Another glass, another bottle

Another glass, another bottle,
Down my throat, yet I'm brittle,
I know so little, about me,
And the devil inside, won't let me be,
A million questions have been thrown,
Is there an answer in the unknown?
Another glass, another bottle,
Boils my body, like it were a kettle,
I tell myself, this can't be true,
This twisted tale, is Oh! So cruel,
And I shrink and shiver,
Run for cover,
Everywhere, yet nowhere,
And there I find another gulp, another swallow,
It fills no inch of a soul so hollow,
Yet, I need more wine,
for no path is clear,
I need more wine,
To live this fear,
Hand me a glass, another bottle,
I won't get drunk O my dear!

No one but Him.....

It was the unearthly hour of 3 AM and most of you were in deep slumber. Hours to go before the sun would peep through your windows and wish you ‘good morning’. For most of the world it was an ordinary day. But there was a big crowd that gathered there – men, women and children - they were not cramming for an entrance examination. It was not a railway station neither a bus-stand nor was this crowd going to board an aircraft. Their time had come and their long wait was almost over. Moments like these were very few in their lives - they could count them on their finger tips – it was moments like these one lived for. The dying minutes as the clock ticked away went unnoticed submerged in the clamor and frenzy of the crowd. They were allowed to get in one after the other. Countless men in the Khaki uniform stood alert in eager anticipation. The lathis that adorned these men were announcing a silent threat. Someone – tall, dark & broad shouldered was controlling the crowd’s entry. The anxiety around was palpable. The door was just minutes away but for those who were far away from the door it felt like a life time. The desire to reach the door ASAP was arguing with the thoughts of control that their mind was dictating to them. They knew that the argument was lopsided from the very beginning. Desire had to win and it did. Pushing each other forward they entered the dark room. The empty room was heavy with the air of expectancy. Their heart beat was already at an alarming high. They waited with bated breath, as though, their life depended on it. They were trying to calm their nerves by engaging in small talk, but it was amply clear that words that left their lips never reached the others’ ears. Their body was there but the soul was elsewhere. People back at home wouldn’t understand them; they had already termed them insane. Not that it mattered. They could already sense the jealous eyes that would pierce them once they would be out of this place. Someone shouted from atop and silence took over suddenly and moments later it gave way to an earsplitting sound. The room was filled with raucous shrills and cries that were loud enough to break through the walls. Their eyes twitched coz there was a brilliant light that hit them and the surrounding darkness caved in. The tension gave way to exhilaration. Their desire was about to be satiated. And then their jaws dropped and they stared with awe………..

.....as the screen read ‘Super Star Rajni’. The sun was still sleeping but inside it was broad daylight. There was unspeakable joy all around. ‘Endhiran’ had just begun.

(The author considers himself highly unfortunate for not having made it to this crowd. But he was lucky enough to get hold of a first-row ticket for the evening show)

Yet another start

Is that really you?

I must be imagining things,

Next to me, Is that your angelic face?

Ah! I wonder!

At the overwhelming joy it brings,

Cold air,

Rushing through my hair,

Blowing over my wrinkled face,

Cuts through my mind,

Memories surge at a heart wrenching pace,

Am I not different? Have I not aged?

Am I someone else? Have I changed?

But why do I carry the same old name?

Why do I still feel, it's all the same?

I'm humbled, I accept, I feel no shame,

It's a fresh lease of breath,

As if I have been exhumed from death.

A lesson learnt....

I went back to my terrace to find,
That of all the lamps that I lit,
Only one stayed alive,
And when a gush of wind blew,
I stood there merciless,
Hoping to watch it die,
And she bent, she swayed, she flickered,
And yet refused to subside,
I threw a wicked smirk at her plight,
And stood there,
To watch her give up against the wind's might,
As darkness engulfed her,
I still wonder how?
She danced and showed me one of the dazzling lights,
Stunned and ashamed,
When I felt small,
She put her arms around me,
And spoke with care and calm,
'You can wither and wilt',
'Or you can fight',
'You can succumb to the pressure', 'Or find moments to treasure',
'Its about you, not them',
'Its never about what you are made of',
'Its about what you choose to become'....

A Vice Choice ?

Levitate beyond the ceiling of certainty,
You are welcome in my land of ambiguity,
Slip silently into this inferno,
You' ll taste something, that you've never known,
All the wisdom, That you ever had,
And all those truths That you really dread,
Incarcerate'em in your deep folds instead,
Forget your allegiance, To all rectitude,
Give into the vice, Of a surreal substitute,
Like a squirt of water, That quickly seeps through the sand,
Let me sink and submerge in,
From your head till your end,
Let me tear you asunder,
And tame you in for a meek surrender !!

Why didn’t India turn into a Pakistan?

The last week’s incidents have provoked a few questions in my mind and I started finding my own answers to some of those.

One such question was why hasn’t India turned into another Pakistan? Nations across the world, today, do not seem to hold both these nations as equals on many fronts. India has raced ahead, while Pakistan is lagging behind. After all not long ago, these two nations were in fact one nation. What has happened so drastic that one nation is held in a better perception while the other is slowly getting to be known as the terrorist hub of the world.

Why didn’t India ever have a dictator, while Pakistan seems to alternate between a weak democracy and a dictator? Yes, India did have emergency during 1977, but then democracy returned to supremacy by throwing out - arguably one of the strongest and greatest leaders of this nation - Indira Gandhi. Even, she couldn’t pull this off for too long.

