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Saturday, July 6, 2013
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Friday, July 5, 2013
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Sunday, May 5, 2013
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Sunday, April 28, 2013
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Saturday, April 27, 2013
The friend of my life
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Tuesday, April 9, 2013
TOUCHING STORIES: Can I Borrow Rs.25/-?
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Monday, April 8, 2013
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https://www.google.co.in/intl/en/landing/nose/
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Steve Jobs: How to live before you die | Video on TED.com
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Sunday, April 7, 2013
The beauty in colours
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Sunday, August 22, 2010
Saturday, September 19, 2009
DiScOnTiNuAtIoN
There are some things which even the best of the philosophers and the best of the books outta there fail to understand… no I ain’t gonna talk about the tried and tested topic of love…its getting pretty boring…well there’s too much in this world other than the old topics of love and betrayal…hell man…we have got nagging tenants…bad cricket pitches…slippery basketball courts…bad taxi-drivers…bribe taking government officials…good music directors going overboard with movies by giving their own selves a nu-look and of course…we also have our own dear politicians…one fighting for a tall chair and the other for keeping it…one has rubbish in their head and the other rubbish in their mouth…and why the hell am I going to so damn far…if I dare take a look in my own neighborhood it won’t be a lot of time fore I find a Sircar or a younger daughter-in-law of the Aggarwal’s (dig through to the post b4 last for more reference)… there also will be more than a handful of kids who right at this moment are being given a nice lick for getting less than 80% I their last exam……Ummmm!!!....ya man…. That’s something different to talk about…
I can rap and whine the whole day about that topic in fact…might go on and create another Square Dance…but this time around its gonna be a bit different…why don’t ya all say something about your parents…Not the stuff about how much they love and all those things…but about the things which made you feel bad somewhere down the line…something your mum n dad said…a chocolate your dad didn’t buy for u or the channel your mum changed or the time when you were forced to do something…which you never really wanted to do….Spit it out right…would love to hear it from posts of the bloggers of the nation…
Ummm.....wat 'bout a girlfrnd....
Either way I can assure you my dear reader that I am not that kind of a guy who will like his wife to be understanding to the point that if she will wait by me more like a waitress than a girlfriend…
Well here we go…….
I would really like a tall girl…coz am 6 ft. so would like someone who would be at least near my shoulder…damn it… kissing girls too short than you is quite a nightmare…so I have been told…
As far as complexion is concerned I won’t have a problem unless and until she is of a complete “African” complexion… ;)
She has got be a bit “nottee”…even naughtiness to the extent of a bit of wickedness can be tolerated…
She has got to know how to speak her mind…
She has got to love my laptop… hell man…. I probably love my lappie more than I can ever love her :o
Either cute (not to be confused with C.U.T.E) or a beauty… Cuties preferred as beauty generally comes with brawns…”GENERALLY”…
Have to have a good memory… coz half of the time mine is left inside my lappie…
Have to remind me to wear socks of the same pair
Have to remind me to put on my deo before I go out….
Have got to have a good set of principles in life… (my dad always have liked the kind…says that they take firm decisions…n as such will be a lot easier on me to convince him about her….hehehe)
Have to be focused in life…
Got to understand that I can’t give up watching Naruto ,DragonBallZ, Tom and Jerry and Cartoon Movies…Coz I simply love them…
Should not be disturbing me when my ears are plugged and my face screwed up in concentration and inches from the computer monitor… it means that there is some stuff I can’t understand and that it’s floating around my head…
Has to accept the fact that I am a “Boneless chicken”-“Egg”-a-tarian…n thus not a complete vegetarian neither a complete non-vegetarian
Has to understand that I hate mobiles
Should not ever disturb me when I am watching a movie or reading a good book….
And last but as usual….never to be the least…. Has to understand that I can never ever cry cause the ducts have already dried up….
Well….. I know the list is long but you only fall in love once n I don’t really want to drown in it…
GuesS WhoS BacK
Today was one such day… sitting in front of my lappie on the wide terrace of our house…at approx. 20:52hrs I was staring at the blogsite of a certain “Roshni” when I dunno why I jus put down the lid of my lappie and started jus gazing at the moonless-starless-cloudless (?) night and asked myself one of all such questions…the same which cud make u face the exhilaration of the baby girl… “Why am I alone?”
