Red and It

Posted: January 26, 2016 in Uncategorized
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You never mentioned that you are whimsical,

most assumed you to be life;

You never spoke to me as if it would hurt,

but the needle puncturing the veins did;

You never whispered that you are angry,

the syringe tried all means to meet you;

You never explained why is it difficult;

Unless the fresh red sprinkle on the white apron spoke of angst, whims, pain and infidelity.


You brought me up at your whims,

the determined piston pulled you against your caprice;

You played up at times when it ached,

the punctured vena sobered you up;

You dribbled up to the limit at angst,

the unnerved sustained pull denied it;

You never could play whilst it’s turbulent;

Unless the steady dark red self of yours was contained in, steady, calm, lively, fiddle.

You are not all me, you are just me.

The Window Pane

Posted: April 7, 2015 in Uncategorized

The window pane looks dark grey, although it has a white paint on it’s verge, or it may be the weather which makes it look dull and uninteresting, the weather which has been playing up in this part of the world, for a reason not known to play infidel in this start of summer days, or it might as well be,  just the state of my mind; dejected, grim, firm, crowded, clout of bad ideas flouting their prowess with my sense of feel good factor floating like a froth which is ready to get evaporated. I’m in a state of art mess, the art of rejection of my mind is blissfully wandering towards the darkness of a boring, twisted boat ride, there does not seem any place to anchor my hope. Is it depression, no, probably not, because when people are depressed, they do not feel energized, but I do. I strongly channelize my energies to feel good about the state of dejection, er, I’m probably trying to get into a depressive state, or am I trying to get over it, too many things are going wrong for me at a time, which one to pick and start with, me, my family, my job, the plans about my career, can somebody help me, do I need help, or am I just hallucinating the state of my being. I’m unsure, its too dark I can’t see things clear enough.

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Mumbai changes life, often like its train network, from slow track to fast track. In Mumbai, you learn how to make numerous folds of the MidDay newspaper so that it fits well in your pocket. In Mumbai, you learn that there are slow and fast ways to reach a particular destination, it is not luck but sheer choices you make in your journey which varies the timing. These are not anecdotes from any best selling books, they are my own realisation, living in almost four years in Mumbai.

Victoria Terminus, VT station, as it is popularly abbreviated – That is probably the first thing comes to one’s mind when we picture Mumbai. But I landed in Kurla, Lokmanya tilak ternimus ( LTT), another well known abbreviated station name. I started off the holy journey of my professional career from Trivandrum (Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala – for the geography purists ), with a software major of India, back in May, 2005, just about a decade ago. Ideally, I can happily sing my own desi version of  Bryan Adam’s ‘Summer of 2005’ – ‘When I look back now, summer seems to last forever’, but the summer of Kerala just lasted over a month, and here I was, boarded on the train to Mumbai, to join the head office of the company. Mumbai was not an obvious choice I would say, as we weren’t given much of a choice of location those days – Bangalore, Pune, Kolkata, Delhi, Chennai and Mumbai. It was just a stroke of luck, a lottery which decided where to land post completing our month long training stint of in Kerala. Most of my journey was engrossed with discussion with the Mumbai folks about the sky high rents, wonder ways to to secure the most coveted thing in Mumbai ( which is an apartment to live), the social life, night life, food one should must try or the ones to be avoided and so on – You know, the obvious set of questions one would wonder before landing up in a city.

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Late Friday evening was when the news arrived, well, the news called, to be correct. It was a busy weekend evening for me as I was shopping for most of the stuff needed for a party next day. Nothing exotic, nor that the guests were somebody I had to mandatorily  impress to get my next hike or promotion; instead, they were my three best friends, whom I get to meet less often these days, all thanks to our busy city lives. Tomorrow, I called them for a small treat. I know them since the start of our Hyderabad stint, just more than 3 years or so; I reckon we( that’s me and my wife),   have met two of them in DD’s party, that’s the third guy. Those days he worked with me, so more of a colleague, but that birthday party of his was where we had met two of his room partners, Comrade and Tree. Strange names one might wonder, but those were coined by me on general consensus of course – DD, is a short stature dude, so we decided to shorten and lighten up his archaic and longish first name; The second dude had a very sharp mind and most of his thoughts were quite revolutionary and sometimes very provoking, hence Comrade. Tree worked in crop genetics and had this nature of agreeing to almost every ideas and adventures of ours, hence the ‘Shade of life’ Tree. So socializing with these nice blokes for sometime now, and we are the best of buds, ‘the wolf pack’ now! And on Saturday was when the wolves would party after a hiatus, and just 24 hours of before this fun time begins, Mr.News arrives.

