Whenever wherever, we're meant to be together!!

Date: 16th December
Venue: PDA park, Ansal plaza
Events: Semester Examinations; History of Journalism paper
Annual College Fest, Ullas

I chose Ansal Plaza’s PDA Park (not DDA...!) for two reasons. First, it’s close to my college and it takes 15 minutes to reach there. Second, it’s an ultimate peaceful place. Oh lord! I so much wish there were no waspish ‘touchy’ people in this universe. So, essentially, in spite of being an ultimately chillar park, I and my friend Aditi mutually decided on Ansal Plaza’s PDA Park to revise our hysterical History of Journalism notes. We acted intelligent for a simple reason that it was our annual college fest, a big event and so, the library was closed and the college was full of life and noise. So, Ansals was the only option around.

As we entered, there were guys and girls all over. Some were hiding behind the bushes, some under the trees. The trees and bushes were not that dense, so may be they didn’t know that their deeds were very much visible. Kisses and wild smooches are not a history there until the ones so intently involved, listen to a deliberate coughing (I proudly interrupted a couple today...!) get conscious and push the pause button. So, anyways, I and my friend proceeded.

While we were searching for a sunny place (my priority) to rest our bags and ourselves, we came across some more gross realities of humanness. I won’t go into much detail. After much ado and fuss we discovered an amazing place to STUDY; our sole motive of going there, I realized. We were to write a paper in the next 3 hrs. We separated then. I chose to sit and mug, whereas she walked around and revised.

A bull shaped guy in red sweater entered the park with his alleged girlfriend. He had a McDonalds burger in his hands and he already looked like a scarier version of a stuffed teddy 'bear'. His girlfriend looked proportionally malnourished. Both of them made postures. The boy slept on the grass. He was interrupted by a female security guard. He slept on his girlfriend’s lap. He was warned again. She slapped him with affection. He smoked. The guardess reiterated her warning, this time almost like a threat. There were signs of affection in the air. Guardess again. They left.

Phew….

We were studying, with our eyes open, obviously. It was cold outside, but very pleasant.

Not to forget others who were trying to catch attention. There was a horrific strain of Himesh Reshammiya with his equally sickening counterpart. Then there was a girl with two chaps; one, a mini Tere Naam and the other, a slimmer and lighter Akon with a hood. There was also a pink sweater busy reading newspaper and another guy waiting for someone. He left after sometime. I was observing everyone keenly along with studying James Silk Buckingham.

Meanwhile, the intensity of PDA’s increased in the vicinity. I ignored and carried on with the history. History was driving me crazy. The place was altogether peaceful with subtle blatancies. Three hours passed. I completed my notes, so did my friend and we left happily ever after.

Moral of the story:

Ø Ansal Plaza can be a second classroom. It teaches you complicacies of loving besides History of Journalism.

Ø Never go to Ansal Plaza on a date. Its tacky site is so irritating and unconceivable for a million reasons. For God's sake, there are better places on this Earth!

Ø Colleges should well manage their fests so that they don’t clash with exams.

Ø History of Journalism is weird.

PS:

PDA= Public Display of Affection

DDA= Delhi Development Authority

:p

Peace…

Kuch is tarah..!!!

Well....

I don't really know how and when it all started, neither do I've a mighty memory which would enable me to recall an incident that happened some 14 years back, when I was just 4.

But one thing that I definitely know is that, this incident didn't change my life in particular, though it may have changed lives of thousands...

It was an intense day, for all the wrong reasons....

They said,"Babri Masjid ko gira diya hai..!!, sab hinduon ko maarkar khoon-kharaaba faila rahe hain..!!!".

Kanpur, my hometown (yeah!!) has always been a communal flash point and so, I have always seen one or the other things happening there..

The one I'm talking about happened immediately after the demolition of the Babri Masjid. It was just a regular riot, a bit more in magnitude than other ones may be. But I was too small to know and understand that..and may be that's the reason why I was in the school on that fateful day..!!!!..