McClelland’s theory says that need for power is one of the motivating factors and I have no reason to believe that leaders in India were not as power thirsty as their Pakistani counterparts. Then why is it that Indian leaders sought this power seeking journey through a process of elections, while those on the other side of the border resorted to usurpation. Is it that there is something so Indian that none of them even try to usurp power in India through force? I don’t think so, after all, in 60 years we wouldn’t find such a dramatic change. The answers probably lie elsewhere, probably the opportunity never exists in India – and the fact that India was never ruled by a dictator is a harbinger to the fact that India has never – even remotely – resemble Pakistan in the last 60 years.

The reason for many of those questions in my mind is probably what is often touted as India’s greatest problems. It is its huge population and the problem of its heterogeneity - the constant strife between all those heterogeneous groups trying to establish supremacy over each other. It is difficult to find one face that appeals to all in India. No proof is more worthy than the fact that when Rajiv Gandhi, riding the wave of Indira Gandhi’s assassination had swept the electorate only to find great resistance from a literally unknown party TDP in Andhra Pradesh. A regional party emerged as the single largest opposition in the Lok Sabha. Seems strange but therein lies the strength of a pluralist India. Although the Hindu population might be the clear majority in numbers, this very majority is further divided into as many sections as one can imagine. Even to have one face representing all of this majority is an uphill task. That explains why, India after the 1980s, barring the Rajiv Gandhi’s government has always elected a coalition at the center. Even in India’s states, this trend seems to be catching up with both pre and post election alliances. In the wake of the recent Mumbai blasts I found many comments posted on the internet that India should be ruled by a dictator for some time. While I do not find it a possibility at all, for argument’s sake I don’t think it would be better than the current form that we have. We have an example right next door, do we need more evidence as to which is better?

Judicial activism in India is also to be given its due. The fact that legislature actually doesn’t sit above the judiciary is yet another reason. The “fourth estate” (while most of us may want to bring in comments on TRP and media getting out of hand etc...) has also played its part. In fact the media has been given enough freedom and that doesn’t make the job of any usurper any easier! I can go on and on and find as many reasons. That was going away from the crux of this article though.



India, thankfully hasn’t become a Pakistan because there was never a chance. Period.

The Jumbo jet has landed

It's too late and many have probably forgotten but I thought I'd post what I did write on Nov 2nd for this man.

The Jumbo jet has landed ….& will not take off again. No more would Indian wicketkeepers scream “aiga..good one jumbo”…when the ball takes off unannounced & the ball wouldn’t take off ever again the way it did for the past 19 years. Wicket keepers are safe now, they don’t probably need helmets to protect themselves against..ahem..spinners! Batsman of the world celebrate today, one of their greatest tormentors has called it quits. Anil Kumble has bid us a farewell today.

I read about Kumble when he toured South Africa. On South African bouncy tracks, a spinner, who apparently couldn’t spin the ball an inch, was making their batsmen dance to his tunes. It took some time for me to realize that Vinod Kamble wasn’t mis-spelt as Kumble. However, in the Hero Cup that ensued he made me and probably the whole of the world stand up and take notice.

Then we said, ah but he can’t spin, he is a slow medium pacer. Well, some batsmen who seemed to have figured out that he is a “slow in-swing kinda bowler”. It is history now that most of those batsmen committed hara-kiri coz of this assumption. He was ridiculed for not being able to spin the ball away – but he went on & on & on.

The cricket folklore always reminds us of Tendulkar’s last over against South Africa in the Hero Cup semifinal. Kumble scalped 6/12 in the final against West Indies – the West Indies didn’t know what hit’em and before they knew it was all over! Kumble never did get the attention that Tendulkar did.

Remember Azaruddin? His blitzkrieg against SA in the Kolkata test. Well Kumble made a neat and fighting 88 there. It was his highest score till he made a century on a trip in England recently – when no other Indian reached the 3 figure mark through out the tour! When Kumble raised his bat I couldn’t stop admiring this man, it just felt so great. Where has been the recognition that he deserved - probably he deserved far more than any of the Fab four!

He was dropped from the One day side unceremoniously – Gosh – he was India’s highest wicket-taker in the 50-over format too! They questioned his legs and body. How could they? In Antigua, in 1999, wasn’t it Kumble who bowled with a broken jaw – against the physician’s advice to earn India a win? He scalped Brian Lara that day and almost got Carl Hooper too – it was off a no-ball sadly. He couldn’t get India to win but that incident remains etched in my memory for ever and I would rank it higher than a troubled (owing to his back pain) Tendulkar’s 136 against Pakistan at Chennai.

Finally he was made the captain; we said it is a retrograde step. Derision took over. Old guy? But then he started the downfall of the invincible Australians. The derision for his captaincy continued till he called it quits. He is too old, a wearing body? When all Indians were dropping catches just yesterday, Kumble ran more than 20 feet and caught one between his injured fingers. Dare say too old?

But he has called it quits today. In the interview he said he is still learning to spin the ball – oops – how would one explain the 619 wickets then? Ah less than Warnie – but boy Warnie never had a test century against his name! I wonder what would have happened if Kumble did spin the ball! How would one explain the 10/74, which only one another bowler in the history of cricket had ever achieved.

We knew he would have gone away – sooner than later – but why were we after his head?

To the greatest bowler India has ever had and to my favorite bowler of all times – I owe an apology for all the derision that I was also part of. I owe him a heartfelt gratitude. “Thank You Jumbo. I will miss you.” Till today I’ve never knew you were so important coz when you called it quits – I cried.

Back again!

