Onion

Archive for 2008

Jaan-e-jaana

In Kavyaanjali, Nazm-o-Ghazal on December 25, 2008 at 11:14 pm

A song I wrote during the Delhi fever.

Purvaiya patto par geet likhti hai,
Har chehre me yaar tu hi dikhti hai,
Chehra tera jaise bhor ka ujala,
Tu muskuraye to sama ho matwala,
Jaan-e-jaana.

Tere pyaar me hum ho gaye baitaagi,
Teri aas me raiin bhar ye aankhe jaagi,
Jaagi aankho me neend gholne tu aana,
Nazaro ke raaste mere dil me samaana,
Jaan-e-jaana.

Aawara sapne yaar roz aate hai,
Un sapno me tumko saath paate hai,
Pakar rahenge tumko hum jaane-e-jaana,
Lakh roke chahe ye zaalim zamaana,
Jaan-e-jaana.

Statutory Warning: I have a very melodious voice. The broken window glass from my wing in Hall 2 is testimony to that. So is the hearing aid my room mate from that time has to wear these days. :) On that note, please find the audio for this song below.

Audio:Jaan-e-Jaana

Mahabalipuram

In Out of focus on December 25, 2008 at 1:11 am
Sun on the rocks

Sun on the rocks

Aaftaabdast

Aaftaabdast

The seer

The seer

Tu na ho mehfil me to rang jamaana kaisa

In Nazm-o-Ghazal on December 23, 2008 at 11:30 am

Pre Script: This nazm was written on December 23 2008 in Grand Trunk Express on my journey from Chennai to Jhansi. The nazm was written in about 10 minutes. I will recount the entire story in a separate post.

Inspiration: Girl on the side berth in the adjacent compartment.

Tu na ho to mehfil me rang jamaana kaisa,
Na ho jis fasaane me tu woh fasaana kaisa.

Rehte hai shab-o-roz sanam aankho me miri,
Bismil ka gairo se nazar milaana kaisa.

Dekh lijiye ek baar nazar bhar ke hume,
shama ka parvaane se nazar firaana kaisa.

Ho jaate khak naaz dekh ke aapke magar,
diljale hai diljalo ka dil jalaana kaisa.

Le jaana chahte hai nakhairan erum hume,
Dil me ho aap to khuld tak jaana kaisa.

Khabar hai hume ki aasaan nahi muhabbat yaaro,
Milne de sanam se hume woh zamaana kaisa.

Dekh rahe hai kab se aashiqchashm tujhe ‘ghafil’
na samjhe aankho se to samjhaana kaisa.

Maayne

Bismil: Lover
Erum: Paradise
Nakhairan: Angels (?) who come to grave to take the dead to paradise
Khuld: Paradise
Aashiqchashm: Eyes of lover | loving eyes

Nagma

In Nazm-o-Ghazal on November 25, 2008 at 10:43 am

Dila kaise fursat ho hume ghazalgoi se aajkal,
Ki zarra zaarra kehta hai koi nagma humse.

Khirama khirama kar rahi hai roshan isha,
Goya ki koi nazm kahti ho nazma humse.

Tanha tanha baithe hai pahlunashi hokar bhi,
Jaane kyun roothi hue hai salma humse.

Yeh jo likha hai payam naam unke humne qasid,
Siva iske na likha gaya koi kalima humse.

Woh chhod ke chale gaye sare-bazm hume,
‘Ghafil’ bandhaa na gaya fir sama humse.

Maayne:

Dila: Addressing the Heart
Ghazalgoi: The art of writing ghazal
Khirama Khirama: Slowly
isha: Night
Nazm: Poetic composition
Nazma: Star, Used here as a name
Pahlunashi: A person sitting very near to you
Salma: beautiful woman, Used here as a name
Payam: Message
Qasid: Messenger
Kalima: Prayer
Sare-bazm: In the middle of a meeting

Nagmaye-Joota

In Nazm-o-Ghazal on November 24, 2008 at 2:53 am

Woh muhabbat hi kya jo tu kuchh juda pehne,
Mein jo joota pehnoo tu bhi wahi joota pehne.

Khaar-e-daura lekar chalte hain saath apne,
Guzar kiye hai kai raaste humne bin joota pehne.

Arzoo hai feeta bandhoo mein tere naam ka,
Kya karein jo ghafil bin feete ka joota pehne.

Na rakh apne pairo ko zameen par nazneen,
Tujhe daaman me le chalenge hum joota pehne.

Feete khule na rakho paiirhan-e-paiir ke ‘ghafil’
Hote hain dard aur bhi jab giro joota pehne.

POST SCRIPT

This one came out impromptu when me and my friends went shopping on Sunday (November 23) for shoes. The last shop, the one from which we bought shoes finally, was run by khaalis bhaijaan. Itni muhabbat se joote dikhaye unhone hume ghafil ki kya kahe…ghazal kehni padh gayi.

Now that I have posted it here, I am seeing a deep philosophical meaning in the damn thing. And as always:

Maayne

Nagmaye-joota: Song of the shoe
Khaar-e-daura: All the plights of the time
Feeta: Shoe-lace (here)
Nazneen: Soft, beautiful girl
Paiirhan-e-paiir: Shoe (Clothing of the foot)
Ghafil: As always…yours truly :) | Actual meaning:Uninformed, Fool

Karvat

In Nazm-o-Ghazal on November 19, 2008 at 9:03 pm

Bandooke kahti hai azaan alsubah aajkal,
Murde jaate hai mere peer ki sohbat me.

Shaboroz taul aate hai deen ko deenaro se,
Bik jaata hai allah mera gurbat me.

Kya laye hai hazrat khushamad ke vaaste?
masoomo ke sar hai janaab khidmat me.

Ya khuda beparada kar mere imaan ki laash ko,
Ke Jiya nahi jaata mujhse ab ghaflat me.

Kyun khoon se rangte ho roya mira ‘ghafil’
Badal jaata hai manzar meri ek karvat me.

Maayne

Azaan: Call for the prayer (Namaaz)
Shaboroz: Shab-o-roz – Day and night, at all times
Deen: Religion, way of life
Deenar: A currency
Gurbat: Poverty
Hazrat: Used here sarcastically, the word is a general reference to a respected person
Khidmat: In your service
Ghaflat: Confusion, misinformation
Roya: dream
Manzar: situation

In the last line the speaker is the entire population.

Shawwal

In Nazm-o-Ghazal on October 28, 2008 at 3:39 pm

Fir aankh lagi aur tera khayal aaya,
Mire jehan me aaj fir woh sawaal aaya.

Khuda raham karta nahi kyun bismil par,
Kyun but-e-khaq par aisa jamaal aaya?

But-shikan the ab se pehle hum zaalim,
But-parast hue ki jo daur-e-visaal aaya.

