Risus Sardonicus

The Promised land

2011-01-09T12:28:00.000+05:30

Closing his eyes after the sip of wine, he reflects on what his life had been. Tumultous and torturous. His life, flashes in scenes. The emotional blackmail tobecome a doctor, the drunken rants of his father cursing his pudgy demeanour, secretly crying while his parents fought and he could never forget how his father went on and on about not doing anything in life. He held out for so long but when would it all stop. Dangerous thoughts of ways to finish of his father or perhaps escaping the madness by leaving his earthly abode to seek heavenly peace. 'Just block out whatever your father says', he was reminded often by his mother. The same woman, who in her sixty years shared the endless nagging and thrifty conduct of her husband. 'Concentrate on your studies and they shall lead you out of here', she said. So what could he do except continue to study and cram vast details of the human body or contraindications of medications. Stuff which he didnt care for. Even the suffering patient, would look earnestly into his eyes and find no solace, like a defeated gladiator waiting to meet his match. His eyes open to the blating of the television. He walks towards he window, looking out towards the horizon. Someday I shall be free of all this. If only they didnt happen in the first place. 'Daddy, daddy', his little girl runs to hug him. He smiles. It doesnt seem that bad after all.

The Writer

2011-01-01T15:23:00.002+05:30

Scrunched up papers fill the room, another bounces of the others and rolls to reach back to him instead. Words, having only half lives, soon find themselves struck and evicted along with countless others, struggling to hang on to his masterpiece. My sire is far too young blooded. Ruled by passion rather than experience. But who is to decide where a character has its origins from. Their attributes may arise from the personal pages of the authors life or from distressed neurons who wee themselves into shameful brilliance.

In the room, the bulbs glow in their forty watt glory, insects dance around it and when its time to kiss, they burn. The florid wallapaper holds on for dear life and the infirm floor creaks its aches and pains. An apple half eaten, bronzes away on the wooden table. The novel has converted him into a manic. His stomach filled with occasional sips of wine and his mind, tossing and turning in its rugose sheets. I pray for the day to come soon when the words THE END are written, for he shall then back return to normal.

*Inspired by Ellie Goulding's The Writer

Unfaithful

2010-12-20T07:09:00.003+05:30

Standing in front of the mirror, she places back the fallen strap.

Eyes kohl lined and lips rouged, a wink, a smile ensues

Hair left open, earrings dangle

She heads out, scented and stilletoed

Pulling out the note, a number neatly penned

She looks around, the passers by stare

Typing the numbers in, a flick of the hair

'Hello, I'm coming over ....'

Her fingers trace the verse on her arm

Love bears all things, believes all things,

hopes all things, endures all things.

Pushing the sheets away, her lover unperturbed

As she heads to her car, she sees him

His face revulsed, dignity defiled

He walks away and she runs after

Her life would never be the same

The fight was bitter, screams deafening

But all that was done was done

Typing the numbers in, a tear swept

'Hello, I'm coming over....'

P.S I read this poem again and again to the starting 1:06s of the video Unfaithful by Rihanna and would be worth the experience, if you did too. This was also inspired by the video and lyrics of the same. Also along similar lines L'agent Provocateur

Medicated Lyrics

2010-11-17T12:55:00.034+05:30

Being a medical student entails one to probably spend chunks of time reading up on books which I have a feeling were inspiration for the concept of platform shoes in terms of size and thickness. Anyways this tedious procedure is what often led me to procrastinate about a whole lot of unimportant stuff and the voids filled in with music. So here's a few lyrics, modified ofcourse to suit whatever situation (and in my case which clinical posting) along with phrases you'd hear in the hospital.

P.S Do listen to the song while reading the lyrics. I promise you Medicine would not be the same again. : )

♫ Total eclipse of the Heart - Bonnie Tyler feat Meatloaf

L Ward, every now and then nothing is ever done and the sisters sit around, MICU, every now and then I get a lil bit tired of listenin to the sound of machines, Dept office, Every now n then I get a lil bit nervous that the staff is still sittin inside, Turn around, Every now and then I get a lil bit terrified & then I see the look in ur eyes,Kale gotha, Intern,Whose gonna type pending summaries, Kale gotha, Intern,every now n then I get royally screwed

*Kale gotha - A Konkani phrase which literally translates to 'what you know' or in proper English as Did you know?

♫ Thong song - Sisqo

Ooh dat mets so scandalous And ya know another T cell couldnt handle it See ya positioning that laser like who's da ish With a look in ya eye so precise-ish It likes to dance at all the hip hop spots And on MRI it highlights hot spots Not just brain it likes the blood Cuz she was livin la vida loca.

♫ Rude boy - Rihanna

Wat u know, intern can u fill the card? Wat u know, intern is the dressing done? Take it, take it, intern, intern Take it, take it, blood forms, bt ct Tonight Imma gonna complain to da incharge Tonight I want all case sheets completed Tonight I want all reports collected Giddy up, giddy up, giddy up baba

* BT- Bleeding time

CT - Clotting time

♫ Dynamite - Taio Cruz

I came to Kudla, kudla, kudla, kudla Roads I abhor Cos Ive got plans, plans, plans, plans Mallus wearing all their favourite brands, brands, brands, brands Give me sterile gloves for both my hands, hands, hands, hands Da, Da Cos it goes on & on & on And it goes on & on & on Aouda I put my finger in peoples bum sometimes Saying AYYO Bidi loosu I wanna celebrate and live my life Kale gotha Enchina Saavu

* Kudla - the tulu word for Mangalore, a south Indian city in Karnataka
   Mallus - a term used for malayalees or people from Kerala
   Da - A Malayalee word used to gather attention
   Aouda - Yes in Kannada
   Bidi loosu - an instruction to the patient to let go in Kannada

Enchina Saavu - I think it means what the hell in Tulu

♫ DJ got us falling in love again - Usher

So we back in Mullerkad Get tat bodies rockin from side to side Now tat de week is done I feel like a zombie gone back to strife BP's up n suddenly we all got our tondre enus No control of my body Ain't I seen u before? I think I remember those eyes,eyes,eyes Cos baby tonite the Doctor got us takin pills again So Depin, depin like its the last last night of ur life, gonna get u rite

* Mullerkad - a Peripheral health centre in Mangalore
Tondre enus - What seems to be the problem? in Kannada
Depin - Nifedipine, an anti-anginal & anti-hypertensive drug

♫ Papparazi - Lady Gaga

We r ENT's We'r co-comin out Got my flash on its true Need tat throat swab frm u It's so diagnostical We'd be so fantastical Lido Betadine Grommet n FESS Nt sure wat it means But dis polyp of urs Its comes wit a price Ready fr those flashing lights Cos u know tat baby I I'm ur operating attendee I'll dissect u until anasthesia lets me septo rhino plasty Baby there’s no other superstar U know that ill be Kama-Kamikazi

♫ Firework - Katy Perry

Do u ever feel like suicide/driftin thru PG books/wonderin why I did MBBS again/Do u ever feel,feel so overweight/like a shawarma roll/1 more kilo,hard to breath again/Do u ever feel already buried deep/6 feet under scream/But noone seems to hear a thing/Do u know tat there's still a chance for u/Cos there's COMEDK too/U jus gotta do an all night/N pls dont whine/Jus own the night/Like a nerd on a high/Cos baby you're an exam goer/Come on show'em wat ur worth/Make 'em go 'AH AH AH'/As u rush to color the ?right answer

♫Deck the halls (sung to the tune of a whiney exam goer during Christmas time)

Deck the halls with CCTV's fa la la la, la la la la la / Tis the season to write out stories fa la la la la, la la la la / Groan your frustration all together Fa la la la la, la la la la / Down with dreaded exams forever fa la la la la, la la la la

♫ Last Christmas - Wham!

Last Christmas I gave you a heart, but the very next day CMI (cell mediated immunity) rejected it away, Now on some inhibitors, Rituximab n Prednisolone, Next year we tried a liver, but the very next day, LFTs went disarray, Now on Tacrolimus and Mycophenolic acid,Once bitten and twice shy, I keep my distance but you still catch my eye,Tell me baby do you recognise me?Well it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me

And finally the best one I've done till date

♫ Waka Waka - Shakira

Your a good intern, choosing your offdays, dress the wound up and check reports off n back in the opd,you're in the frontline,everyone's watching, you know it's serious, gonna get jacked, this isnt over, the pressure is on,you feel it, you've got it all, Believe it,When u fall get up,Oh oh, And if u fall get up,Eh Eh,Kale gotha,What you know,Cos this is Mullerica, Kale gotha wat you know, biki biki eh eh kale gotha, wat u know this time for mullerica

* Biki - Kannada for push, most often used to instruct the mother to push while in labour.

Degenerate

2010-09-20T19:06:00.003+05:30

He lies on the floor. His jute mat with its frayed ends being munched away slowly by the rats that came to visit him. He moans lowly to drive them away but they don’t care and take him for the entertainment at their restaurant, squeaking their appreciation. He's too worn out to bother shooing them away. His hand hurts and every square inch is littered with blisters filled with fluid like puddles on a brick road. He rolls side to side scaring away his dinner guests and rests again for a while. The hospital has been very busy lately with the rains bringing along with its showers, patients by the truck load to St. Mary's.

The ward maid walks among them triaging the various inmates to see whether some have inadvertently succumbed to deaths call. She signals for the ward boys and they come, green masked, stretcher in hand to pick up the unlucky remains. He stirs to let her know he's alive. She smiles for a micro-second and she’s off to scan the remainder. Defeated he looks at his hands again, enclosed pools waiting to be explode. But he knows better now not to pick them, for the previous time it stung so bad that they had to prick him with countless injections so he preferred his body did the job for him and weathered them slowly away.

From silence to crescendo, the rain arrives again. He makes another fruitless effort to gather up courage to cry for help, but his voice like smoke easily gets lost in the madness of the crowd. Pain like a thief attacks him swiftly causing him to whimper and cringe. He lets out a cough. Drops of red spurt on the patterned tiles, the sight of which scares him. His time is up. He tries to breathe again but it gets harder. His heart starts beating frantically almost forcing him to make another attempt. With a last labored breath, he succumbs, into the hands of his heavenly father. "Acha isko bhi le chalo. Mar gaya buddha.” his eulogy read.

Bollywood Dream

2010-07-21T19:52:00.000+05:30

"Saab kuch aur be lega?" the scraggily dressed village boy asks sniffing his snort back into their vacuous black holes. He signals with the flick of his dying Marlboro on the saucer, the flecks traversing the tea outlines whilst his eyes lie in wait for her. In she walks, her pony tails displacing the hot and humid Bombay air due to the inherent spring in her step. She's worn a white blouse with a polka dotted skirt. He smiles remembering the film Bobby. She must have gone to watch the premier. Her entry makes everyone stop their inane routines to stare at the local wonder. He scorns and they quickly cower away...

She orders a couple of samosas, meek food for the busy college going girl. 'I hope Raj notices me today in this outfit', she thinks to herself, waving the zzzzing flies away from her honeysuckle scented neck and bosom. The creaky fan turns and blows her hair and scent towards him as he heads to pay the bill. He inhales deeply, eyes closed and suddenly opens his eyes to have her staring at him. Those chocolate eyes melt his black coal heart and he says I LOVE YOU. Her eyes widen and then

she lets out a laugh all the while cupping her mouth in faint surprise.

Excuse me, she says and then with a flick of her black hair she's out the

door with her hot samosas wrapped in yesterdays news. Dejected he turns away, humiliated. The restaurant owner lets out a smirk which goes unnoticed. He shall have his revenge....

A pointless idea I had to get out of my head...

2010-07-08T17:38:00.002+05:30

In a country far far away, there were two groups of people who ruled the 3.29 million square metres of it. Of course a bigger chunk went to the group called Doctors and the rest was left to the Engineers. The partition was inevitable considering the country produced 440,000 doctors compared to the 350,000 engineers per annum.

The engineers though owning only a small portion did wonders to what was given unto them. Buildings erupted from the fecund ground, some daring to conquer the limits of the skies. Bridges, hover crafts and various other fancy equipments were built for both the surviving engineers and their families, some of whose wives were children of the Doctors. In order to keep up the traditional Edisonian and countless other scientists principles, colleges were built to impart knowledge about physical, chemical and other sciences. The only subject they didnt teach were Biological sciences.

On the other hand the Doctors were not very far behind. With money to spare, they employed the Lay man to build him the finest. They too, in order to save the Hippocratic way of life managed schools to teach the biological sciences. Knowing fully well this wasnt enough to prosper, they indeed had to find a way to leak out secrets of the Engineers. To resolve this, they offered to treat the old and the ailing of the Engineering lot. Falling for their offer, they readily agreed hence with each entry they were killed and countless information necessary for progress was extracted from their brains, precerved in formalin.

The Doctors even went as far as to genetically modify genes so as to make every child born as a naturally inclined doctor. But of course for everything there are defects and some of these genes mutated leading to some of them gaining only half the interest for medicine. It was these that the Engineers chose to be their wives/husbands knowing fully well that they too could make use of the knowledge of biological sciences to further their understanding on how to protect themselves against diseases and manage medical emergencies.

However after uniting the Engineer and the Half Doctor could neve return to either lands and hence they migrated to Limbo, where they built both computers and Xray machines, engineering and medical colleges and etcetra etcetra of all the things necessary for them to survive.

THE END

Story of a Loser

2010-06-09T19:44:00.001+05:30

He flicks the ash off the butt end careful not to drop any on his privates while he lets off a stream. Zipping up, he thinks over what a crappy day he had.
Heading to the living room which is pretty much a cramped match box, he sits on the wooden chair contemplating over the whitewashed table top.
While he ponders on, his eyes shift to a ball of play dough. He lets out a smile/smirk. Lifting up the orange goo, he pinches it in sweet rememberance of his childhood.
Moulding away corners, defects and smoothening edges he finally makes something hes proud off. He leaves it on the table for one final show.
"There, that should make my son proud of me". He smiles, staring at the photo of Martin looking on with his blue eyes, thumb in mouth and hand held by his mother.

The Biki amma and Swasha OBGY remix of Beautiful liar

2010-06-01T06:45:00.004+05:30

Ai, Ai, Ai

Nobody likes being sedated

Biki amma , Biki amma (oh)

Swasha, Swasha (hey)

She said I'm pregnant, his n'th child

I’ve done it places that you wouldn't wanna know about

She examined me, with kuskus n jelly, (yes) OBG dactor

Tell me how you manage all the children you delivered out

We'll never know

Why are we the ones who suffer

I have to let go

He won't be the one to cry

(Ay) Let's not use contraceptives

(Ay) Let's not practice safe sex

(Ay) It's not worth the drama

For the OBGY

(Oh) Can't we be ignorant about it (hah hah hah)

(Oh) It's not worth our time

(Oh) We cant live without him

Checkups jus to pass our time

I trusted him, look what he did to me, got me pregnant

I didn’t know about oc pills, how do they work doc?

