Just another NGO conference…

Just when you think you can spend your Saturday sitting at home sipping on some gin and tonic, you are asked to attend this NGO conference which frankly wont change nothing.

The only bright side is the food, which might be a decent bite, and the wine that might flow later in the evening.

But at what cost? Having to spend three hours driving to the venue, the heat the humidity.

Anyways so here I am sitting at the back of a rather plush conference hall soaking in the much-needed air conditioning and listening to people talk the same shyte.

I always wonder why NGO’s hold so many meetings? All plush, great food, sometimes even at rather exotic locations. Maybe it’s a scam, a cover up.

While musing on the said issue, there is this incident that comes to my mind, right after the Tsunami rocked the Andaman’s, NGO’s had no idea where to spend the money. March (the end of the budget year) was looming large and the money HAD to be spent. So instead of buying food and shelter for the survivors, the NGO’s ended up buying most of the survivors boats!!!! Beat that, you don’t have food, you don’t have shelter but what you do have are boats, hells yea!!! Great way to save the world.

Whats next?

I finally did it, after threatening to do it for the longest time, this afternoon I stood up and ran screaming out of office for no apparent reason. It was quite a sight and it felt blissfully liberating.

Just me, my legs and the door in sight, I darted for freedom.

Though only to return a few minutes later much to the bewildered expressions of my equally deranged colleagues.

Morning Raga…

Can’t recall the last time I was up this early for no apparent reason. There was, for a change no impending draft that needed to be finalised or some last minute research that needed looking into, instead it was just the dawn and me.

A rising sun, streaks of orange bright and brilliant.

All seemed perfect, till I went back to bed and got late for work…. DAMN !!!

Random Midnight Musing.

If evolution is as constant as change then I do believe I am evolving this very moment. My thoughts, my perceptions, me, are all evolving. Not every evolution is for the best though. Ape to Man being an example.
Life was so much better as an ape I am sure.

Words …

Words are just an expression of what we want others to perceive of us. A thoughtful permutation of letters and thoughts thrown into cauldron, spiced up with some reality.

More reflections…

I agree life is a book with many chapters, some written and some waiting to be written.

Turn the page they say, a new page everyday adds to those chapters they call life.

Every memory, every moment, gone by, a word on a page in the chapter out of the book titled life.

Reflections from the past seems to be the call of the week. I cant help but stop thinking of those million pages I authored.

A Transit visa i dont want.

Its sometimes hard to stop my mind wandering to distant places and thoughts long past.

Its hard not to notice how things have changed, how nothing is the way it used to be. Friends I have known since the day I donned diapers are busy changing diapers of their own offspring’s.

Others are busy filing for divorces while some are planning their weddings.

Most of have lost hair or are still in the process of losing what’s left.

It just aint the same, the concept of late night outs has taken a back seat, no longer do we wait for that midnight snack at a distant railway station. Or a weekend trip to wee hill station.

Booze and dope just aint the way of life anymore, gone are the earrings, the rebel within seems to have been tamed for good.
It’s a part of life or so I am made to believe. But is this what I want.

This is all strange to me, long ago I had promised my self I would never give in to the stereotype way of life, but who was I kidding? I am already in it.

The Buddha lounge seems like a distant past. Mates sitting around a lava lamp getting stoned immaculate is just a memory now

There are no more football trials, hours spent on a field trying to play ball are just reduced to nostalgic moments.

Such is life, you grow up, you get a job, you grow fat, lose hair, own a house, spend all your time trying to fix that house and make a buck ( pappi pet ka sawal hai).

It’s a transition but I aint sure I am ready for it.

I miss the freedom, the rebel without a cause. I do miss the life it once used to be.

Midnight musing

So the day ended or so it seems…its past midnight am home and I still cant snap out of the quasi reflective somewhat rebellious state of mind I found my self in all day.

Have a matter first thing tomorrow morning and I haven’t even read the file, its just not the kind of case I enjoy. Family law, matrimonial disputes, from a pure legal perspective its just down right boring, there is no legal research involved no ‘construing’… its just plain simple merits you fight your case on.

I still need to send a report to the boss, something she was complaining about over lunch, had it been another day I would have sent it to her by tea, but today was different, I instead sat and pretty much gave up on work. I dug deep and found my blog as my solace.

I wonder whats stopping me from letting go of this, is it the comfort zone? Am I too scared of stepping out and finding firmer ground. I wish I had the answers, but right now my bed and my book beckons me..

All I seek…

It wasn’t many moons ago when I used this medium ( read blog) to stay afloat, to fight the sharks that swarmed the very waters I called home. It was a long journey but one that helped me immensely.

Things have changed ever so slightly, all while this summer sets into autumn I am back where it all began searching for the answers ill keep searching as long as I walk this earth, as long as I breathe the putrid air.

Who am I ? and what do I want?

People have come and people have gone, some on their own accord and some by my own misgivings. They have all left their mark some deep enough to be construed as scars which shall stand out for all times to come.

For me, this life over the last two years has been pretty much about me, myself and nothing else. Lost in a sea of shyte I pushed away those who meant a lot , those including my self who mattered.

Its unforgiving how I wade through these tides of time. Slow like a time bomb, an impeding volcano I wait on those moments that shall set me free.

I would rather have my words flow again, be in a space where all is clear, where the mist dissipates and the bluest of blue skies sucks me into its calm abyss.

As I read those posts, those words I couldn’t help but wish things were different, I would give a fortune to run away from this mayhem and stand at the edge of a cliff overlooking the clouds a setting sun and a sea splashed with the colors of the sky.

Liberation is all I seek, freedom is all I wish for, to be in a place where I could be me, where I could be the man I used to be. Where freedom was the way to be.

Paradise encore…

It hasn’t been a day I can write home about, I was dreading this day for the longest time. I was hoping the sun wont rise today but it did and how?
The boss had been away, what bliss, away to attend a funeral and a wedding, life was near peaceful, clear days where the sun shone and the zephyr washed away the sorrows, but just like every day has its night and every beginning has an end, so did this phase.
I lay in bed, eyes wide shut, thoughts of falling ill and death were constant companions but between the twenty minutes I got for my self before I head out to battle, neither did I die or fall ill, what luck!!!!
A few smokes, a cup of black coffee and I was at work, sweating and stressing dreading the inevitable, the slave awaited the masters return.
She walked in while I was sipping on my second cup of coffee. There were no pleasantries exchanged just a list of work which needed to be completed in the next twenty minutes.
All stress and no relief is a constant companion when the boss is around, the associates (read as slaves) dread the return, the presence, it’s a complicated situation, its like treading the valley of death, where the only thing inevitable is the proverbial death itself.
When shall this sun set, when will I be free again. Thoughts of me walking into her chamber with a wee gun and shooting my self, make me happy make me smile.
Will I ever rise against this tyranny?

In the meanwhile…

What’s new in this life they call mine is a relative concept with no solid ground to tread upon, even why I haven’t written for the longest time has no answer… maybe it’s a collusion of factors I have no control over.

The past months were spent setting up my new apartment, my very own pad strewn with van gogh prints and the much-needed air conditioning.

More so the work has been hectic and at times rather frustrating, have spent many an hour planning the impending and hopefully inevitable exit from here, though I don’t see light at the end of this tunnel.

I have reached a stage where I cannot handle the boss and her unreasonable tantrums much longer. I have during the whole process of trying to stay afloat forgotten where I am swimming or who I am, I wake up dreading the days she would be waiting on us at work sharpening her proverbial knives. It’s a rather shyte situation to find myself entwined in.

Gone are the days when I could write at will, with more time on my hands and a comparatively peaceful existence the whole idea and process was a simple collusion of factors enabling me to reduce every moment gone by to words on a piece of paper. However how things change, every word now is an effort its an uphill battle where the summit seems farther away than I can hope or imagine.

Just Me..??!!??

A white shirt tearing at its seems, brown paw marks on the front, a dirty blue jeans and a pair of slippers held together with a safety pin. A stubble from hell and greying wiry hair, its all relative, the way I look has nothing to do with the way I feel, stress and incessant boredom have numbed my existence, I no longer care about my personal appearance, its all subjective to the objective needs of my dishevelled soul.
Its like letting go, a soul trapped set free, to breathe and fly, I sleep only to rise, I eat only to sustain, I smoke to breathe again, its all in the head, its all around, its just me…

Life unplugged…

Sleep is a luxury I cant afford,like a million other pleasures, instead I sit and stare at this screen wondering what I can do to snap out of this abyss, I am just rediscovering music yet again, having deprived my self of this simple pleasure, I hope to embrace it just to find the peace that’s evaded me for the longest time….

This world, this place, this hole is a place I rather not be, not like I have a choice….
This persistent cough refuses to abate, the dog sleeps peacefully, every now catching a glimpse of me, making sure I am around,

Half past one in the morning, I sit my desk at work, unshaven and unruly I seek to find peace, the stale dinner seems to have worked wonders on the overtly sensitive stomach I proudly call mine. This life needs a new meaning, a new beginning, this life needs an overhaul ..a dawn.. a getaway.. and a lot more

Paradise yet again..