Tire aane se roshan ho gaye mere andhere,
Amavas ke baad falak pe hilaal aaya.

Fir chhod ke chale gaye tum hume ‘ghafil’
Ro pada dil jo tiri yaad le ke shawwal aaya

Maayne:

Bismil: Lover
But-e-khaq: Idol made form clay, here it refers to human form
Jamaal: Beauty
But-shikan: one who does not worship idols
But-parast: one who does idol-worship
Daur-e-visaal: Time of meeting
Falak: Skyline
Hilaal: Crescent moon
Shawaal: Tenth month of the Islamic calendar. Although it does not refer to October because the Islamic calendar is lunar, it usually coincides with a large part of October and it is used here in the sense of October. Reasons are obvious to those who know me. End of!

NERD has an Office now!

In Peeling Onions! on October 16, 2008 at 8:20 pm

Notes on Engineering Research and Development (NERD) – IIT Kanpur’s Student led Research magazine now has a proper Office. The Alumni Association of IIT Kanpur, as a kind gesture, gave us their old office (in Students’ Activity Center of IIT Kanpur) for use. They left behind furniture, 3 ACs and a white board along with hell of a lot of dirt and waste. But it is understandable. The office was out of use ever since the Association moved to its new office in the adjoining Outreach Building. The Office cleaning drive starts tomorrow. Fellow NERDS, be ready with the brooms! Keep checking the website for Before-After photographs and the adventures we do while cleaning the place.

Last year, when I was serving as the President of Students’ Gymkhana, the SAC Book Club underwent complete shifting and renovation. At that time I completely forgot to make a comparative photo album. Also, the Office decorations et cetera involved only three people so there wasn’t much fun. This time we are trying a very different paradigm with the team building exercise in NERD. In accordance with that, it is certainly expected that Friday evening’s cleaning drive will be one hell of an adventure.

So long,
Onion

\\

Sunshine from the sunset spree

In Smiling Tears on October 9, 2008 at 4:50 am

I walk my own way,
the broken path on the west.
Little sunshine from the sunset spree,
that finished atop the mystic tree.
Lights up my way,
the broken path on the west.

Cookie Jar Chronicle

In Aadhi Haqeeqat Aadha fasaana on October 9, 2008 at 4:34 am

This happened today after Tomato Onion uttapam, Nawabi Combo of Dal Tadka, mixed Veg, Raita, Gulaab Jamun, Rumaali Roti,Biryani plus Bhel and Papari Chaat. Read on.

“So tell me the entire story. How is it that your mother knows?” asked Sid

“I told her. I thought I should tell her. She is about the only friend I have – and given the fact that she was once a girl helps. R=G dude. It’s C K Prahlad all over.” said Rotlu

“Yeah yeah. Get over him. He is teaching at Ross and you are stuck here in the Kanpur moss.” So much for rap.

Rotlu told Sid the two stories. “So these are the two. The ones who got away.”

“Dude I don’t get the being committed idea. I mean we are what, not more than 24 years old!
And there is whole world out there waiting for us and we go and get committed.” said Sid.

“I agree. I mean not in a sour grapes way but yes I agree in general. All I wanted to tell the Capital girl was that – Ya know, in soccer they have goalposts and goalkeepers stand there protecting them, but my lady, goals happen even then. Cheers! – This is what I wanted to tell her. But then I thought I should leave things the way they are.”

“Anyway how does your mother know about the other girl?” asked Sid

“I told you that I told her. Mom asked me – What will you talk to her? – I said – This is where you come in. What did Pa talk to you about?”

“He he. What did she say?”

“She said – Mr. Betulaal that stays between Pa and Ma. Churn up your own conversation. Let’s see what you come up with. And as I told you, the girl spent the time listening to my drone and was finally escorted back to the Hostel Gate. But there were times in the conversation when I think she was almost interested. Like the time when she was listening to me and was dropping all the food on her shawl or when she was playing with the shawl. And that was beautiful. The way she did that.”

“Hmm. So your mother knows.” said Sid

“Yeah. She knows more. She said – Are there further plans on this. So I am taken unawares. But it’s cool since Ma and Pa didn’t have an arranged marriage. I said – When there will be plans, you will be the co-conspirator.” Rotlu said

“He he. Good one. And you say she saw the pictures.” continued Sid

“Yeah. I was showing her the pictures from the trip to the mountains and beside that folder was a folder named Abi. So she asked me – What’s up with Abi? Normally I wouldn’t allow an intrusion. But her tone was as if she knew the whole thing and was trying to pull my leg. So I knew the territory was cool. She looked at her photo and nodded – sort of approved the photo. I told her- Ma I told Abi that I liked her. And she said – Hmmm, Ahaa, Ahaa – again, leg pulling.”

“Cool. It’s great man. You can talk about this with your mom. Cool mom.”

“Sid, the way I see it, I am still that kid from kindergarten and this girl is my present and every time she comes gift-wrapped I just run to my mom just to say that – Look Ma! See what I got. Isn’t she wonderful? – And Ma understands that. I will remain a kid. I don’t want to grow up.”

“Wow. I am like that too but it is just that I can’t share stuff like that as freely as you do. Anyway what happened on the walk with the firang?” asked Sid.

“Walk started with both of us cursing the President but after two years in Governance I couldn’t take anymore of that so we shifted to childhood. She told me about a locket fetish, wherein she would wear lots of lockets and then swing them around so that they made noise. Dude – when she did the swinging action her hand moved in such a feminine manner, I melted. Vaporized more like. And she moves her palms when she talks and elaborates on something – in the most feminine manner. Every inch of her is a girl if you see what I mean. And throughout the walk and everything before that I would either be open mouthed, unable to utter a word or would talk non stop in a gibberish manner. I lose complete control. And that has made me respect girls. They have so much power over us. Some know that and use the power, some know and don’t use and some don’t know and still use it. She is the second kind of girl. At least that’s the image I have of her.”

Rotlu stared at the blank wall but was clearly seeing beyond it when Sid suddenly said: ” Ultimately you fall in love with yourself.”

“What?” Rotlu was confused.

“It’s like you have not seen your own back and when you see it in a mirror, you realize what you didn’t know that you had and then you just fall for it. So girl you like completes you in your perception and that creates the spiral down which you get flushed.” Sid said this, with a serene smile, as if he was on the spiral’s joy ride.

‘Wow. That is the most wonderful thing I have ever heard. She completes the whole thing. Great! Was this spontaneous or you have a gospel hidden somewhere?”

“This my friend is the result of the power they have on us – spontaneous.” Sid said.

Minutes later, Rotlu picked up the last cookie from the cookie jar, picked up his book and left Sid’s room, still thinking about the firang-to-be. Meanwhile the capital girl slept in her bed.

Don’t worry. This is just a mouth-to-mouth for my blog. It’s good to be back.