I walked in on your love scene, labour room

You gave me xylocaine, hope nothing goes wrong

We'll never know when the pain and screaming's over

I have to let go

The baby is aaooout

(Ay) Let's not use contraceptives

(Ay) Let's not practice safe sex

(Ay) It's not worth the drama

For the OBGY

(Oh) Can't we ignore facts about it (hah hah hah

(Oh) It's not worth our time

(Oh) We cant live without him

Checkups jus to pass our time

Tell me how to advise you

When it's me who's ashamed,

And I wish I could free you

Of the hurt and the pain

But the answer is simple

He's the one to blame (hey)

(Ay) Biki amma, Biki amma

(Ay) Swasha, Swasha

(Oh) Biki amma, Biki amma

(Oh) Swasha, Swasha

(Ay) Let's jus do it again

(Ay) Let's not space our child

(Ay) It's not worth the drama

For the OBGY

(Oh) Can't we jus screw around it (hah hah hah)

(Oh) We’ll think about it some other time

(Oh) We cant live without him

Just a visit to OBGY

Yea i know it doesn't make sense but it was ringing in my head after I had recently seen the video and since I was in my OBG posting at the time, i jus had to edit the lyrics out... enjoy

*The song Beautiful Liar was originally written by Knowles, Amanda Ghost, Ian Dench, Mikkel S. Eriksen and Tor Erik Hermansen.

*Biki - kannada for Push

*Swasha - breathe

Voices in my head

2010-03-23T22:44:00.001+05:30

4 am - Eyes wide open, the sheep jump over fences. Parting the blanket I head towards the bathroom. Splash, the water droplets slide over my bumpy skin over hair follicles to finally land into the big wide ocean collected in the deep sink. Looking up, the mirror shows a person Im not sure is me. He looks skinny, some may even say emaciated. Outlines of orbital sockets and a strong jawline clearly marked. But what strikes me are his eyes. Darkness shadowing the blood spill. I turn away.

9am - I reach the hospital. Heading towards the Biometrics, I notice people staring, students, faculty, patients. Some greet me with the cursed Good morning Sir. The faculty laugh and smile as they walk away. Im sure they are all mocking me. Saying all sorts of stuff like my broken marriage, children long forsaken , property tiffs between brothers. A lavish buffet in waiting for their wagging tongues. Imbeciles them all.

I arrive at my office and place my coat on the chair. The climate will never be right to wear them even for official purposes. I sit there waiting and waiting. Seeing me idle, the voices come whispering poisonous nothings into my ears.

"Aren't you tired of this life? Day after day, you wake up like a bloody zombie and head over here to listen to peoples problems. Dont you have enough of your own?" says one of them. " Good thing your wife left you 'innit? She never really loved you, sleeping around with the neighbour boys or with her colleagues. She was a disgusting whore." "Oh common why fool yourself, it was you who drove away both your wife and sons with your addictions. Who can love a drunk man who beats his wife and abuses his kinds huh??"

A knock on the door brings me back. Its the nursing aid with a file at hand. Placing it on the table she leaves and I watch as her tight fitting dress accentuates her curves. Maybe...hmph I smirk.

The patient enters and his affect is cheerful. Too cheerful even. He talks excessively about things which make no sence. Some moron quack asked him to stop his meds. He might as well have told him to jump from the rooftop. I pull out my Montblanc, a gift from a good friend of mine and write out the prescription while explaining to them that he needs to take the pills for life and that Im the one who tells him when to stop and no one else.

Handing the prescription he holds my hand and kisses it in gratitude. I mutter a thankyou and head for the sink. One, two, three spurts of the soapy fluid and off starts the medically approved method of washing hands, purging every crease, every ridge and every depression. Turning the tap on, the water starts to flow, initially cold then hot. The heat scalds but I like that. I return to my seat, massaging my hands, now a rosy pink.

8 pm - After the long drive back home, the sofa invites me to sink in. Glass in hand I sip the delicious whisky, imported. To finish off this pathetic excuse of a day, I draw out my credit card and use it to dice the fine powder. Once done, a small puff is all it takes and Im off....

The Man who didnt Care

2010-03-01T19:20:00.001+05:30

He stood there blankly as they lowered the coffin. "From dust to dust", a single phrase from the Bible always made him smile but he didnt know why.

Middle of the lot, he was often ignored sometimes even forgotten. He's arrive at the dining table only to find people leaving it to wash their plates. "Go grab what's remaining Stuart" his mom would say. Tilting the pot for the last millie of soup,he'd clang it with the spoon hoping for somemore.

At school, he blended in. Standing in class, with arms stretched out, palms facing up. PHAT came the rubber scale to greet its waiting guest. He'd just stare at the lines. They were pointing upwards. A sign that good luck is sure to follow. And then he'd sit down, as if nothing ever happened.

College got out the best of him if thats what you could call it. He found similar people who just led their lives without a care. Their hair was jet black, long and fringed. Some even shot it with color. They dressed in black and met after school in each ones houses.

After getting good grades he joined Medicine. He'd heard they needed people who didnt care over there. Bodies laid out for dissection, he neatly carved out each muscle, vein, artery and nerve as the cadaver stood still basking in the scent of formalin.

Years passed, he became an oncologist. Day after day, he'd sit in his office seeing heads shamefully covered in caps and bandanas. Eyes, weary after the radiation and hearts, eagerly beating to hear that nothing was wrong. He'd council them, they cried. His eyes just looked on.

One day he got a call. His patient had died and was requested to be at the funeral. Dressed in black, the mother delivered the eulogy. Final prayers said they lowered the box. He turned to leave. Not a single tear or heartfelt emotion, nothing, as he walked on.

Dolls for girls and Coins for adults

2010-01-23T18:20:00.001+05:30

Light struggles to insinuate the forever under construction, traffic jammed, polluted city and yet the day has already begun in the metropolitan city within a developing country.

Placing her knapsack on the dusty concrete, she unties the knot securely fastened, a skill her mother had taught her before the countless days of bloody coughs drained her dry to the grave. The sack opened revealing a bright maroon cloth with white motifs shaped like eyes. She would often stare at it wating for it to blink back, which it did sometimes when she concentrated hard enough.

Now smoothening the cloth, she would place in descending order wooden dolls with limbs shaped like almonds, thread being both the skeleton and blood running through it. They were all dressed in mini versions of clothes worn by the local village people, all bright and inviting to the passerby's eyes. After the routine she would then wait. It was the season when tourist thronged the city for some festival or the other. A sure profit in the making.

Sure enough, tourists with bags as big as boulders with boisterous children in tow cross her and then rewind back thanks to the kids. Their eyes, tranced by the colorful wooden people. "I want that one, mommy!! Could I have it please??" After a short thought, she askes her " yeh kitna?" her hindi heavily accented and funny sounding to the little girl. "50 rupees, madam." "That seems like a bargain, theek hai".

The exchange takes place. Dolls from a girls hand to an adult and bills and coins from an adult to the child. Tucking the bills, she observes the coins. Simple, lifeless things same as her toys. But what game would she play with the coins, a simple flip or stack them into a tower. With her dolls, she could dress them and make them attend fancy parties or dance to hit numbers. But they dont pay for the food or clothes or shelter. No, they just go on leading parasitic lives.

Joie de Vivre....

Inamorata

2010-01-19T18:30:00.000+05:30

Stolen glances, always caught
Eyebrow raised
Her lips pout
And a smile soon appears.

Willowy wisps curled
Her nose ring twinkles
In the apricot evening.
Her cheeks, now blushed.

Nearing close
Her perfume inhaled.
Hands over mine,
Alternating his and her fingers.

Inspired by the hindi song Dil To baccha hai (my heart is still a child) from the movie Ishqiya

When dreams fall drop by drop, filling up on my eyes

2009-11-01T17:38:00.000+05:30

Curled up in the armchair, she watched as the raindrops raced each other on the icy glass. Closing her eyes, she hoped he was standing at the door, asking her if she was not coming to bed. But when she did open her eyes, she saw him, through the crack of the bedroom door, his left arm covering one half of his face,his back exposed, the light, highlighting his spine. He was all dreams and tranquility.

She smiled. But it was a sad smile. An expression one gives when the battle is lost and you know that you could never achieve ones perceived goal. But why settle for thoughts based on failure when you could always close your eyes and imagine the sweetest of thoughts, so diabetic, that a person would go into a coma, she thought to herself. And thats exactly what she did...

Damn it, she cursed. Her mental darkness was now, disturbed by the occasional lighting courtesy the chemical reaction taking place in the clouds, she tried hard to picture them being together but the polaroid just didnt click from her mental camera. Again dissatisfied, she switched on the tv and as fate would have it, all that were playing were romantic numbers. Switching it off, the channel disappeared into a vortex, taking with it, the romantic musical couple.

"What the heck, might as well", she said. Stepping out into the rain, she went around in circles, the cool wind studding her skin with glttery droplets. Its an amazing feeling, almost rejuvinating. As she continued to hop, jump, twirl in the cool monsoon rains, she constantly hoped he would be there. Drenched as he watched his lady love. A scene embedded in her head from all the Hindi movies she had been watching.

But he never came. Perfect love is only in the movies she reminded herself. Dejected she walked back into the house. As she headed towards the closet for a towel and a change of clothes,she turned to find him standing there. Albeit groggy eyed and dressed in boxers, but he was there. "You're all wet. Wanna catch a cold that badly,huh??" She smiled as she headed for the bathroom.

"I think I'm in love" she said to herself, closing the door behind her.

Gora Rani

2009-10-16T22:25:00.000+05:30

Please do watch the vdeo I've hyperlinked to both the text word Rani and Gora Rani so that the characters may spring to life.

The stories of kings and queens have never failed to allure the curious minded. What follows is a tale of love, recounted by those faithful to the Rani. A tale, to be told and retold. Its narration, never to cease. May it be made known to those who dwell in the sky, the earth, the netherworld and the re-incarnate.

The night was indeed auspicious as the pundit had predicted. Chandra, in all his glory was drifting across the night sky, the clouds parting upon hearing the sound of his advancing steed. The twenty seven Nakshatras twinkled above us in all their finery. This was indeed a night to celebrate. Musicians strummed away at their sitars and songs were sung from honey mouthed nightingales brought from various parts of the country. The whole palace was decorated in shades of ruby and gold in honor of the celebration.

Hearing the clinking of bangles and seeing shadows dance across the hall I followed it hoping it wasn’t a demon that had chanced upon this auspicious occasion. But as I neared, all I could hear were her delicate laugh and the sound of her payals tinkling in delight. The diyas on the wall only added to the beauty, that she’d already been. Twirling around, she showed her gown to the others. She was dressed as an English memsaab would on her wedding day. When our eyes met I realized that our Gora Rani had indeed been sent from above. Her blue eyes, shining brighter, in contrast, to her, pale skin….

Here I am rambling about the Rani without having given you a formal introduction about her. As I have mentioned before she was indeed a gift sent from above. Wrapped in warm clothing, she came to us floating in a basket woven out of reeds. The Maharani, who happened to be on her stroll across the palace grounds noticed the mysterious object floating upon the Lake Pichola, summoned her servants who fished it out and revealed to the Maharani, that it was in fact a baby and not just any ordinary baby but that of an Angrezi. This obviously had come as a shock to her but as she lifted the little angel in her arms, she found two big blue eyes like pools staring at her. Now the Maharani had been barren for a great many years and yearned for a seed to continue their legacy. She pleaded with her husband who refused to even consider the idea for who knew what the Angrez would do upon finding that we possessed one of their kind. But the Maharaja loved his wife dearly and to upset her was far worse than not having any children. He at last caved in to the Maharani’s adamancy but insisted that the baby be kept under total secrecy and not a word is to leave the Palace walls about the origins of their newly adopted daughter, whom they christened Sunayna, one with beautiful eyes.

Now the Maharani didn’t leave any page unturned in the lessons of spoiling her daughter but Sunayna grew into a beautiful girl, with her skin ever so pale, we often wondered, along with the royal physician, if she had any blood in her. She was trained in the various arts. She could sing beautifully and played the sitar ever so delightfully, I could sit hours listening to her. She was even trained by her father, the Maharana in the field of swords and archery, in case the need ever arose for her to defend her self. The years passed by quickly and the Gora Rani, a nickname she had heard some kids on the street call her, was now a woman. Upon hearing this the Kings of various kingdoms had arrived hoping for the hand of our Rani but she didn’t seem to like any as they were all interested in producing lines of Gora people with blue eyes instead of providing her with the one thing she longed for, love. One day, as the Rani was walking across the grounds, she noticed a man, mostly a prince, because of the way his horse was decorated, who had stopped for a drink of water from the lake. As he raised his hand to drink, he noticed her staring at him and you can imagine what a sight it would have been to see a pale blue eyed girl in the middle of a land surrounded by black eyes and brown skin. After that day the Rani made it a point to linger around the grounds in hope to see her prince again. And as sure as the sun rose in the east he did come, day after day to chance upon the Rani waiting for him.

The princess confided in me, that perhaps she was in love. Her nights having been spent on his thought. A smile lit her face, whenever she pictured his face. Holding my hand now we hurry down the stairs where she stands there waiting for her prince, who has come from afar. As he neared her, he raised her veil and like a gentle breeze she caressed his cheek with her own and gently slipped away. Her scent, lingering in the hallway. And thus concludes my story of Sunayna, the Gora Rani.

When Darkness met Light

2009-08-24T14:48:00.000+05:30

Darkness watches ‘neath the window sill
Curtains of chiffon and silk.
Roses in bloom, glasses clink.
Crystals dangling from their
Wrought iron branches.
And the band, begins to play.

One by one the couples line up
Curtsy and the dance begins.
There’s laughter heard
Amongst the gentlemen.
The ladies prattle amongst themselves
But his eyes are still searching.

Then all at once his roving eye stops
For there at the head of the stairs, she stands
Amidst the crowds gasps and awe
Light descends the stairs
To greet her father, with a kiss.
Darkness’ heart trembles.

After having mingled with the guests
And danced with the boys
She heads to the balcony
Their eyes meet as he waits for her
In a swift, she’s with him
His hand around her waist.

As they dance beneath
Cloudless climes and starry skies.
The moon, their only witness.
Love entwined them both.
And all shall remember that night
When Darkness met Light.

Inspired by She walks in Beauty by Lord Byron

Lipo-phile

2009-08-12T11:52:00.001+05:30

Loving you was kinda like... developing a taste for beer. Bitter at first, but it slowly grows on you, as you continue sipping the arctic beverage. Now when I see myself in the mirror, there is not even a trace of your love left. Your possessions, all been taken over. The loss of which I do not twist and turn in my bed wondering what it could have been. On the contrary I'm relieved it’s over between us.

As I seat myself on the floor I open the first album with Fond Memories written on it. The first picture, my mom holding a cocooned baby with love forming its aura around us. Flipping through I reach infancy. My, what a chubby baby was I. The heart and soul of all conversations be it with aunties, uncles, grandparents, and strangers. Yup, a true magnet which led to an incident between the servant and me. Feeling me up and undressing me. Closing the album, I smirk as it flashes again in its flowery script, Fond Memories.

School wasn't exactly un-eventful. With you by my side, the punches didn’t hurt that much during recess time. Neither did the kicks. I liked that I could hide you and take you with me in my banyan during swimming lessons in spite of the constant reprimands of the teacher, there was no separating us. I didn’t really have any friends but I’m happy you were there and that you would bring your friends along when I gorged on the doughnuts and candy.

I kept checking my weight. It’s turning into an obsession. The kilos just pile up leaving me looking like a humungous hulk though of the fat variety as opposed to the ripped variety. My t-shirts have been pre-stretched before I leave for school. All tightness relieved along the chest and waist and back. Guess Ill go with black again. Seems to hide me of my iniquities.

The taunting became worse in High school. Repeated bangs against the lockers, fists rolled up to punch you in and words hurled like pointed javelins. I remember how I used to run home and lock myself in the room crying, hoping for someone to console me and then you came and said it'll be all ok, have a doughnut instead and be happy. I smiled and obediently followed your orders and gobbled all the doughnuts and soft drinks I could find. Being fat was probably not so bad. I guess.

