having an equally rotten day.
We talked and felt better, decided to bury the hatchet and promised each other that we need to be more patient.
On the way back I picked up her favourite pizza and she picked up a book by one of my favourite authors.
Over dinner we smiled and ate and at night we made some exhausted slow love and fell asleep.
This was the story of our lives.
.....................................................................................
CHAPTER 3
Death is not like opportunity.
It never knocks.
It's not like the big bad wolf either, it does not huff or puff or blow down your door.
It just trickles in through the key hole, like sand.
.....................................................................................
Part 3 - The Other Marriage
Chapter 1
He watched her get dressed with mixed feelings of disgust and sorrow.
He had loved her once, so strongly that it pained him even now, even when that love was gone, leaving in its wake a vaccum.
It pained him that he loved her when she was youthful, beautiful, energetic. When she moaned in bed like a pornstar and when she would tug at his penis in the middle of the night, unable to sleep because of her desire for him.
She wasn't youthful anymore, her beauty scarred by age and worry and life.
Her figure thrown off balance by childbirth and a couple of miscarriages.
And so he didn't love her anymore. He knew it, in fact sometimes he felt that even she knew it, and even though age had taken away her beauty, he had taken away her desire.
Sanil and Savita got married 4 years back. The initial couple of years were fun. Their's had been an arranged marriage, and for the initial period they were too busy discovering each other to really notice each other's flaws.
It was during their second year of marriage that Savita conceived for the first time.
It didn't survive.
Three months later she conceived again.
More disappointment.
That was the first speed bump.
Some months later, when they were in their third year, Savita conceived again and this time she promised herself that she would see it through.
She sat outside the ultrasonologist's office looking at that strip of black and white film with it's waves of grey and white.
She focussed on the white blip with tears in her eyes, and she resolved to herself that this time she will see it through.
So on a fateful day in january when the temperatures slipped down to new lows Savita struggled to keep her insides intact.
Through her tears she saw the glint of a blade, a sudden pain forgotten in the agony of labour and a flood of wetness between her legs.
Savita had fulfilled her promise.
I had gone through the entire laundry cabinet, trying to find the missing sock that would make my pair complete.
All the while knowing that I would not find it, knowing that it would be lying under the bed, or in the kitchen or somewhere it isnt meant to be.
I was running late, and it would have been sensible to just wear a different pair, but it didnt strike me at that time.
I was too angry.
Kashmira stayed in the kitchen, angry, depressed, too bored of the routine to even react, she let Kabir and his socks be and prepared breakfast.
They ate in silence, and then left for work.
.....................................................................................
CHAPTER 2
'Hey Motherfucker, hey.. hey whats with the long face?' Rohan was one of my closest friends, even though we had known each other for just about a year.
Rohan was an assistant producer, and even though that made me his senior I had never really felt like that.
'Mate just life, sometimes that's enough to fuck up one's mood'
'Whoa heavy philosophy dude. Lets go for coffee, you can treat me and I will listen to your deep philosophical views on life, pain and women. You got a philosophy for why men like big breasts?'
'I did but Freud stole it. Mothefucker. Chal let's go.'
Coffee can work miracles sometimes.
I decided to call Kashmira in the afternoon, and it turned out that she was having an equally rotten day.
We talked and felt better, decided to bury the hatchet and promised each other that we need to be more patient.
On the way back I picked up her favourite pizza and she picked up a book by one of my favourite authors.
Over dinner we smiled and ate and at night we made some exhausted slow love and fell asleep.
This was the story of our lives.
.....................................................................................
CHAPTER 3
Death is not like opportunity.
It never knocks.
It's not like the big bad wolf either, it does not huff or puff or blow down your door.
It just trickles in through the key hole, like sand.
.....................................................................................
Part 3 - The Other Marriage
Chapter 1
He watched her get dressed with mixed feelings of disgust and sorrow.
He had loved her once, so strongly that it pained him even now, even when that love was gone, leaving in its wake a vaccum.
It pained him that he loved her when she was youthful, beautiful, energetic. When she moaned in bed like a pornstar and when she would tug at his penis in the middle of the night, unable to sleep because of her desire for him.
She wasn't youthful anymore, her beauty scarred by age and worry and life.
Her figure thrown off balance by childbirth and a couple of miscarriages.
And so he didn't love her anymore. He knew it, in fact sometimes he felt that even she knew it, and even though age had taken away her beauty, he had taken away her desire.