And yes I did find the answer…
The weird heady cocktail of a dry vodka martini on the rocks gives a strange feeling of disillusion and illusion of the same time… quite very much the reason why I was stretching my hands out... atop a 100ft high tank..and taking a grab at the moon…trying to reach it like the mangoes in the Biswas’ house which had grown ripe over the summer… well… didn’t quite get it… and for quite a moment I felt as if the stars high above was mocking at my failed attempts at the moon… would have fisted them out if they were close enough…the garden of Eden was wearing off in my head…I climbed down from the perch… yonder across the leaden sky …somewhere along the parched land… somewhere hidden away from the eyes of the preying hunter…away from the sombre whisper of a lover… away from the soothing chime of time was a heart grieving the wound of timeless pain… the wound of a torn heart and a bleeding eye… the tears had already dried up… so he could not cry water and quench her thirst…. The illusion of joy is a strange thing … cause it makes you believe you are happy even when you taste the salty taste of tears… it gives you the illusion of life even when you are staring at the dark tunnel of death… it makes you believe that at the end of the day death is just a long holiday for all the broken souls with a coin underneath their tongue… it makes you believe that tomorrow is just a better day… that dipping your lips in the oily river of sorrow will extract all the leftovers of pain you have left in the trenches of the horrible heart lying in the wasteland… under a rock named “PAIN”… But…disillusion…
I climbed over the railing and looked over to a funnel of darkness …at the end there was a light… but…no… wait…what ….. is that her….a familiar silhouette…. I stretched my hand…to reach out…out to her….
The ground was too close…I closed my eyes…
“Why am I alone?”
Because I never knew what was to be loved…and when it came I was busy mixing up my illusions to thread my dreams…….
The Little girl found her baby doll…she gave a wide smile…her big brown eyes with a small cut just above the right brow… somewhere in the abyss of her heart she asked a question to her mom… “Why did she want to throw her baby doll?”
P.S :: Sorry guys for updating after such a long time…was just busy over stuff.. ”bad xcuse” sorry…eithr way…will try to be regular…
The Freedom calld Life
Atin was sitting on the window-sill… his leg stretched over the small table… a white canvas was waiting by his right while the rain and the romanticism veiled through the cigarette smoke waited on his left… he has been smoking all day… there was no one to nag him till he stopped… he lived here alone…with all his paintings and a cloth covered tall mirror… in a one room apartment with a small kitchen and a even smaller wash-room… the room was covered with green moisture from the ceiling… a patent of all the 800/- rent rooms in Kolkata… and the mixture of paint, damp moisture, and cigarette smoke gave the room the aura of a true studio…
The paintings of Atin was strange… they all had a kind of similarity in them… as if the same blood was running in the veins of all the portraits…and it seemed that you could have touched them if not for the smokescreen that veiled all his portraits…
But Atin was yet to draw his masterpiece… he was waiting for it… like a Little girl waiting for her daddy to come home with her new baby doll…
Today Atin was happy…quite strange though… his parents passed away a year ago… his Nandan evenings a few months ago… and his days at the gallery a month ago… and sometimes when Atin looked at his frail but long hands he felt surprised that life has not left him yet… he dipped a 10no. brush in small puddle of red paint and let it flow from the top of the canvas…the blob made its way down the canvas and through it…
And then a few brush-strokes here and there… he could see the form it was taking…the same familiar form all his paintings take…
He finished it in a matter of minutes … A strong gust of wind moved the cloth from the mirror… Atin groaned…he had to get up again to put it straight…Atin did not like moving from his cozy chair through the evening unless absolutely needed…and this needed his immediate attention…’cause he simply did not like staring down at his reflection as it made him feel that the person staring back at him was the same person but at the same time a stranger…
He got up and went in front of the mirror…and clutching the cloth he…
He could not help but stare at his reflection…the portraits around the room were the same and looked just like his reflection… A skull with a fabric of skin pulled over it… Atin stretched out his hands and reached for the reflection as if trying to dissolve it in a puddle of colors and veil it through a veil of smokescreen….