2nd April 2008
And the day dawns on me yet again, I wonder why …???...I wish I could spend the whole day in bed, listening to music and musing about life, instead I find my self at my work station sans my glasses, which my dog destroyed while I peacefully slept dreaming about the mountains and juicy steaks… such is life.

Blinded and bugged sipping on coffee that tastes like shyte, I ask my self a millionth time, is this what I had envisaged my life to be, Noel Gallagher croons in my headphones, the nausea coupled with a smokers cough makes my existence far more painful and unbearable.
Maybe I need a vacation, a job change, a new career, I wouldn’t know what it would take for me to snap out of this hole I find my self in, I had thought getting a dog would help my cause but alas I was wrong as usual…

Summer at our doorstep.

The cold abates, the zephyr mellows, soft like linen it caresses your skin, the fog melts away, summer is at our doorstep, sweaty uncomfortable days and torturous nights plagued with mutant mosquitoes stands up and demands attention.

I hate the mere thought of what lies in store, I cant help but hope time stands still, come March and the great Delhi meltdown shall become, like a pot over an unabated fire, Delhi shall boil over.

Mere mortals like me shall suffer, without air conditioning, and always dressed in a black jacket I like millions shall be a victim of the ruthless summer sun.

Lost..

If I who I am is what I have, and what I have is lost? Then who am I? A conundrum nevertheless, a question without an answer, a thought without a process, a minute without a meaning.

The never ending quest of discovering and re discovering leaves you grappling in the dark searching for the soul that seems to have flown away.
Some times it makes me sad though, just to realize that its gone, I have to remind my self that some birds just need to fly.. Their feathers are just too bright.. and when they fly away... the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice.. but still the place you live in is that much more drab and empty when they are gone..

The fountain of life, all confined in a minute…

Most of us spend every minute gone by without as much as giving it a second thought, like a mirage we let it dilute into the oblivion, failing to realize the significance of the minute in question gone by.

For most its just a moment, a moment of utter insignificance never to surface again. However what we do miss in the whole process is the structural value it adds to our lives, every passing minute is like a building block, a moment, that moment which makes us what we are,

Every second, every minute is a stepping stone to what we eventually end up being, a constant changing dynamic structure we call our lives is a result of the minutes we have seen pass us by.

Just another day in paradise...

14th February

My feet were freezing, I lay cuddled on the driver's seat of my car, the day had dawned on me, and I had spent the night sleeping in my car, there was no particular reason for this blatant act of madness, it was sheer exhaustion coupled with nights of no sleep, which lead me to this drastic act of self torture.
The last few days have been as hectic as they come, a short trip to the west coast, hundreds of client meetings, a quasi verbal brawl with the Chief Justice, in all a superlative exciting package, and somewhere along the line it burned me down.

So there I was this morning, fresh from a night in my car, tired as hell, drained, life felt like it had it been run over by a freight train.
Am back at work, drained but alive, trying to get some useless research done, replying to the hundreds of legal opinions the boss needs.
From my vantage point I can see the boss sitting in a meeting with a couple of associates and I am so glad it aint me this time, every meeting with her is like walking barefoot on hot coal. And if it aint the coal it’s the dog, yes the wee dog, who loves snapping at you when the boss is around. Its funny how you have to work around the dog when you are briefing the boss. The dog sits at this vantage point on her desk right around all the files you need, and she just loves biting your fingers off every time you try and touch any of those files, so in all… it can be construed as fun.

This day shall roll on too, though all I can think of is my bed back home which patiently awaits my sorry arse… Evening come fast….

This is my Jehad….

This is my Jehad, this is my (un) holy war, this is my life, where I wake up to reality and wonder, why the world spins the way it does, riddled by hate, blood and deceit the world around me is tearing at its seams.

The nest I hide in, is my safe haven, but the minute I step out I can sense the rage, the anger, I can smell the pain, the poor suffering, children starving, begging, being forced into labor, everywhere I go, everywhere I look, I find emptiness, I find the essence of humanity being trampled by the reality of our existence.

It is sad that my Jehad is a selfish battle where I cant give anyone but my self happiness, I am alone yet surrounded by those who rubbish my claims and those who stand by me.

I cant stand and watch these blatant acts of self destruction, Kidney kingpins, overtly sensitive lawyers who cant watch to people share something as beautiful as a kiss, a leader who aims to tear the secular seam of this country, who threatens to treat humans from a different part of the same country as dust and dirt, I cant face to stand my fellow countrymen re- electing leaders who washed their hands in the blood of thousands of innocent Muslims.
This is my life, this is our reality, we are all surrounded by this filth, this is my Jehad.

The World Spins Madly On.

Every now and then I wake up and realize the world I knew, had moved on, it had changed, not sure about the good bit.. but it had changed aright, friends were either dead or married, not sure which one’s worse though.

I, on the other hand, still sit at my study, trying hard to appease the savior within.

It aint helping, frankly everything is moving too fast for my own good, am I losing touch with reality? I wouldn’t know, an answer I might not have.

Tuesday this week…


Another week gone by, one less week to live (the eternal pessimist within jumps with joy).. the cold is near bone chilling and I am loving every bit of it, dressed like a tramp I pass my days in sheer delight, summer is only a month away and the thought of it makes me wanna die.

Delhi summers for most who have never experienced it, is straight out of a microwave, dry, bone burning heat, coupled with frequent power cuts and genetically mutated mosquitoes from hell, and makes life less worth living.
If only I was the weather God, I would delete summer from my weather system altogether.
I am back at work on a useless Tuesday afternoon, and lunch is a few minutes away, Van Gogh and Michael Angelo (my two Siamese fighter fish, look as bored as I do). The apple snails munch on some carrot and a lettuce leaf, life in this workstation has never been this dull.

The only thing smiling here is the picture of Mahmoud (10, a rag picker in West Bank), I often stare at him, surrounded by trash, dressed in rags and throwing a priceless toothy smile back. I don’t know him and probably never will, but in a strange way he gives me hope…

21st January ...

Another moment of madness...

Construe this as a moment of madness, a moment where time stood still, faceless and empty like the thoughts in my head, a moment I thought would be my last, flashbulbs and cameras, social activists, Supreme Court lawyers and hundreds of journalists packed in room with a woman, a victim of rape and genocide in the midst of it all…

Dressed in a brown quasi overcoat acting like a shadow and consultant to my boss, I stood there taking it all in, slow.. the pain the woman had gone through, the struggle for justice and the eventual victory in our struggle towards achieving the impossible.

It was then that it struck me, more like an image in my head, a booming sound, earth shattering and painful engulfing the room, it could have been our end had it not been in my head, but I pictured it, laying numb in one corner breathing my last, numb and disillusioned from the blast that could have ripped the room, I am not intuitive (thankfully) .. but I felt it.

For all those we stand up against, men in power who hate us for hating them for the murders and rapes they shamelessly committed and supported, this could have been an opportunity to get rid of all of us in one effortless go.

With no metal detectors, not a single security personal this could have and would have been the easiest way to target the civil society activists who have raised their voices time and again against the tyrannical and barbaric genocidal rule of the few we oppose.
Thankfully it was all in my head, I survived this and so did the hundreds with me, but for how long is a question I rather not have an answer for.

Egg Curry and Justice- A scary dichotomy

Guess there is only one way around this, I need to dig deep and start aiming at posting things on a daily basis. (aiming for the stars am I?), but anyways there is no harm giving it a shot.

15th Jan 08,

Another day gone by, spent at the Supreme Court, wondering if this is what I wanted from life, a constant duel, the never ending bickering.... the bohemian pot smoking me feels all deprived and ignored.

Black coats, a whole hoard of judges with inflated egos and accents from hell, (half my time is spent deciphering their distorted speech).
I cant seem to get the thought of quitting this and moving to the mountains to smoke some pot and farm some apples out of my head.
But anyways I passed out at Court yet again, sweet dreamy sleep engulfed me, where I even dreamt of hitting Brett Lee for a six ....was a welcome change from watching and hearing a senior counsel argue why coal mining in West Bengal needs to be stopped, or where a bunch of Indian Sadhus stormed into the court room waiting for the much awaited judgment on whether Ram the Indian God actually existed. ( I am not sure if the US supreme court has ever been moved on the issue of the existence of Jesus Christ). Anyways keeping with the trend of the Indian Legal System both the matters were adjourned…( ever wondered why it takes litigants in India years to see light at the end of the tunnel)


Back at work, the boss was screaming at the court clerk and a client, the weather seemed cloudy but far from stormy ( the weather reports entail the mood of the boss… )
Hours went by… researching… drafting.. more researching… some more drafting and re drafting when I finally decided to take a break…

Was sitting with T taking a break over a cup o' terrible milky tea and discussing my day at the court with the new interns, who were letting one and all know how I passed out while waiting for my matter to come up on board and the conversation settled on the intricacies of how afternoons are spent in court rooms, where judges and lawyers 'like, fight and dig deep to stay awake but fail miserably, the soft snore , the droopy eyes and dropping heads are a common sight.
It was then that it struck us ( T, I give you full credit here), how the lives and the justice of this country rests in the hands of a bunch of sleepy men, who have stuffed their faces with the only edible ‘thing’ available at the Supreme Court cafeteria – the egg curry.

