2 Biscuits and Water

Square in shape with corners slit and forming curves which look smooth. Sharp edges willingly etched out symbolizing the generosity by nature/philanthropic by culture/responsible by corporate jargons; inducing and practicing self-flagellation. Golden layered fighting the chemical course desperate to make it yellow and shabby. A few years older than me (23 running (brisk walking rather)) and hence the justified omniscient looks casted down upon me. An importance gathered due to impeccable visibility at a location where it gets noticed without going through the turmoil of search. Lethargy and rest inevitable denied as it threatens its core competency. Seemed like an attention seeker in case of ignorance of more than 15mins. Loud and clear while it did so as if to say – “ Out of sight ain’t out of mind anymore!” followed by chuckles.

Square shaped with smooth edges due to fine finesse. Golden in color slowly fading off as it has been static in location but dynamic in action since years longer than I’ve lived. Located in the entrance hall and hence very noticeable. Have to feed in batteries to it as it is useless if it’s not working coz that’s its JOB!! Every 15mins a tune is heard, different each time in an hour. You can hear it distinctly even if you are in some other room. Yes, the description is a dedication to the ANNOYING ( Di would agree) WALL CLOCK hung at my home . So why the descriptive need about the forest,the trees,the bark,the wood,the ovals indicating the age,the molecules,the atoms,the nucleus? The metamorphosis shall be noticed as you read further. More readable henceforth? Without a doubt. An initiation to be less enigmatic? A note lower than the high pitch, toning down I would say. More footfall? Wouldn’t mind that. More commercial? Rational and relatable I shall say. Does Colin Firth deserve an Oscar for The King’s Speech? You bet he does.

Imagine its 11pm and you have to write a paper at 10am for which you would be forced to leave your place by 9am ( anticipating traffic jams, breaking down of your vehicle,too many buffaloes on a morning walk, drunken men dizzy and finding their way back home on the street,small kids slowing down your speed, women crossing the street looking at one side in a two way street etc.) . If you are the grasshopper from the Aesop’s fable, now (11pm) is the peak time you regret fooling around in the summer. Sleeping is not really on your mind because THERE IS A TASK TO BE DONE – more of desperate attempts to consume few words to scribble on the paper. As you ‘flip’ through the abridged Bibles of your subjects, some people make sure the mosquito net is mounted on the top of your bed giving you no reasons to fall sick and skip the exam. Then comes the statement that your frame of mind does not allow. A statement which might have an intent to calm but has the content which freaks the daylights out of you. It asks you to fall asleep, get early the next day and REVISE what you have studied /prepared all this while. REVISE?? What is that? Revise the minority while the majority lies unattended? Revise should be included under the heading of torture words, just like words ‘nice’, ‘whatever’,’shopping’,’thingy’, ‘anyway’ et cetera. You calm your nerves and explain how that is the last thing that crossed your mind and you needed to STUDY A LOT till the morning. You cannot risk failure by getting sleepy like the Rabbit in the race! The noticeable rise in pride issues under the pretext to merely be mediocre for survival. Focused ambition , ehh? Not really. Rather survival instincts. An opera ends when the fat lady wishes it to. A boxing match ends at the cease of the bell. A dot has the power to restrict a chain of words. Just like that what worsens the situation are the immortal words that flies like a butterfly but stings like a bee. It makes you feel like a crazy Englishman petting his/her dog in Korea where dogs are eating. It questions your beliefs, your (mis)doings, your pathetic time management, you inability to prioritize, lacking of planning, procrastination with stiches in time.

Situational Warrior ( mental agility at the vertex but still broad as the base in terms of action) : “ Have to study. Blah blah. What if cannot do well tomorrow. Blah Blah. “ Trust me you do not wish this to be answered. It was a rhetorical Q but now the arrow has left the bow. Carrots replaced by sticks.The fish is trapped in the net.

Omniscient Ruler : “ So what if you cannot ( not even don’t stressing on the carelessness you have shown) perform well tomorrow? After all, Jo karega woh bharega!!”

As you sow , so shall you reap. The one who has worked on the field will eventually fill up the bags after the yield. Even if I try to translate Hindi – English,the impact and shudder it causes will be unmatched,unparralled and not exact. The knocking on Hope’s door now have become thuds with SOS signals for rescue. Hard hitting and whisks the wind off your face. The most important thing that this line does to you is it berefts you of reasons for your non-performance. Makes you blame no one but yourself. Teaches you go be responsible only if you want to learn your lessons. Otherwise, those are just mean words to say to a poor soul. Add to that the ding-dongs of the dreadful wall clock indicating how short you are of time.

