Saturday, May 31, 2003

They think that they’re smarter
With words they play games
Comments longer than the posts itself
What’s up? People with no names!
More gibberish

Once there lived a girl
Not great, but decent looking
Her one tooth was like a pearl
And her mind was always cooking
How could she manage to make
All the other teeth shiny and nice
Then someone told her “take
The blood and paste of lice
Clean your teeth with that
And they’ll be shiny as before
It’ll help if the lice are fat
And do it with open windows and door.”
So she did and rubbed her teeth
Hopelessly and in vain
Her temper began to seethe
And she was going insane
Nothing helped at all
Her teeth as brown as ever
Suddenly an idea struck her tall
At last she turned clever
She called a painter man
And got her teeth painted white
She danced and did a can-can
And now all her teeth shine bright

The nose can run and the feet can smell
There can be frogs inside a drinking well
The sky can be red and blood can be blue
You could be me and I could be you

Roses can be black and hair can be red
There could be monsters under your bed
A dusty road and pebbles in your food
A polite person suddenly rude

Humans in the jungle, and animals in the city
A toothless, skin-wrinkled woman so pretty
Nothing I say makes any sense
But this is how I’ll speak forth hence

Friday, May 30, 2003

If blood will flow when flesh and steel are one
Drying in the colour of the evening sun
Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away
But something in our minds will always stay
Perhaps this final act was meant
To clinch a lifetime's argument
That nothing comes from violence and nothing ever could
For all those born beneath an angry star
Lest we forget how fragile we are
On and on the rain will fall
Like tears from a star like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are how fragile we are
On and on the rain will fall
Like tears from a star like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are how fragile we are
How fragile we are how fragile we are
~ Sting
It’s a wonder we’re not all raving violent maniacs. Our introduction to violence started pretty early in our lives. Good things never happened to good people.
Remember Jack and Jill? Jack, who had fallen and broken his crown, and Jill had soon tumbled after! What about the sweet little egg-like Humpty Dumpty? Neither the King’s horses nor his men could put Humpy together again. The blackbird that swooped down and pecked off the maid’s nose. And the poor little cutie piggy? What was his fault? The stupid engine had to come and break his bones and then the bl**dy engine driver has the nerve to say “I don’t care!” And these were the poems we were made to repeat again and again. Even when we watched TV for respite, we had to see a nasty cat, Tom, forever scheming, trying to catch and eat sweet little Jerry!
It’s a wonder we’re not all raving violent maniacs.

Thursday, May 29, 2003

Everything is an illusion
Everything that we think we see
There is silence all around us
No chirping of birds, no buzzing of the bee

There is no colour anywhere
Not even black or white
There exists no planet or universe
No day and no night

No happiness, no sorrow
No pain in one’s heart
No life, no death
No end and no start

You’re an illusion
And so am I
We are not alive
And we shall never die
What’s the point of living if we are to die one day?
What’s the point of dying if we are not living anyway?

Wednesday, May 28, 2003

~Ogden Nash
Foreigners are people somewhere else,
Natives are people at home;
If the place you're at
Is your habitat,
You're a foreigner, say in Rome.
But the scales of Justice balance true,
And tit leads into tat,
So the man who's at home
When he stays in Rome
Is abroad when he's where you're at.
When we leave the limits of the land in which
Our birth certificates sat us,
It does not mean
Just a change of scene,
But also a change of status.
The Frenchman with his fetching beard,
The Scot with his kilt and sporran,
One moment he
May a native be,
And the next may find him foreign.
There's many a difference quickly found
Between the different races,
But the only essential
Is living different places.
Yet such is the pride of prideful man,
From Austrians to Australians,
That wherever he is,
He regards as his,
And the natives there, as aliens.
Oh, I'll be friends if you'll be friends,
The foreigner tells the native,
And we'll work together for our common ends
Like a preposition and a dative.
If our common ends seem mostly mine,
Why not, you ignorant foreigner?
And the native replies
And hence, my dears, the coroner.
So mind your manners when a native, please,
And doubly when you visit
And between us all
A rapport may fall
Ecstatically exquisite.
One simple thought, if you have it pat,
Will eliminate the coroner:
You may be a native in your habitat,
But to foreigners you're just a foreigner.