Out of the shell…? Almost

A three month hiatus, and I still cant write…its all in the head and its all screwed up, suppression seems to be a thing of the past, the me within is beginning to rebel, signs of rebellion loom large over the horizon, endless hours of staring at my fish are finally paying dividends. There is anger, a dormant volcano is about to explode, unleash hell, wrath and more. This should be fun.
Gone are the days when words would flow like an ocean breeze, where everything around it had a word attached to it.. gone are the times when living everyday was a reason to write, to share…. Ominous signs? Maybe.. I cant be sure… But it might all change..

Midnight Musing...

Life is finally all about the moments, but there's always the larger plot to consider... a lot more goes into making those moments. In life, the moments are the plot.

Moments to Cherish...

Away from the reality they call my life I find peace in the abyss, those corners I run away from, the darkness I am too scared to call mine. I stand alone like a whole hoard of people, but I find peace in the little things I can call mine.


The fish donning my desk, cannibalistic but beautiful the wee black stripes that swim in the watery prison, the music that plays in my ears, Nick Drake, a talent gone waste, someone who died young but left his mark, that voice deep and touching.

I can only think about that evening at Shane’s place when I had given up all hope of getting through with the mother of all essays a year and a bit more back…. that’s when Shane and Nick drake gave me shelter and hope… a hope that made me see the sun rise that Easter morning….the clouds that threaten to wash away the heat every evening, the long drive back home, surreal, my existence a caldron of emotions and sunsets… of orange skies…
Moments gone by, leaving behind a mark… a drunk Phillipe calling me in the middle of the night howling over his lost belt while he hung perilously from Kelvin’s statue…. the night Wolfgang Ruckert stopped the subway coz all of us had to get back home to get more wasted… the time when Angela helped me fly back home to discover the truth… or the time when Christine sat and gave me hope… or the time when Kate encouraged me to go and fetch my dreams….. these are memories all mine.. all precious… I cherish these moments and more when Atif my slave chopped all those onions and looked the other way when I stole his smokes…or when zareen shared dinner with me from a million miles away when I sat alone in that lill prison I built for my self... walls to high to scale…
I sit here.. an empty bottle of whiskey shares these moments with me… Nick Drake still sings …. Just the way he will for all times to come… I am not alone, I have a million thoughts to share this moment with me , but none better than those who have spent my precious moments with me…

Everything random…

The black gold sits at my desk. Liquid and bitter in its conception, the whole purpose to appease my disheveled soul. Comprehension of the task at hand rather skewed, chaos as usual ensues around, books and files don my surroundings. The pending work file seems an endless task

My mind is on a trip a trip down memory lane, drowning in emotions strong and precious, moments of joy and a billion good byes, faces I will never see again, , mails I shall never receive again, places I will never visit again, they all flood my thoughts, friends lost and found, images captured forever.

Everything else takes a back seat, the work the files the chaos, its me and my mind, reading mails sent over the years, pictures in my mind and those on my hard drive. My fish give me company, chasing each other in their wee watery prison donning my desk. The wee shell and brilliant shades of gold and blue…

A New beginning to an erstwhile end...

Woke up this morning…. It was yet another Monday morning…Yeah!! The most dreadful part of the week, however I felt different, I for a change was not a victim of the usual ‘Monday Morning Blues’…the battle within had eased.. a sense of utopian satisfaction engulfed my soul…. The clouds … the quasi-cool breeze seemed to have washed away all the existential angst.
For once the early morning rush hour traffic didn’t seem to bother me… I even wore a crisp white shirt and my cleanest pair of Levis’ (I had hoped, I wouldn’t have to go to court )
The day rolled by, I was asked to attend a matter at the Supreme Court, so had to get into my court apparel ( a freaking white starched shirt, black trousers, black jacket and a black gown and all of it in the freaking humidity)… minutes passed me by…a drop in an ocean of black.. I watched and lived it all…

Back in office I cleaned my desk, the worn torn Iraqi landscape for once resembled uptown Manhattan. Shocked faces around caught my eye…I was trying hard to be positive…a sole survivor in a genocidal attack was a tough ask… Colleagues around me fell like nine pins… one by one…slow yet steady…every meeting with the boss, the admin head and the quasi boss for them was like surviving a Nazi gas chamber … distraught faces.. frustration writ large on their faces… I admist all that chaos held my head high.. I was walking ‘the’ line.. I was determined not to give in … my mind thought of ways of avoiding another battle with the bitch of an admin head..( lord do we hate her)…
The sun set over Delhi, the birds flew back to their wee nests… however we were still stuck at work.. I sat at my desk sipping on some cold and bitter coffee and staring into space. The day’s newspapers waited patiently …. Bits of paper with nothing but gore blood and heart wrenching tales awaited me… pictures of bodies from the recent terrorist attack… the story of the woman who died of starvation in Delhi… and the governments new devices to screw the middle class over… they were all there… black and red ink on white… stories… all for me to take in and document…

Darkness brought with it an empty feeling, one by one the survivors from the gas chambers streamed out of work… glad to live and survive another day… I however continued to sit at my desk.. taking it all in… I could have thrown another tantrum, there were a million reasons to the do the same, but I had resigned to my fate.. I was content to be swimming in shyte… I was hungry.. I was broke… but it didn’t matter.. coz for once I wasn’t the man I used to be. Maybe I had lost.. maybe I wont fight another battle.. maybe I wont break pens and throw files.. or maybe even bang desks and threaten to kill the admin bitch for not clearing my cheques, maybe just maybe I wont even stand up against the tyranny or throw a fit against a new law at work…
The drive back home was long… unwinding roads.. and chaotic traffic… I was kept company by some random doctor over the radio, who couldn’t stop ranting about anxiety disorders.. strangely I could relate to it..( I was losing it) I showed at least 7 out of the 10 symptoms the Doctor had ranted about…
In retrospect however… I wonder if this newfound attitude was any good….the Indian cricket team yet again grabbed defeat from the jaws of victory… and once again I felt like shyte… complete shyte.. I regretted coming home to watch a bunch of 11 wankers get their sorry arses kicked.. wasn’t the shameful exit from the World Cup enough for a lifetime.. a country of over 1 billion people and we cant find 11 decent wankers to win a game of cricket…
So here I am… sitting in my living room.. sprawled like a dead rat… still dressed in the once white shirt now crumpled and dirty and my ill fitting black trousers… nothing has changed… I feel exactly the same.. except more resigned to this fate.. this life.. this slavery…

Freedom

Independence day… oh well for most of us its nothing but a break from our mundane lives, a public holiday, a day to unwind, a day when you don’t have to fight the traffic or face the shyte of life, but lets just stop here for a minute. Its independence day a day we ought to sit back and reflect on the struggles and the blood lost, a day when we celebrate the victory of human spirit a day when we ought to realize that a lot has been achieved or maybe not? None of us will ever fully know the extent of the things there are to know and love about this great country.
But because our star of freedom has shone - more or less intact, at least in political terms - for 60 years, - today is the day to stop, pause and consider that millions of us are still not free. We are moved around by dams, roads and mines. Our villages are burned in hatred-filled riots. Our husbands, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, daughters, mothers still die of diseases all too easily preventable, we still do not know what it is to read and write, we do not know whether the peace of our forest or field or town will remain undisturbed from one year to the next. We still sell our bodies to buy our bread and we still bleed at the hands of our fellow countrymen. We still live in shacks by the roadside. We are hundreds of years away from 15th August, 1947. And 60 years ahead of it.

Orange skies

Days roll on… spells of rain wash away the heat… shades of amber at dusk.
Surreal in its conception and construction…. I watch the rays of sun paint the cloud streaked skies every evening.. the traffic lights and the chaos all around takes a back seat as I watch those colors unveil magic every evening. Peaceful and beautiful they light my life… memories from the past flood my thoughts.. a child chasing down the many dragon flies…. Wee shorts and old shoes the smell of the fresh grass and those orange skies… not a worry in the world… just the boy and his kingdom painted orange every monsoon. I am that child again.. every evening I relive the past.

Lost lights shine through the glass doors of my perception, blinding whatever is left of this existence. Ghosts from the past haunt the present, free they float through this abyss, sucking the life I once called mine. No matter how far I run, or where I hide they find me, or maybe it’s the other way round… twisted like a mind of a psychopath they weave themselves in circles, I find my self entwined in.
I walk, slow, searching for peace, peace that’s utopian in its own construction. The rain, the gale, they all bring back memories I once buried. I am scared, I am lost, I am just…..

The End…Of this Summer…?

