The hourglass turned over yet again
As time disappears into time
Numb fingers fly endlessly
On the worn out key-board with letters missing
Churning words meaningless
Into the blank pages of the book called life
Progressively thinning with every page torn
Thrown into the basket of a cob-webbed past

'Fudged in the Head'


What Type of Lunatic are You?
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Lonliness dominates you. You can hide it well, but
it is there, and your friends can see it. You
constantly feel alone, and need to do things to
fill your time. You are afraid to tell people
this, but sooner or later it gets out in a bad
way, and you think you screwed up everything.
And when you are in love is when you are sad
the most. (Please Vote)


What Emotion Dominates you?
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So the answer to all my problems is to never fall in love!!

I am twenty-five years old and I still don’t have my rights and lefts in place. And for some weird reason taxi-drivers don’t find it funny. Why can’t they just follow the directions which my hands give (which are seldom incorrect)? So what if I say left when I mean right and right when I mean left? At least I know where I want to go.

India has the fifth highest rate of rapes in the world. And these are only the ones that are reported.

It was an especially cold winter evening. He and his friends were returning from their tuitions, back to their hostel dormitories. It was a long twenty-minute walk in the narrow unlit lanes of Darjeeling.
They walked quietly, their school bags heavy with books and their hands tucked away in the warmth of their jacket pockets. When suddenly the silence was broken by the strains of a baby crying. Following the sound which came from a dark corner of the lane, they found a basket hidden away in the bushes. The baby tucked under blankets was howling. Not knowing what to do, they picked up the basket, unwilling to leave the baby alone in the freezing cold. They walked towards the church. Handing the baby over to the Father was the best option. The eerie silence made them nervous and they walked faster, tripping everyone now and then in the dark. They were panting by the time they reached the church. The baby had quietened down by then. They put the basket down in the porch light of the church and uncovered the blanket from the baby to see if they could find any identification. The baby’s eyes stared straight at them, evil eyes, and an evil grin plastered on the face of an old man. The face of an old man on the body of a child.
My uncle still gets goose-bumps whenever he remembers the incident.

What is it about dogs that make me want to smother them with hugs and kisses? Be it my own dogs, others’ pets or even street dogs. The shape of their snout, the turn of their lips, the whiskers that tickle when they lick your face and their floppy ears that seem to have a life of its own. The way they rub against my legs, the way their eyes talk; a lick here and a lick there.
Dogs bring out a love in me that I didn’t know I was capable of. Give me a dog and I will forgo all other human relationships.

It is no longer like before. And it never will.

I burn, like midnight oil in the dark
In anticipation of morning
Knowing, that I shall be needed no more
In the sun’s comforting luminosity

Bombay mein, garib ho ya ameer, subah uth kar toh sabhi daudte hain.
In Bombay, whether rich or poor, everyone gets up early in the morning and starts running in the rat race.

Duniya mein koi jaat nahin hai. Sirf hai ek ladies aur ek gents. Ek husband aur ek wife. Ek mata aur ek pita.
There is nothing called caste in this world. There only exists one woman and one man. One husband and one wife. One mother and one father.

Shaadi toe ek manzil hai. Ghum phir ke sham ko sabhi ghar jaatey hain waise hi ghum phir kar ladka aur ladki saath milte hain.
Marriage is like a destination. At the end of the day, wherever you are, everyone returns home. Similarly, at the end of the day, a girl and a boy have to return to each other.

Pati aur patni cycle ke dono pahiye hain. Dono ko saath saath chalna padhta hai.
The husband and wife are like the two wheels of the cycle. Both have to move to make it work.

Excerpts from the conversation with my taxi-driver this morning, willing to talk just because I was willing to listen.

People who read 'Bush unveils a joint nuke and space plan' also read 'Dating sexy models in bikinis '.
(Source: www.indiatimes.com)
Maybe they mistook nuke for nude!!

And I thought that no one could be more accident-prone than I am. I accept defeat. No one (and no one) can ever beat my flat-mate.
§ How many of you have managed to get your ear stuck in a door? (Yes, you read it right. The ear. The one that receives audio signals and sends it to the brain. No, her ears do not protrude like a goblin’s. She’s got nice pretty well proportioned ears. How did she manage to stick it between the door? Don’t ask me! But that’s something that would never happen to me. Hair stuck caught in a car fan, yes. But, ear stuck in a door, never.)
§ How many of you have managed to fracture your hand while dancing? (She was dancing with the stud in one of her office parties. Stud to be read as the biggest loser who thinks no end-to-himself. He asked her for a dance, claiming that he’d been attending dancing classes. He twirled her around in an elaborate dance routine, and he FORGOT to let go off her hand. There was an audible crack as her bone broke. Audible in the loud party music.)
§ How many of you have got your foot tendons injured while dancing? (This time she swears she was careful. She was careful not to dance with anyone who claimed to be a good dancer. She lucked upon a guy wearing heavy boots, who stepped on her TWICE. She bit her lip not to cry out in pain. With the music blaring, there’s not much point in crying out aloud. She asked him sarcastically, if he’d been attending dancing lessons. He told her, his face red with pleasure, that he needed none as he danced well naturally.)
As I said before, she’s the winner hands down (or bones broken).

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Nothing is making sense to me.

He lied!
I got a second opinion today after my computer crashed in the morning. Apparently the mother-board is all screwed up. Is there something about my face that gives away that I have absolutely no idea about anything that is remotely to do with a computer? The IT guy could tell me that the http (That's hyper text something protocol or something. Ha! I know something. Or at least part of something.) is not working and I would believe him thinking it's some complicated funda about computers.
I am now without a computer and I have to submit a really important report which is saved on my computer.
You think kicking the CPU would help?

“How bad is it?” I asked him apprehensively.
He replied shaking his head, “It doesn’t look good”.
I had spent all morning waiting for him to give me time, and now I was overflowing with pent up tension. I stood next to him waiting for him to complete his examination. He worked silently, without the usual niceties or assurances that all will be right.
“Everything’s okay I hope” I asked, silently begging him to give me some form of reassurance. Something, anything! A nod. A smile. He remained impassive, quietly doing his work. I realized then what relatives of the sick endure when the doctor refuses to give a diagnosis.
He finally got up from the chair and I looked at him with bated breath.
“Well?” I asked unable to contain myself anymore.
He let himself smile then.
“It’s fine now. There was a virus but I have removed it. I have also installed an anti-virus. Your computer will be just fine.”

The phrase ‘emotional fuckwittage’ (Source: Bridget Jones’ Diary) has taken on a complete new meaning.

He said, ‘Maybe I don’t deserve you.’ And she said, nodding sadly, ‘Maybe you don’t.’ He walked away then and she let him, as her body racked with sobs, her heart broken.

Is love determined by the little things the other person does? How he holds your hands, feeds you when you are cold and lazy, how he looks into your eyes and how he says he loves you more than anything or anybody?
Or is love determined by the big things? Honesty, faith and trust?