Senior year saw me join a bunch of rejects. Their meetings, in these dark and dingy attics, the window acting like a chimney. I finally felt at ease. Here I was, with others who didn’t conform to society's standard of perfection. Those who weren’t thin and tall with six pack abs and wore glasses. Yes, I have found my home. The place where I could belong. That is until our parents caught us which led to the expected grounding and hence the split of the rejects gang.

I hoped college would be different and it was. I made some good friends and then with some coaxing I joined the gym. It was horrible coming back home breathless and my back and sides paining like hell. No pain, no gain I kept reminding my self. As I opened the refrigerator sequined with many magnets holding on to dear life all the diets and exercise routines I was meaning to try out, I often wondered how you were feeling. How with the hour long cardio and weight training would rid you of your friends as they got metabolized away.

I head to the calendar to cross out another day and note down my waist size and my biceps to see what progress I’ve been making. It’s been going good till now. I've lost two inches off my waist and my biceps has grown two centimeters. I pat myself on the back and hed to make a salad in the kitchen. It definitely isn't easy loosing all the weight considering I pride myself with finishing a whole large pizza. Hmmm gone are those days. Its just grilled chicken, fish and salads now. No soft drinks. No candy.

But not having you with me now, I guess has done me good. No more do people stare at me and giggle when I cross by with my XXL shirt blowing in the wind and forming embarrassing shapes with the fat beneath. Even the anger of what I had done to myself had gone. I'm at peace and happy with my body. I read this line in a book once and it’s stuck with me since "I'm perfect, cos God made me that way" so I guess as I have to do now is work towards getting an amazing bod.

I love you my lipidous lover, even thought you were the soul cause of all my troubles, I'd still like to say thank you for being there, to console and protect me. Being thin doesn’t mean I have no use of you anymore. I do, but just in small amounts. Time to hit the shower. Gotta a meeting to go to. Miss you dearly. Lots of love....

Blueberry

2009-07-19T21:56:00.000+05:30

The streets like haunted caves beckon me and its ghost goes by the name of Dope...

I lay there on the bed. Lipstick smeared across my cheeks and mascara like black holes encircling my sodden eyes. He rained the hundred dollars in tens and left, the door slammed shut. My duty was done. Hurriedly I scramble to pick up the precious green and stuff it into my purse. I dress up, redo my makeup and head out.

My story is like many others. I emancipated myself when I was 18 and from then I was on a roll. "Hey there doll. You look mighty fine for a young thing like yourself. Have you ever considered modeling?" Well what would you expect. I fell for it and soon found myself in the dump. My dignity stripped along with my clothes.

I guess I always was a rebel. My parents couldn't tolerate me any longer so I decided to do them a favor. Take some load of. So I left to Mumbai, city of... wait I need a smoke... Aaah yes, where was I... Oh ya Mumbai... city of dreams, city of Bollywood, sin city of India... After Goa that is.

"Hey Charlie... I need some more. I'm low for the week. When aren't you?? Cash?? Ya I have it with me. Money first.Ok fine here." He hands me the frosted crystals. I take its aroma in. Never know when these cheap low lives will be cheating you. You have to be on the look out no matter what in this place. Everybody lies.

I head into his place. A party is going on as usual. Pinky, Simi and Rose are here. Figures. Hindi music plays in the background like mist in the sky. Nobody bothers. All are here for one thing and one thing only. Crack. Their whole lives go by it. Their mere existance encapsulated in this small granule. I inhale...

"Hey boss, you want me, you can have me. Like this body have you seen anywhere. Full fit like item girl only. How much? Hundred. That's too much. Kya boss, experience raises the bar don't you think. Hmmm..." I linger on allowing him to scan me. "Okay, get in." Here I am, Lady of the night being driven in a Mercedes.Cant wait to tell the others.

Good evening. I'm Sheethal Mehta and here is today's breaking news. In a series of murders involving call girls yet another has succumbed. The police have found a Mercedes on Marine Drive. They suspect it was stolen from Poison. Investigations are going on and the search remains for the elusive criminals.

My story is like many other unlucky ones. Lipstick smeared across my cheeks and mascara like black holes encircling my sodden eyes. I guess I always was a rebel. Nobody bothers. Here I am, Lady of the night. Bleeding, dying, regretting. If only it were a happy death. My eyes close. My last thoughts... How I wish I had a cig rite now.....

It always seems impossible until its done

2009-06-22T10:02:00.000+05:30

Its getting tiresome now. Getting up, eating breakfast late in order to skip the disgusting fish curry rice they serve in the afternoon. Study, doze of for 5 and end up awake after 20. The cold isn't helping either. The constant showers,the chirpy birds, everything looking so bright. I guess I've been in my room (hell with fluorescent lighting) for too long. On entering the first thing to catch your eye are the various textbooks of med, surgery, obg and pedo strewn around to hide the dusty corners of my table.

Time passes. Its lunch time. We order from out. I guess I'm immune to caffeine now having OD-ied on coffee for the past few weeks since the coke which supposedly contains it puts me of to sleep in a jiffy. I dream I'm in my crush's place with her dad and oddly enough my friend and her sister, my crush being no where in sight. My friend gets up and heads to the bedroom where she pulls out her school uniform and models it for us. Weird you say, weirder actually.

The last dream I had a sequence straight from Speed racer in spite of not having seen the movie. It involved me unlocking a Hayabusa, watching my dad wait at the signal on his cycle and an old lady who I had approached for something. The next minute I'm speeding down the street on the lookout for the police hehehe. Stress does that I guess, screws up dreams.

I head of the sanctum sanctum (the loo). Hopefully the dump should help clear my mind and body of unwanted toxins. It doesn't. I return back to my room, push the door open and see my room mate. Lucky dog, lying on his bed he watches The Office, not that I have a problem but the FREEDOM he has to actually do it. That bugs me. Damn it. If only I hadn't flunked in my first year of med school, I probably would have the good life.

I turn to face the calender which I have carefully struck off days leading to the big event, my final exams, neatly circled in fluorescent orange, the only color pen I could find at that time. Basically I feel its the University's fault for cursing me with this wretched conformist life of a juvenile delinquent. Two marks were all what I needed. TWO.And for that I pay for it with six months of my life package which includes: 6 month wait period till the next exams, separation from my friends who have carried on without looking back save a few.

Picnics, lunches, movies, drinks, weddings practically the entire basis of a students life,swirling,into a stinky drain....

P.S This is jus my pre-exam depression talking...

Seven Avatars

2009-05-21T15:49:00.002+05:30

Avaritia/Greed - Kareena Kapoor

Acedia/Sloth - Deepika Padukone

Ira/Wrath - Sushmita Sen

Invidia/Envy - Bipasha Basu

Superbia/Pride - Aishwarya Rai Bachchan

A toast...

2009-05-15T17:49:00.000+05:30

I was imagining this yesterday, surprisingly when I wasn't studying that too. This picture of all of my hostel mates sitting at a big cream colored banquet table with maroon table mats and white napkins in gold holders each of us being served red wine/champagne and a big shamiana over our head with the local singers, their songs floating in the breezy Goan air and to end this visual delight we were asked to toast to everyone separately. Saying a few words about 37 guys is definitely tough. I mean they are just people you hang around with while in hostel, chit chat , watch movies and then retire to your bedroom. But I figured having stayed there since August 15th, 2004 there has gotto be something I've appreciated in each of them, something to call their own. So here's what I was gonna say anyways...

His nimble fingers play away at the piano while he's forced to listen to off tune singing. His books, like God sends, he voraciously tears away. But amidst all the raucous and badminton, he stands apart as a bloody hard working Mal conformist who digs white, I mean really white chicks ;p (Nappi)

Never have I seen a guy who treats women and his bed the same... With RESPECT I mean you perverts. Part of the Three musketeers and also a fond restaurant goer which unfortunately finds him in the most holy of places... the bathroom. (Chocos)

With his tales of myth and reality, not forgetting he directed many of the in-hostel room plays is this guy who always finds a ray of hope in whatever he does. (GG)

I've heard he's a very good friend and is totally into movies. This critic of sorts doles out his honest opinions despite the shy guy he portrays outside. (3vik)

With looks and brains to match, this guy never fails to impress me with how lil I have actually studied before my exams. Thank you for making me realise that during those horrible exam times. (Kundapur)

Even though he's small I've often watched in amazement as this guy spins in and out of the mess queue without a scratch or bruise. And he also the Beckham mania seems to have hit him as I've noticed as of recent. (Krish)

I swear there'l never be dull moment with this guy around. His stories deliciously masalified and roasted, you'll be licking your fingers clean that is, if you have survived the laugh riot he'll set you on. (Abru)

Singh, undilah baisan, son of a mother father etc etc are all his alias'. Cricket and guitar crazy this curly haired, leg breaking dude leaves you always with a smile. (Singh, undilah baisan, son of a mother father.....)

Medium height, dark and handsome draped in basketball attire is also a very funny guy who can readily disarm you with his quick replies (Thoma)

This next guy is a God of sorts. All knowing, omnipresent and laptop-o-philic is known for going on and on from sports to politics to TV to music and the list will never end. Thanks for the all the trivia throughout the years (Who else can this be)

I'm sure all of us have feasted one day or the other on the food these two have in their rooms. From grandma baked cakes to biscuits and ice cold lemon tea we have had them all. Thank you for fattening us. (Schezwan chicken and YP)

One is a piano player and the other a nasal singer. Warden thought wisely putting these two together. May their walls be forever sound proofed and our ears heavily padded. Thank you for the music (Neyvelli and Himesh Miu Reshamiya)

Buff is just one word which completely describes him. Forever labouring after the coveted six pack, the same ones his idol Arjun Rampal doesn't have. (Denis the penance)

Mind blasting ideas, pj's and loads of fun to be with. His birthday surprises are always eagerly waited upon. (Pig)

Another room which needs soundproofing thanks to its deaf, 'sexual healing' meets 'any rap song' inhabitants. No thank you for the music. (Again you'll know very well who you'll are- (Sensitive & Pakao)

Stronger, bigger, faster, stronger. That's all what comes to my mind about my roommate. (LL Cool A)

My partner in all the crazy walk-a-thon's we have done. Not forgetting all the restaurants we have greedily invaded, all the topics in my textbook neatly marked and bitch sessions carefully listened to. Thank you, well basically for listening, wandering and being a bitch in need. (Shagger)

Laugh, laugh and some more laughs. And this isn't even at someone else, its at friggin me. His yapping, acting and entering rooms thru the lil window on top is just some of the millions he's done at hostel. (Stylo)

Another bitch in need is a bitch indeed, this one has heard it all. In great, extended and un-censored volumes. My idol and f*** buddy. (Duck)

Whenever his name comes to my mind, I always go back to the scene of first year bday celebrations and when the lights were switched of as some of us were shy to dance and then when it came one, this guy definitely had his freak going on. (Jetti)

Two sides of the mirror. One a traveller and the other a mugger. Its probably the differences which fated these two together. Plus I love the sweets one of them gets from the temples(Lord of waves/don/the man & Chancre)

From PUC in Blr to med coll in mlr, he's been with me. Hailed as the greatest cricketer of all, cant wait to see him on screen or as HOUSE. (Giri)

This master blaster of the batch, seriously can kick butt. Maheshbabu move aside for this dynamite. Hopefully I do see him someday, either directing, producing and definitely acting in the biggest blockbuster ever. Plus he has great hair. And I've seen the acting videos ;)(Entoi)

These two are definitely made for each other. One 6 foot hazard and the other a moustachioed love machine.(The love guru and the devotee)

Silent kill is all what I heard as he quietly waits to pounce for a kill. And his room mate is not bad either. Though not silent though, his laugh can be heard till the other end of hostel. (Shiv Seena)

One's the rapper champ and the other a book whiz. Even though one of them is born the same day as I was, wish I was as smart as him. (Champ & Koni)

Sent under the Queen's order this Australian is seriously a witty nag. Never boring, always smirking. (the name's Bond.. JoMoJo Bond)

With style unmatched and bottoms always up while asleep, these two bamboo boys we just cant enough. Especially the loud laughing during the afternoons while you'll relished the juicy gossip tastefully. Thank you for keeping us awake in the afternoons (Pee pee & Noop dogg)

And this whole episode ends with a delightful Goan meal.. Hmmm how I wish it were all true.

Vanilla... cut and dried

2009-05-10T09:32:00.001+05:30

Sis with her mates on either side

Me

Aaarrggghhhhmmmmm... or something like that, is the sound that emanates from the serous chambers of my throat as I get up from behind the sheets and survey the room. I notice from the noise coming from outside my door, the gushing, the rambling and the "oh my God's" that sis is up already. Such a fool, she sacrifices a good 10 hours sleep just to get up, face wash, moisturise, tweak and mascara, kajal and straighten her already Cosmo designed beauty. Heck , I'm not complaining. What's there for guys like us. Get up, take a leak, brush, comb and pick up random attire from the carpeted floor and done, saving the shades for last, of course, before I ride off to college.

She's got an interview today. No wonder all the extra add-on's. I can only imagine her signing the old anthem of Indian girls worldwide "banoonge mein, Miss India". Kingfisher does have a certain edge compared to other airlines. But I shudder to imagine my sister, a once 100 kilo moti gulab jamun now a svelte long legged lass on her airline with her mates, making announcements, serving guests, flirting with the pilots and charting of to London, Rome, Paris spending lavishly on perfumes and haute couture not to forget the cigarettes she'd be downing to relieve all the stress.I'll miss her though. No one to bug then when I'm back from college.

St. Xavier's, College of Arts. Yes, I know. You'll probably think I'm some loser who wasn't smart enough to make it through the rigorous equations and chemical potions and botanical jargon or zoological dissections but I did. In fact scored 92% percent, thank you very much. But that's not what I was meant to do. While I saw all my friends rushing off to IIT or medical concentration camps, I on the other hand just took my certificates and was immediately offered the desired course of Journalism, the art of writing, speaking and conveying everything publicly and hopefully uniquely.

Ever since my mom died and dad having left us for younger cheesecakes, Grandma has always labored on surreptitiously to make us have the finer things. Not that our Granddad didn't leave behind enough back from his Merchant Navy days. Our house may have been one of the old timers but whatever we did was in style. Why we ate off plates which had the insignia of the ship my Granddad was a chef on. My grandma still makes English breakfasts every Sunday, though not as good as to what Granddad used to since his ingredients were all imported from England each time his ship stopped by at Mangalore.

Even my cousins and uncle and aunties, practically everyone showed up save the neighbors who though we were a snooty lot showing off like proud peacocks but to hell with them anyways. I miss those days. Everything is so fast paced now. Running of to college, classes, assignments, projects, fests and then there's the nerve wrecking job interview tackling to prove that your different from the billion other aspiring Tagore's, Adiga's or Rushdie's. "Bye Dev, I'm of. Wish me luck na stupid. Your sister might just be one of the air goddess' on Kingfisher airlines. I might even introduce you to the girls, if I get in" she winks. "All the best Zizou" I smile and then proceed to freshen up.