Dabs of boosting self-confidence during the evening in the form of bread pizzas, bit of cuddling, G0- Tiger…s….helps but the last grasps of oxygen as you choke can be the deciding factor.The fur-feet contact under the table was like rubbing against a soft carpet black in color ,lots of fur, white in the chest. You are still thoroughly missed every time my chappels lose their base.

The more YIN approach would be 2 biscuits and water.So is the 4 Rasgulla’s sans sugar syrup is non-fattening which you fall for no matter what age has done to you. Yes, simple, sweet, manageable and re-assuring devoid of the T.word ‘ Revise’. A doable though. Get up early in the morning, brush ,have 2 biscuits and a glass of water and then study . Basically get your thoughts in order considering you are in bad shape, get some mind rest, of course you have studied enough to scrap through, don’t get the panic button yet, feed your hungry stomach, jot down what you feel is important and get back to work. Can’t really escape the work by worry can you? What about the faith you should have in yourself ? Will not question your ability at all albeit serious doubts still exist during household chores and in the kitchen.

At 4am today morning , I woke up only to end up writing this piece. Long sabbatical it has been for me from this blog. An attempt to make it personalized and more in the form of direct speech unlike the earlier posts which acted like sleeping pills , patience test, bouncers in cricket, hons in English fainting of horror due to interpretations by an engineer, reading comprehension practice for competitive exams, tool for marks for the new media subject etc. The attempt wasn’t strategic obviously. It is just the reflection of what is incident on the surface area.

Had 2 biscuits and water before I started writing. No exam today though.

P.S : The Wall clock functions but is impaired in sound. Yang of the family decided to do so.

Restoration or Exploitation of Thyself

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, "What will I be? Will I be pretty, will I be rich??
Here's what she said to me.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera .

The librarian plays Solitaire as the kids wait anxiously in the queue, the professor continues ,royally ignoring his inefficiency in teaching and it’s effectiveness in the form of successful distractions amongst students, family business becomes a compulsion and an excruciating U turn from fantasies which get wrapped n forgotten in d name of hobby( with oodles of stories to narrate after 30yrs…notice the pride in their eyes when they do that) for some fresh graduates, the maid servant screams she’ll charge extra for cleaning the pink handkerchief isolated in a heap of white bed sheets , a top brand manager of a popular newspaper feels he is caged in his office n pours his heart out to a 21yr old stranger, the beggar pushes her three tiny tots in a myriad of automobiles because they are a better bet when it comes to the Ka Ching. I wonder what would have happened had they questioned what was being dished out to them. What was fair? What justice and the right to choose means? I wonder if life would have been more miserable for them if these questions were answered. Which of the two makes sense…waiting for the answers or just keep on moving?

Angels from hell ( AFH…they take their job very seriously ) : why advertising after 4yrs of engg.? Why this drastic shift ?

Phaedrus ( 4 clouds of thoughts floating around the head)A) I am interested in the field.Gives me the adrenaline rush. ( Go drink coffee then.More effective….Don’t say this)
B) Working for college events ..which blossomed a liking for the field ( you are from xyz coll. Which is in a town called Nagpur with xyz events relatively small in number. Forget the 450 participants you got for your event. Other colleges from other cities talk in thousands….nope not this)
C) Creative I am. Can’t go with the flow.can’t follow the norms. ( Hmm but do you want to risk scaring them with your rebellious streak already? Think.
D) This is what I want to do. I know a quality education of 2yrs n I would have traveled enough to announce my arrival. Don’t you notice the passion in my eyes and words when I speak about what I like? The heart has reasons that reason cannot know ( hahahaaa. Wrong century,dudette!! Its not thirst to learn , its thirst to earn)

What comes out of the mouth is what lies in the heart…Ohhh Phaedrus, you romantic fool !! The queen of Hearts has always been your best bet. Says Phaedrus : “ if everyone continued with what they started then Rajnikanth would still be a bus conductor n Sean Connery , a milkman.” (option E will occur rarely.we will hesitate to chose it most of the times.only the brave n foolish go ahead with it.)

AFH collapse stupefied .

Satan seems to understand and laughs.

Phaedrus remains an incorrigible dreamer.Now it seems to me, some fine thingsHave been laid upon your tableBut you only want the ones that you cant get….Desperado.

