The darkness will clutch you tightly,
Not let you shrink or inch away,
Only permit a hypnotic sway,
Do you want to test the waters,
Or move into the fold ever so slightly,
Gauge your fears and cross the threshold,
Wait for the season to stall,
And the sun to turn into a pale blue ball.
Do it now, tomorrow may show you a false light and push your misery gently into the dank recesses of your thought.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Melancholy
It just sweeps across. Most days it is hidden, on other days it refuses to stay put. How does a dark heart feel, stuck behind a farce of a face? Ill-fated, lamenting the lack of fears, reason for tears. For how much longer will the cage hold on? Time will flow away like a dark ebb, far away from any chance of change. The Dark fear will strike one day and leave an ashen face in it's wake.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Catcher Of The Fly
Something that I had written in my first year college. Had to turn in an article for the college mag within 45 minutes and this was the best I could come up with. Of course it is a lampoon of "Catcher in the Rye". Now when I read it I find that some parts could've been tweaked or rephrased but then I was never a reader's writer. The piece also got me into trouble with a college HOD. That I think was the best part.
Here goes nothing.........
I'm not going to give you my history or anything of the sort. All I'm going to tell you is how I spent a whole day in this college. After being kicked out of Frenchie (for the uninitiated, Frenchie is the nickname of Room No. 407 - not the underwear. If you kick me out of my bare essentials I swear I'll have you castrated).
The reason for the expulsion was that I was testing my burglar alarm in the middle of my lecture. Actually, I was just trying to make the guy who was sitting next to me stop snoring. I had inserted the rods of my alarm in his nostril and the bell went off. It wasn't my fault - you too would have got pissed off sitting next to that slob. Every time he snored, a drop of snot fell from his nose.
I had no place to go, and so I went into the Reading Room and thought that I might read the day’s paper. However, all the seats were taken. All except for one beside a guy who reminded me of this classmate of mine. This chap had a tattoo on his arm which he said was that of a bull's. I’ve always felt that it was a cow's tattoo. I mean, you could only see its face and you can't possibly make out whether the animal is a cow or a bull by only looking at its head can you? Anyway, this guy sitting in the Reading Room reminded me of the cowherd (it’s a cow, I tell you). The chap was reading a management book and had a business newspaper in his bag. I presumed that this guy must be a management bloke. They have management written all over their faces. On the table next to ours a guy was sitting and flexing his forearms. I have a friend who is constantly doing that. He keeps challenging everybody to an arm-wrestling contest and keeps losing. This chap and the tattoo bloke both are decent chaps in all respects except for their personalities. They are big phonies actually.
I walked out of the Reading Room and went over to the canteen. It’s called Prakash's Canteen. Prakash is actually a waiter but he plays the piano that's kept in the corner. Today he was playing Beethoven's Unfinished Symphony…and kept finishing it. That really pissed me off. Beethoven must have left his work unfinished for some reason.
I like going to the canteen because that's the only place where they give you a drink without asking your age. I'm underage you know. I had 7-8 bottles of Bisleri out there and then ran off to the loo to relieve myself. In the loo I found a guy pissing with a straight face. I can never piss with a straight face, not even if you switched on the Oprah Winfrey show. Actually, I always sing while pissing. My favourite at these times is 'Staying Alive' by the BeeGees. There are two reasons for this, the first being that ‘Staying Alive’ is essentially a loo song, and that secondly, pissing is necessary to stay alive. I'm quite happy with myself because I can piss and sing at the same time. I havent tried dancing as yet.
So, as I was saying, the guy was pissing with a straight face. It was as if he was concentrating on something. I guessed that a spider or a roach must've fallen in the urinal
Out of the loo and I was back again in the corridors. They were pretty crowded now. I bumped into the lecturer who had removed me from my class. She called me aside and asked me why I kept doing such things. She said, "Solder (my name, dope!), your dad's gonna kill you when he comes to know that you've been thrown out of class again. Your dad's gonna kill you.” She kept repeating this for around five minutes or so. I had to give a thump on her back to put her back on track.
We once had a lecturer who kept repeating 'over here' every time.If you ever spoke to him the conversation would go like this.
YOU: Sir, how shall I solve this problem?
HIM: Over here, you put blah, blah…Over here and then you take this blah… Over here and finally you get the answer over here. Have you got me over here?
YOU: Over and out sir.
HIM: Over here it's over here and out my boy. Over here, over here…(fades away).