A tiny lamp glows in the corner
Darkness engulfing the rest of the room
I sit at the other end
Unsure whether I should move
My eyes unaccustomed, blink afflicted
I am so habituated to the dark
To the black that surrounds me
The cold comfort of nothingness
Then why is the light calling out to me?
Luring me to its flame
Will I get burned, once again?

Monday, May 26, 2003

Theirs was a match made in heaven. The perfect couple! It was taken for granted that they would marry right after college, the moment they got their jobs. They had been together from almost the first day of college.
And then he went back home for his second year term break. And he met her. A childhood friend he had not seen in many years. Unwantingly he was drawn to her and he fell irreversibly and irrevocably in love. Not knowing what to tell his girl-friend, he ran away with her to a nearby town and married her in a small village temple. The love-struck couple, joy in their hearts, came back to their home town to inform their family about their marriage. He still didn’t know what he would tell his girl-friend. He dropped her on the highway and gazed at her as she crossed the road, exchanging meaningful glances when she turned back to look at him.
He never saw the truck approaching. She tried to warn him but he couldn’t understand. As she ran towards him screaming he turned around to see the truck. It all happened in a split-second, but the moment seemed to have got stuck. He saw her being hit by the truck and he watched helplessly, for he had been moving away from it and could not have turned back to help her, his momentum carrying him away. It was yet another hit and run accident. He ran towards her. She lay on the road in a pool of blood. He held her hand, sobbing uncontrollably, as she died. A huge crowd had gathered by then. He got up then, the crowd pushing him aside, and walked away. He never looked back. He went back to college and continued his life as before.
He has been married to his girl-friend for 2 years now and has still not told her.

Saturday, May 24, 2003

Hazy memories of childhood
Haunt me in my dreams
Of uninhibited laughter
Running in fields green

Barefoot on the grass
Sitting in circles round
Whispering in giggles
Tiptoeing to make no sound

Broken toys and violent tears
Comfort in Papa’s arms
Mamma’s sweet smile
Learning how to dance

A tune in my head
Plays again and again
Where have I heard it before
My past that I try to grasp in vain?

Friday, May 23, 2003


Person 1: So how often do you manage to do it?
Person 2: Not too often now. Earlier I used to do it almost every day.
Person 1: What stops you from doing it more often?
Person 2: I guess I have got busy with work. So no time for the smaller pleasures in life. Make that greater pleasures in life.
Person 1: So who do you enjoy doing it with?
Person 2: A friend. It’s always more enjoyable doing it with a friend.
Person 1: Do you prefer a girl or a boy?
Person 2: It doesn’t make a difference as long as it’s a friend.
Person 1: Would you rather do it in a group?
Person 2: Yes, that could be fun. But it depends on the crowd really!
Person 1: When did you do it last?
Person 2: Oh it’s been a while now. Maybe a couple of weeks or more.
Person 1: How often have you done it in the past one year?
Person 2: Like I said I’ve got busy. Not too often. Maybe 20-30 times.
Person 1: When do you do plan do to it next?
Person 2: I am going to Bombay for the weekend, so I guess it’ll be this weekend.
Person 1: What is the best time?
Person 2: Right now, it’s too hot to do it in the day. Early morning or late at night would be the best time.
Person 1: So, what is it about riding that you love so much?
Person 2: I love the feeling. I can let go. Feel the powerful engine between my legs.

Engine? What a jerk, I thought.
Anyways, as it turns out later they were talking about riding bikes. So much for jumping to conclusions!

Thursday, May 22, 2003

It’s not enough to have life; you need to have a lifestyle.
~Adrian Mole

True True! I mean, what does it take to have a life? Air, food, water and sex. A lifestyle is a different ballgame altogether.