An 18 yr old drags his feet claming it to be a moonwalk in a reality show viewed by millions. Says he has been doing it from d age of one. He has to be like MJ. That is all he knows n that is all he wants. Phaedrus laughs. Somebody save him. She believes she’ll cause rain when she sings the Malhar raag. She begins and frogs surrender to the snakes (its better to die this way than die due to lack of rainfall ..which won’t take place ever ).Phaedrus squeals and rolls on the sofa laughing like a maniac. What makes these fools believe they can sail through their entire life doing something they are not even meant to do? 6 months…Phaedrus, the joke is on you. Can you even manage a smile now? Self awareness needs lot of courage. Unfortunately, it needs a stamp of agreement from people sitting high up there. When you are there, people think that you really know.

Do we really have a control over what we want? Why do others play an important role in deciding our access to our desires? Is is okay to fear that you might go waste? Why is it so agonising when you dare to ask questions but never find the answers? Why is everyone running in the same rat race? Even if you win you still remain a rat. Is is okay to find a reason for each chase? They say I gotta learn But nobody's here to teach me. If they can't understand it, how can they reach me?Ayn Rand says…Nothing is given to man on earth except a potential and the material on which to actualize it.The potential is a superlative machine: his consciousness; but it is a machine without a spark plug, a m/c of which his own will has to be the spark plug,the self starter and the driver;he has to discover how to use it and he has to keep it in constant action.The material is the whole of the universe, with no limits set to the knowledge he can acquire and to the enjoyment of life he can achieve.But everything he needs or desires has to be learned,discovered and produced by him- by his own choice,by his own effort,by his own mind.I'm an educated fool with money on my mind Got my ten in my hand and a gleam in my eye.Too much television watching, got me chasing dreams…The spider continues spinning in the dark in spite of all the times the web is torn apart. Sometimes I wonder whether not questioning is the answer to most of the questions. Very difficult to do so for some one like Phaedrus but saves him from self mutilation.

The Importance Of Acknowledgement

The endearing cheek of a cherubic face, all of 5yrs, broadcasted an unstoppable flow of salty waters amidst the potpourri of faces with smiles that seemed permanently starched. After an investigation carried out to crack the mystery behind d sorrow, the accused ,looking very pretty in pink and of the same age as the victim, was unmasked. She was found guilty of ignoring the crucial information and updates about Barbie and Ken that the former had to share. A treaty was signed and the white flag was waved. An audience was found in one and the speaker was delighted. A few hours later something happened rather something was made to happen which left an impression on my mind. The victim ,no longer so, strutted around along with her mother finding an audience in hundreds. A tantrum for an exotic dress had done the trick.Now she didn’t have to cry for the gal in pink to cater to her wedding plans for Barbie. She was being ‘heard’ because she was being ‘seen/noticed’.

When we are born ,the first thing we are supposed to do is cry.Cry our lungs out.Cry so that we are heard loud and clear and given a thumbs up by the doc for our chances of living beyond the hospital room. When we die, the epitaphs read our duration on this earth.We still want to be heard even after our death.I just didn’t vanish from the face of the earth.I was there for some decades.You better not forget that and I hope your are listening!!

If this world is a stage, I’m sure none of us would want to be a tree .Tree which is laden with fruits but still is just a background display with no dialogues. Everyone wishes to be Old Mcdonald (the only protagonist) and rest to be the farm animals.

I do not detest the desire to be heard in people. A joke shared, the validity of an information crucified by a debate, a sorrow understood ,a speculation steamed and served,an outcry for justice,a plea to condone, a nonsense stretched , a memory revisited, a talent appreciated, an advice consumed/ignored, a proposal heard, a deal fixed ,a success celebrated, a failure criticized, a bark thanking for the biscuit etc etc. We all need to be noticed to be heard. The fact that someone is listening to what you have to say does give a sense of satisfaction and justification that we are not the living dead yet.The topics of conversation changes with different people. As we grow, we become aware of to whom and what we need to say in order to be heard. Your dentist is paid to listen to your toothaches and not about the tiff you had with your boyfriend.As a result we sub consciously choose the information to be shared just to find an honest sounding board in the opposite.