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This dates back to the winter of 2004; the leaves have worn off the trees although the dust of the road get blissfully covered up by the loitering homeless petals. It was December when I managed to squeeze out ten days off my scheduled life in Bangalore and managed to break free at my parents’ place in Kolkata – Home sweet home after a year and a half approximately.

Although quite busy but my days in Bangalore weren’t too rosy. I graduated in the summer of 2004, post a long haul celebratory stint of four years of computer engineering, but some miscalculated steps landed me without a job during the college campus – Hence, call centre beckons ( those days the most frequented job option for graduates in engineering in Bangalore was call centre jobs, not easy or big money but good enough to stay free from Dad’s Bank drafts!) Along with the erratic schedule of call centre job, I busted with a nagging not-so-supportive and demanding (both in terms of money, time and avant-garde 24/7 emotional support) girlfriend and a super hectic management entrance preparation – Bell the CAT, as we called it. Net takeaway – I had no idea where was I headed. And then cometh Ani!

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AVeg Chutzpah

Posted: February 11, 2015 in Uncategorized
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–This poem is inspired by the Greenday’s ‘American Idiot‘ , and the poem follows pretty much the exact rhythm but not the exact verbatim though!.


Don’t wanna be an ‘ndi idiot,

Don’t object under the new coloured LochNess,

And can you hear the sound of hysteria?

It’s the subliminal ‘namaste’ mery-ca.


Suffice to a new kind of suffocation,

All across the Panoptico subjugation,

Where everything isn’t meant to be watched.


Literature (wet) dreams are secret,

We’re not the ones who’re meant to read and watch,

For that’s can’t be argued, gourmet cooking.


Well maybe I’m the faggot

I’m not a part of a red-star agenda,

Now nobody should do the propaganda

Curfew knot and yeast is the age of paranoia.


I don’t wanna be an ‘ndi idiot

I don’t want to be an AcrimonIousBankrupt

Just wanna to cook AVeg Chutzpah!!!


Posted: February 3, 2015 in Uncategorized
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Most of the things don’t matter to me,
Well almost all of it does not matter. Anymore.
Bother the sound of the morning chirp
To the rants of the roadside urchin
Billowing smoke off the street vendor’s dungcake
government sells that smoke to buy world bank loan
It’s the street vendor’s clueless desperate hungry take on bio-friendliness
He roasts the beef, fired by the holy cash cow’s dung
He sells them to the parties where scotch is being served
To spice up the discussion of the fuel shortage
He serves the smoke and the smoked, to buy us bio-deal
I have graduated to whip my mind off them
Most of the things don’t matter to me,
Well, almost all of it doesn’t matter to me anymore.

For me, as you know me..
There stands the Wall, symbol of steadyness, unbecoming, sturdy nature.
The street border wall serves us a stench
A stench of human excreta lying side by side with educated animals’
Imported Alcohol served with ice or cheap country liquor
Served with pain and unholy hopelessness of the multitude
The stench, and the skid marks on the commode called city, is indistinguishable
Alas the flush does not work any more, of
the public toilets build out of corporate social responsibility, is overflowing
With social welfare budget and politics free water, commuters cross the river
Of swarm, stench and bio-degradable excreta and urine, with muted breath,
mindless expletives and prayer to the devil, for a change.
for me, as you know me well by now,
Things like these, almost of of it doesn’t matter to me anymore.

As a matter of fact, I do not wish to die,
Death is for mortals, who were born, had birthdays,
Lived their life and would end it someday.
As matter of fact, I’m the onlooker who is standing just next to you,
Smiling to see you live, through the stark dark alleys of the city,
In broad daylight, soaking in the smell of hell, walking dead,
And reminding yourself, I’m fine, it doesn’t matter to me anymore.