Urban: Polluted air is in. The more the polluted, the larger the city, the better the lifestyle.
Rural: The air’s pretty much polluted here too. But then, you’re making a statement here. I want to breathe fresh air!
The society and environment conscious semi-urban/rural: These are people who want it all. The late nights of the city just an hour’s drive away and a sprawling house to entertain your guests. The air? Much better than the city!

Urban: Multi-cuisine!
Never had sushi? How are you still alive?
Chinese? No not maggi!. I meant pak choi.
My children live on cookies and pizzas! Unhealthy? Pooh!

Rural: Try living in a village in India. You eat whatever is in season. And you only eat that. Justification: Everything does not sell, and you definitely can’t throw the rest! So keep eating parwal throughout summer.
The society and environment conscious semi-urban/rural: Health is wealth or didn’t you know! Boiled and baked foods. Another lifestyle statement?!!

Aqua Guard rocks!
Rural: The sweetest water ever comes from wells, filtered in local-made filters.
The society and environment conscious semi-urban/rural: Natural water all the way.
20 lt. Bisleri is in!
Bisleri? That’s mineral water! The same thing dahling!

Urban: They’re informed and they’re comfortable about it.
Sex? Only when its casual!
But ofcourse, we always use condoms!
I never have the time!

Of course not! (scandalized). We already have three children.
The society and environment conscious semi-urban/rural: They can adopt different stances.
I have ceased to live a hedonistic existence, now I meditate.
All the time man! There’s nothing else here for entertainment. The damned cable connection sucks!

Please Note: There has been no research conducted and all the remarks used above are fictional. Any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental.

Wednesday, May 21, 2003

If I pack my bags
And leave this town
Would anyone even notice
That I am not around

If I walk a path
Stumble and fall
Would people come running
Would they help me at all

If I die one day
Will anyone know
Will they shed some tears
Express their woe

In the quiet of the night
I’ll quickly slip away
Never come back
I’ll go far away

To the city I know
People to hold my hand
My family, my friends
My heart, my land!
I read somewhere yesterday that cooking is masochism. Why would anyone cook for 2 hours so that someone else could gobble it down in 5 minutes?
It’s funny though! When I go back home, alone, I hate cooking for myself and usually make do with bread and eggs. And there are days when I get back home late and have a friend over for dinner. I then spend a couple of hours cooking a nice dinner, however tired I am. I don’t think it is masochism at all. It’s wanting to make the people you care about happy and not wanting to make an effort when you have nobody to share with.
Though in my case, I would say it is sadism. ;) My cooking (which I will refrain from commenting on!) and my guests who are forced to eat it! Definitely sadism!!

Monday, May 19, 2003

If anything can go wrong, it will.
~Murphy’s Law

It’s a crazy crazy world. Murphy was right. If anything can go wrong, it most certainly will

Situation: Tomorrow is a killer day at work. You plan to have an early night and get some rest.
• Your friend calls up. He’s in town just for the night. He invites you to see a movie that you’ve been dying to watch. How can you refuse!
• The movie finishes early. “What? It’s barely 10 a.m.! Let’s get a couple of beers, catch a bite.” (How do you explain the funda of wanting to go to bed early?)
• You pick up a couple of beers. Join some more friends. Good fun. Keep looking at the watch. 10:30 p.m., 11p.m., 11:30 p.m. …….
• “Hey guy, sorry to break up the party. I need to go home. A tough day at work tomorrow.”
• No one has a problem. So far so good. “So, who’s dropping me home?”
• No one volunteers. Why? Reason: “Can’t break the law, can’t drive with alcohol in my belly.”
• What? 4.8% alcohol content and that too only two glasses of beer!
• You settle back into the couch. Nobody’s moving. Keep looking at the time. 11:45 p.m., 12 a.m., 12:30 a.m……
• “Guys, I really need to go home.” No one pays you any attention.
• “Guys.” This time you are firmer and your screech is loud enough to break the neighbor’s wine glasses.
• “Ok. Ok, give us 5 minutes.”
• Finally, you leave at 1:37 a.m.
• All that excitement leaves you wide awake. You finally sleep in the early hours of dawn.
• The alarm doesn’t work. You wake up late.
• Reach office huffing and puffing. You have missed 9 client calls.
• Then it gets even better. None of your colleagues turn up for work. It’s all a conspiracy. Now you end up doing their work too.
• In the midst of 7 of your clients and 5 of your colleagues’ clients (It’s a wonder that you’re still alive!), your fingers typing a quotation as you explain the concept note of a project to a client on the phone (Yes, it is confusing!), your director walks in beaming.
• And he informs you, as if he’s bestowing on you the honour of the century, that the company has acquired a new client. And guess who’s going to be the lucky one handling it? Yeah! You!