Somewhere in Atin’s past a guy sat by a window and made perfect rings of smoke…and as Atin stared down the rings he knew that these rings were perfect… So much so that even the painter Atin could not make such perfect rings…
The guys underneath the peepal was still smoking but have already turned the flip side of sombre…and so had the guys on the other side with the local liquor in their hands…The guys in the club still tried to hit the wooden coins into the pocket with their plastic striker… the younger wife of the Aggarwal’s was lying in the arms of the tuition teacher of her kids… her petticoat open and lying breathless… The Sircar’s had all gone to the Ganges… to remove the last remnant of the their Granny… and will then call it cremation… even the small kid who used to sit at the local garage would miss her more than the her eldest son…
Atin was still holding a half-burnt cigarette in his hand and staring down a reflection which he felt afraid to call his own…
~~FIN~~
P.S :: THIS IS PIECE IS INFLUENCED DEEPLY BY A PIECE READ IN A BLOG CALLED “Roshni’s Inner-World”..
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
10TH November
It was sumtym arnd 8:15 or 8:30… me n Anish… we hd entrd SPE first at sumtym arnd 6:45… btw… Anish is gud frnd of myn… she is mre lyk… a lost piece of marble… she is cute… n lyk… nyc… a gud grl to hang out with... so… at arnd 8:30 we dcided to tk a wlk arnd… bt not bein able 2 thnk of ne plc to hv a quiet walk undr d moonlight she drove her car to the lane bsyd Julien Day Elgin Road… it was prty dark n quiet… we wr lyk talkin crap 4 a long tym… thn sdnly dunno y I felt sndin a mail 2 sum1… I swchd on my Lappie… n den realized my account was pretty low… Luckily Anish had a gprs… cnctd… n strtd to mail d two mails I had 2… suddenly I realized tht thr was sumthng abv my shoulder… I lukd up… it was Anish’s hand… she was not high… she had only doused 3 cans… I turnd towards her…she was lukin at me in a strange way…she put her hand n touched my cheek softly… n put her hand acrs my head tuchin the bck of head… the glare of the car cumin frm the opposite side pierced the darkness… I turned… I had 4 mre scraps in orkut… I opnd my scrpbk… Anish’s hnd was slowly movin ovr my neck… givin me goosebumps… but no…dey wr nt frm her hnd… A scrp… I dint undrstnd wat she said… Anish held a tuft of my hair wid her left hand… n pulled me 2wrds her… I shoved her away… I was BROKEN… she lukd at me wid questioning eyes…n den openin her pink lips… ”Am I that bad… Or is it that you have bad breath… Or u don’t know how to kiss??”… I looked at her… n takin out the Mountain Dew can I had in my backpack I came out of the car… Anish followed me…n then slowly whispered in my ear…”Is it her??”…”Is it that scrap…???”… I preferred to keep quiet…She touched my hand and told me… ”Watevr had to happn has hapnd thrs nothing u can do…but did u do nethng wrng??”…I dint know at 2 say…I 4gt abt d mail I hd wntd 2 snd to her… I opnd my blog n saw a new Comment…Anish’s head was on my shoulder…I uploaded my nxt blog… n den snt d mail I hd 2 snt to Paro…my Coll frnd…a gud stdnt… n also a gr8 human bein… n cld her up to infrm her abt it…lft sum scraps on DG n on S…. scrpbk… he had gvn me a nyc bit of gyan but I by dt tym I had dcid wat to do… I lukd at Anish…she was lyk staring at the comp screen...aftr sumtym she whispered 3 words… 3 words wch mde me feel lyk I was stl alive… ”She still loves you..”