Onion

Gee Mate!

In Peeling Onions! on October 9, 2008 at 3:41 am

So finally I gave GMAT on 7th October. 710/800 folks. Not too bad but not good either. But put in just 10 hours of preparation time and you have a satisfying experience even with 710. I know – sour grapes. I guess with no work experience yours truly will have to pull off a miracle here. But then since it has started, let’s do it! A full schol to Stan is too good to lose.

I have to say that the whole GMAT experience was fun. After a long time, I actually enjoyed giving an exam. And the girl at the invigilation post was cute too. Allahabad (Exam center) was not much different from Kanpur – at least the parts I saw. As always I made friends with the cycle-rickshaw-wallahs. Some good time pass while cruising on the cycle through the city’s thoroughfare. I think that every connection you make, no matter how small, matters somewhere in your personal space. And most of the times we forget the small things that happened but somewhere, these small things count. One of them can be a rickshaw-wallah telling me – Bhaiyaji doosro ka dil dukhaane waale kabhi aage nahi badte. paisa kama lenge par jeevan me khushi nahi mil paati. Hamare 2 bachche hai hai aur bahut duniya dekhi hai hamne. Vishvaas kariye hamaraa. (Brother, those who pain the hearts of others will never do well in life. They might amass wealth but they will never be happy. Believe me as I have seen the world and have two kids.)

Not far off from truth coming from Bobby the rickshaw guy. Life’s little treasures.

Electric Overdose

In Aadhi Haqeeqat Aadha fasaana, Booze! on August 31, 2008 at 8:17 am

I was in a dream till now,
And woke up with jolt,
Due to her several thousand volt.
Saw her at the joint,
She took me to the point,
Where I almost,
Died,
Of an electric overdose.

She stared at me,
It was there I swear,
Smile of a lipless robot.
Metallic heart, metallic thought.
And with the passion of a sun-hot furnace
My spirits rose,
Sparked,
Off an electric overdose.

And now she’s gone,
And every moment I stay rooted,
As if I am electrocuted.
I wake up with a jolt,
Due to her several thousand volt.
Tell me have you ever had,
a case this bad,
Of an electric overdose?


Halfway through writing this poem, I realized that it describes my encounter with a girl I know. Sometimes subconsciously the thoughts come out as words – pouring in on the canvas due to an electric overdose :)

A+

In Peeling Onions! on August 30, 2008 at 7:56 am

I have a friend. He is usually called Sam. A few days ago he buzzed me up and asked for my Blood Group. I immediately knew that Blood was required somewhere. In IIT Kanpur half the mails on All mailing list are about blood required somewhere. It’s hard to believe that we still have blood left after four years at the place. It hasn’t been bad, I just liked the statement as I wrote it (seems like it’s fashionable to be a cynic).

Anyway the point is that for a moment, I hesitated answering. I don’t know why but I just did. And just after that I typed in my blood type (B+). The type required was A+. Donating blood is harmless if needles are sterilized and the amount taken is controlled. But there’s so much stigma attached to it that I hesitated. I found out later that the blood was required for the wife of a person whose help I used seek almost every day during my tenure. She is fine now. I am not. Guilt…is a bad thing. It sticks for a long time.

The unwritten job

In Peeling Onions! on August 13, 2008 at 1:11 am

Dear Diary,
There are medals for a good CGPA. The President and Director give them away under their name every year. There are no medals for being a good guy. But yet you feel compelled to do the unwritten job. Never assigned to you by the same scribes who decide the gold medalists but realized for reasons that you can not spell out explicitly yourself. It’s not ‘ You won’t.’ It is ‘You can’t.’ And you do them. You fall prey to them every now and then you do them. And you reap the results too. But the world is very objective. A shelf full of trophies is coveted more than a good night’s sleep and being able to see yourself in the mirror. And what’s more, they won’t recognize you for doing the job, for being the good guy, for understanding the duties and carrying them out, sometimes at the expense of the trophies. They won’t remember you. You are not on the ‘list.’ You are not the one whose smug face will appear in the city edition of the national newspaper. You are the one whose face will fade away.

But you do it. Because the medal sells cheap at the five and dime in Kalyanpur. But the other thing can’t be sold. It remains with you, forever. No one can take that away and there’s a reason why they don’t give medals for it. No medal can represent it in its entirety. Only you can. And so you must. You must do the unwritten job. You might fail, be ridiculed or end up a loser. But you must do it because what you CAN do, you MUST!

My apologies to my parents. My apologies to my peers. Never did I see people who loved trophies so much. My apologies to myself, I lost the mirror. My apologies to the world. Fuck you! Fuck you very much!

My tributes to Rippan and the MCB that was published by McGraw Hill. They cared to talk about him: the one who would CRY for those who had stopped crying, thinking that it was of no use.

Onion

He knew that I knew that he didn’t :)

In Peeling Onions! on August 10, 2008 at 10:51 am

I met Raj because of Saumya. A few days before Saumya left the campus we went on a roller coaster night trip that took us to Dhaba, an obscure tea shop at Rawatpur (A Kanpur suburb) Station serving excellent tea in Laloo’s kulhads and numerous alleys in search of a special Pan shop (which we never found) before we ended up at Ganga Ghat thinking it was Massacre Ghat (which is also a ghat of the Ganges). We returned to campus at around 6 am. Driving full speed on Grand Trunk in the morning has a charm of its own.

Anyway, Saumya left the campus. One day, after a brief Google talk with him, I left for library and on my way I met Raj.

Me: Hi Raj! How are you doing.
Raj: (caught unawares) Uh-oh! I am fine. How are you?
Me: I am fine too. Going to library.
Raj: I am just returning from my lab. So what’s up these days.
Me: Nothing much since Saumya left. In fact I was just chatting with him. So what’s up at your end?
Raj: Same old. So Saumya is fine?
Me: Yeah, he is fine.
Raj: Good, good. So, I will catch up with you later.
Me: Sure. See you around.
Raj: Yeah. Bye
Me: Bye.

He knew that I knew that he didn’t recognize me and didn’t have an inkling of who I was. But he engaged in conversation anyway. It’s funny how such things happen and how accommodating people can be just so that the others are at ease and they themselves are at ease too.

Anyway, this is the 100th post on this blog which derives from several blogs I created and destroyed ever since I began blogging in August 2005. That way, my blogging habit is now three years old. The readership at my blogs has been minimal as almost everything else has been in the past three years. Not that it hasn’t been good. It’s been great but we know the human mind – nothing is enough!

Adios,
Onion

Angels from midnight

In Peeling Onions! on August 8, 2008 at 9:33 pm

Have you lost your sounding board?
The one wall that echoed?
Fighting another lost battle,
Lost in dust yet to settle.

We are here, Him and Son,
Some say emissaries of Satan
Who knows? They might be right.
But for now,
We’re your angels from midnight.