Zizou, a nickname which stood ever since she was 10 and had this non stop fact dishing and picture collecting of Zinedine Zidane's glorious football carrier. All that stopped after the head butt though. "He's so mean ya, but the other guy deserved it no??" Somehow aggressiveness always put off Zi. She never used to play with any of the kids who shoved or pushed and even if they did, she'd just run to their parents who would then gloriously shower their children with verbose chiding and bum meets scale techniques. After that she'd just walk away. Smiling away to glory at her accomplishment of saving the world from the bullies.

My sweet, charming, spectacle wearing (replaced with grey contacts now though), plump (now a size 6, after her idol Gisele Bündchen, whom I used to drool over every time Zi got a magazine with her on it), saving the world from bullies Zizou. The sms alert rings. 'My turn is coming up... Pls pray for me :) muah.' How I hate her muahs. Its sounds like these pretentious rich ladies who drool on about how rich they are and then gulp champagne and eat caviar from golden spoons, all the time mocking the poor beggars who cross the street. Anyways, I utter a prayer and then head off to college. Hopefully something exciting happens today...

Disturbia

2009-05-08T17:14:00.000+05:30

I've finally decided. I'm a heart person. Anything to do with love and the whole jambola of emotions, are all right up my alley. I guess its got to be due to having read the horoscopes and having promptly mugged up all the characteristics of the humble Cancerian and having diligently executed it in my life, ever since I was small.

I don't think there's not a single characteristic I dont fit into. Lets see there's shy, timid, withdrawn, dull but only at times, home loving, obstinately tenacious, purposeful, energetic, intuitive and wise, sometimes with a philosophical profundity of thought verging on inspiration, sympathetic and kindly sensitivity to other people, especially those they love.

I tend to be over-imaginative and prone to fantasy, sometimes trying to shape my life to fit some romantic ideal. I am appreciative of art and literature, and especially of drama.

Mentally, a mixture of toughness and softness, often emotional and romantic to the point of sentimentality in fantasies; but in real life the loving is not so sentimental but tenaciously loyal. I am also too easily influenced by those they love and admire, and swayed by the emotion of the moment.

Having a retentive memory, particularly for emotionally laden events which I can recall in detail for years afterwards. Being strongly governed by childhood memories and since I live intensely in the past in memory and in the future in imagination, a chance meeting with someone for whom they had an unrequited love, even if they thought they had conquered the feeling, will easily rouse the emotion all over again.

Now hasn't that happened before eh??

Time of my Life

2009-05-07T18:09:00.000+05:30

6:15pm... Hmmm, time certainly passes quickly when your having fun. Well, I wouldn't classify my present situation which involves sitting cross legged on my bed, with my textbook resting on a pillow, sorta like how the magic lamp in Aladdin was placed and day dreaming about the romantic possibilities of a relationship with certain so and so's, as ecstatic, but should do for the time being.

Then there's the, 'oh my God, I've put on so much frigging weight that the shirt I paid 700 bucks for is gonna suffer fo sure if I couldn't wear it to the Farewell. Quick Sms note made on my mobile should do the trick. "LOOSE WEIGHT FOR SHIRT TO LOOK GOOD". Yes, weird as it sounds, the shirt has become a second skin for which I have to loose the many other skins just for it to be special for just one day. Superficial, you say. Stuff it. We have all gone through the phase. Well not the genetically modified fat burning perfect body ones though. UURRGGHH hate them for their genes and jeans.

What topic should I put up on my blog? hmmm... Crow has gone and written something dope as usual that the 30 something readers who vociferously read her work have all commented while I sit here like an old lady on my hunches churning epic after epic of chutney for the various people who do show up only to chance upon the pics I've up or to read a few lines and then disappear like electric pink cotton candy in ones mouth. Thankfully for the FEEDJIT, I now know that people all over the world stop by, but still. Where is the love? where are the comments? I have nothing to show my competing curly bed haired smudged kajal wearing rani anything. While she grows better and better. The torture of it all, I tell you.

"I wanna make love in this club 'ey, in this club 'ey in this club 'ey
I wanna make love in this club 'ey, in this club 'ey in this club 'ey"
It blares again bringing me back. The freaking song that haunts me everyday as for my neighbors for whom "music is life" holds good as their motto. With a smirk on my face I quickly contemplate the plan of action. Lets see, I have the keys to their room. I could sneak in while they are gone, hack the wires of their speakers with a knife and leave with my legendary smirk and probably a laugh to go with the triumph of having "stopped the music". But alas AGAIN I whip out my trusty Nokia, go to messages, new message, text message, volume!!!, enter number, send message, 1299 messages left in current balance. And the deed is done. The volume fades leaving behind bass notes which thump the creaking tiled floor.

It is a condition in which... uuurggh. This is crap. SLAM the book goes and pushed away to the dusty corner of the table. 7pm I'm hungry. Wish I could order some pizza. Quickly I rush to reminders "LOOSE WEIGHT FOR SHIRT TO LOOK GOOD!!!". Screw it. I slide back against the 125 year old white washed walls and think if only I were a regular. I would be an intern. Busy with work. Free to roam, to gym, to eat, to dance, to eat. 2 more months.. 2 more loooonng months.

"Coming for dinner?" Sagar asks. Dressed in his coat and steth wrapped like a serpent on Shiva. "uhuh" I reply and shuffle into my chappals and then head to wash my plate in the E.coli infected waters. And then I head to bitter reality. The mess hall... dammit

Bhagyalakshmi & the Beast

2009-04-30T19:26:00.000+05:30

The father- Swamy Ramalingam Mazhiattal

The youngest daughter- Bhagyalakshmi

The hero- Surya

The villain- Rajnikanth

The happy couple- Bhagyalakshmi & Surya

The love snack- Goli Bajjis

It so happened in a small town in Chennai that there lived Swamy Ramalingam Mazhiattal and his three daughters Roopmani, Meenakshi and Bhagyalakshmi. Far and wide in the town was their beauty known that marital offers ceased no end from the time he had conducted each of their Manjhal Neeratu Vizha, a Tamil puberty ceremony.But he had loved them dearly and was saddened by the thought of having them leave for their husbands household and therefore had politely refused all offers.

One day he had to visit Mangalore, a small town in Karnataka to see to his export business and had called his daughters to bid them farewell. While he was leaving, he asked them what wanted from Mangalore. Roopmani, the eldest daughter asked for a diamond encrusted platinum ring. The second, Meenakshi asked for sleeveless salwar kameezes and then when it was Bhagyalakshmi's turn who said "Illai appa, just return back safely,Mangalore is a big Sin City, I heard and I don't want you getting hurt."

"What nonsense you are saying, Bhagu. Nothing of the sort will happen. Now tell me what you want." She finally gave in and said "Appa I heard their goli bajjis are the tastiest in the whole world, I'll have that."

So he set off on his journey by train and reached Mangalore the next afternoon. After seeing to his business, he then went to the leading jewellery store and bought for Roopmani, a diamond encrusted platinum ring and then went roaming Hampankata for sleeveless salwar kameezes. "Truly I say, this Mangalore is a Sin City" after seeing the cuts on the salwars. Suddenly he gets a call. Its Ramakantha, his personal secretary calling to say that his arch nemesis Rajnikanth is creating problems at the dock.

He then rushed to the scene which suddenly became intense and drama filled with profanities being hurled left, right and centre. Later gundas joined the scene and what followed can only be described by the makers of the Matrix themselves. But alas Swamy emerged victorious and retired to his hotel for a shower and a change of attire as he was leaving that night. It was then during his journey back that he remembered Bhagya's wish for goli bajjis but alas it was too late.

When the train had stopped at Kasargod he got off and to his surprise there was a guy selling goli bajjis near the station. He ordered two packets of the delicious item, but luck was not to favor him as the guy happened to be in hand with Rajnikant and it wasn't too long when the gundas surrounded him and took him to Rajhni's palace."How dare you?" he said, "you, scoundrel, filthy rascal. Trying to steal goli bajjis huh"."No, no I assure you I was trying to buy some for my daughter Bhagyalakshmi who had asked for the tasty delights."

Seeing that Rajni would not give into his pleading he fell to his feet and asked for pardon as his daughters were not married and had no one save him to look after them. Seizing the opportunity, he agreed but on one condition that in seven days he should send his daughter Bhagyalakshmi, whom he had developed an interest in as she too had liked goli bajjis. Swamy reluctantly agreed and left the palace not knowing what to make of it all.

On arriving home, he was greeted at the door by his daughters. Roopmani's face glowed with the new ring of hers. So did Meenakshi, who ran to show her friends the new salwars she had got. But when it was Bhagyalakshmi's turn, her father handed her the packet and then turned away. "What happened father? I can see you are worried about something."With a heavy heart he dismissed the issue and they all settled to a family dinner.

As the days passed, the wrinkles on Swamy's head kept furrowing until the day was nearing and he had called upon Bhagyalakshmi "I'm afraid I've to tell you something. Now please forgive me Bhagu, but I had no other option. He told her all that had befallen him. "Oh my poor Appa, how can I stand to see this torture eating you up inside. I shall do so, as you say and keep your word." They left on the Chennai express the next day to Kasargod where they hired an auto to take them to Rajni's palace.

On reaching, they saw the magnitude of his riches. Two Mercedes, one Skoda, one Scorpio, landscaped gardens and fountains. The servants led them in to the living room and said that their master would take some time and advised them to have lunch without him. As they ate the Virundhu Sappadu consisting of appams, uthappam, paal paniyaram, Jigarthanda, Muttaiparotta, Paruthipal, Ennaidosai , Santhakai and kola urunda.

After having their fill to eat and drink, suddenly a black Scorpio pulls up and out walks Rajni with his henchmen. "Oh, I see you have arrived. And this is the beauty I say." "Yes, sir". "Very well, servants show her her room and take good care of her. I shall see no harm shall come to her. You can visit every week if you like." And having said that he left, the room filled with his hedonistic laughter. As the father leaves his daughter behind, tears filled his weary eyes.

So Bhagya lived with Rajni and the whole town , who came to hear of Rajni's latest muse often passed by to capture a glimpse of the beauty who had won his heart.It was here that our hero Surya managed to see her one day and cupid's arrow had struck his heart.Bhagya too had noticed this young man and often responded with a smile each time he had arrived, which was during tea time.

One day he didn't show up as usual for tea and biscuits and this troubled Bhagya and various thoughts crept into her head as to the whereabouts of Rajni. She then hired an auto to take her to the goli bajji stand as the station and it was there that she found Rajni lying on the floor writhing in pain. "Oh no" she screamed. "Fear not Bhagya, it was me who took care of this villain for you. I couldn't stand the way he was treating you and you deserve more in life than being locked up in his palace."

After recovering from shock, Bhagya found herself in a bed filled with roses and Surya looking intently at her. He then told her the whole story of how it had happened and that he in fact was a rich businessman who had truly fallen in love with her and couldn't stand being without her. With tears of joy she hugged him and then they set off on the next train to Chennai where they met with her father and sisters and got married.

And they lived happily ever after...

N.B This was inspired both by Crowscious' Handsome and Ghetto and a Ducktail's episode titled Scroogerello and of course Beauty and the Beast

Prepare for Glory....

2009-04-11T22:44:00.000+05:30

"When the boy was born
like old Spartans
he was inspected.
If he had been small
or puny or sickly or misshapen
he would've been discarded.
From the time he could stand, he was
baptized in the fire of combat.
Taught never to retreat,
never to surrender..."

As these words resonate in my head (well not exactly since the movie was released much later) I stood there at the start of the line, waiting. My pants pulled up, my nose rubbed and phlegm swallowed, I waited till that auspicious moment.

The whistle blew and the chase was on. With my eyes firmly set on the goal, I ventured both fast and furious, the prize was destined to be mine. Gathering up the chocolates, one by one, the varying levels of difficulty encountered ranging from the size and shape of the chocolate to the amount my little hands could carry.

Amidst the cheers of gleeful parents, I spotted my foes, one too many. Their hands loaded with chocolates much more than mine, I had to act fast. Pulling out my shirt, I dumped the already melting chocolates into the Kangaroo pouch I had created and dashed to the far ends of the garden.

At last the whistle blew. I stood there triumphant. As they announced for us to proceed to the counters , I was proud of myself. Dropping the colorfully packed delights onto the table, I smiled as the counter lady ooohhed and aahhheedd. And then the counting began.

Standing there at the podium with the whole amalgam of families looking on. The first place goes to... Carl. The battle had been won. Another victory accomplished.There was no place for losers, for this, was a Man's game.

I now pronounce thee... Class Monitor

2009-04-09T21:45:00.001+05:30

4:00 am - Get up
4:30 am - Ready and dressed in blue sweater and shorts.
4:30 - 5:00 am - Wait for the maniacal road kill driver who has this obsession of picking us up early so that he can have the road to himself.
5:30 am - Reach school and wait for the remaining class to arrive slowly and steadily through the next hour.
6:30 am - Class starts.
12:30 pm - Class ends.

yes, the same schedule happened every day till that special day.

4:00 am - Get up
4:30 am - Ready and dressed in blue sweater and shorts.
4:30 - 5:00 am - Wait for the maniacal road kill driver who has this obsession of picking us up early so that he can have the road to himself.
5:30 am - Reach school and wait for the remaining class to arrive slowly and steadily through the next hour.
6:30 am - Class starts.
8:00 am - Was told to monitor a class. It was Teacher's day so the teacher's had a function to attend so we the BIG boys had to monitor the little ones.
8:05 am - Entered class. Walked backwards and forwards. Snubbed all the looks the smart asses were giving me.
8:15 am - It was becoming boring. Thought I'd start playing games and the only thing that popped into my head was Hangman, which coincidentally was the same thing I wanted to do with some of those critters.
9:00 am - Game over
9: something - Restlessness begins. Outnumbered I don't know what to do. Think, think, think.
10:00 - Enough is enough.
10:05 - I SCREAM "QUIET"!!!
10:05:02 - The class in utmost silence accepts defeat and bows in silence and some are just in plain shock.
10:05:05 - Classmates from neighbouring sections rush in to see what happened and there was me, standing like a knight who conquered the dragon. They too with mouths open, watch in wonder as mine was the only silent class available and that me, the most silent and shiest boy of the class had just won the battle of keeping the class silent.
10:30 - The silence was dragging and boring. Decided to teach them about palindromes which was the first thing which popped into my head. Hmmm what a nerd I was.
10:35 - The teacher enters and looks at the palindromes. She too, seemed to have learnt something new... That too, on Teacher's day!!! : )

Forgive me Jules, for I know not what I'm doing...

2009-04-09T19:37:00.000+05:30

A man with a fractured leg, a lady whose hands cant stop trembling, a boy hurling abuses is hidden in the corner by his bashful mother and then there's me. Why would a doctor go to another doctor you may ask? Well the fact is not all doctors are demi-gods, diseases get to them and once it does all you can do is hope and wait that another person helps you out of the dump.I sit and wait near the nurses desk. "The doctor will be right with you" she said. Not something that I'm not used to. I'm sure the patients who used to sit outside my waiting room also experienced the same. I guess they are on to you when you have visited as many times as I have.

I've known Marc since high school. The best of friends, us both. We used to go for football practice together, dated twin sisters, played video-games, the works. Seeing him at Hopkins was the least I expected for he had never mentioned it to me neither the fact that it was me who had inspired him to choose medicine and I was glad he did. We ended up being roommates and everything went well from day one.

Everything about medicine fascinated me no end. All the drugs with their fancy formulas and recipes, the functioning of each part of the body, the repair involved during surgery, it was all in my blood as probably Edward Cullen of Twilight would say "my own personal brand of heroin." Like him, I too had found mine.

