I am 0 I am nothing _

what number are you?

this quiz by

Rahul Keswani

It's uncanny that words sound so much heavier when written than when spoken. For once, I don't remember a single time when I've spoken to Rahul in a tone anything close to an inch of seriousness or a tuppence of gravity. Yet when we write about each other there is an extra cloak of emotion that our heart demands to cover itself with... It is my theory that each person truly reflects himself by the colour of the pen he wields.... The hypocrisy in his mind, the love in his heart, the pretence in his conduct.... the sceptic , the stoic, the idealist, the sadist, the altruist, the dreamer, the admirer, the despiser, the friend, the brother.... the whole family of hues pops out with each drop of colour from the writer's sword.... I am writing these words knowing I've found a friend in Rahul..... someone who is affected by my conduct towards him. I need to be more careful..... I know that the very next time I see Rahul, he will be the same caricature to me and I shall be the same midget clown to him.... But I guess that doesn't matter anymore.... What matters is probably embalmed upon my words and his...
We might keep darting each other with retorts and repartees to juggle our time.... we might remain dressed up as clowns to amuse each other for the rest of our lives. And by the time these moments pass, each of us clowns would retrospect back only to sense exhiliration and deepest gratitude to those lives that we lived together in each other's company.And the clowns shall not age. They don't need to. Ever

PS: Onkar, Purshya, PC, Varun, Shweta, PPS,Dixi, Saxena, DASA you're next.

The Spy

Little-scary-wicked spy,
Hiding from the naked eye,
Peeps into the looking glass,
Lurks upon the highway pass.

He hitchhikes on a stupid car,
Mumbles low and smokes his cigar,
And then he blows a fiery ring,
Loses grip and starts to sing!

And that is when the creeps begin,
The riders sweat a feeble grin,
Then he draws his sinister gun,
And the satan watches the fun.

Bang!!! Bang!!! Bang!!! Bang!!!
Four heads down but one more sprang,
A toddling flower with dusky hair,
Two eyes froze but none to spare.

He pats his holster and blows a ring,
The flowers' fears have come to spring.

Graffiti-2

I think i want to fall over and over and over again until i penetrate into the mound which lies beside my feet. I shall not give it an insolent kick as that will disturb the sanctity of the household of life that occupies it. I do not want them to pass their end scorning at me, thinking of me as a prodigal prick who never had the heart to even give them a moment to sing requiems for each other. Requiems that they had composed little by little everyday and memorised, anticipating that poignant moment of cognisance, embracing a neighbour's end as if it were a commencement of a journey through his memories. A journey that someone takes on his departed neighbour's stead and proceeds on waters as azure as a turquoise crystal, remembering each droplet of the mighty ocean as an entity that houses the singularity of a unique moment. He holds the droplet against the light of the sun and cherishes each colour that is extracted out of the droplet. He then realises that there are many more colours to a rainbow.

No I shall not kick the mound. I shall keep falling on my feet until they notice me and open their gates and invite me to supper. I want them to teach me each requiem that they wrote and composed for each other. I want to take some back to my own land, my own life. I want to walk on those waters. I hope the remain as azure the day I commence my journey hoping to discovering someone. I hope the sun is benevolent enough to extract colours out of the droplets I choose. I hope I get to see a new colour in the rainbow. I hope someone else takes his journey through the waters hoping to discover me. I hope our paths cross. :-)

Notes to me-self 1

1. The next time you have a spilling urge to belch out a wise-crack, bite your tongue.

2. The next time the alarm rings in the morning, do not cover your head with the pillow.

3. Do not preach.....do not even try to! Seek the light first, not the enlightenment.

4. Next time you encounter an urchin begging you for a rupee, refuse by looking at him in the eye.

5. Vocabulary and etiquette are not benchmarks to distinguish between persons.

6. Try listening to people as you hear them speaking to you.

7. The next time somebody gets the better of you in an argument... wait... take a deep breath.... try to come up with a smarter repartee......if you're not successful, acknowledge his victory with humility.... but in the case you do come up with one....first acknowledge his win with sagacity but never let the retort escape your trap. Add it to your 'bag of newly found wisdom'.