Dark circles round the eyes,
Cold breathe in tired sighs.
You are broken wanna bet?
Smoke from a wet cigarette.

Kurt had his own reason,
This is a different season.
Don’t look for an escapade,
No burn out, do not fade,

Life is not a filter’s game,
Don’t sell it for 74 mm.
We know we’re right,
After all,
We’re the angels from midnight.

Bitchmeter

In Aadhi Haqeeqat Aadha fasaana, Snippets on August 3, 2008 at 3:20 pm

So Sid and Shef have graduated and they meet after six years at a small reunion meet. Sample conversation:

Shef: So what have you been up to?
Sid: Nothing much. I am a salesman. Fancy becoming one after four years at IIT.
Shef: What do you mean salesman?
Sid: I make and take, bake and sale companies. I am a salesman.
Shef: And how many have you sold salesman?
Sid: Four. I was fired from the fifth one.
Shef: Huh!
Sid: Anyway what have you been doing?
Shef: Oh me! I pursued graduate school. Then came back and joined as faculty here.

Sid: Oh great! See we did tell you that you will do PhD one day. I was wondering how come you look so beautiful. The ‘matki’ syndrome is still around it seems.
Shef: Yeah Yeah whatever!
Sid: So how many people did you fail in your last course?
Shef: Huh! Why would you ask that?
Sid: Just to gauge the bitchiness. Make sure it’s still there.

Tee Hee Hee

Life for hire

In Booze! on August 3, 2008 at 1:05 pm

Hullo!
Are you broken pieces rife?
Let’s go and get a life,
for you.

Put the pieces all together
And if you can’t gather
all of ‘em,
Don’t worry they’re all the same.
Left overs of a past life,
Last night’s food on fork and knife.

Wash your sins, purge ‘em all
And then make this little call.
’tis false but is still relief,
Welcome to emporium of belief.
We know your heaven’s on fire,
We will get you a life for hire.

Go ahead make your choice
No discounts, fixed price,
You can rent her fresh and cheap.
At the emporium of belief.
Take in person, no wire
Just a life, for hire.

So!
Are you broken pieces rife?

Tadap

In Nazm-o-Ghazal on July 26, 2008 at 10:42 am

Is biyaban me bahaar ko tadape hum.
Zaalim, fir tire deedaar ko tadape hum,

Kya kare ki tasveer se baat nahi banti,
Bakhuda visaal-e-yaar ko tadape hum.

Chhup gaye ashq mire saawan me aaj fir,
Aankho ke us aabshaar ko tadape hum.

Shabnami si hai kuchh mire sirhaane abhi,
Bikhar sake jaha us gulzaar ko tadape hum.

Aadat kuchh aisi hai muntziri ki hume ‘ghafil’
Tire milne pe tere intezaar ko tadape hum.

Maayne

Biyabaan: desert
Bakhuda:by God
Visaal-e-yaar: Meeting with the beloved
Aabshaar:Waterfall
Gulzaar: Garden
Muntziri: the process of waiting for someone

Ibadat

In Nazm-o-Ghazal on July 25, 2008 at 1:36 am

Bhatake teri galiyon me fir rahat ke liye,
Kho baithe khudko teri chahat ke liye.

Jaane kitne gham samete maine zaalim,
Tere chehre pe ek muskurahat ke liye.

Raat bhar yu jaage geeli karvat par,
Aasaish tere kadamo ki aahat ke liye.

Dhoondte ho tum dawa-e-dard-e-dil,
Koi dawa nahi is ‘alaalat ke liye.

Mil lije mujhse mire rehte ‘ghafil’
Aaoge fir meri gor pe ibadat ke liye.

Maayne:

Aasaish: Hope
‘alaalat:ailment, sickness
Gor: Grave

Ugly Teddy

In Booze! on July 22, 2008 at 2:53 am

So my friend Prabha buzzes for some Keygens and during the download I say, “Gimme some topic for instant poetry.” And out of no where she reels off: “Write me something about an ugly teddy bear with a gun.” Hence this song (Yeah I already have a tune for it now. Cool ha?):

I make full moons into crescent sun
Am an ugly teddy bear with big bad gun
Love’s not a child’s play
That’s all I can say
Babe am not a plaything
door’s over there, it’s time to bing
Be on the run babe be on the run,
‘Coz Am an ugly teddy bear with a big bad gun

Big bad gun x5 (fading with each repetition)

Bang!
Onion

Maktoob

In Nazm-o-Ghazal on July 18, 2008 at 1:47 pm

Phirte ho gairo ke irshaad-o-bahut khoob ke liye,
Likh dijiye kabhi ek ghazal mehboob ke liye.

Pehlu me chhod gaya tha kal jo sitamgar,
Mahak woh kaafi hai jeene ko majoob ke liye.

Kuchh der aur dekh lene do hume raah yaaro,
Guzar kiye hai zamaane humne mansoob ke liye.

‘Ghafil’ utha laye poora maikada fir se,
Kalam bhar kaafi hai mire maktoob ke liye.

(And as Saumya said)Maayne:

irshaad-o-bahut khoob: Invitation and appreciation for shayari
majoob: victim of anger
mansoob: one who has been engaged to someone
maikada: Bar, sharaab-khanah
maktoob: that which has been written, letter

Jalti bujhti battiyaan

In Kavyaanjali on July 13, 2008 at 1:23 am

Aangan ki chaupaal ke aage,
Jalti bujhti battiyaan.
Gupchup meri kahani kahti,
Jalti bujhti battiyaan.

Kabhi parchhai, kabhi andhere,
Pal bhar pal ke saanjh-savere.
Lukachhipi roz khelti,
Jalti bujhti battiyaan.

Din me panchhiyon ka dera,
Raat patangon ka basera.
Chaukidaar ko mooh chidhati,
Jalti bujhti battiyaan.

SPAMayhem

In Aadhi Haqeeqat Aadha fasaana, Booze! on July 12, 2008 at 1:38 pm

I was checking my GMail when my eyes went to the number of spam mails I had: 1093! GMail deletes any spam mails if they have been in the spam-box for over thirty days. So these mails were those received less than thirty days ago. Anyway, I decided to read some of the mails and here’s the scoop. Out of the 150 mails I went through (I didn’t have the heart to go on after that), about 70% wanted to increase my potency, rectify my woes in bed, make me last longer there, enlarge where it matters, make my ‘da da’ thicker without pumps and jumps or impress my non-existent girlfriend with tree-trunk for a penis. This other guy was selling viagara for free. Can you even call it selling then? And what if these things really work? I mean, for the sake of all the tailors in the world, what the bloody hell would happen if someone gulps down all the stuff in one go! I can only wonder!I can only hope that chaachi brings in some experience when he talks back from the Sin City :P

So ‘long’
Onion

A few samples:

1.

