Monday, November 22, 2010

Florentino Ariza

You have no right over my tears
The ones that flow often and freely
Like rivers of perennial sorrow
Eternal in my suffering.
Why expect me to forget
Moments of love and loss?
I will live and die each moment
Willingly without remorse,
Over the past that was ours
And the future that wasn't.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Bed Of Sorrows

As she walked down the empty path, oblivious to the drizzle around her, lost in thoughts made up of myriad moments, all revolving around him, causing painful emotional convulsions and pale mirages; she suddenly remembered that tomorrow would be his birthday. A mere six months back this would be a cause of silent happiness, silent because she could never let him how she felt, even though she knew it was a lame attempt because he already knew.Theirs was a relationship of ironies, paradoxes and contradictions. It went beyond love and was nurtured in silences. Silence bound them together, since neither would speak while the other could listen. It was only in corners of a heavy heart that such feelings found utterance. Pain and love go hand in hand, destined to be apart and forever to be enveloped in mists of tragedy; this is what she truly believed. She wanted him to go away forever, from her memories, her tears and from that emptiness she felt when she tried to sleep each night. She had finally expressed her love for him but with an act of betrayal so pure that only love could match it. With each harsh word that she had spoken, it was love that was expressed. A wounded dear's helplessness in its inability to live life, a woman's tears reflecting her own helplessness to love, freely and fearlessly. What made it all the more unbearable was the knowledge that he wasn't fooled, in fact couldn't be fooled. She had to forget him for the sake of her sanity, pluck him apart as coldly as humanly possible. Burn every memory doused with his love. Refute those advances of long past moments draped in illusions and possibilities. She often thought of moments spent together, with loving glances and unsaid words. He had awakened the woman in her and for the first time in her life, she had felt alive. She could feel love and happiness pulsate silently, forcefully in her veins, strengthening her heart, melting the icy contours that had always surrounded it in fear of getting hurt. But she had hurt him, intentionally with the clear purpose of an assassin who knows its mark and feels no remorse for its actions. She had finally killed the love inside him or so she desperately tried to believe.
She walked on, haltingly, chewing her lower lip, occasionally biting her nails, an act of intimacy he shared with her. In the looming shadows of the wet streets, a neon light shone brightly, almost in an obscene way, challenging the very stillness of the street. She looked up and saw TATA SONS written brightly, the light behind SONS was dim and TATA stood out majestically. Only if Birla was written next to it, wouldn't it complete the beauty of their goodbyes? It was a private ritual of sorts, cryptic to the world around them but a purity which made sense only to them. They shared quirks as motifs of passion, dissolving beautifully into their words and gestures, almost like a private language of love too intimate too be understood by the world. Her limbs ached as she walked on but she welcomed such aches, she liked to believe that she was being punished and her sins were being atoned. The worse ache was the one she felt in her heart, a song of lament, whenever she heard his name. He was hers and even his very name uttered by someone else was sacrilege. Each night brought back heady memories of past and a curious emotion welled up inside her. It was an amalgam of pain and love, an unfulfilled orgasmic tragedy that failed to find utterance each time it sought to. She had hidden secrets from him, letting him live in his castles of illusions but she did not know that he knew about her past as well as he knew about her future. He saw through her completely, those large dear-like eyes filled with sadness and sorrow. He knew, she never wanted to believe it but he did know everything about her. Such was his love, it took in everything, patiently and gently, almost like her father who was her pillar of strength. He too was special but she had to do what she did, she had to let him go, she had to make him let go of her. There was nothing noble about her love. Such was the illusions she made up to sustain her sanity.This was her love, pure cowardice fused with betrayal, projected as grandeur of surrender and sacrifice, something she had never truly understood.
As she walked back home, her bed of sorrows awaiting her, she realized that loneliness is a faithful companion.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Chronicle Of A Betrayal Foretold

Every now and then,
Once in a black moon
Comes across a girl
Who makes your heart swoon.
Then you fall in love
And the usual croons
Of love and longing
Of desires and passions
Haunting shades
Murmurs in darkness
Taps on fingers
Gentle, often.
Then she leaves
With silence
Leaving lingering pain
Without remorse
Or even a thought.
She forgets instantly
And moves on
Like a parasite
To feed upon
New Lovers.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Jesting in Peace

In nakedness and pride
In death and life
Lies a queer balance
Refusing permission
To end breaths
Refuting my love
To slit a wrist
And move on
With moments
Less mundane.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Saviours Of A Lost World

We are coming to save you
On foot or on beast
Perhaps in shambles
In battered spirits
Halfheartedly for sure
Whining about left behind
Wine and baked morsels.
A cozy bed and  a barmaid
Is all that we want.
But sullenly we are coming
My dearest
To take you away
From them.

Mispronounced With Delight

Let me dissolve as a fading memory
     of your past.
A note of sodomizing music worthy
      but of rape.
A ruptured vessel of a now dying heart
      infinitesimally so.
Remembered only as a shadow behind
       those teary eyes.
A hope so bleak that even bleakness
        makes sense.
Blending a new emotion which thrives
        on idiosyncrasies.
And breathing from a hollow soul
        an angry realization.
Of a past skewed with spurts of
         rage championed.
But beauty has accompanied me
         too often.
In moments of uncertain designs
         and vagaries.
So i know with proud conviction
          of finality.
A hint of caution to my own self
           about edges.
Would complete the equation
           of moments.
A word or two about vagueness
            is important
For ways of these moments also
            betray often.
And thereby give a solemn birth
             to contradictions.
Then should I try to escape the
              innate chasm?
Or channel a force bought to life
               by silent legacies?
The beauty of destined rise and fall
               lies in concealment.
It's sanctity cannot be challenged by
                your morality.
For to love is to fight and conquer
                 not sacrifice.
Since sacrifice of the purest form
                 is war itself.
Not a veil of convenient cowardice
I know worth of life is realized by
                  chosen few.
The premise of my sympathy is but
And each word uttered without passion
                   is nullity.
Certain digressions are permitted with
But nevertheless accepted as tenets of
                    human condition.
Let me devote that each moment of life
                     to exist.
Beautifully as a cosmic continuity and not
                     as an aberration.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