The aftermath of the demolition was predictable and Kanpur was no exception. Kanpur was dismantled. Nobody had any clue as to what was happening. People were panicky. People...good people and bad people...people who wanted to save their lives...and people who hunted for lives...!!!!.. A wave of tension filled the whole city, proliferating like a cancer, decaying the minds, creating incisions..building walls, spilling blood, chopping bodies, hurling invectives, going mad..!!!...going dead..!!

I lived in Civil Lines, which was far from my school. But living in a civilized area was no remedy for a boiling riot..everyone was affected... though the extent differed..

I was protected..!!
The ones who weren't...well..God knows...

Instantaneously a curfew was declared and life revolved around that..no vegetables..no fruits..no milk.. no grains.. no nothing. Life stopped, almost threatening not to resolve its normal pace...!!!!

People were the victims. Poor tormented souls. They feared of anything and everything. Alarmed by the presence of a Muslim. Petrified on stepping into a muslim moholla.

A procreated hell it was..

The wreckage was unfathomable...!!!!!

It's said that people have a short memory and they tend to forget things fast..
I think it's right too. It's better to forget the agonies than to live with them, but had my memory collapsed, I wouldn't have remembered all this, some of which is heard and some conceived...

While I was writing this, truly, I had nothing in my mind. No insights. No clues. Just a fragment of nostalgia..
As I furthered, I got hold of the shore...

I'm beautiful..

It was for the first time in a week that my regular alarm wasn’t the reason. For normally I get up only when my cell phone shrieks horrendously into my ears in the morning, challenging my biological clock, which is always in a crisis. But not this time, in fact, I got up on my own, without any alarm.

As I got up and sat on my bed with my yellow squared bed sheet printed with navy blue flowers on my lap, my hair open and falling down my shoulders, artistically tangled, I realized, I'm beautiful. It was just a thought that filled me with sheer enchantment. A thought, an enticing thought, an alluring thought, an intelligent thought. It was just a random thought and I could almost sense the consequences. All of a sudden everything became beautiful and my world changed....temporarily though...I wish I could have taken that feeling longer...but then its like that..the semblance is never the same..The feel is tranquilising though...the feel..
I can't really remember the genesis, but I could remember the sensation of looking and feeling beautiful and how it lingered, across the meninges, through my veins, on the surface...and all through my mind.

Dawn, with darkness spread like dust particles, a blurry fringe of a light, dictating my existence, made me realise that I am beautiful. Was this unseen for years???....maybe...I always knew I was beautiful, but never realised that. But now, I did. Realisation is more important than knowing. In fact it's the only way to get into the meaning deeper and better. The earlier you realize, the better you become. Good, I realised..It gave me a vision that things happen, good or bad, your conscience alerts you, then you realize the consequences and life gets better.

All of a sudden....things changed..

My gold ring, in ruby, which was very normal sometime back, became beautiful. It shone brilliantly as it never had before. Moreover, my hand was no more a body part, it became a beautifully sculptured piece of art and a gift of God, and I felt blessed. I was sailing across the vast ocean of my feelings. I felt like I was one step closer to my true self..my real strength. I was undiscovered, until then...still on my way to discover something..This unconscious introspection was an envision...

In front of the mirror, amidst the sun breaking into the darkness, to shine brightly, I stood. I moved closer and closer until I could peep into my very own reflection. My soul. My heart. My existence. Glints of yellow light filled up my room, an evidence of what I was feeling..and I stood there, in front of the mirror, analyzing my own reflection and concluding...I'm beautiful.
Things changed after that....
" You can make new discoveries only if you lose sight of the shore." *

Losing the sight of the shore came as a bliss.
-----------------------------------------------
[PS- * anonymous]

HYPOCRISY:AN ARBIT CHOICE

I contradict myself. I am large. I contain multitudes -Walt Whitman.

What Mr. Walt Whitman said then, applies to all the mortals, of all the centuries, all the anno dominies and all the before christs. CONTRADICTION is the commonest trait of all the human beings living in this universe.Infact, it is a linkage between all the races this earth has ever witnessed and shall witness in the future.