It's been a long time since I have posted something here. I have left Mumbai and am back home at Hyderabad. Many things have happenned...but none too worse than the blasts in Hyderabad and none too better than my sis giving birth to her second kid, awesome plumpy pinkish cheeks of the newborn. I do not have much to say, not much of writing happenning these days...but may be it's time to spice up my life again..on this front that is...everything else is quite spicy..spicy in true Andhra style!

The greatest change and the most distressing one is that I have added another year!! So I am yet another year closer to not being on this beautiful earth! Have you read Steve Waugh's "Out of my Comfort zone" - that is what I am reading these days...

Random Thoughts...

Someone at the lunch table in the canteen said this today. Every man's struggle starts with the most basic of the needs, he dreams of having the best meal on the plate everytime and suddenly somewhere, that very meal becomes the last priority of his life.

How many have I seen skipping lunch or going too late to the canteen for biting the leftovers? Too many. May be oneday, someday, not too far away we will have lunch, dinner and sleep "enabled" by our "To do lists". May be reminders on the MS Outlook would "support" us well or even SMS from our service provider who cares more about us than we do ourselves! Value-added services, else business is lost!

Militancy, Governments, Children and Mahatma

Militants,
States and empires,
Blood sucking vampires,
Innocence assumed,
One more magazine loaded,
An announcement made,
Dogs can have the dead humans’ bones,
Humans wait,
Our food isn’t yet born,
We are still searching,
Lets get on first with some more killing.

Airplanes,
Feeding new found bombs,
Shelling stale breadcrumbs,
Right next to human carcass,
Peace,
Brief,
An unknown face,
Lying adjacent,
A known disease,
He’s hit by a raining bullet,
Children shrill,
Women cry,
Men, no idea!
Some buried, some fled,
Some, may be burying a few more dead,
Some wanting a little more blood shed.

Right to live,
Snatched away,
Right to kill,
Is the world’s new way?
It’s here to stay?
Encased in a silent cage strong,
Another child grows wrong,
A militant is newly born,
Picks up a gun,
Points at the world, aimless
A grudge purposeless,
Another story wanderlust.

TV,
Solemnly propagates,
A few gruesome videos,
A few talk shows,
Our lust to display,
A false mercy,
Follows duly,
A tear is dropped,
At most two,
A calm phrase uttered,
Quite untrue,
“I wish I could offer some help”
“Anyways, how cool looking is my new denim?”

“Make merry”,
“Happy birthday”,
“A few were slaughtered just yesterday”
“Oh!”
“Anyways, lets go”
At a drunken revelry,
Fake smiles present,
At a far away distance,
Peace is absent,
So trivial,
Death of another million?
Moods jovial?
Comfortable oblivion?
Time being,
Happiness satiated,
Hungry teeth,
Still searching,
Permanent hatred is growing,
In the shape of a monster, Frankenstein.

In future,
We’d have no shelter,
A child’s birth,
Besides his father’s death,
Everyday,
Sun peeps in,
The world screens the child a movie,
On the theatre of a sordid life,
Night falls, Sleep vanished,
What do we expect of him?
Placid recital of holy hymns?
Nursery rhymes
Of lists of crimes,
He’s survived in the shadows,
Of retribution and a rusted gun,
A loaded one,
Peace on earth,
While he’s seen hundreds of abject deaths.

The difference,
Between a militant and a soldier,
A constitution and a law?
Is just a uniform?
Just a licensed gun and a nuclear bomb?
Who gave them the license to kill?
God?
Terrorist and anti-terrorist,
Signing raw deals,
Of silent killing,
Of civilians weak,
No escape,
From both the clutches,
No backdoor exits exist.

Face it,
A vicious cycle,
For ever,
Don’t you yelp,
Not even the omnipresent can help,
Our lost words,
Even before they halt at our own ears,
No echoes,
Death followed by death,
Credit cards won’t buy another breath,
No sound trace,
Eternal silence,
Humanity buried,
Six feet under…

Hey world,
I have an angry question,
Can you buy me life with someone’s death?
Will you survive a chemical breath?
Hey world’s dearest children,
Pay attention,
Listen,
Let me take you back in time,
Tell you a story of a man so fine.

Thirty crore slaves,
And merciless distant masters,
A few masters were killed,
A few slaves were murdered,
The cycle repeated,
And slavery endured,
Then stood a man,
Hunched back and frail looking,
No sophisticated gun,
No wasting bombs,
He stood strong and aplomb,
Patience, perseverance, Silence,
In our words,
A huge project delivered,
Indian Independence!
Weapon of choice,
How Silly?
Your belief belied?
Was simple truth and nonviolence?
Would we call him a fool?
If he is born today?
In your annals of crumpled,
Long forgotten history,
That victorious warrior,
Is called Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi!

Is his story to be shunned?
Or is there a lesson to be learnt?
Even when we know, why do we pretend?
Isn’t his way the Hobson’s choice,
That’ll let the world go stunned?
Lets condemn killing of a human being,
He may be a Pathan in Afgan,
Or a resident of Iraq or Palestine,
Or the one in the Mumbai train,
Or the one in Lebanon,
All of them dead in vain,
Killed may be by the militants,
Or even by our very own Governments.

A flower’s lament

Offered at places of your worship,
And as wreaths at your graves,
Adorning your trysts and courtship,
My sacrifice, how many more days?

Don’t you have any mercy?
Can’t you be a little kind?
Don’t I look happy?
When I’m still alive?

Can’t you let me blossom slow?
When did you turn so blind?
Won’t you let me toss when the wind blows?
And spread fragrance around?