With A Whimper

Those shady bars have for long whispered sweet nothings to my hollow mind
Beckoning like a mistress who knows you well enough to be your mother
And for long I've evaded the question that my friend Thomas had asked,
But the bitch in my memory refuses to die.
The best in me is no longer fit for your consumption and
The worst that I carry rots healthily by the dilapidated sill by your side.
The tragedy that will now unravel like an artsy film is very personal
The fall ,if there was a rise, of a young mind now seems to be in vogue
For mediocrity too has to thrive in this hobgoblin of a world.
Where eunuchs make true love, shimmering with emotion
And men whimper with impotent eyes
Watching the world suck their virility with casual ease,
And worship sexless bodies who like to tease.
Its not for your shocked eyes that I write
But for the bitch in my memory who refuses to die.
To fight the impossible is not my aim
But to sit in the corner and then proclaim in vain,
"My dear sirs, would you like to do me too?"
And then those gentle hands adept at hiding filth
Will descend on me and again with casual ease
Beautifully take the worst out of me.
Be not be mistaken that it is anger my muse
But my friend Thomas who taught me to use
Words and more words to suppress true intent
And mock this idea of a world with clownish ruse.
I always bluff my way into another life
But the bitch in my memory refuses to die.
Under the bedsheets my world lies
Where naked swarms of dreaming delights
Hides carefully the shoddy reality of life
A world where emotional holocausts
Are meted out by one and all
Again my dear sirs with casual ease!
This casual ease is what I have begun to hate
And the good lord cites it as rightfully chaste.
I fear it may bring the end of me
For women come and go with men pinned up to their breasts
Singing sonnets with drunken sniggers
The most delightful whores love could buy
If you thought I'll mince words each time
Then my sirs and lovers
To break the third wall is no crime
My friends, long dead, taught me so
And till the last of my breaths it shall be forever so
Forever and ever till Nightingales shall sing
Men will be condemned for they believed in the gospel of Howl,
For my bitch that refuses to die
I've a message, my darling chocolate pie
Till the memory of you shall remain
My dead friends shall always keep me insane.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

A is A

I am the abundance of a copper mine
Lost in Peruvian history
I am the Promethean flame
Destined to burn forever
The metal that has refused
To corrode and comply
Refused just not your love
But your very existence
I am the ragged railroad
Unwilling to submit,
To give in or to deny
My right to live
As an equal among men
Of vision and courage.
I am the philosophy
Of brute force
And reason
Coupled by words
Uttered by a father
To his own child
Knowing not
The kneads of future
But believing
With cold searing conviction
Of a lover's desire
For his love
In the ability
To conquer doubt
And gently
Bridge destiny
Without hesitation
Without fear or
Any of its malice.
It is this that
I have sought
With a child's want
Of its mother
And found it
Carefully and beautifully
Preserved within
My own self.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Born Of A Whisper

Convulsions and spasms,
A moment of death
Pain's purest pleasure
The parting of Red Sea
Agonizing breaths
A return to the primal
Of an animal's instinct
With an unknown innocence
To be brutally torn
Reclaimed by a will
Knowing no passions
Purposeful and cold
Molded by points of desire
Joy was never so terrifying.

Sunday, October 17, 2010


Among the contradictions that bind your soul,
The moral premises that question your hold
The thoughts that plunge you in deepest oceans
And the dreams that soar above the highest mountains.
I know i stand alone with my gift of existence,
With history's heroes guiding my way
Upon a silken path of sun's taut rays
I know it now as i had i known it before.
I know it now as i had never known before.

The contradictions are forever mine to battle,
And the limitless rewards mine to savor
The cryptic Purpose is mine to decipher
And mine alone to be brutally conquered.
The words of our past are tools to break free
Weapons, if I may, of battles yet to be decreed
Destinies and Equality are superlatives that are fed
And free thyself from such memories that are dead.
I know it now as i had never known before.

The cliffs of Pride and Honor that i choose to stand upon,
Are not yet in vision of the the zenith to be won
The peaks of joy and ecstasy are never bound
In hearts of those where contempt and misery is to be found.
Hollow and infinite needs of purposeless sanctions,
I have erred in days of past where spiritless passions
Found there way inside my raw heart
And shrouded under the cloak of ignorance
I surrendered all my worthy self deference.
I know it now as i had never known before.

Is it a divine epiphany that untangled my soul?,
Or was it willed by a hand that has loosened its hold?
The answers are not worthy of a new life's moment
For the stricken blow that awakened me came late.
But i have fooled and tricked myself in the past
Believing this gratuitous chimeric reality will perhaps last
The trick, if there is one, will not be spared
The word of Nietzsche will successfully ensnare.
And i know it now as i had never known this before.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Etching Away...

What is Love's Sacrifice but the Broken Heart?
                                                                      Richard Crashaw

To die in a distant land among strange wilderness
Among heartless friends and hollow lovers
And let go of these shallow, timeless breaths
Crumple the last beat that echoes in harsh waters
Incinerate those lifeless limbs
For salvation is the key
To angry bouts of shrieking misery
Hope cannot be restored
In a soul lulled by betrayal and foolishness.

It must give you resting peace and incalculable joy
To see your lover rotting away for eternity
A lover who revered poetry, Genesis and Fall of Troy!
Thy delusional hearts still goes mad, weeps for no end
Refusal in acceptance of your enchanting knavery
But this agony will last not long
For i will etch away the clock of desire
And let nothingness breed in maternal vacuum
Till a strange light illuminates thy being
And immerses it in an eternal shadow.

Sunday, September 26, 2010


There are two types of tragedies in life. One is not getting what you want, the other is getting it.

Saturday, September 25, 2010


"Does it not give birth to consequence when you draw in thin lines of white dust or do you find it akin to sanctuary where you can shy away from forgiveness of those willing women in the arms of whom you lied. Everything you touch withers and dies, now she has gone and finally it is you who is withering away, my friend. Janus would have been proud. The sheer pleasure of watching monuments melt, of watching you survive on shady whiskeys and white lines is priceless, who needs reason when you are living a Dionysian dream, who needs reason when you have enough grams to last you a month, who needs reason when the mighty have been slain and their heart's broken. The royal heartache returns, of fleeting memories, moonlit nights and delusional reverie, of days passed away in drunken stupor, do the women visit you in your dreams too or is it just the nights. Did the spells of Cupid finally made way thee or t'was a journey of Bedlam and Bedouins, tell me, does she visit your squandered mind while you consume liquid atrophy. Tell me, TELL ME, i want to seep in the pleasures of your disgrace, of countless betrayals made and countless promises surrendered!!
You are blinded by inconsolable rage that you don't care who you hurt or does the rage try to silence the screams in your head...the birth of a new civilization where men will be born with tantalizing screams and voices inside their head, soft, melodious voices, the same voice a once-upon-a-time-prince used to woo and lure women inside his lust smitten chambers. The once-upon-a-time-prince....finally fallen because of one woman..........why?"

"Because once you have tasted her, its all that you want to have", i replied calmly.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Baby O

It is not everyday that you get to talk to him, not everyday that you call upon someone whom you haven't met in years and he actually obliges. Miracles in the land of the heartless. He was neither surprised nor happy to see me, just indifferent and unfazed. Not a day had passed since he had wished me and her dead, rightfully so too. We had betrayed him at the pinnacle of our love but that is another tale altogether. He had changed a bit, he looked more handsome than the last time i had seen him, more composed and calm, a fresh drop of dew on a wintry morning. "Thanks for coming, I.......", and then unsure of what to say, i stopped. He looked at me with a look of contemptuous pity and sat down comfortably. His fiery eyes bore into mine and he said in his sneer of a tone, "Do you mind?" I looked at at the Dunhill between his rose tinted lips and wondered why had he started smoking. Without waiting for me to reply he lit and drew a long puff which he let it rest before twirling out a hazy cloud of gray white vapor, disturbing the lazing stillness of the place. "There is a certain poetry in committing a crime after you have served your sentence", he said rather spiritedly, a line whose full essence i would grasp only later on. "You look like a zombie, a very dead zombie in fact."