I cant say when my disease started. Probably the day, Jules was born. She was beautiful. Her blue eyes, porcelain skin, breathtaking. But I then found myself taking a bit too much interest in her health. What would you expect you'd say? Every father dreams of nothing but the best for his daughter, but too much of care was what I had. Like a carnivorous bacteria, it ate me up each time she had a simple cold or slight temperature. Nothing but the best for my daughter I said.

I found myself taking her regularly to the pediatrician, who later got fed up or me and behaved rudely the next time I had arrived. This continued some more and many doctors later I had finally found someone I could trust, Marc Dillon, my hero.But he too noticed I was far more worried than usual for Jules. "I know it pains you Jo, but you really don't need to bring Jules here for simple stuff like this. Loading her with medicines isn't good for her." I just used to sit there and cry till he got fed up and prescribed the pills to me.

And then one day, Jules really did become sick and it didn't stop with the meds. I knew the best thing I could do was to make it all stop. What father would like to see his baby go through all that suffering. Filling in the bath tub with water. I waited contemplating what I was doing and deep down I knew something was wrong when I held my beautiful baby deep down in the tub, waiting for the bubbles to stop and when they did, I knew my job was done. I had made my baby happy, no more suffering....

Her funeral was beautiful. All those people, comforting me and saying that everything was going to be alright felt strangely exhilarating, her death made me happy with all the attention I was receiving.I was sick, your honor. I had killed my baby and I knew it...

Minutes later, I hurl in my seat at court. The officers take me away. I'm waiting for my sentence now. Perhaps I could meet Jules once more and tell her how much I really loved her. How much I really cared about her and that it was her daddy who was sick and not her and ask for forgiveness...

** Münchausen syndrome by proxy - injury is deliberately and gradually inflicted upon another person usually for gaining attention or some other benefit.Münchausen by proxy is a form of child abuse.The caregiver is usually a parent, guardian, or spouse, and the victim is usually a child or vulnerable adult. (Source - Wikipedia)

Bella de Barcelona

2009-04-04T20:18:00.000+05:30

The summer breeze floats on by, the grass rustles with the caress. The waters kiss the sores of the beaten rocks, Barcelona, city of my dreams. The spanish guitar draws me in further and further, its hold on me not leasing. I would write more but then I believe anything I say will just not be enough to appreciate your beauty...

Frozen

2009-03-28T18:11:00.000+05:30

Its been 2 years now, as I lay on my bed. The curtains drawn to let the sun in. The tulips bend to gaze outside the window while the curtains swing in the gentle breeze while I'm still lying there, frozen. Looks like Renee stayed the night, her bag and shawl on the chair. I guess she's gone to freshen up after sleeping over. I miss her.

The memory though painful plagues me everyday as I lie on my bed with the monitor deciphering my every heart beat, respiratory rate and so on. The night, the car, the street, the drink, all flash with the last flashback leaving me here at John Hopkins, the same place I had been to when Renee was born.

I guess my carelessness has troubled my poor baby, but she forgives me for the same. I strained to listen to what she said when it all happened. Her prayer, urging God to take pity on me and to give her back her father. I wished I could caress her hair and tell her everything would be okay. But I couldn't.

My room, is pretty bland save the flowers and the brown sofa. The bed is hard to say the least, its hard exterior covered by the blue dotted sheet. I can't say much about the floor. Haven't set foot on it in the past two years. The TV blares on, Renee set it to the news for me, even though she hates watching it herself.

Everything seemed peaceful, Renee and me, but when would I return back home with her. Renee comes back. There are tears in her eyes. Poor baby, my baby, I love you. The doctor and the nurse follows. They say their sorry, but for what? And then it hits me, they are going to take me off the ventilator.

Suddenly fear grips me, how cant they? I need to live, if not for myself at least for Renee. She comes closer and hugs me, I scream, but all that comes out is silence. The nurse inches closer, the drips are the first to stop. Slowly and steadily they stop the machine.

And all I can do is close my eyes all the time screaming and bawling inside like a spoilt child, wanting to live, wanting to walk free, wanting to be with my baby. But alas all I can do, is lie frozen. With the monitor now silent and my spirit overlooking the entire scene.

At the end of the lane

2009-03-23T15:18:00.000+05:30

After the tiresome day with the sun weighing me down, its rays trying to pin me in the eyes through the holes in my cap. My jacket and pant, a gift from the generous bhaisaab who gave me this olive green jacket and pant. The black banyan torn and worn, another treasure find at the dump. To top it all, the skull cap, my prize trophy, won in a fight, totally worth the scar it emblazoned across my left cheek. Its not really seen though, my beard, rough and scraggy metastasised over the ugly crater.

Pulling out the cigarette from my pocket which I stole from the kid at the other street, bloody rascals. Roaming in their shorts, barely having felt a woman's warmth and acting like big gang lords, with beedies and cigarettes, coughing and gagging. I reach for the matches in my bag. A big foreign one, I was told, light brown with LV written all over. Wonder what it means? LV?

A dastardly dog picks at my stick and I hurl abuses and watch it run away. Shifting to cross leg, I inhale. The smoke fills my mouth, my blood absorbing it while it stays and through the side it blows away, the wind grabbing it and running like a thief.

I sit there, at the end of the lane, preparing myself for the long journey. The city's ends miraged, by the damn sun...

Midsummer Night's Dream

2009-03-20T17:59:00.001+05:30

Having finished work late, I decided to grab something to eat at the local vendor. Eyeing the delicacies neatly placed in their silver platters and lit to brilliance under the yellow fluorescent tube, what caught my eye were the cheese sticks designed to look as gingerbread men and hence decorated ironically with lots of colored sprinkles. They came with toothpicks which served both as walking sticks for the men and as the road for them to tread on.

After deciding on a ghee filled croissant, I pay him the 20 rupees and carefully manoeuvre the slippery delight lest I loose the precious golden liquid. He then tells me that his place actually caters to many IT people like me and that it would set me back by a measly 70 rupees to eat at his joint for a year. I step back to see if the offer was worth its salt while I bit into the croissant.

She then steps next to me, eyeing my eat and then proceeds to ask the vendor for the same, both in English followed by Tamil. I then turn to see who had ordered the same dish as mine and she was peculiar like someone I had seen before, someone from my school days.

She was dark. Her hair cut in a cute bob. Her eyes neatly kajaled. But then her hand approaches my croissant which I've only eaten a little off the side while she breaks a big piece. As she unceremoniously steals what is mine the ghee oozes from its doughy cavity I "aaeehh" in defiance as she consumes it.

A lady clad in a sari sitting on the bench close to us all this while quite suddenly speaks "Do you know what you have done? Only married people are supposed to eat from the same plate." "What??" I scream...

Sleepily I type this, my myalgic fingers tiring to stop and go back back to sleep but I continue word by word spell checked and full stopped...

I'd like to thank....

2009-03-19T17:11:00.000+05:30

Like the billion or so people of the world who crave soo much for the coveted Oscar, I too am one of them. Just like tales of yore, mine too starts when I was small and then exposed to the glitzy world of Indian award shows with its dances, songs, amazingly long speeches and beautiful heroines especially Aishwarya Rai and Sushmita Sen, both of whom I admire a lot and still do.

The next step is practising for the so called 'imaginary' award show, which includes the whole jing bang of seeing clips of the nominees, then then announcement (well in my case it was Aishwarya Rai who announced my name :) and then walking up to the stage, kissing her on the cheek, probably throwing in a few words in Tulu in her ears while I'm kissing her cheek and then launching into a Caesar like speech with my mothers hairbrush in hand.

"I'd like to thank God, for whom without which this wouldn't be possible. My parents and siblings for believing in me. All my fans who appreciate my work and of course the esteemed judges who deemed it worthy."

Yeah I know its a drag and a bunch of cliches separated by full stops but that's what I had grown up hearing and rehearsing and believing would come true someday.

I'm sitting here right now watching the Oscars which was ceremoniously downloaded by my video shop wallah for monetary pleasure for suckers like me who are attracted by bright and shiny things. At first its the "Whose wearing what?" which in itself is fascinating.

However its kinda boring that the men just have to manage between a tux and a suit. For my big win (high hopes!!) I decided I'm gonna wear a bandgala probably by JJ Vallaya which is probably the only guy I know who makes it since I saw it in an ad in the magazine. To go with probably a black Dior watch which I still remember from an Outlook magazine which I promised myself I'd buy with my own salary. And then shoes anyone will do really. Not much worried about those. I had actually read in a magazine that women judge men by their shoes. Wonder how true that is. But I guess the specialists who buy them in such a large number you'd figure that they'd have to have some clue as to what they are doing.

And then there was the dream of actually hosting the event, but that soon died off when i realised what a headache that must be to keep it lively and funny at the same time when ladies are rushing to have gowns changed and the men look lazily on trying to spot a wardrobe Mal-function.

But one thing which seems to get me all the time is the gifts the stars get at the end of the show... I mean prime property on the moon... who can beat that!!!

Hmmm some day some day I tell myself..,. I'm gonna be up there...

Qasbah

2009-03-15T09:27:00.000+05:30

The moon clad in her burqa
Embellished with the stars
Watches through her veil
The city of Al-Qasbah

Candles housed in clay lanterns
Their flames quivering in the breeze
The majlis, fragranced with myrrh
Hookahs, wine and grapes

As Ziryab strums the Oud
His mellifluous voice
Bewitches the guests
Their bodies, inebriated with myrrh

The Bait ul- Samira
With its twisted maze
Fools many with its demented charm
But its her that they all come to see.

Sabih announces her arrival
With the Darbukah
His each note followed by bells
As she enters

She raises her veil
Her fair skin and dark eyes
Pleasing to ones carnal desires
She begins the raqs sharqi

With the chiming zilz
And the flowing silk
She draws the hungry eyes
Deeper into the abyss... Of the Qasbah

It doesnt have to happen in India only!!!

2009-03-05T17:54:00.000+05:30

In a day and age when recession hits major countries around the globe, India sits back and relaxes in the afterglow of the Oscars as it sees many of its citizens getting the prestigious Golden man award. But after this email that I had received I was wondering if the world still lives in the delusion of India being the land of mysticism and snake charmers... Read on to know what I mean...

The answers are actual responses to the questions posted on a website by the people outside India planning a visit to India..

Q: Does it ever get windy in India? I have never seen it rain on TV, how do the plants grow? (UK).
A: We import all plants fully grown and then just sit around watching them die.

Q: Will I be able to see elephants in the street? (USA)
A: Depends how much you've been drinking.

Q: I want to walk from Delhi to Goa- can I follow the railroad tracks? (Sweden)
A: Sure, it's only three thousand kms, take lots of water.

Q: Is it safe to run around in the bushes in India? (Sweden)
A: So it's true what they say about Swedes.

Q: Are there any ATMs (cash machines) in India? Can you send me a list of them in Delhi, Chennai, Calcutta and Bangalore? (UK)
A: What did your last slave die of?

Q: Can you give me some information about hippo racing in India? (USA)
A: A-fri-ca is the big triangle shaped continent south of Europe. In-di-a is that big triangle in the middle of the Pacific & Indian Ocean which does not.. oh forget it. .. Sure, the hippo racing is every Tuesday night in Goa. Come naked.

Q: Which direction is North in India? (USA)
A: Face south and then turn 180 degrees. Contact us when you get here and we'll send the rest of the directions.

Q: Can I bring cutlery into India? ( UK)
A: Why? Just use your fingers like we do.

Q: Can you send me the Indiana Pacers matches schedule? (France)
A: Indiana is a state in the Unites States of.oh forget it. Sure, the Indiana Pacers matches are played every Tuesday night in Goa, straight after the hippo races. Come naked.

Q: Can I wear high heels in India? ( UK )
A: You're a British politician, right?

Q: Are there supermarkets in Bangalore, and is milk available all year round? (Germany)
A: No, we are a peaceful civilization of vegan hunter/gatherers. Milk is illegal.

Q: Please send a list of all doctors in India who can dispense rattlesnake serum. (USA)
A: Rattlesnakes live in A-meri-ca which is where YOU come from. All Indian snakes are perfectly harmless, can be safely handled and make good pets.

Q: Do you have perfume in India? ( France)
A: No, WE don't stink.

Q: I have developed a new product that is the fountain of youth. Can you tell me where I can sell it in India? (USA)
A: Anywhere significant numbers of Americans gather.

Q: Do you celebrate Christmas in India? (France)
A: Only at Christmas.

Q: Will I be able to speak English most places I go? (USA)
A: Yes, but you'll have to learn it first.

Q: Can I see Taj Mahal anytime? (Italy)
A: As long as you are not blind, you can see it anytime.

Q: Do you have Toilet paper? (USA)
A: No, we use sand paper. (we have different grades)

Wat you are saying, I'm not understanding...

2009-03-04T14:13:00.000+05:30

"I'm feeling full right now" - No, not really, its just that I don't like what I'm eating so i feign a full appetite for now.... but I'm always ready for dessert :)

"Uhuh" - This may or may not be true at times. I can simply uhuh whatever you say without having a clue of the on going situation.

"Ya, ill do it later" - Again variable depending on the score on my laziness scale.

"That looks good on you" - Kind of a cliche but works wonders...

"Im sorry could you repeat it, I didn't quiet get it" - Hah I wasnt even paying attention to get it in the first place, this is usually used at professors since many at times I have no clue as to why I'm here, what I'm doing here etc etc...

" " - There's a whole lot of stuff I wanna ask patients apart from the boring necessary details like when do you go fishing? is the catch better in the morning or in the evening? what special food did your mom bring for you today? and soo much more but unfortunately i have a language barrier... Kannada : (

"Oh puhleeeese" - Something my friend Trishul with an h still says and I follow.

"Bloody beep beep beep"- not often said thankfully. But when I do start, it goes on and on...

"If only..." - associated with both the good and the bad alike... I wish i could eat all the food in the world and not become fat or I wish he/she bloody choked on something or tripped and fell the whole stairways down....

"I'm bored" - Probably the truest and most often said of the lot... hence the post : )

Result : Fail

2009-03-03T17:52:00.000+05:30

Yes... that's what it said at the bottom of the report sheet. Fail as in failure to cope up with the rest... Fail as in unable to fill my answer sheets with precious mental vomit... Fail as in being separated from the rest... Yes, that's what I felt and repeatedly told myself in the likely events to follow my arrival back in college.

Whining during prayers is also another thing I've noticed I do. Why him Jesus? I'm sure I'm better than HIM. But no, He never listens and I'm still stuck in my Failure's paradise.

"Hey, we're sorry about what happened. How you feeling now?" the pity talk was inevitable. They didn't know what to say, I didn't know how to react. So i guess we were all in the same boat except mine would take off 6 months later. Many tears and advise later I said to myself "To hell with them, I can manage. All I need to do right now is study real hard and make it through."

And fortunately that's what happened. Four years down the line, its results time for the "regulars" and they each pass with their steths proudly hung around their napes, I stand and watch them. "Why couldn't I be there?" If only this was a stupid nightmare, I could pinch myself free from. But no, this my friend was reality, smacking me right in my cherubic ( well depression does arouse hunger, I'm sure you'll are well versed with that physiological phenomenon) face.

So i thought there must me others who have had been in the same position, so i browse the net for quotes which they would have inevitably given the secret of getting over failure. So this is what i found

Ashley Montague: The deepest human defeat suffered by human beings is constituted by the difference between what one was capable of becoming and what one has in fact become.