Sanil and Savita got married 4 years back. The initial couple of years were fun. Their's had been an arranged marriage, and for the initial period they were too busy discovering each other to really notice each other's flaws.
It was during their second year of marriage that Savita conceived for the first time.
It didn't survive.
Three months later she conceived again.
More disappointment.
That was the first speed bump.
Some months later, when they were in their third year, Savita conceived again and this time she promised herself that she would see it through.
She sat outside the ultrasonologist's office looking at that strip of black and white film with it's waves of grey and white.
She focussed on the white blip with tears in her eyes, and she resolved to herself that this time she will see it through.
So on a fateful day in january when the temperatures slipped down to new lows Savita struggled to keep her insides intact.
Through her tears she saw the glint of a blade, a sudden pain forgotten in the agony of labour and a flood of wetness between her legs.
Savita had fulfilled her promise.
..........................................................................................................................................................................
Chapter 2
The child brought the two of them back together. It helped the two rekindle a bit of their old spark and romance once again bloomed.
Like a phoenix it rose. Mostly at night after the baby was put to sleep.
They started making love like teenagers.
They started making love like teenagers.
But it didnt last. Much like Sanil's hardness.
As the baby started growing and the feeling sunk in, their fights resumed.
The arguments over trivial inconsiquential things that made no or little difference to their lives, yet they fought over them.
That was when Sanil really started to look around, but it wasn't really the deterioration of his marriage that led him to hit on every piece of ass that he could spot, it really was something much deeper.
Like a hole inside of him which needed to be filled, but he never found anything big enough, heavy enough to fill it with.
"Red really is your colour, and have you lost weight?"
"Is it that noticeable! yeah I have lost a little, nothing major, have just been exercising. Thanx Sanil!" Pooja couldn't stop blushing. She had been tryng to lose weight for a couple of weeks now, and even though her mind told her that Sanil was only trying to flirt, what the hell, it felt nice anyway!
Pooja had recently joined ABC TV CORP as a marketing executive, she was average height, with lush black hair and a tiny frame which showed exactly where each extra pound went.
" Hey if you are free, then can we go out for coffee? We are on a recorded show for the next hour so we can quickly go grab a cup and then be back." Sanil said.
"I dont mind, I have a meeting later in the evening, but there is always time for a cup of coffee."
They went to the nearby cafe, he ordered a latte and she a Mocha freeze.
"So how is work? how are we doing in the markets? you guys still making a killing thanx to us!" Sanil teased. It was a regular joke he played on every marketing exec he bumped into.
"Excuse me! If it wasnt for us, you editorial guys wouldnt enjoy those fat salary packages. We are bringing in the cash, you guys are the expense."
"You got me there", Sanil said.
That day they went out for a drink after work. It was late by the time they finished dinner and drinks and Sanil offered to drop her home.
She agreed.
She was a bit drunk, and she could feel herself slipping away. She knew Sanil was going to try something smart on her and she really didn't mind.
He had been fun and she had had fun with him. So she was gonna let the moment slide and carry her along.
They made love on the back seat of his car in the parking lot of the hotel.
It was slow and calculated and in that confined space as they twisted and turned and bent their bodies to take each other in they forgot all about work and marriage and life.
"Do you have a condom?" Pooja panted.
Thankfully he did.
.....................................................................................
Sunday, May 06, 2007
The Foolish and the Wise
Happiness,
a fool's treasure,
for the wise man knows no such thing exists.
Sadness,
a fool laments it like a personal loss,
for the wise man knows no such thing exists.
Beauty,
the source of a fool's vanity,
for the wise man knows it exists everywhere.
Money,
the fool yearns for more,
for the wise man has too much of it.
Religion,
the fool calls it a cure,
for what the wise man calls an ailment.
Love,
the wise man's treasure,
for the fool knows no such thing exists.
a fool's treasure,
for the wise man knows no such thing exists.
Sadness,
a fool laments it like a personal loss,
for the wise man knows no such thing exists.
Beauty,
the source of a fool's vanity,
for the wise man knows it exists everywhere.
Money,
the fool yearns for more,
for the wise man has too much of it.
Religion,
the fool calls it a cure,
for what the wise man calls an ailment.