"Zombies are already dead",i muttered.He smiled and continued,"Cynicism from a rebelling idealist, my my, the world is already changing. Here, have a puff, smoke away your troubles." I took it from his hand, exhaled deeply and put it on my virgin lips, my hands trembled ever so lightly as i drew in the acrid taste. I coughed, he laughed. I tried again, this time more slowly, inhaling the nicotine, letting it slowly explore the innards of my body, ruminating about its presence within myself. After what seemed like an eternity i exhaled although only a moment had passed. I could feel the burning at the back of my throat and my mouth felt bitter but i continued smoking. I was surprised when it finished so early, i had hoped at a longer rendezvous but like Under Officer Ali Shigri once told me,"You ask for freedom and they give you Chicken Korma".

I gazed at the distant waves, warring against the indomitable coastline of the City of Dreams. "You remember the time when we went to Ranikhet, it was the best time i ever had in my entire life. I loved both of you in ways i can't explain. You and her were my best kept secrets, no one knew about your existence, no one knew i could afford to fight against all odds because i had my kingdom beside me.", i stopped, troubled by the lump in my throat, the sign of my weakness, when emotion swells within my heart and words choke me. A single tear rested upon my eye, unsure whether to declare its presence to the man within the room or quietly hide away, as countless of his brothers had before him. The coward chose latter. "I called you today because your wish has been fulfilled, she has left me forever and i have finally fallen. I seek neither your forgiveness nor your sympathy and i cannot disrespect you further by asking for atonement but do me a last bit of favor, watch over her in this big, bad world of ours."

He stood up and walked towards me, placing his long slender arm over my shoulder he said silently."I came here not because i wanted an apology or for that matter a soliloquy of sorts". I gave him a watery smile. He smiled back and continued," I came here so i could relieve you of your pain. Neither has she left you forever nor have you fallen, things are a bit bleak but I'll sort them out. I'll make the pain go away, the horrible,terrible pain that seeps you from within, i know how it feels, you know i do." He looked me within my eyes and i stared back in the dark pools of black, noticing his lashes tremble. I buried my face within his shoulder and began sobbing, silent shuddering sobs. He held me close and i could feel his warm breath on my earlobe. "Shhh, everything will be fine, my friend, everything will be just fine....." 

                    "Girte hain shehsawar hi maidaan-e-jung mein
                    Woh tifl kya girenge jo ghutno ke bal chale...."

I looked up, both sobbing and smiling, sobbing remembering my betrayal and smiling because i felt faint stirrings of hope in beating heart, faint but actual stirrings. I wanted him to stay there, close to him, my head on his shoulder, my arms round him, his warm breath lulling me to sleep. I wanted time to stop and gaze at us.I have never believed in God and never thought i could but at that moment nothing but divinity oozed out from my soul. He had forgiven me and nothing but the Hand of God could have changed his mind.

"Come on now, sit down. I'll go get a glass of water." He came back a minute later with a glass of water and a small packet. He handed me the glass and began to slowly open the packet, carefully and neatly. White powder. I remembered the first i had done it, it was surreal., electricity and numbness, chaos and serenity, anger and calm, all had fused together to create the much needed psychic synchronicity. But then i had stopped, neither by choice nor by chance, it had been because of a promise, whose ethos were as old as time itself : Love. "I don't do that anymore", i said a bit too aggressively, instantly betraying my vulnerability. He looked up and smiled and in an enchantingly melodious tone captivated me completely. With my head on his shoulder again and sweet temptation being whispered in my ear, i surrendered. In a second, promises were forsaken, the past forgotten, sweet innocence betrayed and tears swallowed. I was his to be and if he wanted me to take in the sinned white powder, the modern age forbidden fruit; the Devil's Ambrosia, then i would take it.

Three snorts of four inches of this stuff can make you God. So three snorts and one hour later i was God. I could perform miracles now, turn men to dust, raise the dead, light up the skies, turn the moon into a giant disco ball and dance till the saints come marching. It felt good, real good, after months of depression and exhaustion, it was a spiritual relief to laugh with gay abandon with my once-upon-a-time best-friend. Another smoke lit, another snort taken, a telepathic decision to play Lady Gaga was taken. We started to dance, a passive onlooker would have described it as erotic, i would describe it as pseudo erotic after deliberate observation. Seven songs later two sweaty,young men fell on the soft velvety couch and drifted off to sleep, arms entangled, breaths mingled and heaven perfected.

I woke up suddenly when i heard a loud groan, i opened my groggy eyes and was aghast to see him lying on the floor and his mouth bloodied and foamed. "What the hell happened? I am calling an ambulance right.......", i stopped midway as i saw him beckoning me closer. "I am here buddy, just relax, everything will be all right.." He mustered some energy and plonked himself upon me,"Just listen carefully and don't interrupt no matter what, i don't have much time." Gauging the seriousness of his tone,i sat still and motioned him to continue,"I am dying and this is my final blow.Before taking what i took while you were sleeping,i called up the police and told them you were trying to poison me." "What are you saying, let me call the doctor, everything will be fine.." "I don't need the doctor, i need revenge and when my body falls limp your destiny will forever crumple. I loved her more than anything in this world and you took her away. I loved her, i really did and you knew it. You took her away from me and now you will pay. Know that every.....", he started violently coughing blood and with a final spasm of agony he lay dead on my lap.

By the time i  stood up and surveyed the brutal scene before me - Powder on the table, my torso bloodied by the blood of hatred and his limp yet taut body, serene in its moment of eternal satisfaction - i could already hear the wail of damning sirens.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Et tu, Brute?

When you are falling in an abyss of self loathing, the darkest epiphanies crawl beside you wreaking havoc upon everything you have created. Betrayed and thwarted by the world at large, you struggle to breathe,  simultaneously marveling at your own foolishness to fall in the same trap you created. Your past is negated by your present and what remains is an ashen future, obscure and meaningless. That slit upon your wrist seems a genuine way out of this pandemonium but bonds of suffering are never so easy to break. The darkest hour is no longer a fantasy but a surreal reality, painful and torturous, the masochist in me is quite proud, the human feels quite aborted though. I was not always like this though. I reveled in the reverie called life, i worshiped joy and happiness and sought it eagerly, hungrily waiting for moments that would inexorably lead to several infused smiles within my heart. Clearly all that is no more, annihilated by forces i failed to foresee, i was subjected to wave upon wave of pure unrelenting pain in mere moments. I had sought to bridge destinies but my own destiny is now hazy, shards of glass and broken,multiple distorted images.I should have known better, Fallen roses are seldom picked up. Several times i have stood against odds unfathomable to most men and i have survived, but odds against life are no longer what i battle but rather the inner, parasitic hollowness of mine. I mayn't have fallen so hard had it not been for the the fact that i trusted too much while journeying through the jungles of my personal nadir. The reasons of my fall are both inanimate and animate, and it is this animate which makes atonement all the more arduous. I may have been called a number of things but not foolish, now i seem to have lost that remaining chunk of respect too. I am now officially foolish. Go on, dear world, make the most of it, devour me completely; while i am still down.