The Table

Posted: December 29, 2014 in Uncategorized
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It’s a rainy Mumbai night, a consistent stubborn downpour since the last three-four hours had left the streets water logged, not a very rare situation in the city though. But it was compounded by the infrequent power cut – the road lights are dimmed and the streets are looking like a black hole ready to engulf all the busy-ness of the city. A perfect night to be in house enjoying a Gin-tonic or Malt but no glory in jostling across the crowd trying luck amidst already thinning transport.

He was quite late at work, albeit in the late shift these days. The end-of-day settlement batch job had stretched its limits way past the midnight hour, the perks of a heavy trading day in the market. Joe – that’s what colleagues and client call him, an anglicised and ‘easy’ short of Joyshonkar, which he assumes to be too obnoxious a name to be called out at a party. Joe, looking at his watch whilst hastily collecting stuff in his cubicle, fathomed that there might be a very thin chance to procure a seat at the all-night bar close to Dadar station.

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Image Courtesy: Indiblogger

Image Courtesy: Indiblogger

“Get me a handkerchief from her bosom – a garter of my love”
– Faust

Published on August 2014, according to the HT-MaRS Youth Survey, an unprecedented 61% of the Indian youth who were surveyed believe that premarital sex is no longer a taboo. Good stuff for a decent start of the post, as facts, figures, statistics plays a lodestone in most of the debate – But, the HT-MaRs survey also points out that 63% of the youth prefers their partners to be virgins when it comes to marriage – Hence statistics might be stratified collective lies once we do not take the entirety into consideration. Loved the way HT underscores this contradicted dichotomy whilst they published their survey :

“Call it double standards, the cost of straddling a la-la land between tradition or modernity or just plain old hypocrisy, the fact is that the youth of urban India hardly practice what they preach.”

But me, as the title already “mirrored”, do believe that premarital sex as a Notion is agreeable and I accord to it as an Act. Let me take to all the “corners” of this “round” idea – Come on, Hold my hand mate and walk with me!

This corner, it’s called the Prof. Sigmund Freud’s scope– Reckon him, Ye Olde Psychoanalysis Crawle ? Oops, was it too far fetched, well it is not. Prof. Freud’s “Three Contributions to the Theory of Sex” is still as relevant to psychoanalysis as Shakespeare is to modern plays and cinema – He states right at the start of the book :

““The fact of sexual need in man and animal is expressed in biology by the assumption of a “sexual impulse.” This impulse is made analogous to the impulse of taking nourishment, and to hunger. The sexual expression corresponding to hunger not being found colloquially, science uses the expression “libido.”

So sexual impulse is not an out-of-the-world theory but is very much a part of our flesh-and-blood; not at all a secret which need to thrive in the siberian corner of the hustled up human society but it should culture in the living psyche of the individual and the societal life. That being defined, what is premarital sex, it’s the consensual sexual activities performed by unmarried individuals, or as this definition had evolved with time, premarital sex can now be defined as the consensual sex before marriage between a man and a woman – Now, by this definition, the idea is not to undermine, critic or to twitch eyebrow in any way the sanctity or the legality of gay, lesbian or other forms of consensual premarital sex but owing to the limited scope of this article and for the brevity sake of it, I’m just referring to consensual sex between man and woman before marriage – No pun intended. Now, lets pick the points from here to draw the line, ‘consensual’ ‘adult’ sex to satiate the urge of a ‘sexual impulse’ (which is as native to the human body as the urge to eat), what bars them to indulge – Nothing, lets face the simplicity of it, nothing bars them, it’s clean harmless most natural harmonic means to an end. This is of course with the caveat that safe sex and contraceptive practises are being followed. Well, the line we draw here is the fact that one’s sexuality is his/her own and all the decisions made regarding it should be made by the individual and not governed by societal and religious norms.

Nice mate, you still holding my hand – have come a long way from the first corner, and we aren’t far from the end. Lets talk about the scriptures, shall we? Fancy few biblical references?

Hebrews 13:4 : Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral.

Galatians 5:19-21 : The acts of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft;… I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.