Saturday, May 17, 2003

I have definite symptoms of OCD. Here’s what I mean.

Situation: I am off to bed and have an important meeting the following day. I have to wake up at say 6 a.m. the following morning.
• I set the alarm and go to bed with a book.
• Five minutes later, I get up and check whether I have set the right time. Back to my book.
• Five minutes later, I get up to check whether I have set the alarm at all. After being reassured I go back to bed.
• The above process is repeated a few times at regular intervals of 5 minutes. Finally, I realize that it’s really late and I should get some sleep. I switch of my lights and snuggle under my bed-sheet.
• Five minutes later I am fumbling in the dark for the bed-side lamp switch. Check the alarm again. Perhaps I had switched it off while checking earlier.
• Five minutes later, recheck.
• Five minutes later, get up and put a second alarm on my mobile. Now I can sleep!
• Five minutes later, wake up. The alarm is ringing. It’s 6 a.m.!!!

Friday, May 16, 2003

Sometimes you feel a heart-wrenching pain and you feel that the world is closing in. You want the comfort of tears, your body racking as you sob. But tears elude you. Dry-eyed, you don’t even know why you feel so.

Thursday, May 15, 2003

As I walked down the undulated path
Tripping on broken stones
My parched throat
Searching for water
Beads of sweat trickled down my back
My head spinning in the heat
In the sunlight bright
As darkness engulfed me
I gripped the air for support
A mirage in the distance
The welcoming cool of a summer afternoon breeze
I broke into a run
As it faded into the distance
Tears streaming down my face
Don’t go away
Don’t go away

Wednesday, May 14, 2003

Sometimes the answer lies in the question itself. I remember asking my Sanskrit teacher in school, “Ma’am, kim ka matlab kya hota hai? (Kim and Kya mean ‘what’ in Sanskrit and Hindi respectively) and she said “Haan.” (Yes).
It’s something like ‘The alchemist’. You keep looking for treasure which was where you started in the first place.
Women have the knack of attracting all the wrong men. It seems to be a masochistic streak that they have. The meaner the men, the more attractive they are to us. Is that why “You make me want to be a better man.” in As Good As It Gets makes us mushy and teary-eyed? Is that why there are so many women who suffer domestic violence wordlessly? Or are they just numb from all the pain? Uncomfortably numb!

Monday, May 12, 2003

It’s not too bad being hurt in an accident, as long as it’s not too severe. To start off with, you have to deal with the pain. Depending on how badly hurt you are (for example, I managed to scrape my arms and knees), there are different degrees of pain. The first day is usually bad. Then the pain becomes a bearable pain (comfortable numb) which you actually start enjoying. (I am convinced that I am a masochist.)Then the pain goes away. And you start missing it.
Then, you get loads of sympathy and attention, something that you never tire of. Talk about bottomless pits!! My heart is one. It can accommodate all the love and attention of the world. (To give and to get!)
But I think the best part of it all is the bruises. How much entertainment I have derived from examining my scraped forearm! Right now, the dead skin, which looks as if it’s been fried, is peeling off and you can see the pink cells below. It actually looks quite tasty. Like bacon! Please don’t think I am obsessed. My bruise makes up for a lonely existence.