Thursday, July 1, 2010


Today i'll make my confessions
And possibly break your heart,
I'll try to be gentle
But it will be a difficult start.
When i said i loved you the most
I perhaps may have lied a bit
My heart never really cared for you
Just an act in another romantic skit.
I have loved someone the most
But i confess its not you,
You lost to her by a whisker
And i swear its literally true.

All your befuddling charms fail
When she purrs with delight.
Divine as the Holiest of Grails,
Her feline form defies laws of flight
Where nonchalance moulds
Subtle brevity in her soul.
Now tell me in all its honesty
Could i ever love you thee
When such feline femininity
Charmed my adolescent glee?
As i bury my face in her soft belly
I begin to feel delightfully woozy
Her soft fur enervates my doubts
And i think i may name her Susie.

You are the finest girl i know
And your hair always smells nice
But my love for her is so great
I care not even if she eats mice.
You broke the world's laws
To hold my hand in dreamy nights
But can you ever like a cat
Land on your four paws?
You may find it strange
That i love a cat more than you
But i can solemnly swear
That this is perfectly true!

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

I don't need to explain my love
Nor ever mouth my loss,
For i know you know too
The beats that carry my heart.
Why must we ever be apart
Over doubts and conceits? 
I yearn for one syllable,
Of your lost voice,
Plunge in distant memories
Retrieve those primordial moments
Now gathered in misty mazes
And hazed histories.

Each moment of mine suffers
Under unlikely impressions
Of your departed presence.
I question the lamenting past
To retrieve the passages
Of glorious,sunlit yesterdays.
You own the coming future,
Own the might to make it right.
Weak are those who break bonds
Over pebbles of a hungry stream.
Come back and linger with me
Till the die is cast and breaths last.

Meandering Me

Sunday, June 27, 2010


In revolving doors
Of distant nights
I saw her twice.
Two moments
Or perhaps three,
Quite like no other,
Took my breath away,
As blood rushed
So did i
To steal another glance.

Cruel fate.
She disappeared
In ancillary crowds.
I searched,
Ineffectual life led since
Those two moments
Or perhaps three.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Hymn 1.22

Ragged dolls speak no more of redemption
Nor of love
That left its mark, etched on the soul
For eternities while shadows heave
Upon my closed eyes
That eternal silence of yours tears me apart
And closed chambers locked within buried grounds
Carry within them the arc of nebulae
Serpentine glances mean nothing
And also not the riches i possess
Flames sputter as i dissolve in your
World of nothingness.

Wrote this one years back on a back of an envelope, posting it now because a friend unearthed it recently.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Sun Dogs

Arduous are paths of rivers that have no names
Long are some journeys and Tigers can't be tamed
Some bridges can't be bridged for such is the will of law
Yours and mine
Mine and yours
Are some such treacherous tales.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Est queadam fiere voluptas (There is a certain pleasure in weeping.)

The first thing he noticed about her was her hair.She had her hair cut in layers with razored edges and sported long fringe bangs that she kept partially swept to the side and out of her eyes. She seemed to enjoy the purposefully styled messy look, which accentuated her kohl lit eyes.Her face was impassively beautiful,reminding him of frigid lakes he had seen when he was in St Petersburg,where a thin,almost invisible sheet of icy layer stopped every and any ripple that dared its presence.He was magnetically drawn towards the nape of her neck where a single mole rested languidly,oblivious of the effect that it was causing on a stranger's heart- his heart,a matter of fact.Slowly he averted his gaze,finished his single malt and casually walked over to the bar to order another,forcing himself not to turn back to gaze at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
 This is love,he thought,this is what it feels like.The maddening pace of his heart,bursting with euphoria of life itself,the cold sweat slowly trickling towards the back of his neck and the way his eyes had begun to sparkle.He felt strangely alive and had an inexplicable desire to laugh out aloud.For the first time in life he actually wanted to live with gay abandon and break all rules.Suddenly he understood why people took risks,why boys drove fast cars and girls broke rules,it was the majestic and grand feeling of being reckless-he was recklessly now in love with a woman whose name he did not know yet.

As shadows danced,the evening began to quickly pass.He thought several times of going up to her and talk but he couldn't muster the courage.It was simply impossible for him to go up to her say something and equally difficult to stand there and do nothing.All his entire life he never had any hesitation talking to anyone,he had charmed Councilors,smooth talked his way out of everything and even courted impossible women but today his tongue was dry and his palms sweaty.He was probably nervous for the first time in his life and it actually felt weird.He went over to the bar and ordered another Scotch.As the bartender poured a shot over two hazy cubes, he suddenly stiffened as he saw her standing right next to him.A faint scent of cedar and leather wafted towards him and he instantly recognized it as Anais Anais,a rare delightful fragrance, after all women fragrances were nothing new to him.He slowly turned his head as she walked away,hoping to steal another long amorous glance when he suddenly felt someone tugging at his leg,

"Daddy,mommy is looking everywhere for you",said Nysa tersely,his seven year daughter.

He affectionately picked her up and gave her a loving peck on her forehead.Then he set her down,let her wrap her small tender hand around his finger and lead him back to her mother,back to his wife and back to his loveless marriage of nine long years.He longed to look back and gaze solemnly at the woman with whom he had fallen in love with but he continued walking with a heavy heart under the leaden sky.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Ab incunabulis

Thwarted by forces i do not see
I lie in chambers of earthen glee
Buried under fortresses of melting snow
I metamorphose in a demonic glow
Planets move in decreed planes
Grieve and lament the familiar Manes
Mendacity envelops virtuous all
And sinners fornicate in evening Balls
In every shattered hope i see
The last of tear filled seas
For Darkness took form of deity Light
Began its conquest of control and might
Villainy has now a new name
And with it
Lie the rules of the game.

Now let me come back to me
Take you away to the Arctic Seas
A place where it all began
Gods,Warriors,Man and Clan
This is the place where it will all end
Conceptual universes finally rend
I slowly feel alive and virile
Know not whether by craft or guile
As fused blood hastens to my loins
Triple Goddesses utter their final scream
Thy daughter erupts from splintered wombs
As sukra and blood penetrate my tomb
The Bethelean beast is now complete
For both Darkness and Virtue
Shall together taste defeat.