The newspaper reads “ former Tiger mistress predicts bright future with him”.Why does she need to be a clairvoyant suddenly?? She has already done the damage with the affair confessions ..so why this new update? Well, it is simple. She was finally being heard,..heard by millions.She succeeds.An ardent admirer threatens to hang himself if Sonia.Gandhi refuses the PM post. He is heard too…heard for his ‘loyalty’. A politician goes on a hunger strike to highlight his demand. Heard again…heard for his ‘sacrifice’. A superstar refuses to grace an occasion when denied the front row seats. He is heard…heard because he is a ‘brand’..A 19 yr old molestation case ends with a stripping off of a medal and a smirking accused flaunting in front of the cameras.19 yrs of talk and still not heard here.The devastating effects of a heinous crime cleans the ear wax of the authority. Sometimes you need to scream to be heard or sit really high up.


Sometimes indecisiveness, insecurity and fogged vision about the future may lead us to people for an advice. It is perfectly fine but choose your audience. A stranger maybe of some momentary help because his advice will be somewhat unbiased but won’t it be better if you share it with someone who at least knows you better?? Most people just hear us out and not listen. Share but share wisely. There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us. It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution. We tend to confuse attention with a false sense of care. To be seen is not necessarily be heard. A painting can be just stared at or the story behind it can be discussed. Borrow different hues but paint your work alone and make sure you stroke a magnificient story.

Being Differently Same

Once upon a time in the lively village of Whozwhoville, lived people who called themselves wannabes and wanted to be willbes. The people followed a peculiar custom. Every child was named after a famous celebrity by his/her parents and it was the duty of the child to live up to his/her name. While some parents were over ambitious for their kids, the others reduced the pressure by naming them Cyrus Brocha.

Nobody expected you to be a world famous celebrity but you had to live the profession synonymous to your name and if that was not possible at least you had to do things similar to that person you were named after in your daily life. The people under the former category were called ‘willbes’ because of their sheer will and endurance that made them successful. The latter were called ‘wannabes’ because their efforts didn’t really justify the talent in their names. The town was named inspired by Mr. Khan who was a famous and respected Willbe. He had successfully lived up to his name (named after a very famous Deputy Head Clerk working in the Govt. Pay & Accounts Office in Mumbai).

While everything and everyone continued to live the life assigned to them , a troubled soul seemed to brew inside the girl with the prettiest smile in the village. She was Madhuri Dixit; the patent Sita (much to Karishma’s disappointment) in all the Ram Lila’s and was bestowed with great expectations. She was supposed to dance in a sari every time it rained in the village while the others were safely protected in their old-fashioned duckback raincoats and hide her face like an ostrich and feel shy every time someone complimented her. Although she hated the way she was remote controlled, one thing kept her alive and that was her fascination for aircrafts. With an air-base nearby the village, aircrafts flew frequently in the sky. Her dream was to fly An IAF Mig-29, painted yellow.

She once traveled to a nearby air show sitting uncomfortably on Anil Kapoor’s bicycle. They returned with a bicycle with a punctured tyre.Her mother Helen was shocked by this incident and felt Madhuri needed to lose weight. She decided to stop feeding Madhuri her favorite large paper masala dosa.Madhuri was horrified and decided to put an end to this ludicrous way of life. She decided to visit Mr. Khan and ask him the secret ingredient of his success.

She narrated her miseries to Mr. Khan and he heard them patiently. At the end, he smiled and said “The secret ingredient is... nothing! To make something special you just have to believe it's special.” It turned out that Mr. Khan was actually Dirubhai Ambani’s nephew who was expected to be great in the business sector. He dabbled his entire youth trying to live up to his famous surname but in reality the people around him were more ambitious for him than he himself was. All he wanted is a normal and modest lifestyle. He decided to change his name to Mr. Khan and live somewhere where nobody knew him. When he entered Everyonezville (old name of whozwhoville) he was very handsomely dressed and his manner of speaking was daunting for many. People started looking up to him and slowly the attention made him feel important. One fine day, the Panchayat leader ‘inspired’ by Mr. Khan decided to change the entire relaxed functioning of Everyonezville where everyone was anyone to a more ambitious Whowhozville, where who is who mattered. Everyone shouted in chorus “ What an idea Sirjee!! “

That evening, Madhuri thought and thought and thought some more. Thinking was against the custom considering her name but she did it anyway. The next morning she bundled up her belongings and decided to do what she should have done long before…pursue her dream of becoming a pilot. As she left home bidding adieu to her family , her mother asked what made her take such an extreme step. She coined her words in the simplest form and said “When you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go!!”