SENDER: Justin Evans
SUB: No Pumps! No surgery! No exercises!

Be the stud in 2008, and achieve all your dreams of super size!
Increase both your thickness and length within a few short weeks – women simply love it when you have a large manhood.
http://backfeel.com/

What does he mean ‘your thickness.’ With a 42 waistline I am thick enough :P I didn’t know being fat was a turn on for women. Cool!

2.

SENDER: Gina
SUB:It’s Gina

Hi
It`s gina again. Will you ever contact me?
I made those nude pictures especially for you and I wont write to you again!
If you wanna see them just drop me a line at: gina49@hugdr.info

This chick took all her photoshop lessons just so that she could do nudes for dudes! Why go through trouble of asking. Just send them already. BItch!

3.
SENDER: Lon Sanford
SUB: Last Longer in bed
“Ever since I started on your herbal supplement, Sharon says sex is so much more pleasurable for her, and she comes much more easily”. David, Florida, USA
Size DOES matter, and unfortunately, many traditional methods to increase size simply DON’T work, and are very inconvenient.
http://litestem.com/

I last long in bed anyway. At home I last no less than 12 hours. They have to beat me up with sticks to wake me up. So there!
4.
SENDER: Pam M. Britt
SUB: Do you want to enlarge you da da?!
Dear a.r.vijayabaskar@gmail.com (It’s not even my email address!)
http://geapkeel.com
Do you want enlarge your da da upto 4 inches?
Amazing, PERMANENT RESULTS that will last.

? Gain 3+ Inches In Length.
? Increase Your P3nls Width (Girth) By up\to 20%.
http://geapkeel.com

Thanks
Jennifer Anniston

Da da? What the fuck is da da?

Kaandaa Kahin – 1

In Peeling Onions! on June 28, 2008 at 3:18 pm

This came out in a chat yesterday.

Leftovers of a past life are better left over.

I love myself :)

Sigaret

In Kavyaanjali on June 26, 2008 at 7:23 am

Fir dhoop ki chhav hai.
Mera paraya chehra,
Aankho ke kaale ghere,
Mere chalte andhere.

Saanjh dhali fir yuhin,
Chhod gaye mujhe,
Purab mein lambe ho hokar,
Khud me mil kar, kho kar.

Ab raat aayi hai,
Tanhai si kandho pe hai,
Kash bhar zindagi ki bhent,
Bas ek aakhri sigaret.

Sigaret

In Kavyaanjali on June 26, 2008 at 7:23 am

Fir dhoop ki chhav hai.
Mera paraya chehra,
Aankho ke kaale ghere,
Mere chalte andhere.

Saanjh dhali fir yuhin,
Chhod gaye mujhe,
Purab mein lambe ho hokar,
Khud me mil kar, kho kar.

Ab raat aayi hai,
Tanhai si kandho pe hai,
Kash bhar zindagi ki bhent,
Bas ek aakhri sigaret.

‘Frust’ Aid!

In Out of focus on June 25, 2008 at 1:27 am

Photo Credit: Self
Loc:En route Joshi Math, Uttaranchal

What you shouldn’t do while tuning a guitar!

In Aadhi Haqeeqat Aadha fasaana, Booze! on June 23, 2008 at 6:46 pm

1. Don’t pick your nose.
2. And definitely do NOT think about her.

The G string (:P) of my guitar broke/snapped as a result of over tightening. I don’t have a spare nor do I have money to go buy one. So basically I am one music-less guy right now. Anyway, here’s my toast to the fingers’ itch. May you live on forever. And to ‘G‘, rest in peace.
Amen.

Mischances

In Booze!, Peeling Onions! on June 22, 2008 at 6:37 am

Slept halfway through the story,
Where’ve you been?
Mind filling me in?

Left home long ago,
A bag in my hand,
I drift akin to sand.

Her picture in my wallet,
I look and sigh,
No kisses, No goodbye,

Guitar has lost the music,
Lost Plectrum, broken strings,
the silence stings.

Blowing my veins,
Syringes of false pretenses,
missed chances, mischances

Slept halfway through the story,
Where’ve you been?
Mind filling me in?

Jawaab

In Nazm-o-Ghazal on June 21, 2008 at 9:08 am

Aab hai aankhen meri aur miri aankhen aab nahin,
Aalam-e-aab hai huzoor pyaale me mere aab nahin.

Yoon barqzada ho kar na dekh aalam-taab ko,
Sarapa tu hi hai wahaan tere hone ka saraab nahin

Fir bik gaya beabroo hokar sare-bazaar,
Goya ki mujhe koi sharm-o-haya koi hijaab nahin.

Nahi aaya qasid tera khat lekar aaj bhi,
Aur ab haal-e-jaana ko dil bhi mera betaab nahin.

Roonuma hokar roo-ba-roo ho rahe ho humse ‘ghafil’
Aur kahte ho ki is sawaal ka koi jawaab nahin?

Maayne:

Aalam-e-aab: A place with lot of water; condition of being drunk
Barqzada: Struck by lightening
Aalam-Tab: One who lightens the whole world
Sarapa: From toe to head; completely
Qasid: Postman
Roonuma: One who shows the face

“Aankhen aab hona” can have two meanings – sparkling eyes/crying eyes

Aapni prochondo mahan Debi!

In Aadhi Haqeeqat Aadha fasaana, Kissa-go on June 21, 2008 at 1:46 am

Statutory Warning: This post is a WOOF!

There are those days when your friend feels off and you try to cheer him or her up. So you would say kind words, reassure them that they will succeed, tell them how you believe in them and that they are your best friend. And when everything fails you might suggest a small outing. It so happened that my friend and bangla mentor Manjish was having a rough day. So I tried to cheer him up and as a final resort we decided to go to Rave Moti and fool around. And fool around we did:

After roaming around here and there in the big mall we finally set down to eat. The eatery at Rave Moti has several shops with a huge floor space meant only for sitting down on chairs and filling up your belly. Several people were eating there. We sat down and started filling up when behind Manjish I saw this smoking hot babe eating noodles. I pointed out to Manjish.

“Where?”
“Behind you, you processor ass!”

This girl was sitting, as it would happen, with sadde Sardarji. Why is it that surds end up with all the hot girls? Anyway, since I am learning bangla these days I asked Manjish to teach me to say:

You are looking very beautiful.

“It’s harmless dude. Tell me how do I say that in bangla.”
“But why now?”
“Look I know I am not going to that girl and saying this in any language comprehensible to her in front of sadde daarji. One wrong step and I die in hell.”
“Buy why do you need to tell her?”
“Beauty should be appreciated.”
“Dude, I am in no mood of getting killed today.”
“Don’t worry. I can pull this off in bangla. They won’t know a thing. They will think I am this lunatic mumbling stuff out loud.”
“Man, I will tell you the translation but promise me you won’t make a step till I am at a safe distance.”
“Okay.”