You nip me & strip me,
Bind me in entwined yarn,
Why not let me be?
Just the way I am.

A mountain of grief,
It’s the fate of a virgin flower,
But the tear drops on the leaf,
You mistake for the morning dew or shower!

Psychotic Trance

I heard my pounding heartbeat slow,
Faintly though,
A sudden halt, a crescendo,
Someone was performing a depressing melody,
Just a few miles away, may be,
A near silent rhythmic score,
Followed by screams of encore...encore,
Someone said, "Come on in",
A clear thumping,
Someone was approaching,
Something was heavily pouring,
It smelt like flesh,
And warm blood - home delivered - garden fresh,
Overflowing in beer crates,
Gaunt looks on every face,
Pale corpses,
Clasping my body,
Blue venom,
Faint vision,
Deep pools of dried up blood,
Am I the brand-new dead?
Someone was pulling me from behind,
Tying me down with twigs,
My breath was dying,
Red sweat beads & cooked skin,
I stooped,
The pulling stopped,
They were dancing naked,
Washing flesh afloat,
Down their throats,
Nibbling on spoils of creation?
Anointing me for an unworthy immolation?
Someone held a mirror up to me,
I can't see,
It can't be,
Last wish?
Before joining the list?
"Someone help me! Alive, someone left?"
Has Sandy come home yet?
Bips is flying tonight,
Someone is walking,
Over the rubble of death,
That has wrapped the naked earth,
I sunk in to hide myself,
Making my way in,
Falling down fast,
Oft,
Hitting something soft,
I shut my eyes and shrunk into almost nothing,
Someone is still searching,
The drumbeat is nearing,
Awfully clear,
Melancholy served, chilled and pure,
It’s pounding...Have I died?
A sudden silence ensued,
And then an earsplitting blast,
Awake!
Ghastly dream - thankfully lost,
Half eyes open and half shut,
Half alive,
The other half, of course, dead!
Festooned, to a wrecked ship's broken mast,
No one still home,
Darkness whispered,
She had a decayed breath,
Mourning over frozen death?
"Someone home?"
She said, "None",
"Please go away,I can't let you stay",
I uttered a scream,
And then a query,
"Did you drop a coin on the floor",
"What?”Replied Sandy,
He's home, Strangely!
Then a mumble violent,
Almost a war cry,
"Did you drop a new one-rupee coin on the floor in your room"
Silent nod, Confusion,
Can see no connection,
An unknown sadness,
My liberated madness,
"Yes, but you were in deep sleep and its just a tinkle!!”
My dying whisper said,"What? A tinkle of a dropped coin?
Can't be...It was a violent explosion!"

(I stay along with Sandy and Bips in Mumbai. This is about a dream I had a day after the July 11th blasts in Mumbai.)

Kill Me O' Brother!

Come here,
Come near my dear,
Let me feel your face,
Let me see if you are a human at all?
I wanna ask you,
Where from stems your hate for me,
Don't tell me your tall lies,
Don't give me your vicious smiles,
Do you know,
Not quite long ago,
We were blood brothers,
And now you want my blood, brother?
Ok, Common go ahead,
Kill me!
Go right ahead,
May be I'll give you some peace,
Atleast when I am beheaded.

Aftermath...2 days later

I could see Mumbai back to its bustling pace,
Right back to its mad race,
There was a strange stench in the air,
There still was fear,
But there was a false will to dare,
Yes, there were watery eyes and weak smiles,
and there was a loud eerie silence,
But there was a forlorn search for life between all those deaths,
I plucked some hope from this crowd,
'Get on with life', the message was clear and loud,
Then I took a cab and headed to a hospital,
Written on it's walls,
Was "Did he make it or did he not?",
Lists that told you that life, for some, was suddenly short,
I'll never know, the fear in those who glanced at these,
and that buried feeling of those who were slaughtered to eternal peace,
And then I saw,
White walls and white bedsheets,
Red blood and pale faces,
How I wish,
My memory could erase this dreadful picture,
My wounded heart could use some suture,
In mad fury,
I ran and ran till I banged into someone,
He shouted back, "ARE YOU BLIND?",
I mumbled, "Well I wish I really were",
"I just wanna feign that I really don't care",
Coz, Everyone seems resigned to fate,
Coz, Everyone is offering a phony fight.

11 / 7, Mumbai

My eyes are red and wet,
My mouth has gone dry,
My lines are so empty and my words are so hollow,
Its a bitter pill I have been forced to swallow,
Someone asks me how am I?
I am not dead but am not even alive,
Was it just a far off blast?
Only I know how its ripped open my heart,
Am I still brave? Am I not tired?
Am I to let these thorns prick me in my stride?
May be I' ll take a walk outside my mind,
May be I' ll have to walk yet another mile.

World of Madness

Fancy cars and credit cards,
Techie gizmos and coloured liquids,
Silicon chips and silicon flesh,
You go back late to a home so plush,
Endless work but workout centers?
Missing lunch breaks and the heart breaks over sensex,
Your woes on tax, you'll never relax,
Coz you think of money,
Even while you make love to your honey,
Welcome to the world of speed,
Welcome to the world of greed....

Our Story

Yesterday I was born,
Tomorrow I'll be dead and gone,
No one's gonna think of me, anymore,
I've been the same with'em, like many others before,
But it ain't the same, when it comes to us,
We've been through kisses and been through the fatal curse,
I've played my part in our wily game,
I've left you more than just my name,
So I hope, that when I die,
Etched in your memory, I'd never subside,
Forget me not, my only foe and friend,
Talk to me when I can't listen,
You'd hear me, even if I won't ever talk,
And I'd love you true, even if you can't love me back.