To my Teachers, With Love

A dinner table family discussion can turn out to be pretty tricky if everyone is feeling nostalgic and the spotlight is on you.Tricky because the skeletons safely tucked in the closet are brought out again n again n again and the reason behind it being coz its ‘funny’ (albeit the kin would prefer the word ‘adorable’ ) Stupidity is one sin that is truly forgiven when you are a kid. Foolishness seemed okay coz you could compensate it with being cute.But if you look at it this way….You were being observed so closely by people around you who refused to let you out of sight even for a sec coz you were ‘important’ to them….it makes you smile. So I sat n smiled today as I remembered a few happy chapters in my life. These are just few dog eared pages involving people who knew if burnished well, I could shine and spark.




Chapter 1 : Initiate……Have the courage to pick up the pieces and make a start.

The human structure neatly tucked in a uniform gets comfortable on the familiar four legged wooden structure. The legs of the former dangle in mid air; too short to reach and rest on the ground. The pose remains the same but nevertheless looked forward to with sheer delight every morning by the 2yr old waiting to be painted with different hues. The peregrination always ended a few happy steps before the ideal destination.While the other lilliputs steered in the huge brick box with tables and chairs and tried to figure out what the female soma had to say , I sat in my daily posture and gazing pose on my favorite chair( placed with perfection facing the street..) for two months. I sat smiling as if amused by a self composed surreptitious thought. The smile widened when lured with chocolates ; the bait being the entry into the classroom ( the big box ).But all this in vain!! When I was busy observing infinity each day, Mom observed me.Figuring out the sine qua non for educating her child was constantly on her mind.She noticed and she noticed me well. The drumbeats accompanied with a decorated team of oxen sped my heartbeats and gave me the heebie-jeebies (as King Julian of the Madagascar fame puts it). To bereft the nightmare of being taken away by this jungle of men and animals, I finally slipped myself into a new four legged furniture..placed much to my liking near the window.Education in the form of learning finally shook my hand. I had missed out on the two months of strenuous training of drawing celestial bodies and writing alphabets and numbers. The scene consisting of two chairs , a yellow bag , a desk and sunlight from the window still remains with me. This scene was followed each afternoon with only two actors …Mom, the protean teacher and me, the obdurate novice who always colored the sun a little too bright.I scored a 99/100 at the end of the year.Mom, I still exaggerate when I sketch but I do know my alphabets well now.


Chapter 2 : Dance….The power to express without saying a word.

Mondays and Fridays evenings saw me dressed up in red and yellow dancing away to glory…literally for 8 years. My legs found movement, my body found rhythm, my facial expressions found melodramatic escapes and my mind found the seminal grace. I was introduced to Bharatnatyam when I was in grade one by the most graceful lady I have met in my entire life. I called her Aunty and she reciprocated with Deeeeboleena.I never corrected her for the extended “e’s” . I never felt the need to. A stern look from her in case of any mistake was enough to scare us and make immediate amendments. This form of dance taught me grace, the difference between stiff and flexible , the power to do and not over do, the power to feel and express. What followed was a number of performances on stages of different widths and bases at different locations with different genres of people appreciating the art. The stage fright that once existed was reeled to the ground now. When on stage, it is my kingdom and I’m known to be a just and fair ruler.The love affair with the dance ended abruptly after my 8th grade. I had reasons then but learning this form of art will always be a reason for what n who I am today.All that I desire to point out is the general principle that life imitates art far more than art imitates life.

Chapter 3 : The Table…that unfolded many exigent tangles.

The blue folding table rests peacefully in the store room. It deserves to after all the trauma it has witnessed. This table was the most important base and meeting point of two people on days of crucial importance. It provided support bearing heavy objects crowded unkindly..as if testing it’s patience when it came to bearing the pain. It provided the weapons in the form of books to a mentally wounded soldier who desperately seeks the assistance of a war Major for the war of mathematics dated for the next day. My eyes, sodden with pain and anguish the cruel world of examination had caused , looked towards Dad. The look has always worked..thanks to the tactics I had developed in expressing elaborated in chapter no.2 .Dad , the master and ardent lover of the subject never refused to provide assistance even at the eleventh hour. He always believed the basics should be strong.After all the entire structure was dependent on it. Agreed but when you have an exam the next day, you really want someone to tell you only about what you would face and not what would make you really good at it. But grumbling was of no use. So I wrote the definitions of a point,circle,segment etc knowing very well that none would be asked. Dad had tremendous patience.I understood this as a kid. After 3hrs of rigorous solving when somebody falters at a silly question…you really feel like ripping your hair off.Dad surprisingly never did that although tempers did fly once in a while. He gave me short ten min breaks where I could go and hit my sister and come back. The hitting was usually usurped by botherings of my rantings because Di was the shark and I was the goldfish back then.I always scored well mostly because I never wanted to let him down. It was important for me to do well when I was taught so well.The celebrations of a good score with corn and a heap of peanuts with Dad was priceless.