My daily routine:

Wake up.
Examine the bruise.
Brush my teeth.
Examine the bruise.
Wash my face.
Examine the bruise.
Make breakfast.
Examine the bruise.
Have a bath.
Examine the bruise. This time thoroughly. Enjoy the sensation of pain as water trickles over it.
Wear clothes.
Examine the bruise.
Leave for work. Reach the office.
Examine the bruise.
Work.. Examine the bruise….Work…. Examine the bruise… you get the drift!!!
Come back home.
Examine the bruise.
Cook dinner.
Examine the bruise.
Read a book. Examine the bruise while reading.
Fall asleep.
Dream of the bruise.

Friday, May 09, 2003

A friend today said something really funny. He said, “We should have had detachable body parts. It would have been easier to clean them.” I laughed then but later gave it more thought.

What if it were true? Would we be able to do different things at the same time? Multi-tasking would achieve a completely new plain.
“My hands are washing clothes.”
“My abs are doing crunches.”

Perhaps body parts could come in different sizes and shapes and colours.
“Today I feel like being reed thin.”
“Today I feel like looking like a voluptuous slut!”

Would you be able to change your sex too?
“I feel like a man today!”
“Women sure have more fun!”

Imagine the possibilities. Plastic surgeons would be looking for new jobs. It would be a crazy world. A bit sad too. You would never know what the other person is going to look like. Sure, the face would remain the same but….you would hesitate to hug somebody from behind. What about clothes? You would have to buy clothes in different sizes and colours. It would be a warped world.

Why do we need to change anything? These are the times when I feel that everything is great as it is.

“God’s in his heaven. All’s right with the world.”
I have realized that I am not cut out for a nine-to-five job. I don’t mind working all night, only if I didn’t have to report at dot 9:30 a.m. Hence, my task for the day is to think of excuses that I could give when I get late.

Excuse List:

1. The alarm clock didn’t work.
2. My maid came late.
3. I was travelling in another century and my time-machine conked out.
4. I had a hang-over.
5. ‘I forgot to pay my gravitational bill’. I was stuck to the ceiling. (Courtesy: Bill Waterson)
6. I got locked out of my house in my night-clothes.
7. The clouds hid the sun. The sun wakes me up in the morning.
8. Today is go-to-office-late day.
9. I slept off under the shower.
10. I had an accident. No! You can’t see my bruises. Internal injuries!
11. I forgot the way to office.
12. I thought today was a Sunday.
13. I got hijacked by aliens.
14. I had a confidential meeting with someone. Can’t tell you about it. Will give you a clue though. President of USA!
15. I am giving an opportunity to others to look better than me. Otherwise they don’t stand a chance.
16. I was unable to colour-coordinate my clothes.
17. I am not going to insult you by giving any excuses. I wanted to get late! Fire me!!!
18. My limbs were not getting signals from my brain.
19. I got stuck in the lift.
20. My vehicle ran out of petrol.

Any more to add? Your help will be appreciated.

Thursday, May 08, 2003


I'm so tired of myself
I'm so tired in my sleep
I'm so tired of my lies
I'm so tired of all the secrets I keep
I'm so tired of looking inside myself
Trying to find something
I'm tired... so tired...
And I know I need something
Because the grind is just burning me out
And I don't wanna have to hurt one of them
But I'll do it 'cause I'm tired...
Real tired...
I'm so tired of all the things that I hear
I'm tired of the things that I fear
I've never seen the end so clear
And I'm tired... real tired
'cause I know I need something...
Something, wanna just this to keep me sticking around
But I'll do it...
'cause I'm getting real tired...
'cause I know I need something...
You want just this...
The grind is wearing me down
And I don't wanna kill one of these walking insects
But I'll do it...
'cause I'm real tired and I'm not getting any better

~Rollins Band

Tuesday, May 06, 2003

On an evening such as this
It's hard to tell if I exist

~ Barenaked Ladies

A friend told me today that ‘Seattle has the highest rate of suicides in the country because there’s no sunshine there, there’s rain all over the place.’
It’s actually interesting. Does the weather define our mood? Is that why hot sunny days make me tired and the humidity in Calcutta makes me lethargic? Then what weather would make us happy? Spring?
Is there a planet in this universe where the weather is always spring-like? Are the people in that planet in a state of perpetual bliss? How awful is that? Does being happy all the time become boring and eventually make you unhappy? And then if everybody is unhappy does the weather of the planet change? Or are all the people unhappy in the planet of spring?