Unchained Slaves

Our endless greed,
that seems so right for a moment and so wrong the very next,
From it's womb our desire takes yet another birth,
We never send it right into the tomb, we never kill it to everlasting death,
We let it grow, play right into it's hands and begin many a quest,
How foolish is it when we look for water in the middle of a desert ?
"Isn't it meaningless?", no one even asks,
And dare to speak the truth no one really does,
Desire after desire brings back only the thirst,
We continue our false voyages under insane pretexts,
We run after nothing with youthful fervour and zest,
To conquer the unwanted we play our best shots,
Possessed by our desire, we do grow, but only smaller and smaller,
And shrink into unrecognisable emptiness,
We do end up winning, sometimes at last,
But don't we truly know, we are seeking joy at the saddest feast,
Even a candle that fondly burns,
Knows in the end to put off the fire on it's head,
But we continue to breath desire, through out the day and right through our bed,
As every next day drags into the night,
We kneel down not bothering to offer even a feeble fight,
With arms folded, eyes closed and the head hung in solemn prayer,
We grow afraid of our desire and yet fake being brave,
The truth though, is something all of us do know,
That we are hoping to find lasting comfort only in our grave.

Random Thoughts....

An abortion is when for a moment of your pleasure or may be your complete ignorance, someone else pays heavily, pays with an entire lifetime even before being born and not one so much as bothers to even acknowledge such a great sacrifice !

Why I ride a Bicycle to Office!!

Sounds funny to most of my friends and peers that I ride a bicycle to office. Infact I have been jeered at for doing so but I fail to understand why it is considered as lowering one's status. It does pain when I know that I have been laughed at for riding a bicycle, when riding means a lot to me.

It is hard to imagine why my friends who have also done thier MBAs can't do some simple calculations. If one looks at the system called organisation - it revolves around the concept of raising liability to create assets, (fixed or in this age of knowledge even human beings) which provide you value - or to point precisely they are called profits. Isn't that business or for that matter even our personal finance is all about? Let us see..

What does one get when one raises debt from the bank (debt is a liability!!) and buys a car (thats a fixed asset) and commutes daily in it. I forgot to add that current liability goes into buying fuel (assuming that one uses the credit card for buying the gas) and drivers pay if one engages a driver. What have you got on your current assets side - a portion of your salary. Car's EMI does shrink one's working capital right?? What do you finally get? - comfort (of intangible value) and status!!

How I wonder - times have changed a full circle - there was a day when owning assets was status. Now how much of liability you have and how much is your credit limit on the card is a symbol of status! Put simply owning a liability becomes status, while one's personal finance is bleeding!

Take my cycle now
1. Costed me Rs 2700/-. The asset was sweated in roughly 3 months time. I spend around Rs 800 p.m. on my conveyance to work.
2. More importantly I sweat myself - Lost a few kgs - and have a flat tummy (may not be as flat as that of Susmita or Aishwarya)
3. Reached office in 25 to 30 minutes on an average covering 11 kms. Sounds strange but my cycle moves at 25 kmph - no comfort lost owing to its sleek design and light weight.

As opposed to

Traveling by bus which means 45 minutes because it takes a longer route. Car or bike would mean a hit on my current assets. Not to mention the lack of physical exercise !
So what was so wrong in riding the bicycle? What status have I lost? I am definitely not interested in owning a car, which I really don't own because its bloody mortgaged to a goddamn bank which breaths down my neck every month for EMI !

A bicycle gives me a feeling of freedom, I don't feel claustrophobic when I sit on it coz I am connected with the world, there is no metal around me. It gives me pleasure, it gives me fun and I love riding it - well the brighter side, my dear bicycle gave others too a chance to laugh for a while even if it was to jeer at me!!

Organisations are like...

Organisations are like buses or may be trains or even flights. They are going from one place to another. But you may not be going all along from the start to the end. You get in somewhere, you get out somewhere and catch another bus or train or may be a flight. Changing buses is like changing organisations. Your destination is elsewhere, it might not even be the destination of any of these buses, but they let you travel with them and let you get down at important junctures where you can find another connecting mode of transport. Changing seats in the same bus may be a change of assignment, transfer or a promotion or sometimes even a demotion. Changing compartments is like a cross functional shift. Mind you, if you don't pay for the ticket i.e. if you don't perform, they'll throw you out and you might end up at a place where finding another bus would get really tougher!!

My friend Sabya says

Life is like a cup of tea that you sip to find too bitter… but don’t bother enough to fetch you a few cubes of sugar. You continue to sip and finally find un-dissolved sugar at the bottom of the cup. All you then do is lament or may be just sport a wry smile at nothing…

Random Thoughts Again

The world is like a tiny puddle of rainwater. As you pass by, you just manage to notice may be the dirt in it. If you care to stay and take a closer look, you will find insects in it swimming around creating tiny lovely ripples. If you take a deeper look you will find your reflection and feel like a happy child... and as you continue to gaze through, you see the sun and the sky surrounding it, all the beauty of nature packaged for you in one tiny puddle. But wait....do you see just the dirt or do you bother to see yourself and the beauty surrounding you? Its all there to be seen but would you strain your eyes a little more?

Through Ups & Downs...