Chapter 4: Imagination…. makes you think better.

Try to imagine what your pet must be dreaming about when he is fast asleep. Try to imagine your leafy garden turn into a jungle with you it’s inhabitants and your pet dog as your pet tiger. Try to imagine a picnic in the woods with jars of marmalades and cookies on a blameless blue Sunday. Try to cook up names and associate cartoon characters with people you know. I am not asking you to cross the line and use hyperboles which cause nausea. I sure do pity the people who can’t dream, who can’t imagine. It’s a must tenet which should be swallowed by each child along with his/her baby food. Di had swallowed oodles of it and she made sure I had my share too. The result was me hanging stockings till the 7th grade greedy for Christmas gifts each 25th dec night while rest of my classmates sniggered and sneered. The disbelief so strong in them just made me feel sorry for them. For I had the power to weave a story and generate interest. Interested and interesting is all I want to be all my life.Although Di there are times when I don’t want you to associate me with a one eyed green water thing with tentacles called Plankton …I hold dear Hakuna Matata that song you,me n Pluto share.

P.T.O ( to be continued as and when meet and sigh at the sight of people who measure all the students with the same yardstick)

Took a wrong turn in the Marauder's Map..

Pitch dark.No promenades in the parks and fairs named – Anything You Want It To Be and rightly so.The lights glimmer and the music rhymes.The wood,bolts,iron rods and the structured mechanism, buttressed with current which helps them work, brandish and vacillate exuding a charm hardly ever gone wrong. The charm never meets company.Fairy godmother is baffled with her skills challenged and stares mysteriously at her wand. Cindrella is all dressed up and pretty and with her glass slippers on but Prince Charming stands uptight..no lines,no curves,no looks of delight..Resembles a starch faced sculpture. But it’s supposed to be ‘happily ever after’ and its possible now and here…in this world placed outside the world.The Pied Piper plays the flute but the rats are stone deaf.

It is not a one way ticket. The ride will take you back home and all for free.It is like you toss a bone to your pet dog and he turns the other way. You stare wide eyed and dislike the human trait of refusing and choosing in something not human.Bones are harmful for them but humans love the idea of watching the digs of the canine ,extracting the juice and tearing down the remains of the last remains. The bone hangs in the mid air swerving in different directions controlled by a human hand.The directions rebel against the attempts made by two paws in the air and inner jest to grab it. They call it entertainment. While the child laughs at the failed attempts, the furball continues the bolero.Little does the toddler realize he/she feeds poison ..a slow poison to his/her beloved and infinitesimal idea has the dog got that he invites his own grave. Nature has termed both of them as pure and innocent by birth,design and characteristics. They both go unpunished. The inferno of Satan is seen as a bonhomie around a bonfire.

Still dark. The flow of nothingness. Peaceful not by contentment but by lack of it. The turbulence is bellowed at.It sits at the corner of the dark room staring at a shade darker than black and with a dunce cap on. A little white appears.You can see the white because the yellow supports it. Five seconds of the new hue and you start missing the old friend.The desire to go back for the want of it or just an escapade?? A twist of spinal cord and the surface area occupied by the flesh-bones and supposedly emotions is halved.The new color is brown and it is majestic.The four strong legs of brown carries the sheets of wisdom crown.The brawn holds the brains.It will have to wait.Any color will do as long as its black. It’s dark again by choice.
The eye decides to meet other residents of the colony of life.The spirit has advised it to do so. They claim to be different but are the same in everything different. A Zeal of zebra bray and want you to identify each one of them as a separate. You are hapless due to this impossibility beseeched. But they claim that some great men had dictionaries devoid of that word – impossible. Surely such dictionaries still exist…passed on by the hierarchy pyramid or the family tree…The Greats(the fruits) to the sybarite successors of the Greats(the branches laden with fruits) to the boisterous individuals carrying a great history ( the bark which is too thin to hold on ) and finally the naughts thriving leeches of borrowed illumination too soiled( the roots) to even hold a grip.A strong wind bows down the Great eventually. A person should die in the same century he taken birth in. Death is an adventure sport. It leaves you puffing and panting for breath, makes you feel light and see the light, makes you wonder if you can actually fool it. It is better to die of one respectable calamity than die a thousand deaths of banal figments of imagination of the limbless creepers clinging to anything that helps them climb.The eye misses the black.The spinal cord longs for the velvet opulent with cotton.Its black again.