8. If you feel you're being taken for granted, try to find out why. Once you know the reason, try to do nothing about it,

9. Decide whether you are aimlessly foolish or foolishly aimless. Decide and let it be.

10. There is only one certainty in life- the self implication of this statement.

11. Don't spend more than ten minutes while typing a blog.

Look around...choose your own ground

They spoke, interjected and interrogated. On the outside they were gesturing and being directive at each other.... On the inside.....well leave that to the omniscient....Hello Pugnacity!, I welcome you to the group of man's indispensable virtues. One pit-stop after another....Well we have loads of time to kill, don't we.....so let us all move to the music....we shall ruminate on common pastures......One,Two Buckle my shoe......Three,Four bring the whore......Five,Six give her the kicks......Seven,Eight lower the bait......Nine, Ten so many happy men....well who's bothered about the outcome anyways.....everybody whose anybody got to bark his punchline.....He echoed "I loved my 30 seconds to fame.....well I'd rather have my kicks before the whole shit-house burns in a flame!".......I was overawed......spellbound and stupefied......doubtful whether I could ever be good enough to mince words like that.....after all I'm the kernel of this hypocrisy, am I not?.....I aspire to be the cream of my nation......It is my dream to be the jack among the jack-asses and more vehemently so! I am the USP of my alma mater....I contrive to challenge the comprehensible as well as the incomprehensible even before knowing one from the other.....
It is my dream to be the best of what is too shameful even to be hovered upon by scavengers.....
OM TATSAT BRAHMARPANAMASTU:

It spoke but not to me....

Open me with supple grace,
A perturbation slight or a little flick,
A friendly poke with a fiddle-stick,
And let me flow in open space.

I shall cross hedges, incise barb-wires,
A fox's stealth gulps every noise,
Velvet paws and majestic poise,
Beauty beheld by the one who aspires!

I shall sit beside on autumn's day,
Sketch faces and colour them well,
Each to contrive a different spell,
Until the spring chronicles in May.

But you shall return for I don't move,
I shall age but only to rise,
I shall fall only to reprise,
The words on my epitaph-
that you were set to prove.

I thought I had lost everything...
On retrospection I realised I had earned my space!

Random thoughts....

My room's become smaller.......I'd like to think it's me :-(

Had a long day today... I want to reach the end of it..... but not just yet...... I'm waiting for tomorrow.... I guess I'd have to wait a little more. It has been so long since I've dreamt during slumber..... I want to go on one of those voyages. I hurt some people today.... I want to go back and apologise..... but they'll never understand... I guess I'll let time do the nursing...... I want time to nurse me too.......

Place me under a cloud, only anticipation to enshroud.
Let each droplet trickle, and a new prayer chronicle
my life that genuflects, before the sun that reflects
it back upon my face.

Graffiti I

The days have become longer. I feel a transition....is it an apparition? Is it relativity? Is it me?
Why is Change so perpetual in nature? If it is inherent, then why is man affected by it so gravely?
Minute by minute something or someone around me reforms, deforms, transforms and I am mortified, stupefied, vexed and perplexed. I am weary of this metamorphosis......... I'm sick of every question in my mind...... And I feel abysmal if each of those question finally transforms into its own answer.

I'm sick of doubt,
Living in the light of certain South.
Cruel Bindings!!!!!

And as I look beyond the horizon....... I see an uncertainty. I see myself being a part of this castration and debauchery of sensitivity and sensibility that I so very despise from the dungeons of my viscera. Or am I already a part of it?

I do not want to resolve this question...... I don't want it to happen again.......no I cannot be a part this cacophonic fiasco anymore and fight new battles...... I do not want any of those god-forsaken answers..... Let the facts remain paradoxical... oxy-moronic, incomprehensible and intangible.... they're better off in the deep- blue sea than in my backyard.

YOU easefully pass on some of your 'unfathomable' courage to someone in need of it.
Try taking up his fear upon yourself for a change!

Well........

Underneath a shaded canopy of green hue,
Fixed upon the moon-two pearls, hazy blue,
I locked my eyes upon one of them hoping
to know its story. I was haplessly groping.
All the while, the second pearl was extracting
my story out. Two worlds were contracting
into a final crunch that was to be....the end.

But the story began where it was supposed to end..... cruel bindings!