The last few months…where did they go…I only wish I knew…somewhere in the middle of all that paper work (and my back office... can vouch for the same)[1] and the heat… I lost the last few months getting angsty over the heat and the terrible air conditioning at work…
A complete bankruptcy of ideas… a writers block like never before... lost in my own bubble, all I worried about was the heat... and nothing else mattered… every breathing minute was spent coming up with ideas to beat the heat…. I lost sleep... my peace of mind and everything there was to lose... Heat... summer… were the bane of my self perpetuated wasted quasi surreal existence…
I was a walking talking weather channel… you could question me about the temperature and the answers would even include the humidity, the direction and speed of the wind.
The rest of my hours were spent staring at the blue skies… trying to spot a cloud or even a speck of it… it was frankly a shyte state of affairs… Images of me dressed as a character from Lagaan[2]…. Running on the streets of Delhi serenading the rain and the clouds were a constant source of my non existent inspiration.

Dressed in a black jacket and gown[3] while I bathed my self in the pools of sweat all I thought of were those precious drops of rain … I even made enemies... the Admin head at work… who couldn’t make sure that the air conditioning was up to the mark was duly reported to the Big Boss, who well to put it mildly… kicked her sorry behind to the ebbs of the Solar System.
And then…. It ended…the dusty smog that had enveloped Delhi while I was burning in Gujarat transpired itself into a life saving blanket of grey. The skies changed color all while I sat there smoking my third cigarette… as lightning tore the sky and clouds clapped in joy, Delhi came to life… wee drops… like the excelsior of life fell all around… a battle like never before… the wee drops.. millions of them up against the burning heat…slow but steady... the heat abated… one and all poured onto the roads…not a worry in the world…just joy pure in its conception, like a torrent it washed away the heat and with it the sorrows… I just stood there a demented smile streaked across my face… a life worth living just for those few moments… all while that rain fell around me….
[1] For those who are not aware of my working environment, the back office entails the desk right behind mine... it’s a pile of papers and files… epitomizing the concept of order in chaos. It’s a work of art, no one but me can find a file there, people have tried and failed… and now it runs a wee warning “ Touch at Your own Peril”
[2] An Indian movie of great repute. Its where a bunch of Indians kick the English soldiers arses in a game of cricket, and while doing so pray for rain... ya I know it sounds all complicated. But it aint all that... or maybe it is
[3] Right I aint all that mad to wear that voluntarily, some of the evils of being a lawyer at the Supreme Court. Some one please tell the Judiciary that the English have left the country ….

Mekky the wanderer...

I often sit and gaze into the unknown, music aides the process, my mind wanders, far and wide, through the glass doors and into beyond... touching both the seen and the unseen… the cool breeze.. the freedom to be... the life I perceive…
It’s just me, often lost... touching the boundaries of the unknown. Scarlet pines and blue skies… star studded nights... the northern lights… they all dance to my thoughts... I ride these clouds… glide into this beautiful abyss, longing not to come back to this reality… longing to be lost forever.
Like a fire that keeps me warm on a cold winter night… or the fresh sea breeze that wipes away the heat… these thoughts keep me going…these clouds… I want to ride them forever..

Saturday Afternoon Blues- Part 2- The Deceptive Art Of Pretence


Its an art... the art of pretence… you stare at the blank word document... your desk resembles an Iraqi worn torn landscape... papers… files… post it’s and empty coffee cups dawn the horizon of this once neat work station.

Everything including the life of some of my clients is put on the back burner; my colleagues look as sleepy as me. One of them pours over inane blogs including mine. The other sits and plays spider solitaire… a complete brainless entertainment. The quasi boss drools over her crossword whole the admin staff rejoices in its lill victory of holding us back here for the extra three hours.

I aint working, but I have to pretend... pretend to look all busy… I even passed out over a pink marker, woke up with a huge pink stain on my pristine khadi kurta. Everything around me has been reduced to a non existent blurrr…. My bed…is the only constant thought through my head…I can close my eyes and picture my lazy arse sprawled all over it... lost in a dream world, which has nothing but juicy steaks… loads of alcohol and a cottage high in the mountains, with a fire lit and some pearl jam echoing through the surrounding valleys.

I still have to finalize my daily work reports and I really don’t know how I am going to do that... I have looked busy, without even being remotely close to it and now I have to account for it all
Maybe this is how my work done report shall look

Work Done Report 7th April
1-Reversed into a pole… damaged my car and almost got killed by an old lady
2-Checked my mail for 3 hours
3-Drafted 3 issues and viewed some evidence in fast forward for 3 hours
4-Slept over a pink marker
5-smoked 10 cigs
6-drank 6 cups of coffee and one pack of uber bad juice
7-Played with my table lamp for 12 mins
8-Scratched my stubble 28 times
9-Shouted I want to go home 47 times
10-Ate lunch twice
11-read my own blog
12-Made colleagues read my blog

Like really……. This Saturday aint ending and this pretence aint helping… coz I still want to go homeeee

Saturday Afternoon Blues….

The taste of the bitter coffee consumed less than hour ago, keeps me awake... the eyes like always beg to be shut. It’s hot…. the air conditioning aint helping… Delhi… sigh it’s a lazy place to be in this afternoon... and for crying out loud this hasn’t been the best day of my life. It could have been far worse ( like i could have been kidnapped by ugly aliens) and I am just glad it aint.

Woke up with a hang over from hell… a Friday of debauchery didn’t help my cause… a sick flat mate just added to my woes… how I didn’t want to wake up this morning, but it wasn’t to be, even the sudden thunder storm at 4 this morning didn’t stop me from attending work this super lazy Saturday.

So there I was sporting a two day stubble, hair tied in a wee pony, dressed in pair of torn jeans and a kurta all set to leave for work, I was running a wee late, but then again it was Saturday and the big boss was out of town. That’s when my phone rang, it was a client, innaneness poured over through the conversation, I climbed down the two flights of steps got into my car (still on the phone) and reversed straight into the light pole next to my parking spot…. BANG….. CRASH…….. Splaterrrrrrr…… 13 years of driving and there I was facing the most embarrassing moment of my driving career. Of all the things I had to reverse into a light pole thereby denting my wee car. …damaging the pole and breaking the tube light that dawned my street every evening.

The neighbors weren’t too happy…. I could see an old lady run towards me with her stick, brandishing it like a weapon of mass destruction. I was left with no option but to apologize loudly and drive away to safety.( my flat mate still cant get over the whole incident and I am sure as hell that I would be reminded of the same till my death bed.)

Anyways work… oh well was a wee bit boring, we were all supposed to leave work at 1, but alas and if only, the boss called and ordered all of us to stay back in till 4... All plans of spending this lazy sat afternoon went crashing into the proverbial abyss of our existence, the proverbial iron color around our necks just felt tighter and life felt like a bitch …
I still got another hour and nine minutes to go before I can go home and schleeep... but it feels like a few light years away… I WANNNA GO HOMEEEEEEEEEEE

Zephyr in my head…

Its 2 am… sleep is a luxury I cant afford… my head hurts... my eyes are begging to be shut... but the mind is awake and privy to a million thoughts… memories like the zephyr rush in.. Beautiful... and fresh... it brings with it... everything that’s passed me by... its just me and all these thoughts rushing in… the snow… the rain… the one line mails.. the cig that’s smoked till it begs you to stop the drunken stupors... the cold... the midnight sun... the hours at my study…doing nothing but gazing beyond the window…searching for answers to questions which didn’t exist…
Words are like threads…stitched together to form a veil for one’s existence... I remind my self... that I have come a long way... a long way from what I didn’t want… but this mind just plays it all in my head over and over again.. I smile just thinking these memories shall last forever...

In Memory of the 'Law Pod'

( A late December Post)

There it lay in its watery grave…lifeless, it was breathing its last… the smell of death hung high… my law pod was drowning in a pool of coffee and water on my study…my friend and constant company through thick and thin lay there screaming for me to save it.. but alas!! It was too late… it had been drowning slow for a week, while I lay in bed fighting a common cold.

With tears in my eyes I slowly picked up the lifeless pod… the ember glow of its dials no longer burnt bright… there was still life.. but time was running out…. With my dying friend in my hand I ran …. destination any spot in the house which had some warm life saving sun light, my law pods excelsior of life….

An hour later nothing had much had changed, life was slowly being drained out of that wee pod…. Something drastic had to be done… the house nurse was summoned ( my mums' a doctor so there is no shortage of nurses in the house)… and was categorically asked to dry the cold and freezing pod… lill did I know that it was the last time my law pod would breathe….

The nurse ( Bhimkala) did return 10 minutes later…. a disfigured law pod in her hands.. I screamed.. pulled out my lonnnng hair.. what had she done? Whatever happened to this once smart pod? MICROWAVE.. yes that’s what happened to my law pod… the house nurse shoved it in the microwave for 30 seconds with the hope of drying it…. My wee pod was first drowned and then burnt.. a sad and painful death indeed….