As the humans are evolving, they are becoming more intelligent & more learned, and this pigeonhole of the evolving intelligentsia is like a prairie where contradiction grows profusely. This abundance of contradictory disposition has bred what we call “HYPOCRISY”.

Hypocrisy is the biggest GIFT that contradiction has given to this mankind. There may be other gifts as well, but this one is above all. The most evil, the most wretched and the most hideous one. Hypocrisy is the epitome of negation. It is super derogatory and cruelest of all the words that describe a mortal. People hate being called a hypocrite, when they actually know the truth, their own reality.

I am a contradictory person myself and my being so is not an arbit choice or something, but is innate. I am acquiring some of its notorious version as I’m growing up and everyone else is too. So why being ashamed of calling yourself a hypocrite when you yourself know that you are one too.It’s like veiling and blindfolding your inner self.I know I am sounding shameless and obviously hypocrisy is not something worth flaunting and crying out to the world that OH!! Look at me. I have some higher standards and I pretend to be like that. But my dears… the point is ..why fool yourselves??? Why not accept it’s existence in your mind and soul. Why deny this very fact?? I may sound like a traitor and an intruder to your space, but you know what it is like….You must have heard people saying-Oh!!! You know what, I hate hypocrites and this world is full of them. On that, all I can is that, either they are saints or good at telling themselves lies. For me it’s like FAKING your “self”.

Hypocrisy is perfectly the most odious character reflected by a human being. It grows with age, grows inside, gradually, initially it is attenuating, and as we become more aware and more worldly and more wise, it grows profusely within and subtly mixes in blood, like oxygen…carbon dioxide maybe and becomes stable and remains there forever..

We humans exhibit duality and multitudinous personality. Humans are multiple in nature, they are all in one and one in all. It’s like I may be feeling sad, happy, disgusted, jealous and concerned at the same time without even realizing that. This multiple nature nurses HYPOCRISY. It makes one a big time preacher. I remember the other day when I was preaching my younger sister not to listen to ROCK justifying its maddening effects in my own words,and when I myself can’t live without it. I despise my overindulgence though, but can’t help it.. that is another issue, but the point is that I feel like a hypocrite when I do this.It's not a treason though but maybe the authority overshadows my concern here. Not just this, I have something more to say. Whenever I have an argument, I always refute others and always think I am right. Everyone does this. I call this hypocrisy, of some sort. I perceive contradiction in my own ways and people may agree or disagree. but then, I am with my interpretations. The point is not existence of hypocrisy but pain is about its non-acceptance. People believe in escaping out and all they say is WE ARE NOT HYPOCRITES without even realizing that their words are the evidennce. Isn’t that convenient ???...Sheer escapism…just twist the meaning, perceive it your ways, reach to a conclusion which is always-I AM NOT A HYPOCRITE, isn’t it???But acceptance is the only escape and people shouldrealise it.They should stop faking and misleading themselves.They should just acknowledge the reality.

When god made humans , he adjusted hypocrisy as a default attribute. So all the people who are reading this , I know, their self is nodding in acceptance but the stubborn outside is ready to lambast me for my lunacy, of calling them a hypocrite..

For all those and others…
I can recall a line from a famous song. It goes like this..
"Guess there's a Slim Shady in all of us, f**k it, let's all stand up."

CORDITE

It’s annihilation.

It’s deception.
It’s painful.
It’s wasteful.
It’s numbing.
It’s abrupt.

Sheer infatuation.
Mature attraction.
Physical reinforcement.
A mutual endorsement.

People waste themselves,
their lives like shams.
Shit man!!! It sucks.
Building a pressure inside.
Too much to hold on with.
It hurts at times.
Spitting all the hatred outside.

Forged relations.
Mocking betrayal.
Fatal intrusion.
Shattering resent.
Bitter nothingness.

Amending broken trusts,
life goes on…..like a threatening device.

Who gives it a damn!!
Some cry.
Some crib.
Holding tight the noose.
Tears dry up,
just debris is left.
The pain is inside.
And I give it a shit!!