So armed with this new knowledge I make my move. I move past the girl and speak out loud:

Tumi khoob bhalo lagcho.

I take a few steps forward, smiling in triumph when:

Kee?”

What the hell? I turn around and find myself face to face with the girl.

“Uh-oh. “
Ki bolchen? Kake bolchen? Kaino bolchen? Aapni ke?

The Chick turned out to be bengali! What were the odds of those? And what she said translates to:

What are you saying? Who are you talking to? Why are you talking? Who the hell are you?

There are times when you want to vanish in thin air, or want the lightening to strike you so that it all ends. It was one of those times. But it seems that I am made for such moments. Because as I explained the entire thing to her, I couldn’t help but notice her to be smiling slightly. Meanwhile pappeji who hailed from the Just friend lounge couldn’t make out what just happened.

“Hey I meant well. Was just a joke. No, I mean you ARE beautiful but this was a joke.”
“It’s fine. We are cool.”
“He he he. Fine. So how about we eat ice creams?”
“Don’t push it smart ass.”

Bullet exit! EOF

PS: Another… hic… fictini here dude! Hicc… Thanks!

Kangaali :(

In Peeling Onions! on June 19, 2008 at 10:49 pm

It’s been over two weeks now. I am broke! Complete muflisi mein ji rahe hai hum ‘ghafil.‘ I do not have a penny in my wallet. All I have is some old bill from the time I was in office along with some photos. My bank account has 36 bucks. They have always been there, since time immemorial and what not. If only ATMs could dispense fivers. With a net worth of less than $1, not accounting for the trash in my room, what am I supposed to do?

I wasn’t so broke till yesterday. I had two bucks in my wallet when my friend Tushar Kant knocked on the door and asked for my prized possession for getting his chappals repaired. I gave him the coins with heavy heart, not to mention my own chappals too. I am still hoping he will pay up.

When I went to canteen today I was told that the accounts are closing from June 19, 2008 onwards, which is, today. So I bought supplies for the next two weeks. God save the great Hall 1 canteen wallah without whom I would have been on the streets months earlier. But now that option is also gone. The only option left now is to go into the vasooli mode and ask the udharilaals to pay up my bucks and seeing that one of them is some 120 kilos vasooli is not so easy. But the kind of poverty that is usually associated with the members of the graduating batch and their friends, a heist is not completely out of the question. And given that I have the experience of almost all the George Clooney movies almost all of which are about some heist or treasure hunt, I think I will be able to pull it off. Otherwise there’s only one option left now -

Bhagwan ke naam pe :P

Hoo Hooba,
Rum Chum

PS: Tushar did return the chap-pal!

Missed calls

In Peeling Onions! on June 18, 2008 at 10:27 pm

\begin{hopeless}

Every time I get a missed call from a number which is not on my contact list (so basically it really is a number and not a name on the phone), I log on to Information Madness to check where it came from. I so wish it were from there.

But the thing is that it shows only the state of the caller when it’s a cell number. And only the city when we have a land line calling the cell.

The sad part is, the only way to find out is to call them back or to attend the call the next time and that is when the illusion ends. That is when it strikes me that I have to outgrow the pipe dreams and move on.

I don’t want to move on. I pretend to move on when I am only walking in circles. I don’t think I want the illusion to end. May be that’s the reason I don’t attend calls from unknown numbers. May be I want the dream to go on. Don’t you?

\end

\begin {Addendum}

I now plan to have a sweetheart in every state of the country so that I can miss all the calls I receive :)
You tend to get such ideas after chatting with peelu!

\end

Skateboard Chronicles – 1

In Aadhi Haqeeqat Aadha fasaana on June 18, 2008 at 9:12 am

There was a boy who weighed 91 kilo. Enter JEE results and he went to IITK. He was told this : “You walk in as a boy, you walk out as a man.” But for him the story turned out to be different. He walked in as an elephant and is now a chopstick. For him it was the Weight of 69 ( 71 actually ).

Now this boy thought of getting cool. Cool as in kept-in-Kelvinator-the-coolest-one Kewl. So he got a skateboard on his 19th birthday. He brought it to the campus with him and one fine morning he decided to try the skateboard. The skateboard was taken to the temple at MT. The pundit put holy symbols and water on skateboard and the boy’s forehead. Nariyal badhara gaya. And with the usual Rs. 5 daan the ritual ended. The boy took the skateboard to the road beside the airstrip and went on his skating spree.

For about an hour he tried and tried but the skateboard refused to move. It was so unmoving that for once I wanted to name this post : The little skateboard that wouldn’t. Then somehow a new way striked the boy’s mind. He restarted the attempt and for about a split second the strategy seemed to work. The board moved and so did the boy but it was only that the board moved sans the boy who instead fell down and rolled on the road; better than the board. Our kewl dude stood up with strained wrist and bruised palm. But the dude had the solution. He took out iodex spray from the side pocket, applied it and started again. What determination!!

The boy took a breather, had some pushups and jumps and retrieved the board from the grassy vicinity where some sonovabitch snake was trying to use it. The second attempt began and…ended almost at the same time. The skateboard remained where it was and the boy was thrown backward. The rest as they say is history and I will take the troubles to tell you about that later.

silly rhymes,

sk8erboy

PS: This one first appeared here.

The tea song!

In Booze! on June 17, 2008 at 1:48 pm

And finally here it is my tea lovers:

Junkies of a brew sublime,
Any place and any time.
Stir it up with big smile,
It’s kept me up all this while.

Gimme my mug of ol’ sunshine,
Rest of the day will just be fine.
You know just how it should be,
You know it’s not just the tea.

Wah Taaj!

PS: First line is from the girl who drew it all – Prabha :) or should I say brew it all? Kribbit…kribbit kribbit grr grr

Dammit!

In Snippets on June 16, 2008 at 4:34 pm

Sid (on the verge of leaking…from eyes): Dude! She broke my heart…
Jolly: Bad. Eh? I always thought she was such a case man. You shouldn’t have gotten into her at all.
Sid (certainly troubled with bad plumbing now): Don’t you dare call her a case!

Jolly: What man! She is a merciless biatch!
Sid: Boo Hoo are you right head case! Man, I thought it was going to be fine.
Jolly: Look at the bright side though
Sid: Yeah? And what’s that wise guy?
Jolly: She broke your heart and guess what – You got two hearts now man. What up!
Sid: Argghh!
Jolly: Come to think of it man, two hearts make you the case!
Sid: Dammit! Bio-tech guys!

Be here now

In Booze! on June 16, 2008 at 3:13 am

Paper napkins need a rest,
Don’t worry you did your best.
Look outside, it’s bright,
time to set it all right.
You’ve been sad till now,
Open up to ongoing wow!