Now as i look back... all the hours spent with the law pod bring back memories both good and bad... it shall be dearly missed

My Moment High in the Sky…

The blue skies, the nippy zephyr and the warm mountain sunshine…just Glen, her and me…lost in the abyss they call my world… surrounded by mountains…snow peaked and enchanting… I sat there slowly sipping on my milky coffee, smoking a cig and soaking in the moments that were passing me by.. they were my last… the last of the many we had shared and the last of the ones that awaited us… time could have stood still but it didn’t…instead it flowed as steadily as the mountain stream hidden amongst those towering peaks…

Everything was just perfect… the pizzas roasted over the freshly chopped fire wood… the coffee spiked with goats’ milk…those eyes… and the music that played over and over again in my head… I was finally living those dreams I had spent planning in my head for months at end while I lay alone in that hole…. There wasn’t a cloud in sight.. not in the sky nor in my head.. clarity for once was my forte…clarity of thought, mind and soul… and as I sat under the shade of that towering deodar tree.. my soul was reborn ….

Saddam - An Execution or a Well Planned Murder- You Decide
30th December 2006

Woke up this morning and I was sure nothing was going to be the same again, at approximately half eight Indian standard time Saddam Hussian was finally executed. Days of speculation came to end in one sleepy moment. A travesty of sorts, a violation of rights we all fight and sometimes even try and stand for. Images of a morose yet somberly peaceful Saddam standing with the hangmen waiting for his end to engulf him. The image is going to haunt me forever, a ruler an alleged tyrant was finally consumed by the American hypothesis of unriddled guilt and underlying fear towards the middle east and the Muslims.

One is consumed by many a questions in regards to the outcome and the desire behind this satanic action. Is this a victory in the fight towards terror as alleged by Bush? Or is it the realization of a new democracy in Iraq, my answers to the above posed questions is for obvios reasons in the negative.

Saddam's execution is not going to stop the flow of terror in the world community if at all it will only result in the increase of the back lash by the Muslims towards the Americans and their allies. To add to this is the insensitive timing of the execution, which was carried out on the holy day of the Muslim calendar, now just imagine Bush being executed ( if at all,) on Christmas, how would then that be accepted by the Americans and the West.

The West often complains of terrorism and jehad, but aren’t these insensitive and completely unjustified actions a reason for the birth of these so called terrorists? There is only a limit till where a person can be stretched and his patience tried, how long will the West especially the Americans walk over the sentiments and the lives of the millions of Muslims who are being tortured and killed in Iraq and Afghanistan?

The unfolding of these events only takes my mind back to the dark days preceding the holocaust, where Adolf Hitler had convinced the Germans that the Jews were a blotch on the world society and a threat, which eventually led to the cold blooded extermination of millions of Jews. Keeping this in mind it can easily be concluded that the Americans are doing just the same in today’s world against the Muslims, by convincing the dumb uneducated Americans that the Muslims are a threat to world peace and detrimental to their own existence. Isn’t then genocide being committed by Bush and the Americans towards the hapless Muslim community?

Coming back to Saddam, one has to realize that he was captured after being drugged by the use of chemical gases (which has been denied by the Americans) and later portrayed to the world with injuries to the forehead and condition that was worse than one could have perceived. The following 3 years were nothing short of the violations of Saddam’s rights, with tabloids in the UK running pictures of this once great leader doing his laundry or walking around in his prison cell in underwear. Even the trial as per the international legal standards which have developed since the Nuremburg trials was a farce and a blotch on the international criminal justice system. Saddam was not only denied his basic inherent legal rights, but it was made sure that most of the lawyers defending him were killed during his trial. This throws up yet another important question, why then was not Saddam tried by an International Court outside of Iraq, why was then the trail allowed to be conducted by a biased Iraqi court, which had only one plan laid out for this erstwhile leader…Death!!! Execution and Humiliation!!!

Some Lights are Just Not Meant to Turn Green

Winding roads… traffic lights…they refuse to turn green… it seems forever…the sun slowly unwinds in the distance…every passing minute... gets me closer to that moment I don’t want to be a part of ... but I am still stuck here….for a few more of those passing moments… moments I hope never pass me by…a paradoxical `end to a perfect setting….

Soon these lights shall turn green and it will be time to move on…and I shall once again be left with nothing but a whole load of memories to play over and over again in my head… those shades of green and brown shall haunt me for ever…. I might not live long enough to see them again... I might never feel the same… the trees and hills would have nothing to say…. the mountains around me might even stop breathing...

These winding roads will be too lonely... every subsequent cup of lemon tea will taste too sour…. The snow in the wee crystal globe will be all that would be left of me…
If only time could stand still… just for once just for a few hours…just when it would matter… but alas, soon these lights shall turn green… and it will be time to say goodbye… time to move on….

An Angsty Getaway

26th December

There are times when I question my own actions, and this has to be one of the craziest things I have done in the longest time. I am sure most will agree that every man his limits and I guess I reached the epitome of mine a few hours back. Left with no other option but to pack my non existent bags, I found my self on a bus looking out a window and climbing upto this quaint little village bang in the middle of the mighty Himalayas. Snow covered peaks and sub zero temperatures I couldn’t find a perfect setting for this angsty getaway.
It wasn’t 24 hours back when I was dressed in my Sunday best and sipping some decent scotch at an up market get together and now here I am in my torn black jumper my boots ( which in the opinion of some of my friends and my mother resemble trucks, some have even gone to the extent of labeling them as down right ugly, gosh some people need to work on their taste in shoes.) and sitting across a fire which took me more than an hour to put together.
My wee tent, a pack of smokes, some really cheap rum (basically meant for horses, Shane trust me you and Pete would love it too) the thick fog and the mountains to give me company. Not a soul in sight and I couldn’t be happier. Its almost 2 am and the only light in sight is the light from my laptop and the orange embers from the fire which once was and which is still trying to keep me warm but failing miserably.
The setting is pretty surreal and maybe even a wee bit eerie, I cant help but think of all the spooky stories that I have heard over the years, they all come to life in my head. The cheap rum doesn’t really help, headless men with knives and women in white walking past me with a candle all seem like a possibility and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared, but it just adds to the thrill.
Might be Contd………

Jesus Stole My Thunder

The setting was just right, the month was December the year 1979 and I am sure it was a wee cold, to add to all that underlying excitement Christmas was just a few hours away. My mother was almost 8 months pregnant and I am sure sick of carrying me around. After spending days confined to her bed she my late father decided to bring in Christmas by watching the mother of all Indian Movies Sholay!!!!!.

Jai Veeru and Gabbar danced around trees and shot some bullets, the movies was just perfect Thakur without his hands ( I always wondered how he ever wiped his arse, I still do) Jai with his tight shirts and killer one liners, Veeru with his ‘I will jump off the water tank’ scene and last but not the least Gabbar with his famous ‘ yeh hath mujhe de de Thakur” ( give me those hands Thakur) dialogue , am sure was all and more than what my mother could handle and that’s when I decided to say Hello !!! to the world. Some 40 odd days premature I decided to jump onto the bandwagon called life. (though I still regret that decision of mine).

But lill did I know that Jesus would steal my thunder. I was, after all born on Christmas, Now, look at it from my perspective its not everyday that one is born, it just one of those once in a life time moments and I am sure ya want it to be perfect just like some other life defining, life changing moments that one seems to encounter every now and then . I mean think of this from a logical perspective, you are down on ya knee and asking the woman of ya dreams to marry you, (now that I am sure most will agree is a life defining moment), but to your utter bewilderment your best friend had, just a few minutes ago asked the same woman to marry him and she, as your luck would have it had said yes. Now that my friend epitomizes or rather illustrates the concept of stealing my thunder and to an extent after I found out who Jesus was ( sometime in my 1st grade) born on the same date as me, I felt cheated and used. May be that’s a crap analogy but then again everything that comes out of my wee head is either crap or way twisted.

So that’s what Lord Jesus did to me, some 2006 years ago, he decided to waltz into this world without ever realizing that many moons later he would be stealing my only thunder. Now now, don’t get me wrong here, its not like I never wanted Jesus around, but couldn’t he have like waited a day, I mean just one day but no, I mean what was the hurry, the Son of God chose just the day I chose to walk out . (I am sure a lot of you out there are going to label me as a heretic and my statements as blasphemous)

The strange thing is most people think its rather cool to share ya birthday with Jesus, but like really, come to think of it, half the people forget its your birthday and are too busy getting sozzled for Christmas and the other half are just too busy with their families celebrating the event of the year to give you a few minutes of their time and expecting them to do so would only be unfair.
So there, with every passing year as the hair on my head turns grey and the inches around my waist increases my angst against my birth date manifolds itself into levels unimaginable. Further still commercialization of the season hasn’t helped either, everywhere you go, you find Santa’s( on a crash diet) from Somalia walking around making an arse of themselves, sales and the festive furry just make all forget that hello!!! It’s my birthday……. Thus I can confidently rest my case and Say JESUS STOLE MY THUNDER!!!!!!

