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)