9:45pm::We had jus entrd TANTRA…Anish’s brother was already there wid his grlfrnd…we wnt ovr to our favuryt spot n strtd easin out…Anish mvd frwd to hld my hnd…I mvd awy…amng all the fun n frolic n joy outta thr dunno y…I was feelin lyk…Void…Empty…will she evr undrstnd…I kno… no more will she opn my scrps…n mre will she read my blog…but if she evr reads it she will kno 1 thng…dat Atreya stll loves her… he stll loves her a lot… tht she stll has sum1 who is always mre dan willing to be wid her… wen evr she needs him… Anish wnt ovr to brng anodr can of beer… Her bro had a shot of tequila…whl his grl took a shot of cognac…amng all d muzik… the grls… the lights… it flt lyk sumwhr thr is sumthng missin…
10:45pm::Anish was high… way too high 2dy… lyk falin all ovr me… Her bro n I dcided 2 cl it a dy…we rchd her home at anrd 11:45pm…her prnts wr nt thr… so… lyk me styin thr was not a prob… I hd alrdy tld bck at hme tht I wnt be rtrnin hme… tld dem tht we had a func to attnd at Swabhumi…
1:30 am::WOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the view frm Anish’s balcony at nyt…u see all the dried up roads…. The flyovr crossin… n the Parkcircus Maidan on d oder syd… lyk it was gr8… dint wanna slp… was not feelin lyk… sumtyms flt lyk sein wat’s goin on in Anish’s brodr’s room… he ws thr wid his grl… n by d fct dt he drove the car prty steadily was enuf to lemme knot ht dy hd a lng nyt ahd… sudnly I flt a hnd against my waist… I turnd arnd… It was Anish… her eyes… she dint hv a drop of drunkeness in her eyes… her eyes wr lukin at me wid… LUST…. No she’s not tht kinda grl…. But… den… I dunno… it flt lyk…. I cud smell her deo… it was the Woody flavor of CK… she movd her hnd across my cheek… I cud see her close… so-very close… evn her eyelids… her lips… they were so close… NO… I said to myslf… NO… thts wat I did…
2:30am::We bth hd swchd on bth of our lappies… we wre plyin Counter Strike… she was a Magger… but I was btr stl in assault… result I lost she won… clvr grl… at arnd 2:00 she rolld ovr n aksd me a strng question… “Arc… r u a man?? Dnt u feel nethng sleepin wid a grl who was lyk on quite a high a few hours ago… “NO…cuz as far as I kno u… u wnt get high unls ur hv a martini or a vodka… and I also kno tht u wr a pretty gud actor bck in ur skul days… So… it dint tuk me long to undrstnd tht u wr jus actin… So d question of getting on a high doesn’t cum... But yes I dnt undrstnd wt du u wnt frm me????.....”… “Neither du I kno”,said Anish, “I jus dunno… but I wud ask u 1 thng… Why dnt u wnt to evn lemme kiss u… after all its jus a kiss…”…… I lukd at her… my eyes n brain scavenging my grounds to let her kno the ryt answer… “Well… I dint feel lyk kissin anoder grl unless thts my wyf… I kno Anish its silly but its true… I dnt wnt to b hrtbrkn again in ne wy…”
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm………. Tht was a lng stry ryt…. N yes its tru not anoder figment of imagination… n also d fct dt I dint evn lay a fingr on Anish…. N yup…. 2dy is Sid’s b’dy… he’s in Manipal… n the title of the longest blog…well this one sud get it… one of the things… one of the experiences of my life whose meaning I will never find…
Monday, November 10, 2008
8TH November
8TH November
Hmmmmmmm……..sorry buddies for boring you out wid d previous blog….i kno…it was lyk….BORING…yup tht wud b a btr wrd….kno wat Lemon Tree…chkd mah scrpbuk….not d orkut1…mah own…d one I had in skul days…whr all of mah gud old buddies had scribbled… sumtyms wen I lie awake at nyt…well secretly….yup….I du hope dt sum grl calls me up…n profess her luv for me….but well wats d use of sein day dreams at nyt…sumtyms I ask myself m really a gaijin fool widout nethng lft 2 du…wats d use of prayin day in n day out….alwys hopin dat dt person returns to u coz of whom u cry…Sanj….I dunno whthr…I dunno….nethng…is it pain…is it d ass-lyk feelin of betrayin…HER…no…yes…no…I dnt wanna fall in luv…I hate it…why will I get commited to her…why????why I d god-damn hell…in d name of wch kinda DEVIL sud I b…wat is d gurantee tht Sanj will b thr wid me all of mah lyf…????why…..tell me…WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY???????????????????...DG I hate you….no…dnt thnk I m ngry n stuff….in fct I dunno…n yes…you have jus bcum a “memory”…a “memory”…to me…nthng else…Good or Bad I dunno….u hv jus bcum smtng wch well in1 wrd…A memory wch has its own glow...wch shines on but never burns out…PEACE OUT…