Rediscovering my Angst


It takes a lot to rub off the rust that erodes the sensibility of this once wasted now almost redefined existence of mine. It’s taken a long time actually 32 days of this self imposed hiatus to be able to pen down my thoughts once again.
Glasgow seems like a distant dream or maybe even a blatantly cold nightmare and frankly the last month in this self imposed exile I haven’t missed it even a wee bit. The hours spent trying to heal those wounds which I once thought would never heal have been the breath of fresh air I have longed and hoped for.
It’s just me now, a cup of coffee, a pack of untouched smokes, a light, the common cold, my long disheveled hair, 3 day old stubble and I am all set to let the words flow. But this is where the writers block creeps in. Too many thoughts and way too many ideas rush through this wee head of mine. Let me see, what or who should I write about? The cops who waited patiently for me at the airport on my arrival or should I write about the window I looked out of in that quaint eatery high in the Himalayas or maybe even that face that never was?

But I’d rather talk and wrte about my new found angst towards the news channels which have in the name of free speech and democracy blatantly raped the ethos of News programming. These so called quasi upholders of our democracy seem to have taken over the role of not only the executive but also the judiciary. Where news anchors are the new self proclaimed judges of a morally estranged society, which thrives on the blood of many hapless innocents, where these very rapists want to execute every innocent for crimes they have allegedly committed, where they end up raping a nation under the veil of democracy. Who ever gives them the right to pronounce someone guilty of a crime which he might or might not have committed? If that being the case why have judges, lawyers and courts in the first place. Let’s shut them all down and let these stupid news channels decide and dictate the fate of the few who have inspired the fancy of these fascist bastards. I wish it ended there, but no, if they are not busy convicting someone then they dig out news which I am sure is the only source of entertainment for the many who seem to have fallen into this erstwhile trap laid out by these very rapists and fascists, where they spend a whole day broadcasting a fat baby and what he eats, or how about the holy communion of two dogs, yes you read that right, two fuckin dogs that sure as hell is breaking news, especially when they call in an animal activist who even argues her case of defending the 50 lakh that was spent on the above mentioned communion on the grounds of compassion, all while people and farmers in Maharashtra are starving and busy killing them selves Like some one please shoot that bitch.. Is that news, someone pleases tell me is that freaking news?

Like really… I could have changed channels flipped to something more sensible, but they all sang a song which was worse than the other. It was choosing between the lesser evil. News is no longer something we all viewed to find out things worth finding out about.
I of all don’t want to flip to a news channel which is interviewing this man who can allegedly mimic crows. For Petes' sake now just coz all of us can mimic dogs and cats does that entail that we will be featured on news channels?

Breaking News. A man from Dehradun can bark.

But the story that took the cake was the interview of this deranged bitch who claimed she could transform her self into a snake every morning. Someone please tell those news channels that the woman was obviously either deranged or smoking some shit. But no, apparently it was important enough to be telecasted as breaking news. Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Though for now, I guess I have vented enough and should get back to some more constructive musing ….

Thaw Time

21st November 2006 (date of the original post)

* A month back (not like I remember much) I found my self typing out some random jazz under the influence of corpus amounts of alcohol, the result of which was a post riddled with grammatical errors and typos from hell. In an effort to solve the mystery of the missing post, I give you all a better version of the same. My only dilemma was post the above mentioned corrections the original drunken affect was lost in the saneness of my present existence

I haven’t slept in 32 hours (you can’t really call the power nap I took some 20 odd hours back as a misconstrued notion of a normal mans’ sleep) so once again I am sleep deprived, a wee drunk and terribly hangover.

Well that’s me…. All the impending stress of excess baggage and psychotic, hypochondriac, kleptomaniac demented flat mates finally seems to have taken a back seat. For the record I was 19 kilos over the permitted baggage allowance but then again I managed to convince them to let me take 15 of those precious kilos without paying a single penny (not like I had any). As far as the remaining 4 kilos were concerned... oh well I gave it to the ground staff who were reluctant to graciously accept some of my unlaundered underwear, socks and loads of shit I wouldn’t even wanna mention here.

And those flat mates... Oh Lord !!!!!… I hope some one chops them to lill bits and feeds them to dogs at the gates of hell. Any more statements made by me here, and if that bitch reads this she might just break her head and call the cops and get me arrested for abetment of causing grievous hurt. Come to think of it… I don’t care a flying fuck any more, bitches and dogs like them should just be shot in their greedy non existent balls

So there goes… I have vented enough… I am finally going home… 14 months in this deep freeze already feels like a distant dream and I am all too glad at least for now, it just might be a different story when I land in India tomorrow and melt., in that case my will shall be available online for those who might think they are lucky enough to claim anything that’s worth claiming for.
Flying over Istanbul and I have another six hours before I land in Dubai and then it’s a long wait before I get onto that all important flight to Delhi
Mixed feelings fog my mind right now… I am not really sure what to expect, to start with I am not used to having people around no more, it might just be a wee strange for me to be surrounded by overwhelming number of people. It sure as hell will be strange sleeping at night or at least pretending to sleep with all the chaos around me. Further still my biggest fear is the heat and sun, for the record I even googled for the sun over a month back, things have been bleak enough for me to restore to such extreme measures…. I guess I should get back to my Irish coffee.
More from the next leg my journey


Over Tehran

(Very very drunk)- giving Good ol’ Pete a run for his money
I hope Shane is reading this... dude I am over ya favorite country in the whole wide world… and I so wish I could just drop down to meet that hero of a man they call their President.
2 hours away from Glasgow ( Dubai… was just too hammered to remember where I was headed) and I am hammered like no body’s business, 7whiskeys 4 Jack Daniels and 5 baileys what else could ya expect and I am still not done/ I got a long way to go before I can call it quits… the lack of sleep coupled with all this alcohol in the system is doing wonders and I love the feeling. For the record the cabin temperature as been increased and I can already feel the heat scorching my back. Delhi is going to be fun.

The Phoenix Shall Rise…

..Away... lost...... and rediscovering my self.... digging deep within to pull out the Mehak that once was.... a month back home and I feel more alive than I have been in years…There is so much to write... so much more to feel… so much more to share…. All of which shall ensue slowly.I apologize for being away… for almost disappearing of the face of this planet… but now I am back... And my words once again shall flow like a river thirsty to find its home...

The conceptual dichotomy of the Seen and the Unseen

The urge to kill ‘it’ still burns bright… the warm glow from the embers of my hate for ‘it’ light up my life… maybe the only light in my life… the wound is still fresh.. the blood is still warm.. slowly it trickles down my face… reminding me I am still here.. still alive, the pain will always be there, just that I have gotten used to it, its more like second skin … a skin I would rather not have....

Tears and blood, a heady concoction…… and I lay there while they stood over me, blow after blow, more blood and more tears… they were on a high… a high like never before… high on my blood and tears…. Slowly I could taste it too…those faces.. those eyes those images can never be unseen...

Animal Rights My Arse...

Came across this photograph on the internet this evening[1], protestors from PETA[2] standing outside the visiting West Indian Cricket team’s visit to the KFC food outlet in Bombay, with slogans of ‘QUIT KFC’ scribbled across the many cards donned by these hypocritical quasi- activists.
This gets ironical, I am an activist and an NGO person (sometimes even the very atypical- kurta, jeans and jhola clad and a voice the world can hear), but today’s actions can be construed only as a hypocritical attention seeking ploy.
Why do I say this? I do have my reasons and they are quite a few, a couple of years back, I had just moved to Bombay and after a long days work had stepped into a Suburban Coffee Shop. As I sat there sipping on some much needed almost delicious coffee, I saw this man throw a black bag in the garbage bin that donned the corner of the road. To my surprise, I heard (it initially sounded like a little baby crying) a soft wailing emanating from the bin. Fearing the worse I ran to the bin to dig out the bag which was the source of the noise.
Packed inside were the 12 puppies, maybe just a few hours old, shivering, wet and covered in Lord only knows what all, dumbfounded as I generally am, had no clue what to do with them, tried calling a few friends to take them in for the night (I was as usual homeless those days and was shacking at my aunts place.. who hated me… and the thought of me taking those pups home to my aunt …oh well lets not even go there!!)
Luckily a few colleagues from work joined me with those 12 almost dead puppies… we cleaned them, got them some milk and someone even agreed to take them home for that night.
It was only the next morning that the search for someone to help us with those puppies started, and it was during that bit that we got in touch with people from PETA, and their reply... was brilliant, “Sir we are sorry but we can only offer you a banana and some milk for the puppies”… for Christ’s’ sake... Unfortunately the puppies died over the next 24 hours…..
I so wish that the above mentioned incident was my last brush with the people from PETA... but if wishes were horses... a few moons later, I was visiting a friends place for a night of debauchery, when I saw the most beautiful German Sheppard, (single boned, double coated) locked in a little cage without water outside a building in Juhu during the humid Bombay summer, the bitch on closer examination looked unhealthy and maggot infested.
The only solution at hand was to call the Honorificabilitudinitatibus people at PETA, which we reluctantly did, (as the owner of the pet refused to comply with our requests of having the bitch medically treated and releasing her from her little prison). And what did the people at PETA do… NOTHING… “ Sir sorry there is nothing we can do” Why … then why have an organization, which claims to achieve the goals of treating animals in an ethical manner? Why was I not surprised…. When all they can do is hold banners and protest against a cricket team that turns up to support its sponsors.