You're the smirk,a frown-smile hybrid that's a
little bit cocky and usually associated with
evil or arrogant,but attractive people.You
probably just don't give a damn,but it's
everyone else's fault if you don't because
you're too awesome to have any real faults.

What Kind of Smile are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Stoner Bear
Stoner Bear

Which Dysfunctional Care Bear Are You?
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Monday, May 05, 2003

In the midst of life I am in death
I lie in a coffin dark and gloomy
I hear the pitter-patter of feet
As people walk on my grave
I lie here helpless
Why can’t they leave me alone in death?
As my body rots, worms crawling all over
I want to, for just one more time
Feel the wind on my face.
I slept all night and yet I am tired. My dark circles look darker than the rings around an owl’s eyes.

All I want to do is……

Get wet in the rain. But there are no clouds around.
Float on water with my eyes closed. But I can’t swim.
Keep walking till I collapse. But I would last all of 5 minutes, tired as I am.
Breathe sweet air. But my nose is blocked.
Go hitchhiking in Europe. But I have no money and my passport has expired.

Perhaps, I should just sleep. But I can’t because I am in office and I have tons of work. Sometimes you needn’t be verbose to express your feelings. Two words suffice.

Life sucks!!!!

Saturday, May 03, 2003


• Why do I feel inarticulate and yet can’t stop talking?
• Why do I hate pretentious snobs and yet always say “I don’t listen to boy-bands.”
• Why do I love my self and yet be a masochist?
• Why do I love being on my own and yet feel lonely?

There’s nothing more beautiful than a dead branch on a withered tree. And the one leaf on that dead branch swaying in a gentle zephyr.
It’s easy to put people into different categories.

• Marshmallows: Gooey! Sweet! They never disagree.
• Toblerone: Perfect! Witty. Brilliant.
• Caramel Custard: Unassuming. Our anchors in life.
• Bitter chocolates: The schizophrenics. The unpredictable ones!
• After Eight: Layered! Sweet upfront. Cold inside!
• Burnt Cake: Hateful people. They have nothing nice to say about anything.

How is it that you can predict with a 99% accuracy what the other person is going to say to you? It all depends on what category the person falls into.

For example, you have an accident and are bleeding.

Marshmallows: “Oh my! Did you hurt yourself? Oh, you poor thing!” Gush! Gush! Gush! Tears in their eyes, impractical and totally useless.

Toblerone: “I hope the other guy looked worse!” or “I dread to think what the road looks like.” Then they drive you to a doctor and hold your hand when you cry at the sight of blood.

Caramel Custard: No questions asked. Some sounds of sympathy as they clean and dress your wounds, their medicine closet stocked with ointments, Dettol, cotton-wool, bandage, painkillers, etc. Once you’re comfortable, “What happened?”

Bitter chocolates: (In a good mood) “Gosh, you’re bleeding. Let me take you to a doctor.”
(In a bad mood) ““You’re bleeding all over the floor. Why don’t you go to a doctor?”

After Eight: “God! How did you hurt yourself? Come we’ll go to the doctor.” Then they take your car (their car never has petrol) and ask you for the parking fee (they don’t have change). And they never hold your hand when you get an injection.

Burnt Cake: “I told you this would happen.” (Nothing is worse than an ‘I told you so’ when you’re hurt.) “You drive so rashly! It’s people like you who are responsible for accidents…… blah blah blah.” And you bleed to death right in front of them.

Friday, May 02, 2003

Hey there stranger I see every morning
We cross each other as we walk in opposite directions
As you gasp for breath, our eyes meet
A hint of a smile
What are you thinking then?
What kind of a life do you lead?
An empty superficial life
Wasted away as the years go by?
Why are your eyes kohl-lined before dawn?
Do they hide telltale signs of grief?
Do you lie in the dark all night long?
O Stranger, my morning walk comrade,
Tired and restless, twisting and turning?
Dreaming dreams of an insomniac.