Eons of lifetimes now lay scattered
The mightiest fall slain and battered
Music plays beneath a drunken shore
Georgian lutes and goddess whores
My daughter and I walk upon red sands
Towards dried seas and sooty lands
For we are the ones whom prophecies failed
The universe never mattered,our visions hailed
Now we walk alone on broken twigs
Bathe in springs and consume figs
Sparkling brightly the sun too fears
Lest Father and Daughter doth come near
For I am he for whom the dead world cried
And by my side sleeps my Daughter Bride.
My dark seed rests in her virgin womb
The one that begot her in my dusty tomb
And my prodigal son shall breathe soon
I shall now smile while universes swoon.

Monday, May 3, 2010

Fallen Roses

She was often unsure of what she was doing but this time,she was absolutely clueless.Her family would never allow such a match.It was true that he was intelligent and a good man but even if was the most eligible bachelor in the entire world,they still wouldn't let her marry him.He was,bluntly put,not of their caste.Why was she still clinging on to him?Why could she not bring herself to leave him forever and move on?Is this Love,she thought despairingly and if it was why did it have to be so painful .Why was everything so difficult in life?

He would understand if she left him.He always did.His large black eyes were deep like the ocean and they took everything within.When she raged at him or cried upon his shoulder,his comforting eyes looked into hers and made her warm.Warm with joy,with comfort and with hope.He was always there for her,like a silent rock who had pledged his life to the raging seas,he always stood by her no matter what she said or did.His silent devotion made her cringe.He knew she could never go against her family but still he was there,by her side,comforting and smiling.He was a good man and deserved better,she thought.She tried to fight with him numerous times,trying to distance herself so he wouldn't feel any pain but he was no fool.He always knew her intentions,he knew her bickering was symptomatic of her frustrations;he simply knew everything.He knew her completely.Both of them were hopelessly in love.Both knew the outcome of their doomed existence but both lived and continued to love.They had reached a stoic understanding of their fate.Their love had transcended marriage and society.Both could lead separate lives,marry someone else,have children and still could go on loving each other till their last breath.

But it always hurt her,she could never reach that spiritual and philosophical plane that he had achieved.She could never imagine life without him.His laugh,his smile,his soft gentle hands,the way he looked in her eyes,his soft,comforting voice and the way he made her feel;like a princess,like only she existed in the world and nothing else.When they were together the world melted in shadows and memories while nothing else mattered.Those moments defined life itself,everything else was a painful blurred memory.She felt alive when she was with him,life began to have a reason of being,she wanted in those moments to live,to breathe and to smile.He changed everything,her mind,her emotions and even her identity.She became someone else,much different from what she had been bought up to be.Her face softened,her voice had vitality and even her stride changed.She felt exuberant to the point of lunacy.He empowered her.He made her complete.

She wanted to die.She wanted to slit her wrists and leave this world forever,a world which refused possibilities of love,a world which was indifferent to her existence.But she never did anything beyond contemplating it in moments of lament,for she knew he would destroy himself.Not merely kill himself but destroy his very life.She would die and leave the world,he would live and die everyday.She lived for him ignorant of the fact that he had precisely the same reasons for living life.Both lived.Both suffered.Each day passed,the sun rose and set,each day she she woke up and wept.He had no answers for she asked no questions.She had been raised by her family,they had fed her,loved her;she couldn't just betray them because her heart belonged to someone else.They owned her life while he owned her heart.Life had no easy answers.She could not risk her parent's shame.She chose them.

Her wedding was a lavish affair.Relatives from far and away were called.Sweets were stuffed in their mouths,pictures clicked,blessings obliged.The bride sat on the mock throne on the stage with her to-be husband.Aunts commented how fair she looked,a detailed observation would have revealed a pale complexion and deathly demeanor.She had stopped thinking;not today but some months earlier when she had conceded to her parent's choice,a well groomed-educated boy of a traditional business family.Her mother had commented that her duty was over and she could now die peacefully while her father had smiled at the poetic exaggerations of his wife.The daughter had not been consulted about her feelings.Assumptions were the order of the day.As she sat frailly on the pseudo-majestic throne,she remembered the day when she had broke him the news of her marriage.He was impassive,he was quiet,he was shattered.Within his mind he always knew that this day would eventually come but the actual finality of the moment paralyzed him.His heart began to painfully coil as she spoke those words,those final words of parting and tender pain.He held her close,whispered words in her ear,looked deeply within those now-wet eyes and walked away.

The auspicious moment as decided by the chuckling,pot-bellied pundit drew closer.Finally it was time and the two walked towards the holy fire that would unite them forever.She walked,matching her partner's stride,numb with realization of the finality.Formless shapes appeared before her eyes and she began her part of the holy rites,dutifully observing each action as she was told.They say your whole life flashes before your very eyes when you die.She was not dying,simply getting married but He flashed before her eyes.His soft caresses,his husky voice,his enveloping frame,all came back to her as she began to encircle the holy fire with a man she barely knew.Each step erased her previous identity,she was no longer a girl,but a woman whose life would now revolve around her husband and unknown spheres of domesticity,not around Him.When all the rites were over and her forehead glistened with perspiration and vermilion,she allowed herself a single tear.No loud wailing and torrent of tears as custom demanded from a newly wed bride but a single tear.It was the final gesture of her love for Him.She walked into the fading night with her husband rightfully clutching her right hand.She glided into a new world,her mind erased of the past and her heart hollow of all emotion for she knew He had left her world forever.

She was wrong.They were destined to meet years later.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Silent Betrayal

I smiled often so you could smile
I hid my tears so you wouldn't cry
I gave you my hand when times were tough
I did everything when things were rough
I wiped your tears and wept for your grief
I held your hand to make you understand
I believed in god so i could pray for you
I slept in sand whilst i dreamt of heaven for you
I punished myself for your sins
I helped you always when i could
I thought of you when i smiled
I cared for your happiness
I cared for your joy
I forgot everything when i heard your voice
I made up stories to amuse you
I hoped i would never lose you
I gave up everything when you asked
I would sell myself to buy you a laugh


You cheated whilst i trusted
You laughed when i cried
You will smile if i die
You forgot me after you passed your time
You lost me when you broke my trust
You broke my soul and lost yours too
You robbed a man who would have given it all up
You made fun behind my back
You laughed with spite and became cruel
You faked affection in your hatred
You gave me up for your own ends
You thought me as an ignorant fool
You brought ruin upon a gentle soul
You sinned when you stabbed my back
You have no heart to love
You have no soul to pray
You are cold and you know it too
You think your god will ever forgive you?