Alas, we call NGO’s as the bridge between law and policy, but some NGO’s especially in the wake of the current events, just seem to widen the existing gap, they seem only interested in attaining the much needed media attention and glare which serves the dual purpose of publicity and fund raising but somewhere along this, aren’t they forgetting the aims for which they were created?
Yes, it is important to raise ones’ voice, to raise every issue and fight it to the core, no matter how trivial it might be, but why take this hypocritical stand? Weren’t the lives of those 12 puppies and the German Sheppard (was informed a few months later that she didn’t last the summer) as important as stopping people from eating the chicken at KFC? You decide.

[1] Further See http://content-uk.cricinfo.com/ci/content/image/263724.html
[2] People for the Ethical treatment of animals, http://

The End... It Beckons...

The alcohol in my system has been replaced by coffee (blood... what’s that?)... Dark and black… like a fresh oil slick it floats ... leaving me sleepless and dazed… it’s a sign... a sign of the impending end that stares me in my face.. a week from now.. Ill still be sitting here on this fake leather couch …the fire shall still be burning... but… I will be a free man… no longer would I be spending my long winter nights in the arms of Ved Kumari, Asha Bajpai, Rema Nagarajan,and Nyquist…nor will I be waking up to N.L Mitra and K.C. Sarkar by my side.. And how I am going to miss them all.

No longer will I come up with an earth shattering, life changing brain storm while spending quality ( quantitative value was reduced to a distant dream a month back) time on my pristine marble pot…nor will I run out of my bath still cold and wet, to write that one point, which could change the course of dissertation.

Sigh… yea I am jumping the gun…but I am tired... a tired and near dead man... trust me it aint easy spending your nights and morning with so many people…I'm tired of making love to my dissertation… and now I just want it over… its hard to explain…but…what do you expect.. When a man is forced to make non stop love for a month (45 days actually... some one call the people at Guinness... i meant those guys that publish that book on records and not the ones that makes that irish beer)... (I am sure I put superman man to shame with this feat)….

At the end of this... the sun shall still shine (I have to be kidding myself... it never does in Glasgow) and the rain shall still fall (that’s more like it)…but... my life’s never gonna be the same… 7 years of all this (ill)legal education (fuck I had to be mad)… and it shall be over... a few more footnotes… references and the freaking conclusion and I am done….

What next….?

I wish I knew… no longer can I hide in the arms of education fooling the world that I am preparing my self to step into the Colosseum of life to face the battles that await me…but then again… nothing lasts forever and the only thing constant is change.. Blah blah blah…( all that jazz.. someone shove a cork)

I have to stop kidding my self…..the time has finally come ( unless I lose my already Looney mind and jump into a PhD program)… my days as a poor, broke, hungry, drunk and constantly hung-over student are almost over… and my days as a struggling, hungry, broke, homeless out of work human rights lawyer are about to begin.. So may the Man above (You know what may all the Indian Gods above…Man... woman... half man... half elephant... and all the combinations you can come up with.) bless me… I need it all and more…

SPECIAL SERIES…
AN EIGHT PART WEEKEND SPECIAL

PROLOGUE

Being me is a crazy state of affairs.. a mind full of thoughts.. dark yet alive…and being left alone with practically nothing to do (over a weekend)…I couldn’t help but write, rant, shout, scream, cry, jump, laugh, muse and sometimes even smile all through words and letters on pieces of paper…. This eight part series started off as a note on the back of a used tissue while I sat in the patio watching the rain, and ended with me sitting in the darkness of my room while the flame of the lone candle giving me company danced to my thoughts…


Part I
Friday the 15th

A Weekend From Hell…

(Explicit Content... Reader discretion required)

Woke up cold… and shivering... I was still in bed, yet freezing… Glen[1] had gone to sleep, very unlike Glen... my head hurt and I could hear the devil cry…. Arghhh I had woken up to a hell stuck inside a deep freezeeeeeeeeeeeee….
The constant wailing and the chaos outside needed attention, weary, I slowly dragged my useless arse out of my once warm bed…my eyes red and puffed and my hair ….LORD…. my hair…!!!!!
Time came to a stand still as I stood in the hallway…my life coming to a screeching halt… images (freeze frame)… a wailing child ….a screaming mother… and a pitiful husband all of whom stood in front of me[2]… I wish I had dropped dead or never woken up…. But…if only….

BANG it hit me like a freight train and left me gasping for air as I read the eviction notice… my world or whatever was left of it fell apart (YET FUCKIN AGAIN)[3], I was sinking slow, the wooden panels below gave way to quick sand which was slowly though surely sucking me in…I was drowning in my own filth of misfortunes WHY ME!!!!????!!!!
After having escaped the clutches of a gay nudist and the murder camps from hell I had just moved into this little heaven and was beginning to call it ‘my home’… and now I was faced with this GOD FUCKIN FORSAKEN eviction notice… that BITCH (landfuckinlady) hadn’t paid her mortgage… which entailed that we the poor tenants had to evict bag baggage ( luckily I neither own any bags nor any baggage.. phew!!!) …..

I wish it had ended there ( in which case I would have quietly gone back to my room lit a cig, switched on Glen, checked my mail and heard some music)… but nooo….. the landfuckinlady had not even paid the bills which meant all the essential services were disconnected ( only to be restored sometime on Monday ( or so I thought in the original draft))… which meant one and only one thing… a weekend from hell... with no lights… heating.. And most importantly NO internet… my life line... my only link to the outside world…..
But… I could survive this... couldn’t I ? considering back in 2002 my then flat mates and me had lived 11 days without any of the above mentioned services, after my then land lord had decided to fuck us up ( don’t blame him really... we had ‘happily’ smoked up all his rent for 3 whole months ) but this was different… fuck this was different….

Now really!!! there are a lot of people out there who need to be killed shot and murdered.. but if there ever was one that needed to be killed instantly and painfully it had to be my conniving lying landfuckinlady.. I really do.. in fact after this weekend I wanna kill every fuckin Scott ( William FUCKIN WALLACE included but ain’t that arse of a hole already dead) that walked the face of this God forsaken wretched planet….

[1] IBM R 52 Think pad
[2] My Current Flat mates
[3] Refer to earlier posts

Part II-
Sometime Late on Friday night

The Weekend Ranting Continues….
Train Spotting……

Stuck in this Scottish hell ( FOR NO FAULT OF MY OWN) I feel it is pertinent for all of ya’ll to know what Tommy Renton ( Ewan Mcgregor) opines about Scotts... AND I in more ways than one concur in toto


“ …..WE( Scotts) ARE THE LAST OF THE LOT, THE SCUM OF THE FUCKIN EARTH, MOST WRETCHED MISERABLE SERVILE PATHETIC TRASH THAT’S EVER SHAGGED CIVILIZATION, SOME PEOPLE HATE THE ENGLISH, I DON’T… THEY ARE JUST WANKERS, WE ON OTHER HAND ARE COLONIZED BY WANKERS, CANT EVEN FIND A DECENT CULTURE TO BE COLONIZED BY, WE ARE JUST RULED BY A FEW ARSE HOLES, IT’S A SHIATE STATE OF AFFAIRS TO BE IN, AND ALL THE FRESH AIR IN THE WORLD WONT MAKE ANY FUCKIN DIFFERENCE…..”

Tommy My Man I Couldn’t Have Put It Better…

( P.S, Angie No offence. The doctrine of exception applies to you in toto)

Part III-
Musing on Saturday Evening…

A Life Less Worth Living

A winter that never ends, a night that never sees the light of the day, caught in a flux life seems to have come to stand still... a year and you forget what it feels to have the summer sun breathing down your neck or the sight of the light at the end of the tunnel.
A year to date in this prison… and you search for those simple reasons to live everyday… you dream for that sun to rise... but it’s just a dream... you walked away from a life you once called your own... only with the hope to be back soon, but even before you knew it, you found yourself marooned on this island... in this prison… the life you left behind moved on, while you stood there only to find yourself picking up those pieces.
You spend many long nights here in this cell, alone in the dark with nothing but your thoughts time can draw out like a blade
You find yourself caught in the path of a tornado, but you live with the hope that no storm lasts forever, but slowly you find yourself losing that hope, some one once said… get busy living or get busy dying and now you cant make that simple yet stifling choice…

Part IV-
Losing my head by late Saturday night

Freedom from the Fear Within…

Am I scared? Maybe I am, scared of my self... scared of this life I call my own... I just want to run away from this all. Maybe run away from my self, maybe then ill be free, free from the shackles from the past.
Most say, running away is an act of cowardice but I beg to differ, its infact tougher than just living in the rut they call life, people walk away leaving you behind to pick up what’s left and what they didn’t want, which in most cases is nothing more than those dark images I talk about... and none of it makes sense to me no more…
Waking up to nothing is not what I had dreamt off…holding on to all those images in my head before I head to bed is not what I had hoped for, and now all I hope for is that freedom coz I know, hope is a good thing… maybe the best of things and no good thing ever dies…
I find I am so excited with the thought of that freedom in my head, a thought only a free man can feel before the start of a long journey, the conclusion of which is uncertain… I hope I can make it across and find that freedom... I hope I can run from my fear... I hope…

Part V –
Drowning In the Depths of Depression by early Sunday Morning

Turn back time

Been a year since I met him last... hugging him goodbye, I promised to be back, now all I am left with is the image I see every time I look at my self in the mirror.