Today nothing seems to have given up its existence,
and nothing seems to change, come whatever happens,
Here I smell your sweet fragrance...
& there I am surrounded by thick darkness...
Now I listen to your voice for endless moments..
& then I hear tunes of utter silence..
Today it seems to be your warm presence...
& tomorrow it may be sad thoughts of your blatant absence..
Sometimes I am alone, without you...
Sometimes I am alone, even when I am with you...

Random Thoughts

1. Good old days are actually bad for they have deserted me with no sympathy and the bad old days are actually good for the same reason.
2. What ever I see is just the past even if I continue to live in the future. My eye is a camera and uses light as a means to see an image. What ever my eye captured reaches my mind after sometime be it a millionth of a second. I can only see my past even while living in the present.
3. There is nothing called impulse. Mind being a data bank stores every situation in the form of a mathematical model. When similar stimulus is given the same response comes out. Thats what we call impulse.
4. People should never tell someone not to carry their opinions. This very opinion that one should not carry opinions is an opinion in itself.
5. I am happy with your silence and comfortable oblivion about my existence in your mind. For even when you shall desert me you leave me with the same, your silence and the oblivion in your mind.

All That Belongs To Me

Vamshi-my name & my chinese notebook of thoughts, my meaningless poems written in red sketch and pasted on the walls along side my crooked drawings of the unknown girl's face , The box guitar which I can't play and the flute that though never played likes me only because I carry its name, the guitar or the flute tutor whom probably I ll never meet, The tumbler for my morning litre of water, & my morning's share of cold raw milk drunk from the packet itself, & the missing breakfast in my life, the lonely jog at the sea and the sand and shells which awfully smell at my home, My trips into my 4 almost empty rooms and life with this new found home..

My Compaq Presario and, the feeling we both are inseperable, the computer & me...Rafi, Kishore, Mukesh, Lata, Simon & Garfunkel, Pink Floyd, Doors, Ghulam Ali, Jagjit, Gult, Tamil & Bengali sangeet, Scent of a woman, Rain Man, Life is beautiful, Sholay, Forrest Gump, that follow.. My liking for Microsoft Excel...the exhausting music & movie collection which I cant completely polish off in my life and the hundreds of books on the shelf that cant be read either... in my life ever and my efforts to conquer these myths!

The ball room dances for bitter sweet symphony although alone fill my room wih delight so unknown....The all new Fast Track watch bought in an exchange offer and the craving for the old watch that made me procure it back again...Rabindranaths Gitanjali ...never opened though! The chess board on which a game was played quite long ago.. infact 3 chess boards ...the dreams about cooking for myself and the plate in which food was consumed quite seldom..the Iron box that rarely pressed a piece of cloth..The letters to my mom which were never posted and the inspiring notes for the 15 month old niece in all languages known to me and the painful fact that she is just too young to read or comprehend..The har jeb mein rang Nokia.. the first 100 I drew from my first salary account, and this "Idea" mobile connection that could well change my expenditure exorbitantly every month just under the "Phones Head".

& The bank balance thats always duly nil on the 29th of every month. the cheap pendant dangling down my neck in fond memory of a dear friend ...The rare Sundays that are not spent at work and the desire for sunday mornings to be spent all alone on the unnamed hill tops with no shirt on while sweat drips from my every pore.....and my lavish buffets at Taj that never give me the same feeling of sumptousness like the cheap food at the road side motel and the cheap matka kulfi of probably the only paaji at Vizag that ensues my every dinner, the unneccessary collection of the identical kulfi pots at home,

The mast garam elachi chai or the black coffee both devoid of saccharine to soar my spirits ...& the occasional cheap beedi that I furtively smoke...the greatest liking for Chocolate Mousse...the new born awakening desire for bottles of Aqua Fina with mouthful of raw ginger on the rare saturday free evenings. The mattress & the pillow that get used only for 4 to 5 hours a day, & all the furniture thats so blatantly missing at home, missing lillies in my lone balcony, My irritating busy ness in someone else's business and yet the motivation that says duniya hiladenge hum kabhi na kabhi...

Genuine Jockey, XLRI T shirts, Wardrobe of Peter England light weights, The white kurta that I want to wear and the photograph that I want to take of mine while chewing gud meeta pan, The fond for the color blue and my everyday's search for something new, The woman who washes my clothes everyday & cleans my home but for her weeklyoff and the longingness to see her atleast once in my life actually working..

Slip Ons and Nike Joggers, Ganuchi & Cherry Blossom which are never easily found when required, and the company bus horns that are so impatient at me in the morning..the office keys I always forget and the spare key in my colleagues room that always rescues ...the lock of my home that keeps missing at crucial periods... the fond paragon chappal which never leave home, the suitcase packed with dreams for the unknown journeys to pretty much unknown destinations and all the unconfirmed tickets I always travel on.... my boss's lack of concern for my "losing" time in the train travel !..

Colgate Total, Vicco Vajrdanti,Axe effect, park avenue Sabun.. my Gillette collection that never will change in my life coz the beard is too slow in growing big, the lone mirror at the wash basin, the very short hair and the hair-gels longingness for its utilisation and the cold water from the showers in the bathrooms that I dread yet sustain becoz of my oblivion for buying a heater and then my question when will this bottle of shampoos gonna finish! The plain glasses bought for fashion and the shyness to wear them that keeps them only at home.The efforts that I make to pump in energy into the else would be a lonely bored life. Efforts fail but atleast the boredom dosent remain. Lifez a journey not a destination, destinations are a boredom but journeys aint so...but what if the journey itself is the destination like in case of nomads!!