Saturday, April 24, 2010


We all are actually dead.You and i especially.We have lost the ability to create new thoughts,to give birth to genuine ideas,of thoughts which have never been thought before.All we do is to recycle and reuse thoughts that are being passed to us from existing and dominant nodes of power.Where is our Revolution?In our books,in art house cinema or some dingy old corner of a shoddy pub where speech is ALWAYS predominant to action??Where is your CAUSE?The will to live,the reason to breathe and the melodies of our heartbeats;all are just vague,dull,repetitive entities.I cannot even develop a referential point for a non conformist argument because everything is corrupted.I feel existentially oppressed.The oppressor is a chimera,the revolutionary must become a chimera too in order to overcome oppression.

The CAUSE should be paramount.The very top of the holy pyramid.Its existence is eternal,humans and their actions become both meaningless and meaningful,both descriptions adhering to different frameworks,the particular vs the universal.

As Che said: It is not a matter of wishing success to the victim of aggression,but of sharing his fate.

The revolutionary must live for the cause,burn to illuminate,fizzle to ignite.My cause lies within the very layers of my existence.Its spark,as i understand,is bright.I dream of it very day.It makes everything else insignificant;family,life,success,love and especially myself.I don't have any desire to define myself within conventional parameters of success and failure.I lost the wish when i gained the Cause.It enlightened me,within rudiments of human extensions,gave me a purpose which only i can see.I risk being called mad and unreasonable by the world,even cold and deviant;yes it is true but only within the rules of your world.The rules of my world are different.I adhere only to them.

The mind is the the Source.From here stems all that we know of.It is also the purest paradox.It feeds you illusions but in the garb of knowledge.Revolution takes place when you identify the paradox,Enlightenment when you understand it and Self Destruction when you decipher it.I talk of Revolution only because it is the first step.The first step to salvation.It lies outside the bubble of civilization.A place where the mind is not bound by laws,human or cosmic and death is as alluring as life itself.But my words are hieroglyphics for those who do not understand neither the Cause nor the Revolution but then i am not writing for the many germs of the world.I write for a select few gems.

I have often heard:Long Live The Revolution.Why,if i may ask,should the Revolution live long?I do not want it to be stagnant.It should end itself to give rise to a new Revolution.
Glorious and eternal.
The beauty of every Cause is that it exists.It exists for itself not for the world and that is how should ideally every human should exist.Each human a Cause,each human a Revolution.

“Those who hate most fervently must have once loved deeply; those who want to deny the world must have once embraced what they now set on fire."

Monday, April 12, 2010

May the length of my existence
be as short as her faithlessness.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010


Of all flowers that bloom
all wilt and wither
what remains is a memory
of days and rains
what has ended
will return
but in due time
perhaps not soon
and not even in time
to save you
but it shall return

Dancing in the dark
romancing moonlight
is fleeting joy
soon to turn mundane
and commonplace.
must you ever be happy?
or even sad?
when you can play
with chaos

Love what you destroy
sometimes even
destroy what you love
for in uncertainties
no patterns of existence
is life lived
play with yourself
and others too
till you lose everything
become a crumpled paper.

Slip often
to burn painfully
in the fire
of unwanted existence
till you become a memory
slowly fading away
lost in rumors
and speculations.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Hieroglyphic self

I am a broken sound,the equivalent of a muffled infant who suffocates to death all the while exhorting its mind and body for one moment of sonorous pleasure.The incomplete abyss of nothingness,hollow beyond measure,like vapors of smoke that dissolve into space and time,fading away in nocturnal bliss dimly aware of the world outside but thriving like a parasite on its pulsating self,waiting,perhaps for Godot or was it Todog?,into the unreal world of dissolving identities and makeshift masks,melting in moments,to reveal more masks until one day,there would be nothing left to reveal and thy imagination would wither like a worm on an Australian beach,forever shunning the epitome of existence and its few friends;never to look into a mirror for the fear,the heart wrenching fear of finally seeing the self but knowing that both the fear and the self are yet again masks,albeit much more sublime than their predecessors for they have now evolved like man and his coherent cognitive senses,yet again knowing that illusion again is but reality,only simplified for convenience and like smoke,it too,shall fade away leaving behind nothing but an acrid taste of truth,only to deconstruct the constructs and their intertwined fallacies.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Cherry Trees and A Man Apart

"I want
To do with you what spring does with the cherry trees."

Thus spake Neruda,transgressing boundaries of love and passion,fusing subtly the erotic with the sublime.It is impossible to appreciate his poetry without discerning the intrinsic historicity of his words.The quiet treatment of language devoid of opulence of words but magnetically coupled with a searing passion of a man who has no identity is overwhelming to say the very least.He wanders,symbolically and literally,from one piece of land to another,bound by his duty to his nation and to exorcise his own troubled passions.The voice of the poet merges with his people,humanity at large,and what transfuses is genius of simplicity.He is obtuse at times,dense beyond comprehension but mostly he pains himself to be lucid,for he is weighed down by his poetic conscience and understands his gift of verse as a homage to the entire world.What really makes him so endearing is his innate capacity to bring forward the most violent of emotions in a simple line or two.His craft lies in understanding the pulse of the common man and developing an emotive idea beyond its usual understanding.

I admire Neruda not because i enjoy his poetry but because it has the capacity to arouse redundant feelings in me,a task i genuinely felt was impossible.His words remind me of sunshine and vast grasslands,moonlit nights and cool breeze;of everything that still remains wonderful,uncorrupted by claws of men.It is true that everyone can understand him,from a child to philosopher but each will have a different scale of understanding.What i have learned from him is the art of simplicity.Though Parker too is simple but she is an altogether different story,while she is arrogant and proud,Neruda is simple and gentle.He brings warmth to his words and his poetic expression reaches a new level of compassion.I read Neruda and saw new colours.He is a good human being and that reflects in what he writes.I,perhaps,misjudged him to be a man of simple ideas,i was wrong.Neruda is man of complex ideas and simple words and that is mark of a true genius.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

The Land Of Opiate Lions

I walked slowly,haltingly,each step an impossibility of action,of thought.The road was an amalgam of loose soil,blown fleetingly from Kotal-e Salang,and asphalt,a trickling example of modernity in civil engineering.The air was dry and barren,much like the state of affairs of its nation.I felt tired and defeated but primarily disgusted at my own impotency to change anything.War evokes this feeling in the most deadened of hearts,but this was not war,i mused,it was a bloody extermination;of men,of tradition,of culture and the world had turned a blind eye to it.I walked on,each step a symbol of my personal Waterloo.What was it that i had thought that i could change in this fate less nation where death enveloped men not with a quiet dignity but with a hound's blood lust?I was ordinary and the world did not respond to the ordinary;it responded to men of power,but men in power wanted wars and tumbling economies so that they may build their own empires of wealth.Money which came from thriving opium business and the global arms race.What could i do in this world which was governed by laws i could not understand?