Be here now X3

Skip a step or two,
Take that leap for you.
No cure for broken heart,
But life’s a bit too short.
You’ve been afraid till now,
Open up to ongoing wow!

Be here now X3

Old albums and souvenirs,
six-string, ash-tray and beers.
Don’t worry this time won’t last,
Forget, forgive forsake the past.
You’ve been asking till now,
The ongoing wow…
…is here right now!

Be here now X6

Adieu adieu Radley Boo
(Thanks Saumya)

Abigail

In Booze! on June 15, 2008 at 11:24 pm

Walking with the shadows again,
I wish it were dark and rain,
All alone, no one to fail,
Goodbye Goodbye Abigail.

I know we won’t have this chance,
Don’t turn around to see me once,
Last goodbye, before the ships sail,
Goodbye Goodbye Abigail.

Handmade paper, stamp and glue,
And although I’m that inky blue.
Forget me, don’t send me mail,
Goodbye Goodbye Abigail.

Aami tomake bhalo bashi!

In Booze! on May 29, 2008 at 2:21 pm

Naumoshkaar,

Yes!!! I am learning to speak Bengali. My mentor his holiness shri shri 1008 Manjish Pal, my wingmate and friend was certain that some Bengali chick was the cause behind this. I had to convince him that I was no chick magnet (I am not) and one week letter I am now eating pantua instead of Gulab Jamun, Korai shooti instead of Peas, and shaving Gonp off my face instead of moustache.

Learning a new language is a beautiful experience. You tend to find similarities and differences and they tend to stick with you. In Bengali, they have this weird type of pronunciation for ‘au’ sound. It sounds so sweet, just like raushaugulla :)

Any way, I am now past common colors, food items, numbers, greetings et cetera. Hopefully Shri Shri Manjish Prabhu will now take me on advance discourses in aamar tomar bongla. Who knows, I might end up with a bengali chick after all

Till then,
Onion

Oh no!

In Aadhi Haqeeqat Aadha fasaana, Snippets on May 29, 2008 at 3:27 am

Dear Diary

It’s 2:15 in the morning and she happens to be online on gtalk with lights blazing green. So I think of buzzing.

“Awake?”
“Fancy a walk?’ et cetera.

I type in ‘awake?’ and then start thinking about it. I think for about a minute about pressing the enter key but something tells me I shouldn’t. So I get back to writing the Proposal for a new idea. Then after a few minutes I again see the green dot. Should I buzz? Ask her for a walk? Tell her what I think? So I type in ‘awake?’ again and am just about to press the enter button when suddenly a friend buzzes me sending some files that I needed. I thank him and curse him and get back to pressing enter. Something tells me I shouldn’t. I press escape instead.

Around 2:30 I think about it again. Three times in last 15 minutes. It’s going the old way again, something I fear. Something I thought would never happen again. I click on the name in the list. I think about brushing my teeth. Had a lot of onions in dinner. And anyway, I brush my teeth at night nowadays (but that should have been done at around 11). I would buzz her after I brush my teeth, I think. It’s foolish I know. At this point she might as well go offline any moment. But as if that forbidding voice inside me took me to the sink in the bathroom, I start brushing. I come back at around 2:40 am. I type in ‘awake?’ and am about to press enter. That voice inside my head grows stronger and so does the urge to talk to her. My battle continues when suddenly…she goes idle!

It’s not good to buzz a girl so late at night when she might have retired to bed already. I think. And I get back to that proposal I was writing.

MORAL: Don’t wait. Just do it if you think you are right. The voices in head are bullshit. It’s the voice of the heart which counts.

Yours,

Sid

PS: Just a minute after this post, she went green again. :)

Fursat

In Nazm-o-Ghazal on April 16, 2008 at 1:13 pm

Dila batana jo kabhi bikhar jaane ki zurrat ho,
Chalenge ruyat-e-jaana ko jo kabhi aarzoo-e-kurbat ho.

Ae dilsitaan Ji lete hum paradil hone par bhi,
Kya kare tab ki jab dil hi dil se rukhsat ho.

Jumaam hota hai eena-e-chashm yaad me tiri,
chhalak jaata hai sagar jo kahi jumbish-o-harkat ho.

Dilshaad the hum bhi yoon pamaal-e-gham na the,
Kya kare ki jab kisi dilzaar se muhabbat ho.

Sirhaane aakar jaga dena hume neend se ‘ghafil’
mire khwaabon me aane se jab tumhe fursat ho.

Bahane

In Nazm-o-Ghazal on April 14, 2008 at 10:20 pm

Aaye the tere deedaar ko peene ke bahane,
Dhoondhe hai dil kuche pe tire jeene ke bahane.

Asar kuchh aisa hai barq-e-beamaan ka,
Likh baithe hai shayar alif, seene ke bahane.

Maye-khwaar ban baitha hain pyaar me ‘ghafil’
Utha laata hai meena, eene ke bahane.

Fooling the radar

In Booze! on April 12, 2008 at 7:04 pm

Mama I raised the bar,
I fooled the ray-yay-daa-are.
Couldn’t find that somebody called me,
Am a lost boat in the vast blue sea.

She asked: “Are you anywhere?”
“Yeah babe I am almost there.”
Sniffed life to come this far,
Mama I fooled the radar.

Fast chorus:

Hey hey Mary Jane I blew my vein
I walked in the sky, fucking insane,
You get me high every time you sigh,
I know it’s late, can’t say goodbye.

Normal:
Am searching me in the but,
I have a feeling in my gut.
Saw me ‘morrow, will again yesterday
Just need to buy some belief at the ‘bay.’

She said: “Not any more”
I was sunk on the shore.
They say she leaves a scar,
Not on me, I fooled the radar.

I love LinkedIn!

In Uncategorized on April 11, 2008 at 1:58 am

Hullo,
Just came back from MT and finished adding a few more alumni on my LinkedIn network. LinkedIn rocks. I mean it. I hade made my profile a few days back but I updated it yesterday and started adding IITK junta. Last year, I had initiated a program called the Gymkhana Documentation Program wherein we were supposed to compile lists of all the past General Secretaries of Students’ Gymkhana complete with addresses and other information. We could complete the names part but addresses to most of these elites eluded us. To my pleasant surprise, I found many of them on LinkedIn yesterday and that’s when I became a fan.

You can create a darn good profile, fill up your details (education, goals, past experiences, positions held, current work) and add other people on to your network. One can ask questions, answer queries, receive business offers or just socialize. I like the professional projection of the entire networking concept, way better than Orkut (but then both serve different purposes). It also makes applying for jobs, schols, interns very easy. Just provide the link to your LinkedIn profile and stay cool!

Do make your profile,

Onion.

My LinkedIn profile bazza!

April fool!

In Booze!, Peeling Onions! on March 31, 2008 at 10:35 pm

Finally I have something to write and mind you this is a real incident.