5W & 1H..I mean Business

When you want to write a poem,
Dont care about WHAT is the rhyme,
If you have got the right meaning,
Your poem would just be enough fine,
To make you mean what you should!

When you want to hum a song,
Dont care about WHERE is the tune,
If you have got the right wording,
The song would have just enough a chime,
To make you croon like you should!

When you want to live your moments,
Dont question HOW good is your life,
If you can do the right kind of dreaming,
Your moments would just be enough large,
To let you savour what you should!

When you want to fall in love,
Dont care about WHEN is the time,
If you have got the right feeling,
Your love would just be enough blind,
To make you feel what you should!

And....When you are going to read this one,
Dont wonder as to WHY ever did I write,
Since it was asked for by you...the WHO..my friend,
So, You would find just enough a line,
That' ll let you know that I fondly would!

The Rigidity Of My Rightness

Glaring with proud eyes,
And standing up for my solitary righteousness,
As if u were too blind to see the truth,
My voice persisted,
Although confused and weak,
As if u had no choice,
But to listen to my hollow words,
I always told u,
I am right and you are wrong,
For these were the words of my ostentatious conviction,
No one ever heard me say,I am wrong,
For these were the words of my veiled weakness,
I put my selfish and sordid deeds,
Into the jargon of noble and moral words,
I made the whole scene phony,
Only to justify my responsibility of being called right,
Never did I learn to apologize,
Did u hear me say…The language of the head is thought,
And the language of the heart is feelings,
But I never knew the meaning,
For the meaning of the word lies in the people,
Yet I had the courage to point a finger,
But lacked the wisdom to defend my blunders.

Never Ending

In the calmness of the roaring sea tide,
In the green life of the fallen dead tree,
In the cozy warmth of the dark winter nights,
In the deafening sound of the sorrounding silence,
In the cool breeze that makes me dreadfully sweat,
In the luxurian comfort of my exhausting dearth,
In the hectic trail of my lasting sojourn,
In the unspeakable rejoice of my tears and mourn,
In the bountiful serenity of my mad rage,
In the unraveled mysteries of a final page,
In the eternal shine of the gloomy eclipse,
In the bony softness of my parched lips,
In forlorn hopes, I searched thee,
Beckon me with your voice so divine,
Throw me into an entrancing bliss,
And enthrall me in a lifelong kiss,
My Love, My joy, Where art thou?
While all the nature is crushing me down,
Come over My Love and atleast kill my heart,
In the misery of an estranged life..... dont let me last!!

Brave Hearts

When thier back is against the wall,
When they've had a few close calls,
When they are ridiculed after every fall,
Very few put thier head down and prove wrong,one and all.

My Love Strikes Again

I ran and I ran,
Till my legs felt like stone,
In search of a face never known,
In the wake of the sun and the pouring rain,
I launched a foray in never ending vain,
For a place where I ve never been,
Wanting someone whom I ve never seen!!
I fail and I fail again,And wonder over this poignant pain,
I muster all my inspiration,
And continue on my lonely voyage of a clueless desperation,
I cry and I die,
For the one who can cover my face,
Dry my tears with her warm embrace!!

My Love

A psychological state of inspiration or desperation I am not quite sure but these lines I penned down on the beachside alone represent my mind, heart & soul and the unknown mission I am onto-- may be? I do not even know did she take birth or did she die after having done so. I am not sure if I d ever meet her and express my distress for years without her along my side. I do not know if my life is just a second away for ever from reaching her and she d always be ahead of me, teasing me in a pleasing way. I do not know who is she, how does she look like. I do not even know if I d find the ever lasting peace in her. I dont know if I d ever get a chance to strangle myself in her dark strong tresses until death. I hope she exists and exists only for me. I dont know if I am in love with her. I am sure of just one thing & thats the fact that I am not frightened by the unknown and I d ever remain in search of the unknown, the gal so esoteric and yet simple, the gal so bubbling and yet calm. Am I searching her in the wrong places, but I d find the rightness in all my wrongs for I d wait all along. And so it goes my journey for her and she can only be seen by the blind probably!!

A Bong Encounter

I was travelling from Vizag to Hyderbad yesterday and I happened to be fortunate to have a good looking air hostess (All airhostesses are good looking??) on board.To my dismay, (although it was amazement before the whole scene between us ended) I found that she was once upon a time a graduate in statistics from Calcutta. ..Bong babe!! "Amaar Jibon, Tumaar Chorone Utshargo Korlam" I hummed a bong song.."I prostrate My life at your feet!!"

After the ritual of announcements, I approached the woman and tried to strike a conversation. Incidentally she happened to be a Hyderabadi for a while,(I assumed she was still a resident of Hyderabad) & further probing into details fetched me her phone number, although,the statistician that she was, she handed over her number with a sweet small whispered phrase,"Its just an estimate". And carried forward to her seat, cabin, cockpit, whatever...Now, thought I, I missed out on the vital statistics!!! err..Dont misinterpret me, Its the address of hers that I am talking about, turning the estimate to the actual phone number could easily be possible with the correct address.

Disappointed, I was, and grabbed the newspaper to find a statement by an eminent politician in the state of Andhra that he would strive to bring the income of every individual in the state to an above average level. Hmmm...great expectations, I thought. Then the engineer part of my brain told me, "How can everyone be above average!!No matter how much the increase be, the minimum and maximum do exist for arriving at an average." Cow Herd mentality, every dumb ass gives the same statement without understanding the implications!!I took pride for a second in being an engineer and then I thought now that I am manager, atleast I make believe so, How does statistics help me, if it does at all. Most of the decisions that I take are based on a proven track record, If this happened with that, 99 times it will happen the 100th time as well!! 95% confidence level Boss this would happen...5% is to avoid getting fired.