My tears are precious,
not a filthy profusion,
that I waste them all,
on a cussed f**k like this.

-------------------------------------------------------

[PS:This particular poem wasn't written out of a frustration 'coz of any BREAK-UP or something, so please don't get mistaken. It's not a part of my personal experience.]

Bus Stop IIT Gate

Some days are usual and some are unusually usual .That day was like any other normal day, but was a bit unusual in some sorts .It was bitterly cold, windy and strangely pleasant, for normally, non-sunny days are not so pleasant for me. But that particular day was a bit different, in an indifferent way.

The day started normally with the usual huffle-buffle that one has to face in the mornings. The usual getting ready and walking to the bus stop and boarding the bus and fighting for a seat and struggling to survive etc..etc.. But to my surprise, the bus was freakishly empty. Sign of an auspicious day, I thought. I boarded the bus and thanked God. The journey to the Hauz Khas bus depot was amazingly easy and it took me less than the average time it takes to reach there.

I was going to the Hauz Khas bus depot to get my bus pass renewed, which was nearing expiry. The bus dropped me at the depot. I walked in and what I saw was that, the usually crowded bus depot was so deserted that I couldn’t believe if it what was the same depot that I once visited .That was serendipitous. I couldn’t believe what was happening, but I had to believe it anyway. I walked in to the pass office and got my pass made in about 5 minutes, which was again astonishing as the whole affair normally takes longer. So, now my bus pass was there, resting in my bag and I was all puzzled and happy and thanking God, walking to the bus stop, to get back home.

I walked to the terribly overcrowded IIT Gate bus stop, to take my bus back home. The stop was crowded being the peak rush hours. I found a place for myself and stood there waiting. There were no signs of bus even after 5 minutes of waiting and the first thing on my mind was to get back home. It was deeply cold. People at the bus stop, including me, were getting restless. Some were sitting on the railings under the bus stop’s roof. Some were briskly moving here and there, glancing furtively at their watches. Some were vigorously chatting on their cells and some, just standing, giving vague looks. I was the one doing all these things periodically, consciously and unconsciously.

Just then, when all these futile exercises were taking place, I saw a young guy, tall, about 20, coming out of the IIT campus, walking towards the bus stop. He was an average looking guy but was unusually attractive. He sported a baggy baseball jersey ,with a not so baggy cargo. He wore a skullcap and was truly looking like Eminem Marshall. To sum up his looks, he was graceful, well-proportioned and had an athletic stature, and essentially, I couldn’t keep my eyes from roosting on him. I saw him walking towards the bus stop. I gave him a secretive glance and looked away.

 

The traffic was all crawling an the road, as usual, and people were madly blowing horns to clear it off. The air was reeking of obnoxious fuel exhaust and there were people popping their heads out of the car windows. Amidst all this there was a really nice guy standing next to me. I was amazed by the way everything was happening. Everything, so nice and eventful. Queer and unnatural. I smiled, at nothing and returned to the reality. 

We both were standing on the bus stop, he was standing by my side and we didn’t talk. I wanted him to talk. Well, I really wanted him to talk. I was wondering why on this galaxy I ever wanted to talk to him and this never happened before. There was something about him that was responsible for this sudden urge. But I wanted him to start. He stood there, quietly, for sometime, then moved a few steps towards me and rested himself. I stared him and he moved back. But I still wanted to talk. I never made an effort though. After next 15 min , he showed signs of wanting to talk. What a late action time, I thought. But at least he did and that made me feel..feel..feel..well, there's no word for that. But yes, it felt nice. He smiled, cleared his throat and was all set to speak.

I looked at him and just then the bus came and everything was ruined. I was livid. That was outrageous and infuriating!!.…..Oh my god!!!! WHAT A WRONG TIMING…….. I wanted to scream, but I didn’t. Instead, I smiled back at him and was happy that he smiled in repercussion…I boarded the bus and left.