Love,
the wise man's treasure,
for the fool knows no such thing exists.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Friday, April 20, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Eternity is Painful
the traitor in the ceiling let the sunlight in
lazy, sleepy sunlight which hadnt slept for centuries.
time! i hate time!
it covers all in its blanket of dust
weaving a spell of forgetfulness, making memories invisible
all but pain, for pain weaves its own magic,
time heals nothing.
each smile is a camouflage,
a crack, which lets a tear seep through.
if you look long enough,
then each thing beautiful eventually turns ugly
nothing is eternal but pain.
lazy, sleepy sunlight which hadnt slept for centuries.
time! i hate time!
it covers all in its blanket of dust
weaving a spell of forgetfulness, making memories invisible
all but pain, for pain weaves its own magic,
time heals nothing.
each smile is a camouflage,
a crack, which lets a tear seep through.
if you look long enough,
then each thing beautiful eventually turns ugly
nothing is eternal but pain.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Pauper Kings
walking down narrow congested streets
alive, choking with their abundance
shadows of new born lovers,
adorn the age-old walls.
the king walks the streets with his queen
for they have no chariot,
Yay! pauper kings!
their castle is yet to be built.
broken dreams of a failed royalty
prick the insides of their soul,
like shards of broken glass.
torn snapshots of moments forgotten,
a rockstar's scream is their music.
alive, choking with their abundance
shadows of new born lovers,
adorn the age-old walls.
the king walks the streets with his queen
for they have no chariot,
Yay! pauper kings!
their castle is yet to be built.
broken dreams of a failed royalty
prick the insides of their soul,
like shards of broken glass.
torn snapshots of moments forgotten,
a rockstar's scream is their music.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
It's Cricket's Ultimate Carnival!
its world cup time folks !!
its tough to get poetic at such a time, but lets not lose hope just yet. let's wait till india's loss and then the ache will shine through.
who are you supporting ?
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
All about Money
The FM realising that India is a country of poor oral hygiene, announces a reduction in the price of mouth freshners.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Night is the death we die eachday
the sun sets in your eyes
the moon rises in mine,
awake, not alive, breathing yet asleep
i sleep and each day i die.
slowly, a minute a time
life oozes out,
a drop a time.
the tv on mute is a nightlight
connected to you,
like a virtual fighter
you press my buttons, you are responsible for my rage, for my victories.
a pillow for a lover
i seek refuge in space,
from my past
from my sins.
life ends when the sins of your heart
catch up with the inadequacies of your mind.
the moon rises in mine,
awake, not alive, breathing yet asleep
i sleep and each day i die.
slowly, a minute a time
life oozes out,
a drop a time.
the tv on mute is a nightlight
connected to you,
like a virtual fighter
you press my buttons, you are responsible for my rage, for my victories.
a pillow for a lover
i seek refuge in space,
from my past
from my sins.
life ends when the sins of your heart
catch up with the inadequacies of your mind.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
something to ponder upon
They say, ships are safest in the harbour, but then thats not what ships are built for...
Sunday, January 21, 2007
This magical night
This is a night of our union
this is a magical night.
I never want this moment to end
I want this night to go on forever.
This is the night our souls purge themselves of all sin
this is the night of our communion,
this night is the stallion on which we ride into the sunset
into our dreamland.
This night I surrender to you,
this night I dedicate to you,
this night I worship you.
This night is not of the moon's or the star's
this night has no day,
this night will never return.
This night is a lifetime
this night is eternal,
this night is ours.
this is a magical night.
I never want this moment to end
I want this night to go on forever.
This is the night our souls purge themselves of all sin
this is the night of our communion,
this night is the stallion on which we ride into the sunset
into our dreamland.
This night I surrender to you,
this night I dedicate to you,
this night I worship you.
This night is not of the moon's or the star's
this night has no day,
this night will never return.
This night is a lifetime
this night is eternal,
this night is ours.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Marriage, I recommend it!
for the ones who like to live dangerously
who like to take life head-on,
swim with the crocodiles
the ones who like to give sharks a root canal.
if you are sick of living on medicines, for your headache which comes and goes
then its the one never-ending pain in the cerebellum
the final pinch of pain as the pimple bursts,
the ultimate cry of orgasmic ecstacy.
i recommend it,
just the way i recommend blue denims and white tees for a walk in the park.
who like to take life head-on,
swim with the crocodiles
the ones who like to give sharks a root canal.
if you are sick of living on medicines, for your headache which comes and goes
then its the one never-ending pain in the cerebellum
the final pinch of pain as the pimple bursts,
the ultimate cry of orgasmic ecstacy.
i recommend it,
just the way i recommend blue denims and white tees for a walk in the park.
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