Elaine Maxwell: My will shall shape the future. Whether I fail or succeed shall be no man's doing but my own. I am the force; I can clear any obstacle before me or I can be lost in the maze. My choice; my responsibility; win or lose, only I hold the key to my destiny.

Yes i know. Both very encouraging and very happy go lucky but not the case when you experience it.

I guess I should get to studies now. The burden increasing and my mind space decreasing...

Aaaarrrggghhh.... Jus pass me already...

Talisman

2009-02-10T17:14:00.000+05:30

Fire is indeed an enigma. In school I was told, it was invented by our forefathers to keep warm during cold winter nights or to cook the meat they had caught, but all that fire had given me was neither warmth nor nourishment. Instead it consumed my wife and my one year old son, his little feet just learning to tread the dusty ground.

They say never run away from fear but look it in its eyes and stand firm, but how could I. With no support and now with no home, I had to run. Escape from the misery that had befallen me. The journey albeit tiring had to be done. With my knapsack and few rupees I left Jaipur, the Pink city for Bombay, the city of dreams.

Having reached the highway, I waited, noticing the Volvo buses reversing in order to line up neatly in rows whereas the trucks haphazardly parked themselves wherever they felt like. Truck-walas do most of their travel by night after a stop at the local dhabas. A free ride is all I could really afford now.

As night approached, the dhabas sprung to life. The Chingi/ Nepalis who themselves had left their hometowns in search of greener money soon found themselves serving customers with Gobi Manchuri and chicken kababs. I feel sorry for them. The fire works up a sweat as they stir and flip the oily contents into the soya smoked air. Atlast as they masterpiece is ready, its poured into a rag cleaned plate and presented to the customers delight.

But dont be fooled, the best food in

India

is found always at the roadside and not in those posh restaurants which on tv they show under serving their guests. I've never realised why people pay hundreds of rupees to end up with a slice of meat and few boiled vegetables thrown the side.

Here with 25 rupees, a sumptuous meal of gobi or noodles with tomato and chilli sauce can be enjoyed under the lampost with the breeze gently cooling the piping hot food. I helped myself to some Gobi manchuri for this happened to be my last meal in the pink city.

All the dhabas have interesting names. Either its named after their wives or daughters or sons. Some have an almost blood relation to China and its ethereal dragon. But here at Pinky's Dhaba, supposidely the best among the lot so the guy claimed, I met Neelesh...

When the powers of the mind and stomach combine...

2009-02-08T10:42:00.000+05:30

It gives rise to splendid, sometimes atrocious mix of things. But even then, its always amazing to note how comfortably the stomach controls the mind when you throw in certain things to sweeten or salt your mouth. Here's something i thought of when I was small, feel free to add your own weird recipes... :)

Imagine this a big wide ice cream bowl with a stand so u can hold it. The base formed by a pancake dipped in vanilla/strawberry essence. Topped with a thick layer of cream followed by sliced gulab jamuns. Then another layer of cream topped with Alphonso mango and lychee's. This again shall be pressed by another layer of pancake dipped in vanilla/strawberry essence and the whole thing mummified in chocolate.

Bon appetite!!! :) :P

L'agent Provocateur

2009-02-05T19:17:00.001+05:30

A heady mix of
Scotch and perfume
Both Evil in their own ways
Fills the air.

Cigarette butts
Shaped like missiles
Lay strewn
In their ashy graves.

Standing at the doorway
Lace and Lingerie
Both Evil in their own ways
She inches closer

Flicking her luscious hair
Brown interlaced with black
Lips, inviting in pink
Eyes which sink deep within.

Our bodies meet
Love and Lust
Both Evil in their own ways
She in me and me in her.

Its time now
She leaves with a kiss
Heels click the wooden floor
L'agent Provocateur

My fav Houseisms

2009-01-25T15:49:00.000+05:30

“I teach you to lie, cheat, and steal, and as soon as my back's turned you wait in line?”

“Like I always say, there's no "I" in team. There's a "me" though, if you jumble it up.”

“Nobel invented dynamite. I won't accept his blood money.”

“You can think I'm wrong, but that's no reason to quit thinking.”

“That's absurd. I love it.”

“The drugs don't make me high, they make me neutral.”

“You know me. Hostility makes me shrink up like a... [pauses] I can't think of a non-sexual metaphor.”

“I'm a little busy - gettin' my drink on.”

“Perseverance does not equal worthiness. Next time you want to get my attention, wear something fun. Low-riding jeans are hot.”

“I am the doctor who's trying to save your son's life. You're the mother who's letting him die. Clarification- it's a beautiful thing.”

“[Answering Newsweek's phone call about Dr. Charles' condition] In my opinion, Dr. Sebastian Charles is an idiot! Yeah, you can quote me... C-U-D-D-Y.”

“[To Cameron at Christmas]
Candy canes? Are you trying to mock me?”

“I take risks, sometimes patients die, but not taking risks causes more patients to die - so I guess my biggest problem is I've been cursed with the ability to do the math.”

“[To Foreman]
Her leg hurts after running six miles. Who knows? Could be anything.”

“Treating illnesses is why we became doctors. Treating patients is what makes most doctors miserable.”

“[Talking to a patient about suing doctors] It's ironic, isn't it? Sort of like the boy who sued wolf... you know, I bet we have a doctor named Wolf. How perfect would that be? I'm gonna page him.”

“Bros before hos, man.”

“How does someone just start drooling? Chase? Were you wearing your short shorts?”

“Everybody lies.”

"You want to know how two chemicals interact, do you ask them? No, they're going to lie through their lying little chemical teeth. Throw them in a beaker and apply heat."

"People like talking about people. Makes us feel superior. Makes us feel in control. And sometimes, for some people, knowing some things makes them care."

"Men are pigs. [They will] pretty much have sex with anyone, fat, skinny, married, single, complete strangers, relatives."

"Our bodies break down, sometimes when we're 90, sometimes before we're even born, but it always happens and there's never any dignity in it. I don't care if you can walk, see, wipe your own ass. It's always ugly. Always. You can live with dignity, we can't die with it."

"Patients always want proof, we're not making cars here, we don't give guarantees."

"Tests take time. Treatment's quicker."

"Pretty much all the drugs I prescribe are addictive and dangerous."

"Idiopathic, from the Latin meaning we're idiots cause we can't figure out what's causing it."

"You know what's worse than useless? Useless and oblivious."

"Tell a surgeon it's okay to cut a leg off and he's going to spend the night polishing his good hacksaw.... they care about their patients. They just care about themselves more. Which is not an unreasonable position. Trying to maximize the tissue you save also maximizes the chances of something going wrong. Which means you've gotta be extra careful. Which is such a pain in the ass."

"Welcome to the end of the thought process."

"...the answer...to life itself: Sex."

"...the fact that the sexual pleasure center of your cerebral cortex has been over-stimulated by spirochetes is a poor basis for a relationship. Learned that one the hard way."

"There's an evolutionary imperative why we give a crap about our family and friends. And there's an evolutionary imperative why we don't give a crap about anybody else. If we loved all people indiscriminately, we couldn't function."

"In this universe effect follows cause. I've complained about it but—" [

"The treatments don't always work. Symptoms never lie."

thirteen: this is Dr. House. He's too brilliant for introductions.

*Thanks to http://thinkexist.com/quotes/dr._gregory_house/ and http://www.housemd-guide.com/characters/houserules.php for the quotes which I soo thoroughly enjoy....

Cain

2009-01-25T14:15:00.000+05:30

With the early sunrise, I am up

In its sleepy glory, I greet it
The soil crumbles, beneath my feet
Saplings, all arranged neatly.

Fruit of the earth
The Lord hath blest it
Sweat of man and
Power of God.

I am Cain, firstborn of Adam
And Eve, my mother
From whose womb I arose
Only to be followed, by Abel.

Day after day, I toil and tumble
Weeds insinuate the earthy depths
The best of which I shall offer Him
My Creator, in Heavens almighty.

But Abel, the weakling he is
Foolishly opens his eyes
To find his sheep wandering
And him, left far behind.

His birth, of no significance to me
An alter persona, compared to me
Father and mother loved him dearly
And for this, I shall repay him surely.

My offering rejected
I stand there, defeated
Abel uplifted by the Lord
Revenge boiled inside me.

"Why has anger risen within you
And your face bowed to the ground
Sin crouches at your door
Overrule its desire"

In the fields it was over
My score atlast settled
Abel be no more
Then He sayeth unto me

"Where is Abel thy brother?"
"I do not know;
Am I my brother's keeper?"
“What have you done?"

"His blood cries out unto me
Cursed are you forever
The earth no longer yielding
A wanderer and fugitive to be"

I am Cain, firstborn of Adam
And Eve, my mother
Standing there, defeated
Seperated from my God

Lost in Translation

2009-01-25T06:52:00.000+05:30

Step quick-quick-slow
Left-right-left-pause
Tap
Right-left-right-pause-
Tap

Spot turn

Our eyes meet, bodies hug
Her hand in mine and copa
We twist and turn
Keep up with the pace

And the music
Don't forget the music
A rhythm
Sensually divine

Step quick-quick-slow
Left-right-left-pause
Tap
Right-left-right-pause-
Tap

You caress my face
Slide down my arm
You shine
An amazing wonder

A circle
Eyes on each other
We twist, we turn
Unfurl

Step quick-quick-slow
Left-right-left-pause
Tap
Right-left-right-pause-
Tap

And thus
The end had neareth
A spot turn
And now we're done

*The dance described is the Salsa.

India Whining

2009-01-17T22:21:00.000+05:30

Once upon a time there was a White man who like other White men had a fascination towards India. Though he was cheap like the rest of us Indians, he decided to make a movie pertaining to the rise of the downtrodden slumdog Indian to the greatest of heights. But as it is when crabs are put together in a bucket, preventing each other from rising, so also the Indians fought against this White man, who had infact made India famous. Famous enough to be recognised by the Golden Globe Society, which decided that this White man should be awarded along with the other Brown people, both of those who acted and made the music of the film. And they did not just stop with one. They gave them four whereas their counterparts from their motherland England gave them eleven nominations at their awards, the BAFTA.

Now what the argumentative, naive and ignorant amongst the smart Indian lot do not realise is by advertising India's poverty makes it richer. Heaven knows how much the tourism industry has prospered simply by the power of yoga and the search for ones inner being.But no, they want foreigners to come and shoot the Developed India. The land of the Bollywood mirch-masala and talk about how it has developed inspite of being raped by its predecessor, the British or by its current politicians.

India is like a diamond. Only once the grit and grime is washes and the stone polished does it shine. But one has to get through the grit and grime first and not vice versa.

So please fellow country people... Think, ponder, understand. Indians are not called smart for nothing...

Stars and lights

2009-01-17T17:55:00.005+05:30

Open my eyes

Turn to the right

Wake up and stretch

Look around my big bedroom

Scenic ocean and palm trees

White sand on my personal beach

Spin around and place my feet

Gucci for my aching soles

Walk to the bathroom

Crystal clear mirror

Six pack abs and tan to fit

Hair messed up but still shiny

Head down to the living room

Across the painting strewn halls

The cleaner salutes me

The butler ushers me in

A hearty breakfast fit for a king

Masterpiece courtesy the chef

Silver forks and spoons

Plates with gold etched edges

Orange juice served in crystal

Appointments read to me

SMS's texted dutifully

Time for another costume change

Clothes laid on my bed

Versace, D&G and the rest

Crafted and tailored

To suit my body perfectly

Cologne dabbed, Aviators donned

They all await me

Chauffeured in my Mercedes

Tinted to deflect the paparazzi

Music fills the vacuum

Calls ring incessantly

Ya ya I'm on my way

Directors, producers, idiots

The door opens, bulbs flash

Out I step into the world

A wave and a wink

Girls faint, some shriek

Scribble upon books
And kiss upon the cheek

The stars and lights

Its all about me
They all want to be me
They all want to do me
Cos being me is their frigging ticket
Away from their damned miseries

LIFE : unfulfilled

2009-01-16T16:16:00.000+05:30

I'm writing this. not at the prime of my life but just at the beginning of it. Born in a middle class family, times went well for all of us. My brothers, strong and handsome were the pride of my parents. My mother told me once, she had actually wished for a girl to follow the two, but they had me instead. "Not that your not wonderful or anything", she'd end, but somehow I knew deep inside, my mama did want a girl. Someone whose hair she could comb and tie into a delicate plait or pulled up as a bun. Someone she could share all her recipes or secrets with. Someone to pass along a long line of saris and jewelry.

But she had me, instead. "Not that your not wonderful or anything". Her dreams of pink ribbons and flowers shattered.

I grew up pudgy and which parent doesn't love that about their child. Their love added on to the excessive calories, I was already feeding and the maid, who'd fervently prepare oil filled dishes, always felt I'd grow up to be a wrestler of sorts since "that's what boys do na... 24 hours fighting offooo... stoppit".

Growing up was lonely as my brothers had left me to continue their studies in the greener fields of the Americas. I was left to learn things the hard way and not have anyone to ask questions to save my parents whom I wouldn't dare ask anything absurd or out of context.

Then I fell in love. Yes, sweet childhood crushes. But not of the ordinary kind. He was also a boy. I can imagine the one who reads this, suddenly having a sudden sickening and screwing up of face expression but, I was young and immature, then and now, but I loved that feeling.

They always say its hard to differentiate between love and infatuation. And fortunately, it was the latter. Nothing really happened between us except practising kissing which we had seen on TV and wanting to see how its done. And we did end up getting caught by the maid which is when we pretended to play a game.

Life continued further from school and finally every parents dream, College. A new place, another challenge. Here again I found someone. And this time, it was love. And again, to a boy.

I smiled, laughed and played along with the feelings I had imagined in my head. Just the same ones as any other normal man would have for a woman. But here it was another man. And somehow everything fell right into place.

Yes, we did get married in style and have a beautiful house to stay in. He'd wake up early in the morning to see my face and caress my cheek. And I did prepare breakfast and feed him and... kiss him goodbye on his way to work.

But like castles of yore, they all came tumbling down, when he said he didn't want to be my friend anymore. If anyone else had said that, I'd probably wouldn't mind. But with the ones you supposedly love, that was a freaking nightmare.

I cried and cried and kept cursing him and the God who made him. "How can you be soo cruel? Where did I go wrong?" these were all the questions I'd ask Him in our conversations only to be answered in silence. " I know its a sin to love another man as I am one, Lord, I really cant bear to sin against you any longer but I really do love him and I really do need him."

Silence, time and amnesia... The three best things one could ask for when suffering from a broken heart. I still see him now. Though we don't talk anymore. Its more of glances to see how each one is doing. And I'm happy that we both have done well so far. Though I have considered Klinefelters or any other genetic abnormality or the powerful wish of a mother which come true in the most horrible of manners to be manifested as a boy to explain my condition.

The title says unfulfilled probably cos I'm supposed to be falling in love with a woman, have children and so on and so forth. But there's still a part of me inside which says, I'll always love him and care for him always.

*Inspired by the movie MILK*

Tilotamma

2009-01-10T12:53:00.000+05:30

Brahma spoke
And I was formed
My name, Tilotamma
Apsara of Indra's court

Whispers, sniggers and jealousy
Evil lined their eyes
Dark as Kohl, were they

But Brahma was gracious
Blest far more than the rest
My beauty knew not its boundaries

Hair, black as a raven
Lips, tender as rose petals
My body, a dew drop enrobed
By lotus leaves.