It was a wet muggy evening a year ago… and he stood there, waving me goodbye, if only I knew that it was the last time I would see or meet him, maybe just maybe I would have had more to say to him than just that simple goodbye with the promise to be back…

As I walked away from him that evening, a chapter I took for granted all my life came to an end, a few months later I found my self standing over the hot ashes that once was the man I miss so much now….

The man, who taught me to hold a cricket bat, or unsuccessfully fly a kite, was reduced to uncomplexed images and the sight of his ashes being washed down the river…. It’s a harsh truth to face… all I do anymore is to hope I can turn back time so maybe I could meet him for one last time… terrible thing to live in, fear…all I want is to be back where things make sense.. where I wont have to be afraid all the time….

Part VI-
Sunday Night Torture

My greasy friend Insomnia

With insomnia nothing is real, reality is far away, everything is a copy of a copy of a copy... when you have insomnia you are never really asleep and never really awake… a surreal dance of unwanted existence... you float within a bubble of never ending dejavu…no matter what you do… its never new… its beautiful..
Empty football fields of stark nothingness…reflections from your present demean the presence of your past.
Lost in an oblivion, dark, silent and complete... somewhere you find freedom... yet losing all hope in that freedom wrapped around you…. You become addicted... every night you die and every night you are born again…resurrected…….

Past VII-
Law Pod to the rescue By Early Monday Morning…


Musical Reprise….


Reprise… wasted… lost... an outlet...soul crunching solos in the back ground... lyrics that make ya wanna kill yourself or shoot your neighbor…. Head spins, your body sways to the rhythm… eyes shut your mind wanders to the ebbs of that desolate place your mind begs you not to leave ... its a drug... a high ….an orgasm, simple yet complexed, an orchestrated harmony of ecstasy.. You let go of it all… the pain… the impending bills… the lack of a home… lighting… heating… internet and all the shit that makes ya wanna curl up and die….
Spread eagle on the floor even the Scottish winter feels like a Mediterranean delight… you grow wings ya never thought ya had… no amount of alcohol or weed can get ya there..
Entwined in darkness its just you and the music that plays in ya wee head…ya cant hear it no more... ya only feel it like knives cutting you slow, the warmth of ya own blood washing it all… … its there…simple yet resolute… destined to take over your body mind and even your soul you once sold at the pawn shop... suddenly there are no unlock able locks or unwinnable wars….its just you and the music in ya head… loud and yet your own…

Part VIII

Late Monday Night – Nostalgia Beckons

A Moment in Thimpu[1] A Memory for a Life Time

Its magical... invoking a surreal feeling of spiritual existence
Pristine blue skies strewn with shapeless clusters of cumulus, like cotton they float down the slopes with the zephyr searching for a soul to touch …. The crisp breeze… fresh like a mountain spring...
The rocky paths paving its way through the surrounding mystical Monasteries all along the prayer flags dancing in the wind...
The temple bells chime in the distance… The smell of freshly burned musk mixed with delicious odor of freshly baked momos lingers.
Bright Rhodendrons bloom on the distant slopes… flames of the forest play their little games on the snow clad slopes…
An orchestra of this mountainous paradise playing nature’s own symphony ….

[1] Capital of Bhutan

Epilogue...

4 days of hell are almost over and I am about to shift base to the University Library, after a sojourn through the dark ages here are a few essential tips on how to survive if ya ever get fucked over by a Scottish Land Lady.

1. Never come to Scotland... all that beauty… whiskey and bagpipes are just a cover up for the scams that lay hidden below …
2. Stock yourself with cigarettes, if you don’t smoke you have no idea what you are missing out on... this is a good time to start... it keeps you warm
3. Valiums... yea... those beautiful pills… get hold of 'em… stock ‘em store 'em… shall help you turn long lonely nights spent in the cold to peaceful dreams
4. Orange juice... drink lots of it ( don’t ask me why.. but I am off alcohol.. any other weekend I would have advised on getting drunk.. but for someone who is trying to quit, orange juice seemed the only plausible alternative)
5. Stop using hot water for showers… there is no greater pleasure than taking a bath in freezing water…
6. Keep your I- pod at hand... if ya don’t have one... get loads of batteries for your Discman… Walkman. Etc…
7. And most importantly... be filthy fuckin rich… rich enough to buy your self a place anywhere you go… which would entail that you would never have to depend on those conniving bitches

A Dichotomy of a Fall...

Slow… I fall…. Just the thin air between me and the rocks below… it will soon be over… just a matter of a few seconds… everything slows down… the images around blur into a whirlpool of thoughts…this shall be the last fall…my only fall… I feel free ... free from the shackles off the past…

Slow, the rocks below look bigger…they take shape…the soft bed awaits my final fall… soon I might feel no pain… I shall drown in the warmth of my own blood… it shall wash it all away … though I can’t wait to feel the pain that awaits me…. it shall hopefully erase the past… the pain…the surreal life of wasted existence... this pain, that shall end it all... I can’t await my final fall…

When Darkness engulfed Time ....

Images in the dark…my minds full of them.. inane and painful they plague my existence…the wee lamps in the distance burn bright…my mundane existence seems to have plunged me into a black hole of self inflicted solitude… am a shadow of my former…burdened by the those images from the past… when did it all end…when did all those moments turn into images in my head… where did it all go.. . when and how did time fly me by….

Moon Dancing….

It descends slow... slow behind those Cider trees.. playing its lill games with me.. I lie sleepless watching the moon dance in the sky…darkness torn to bits by its soft glow… the ciders lit up by its touch.. I can see the mystic dance unfold right in front of my eyes…

A Paradise Lost....

It’s a cold September night and I cant stop sneezing, maybe I should just step back into my room snuggle up to my pillow and dream, but I cant, I d rather sit out in the patio and watch the clouds streak the sky.

Some white Chilean wine, dark chocolate and Floyd, a perfect recipe for some wasted thoughts taking shape into words on a white sheet of paper.
My mind seems to wander far into the abyss of dreams that line my thoughts, it’s just me and the stars that dot the sky and maybe even the moon that pretends to shine bright. I can’t help but think of the mountains I left behind, green and always covered with mist, the sound of the gushing monsoon springs, the fresh intoxicating breeze, and the music of a thousand crickets playing their final parody.

The wine does no good, I can shut my eyes and feel it all, feel the rain on my face and the mist in my hair... hands spread out and I am sure I can fly… the wee huts that line the sky... the smoke from their chimneys… the sweet smell of tea savored with goats milk… that’s home… that’s a paradise lost…..

A new beginning...

Back from the land of no return…from the oblivious into the abyss... leaving behind a trail of strewn memories and friends… I move on…move into a new space... a new room... a set of new walls …I am here … and it’s a wee strange…. A new shell… a new roof ... a… new window …a new view to stare into... a new bed to call home…

Its overwhelming... leaving behind all that and more… the rain... the last hugs... the final goodbyes...a paradox of overwhelming emotions… I find myself drowning in the ebbs of its constant flow… there is pain... but it’s all numbed… I feel lost… lost in the vastness of this wee space... empty yet crowded…beautiful yet strange …I shiver... but its warm… the night sky... it looks different… the view it ain't the same… it can never be… the Cathedral its gone… replaced by those meadows…

Change is inevitable… but I hate it… it leaves ya naked…cold and scared…. But this is a new beginning and I am off to make a fresh start leaving behind a whole hoard of issues only to find my self a set of new ones…

..........

Its there... that smile... ya can see it but you soo cant feel it... you see those eyes… deep and enchanting... ya heart skips a beat... you wanna touch her face and feel the skin on your bare hands... its all there... an image in your head.. An image ya cant let go... or rather an image that wont let go of ya... you are possessed... charmed... and imprisoned... ya wanna run away from it but ya cant... its not the past.. Its neither the future and it sure as hell ain’t the present... Its a walk on the beach while ya watch the sun go down and let the waves wash ya feet... its that breeze.. calm yet refreshing...
Bewildering questions just like her face haunt my sleep... it lacks color...but then so do dreams... its like a book without a cover.. a story without an ending... beautiful...enchanted yet cursed... you wanna sit across that face... you wanna make that image real... ... ya wanna add colors to it .... But you can’t..... That image... That face… it haunts me...