So this lecturer kept repeating, "Your dad's gonna kill you." Until I put her back on track. She was a very good teacher, though. I couldn’t say so myself, but I’m sure of it.
Somehow I couldn't control myself and started sobbing. She put her arm around my shoulder to console me. She was a very good teacher. She asked me, "What do you want to become? What's your ambition, Solder?" I thought for a while but didn't answer. "Do you want to be a doctor, an engineer or a lawyer, Solder?" she asked. "You know," I said "have you seen the garbage heaps all over the city? And have you seen the flies flying around them? These flies spread all these diseases. I'd like to be a catcher of the fly. Yeah! That’s what I want to be!” She stood up, angrily saying that I needed to get myself psychoanalysed. She said that I had lost my marbles. Anyway that was it. I left for another lecture.
Here goes nothing.........
I'm not going to give you my history or anything of the sort. All I'm going to tell you is how I spent a whole day in this college. After being kicked out of Frenchie (for the uninitiated, Frenchie is the nickname of Room No. 407 - not the underwear. If you kick me out of my bare essentials I swear I'll have you castrated).
The reason for the expulsion was that I was testing my burglar alarm in the middle of my lecture. Actually, I was just trying to make the guy who was sitting next to me stop snoring. I had inserted the rods of my alarm in his nostril and the bell went off. It wasn't my fault - you too would have got pissed off sitting next to that slob. Every time he snored, a drop of snot fell from his nose.
I had no place to go, and so I went into the Reading Room and thought that I might read the day’s paper. However, all the seats were taken. All except for one beside a guy who reminded me of this classmate of mine. This chap had a tattoo on his arm which he said was that of a bull's. I’ve always felt that it was a cow's tattoo. I mean, you could only see its face and you can't possibly make out whether the animal is a cow or a bull by only looking at its head can you? Anyway, this guy sitting in the Reading Room reminded me of the cowherd (it’s a cow, I tell you). The chap was reading a management book and had a business newspaper in his bag. I presumed that this guy must be a management bloke. They have management written all over their faces. On the table next to ours a guy was sitting and flexing his forearms. I have a friend who is constantly doing that. He keeps challenging everybody to an arm-wrestling contest and keeps losing. This chap and the tattoo bloke both are decent chaps in all respects except for their personalities. They are big phonies actually.
I walked out of the Reading Room and went over to the canteen. It’s called Prakash's Canteen. Prakash is actually a waiter but he plays the piano that's kept in the corner. Today he was playing Beethoven's Unfinished Symphony…and kept finishing it. That really pissed me off. Beethoven must have left his work unfinished for some reason.
I like going to the canteen because that's the only place where they give you a drink without asking your age. I'm underage you know. I had 7-8 bottles of Bisleri out there and then ran off to the loo to relieve myself. In the loo I found a guy pissing with a straight face. I can never piss with a straight face, not even if you switched on the Oprah Winfrey show. Actually, I always sing while pissing. My favourite at these times is 'Staying Alive' by the BeeGees. There are two reasons for this, the first being that ‘Staying Alive’ is essentially a loo song, and that secondly, pissing is necessary to stay alive. I'm quite happy with myself because I can piss and sing at the same time. I havent tried dancing as yet.
So, as I was saying, the guy was pissing with a straight face. It was as if he was concentrating on something. I guessed that a spider or a roach must've fallen in the urinal
Out of the loo and I was back again in the corridors. They were pretty crowded now. I bumped into the lecturer who had removed me from my class. She called me aside and asked me why I kept doing such things. She said, "Solder (my name, dope!), your dad's gonna kill you when he comes to know that you've been thrown out of class again. Your dad's gonna kill you.” She kept repeating this for around five minutes or so. I had to give a thump on her back to put her back on track.
We once had a lecturer who kept repeating 'over here' every time.If you ever spoke to him the conversation would go like this.
YOU: Sir, how shall I solve this problem?
HIM: Over here, you put blah, blah…Over here and then you take this blah… Over here and finally you get the answer over here. Have you got me over here?
YOU: Over and out sir.
HIM: Over here it's over here and out my boy. Over here, over here…(fades away).
So this lecturer kept repeating, "Your dad's gonna kill you." Until I put her back on track. She was a very good teacher, though. I couldn’t say so myself, but I’m sure of it.