But Brahma knew far too well
Pride leadeth to a fall
Therefore I was cursed
Far more than the rest

I was not to fall in love.

Until I saw him in the fields.
His bow and glinting arrows
His face kind and gentle
His body, sun kissed

Desire soon took over me.
Surging through my very blood.
But... Brahma knew too well
For I was summoned to Indra's court.

Lightning marked my presence.
Seven mortal lives, he said
Disease and pain, thy ornaments to be
I begged and pleaded
But judgement had been passed.

Listen... Take heed
Brahma knows too well
For I am Tilotamma
Apsara of Indra's court.

The "Bega Bega Bega"Sandwich

2008-12-21T13:45:00.000+05:30

From its so called humble beginnings in the mind frame of a lazy gambler who didn't want to get his cards dirty by dribbly meat or have his ghrelin levels cause him to stop the exciting game of cribbage for want of a measly meal to satisfy him and from laziness was born what we all have come to love today in its various forms The Sandwich.

Well, when the British came down to India, they took a lot of stuff with them and inadvertantly left us with some stuff too. The Sandwich, which surprisingly seems to have applied itself to various contexts of our normal Indian lives.

The best and probably foremost example being the BUS.

Picture this, actually dont cos its the worst possible situation to be in. Its time to leave home for hostel and you keep postponing it for want to finish the food you were eating or completing the blog people soo badly want to read and criticise you later for it. Standing at the bus stop, there's not many people giving you the feeling of probably another lazy day for our hardworking people.
Waiting and waiting, finally it arrives.

Hanging outside the doors mostly at the rear end, stick like men grapple to hold onto the motor monster which rides at speeds known only in video games or formula ones. You must be wondering whats all this gotto do with the sandwich but im getting there so hold on.

Notice the following pictures

Notice from top to down the Club Sandwich, the French bread sandwich with fries and the Philly Cheese Steak Sandwich all have their fillings pouring over and mopre specifically to the side.

The next thing is the way we Indians have learnt to fit into the damned monster. How meticulously we 'fit', if i may use the word lightly (though its more of tug, push, pull, mould thereby ultimately resulting in a fit). The same principle is applied when fat people or thin people grown fat ,while trying on a new pair of jeans ,which they absolutely have to fit into, since you want it soo bad and not to forget, its on sale!!)

Yes, the arrangement is kinda the same as above, but just more filled up. Just like they say keep your friends close and enemies closer, and it tends to get real close sometimes. I've sometimes felt victimised ass... i mean as i stand there being randomly poked by a fellow man from behind. My friends think I'm a drama queen and simply sensationalize issues to make my life seem more interesting but apart from the truth, I stand there, waiting to get to hostel.

If your lucky to not be poked from behind, you surely wont miss the jab of sweat mixed with extraordinary oils of the unknown from the arm pits of your fellow passenger. As Russell Peters lightly yet assertively put it Indians are stinky people cos we'r hairy and therefore by all means need to apply deo or some form of stench repellent, not only for sanitary reasons but for social as well.

There are soo many other things which happen in a bus ride but im sure you would be bored by now.

So here's a tribute to all the Sandwiches of the World..DROOL :)

A Dagwood Sandwich

The worlds largest hotdog

BLT

Breakfast Roll, Scotland

Croque-monsieur, France

Franscesinha, Portugal

Souvlaki, Greek

Torta, Mexico

Hoagie Hero Sub Sandwich

Smorgastarta, Sweden

Shawarma, Middle east

Roti John, Singapore & Malaysia

Po'boy, New Orleans

Peanut butter and jelly sandwich

Jumbo Vada Pav

Pastrami from the Hat

Reuban Sandwich, USA

Monte-Cristo sandwich

Thanks to wikimedia for all the pictures.
Shawarma thanks to flickr.com and the sardines when i find out where i got it from.. soon

Rāvaṇa

2008-12-20T14:45:00.002+05:30

Sparks of light flit across raven skies
Thunder announces their arrival
Puffs of smoke, splash upon
Chandra's cratered shore.

Green, now rain kissed
The earth, exudes its fragrance
Animals of the air take shelter
While those on earth lie and wait.

The city of Lanka, the city of gold
Of great size and even greater beauty was it, to behold
Seven moats surrounded it.
Seven walls of gems and metal, protected it.

Rakshasas, protectors of Amrit's deep waters
Now lay asleep in their homes.
Of every shape and form were they.
Some, disgusted the eye, whilst some were beautiful to gaze upon.

Safely concealed on the island
A tear drop, nestled upon the oceans cheek
Beauty singed with Greed's desire
Ruler of it all

Rāvaṇa, he of terrifying roar
Ten crowned and twenty fisted.
His cuprous eyes shone,
His blue blood surged,for more

Seas cringe and mountains shiver
Even the sun and moon cowered
In his benevolent majesty's presence
None could withstand, not even the gods.

His palace swept clean by Vayu, the god of wind
Ambrosia prepared by Agni, the god of fire
Water to quench his thirst by Varuna, lord of the ocean
And Kuvera, the god of wealth, his money supply.

Rāvaṇa, he of terrifying roar
Ten crowned and twenty fisted was he.
Sowing his malignant seeds
Of mischief and evil in thee.

Mighty King of the Asuras
Dictator of human and divine races
None, could withstand his power
None, not even, the gods.

Thanks to

First pic : flickr.com/photos/davidcphotography/2616865190/

My baby shot me down...

2008-12-02T13:02:00.000+05:30

"Bang Bang, he shot me down,
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down."

The words of the American song I had heard on the radio, played over and over,in my head. The news channels in their frenzy, covered every bit of what gruesome atrocity had taken place. And worst of all... it was my son who was responsible.

"God has blessed us, my dear" my husband said to me. Indeed He had. For years we had been trying and now finally I had in my arms, God's very own angel. He was beautiful. His rubicund lips, his kissable cheeks, snow white skin and glowing eyes, all announced his exit from heaven to earth's door and that too, I was the lucky one to receive him.

Born as the middle child, I was often forgotten amongst the other fourteen of my brothers and sisters. But my time had come when I was 12. I was engaged to this handsome man. "He's a professor at the the University" they all told me. "You're very lucky to get him" and my eyes shied away from their naughty glares.

The untimely death of our first born, weighed heavily on both of us. Depression rearing its ugly head wherever we looked."We'll get through this, my dear" my husband said and with that we survived.

His growing years were tiresome but one of the best years in my life. Who knew God's little angel was such a shaitaan. But in the end we always melted, giving in to his every desire.We loved him so dearly. My sweet little boy.

After school he had got admission in a college in the city.He decided it was best to stay on campus and promised to visit every week.My husband sat him down to discuss the various procedures involved for the hostel and tried to coax his son into taking the subject he taught at University, English. But our boy was stubborn and engineering was all what he ever wanted to do.

Packing his bags, tears filled my eyes as I placed a photo of all of us at the beach. Such wonderful times those were, when we were all together. And now it was time for the bird to fly away from his nest.I stand there at the entrance awaiting his return.

"This now come in. Local authorities have identified the person who is an engineering student at the the University. He along with his group of 3 others held hostage 25 people in the college building and had threatened to kill each of the hostages if their demands were not met."

How could he have done this? What went missing in all the love we had provided him. He was such a happy child and was kind and considerate to others. But now... he was a murderer.My own flesh and blood... a terror to mankind.

I wish I had never let you go. You would have been safe here with me, instead of having your mind poisoned by those bad boys. I want to hold you again in my arms. But how can I, for now your arms are blood stained with the lives of many.

I love you, my son... And I forgive you... Please come back to me...

"Now he's gone, I don't know why
And till this day, sometimes I cry
He didn't even say goodbye
He didn't take the time to lie.

Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down..."

Thank you to http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/killbill/bangbangmybabyshotmedown.htm for helping me with the lyrics.

Some interesting finds on the net for World AIDS day

2008-12-02T12:58:00.000+05:30

Aids Doesn't Kill. Your Attitude Kills.
By Nikhil Parekh

Compassionately shaking hands with them; wont in anyway enshroud every
ingredient of your blood with the most unforgivably cancerous of disease;
wont in anyway annihilate you forever and ever and ever from the trajectory
of this fathomless Universe,

Profusely intermingling your shadow with theirs; wont in anyway diminish you
beyond the threshold of disparagingly dolorous oblivion; wont in anyway
obfuscate your integrity with the clouds of tawdry salaciousness,

Tirelessly talking with them; wont in anyway make you the most delinquently
inferior organism on this boundless earth; wont in anyway char your
inimitably distinctive identity,

Amiably kissing them on their rubicund lips; wont in anyway evaporate every
ounce of immunity from your body; wont in anyway transform you into the most
treacherously cursed entity alive,

Uninhibitedly fondling their silken hair; wont in anyway jinx you with even
the most infinitesimal parasite on this limitless earth; wont in anyway
trounce you to your dolorously fetid grave,

Mischievously nibbling at their innocuous ears; wont in anyway numb each of
your senses to even the tiniest trace of sound; wont in anyway engulf each
brilliant day of yours with hopelessly asphyxiating blackness,

Jubilantly adventuring with them in the inscrutable forests; wont in anyway
sap you of untamed powerhouse of effulgent energy; wont in anyway make you
an impotent pinch of mud fretting for an infinite lifetimes,

Profoundly staring into the whites of their impeccable eyes; wont in anyway
blind you forever from every conceivable iota of pleasure and panoramic
light; wont in anyway pulverize you into inanely impoverished nothingness,

Eclectically sketching their harmlessly nimble silhouette; wont in anyway
vengefully deteriorate you into a pool of insipid nothingness; wont in
anyway render you as the most ignominiously slandered artist alive,

Holistically eating with them in the same bowl; wont in anyway metamorphose
you into an ocean of endlessly lambasting tears; wont in anyway inundate the
walls of your stomach with venomously aggrieved poison rather than the
celestial fruits of the Creator Divine,

Unflinchingly entwining your fingers into theirs; wont in anyway
horrendously deplete you of every ounce of your strength; wont in anyway
impede you from symbiotically coalescing with the rest of eternally
fructifying living kind,

Sleeping impregnably close to them to shelter them at night; wont in anyway
grant you a place in the most vindictively unsparing of hell; wont in anyway
prematurely bury you a countless feet beneath your veritable grave,

Flirtatiously tickling their nubile skin; wont in anyway hang you upside
down in the most brilliantly blazing of Sunlight; wont in anyway seal every
other synergistically untainted option for you in the chapter of resplendent
life,

Wholeheartedly embracing them as one of your own kin; wont in anyway
perpetuate in you the germs of the most ominously tyrannical of disease;
wont in anyway render you satanically crippled for the remainder of your
life,

Affably conserving each droplet of their golden sweat in your palms; wont in
anyway erase the spell binding destiny lines of your existence; wont in
anyway proclaim you as a preposterously shameful misfit for the fabric of
society,

Altruistically applying the balm of humanity on their inexplicable wounds;
wont in anyway assassinate every bit of harmonious knowledge that you had so
wonderfully assimilated since the first cry of birth; wont in anyway torment
you even after you died,

Uninhibitedly drinking water from their unfinished glass; wont in anyway
transform every ingredient of your Omnipotent blood into unbearably
vindictive venom; wont in anyway truculently slain the royal seeds of
virility from your endowed life,

Unceasingly enlightening them with the magical artistry in your persona;
wont in anyway endanger even the most diminutive shade of existence on the
perennial planet; wont in anyway transform you into a sinful eunuch wailing
the last words of your life,

Unassailably blending every breath of yours with theirs; wont in anyway
defeat you the slightest in any philanthropic quest of your blessed life;
wont in anyway abruptly snap the fangs of your miraculously proliferating
existence,

Immortally bonding every beat of your heart with theirs; wont in anyway make
you the most abhorred criminal of this globe; wont in anyway metamorphose
every definition of true love into sadistically betraying hatred,

Paradoxically; whereas doing all the above things with them wont in anyway
harm you the tiniest; but their not receiving the same from you would
definitely make them die the most ghastliest of death; a death which would
not be a result of their suffering from HIV/AIDS, but an extinction which
would be the most horrifically gruesome; a death which would be the most
perpetually criminal; caused due to opprobrious disdain and neglect by you;
you and only you; who was none other than their uncaring fellow human
kind...

UNTITILED

If I could tell HIV how I feel
I would tell it that it destroys lives.
Breaking apart families.
Robbing lives that aren't theirs.
Having people live with struggle, pain
sickness, sorrow and nothing else left in their mind.
If I could tell HIV how I feel
I would tell it to go away.
Never return.
I would tell it that it
makes people blind with their tears
and deaf with their screaming
If I could tell HIV how I feel
then it would listen,
bringing back lives that were killed,
families that were torn apart,
and homes that were sweet.
I know just because you have HIV
doesn't mean it's the end of the
world, but in return you can
never stop thinking about it.

Eileen Rosado, age 15

The Seven Avatars

2008-10-27T18:46:00.000+05:30

Since I was small I had this idea of choreographing a dance which would include my favorite actresses and i have been waiting ever since for that dream to come true. The dance was supposed to take place at a prestigious event where the whole of the Bollywood community would be there and try to take in the extravaganza presented to them by moi.

Ive stuck to my obsession of the seven deadly sins.

So I kinda thought I'd reveal to you all who I think are perfect for the role and hopefully someday, someone famous reads this and tries to contact me to say "I wanna make this happen and I want you to be in charge of it"

Presenting to you, The Seven Avatars.The music to which this whole experience takes place is a song from Mynta which I also have developed a craze to obtain it since it was danced to by my puc college dance team but unfortunately to this day I am clueless of its name.
Enjoy...

Luxuria/Lust - Shilpa Shetty or Nicole Scherzinger or Prianka Chopra

Gula/Gluttony - Asin

Avaritia/Greed - Kareena Kapoor

Acedia/Sloth - Deepika Padukone

Ira/Wrath - Sushmita Sen

Invidia/Envy - Bipasha Basu

Superbia/Pride - Aishwarya Rai Bachchan

Thanks to the following sites for having hosted the wonderful images. Its amazing especially to see Atul Kasbekar's photos which are real imaginative and out of this world.

Shilpa Shetty s2 add (blogs.theasiannews.co.uk)
Nicole (www.sareedreams.com/2008/09/rocky-sdesihits-do-the-impossible-cover-up-pussycat-dolls-in-sarees/)
Asin (hubpages.com, urdutech.com)
Kareena (bollywoodbuzz.in)
Deepika (funandfunonly.in, zimbio.com)
Sushmita Sen (itgo.in, beautifulpeopleindia.com, desibabesworld.com)
Aishwarya (timezone.com, askmakeupguru.com, google.co.in, askmen.com, photobucket.com)
Bipasha (ggpht.com,bollywoodforu.com,hotbollywoodactrees.net,bollywood-stars.net)

what if the grass isnt really green on the other side?

2008-10-25T22:17:00.002+05:30

Im not sure if many of you'll have this thought that maybe your friends life is much more happening than yours. Ive been plagued by guilt ever since the time I was compared to the other kids, another annoying Indian tradition passed on from generation to generation.

Do people really seem to be having the times of their lives, ever single day?

I know i have some fun days and some really crap days where I'd just be sitting on my bed wondering why I'm in such a college or in a boring place.

Girls according to me have everything made for them. Its like when i was in Goa and we were having such a big problem for 6 stags to get in since it was a couples night whereas single girls can jus shake their stuff while carefully balancing on their manolos and as a cruel punishment be surrounded by desperate stags, speaking of which tried to show me that they were not as sad as me even though dancing with the girls behind is not very convincing especially if her front is being occupied by another man who she really 'is' dancing with.