So on April 1, 2008 at around 3:11 am I receive a call from some number. I won’t give it away here for reasons given later but suffice to say that it had a 9936 prefix. So this call is from a girl who is distressed and she says, ” Aap kyun mujhe pareshaan kar rahe hai baar baar message aur phone karke. Me aapse baat nahi karna chahti. Mere bhaiya ko pata lag gaya to mera to jo hona hai hoga par aap ko bhi…aapko bhi kuchh ho jayega (and some more stuff I don’t remember).”

While this girl is speaking this I am thinkin – Finally some bandi called me. I am trying to talk to her but she continues speaking (for reasons I came to know later) without listening to me. So while she is speaking the aforementioned statement:

Me: Madam kaun ho ap. Raat me 3 baje koi aur mila nahi aapko (But she continues) Kaun ho yaar…pehle pareshaan karne to do fir bhai se baat karvaana.

Her brother approaches now. I can hear his voice on the cell. He is saying something like: “Kaun hai?”

She: Bhaiya yeh lo aap baat karo

Biraadar: Kaun hai be tu. Kyun pareshaan kar raha hai. Teri…tera number to mil hi gaya hai mujhe.

Me: Achha tareeka hai raat me 3 baje April fool banane ka.

Biraadar (ignores the April fool comment for reasons I came to know later): Abe tera number mil gaya hai mujhe. Naam kya hai tera?

Me: Naam jaan ke kya karoge. Behen ke shaadi ke card pe chhapega tab padh lena.

Biraadar: Naam to tera nikalva hi loonga me ab.
Me: Theek hai nikalva lena.

And the line goes dead. I am sitting on my chair thinking whether I should laugh on this or be worried. Then I think…maa chudaaye…April 1 hai and somebody tried to get the better of me. But I am still worried now as I write this. If I am found wounded or dead a few days from now then this might be the Biraadar cracking down on me and I don’t know what to do about this. I am not disclosing the number here because I don’t want that girl in trouble.

Cya if I live through this,
Onion

476488 :P

Italicized version can be considered my simple attempt at April fool.  Beware of such callers though. The one that I received was a prerecorded clip and hence there was no reaction to what I was speaking to them. But you can get a call from real pranksters. Don’t lose it…give the pranksters some space :) Enjoy the April Fools’ Day.

So long,
Onion

A new post

In Uncategorized on March 29, 2008 at 7:25 am

And I am back. Woo hoo hoo hoo! Had a very good March break. Visited a couple of good places and did a lot of fun activity.
Washed away my sins (or so they say) and started on new ones. And then I went back home. Mom says there are some good behavioral changes in me (hee hee hee).

Now I am back to Cawnpore and after a four day long holiday hangover I have started on the journey again. A brand new poem/song will be on the blog soon. I don’t know how to play any musical instrument so I will have to bribe Chaachi or molest Satti to get the work done.

The status sheet for today is this:

Latest Nick: Nick the greek
Latest Wonder: Kale working all alone on a term project
Latest Fiasco: ME 624 Mid Sem submission
Latest Crush: girlshapedlovedrug :)
Latest Book: Autobiography of a Yogi (read the hindi version about five years ago but my spiritual side is high currently)
Latest Movie: Run, Fat Boy Run (Friends Cast David Schimmer’s Directorial Debut)
Latest Blog: Love, Hate, Love (Chaachi’s)
Latest Band: Gillmor (Indie/Pop/Blues – Check out their myspace. Ryan Gillmor rocks)
Latest Song(s): Hey!(Gillmor)/girlshapedlovedrug (Gomez)/Waiting so long (Eddie Money)
Anyway…bye for now.

EOF

In Uncategorized on March 13, 2008 at 11:24 am

Old one’s been shoved in the abyss.
EOF

About a girl

In Aadhi Haqeeqat Aadha fasaana, The chocolate diaries on March 12, 2008 at 8:50 pm

Dear diary,

I met her today and I feel like a very different person. It’s amazing how mere thought of a girl can change a guy. I know she won’t be around my room but I am cleaning it, just because I want to feel good before meeting her, in my mind and my heart. I throw away the waste from my room, change the bed sheet and sweep the floor with the long forgotten broom retrieved from below the bed. The way a girl can change you, the enormous power that she has on you, sometimes even without her knowing it, is something that has made me respect girls. They are the most amazing creation of nature.

When we meet she asks me about the favorite moment in life and I try to remember the favorite moment. I muster all the memories – to no avail. In her presence my past became a blank slate. It was as if there was no past. Only this moment existed. What else can I answer? It was this moment. So I am with her and the past doesn’t matter, I can’t think of the future and all that is there is the moment itself and the gleam of her face.

But she becomes uneasy, may be a bit bored and I become conscious of that. And I feel guilty. May be I am not that kind of a guy who can make small talk or something that a girl might like, may be because I haven’t done it before or may be because she is around. I don’t know what to talk to her because I would think of something and words will come and then I would look at her and forget them. Probably silence is good. Or I would blurt something out without thinking because I can’t think in her presence. All I can do is look at her and be amazed.

She disarms me, completely. Given a chance, I would like to make her happy, worry about her and care for her. I would like to do all this, forever.

Yours,
Sid

Emporium of belief

In Booze! on March 11, 2008 at 8:58 am

Search for pearls stuck at reef
Mounted on that desert seif
Plastic lives salable belief
Welcome to emporium of belief.

Alone she labors on my fief,
yet that tree bears no leaf.
Time knocked a time or two,
Was busy with my patch of rue.

Those tears have long dried,
long time since smiles cried.
They settled for solar beads,
Aftermath of sown seeds.

No sleep for plastic eyes,
Weary of long good byes,
Happy with dream worth of kief,
bought at that emporium of belief…

…we sell false relief.
Plastic dreams in plastic sheaf,
Welcome…to emporium of belief.

Why you should not philosophize in front of her.

In Snippets on February 10, 2008 at 10:20 am

Sid and Shef have had a discussion about things and Sid was suggesting something to Shef.

Sid: You should do that. I know it is a selfish philosophy because it’s mine and I am a selfish guy. But then I think it is right. It works for me.

Shef: If you are a selfish guy, why are you telling me all this? What do you care?

Sid: Oh! I am a selfish guy. I am telling this to you because we are one and the same person. You and me are not two different individuals, we are the same person. So when I am telling you this, I am basically telling myself this thing.

Shef: I don’t get it. We are one person?

Sid: It’s like Yin and Yang.

Shef: Wow! We complete each other…

Sid: Okay…wrong analogy, Before you get all emotional, we don’t complete each other. We are each other.

Shef: Huh! If we are the same person…to phir hum pyaar kis se karte hai?

Sid: Eh?

Isliye bandiyon ke saamen zyaada philosophy mat jhaada karo :P