HAIL OF CLOTS

Red,
like a blood soaked foetus.
Painful,
like a peppered abscess.
Charred,
like pieces of charcoal.
Deep,
like the Earth's core.
Tender,
like a lump of raw flesh.
Gory,
like a gesture of war.
Reeky,
like a bog.
Sharp,
like a razor blade.
Rotten,
like an infested tumor.
Audacious,
like a naked whore.
Extrusive,
like blood on snow.
Bleak,
like a vast stretch of mountain.
Sadistic,
like mortals.
Narcissistic,
like a man.
STOOD THE OBSTINATE WOUND

SEETHE

The dawn was breaking,so was her sleep.Everything stopped and refused to move.The deafening silence almost killed her and she prayed she could live.She was sweating and panting.She was aghast,fidgety and restless.She thought as if someone was smothering her.She wanted to breathe.She wanted to live.She thanked God, she was alive.Still alive,to die one day.What could have happened???...

She had a nightmare...,a dawn mare probably.Dawn mares,people said,come true...She didn't care.The dawn mares have already happened,sometime in past,thinking of which,she was seething.The memories were fresh,boiling as magma under the earth's crust.Fresh was the SEETHE,taking over her consciousness.She was writhing in pain.PAIN....mental,not physical.What could have happened????????

Nothing much..Just something that could have given anyone an unfortunate death..But she survived..Survived to die one day.....die of seethe.But then what could have happened??? It was in her head..She was disturbed.She was holding too tightly on her so as to asphyxiate herself.Suppresed.Lying in pain all alone.Searching the answers of her questions.Pondering.Fiddling.People were sadistic she thought.Life has betrayed her she thought.She was fragile she thought.Relationships are brittle she thought.She was perceptive,prejudiced..

She was in search of answers of her questions.She found the answers.And as she thought she had the answers,life changed all her questions.Life has betrayed her again.She was again left seething....with new questions.....and new answers...........and old pain..as ever!!!!!

Bilawal-At The Age Of Innocence

Bilawal Bhutto Zardari,19,a first year history student at the Christ Church College,Oxford University,is no more a normal teenager like most of his friends at Oxford.The very confident,charismatic and eloquent Bilawal,has now acquired a new political responsibility,a responsibility of being the Chairperson of Pakistan People's Party.This undertaking is a herculean task in itself,and very much for a 19 yr old.Mr. Bilawal Bhutto Zardari is in the line of famous political heirs after his newest acquisition,the PPP.

A very soft spoken,shy and an engaging speaker,as people close to him say,Bilawal is a Taekwondo champion and a great cricket fan as every Pakistani.Brought up in Dubai and London,Bilawal has never been exposed to the Pakistani Politics much,although he seems to be very worldly and aware by the way he speaks on issues.He has always admitted his inexperience.Making his first public presentation in London,he said,"I fear for my country.If elections are not free and fair it might disintegrate".On Bush supporting Musharraf,he said,"Dictatorships bred extremism and the U.S. should stop supporting DICTATORS".On Indo-Pak relations he said his country would like to "co-exist" with its neighbours.

In the last 2 months that Bilawal has been to Oxford,he has always maintained a low profile and called himself BILAWAL LAWALIB to avoid attention that his real surname could catch.However,after his newest acquisition he is no more Lawawlib now.He is Bilawal BHUTTO Zardari,just a 19 yr old,who has entered the GORY,MURDEROUS and INGLORIOUS politics of Pakistan.

Poor Bilawal,he would never be able to understand,why was he the chosen one?? Why was he ever chosen to bear the brunt of the brutal dynastic Pakistani politics??? Why was he persuaded to head PPP at this innocent age,when he is even younger than his mother was,when she was forced too....

The carefree and easy days at Oxford are gone.When Bilawal's Contemporaries have their first yr exams to worry about,Bilawal has been induced into the politics.What all that his friends could think of is partying,Bilawal is all set to play the DeAtH GaMe!!!!!

The ride has just begun and the journey is dangerous.The Destination is democracy,which is out of the question..

GOD SAVE BILAWAL!!!!!!!!