But i guess dancing in the club would hardly matter unless you were hooking up with a drunk lady/man and just know somebody is gonna get lucky tonight.

The worst part is that when you really start thinking about this stuff that all the bad stuff that happened in your life suddenly feels that they can come and crash your feelin down partay, well atleast in my case.

Depression, thy name is most hated. Be gone, you three headed dragon. Hatred, Malice and Jealousy.

Five point five - What do we do in MBBS?

2008-10-25T22:16:00.002+05:30

I’ve always felt the world of doctors has always been surrounded by this thick dense cloud of ignorance. Heck I didn’t even know about it until well how I can I put this nicely… until I was ‘talked’ into it. Although my mom never felt I was engineering material and frankly speaking so did I.

For those who know nothing about this course let me give you an intro into the making of another edition of the already widely circulated lot in the world today.

MBBS as our teachers say is not really for smart people. Anyone can do it, it just requires common sense. But this is really a debatable topic as it doesn’t seem to be the viewpoint when you arrive for the clinical postings, where you shall be expected to have read the entire book on how to examine a patient from head to toe. And oh yes, it’s not just the outside but the working of the inner organs too.

Based on my experience, clinics is definitely not a fun place to be in unless you are those types who love to examine a patient who just happens to have the ‘classical’ findings of a textbook case. Yes, I did hang around those types for two reasons… 1. They knew Kannada which I have faithfully kept aside as a language I cannot learn, though I do understand what they are saying.. kinda…. And 2. being with the smart ones ensures your also part of the smart crew and be left early since they will be answering most of the questions while you hover like a shadow in the background.

Yes it does get kinda irritating, though im not complaining, as the workout of running up and down five sets of stairs, in search of either a doctor to present your case to or juniors who have taken the register with them and the person who has to mark your attendance has very little patience since its close to lunch break, has been helpful in removing unnecessary pounds which have accumulated over the weekend.

Another phenomenon noticed in med colleges are the transformation of the ugly ducking to a beautiful swan, which affects both sexes equally.

This may be due to the fact that some girls do get engaged or married either during their course or during internship. That’s when the frequent visits to VLCC or the straightening of hair or the eureka moment of learning to apply just the right amount of make up so you don’t end up looking like a call girl. For the guys on the other hand, there’s the loss of weight from first year since hostel food sucks or the pretty physiotherapy chick who hasn’t noticed you… yet, along with the change from specs to contacts and the laborious management of both brain, during classes and brawn, at the gym.

With 5.5 years spent in studying the various systems and how to manage the ‘lay man’, we reach the crowning moment when we are pronounced Doctors with our steths wrapped around our necks like a noose at the gallows. Its time for the epidural and the contractions begin.

And out into the world we go, having been delivered out from the womb of our college, crying, kicking and screaming.

Cuppa joy

2008-10-25T22:09:00.001+05:30

Bubbles rising to kiss the surface,
A spoon of coffee added,
It swirls in the most psychedelic fashion,
A brown beauty in the making.

The milk is next,
They mix and match,
A yin-yang,
Till coffee wins the tussle.

White and black,
The sugar and cardamom is next,
Their entrée arousing Aroma,
Who rises up in smoky splendor.

Once ready,
Into their porcelain throne they retire,
Where I wait,
Soaking in the goodness of this wonderful experience.

PS the preferred setting for the above may be imagined to be a window sill overlooking the marine on a wet weekend or a comfortable sofa which has memorized your every curve and bump or if you're living the good life, a lazy boy ;)

Status quo ante

2008-10-25T22:08:00.000+05:30

'The state of things as it was before'
(an experiment on the mind of a Woman and also do notice the incorporation of the Seven deadly sins which I seem to have taken a fancy for)

I cared for you, perhaps a bit too much.
Your every word rehearsed in my head
The nights I spent thinking of you
Of us…

When loves band would bind us
My hand nestled in yours
The holy fire pronouncing us
Man and wife

The moon looks away
As two lovers unite
Your lips, my breasts
My all belonging to you

As I awake, your sight comforts me
My finger runs down to your lips
Fortunate am I of all women to have you
My be all and end all

As I sit at my desk, your thoughts consume me
My mind feasting on every detail
As I wait for you to pass my room
A glance is all but necessary

I skip my friend’s invites
For I long to be with you
You are all that I need right now
My life saving blood

The more time I spend with you
The more I have to re-enact in my room
You must think i'm silly
But that’s how much I value you

Your friends surround you
I don’t mind at first
But then you leave me
For their greater appeal

My thoughts kept racing
What are you up to now?
In their room you while away
Leaving me left behind

I wait and wait
But you never come
Often returning when I sleep
Come see me, my darling

Days pass
And when I ask
You burst out saying you can’t take it anymore
I don’t think we can be together

It’s those damn friends of yours I think
Their poison infiltrated your mind
I love you my darling unlike them
Ill always be by you

Months pass and silence between us grows
As you leave for your home
I cry in my bed,
Awaiting when you shall return

When you see me afterwards
I look the other way
Even I have the right to be immature
But I wait for you to console me

Days later we start talking
My gloom washed away with laughter
My smile gives a lot away
To all who see me, reunited with my love
And then she came
You say she’s a friend
But why do you have to be soo close to her
Why write on tables during class

As I see you from the corner
You seem to share with her everything
She has taken all what belongs to me
My wrath knows no end

What does she have that I don’t?
Looks, body, what?
Does she think about you day and night?
Does she want to have your children?

Does she want to grow old with you?
No, but I do
Greener and greener I grow
Her sight disgusts me

Harder and harder I try
To improve what I am to get you
But you’re always dragged away
By your friends and her….

It’s been months since we’ve spoken
I prefer it that way
Though you comment about me
I suffer your loss in silence

I love you my….
I always will
As another day passes
I will go on…... Without you

Count your blessings

2008-10-25T22:07:00.002+05:30

Medical researchers have done it again. But this time it’s not for the good of the Indian kind. They have finally found out that being good at maths is genetically determined. That means that the fate of millions of students, well to be truthful Indian students, with their parents being narrow minded (generally speaking) and the eventual choice of profession being either a doctor or an engineer. I can’t imagine the crease in our foreheads revealing our life’s duty. Does that mean my attitude towards my profession is also genetically determined??

I remember at a particular psychiatry conference I had attended, where the doctor had mentioned “being smart is not really the amount of work you put in but how much of smartness quotient, your genes have left you with” to which I may inform you had left him being pounded with questions by various students who still cling onto the hope of ‘mera hard work Mahan’.

On this note, id like to offer a silent prayer for all those unfortunate students, who though may be good or bad in math’s, who may enjoy learning about the human body or not, who enjoy doing arts or other recently evolved subjects. May their parents realize that the decision should be left to your kids and not on what the general ‘relative’ population think you should be. Be it decided by your genes or not.

When beauty killed the beast

2008-10-25T22:07:00.001+05:30

My body is not exactly Herculean but working towards one always has been. With the advent of new and improved exercises and the banishing of old ones I find myself in a fix of what to do each day. Should I crunch away the tire or burn it with intense cardio? These are the questions which haunt me despite the fact I have been ahem ranging from the extremes of the carefully constructed Body Mass Index chart. My genes and sometimes jeans have unfortunately not been kind to me. Neither has my satiety centre.

With my total intake being more than the expected output I wonder why my body does this to me. What famine are you preparing me for, damn it??

Anyways i've come to terms with letting bye gones be bye gones and baby fat be added on to my adult fat.

My life continues, with the tumultuous waves of calories and fat lashing against my abdomen, as I sing “you’re my honeybunch, sugarplum, pumpy yummy pumpkin; you’re my sweety pie….”

The Art of Presentation

2008-10-25T22:02:00.000+05:30

There comes a time in a medical student's life when he jumps over the fence from first year into his neighbours garden which over here is second year... duhhh... its also the time when he/she has to cram up for four subjects instead of three... And then there is the introduction to the clinics... ive often noticed how the first years suddenly act all big when they come this side... maybe its the false impression of the innumerable responsibility that they are the saviours without whom the poor patients would rot... but thankfully that feeling doesnt last long... kudos to the medicine staff and also the founders of the damn subject Clinical medicine for the transformation... Fascinating as it is for the variety of diseases it has to offer one often wonders when the madness does stop...

"Comin to the" a line heard soo often dring presentations its kind off surprising the staff doesnt want to wring our necks with the steth or inject us with a lytic cocktail... no its not alcohol for all u "lay" people...its 1 ml contains pethidine 28 mg, promethazine 7 mg, chlorpromazine 7 mg... jus a minute.. feeling of superiority comin thru for knowin that... ok fine... i looked it up.. hope ur happy??? so where were we...

Ahh yes... being in final year means all the juniors look upto u... to make the first move... know all the details about the cases in the wards... know how to examine the patients... make the patients, the snakes that they are after a billion people examine them, dance to the tune of ur flute... yes, we are the demi-gods who rule the wards... the omnipotents...

Since we do stuff in roll no. order... presentations are no different... it prevents the people who happen to get sick when its their turn in order to escape the staff who's not goin to listen to you but instead shoot you with soo many questions you wish you went into a syncopal attack soon...

One fine day it happened to be my turn and with the help of my trusty.. read NERDY friend N I did manage to ring a patient...

Presenting the case of Mr.Muhammed... Aged 18/20/22/28 highly dependant on who asked him... working as a wholesale glass dealer... residing in mangalore... and admitted over here on the 29th of last month... he came with chief complaints of blah blah blah blah blah... enough of the details but jus to give a glimpse of how it all begins... in front of the teacher that is... but this is how it actually began...

Sunday evening sitting in my room.. all alone cos A, my roommate went to Qatar to renew his visa... but thats when duck comes along to chat... he claims to have an amazingly fun life which by the way consists of sleeping, reading an occasional novel, sleeping, playing games on his roommate J's laptop and yes some more sleeping.. sorry duck, but you know its true...

Anyways along comes N who always manages to come at the right time... that is when someone is having a snack in the room or in this case when duck and i are bitching about something/ someone...

N is the typical narrow minded Malayalee... Though I do support his claim that all Mangis are hot looking people... I disagree with his Mangi girls only fall for Mal guys though that seems to be the situation in our college... oh ya..i forgot to mention he's also very studious... yes, i know the word is nerd but me being compassionate n all will spare the sarcasm... Being the MAL WHO IS GREAT/SUPERIOR he also happens to know of this Aortic regurgitation (AR) case which got admitted... which was supposed to be all hush hush to prevent other units from presenting him since we found him first... hmph in ur face A, B and D unit... though its kinda scary how he finds out about this stuff... being a sunday and all...

Monday morning finds us a the nurses station waiting for the nurses to change the sheets of the patients bed... quickly we go through his case sheet making note of the point of him being diagnosed with AR, 2 weeks back... he sees us... we see him... time to go in for the kill... as we head up to him N starts off his questioning and me the examining... with time at the essence we ask him all the usual stuff... auscultate a little.. find out what murmurs he has.. and then retreat back to class thereby announcing our kill... and if humans would piss to mark their territiory.. im pretty sure we would have done that too... Thankfully the other units already had their own cases and were just interested in auscultating him...

Well it took me a week to present my case since our l ward was recently trauma stricken... but i did it to Dr. E.K B... An amazing little man who has more stamina than all mbbs students put together... Its crazy seeing him climbing all the sets of stairs in search for students to teach... And im grateful to him for correcting my mistakes...

Im also sorry about Muhammed... who apparently was told he doesnt have a heart problem and who kept getting pissed as batch after batch kept auscaltating him... i hope he does get well soon with the meds provided to him...

P.S Vics said that I jump from one topic to another and that its not in order... i think ill keep it that way since thats how i am and my life for not exactly being in order... :

Spider Naevi

2008-10-25T21:57:00.000+05:30

"Carl... you should decide now what you want to do... see im telling you to take medicine. It 'll be nice since we have only 2 doctors in the family... and it ll be a matter of pride when we see you as a big doctor some day...."

what you read just now is the deep yearning and constant nagging of every... well almost every .... Indian parent out there.... It’s crazy how each Indian parent would love their kids to grow up in a world of drugs, disease and black/grey/maroon/lavender/ you could pretty much add what color you feel like stethoscope around your neck... Mine is the same story as of a few others who have been resistant to their parents hypnotizing... and this is gonna be a long ranting :)

30,000 feet above the Arabian Sea... No... there isn’t any spy plane hovering over or a secret spy being dispatched for duty or a romantic... read as filthy rich... chartered plane flying over the sea so ones lover could have a glimpse of the full moon... which may appear hazy for some cos of the alcohol intake but whatever.... mine was a well... a journey of a spoilt kid into the world of Hippocrates...

Having joined the hostel which still happens to be where I am at was my first time out of my nest formed by Arabian delights of Abu Dhabi from where I had come from to an extremely hot and humid hot bed of.... well in case you didn’t know... Mangalore is known for its malaria :)

15th August... India's Independence Day... So as any shrewd caterer to the hostel means a day of serving unsuspecting newbie’s tasty tasty biriyani rice with fried kabab, raitha and chicken curry the sense of a... no not 5 star.... maybe 3 or 2 or 1 star hotel... the rating highly dependent on how fabulous your life was before you joined the hostel...

The meeting up of batch mates was uneventful. the waiting for your roommate to join... the who will my roommate be... the how early should I get up to use the toilet... the how can I change in front of my roommate... all these doubts came into my mind to be frank... which is does seem silly now but I was young and dumb... the gulf does that to people.. It feeds you and spoils you to the extent of floating in a black hole of no return....

Couldn’t sleep at all that day... don’t know whether it was of the oily food or the adrenaline going around doing its business of getting my hopes up for a new day of class to begin...

4am the alarm rang and yes I did get up... completed my chores and got down to getting ready for breakfast... the breakfast Q formation I feel is the best way for your seniors to get a low down of who's joined the hostel... fortunately I wasn’t caught... despite the weight I was... ahem 100 kilos... not proud of it... but that WAS how much I weighed BEFORE...

Cut scene to first day of class... if my memory serves me right the first class was anatomy... although extremely fascinating to the so called 'lay man' which by the way I find is kind of a derogatory term instituted by doctors who try to act superior to mankind and a frequently used word by the staff...

First year offers 3 subjects : Anatomy, Physiology n Biochemistry

Anatomy as everyone may or may not know is the study of the constituents of the body which can be widely appreciated by the innumerable dissection classes one has to attend in the afternoon after being fed improperly cooked fish curry and then led to a formalin drenched room... trust me the experience is not worth it... then there is the 640 muscles... their every origin, insertion, nerve supply and action and of course the applied anatomy...

I remember one particular dissection where after having completely ravaged the pancreas in search for a particular duct said he couldn’t find it... Oh ya I forgot another interesting note about formalin... this solvent invented to preserve human parts is most easily the most offending thing available to ones nose and skin alike... the days we all used to return to hostel and have dinner with our hands still smelling of formalin despite repeated washes thereby resulting in all of us having wrinkled hands...

The dissection hall we have is pretty big... which means tat sometimes some mischief is possible but only by those who dare cos the staff of anatomy are more to feared off rather than the fathers who run the place... we all used to sit at our designated tables according to our roll numbers and await for the gang to arrive... once they entered it was just like a scene from the movies preferably kaante where u have these big dudes who no one would dare mess with... and yes after they sat down the routine roll call... and then they used to begin...