Hold, I am getting into theory now.I heard my Boss say a lot of times "It's not the "figures" themselves,. It's what you do with them that matters.'' How true!! Let me do...So I got back to the phone number adventure, With the breakfast that the woman served me, re"VITAL"sed was I. and bang I went for finding out the address of hers after she had finished serving. The probability that I would get the address of any woman by asking her directly is ZERO, in India, and especially those who are with Indian Airlines. I dared to dream!! and increase the probability by a 10 to the power minus 100 at least. I asked her rather indirectly "where do you stay in Hyderabad when you are in the city?"...

Lo & Behold!!Comes the answer "Indian Airlines flight number xxxx"& a smile although to say, "You are too young for these tricks." I concluded while she bid me good bye at Hyderabad after the flight landed. "Statistics (& Statisticians as well)... reveals crap and conceals what I want..err..recall the phone number incident to avoid getting me wrong."

Another sad day in my life :-(

My Fear - My Nemesis

What am I afraid of in my life? Death and whatmore? My fear can only emerge from the very gripping thought of uncertainty. When faced with an environment that is unknown, fear strikes with all its ammunition and strikes strong. It is my life's biggest nemesis if not the only one. I am thrown into shackles with utter disdain by this humongous monster. My mind starts going berserk and the heart dosen't feel left behind either, extending a rocking quaver to my body as though I am freezing to death. Shivers chill my spine. I find no time to bring some rationale to my mind and some courage to my heart. My shoulders droop, legs feel weak, mouth goes dead dry and the ears cant listen to anything. Fear gets cancerous, like gangrene it spreads across my body and takes complete possession of me. But it still leaves my eyes, which keep glancing here and there furtively at something which may strike me momentarily, so that I always keep wondering when is the next strike. I start abondoning myself and that is when I am lost completely. I am found nowhere. So I avoid all uncertainity, do not touch it, pack it up and force it into a falseful oblivion and try and bury it all in the land of amnesia or even Alzheimer’s??

But why??

Why not embrace hope and persistence? Why not challenge the uncertainty? Why not answer the questions that may give the right or wrong answers? If fear is such a big nemesis of mine, what is the point in keeping it so close to myself? Why not chuck it?Why not bid it a farewell? Why not let the mind think in the wake of every moment of fright? Why not bring meaning to my existence? Why not lose everything else but not myself?

My Strange Tear

All my love in my heart,
Brings me just a tear that makes my eyes wet,
All my longing and fond memories find no words,
For my voice fades away into a dead dark silence,
Strange enough though,
Coz when the same tear dampens my pen,
On the sad paper of my life, a sweet little poem is born,
And when the tear dries up, the poem is so long gone,
So here I wait, again, for another tear,
For another poem to be written,
And to be painfully forgotten.

A Game of Chess

Thirty two nicely done pieces,
On a confined arena of sixty four squares,
One may ask aren't there more,
Math has the answer, so I don't much care,
Where he was black and I was white,
I dared to challenge his overpowering might,
Passed an hour, and I was almost in tears,
Coz I wasn't left with too many pieces,
And I had to play, with a real stone face,
Hoping dearly for some saving grace!!

At g8 was his King,
While Pawns on g7 and h7 were shielding him,
His Rooks at b8 and d8, were on either side,
Of his Queen at c8, as though she were a bride!
Two more of his Pawns at c7 & d7,
And he knew his defence was craftily woven,
Aha! His lazy Bishop at c5,
Hasn't moved an inch, for a pretty long time now,
And at b6 was his another Pawn,
Furtively stealing a nap and I did see him yawn!!

At g4 was my helpless Bishop,
Beaten black and blue, though its sleeves seemed well rolled up,
My lonely warrior Knight at f7, was asking me, "Master, Can I do somethin",
Two lone Pawns of mine at f2 & g2,
Were hoping to know, where I was really heading to,
My clueless Queen on c4, didn't know much of what was in store,
Placed my last Pawn on h4 block,
Was bewildered, frightened and in utter shock,
While my King was found "lost hope" at g1,
Praying to God, for a loaded gun!!

So, I was here,
On a game that wasn't apparently nerve biting,
Favoring him it really did seem, while I thought, I was on the verge of losing,
Standing out of space, were my powers that were truly captured,
A thought flashed,
And I saw an opportunity, so well disguised,
Then I knew, I was to win this one,
Coz such is this mysterious game,
Its not just the powers,
Its what you can do with them that brings you the name and fame,
For only if you think ahead, you can win over' him,
Not only with pieces, but inspite of them!!

And then I moved my Knight to h6 and whispered "Mate",
His King had no option but to move to square h8,
Merrily to g8, my Queen did dance down,
Knowing too well, that it would be savored on,
"Why this sacrifice"? , probably thought he,
Wondering if something stunning, is gonna be,
His Rook struck and my Queen was displaced,
And now he did see, how badly his King was misplaced,
"Checkmate" was on, as to f7, galloped my Knight,
And his King had no place to move, let alone offer a fight!!

I am not quite sure of the person,
Who said these words of divine wisdom,
"Whether you think you can't,Or you think you can actually do,
You always end up proving yourself true",
Now that's the case with everything,
Of all that is linked to a human being,
And so it's the same,
With this wily board of CHESS,
The true game of sheer BRILLIANCE!!