The new exposure has its effects. The flow of red is in the other direction.Up , speedily up and in furious pace.Red meets the seer of the body.All calm is lost.The brevity of their meet is the vestige of the power of emotions.Emotions sometimes so unreasonable. Transparent drops rush and the bailiwick becomes hot due the stream.Whatever boils fervently, ultimately vaporizes. The fire cracker seems to fizzle out sooner than imagined.Each new venture short lived. To concentrate it needs to be indulging in 10 different works. You are a human centipede.For once can’t you think without thinking?

The gathering is victualed to spread the fortune of one .Pray, this spread will only spread and stretch till you mis-(the)-fortune..The food is bland. Pickles serve as a supplant to the otherwise tedious consumption. The tang loved,the piquant rejoiced and the smacking of lips displayed. Everyone is happy. The pickle is important and proclaimed a life saver. But the pickle is a celebrity only on the weekends when one can afford to get entertained and be amused. Other mundane days are of pragmatic exercise. The hand automatically stretches out for easy and judicial option…the salt.Pickle , no more is a necessity.You are what they want when there is no want at all. The painter was jubilant as he violently controlled the strokes of the brush.You sat patiently,amused at the acme of excitement you had caused.As the clock ticks and the joined triplets who look nothing alike change locations, the painter yawns behind the canvas.You fail to notice and still feel important.He is a painter in his leisure time.He has to get back to the real world which will win him bread and butter. He assures his return to finish what he had started off with. I am a need and this need will bring him back.You fool yourself.Was the world laughing with you or at you?

You look at the mirror for a reality check.The mirror turns out to be an amusement park which transmits to you nothing but distorted signals from a reality forever beyond your grasp.The change is frightening but this didn’t occur overnight.The failure to recognize this metamorphosis and the inability to provide a barrage to it is humiliating.How can one not notice oneself? You want to try what you imagined but ugly misfit picture makes you tremble. The pretty titbits which were picked up out of pure fascination are put back where they belong. You go back to the regular wholesome meal.The carpets seem to hide so much.They provide so much comfort.You want to go back to black asap.

The climb up the ladder is tricky but you seem better equipped this time around.The dice rolls in your favour and you climb further.One false move and you end up in the serpents mouth. You slide down smoothly dejected. You are back to square one. The guns blaze as the sun wakes up.The firing continues incessantly till dawn. You seem to be out of bullets and the enemy is still armed.You plan intoxication at this crucial moment.This is like planning your own burial but you claim to be already intoxicated with the guzzling of situations you had never anticipated.Each day a new start and each night the same end.The race seemed exciting as you ran with all your might but suddenly you notice the same surroundings.How could this be? You are running forward so why is time turning back? The track is circular and you reach where you started. You ran on the wrong track in the wrong race all this while. How did your own speed led you to believe that you were on a forward journey when all the while you just sat at home letting the enthusiasm do the fatal and misleading run.What blinds the eye…the love or fear? Which is a greater emotion? Do we love out of fear or fear out of love? Fear to end up in an arena made designedly or love for a nascent desire? Fear shows you the picture which love hides from you. Fear does the dirty job for life.

Black paralyzes the soul and constipates the actions. Black injects morphine and abates the agitation and restlessness. The colors just make you love black better. The eye has to see white.White is ultimately the mixture of all the hues. You don’t have to see them all now. Just see some white. The reason to love something is not because you hate its opposite. White is not an enemy.Not a jealous replacement. Just give it a shot.Go drink coffee with it. More of white n less of black is the key. You know it. Black right now is the Agony aunt lending you a shoulder to cry on. Arrested development is what I see.White has never seen you as a victim..never a survivor,always a warrior.Just give it a chance. A fair chance.

Pragmatic Incarceration of a Romantic ...

Mysterious note: The content below can baffle the SENSES and has nothing to do with the savage hunting of creativity as planned originally. I changed my mind and decided to be creative.