Kabul was feverish;with disease,hunger,deaths and grief.Men looked on with hollow eyes at the debris of their spiritual essence,of their homeland which has served as a foster battleground for the mighty of the world.Afghanistan's beauty lies neither in the sheer magnificence of its virgin land and nor in the towering Hindu Kush mountains which serve as its pseudo guardians;it lies in its resilience,its solitude and the indomitable spirit of its people.There have been days when i have cried like a child looking at shards of humanity in this god forsaken land ;where men risk everything for one another,where each day is a battle not for survival but for hope.Kabul was resilient and that was all that mattered to its people.The by lanes of fear,the army rangers patrolling the area for security and the Presidential Palace in all its magnanimity were sights of assurance that helped keep life going on.When i had set foot in Kabul,i was excited and interested in the state of life,now i felt devoid of all emotion except for a confused state of rage and helplessness.I was not alone in my sensitivity,there were many who were aware of the turmoil the nation was in but like me,could really not do anything worthwhile.

I was an outsider but the Afghans welcomed me with open arms.The hard humor at the US Army bases goes as-An Afghan embraces you only to stab you in the back,i do not believe this to be true and a certain level nor do they;but the imperialistic discourse in their foreign policy is unmissable.They never came here looking for terrorists.They came here for a stronghold over Western Asia,a potent strategic location.What is audacious and overwhelming so is America's sordid belief in its exceptionalism and fundamental sense of righteousness that it fails to acknowledge cultures and traditions apart from his own.Afghanistan has/had(can't really place a finger on it) a rich culture and one finds delight and finesse intrinsically layered within its various art forms,something that is disappearing for no apparent fault of theirs;for one cannot really expect them to preserve art when they are struggling to preserve their life?I was certain their must be a logic,a finality of thought that could explain this spectacular holocaust but i was certain no man alive could fit all the pieces together.While i drift towards philosophy,the battle weary Afghans contemplate existentialism,i gather a local translation of Camus would do them some good.I walk some more,inhaling the stench of dry sweat and absorbing the contours of a nation that is fighting since time immemorial.Generations of men have fought for a freedom whose essence they themselves have forgotten.

To quote an old cinematic Afghan about the enemy's prayer-"May God deliver us from the venom of the Cobra, teeth of the tiger, and the vengeance of the Afghan."

My story is not yet over but i cannot write anymore for i fear sheer despondency may force me to abort my endeavors of chronicling my journey of this land of opiate lions.

Friday, February 5, 2010

A Muse And Specks Of Dust

Dorothy Parker And The Concerned Universe

Indifferent Lovers And Lonely Muses

Dorothy came and went
her words
and indifference
strewn like ashes
in the river of my life.

She is neither here
nor ever will
but should i not want
that cannot be mine?
she came and went
far away,not forever.

For she left her words
poetic verse
like a child
of the masters
and the slaves alike.

Understand you not
life and laughs.
and what burns on
your cheeks,
are not just my tears
nor even yours.

What you left
you know not
and nor do i.
but you still know
a bit of this and that
while i still don't.

You cannot return
nor can i
for fate binds us
along with words
some you use
and some i.

Gone you are
away and far
but you taught me
a thing or two
about life's flair
yet never to care.

Friday, January 29, 2010

For The Times To Come

Goodness is incomprehensible.A stain of divinity.Perfection beyond the realm of thought,surpassing action and motives,confusing the world to the point of turmoil.What you call beauty,what you worship as your gods,what you feel as divine is the Absolute Good.Undeviating truth,like a child who sees the world through wondrous eyes,it is our innate goodness that the world takes away from us bit by bit.Don't fear the world,it can be fooled.I have done so.The art lies in deception.Its paradoxical that one must use deception to preserve the very seed of goodness.Act as if you are evil while nurturing the child of goodness within the womb of your soul.The world will hunt you,men who call themselves your brothers will feed upon you if you betray an inkling of your goodness.Show the world that you are brutal,devious,cunning.Only then you may be able to save goodness from its impending doom.

They say its impossible to be good.It is not.You gave up too soon.The world is not bad.I pity it.I see the cosmic joke.Each one of us projects an image.An image of our faults,of our follies so that we may be seen as plausible victors in this universe of duplicity.Drop the mask.Be good.The universe exists in the hope that we all will share a common brotherhood,of love,of tolerance,of beauty.Don't disappoint it.

Men destroy goodness in the light of the day but they weep for their actions in the darkness of night.Gloom settles on them as the world snubs them with the gaze of envy and loathing.You run after love,after wordily possessions,after a sense of complacency.Leave it all behind.You can only reach divinity through acts of goodness.Pure and joyful.The last thread that co joins us to humanity almost like an umbilical cord.Snap it and civilisations will fall.You know the pinnacle of happiness through acts of goodness.You have felt it.You know the sheer brilliance of our poetic selves.We are all creatures of delight,possessing potential for acts of paramount kindness.You will not live to see a thousand suns.But you can illuminate this place with a bit of your own inner light,the very flame that flickers a bit too brightly by the joy you give to the world.You are your own master,your own god,live life as a human being,secretly spreading joy and love,but be always on your guard,for the world should never know that you are essentially good.

*And he smiled and smiled.*

Monday, January 18, 2010

Midnight Rendevouz

Bored as usual,bored of french opera music,of cinema italiano,of endless cups of bittersweet coffee,of reading unmentionable books back to back;i decided to go out.It was almost the middle of the night,an hour to go perhaps,that i contemplated the destination of my midnight escapade.It had to be someplace where i could find solitude,an escape from ennui,from nothingness to nothingness.I had to be quiet or it would be really weird trying explaining your parents why you were fully dressed(not that its otherwise) and trying to tiptoe out of the house in the middle of the night.I had apply all the stealthy moves that i had subconsciously learned from the likes of Bond and Wile E Coyote.I was feeling reckless and bored,a dangerous combination for a quiet,chilly and foggy Delhi night.

I clocked around an average of 122kph and reached the heart of Delhi in about twenty minutes.Connaught Place is a lovely,my kinda place with its obvious Georgian architecture and obscure history.Obscure not in the historical sense,of course,but about those countless stories that make up the place and give it an ethereal charm.So i reach the place somewhere around 12 and am felling pretty rebellious for a change.I drive a bit around,hoping to find a nice place to go to,when i suddenly realize that its been a long time since i indulged myself in a bit of luxury.Well i don't drink(as of yet),so no point in going to a pub and sipping cranberry juice.Both the Meridian and Shangri La are close by but i decided to go to the Meridian instead;a bit of nostalgia with that place,not to mention familiar terrain.I was almost there when i thought that tonight is not the night to do tried and tested things,tonight is the night to try new things,to live life dangerously.I admit going to Shangri La isn't dangerous one bit but such are life's dearies!

I was ushered in Cafe Uno discretely and politely.The ambiance was excellent and so was the coffee.Lost in my own amusing thoughts of how my definition of a midnight snack had changed over the years,i suddenly noticed someone looking at me intently.Now this rarely happens to me and i am usually the one giving people long piercing stares.She gave me a small coquettish smile and i trying to look all suave and confident,gave her an inviting,charming smile.She walked over and said,

'Hi,Do you mind if i join you?'