Somehow I couldn't control myself and started sobbing. She put her arm around my shoulder to console me. She was a very good teacher. She asked me, "What do you want to become? What's your ambition, Solder?" I thought for a while but didn't answer. "Do you want to be a doctor, an engineer or a lawyer, Solder?" she asked. "You know," I said "have you seen the garbage heaps all over the city? And have you seen the flies flying around them? These flies spread all these diseases. I'd like to be a catcher of the fly. Yeah! That’s what I want to be!” She stood up, angrily saying that I needed to get myself psychoanalysed. She said that I had lost my marbles. Anyway that was it. I left for another lecture.
Monday, June 27, 2005
The Other Side of Destiny
The eyes give you away. Betray you to your last axon. Never once did you think that those honey brown, seemingly ubiquitous pearls would give you away. All the while you kept up with your charade I knew this was coming. But never was I in the dark and so I’m not surprised, liberated yes. At times I waited for the day when you thought it would be the best to come out in the open, waited till it hurt every time I saw you look at me with concern and a trace of affection. I wanted to lunge forth at you. Make sure you never got a chance to catch me off-guard. There were times when I let my guard down, deliberately, so that you could make your move. Patience was something I never had, but for you I went through the painful process, just to see this look in your eye when you know your soul’s been laid bare. If only your eyes had the steel that you drove through me.
Monday, June 20, 2005
Need Some Help Here
I need a broadband connection. Which service provider is the best? I’m looking for a scheme that does not have a maximum download clause.
Friday, June 17, 2005
Missing and Blissful
A few days ago my block went missing, haven’t seen him since. This guy has been with me for over 2 years. Other than a few sabbaticals that he afforded me in the middle, the chap has been solely responsible for the really mediocre quality of literature I churned out incessantly. The humour was always insipid, the philosophy confused and the rest irrelevant. Without him my grammar may not improve, the jokes would be as stale as ever and my metaphors and similes absent. This however wouldn’t weigh on my mind as it was always the block as an entity that mattered. My lack of talent was always blatant, but the block made it difficult to cover up. Now in his absence I can lace my sentences in words that I never knew existed or understood.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
All You Need Is Love
Robin Hood, Men In Tights had King John go around asking “What to do, what to do?” in a very L.A accent. An interesting bit of a movie. Mel Brooks spoofs of all the zaniest images and characters around.
Anyway the point here is that now I feel like going around asking “What to do, what to do?” I have been reading a lot of blogs of late. Most by young working women and some really “culturally concerned” individual sitting in Chandigarh insists that guys like me do it just so as to hook onto these girls and eventually bed them. Wow, what a neat concept to get some action. Read the blogs, leave a few comments, get onto the mailing business, then onto their chat ids and finally into their underwear. A few problems like distances between cities and a better than expected moral framework is of no consequence.
All we want is some floating action,
A little bit of flight and some sauntered motion,
Languid insanities with the ones who are Languid in sanitaries.
This ‘definitelymale’ from Punjab has sure got all the perverts like me by our trackballs. Girls beware especially when you see a comment on your blog from me. I’m the one lurking and waiting for you to be alone and looking for a shoulder to lean on.
Muuaaaaaaaah
Would Samit agree that I’m an eviler version of Danjem
Anyway the point here is that now I feel like going around asking “What to do, what to do?” I have been reading a lot of blogs of late. Most by young working women and some really “culturally concerned” individual sitting in Chandigarh insists that guys like me do it just so as to hook onto these girls and eventually bed them. Wow, what a neat concept to get some action. Read the blogs, leave a few comments, get onto the mailing business, then onto their chat ids and finally into their underwear. A few problems like distances between cities and a better than expected moral framework is of no consequence.
All we want is some floating action,
A little bit of flight and some sauntered motion,
Languid insanities with the ones who are Languid in sanitaries.
This ‘definitelymale’ from Punjab has sure got all the perverts like me by our trackballs. Girls beware especially when you see a comment on your blog from me. I’m the one lurking and waiting for you to be alone and looking for a shoulder to lean on.
Muuaaaaaaaah
Would Samit agree that I’m an eviler version of Danjem
Friday, June 03, 2005
Give me a sip of your oxytocin
How did you get in? Elvis must've forgotten to bolt the gate as he left the building. As you walk down the corridor you can seen Jim Morisson wave his broken arm at you. Do you know where you are? Anyway keep walking down the corridor. It may get a little cold and musty after the bend but you'll be getting where you want to. Life here is all about living it up at this exact moment. Everything you do here, you'd do in Technicolour.
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