Mark 10:6-9 : But at the beginning of creation God ‘made them male and female.’For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife,and the two will become one flesh.’So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.

Now, as we observe most of the references talk about consensual adult sex as an event post marriage and if not explicitly, but there are not much of a direct references or implications to an approval to premarital sex. Does that deter us? The way I see things is a tad little different. The scriptures are open to interpretations, if legal ‘marriage’ in the current setup of the society refers to the legal piece of paper which proclaims ‘man and wife’, I would argue that the scriptures were coded in days when there was cohabitant setup , conjugality but not much of a legal ‘piece’ of marriage – Not completely agreeing to the scriptures letter-by-letter neither refuting it completely ( because for both support and disapproval, one needs to posses the faculty of understanding the text completely, which alas, I’m inept), hence just by my limited logically understanding I believe that the marriage here refers to the marriage of the two bodies, the coitus, which indeed is the union of two forms of existence, man and woman; it’s the marriage of two minds which are pointing ti the concentrated direction of union, resonating at the similar dimensions of gravity resulting ultimately in the cynosure of unison, a complete stillness, the end, the death of the division between two bodies, the one-ness. Getting things to draw a conclusive line to this corner, the union of two bodies do not require a nod of the any religion or scripture, as human and its faculties make up the religion and religion do not make or dictate human.

Here we come to the third one mate, almost there. Look straight and listen up. Osho said that the world goes in vicious circles, first we create a pattern, then we force or forced to follow the pattern, next we cannot live a pattern. Similar is the situation here – Premarital sex is being pictured as a taboo by few of the societies around the world for sometime now, and this self imposed pattern is now being detrimental and causing a lot of noise now. A man or a woman should be in a liberty to decide if the partner ( in case of a marriage) is compatible sexually along with financial, psychological and social compatibility, why do we have to twitch or frown? The author of The Truth About Love points out that the feeling of intimacy is product by a chemical cocktail in the brain during sex which stays up to 24 hours or so – But anybody who had encountered an act of sexual intercourse before or after marriage would vouch that it created a sense of ‘knowing the other person better’, a sense which stay way more than 24 hours! I mean, the last reason for me or per say anybody to engage in sexual activity is for the ‘chemical cocktail’, rather it would for that wholeness of the relationship ( if already in a relationship) or to compketely explore what is intrinsically mine – My sexuality. I sometime find it silly that most of us try finding the meaning of our self right ‘outside’ of body and soul – It’s all in there. So if sex imbibe a better understanding of our own self, marriage a new equation with a different self ( individual) then why not clarify one’s own individuality before sorting out things with another being.

By the way, mate, missed mentioning, the point just had three corners!!

The following post is a part of the Indiblogger contest in association with Poonam Uppal’s newly released book –  Poonaam Uppal’s True Love – A Mystical True Love Story on Flipkart.

Psalm 40:1 -“I waited patiently for the LORD, he turned to me and heard my cry.”

Twigs, once old, long for the gusty winds

Age darkens their skin, green lust drops off

Vigor bids them farewell, leaf changes shelf

Food of light seems too harsh,

Droplets of water seem heavy

Urges chirping birds not to perch

Twig beckons heaviness to depart this life

Patience is not a virtue always.


Tarnished woman, waits for societal brickbat

Her unborn child famished in the womb

She breathes slow, with a heart to pour out

Yet the thin air that makes to her lungs

Does not reason out to stop mingling

It plays her filthy self, condensing inside

As she tries hard, alas, to strangle the flow

But the air is patient and longing for her to live.


Seed, rotten, wishes to be flushed off

Power of procreation is retarded in him

Death at the core encrusted with sober covering

Somber seed prays life for fellow seedlings

Life covers doom like shiny epitaph on a grave

The writing is clear and crisp

With broken yolk, sojourn would be horrendous

Patience, why? Seed would not live to live the moment of life.


I, at life’s mid, long for the end.

Am I being patient with myself?

Want to lurch the bevy of happy folks

Believe there are good times in life

Drink to the honeyed moments of youth

Weather the topsy-turvy doldrums of time

Someday when it comes, would egress out of darkness

Let my patience be patient, would be virtuous at the end.