'Of course not,rather i would be quite glad',standing up suddenly as a proper gentleman.A bit of chivalry doesn't really hurt anyone.

'Aditya, right?'

'Um....yeah but how do you know my name?',i asked,utterly perplexed.

'I am surprised you don't remember me.Hi,I am *****,we met at Vaibhav's party.'

'Oh,Hi *****,i am so sorry.Its been a long time and it was kinda dark at his place',i grinned sheepishly.

'Oh that's all right though i guess his place was dark for a reason.'We both smiled and then laughed.Her laugh was more of giggle but in a cute sort of a way.

And then we talked.We talked about life,about love,about the world at large.It was strange,talking to someone whom i had met met just once before but it felt absolutely brilliant.We shared the same tastes in books and movies though we were at polar opposites when it came to the question of Shobha De;she found her over rated ,i did not.Apart from our opinions on Ms De,we both had the same fantastic tastes!!!

Coffee was brilliant.Our conversation was even better.But as Nelly Furtado sings,All good things come to an end.They actually do.She had to go and i had to leave.We exchanged numbers and i wrote my blog address on her hand.She walked away and suddenly i felt the chill in the air.

I reached home,tip toed back to my room and thought about the evening.Life is one big coincidence and i am waiting for it to happen again.

If you are reading this,then i ll be there waiting for you,same place,same time.If not,i ll still be there.

PS- ******,you are absolutely brilliant and fantastic.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

The Murder Of Sherlock Holmes

How do you murder someone?Do you need a knife or perhaps one of those cool Heckler & Koch G36 that i might get on my birthday?Neither.You need to have a brilliant commercial acumen and the critical ability of a toddler.Yes,thats all you need,i suppose.Guy Ritchie killed Sherlock Holmes and he didn't even try hard.It all comes naturally to him,i suppose,especially after RocknRolla n Revolver.Well Snatch was good but Mr (ex)Madonna needs to stop seeing cinema as a means to make a quick buck and understand the nuances of keeping a character true to its identity.Sherlock Holmes is not a man nor a simple character out of a book,he is an enigma,and that too of the highest order.He doesn't brood over Irene Adler nor does he experiment on dogs.He is a cerebral tour de force,an opponent to be reckoned with.Ritchie makes him a cross between a retard neurotic and a fence jumping jaw cracking lunatic who reveals his cards in the end(why the unnecessary prolongation?).I knew all the answers before the interval itself.Truly sad for a Holmes movie.

Ritchie fails to grasp Holmes.He fails to appreciate the subtlety of his character.When he meditates,shuts himself up for days or injects himself with hallucinogens,it is not an act.He develops lucidity and clarity beyond our current imagination.Holmes is a man who is defined it his entirety as a thinker.He is not an action hero and he definitely doesn't wait for ages to put the facts straight,a technique which the director uses to prolong the pathetic plot.What is worse that Watson is suddenly a madly in love gentleman who is often in dilemma to choose between Holmes and his lady love(terribly played by Kelly Reilly). Every character is flawed exponentially though i will extend my sympathies to the actors;both Downey Jr and Law act well but within the limiting structure of the plot and character development.Mark Strong is truly brilliant as Lord Blackwood.Professor Moriarty does drop in though he is a bit hesitant in everything he does including showing his face.

Mr Ritchie,you just shredded Sherlock Holmes with a two hour long cinematic blunder,it would have been better had you used a Heckler and Koch G36.Don't,for the love of god,make a sequel.

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Alea iacta est

I am dying.Don't crack that hopeful sunshine smile of yours yet.I am not dying.I have knowingly/unknowingly plunged into the deepest abyss of conscious cerebral devastation.I see lights.I feel darkness.I talk to people without an inkling of my true self.It does not matter anymore.The mirror of my identity has finally cracked and all that i see are a myriad of images,each different,each haunting,each perfect.If life truly is a stage then i am the perfect actor.

What is true?What is wrong?What is real?Does it really matter now?When silence is deafening and you are in a funk where all that matters is nothing,then the world gets scared.Voids of identity.Large blank spaces.Hazy visions.Spiralling control or rather the lack of it.The world is not an oyster,it is a mirage.A puff of smoke gathered in a lifetime.Past,present and future are nothing but recurring chapters where nothing is what it seems.

Bring out the gods.Drag them on the streets.Pelt them with stones and ask them,
Mere playthings or an experiment that went out of hand?Maybe they don't have an answer.Maybe they do.Interrogate.Bad cop.Very bad cop.

The above situation is an ideal one.The center will truly collapse if gods turn out to be a figment of our imagination.Where do we turn now?Objectivism won't take you far,you will burn out.But how do i care?I am dying,after all.

It is amusing to mock the world at large.Having cynicism that shrouds itself in sarcasm is an intellectual orgasm.In those seconds of undefinable bliss,you spurt out(no pun intended) sheer brilliance,pent up creativity and seer like solitude.The world is very scared now.

Things turn ugly.The world,scared and frightened,calls upon its armies.Vast numbers.Power.Oooh it wants to intimidate.A defensive move clearly.I smile for i smell fear.This is not war.It is an extermination.Extermination of bodies,of books,of solid mahogany desks.The world cracks a beautiful smile.Terror has been suppressed.Children may go out and play.The machine starts again.The world is a better place once again.

Two lovers in trance like passion.Bodies intermingled.Stench of sex.The seed reaches its temple.Two cells join.Post coital cigarette anyone?Another one is coming.Another one will be sacrificed at the alter.Its time to smile.

I did not die after all.

Friday, January 1, 2010

An Answer

'Why don't you talk to me properly?'

'I am talking to you properly ,i am courteous,i am polite ,i am ..'

'Shut up.I am not talking about social mannerisms.Things have changed and you know it.Did i say something wrong?Cmon tell me.'

'Oh there is nothing of such sort.'

'Fine i too won't talk to you.'


*Moments pass*

'Doesn't it have any affect on you?'


'I did not want to be blunt or rude.We have been friends for a long time but i am sorry but i cannot continue talking to you anymore.I gave you hints but you ignored them.Its over.I am sorry.'


'If you haven't understood by now,i won't ever be able to explain it you.But always know,i have known pain,tasted defeat but being with you is a trauma,a finality that i cannot explain.You are so precious to me that i cannot bear to even look at you or hear your voice,because every time i do that i see my life as a failure.Understand and forgive me.'

'You always spoke in riddles but if it makes you happy then i won't see you again.'



To give away oneself to another is the most sacred and vulnerable deed.To be thwarted then,is the most painful.The two most powerful emotions known to man are-love and hatred.When both fail to reassure,a new emotion takes over to compensate for loss of pride and mental anguish:indifference.Indifference is chiefly the only thing that will help you sail over rough waters.

Let the world burn to ashes and i won't bat an eyelid.