Phaedrus, comfortably numb for a little more than a month now is mystified with his own ability to stop questioning for a while.Life was smooth , placid , aloof and on a permanent insinuation of anaesthesia.The modicum of kookiness didn’t lasted for too long.The inability to find his favorite Outlet to drain the concocted fumes of suppressed agitation led Phaedrus to his old long lost friend Alter Ego.The Outlet is blocked for sometime.It has been over used recently but then it has been under used for so many years.Alter Ego, the doppelganger of Phaedrus is amorphous with no human form.It is amusing how desperately people try to find their Alter Ego’s in flesh and blood of different chromosomes.It is so precarious if you think you have “found one” in someone else.AE is within you and is always available for a talk.

But AE wasn’t alone when Phaedrus reached. Phaedrus was introduced to The Fool,an opinionated man of few irritating words.Maybe he was AE’s Alter Ego. As they say , every best friend has another best friend. The conversation begins with the addicted aroma of the anticipated coffee filling up the place.The sedentary placement is picture perfect on the steps facing the backyard and there are people moving on the road behind the fence.

AE ( with a smirk ): You have been coming to meet me a lot these days. We used to be inseparable once upon a time but then you seemed to gradually drift away to an Outlet. I notice the difference now due to our erratic encounters. It seems Incarceration ironically opened many locks .

Phaedrus : It did actually.The journey began when my journey had ended. A facial expression that was a reaction to a dreaded question and a word was noticed. I am glad it was noticed. Vicissitudes of the peregrination still exist but I know they are the essence of the charm. Everything possible ventured into and still so much more to discover. Guilty of not paying enough attention to you because it is never like the way it is with you. You never leave and that is the best part.

The Fool : Each of us is here for a brief sojourn. Schopenhauer says, that "a man can do as he will, but not will as he will


Phaedrus : Why are people scared to love wholeheartedly? By love I don’t mean ‘ C’mon baby light my fire ‘ kinda love. I don’t see people adore each other. Heck , I don’t even come across the word adore anymore. Only the honey bunnies and sweet pumpkins seem to own the copyrights of the term love these days. Throw in parental love and love with the third cousin who is the daughter to the aunt whose name I don’t remember but she is loud and pink in all the family functions. How bout love between two people that arises out of pure adoration ? why is that so strange to many??

Alter Ego: Wait a minute. You are unknowingly contradicting yourself. The dictionary uses idolization, the sort reserved for God alone as a synonym for adoration.

Phaedrus : No, not hero worshipping. Now you see?? See how difficult it is to express your fondness for someone without extricating your feelings into something absolutely different . It gets reduced to something safer . I ‘ like ‘ him/her/that.

The Fool: Even the word ‘like’ has a hint of an expectation that something might happen. You have to even use a different tone which sounds harmless when you use it otherwise you can fall pray to portentous ramblings of a CBA ( can be anybody).

Alter Ego : A lot of factors come into consideration when you project your feeling in public view. A certain conduct has to be maintained. A line has to be drawn no matter how bleak and austere you find the lines.The line has always been there, Phaedrus. You chose not to see it. The absence of proof is not the proof of absence. It is the way the world functions. Blame it on their inhibitions or maybe lack of courage or simply dearth of wanting to trust people causes this restrained love.

Phaedrus : Is there something like “ we just clicked?” I have met people, most of the time complete strangers and we have got along like a house on fire. I instantly seem to develop a soft corner for them. I can’t see them in trouble and I tend to act as the mother hen when I see them swerving in the wrong direction. I could never see things gray. It is either black or white. I can’t understand moderation. If you love someone , you love him/her with no boundaries. Period.

Alter Ego : Phaedrus ,Not everyone is strong and in a situation to showcase what they feel. With you it has been different and never calculated. What amazes me is why this sudden birth of expectation? I have always admired the self-composed-with-tremendous experience principle of relationship that you follow…. In order to maintain a relation ,you should never expect and always should have the power to detach whenever you want to.

The Fool : The secret of life is never to have an emotion that is unbecoming.


Phaedrus : I am not expecting here. It’s just that I was wondering if sharing of dreams was possible.Can somebody else’s dream be as important as mine? Why this urge to see things fall into place for the other person? Can’t see them give up without a decent fight. But personalizing this fight..is it necessary? Is it needed? Is it worth it? What happens to my dream ? Why do I have to ask for attention? Why are people like King Lear? Why do I have to speak with a purpose and for a purpose to get my share? Will Cordelia always be punished for loving her father more than words?


Alter Ego : It’s your dream . Why do you want somebody else to sweat it out with you? You want it , go get it.You have always been the romantic fool.I agree, in every relation there has to be manifestation of growth on both the sides. Most relations fail when once realizes of unfulfilled dreams.But the crop will grow only when the soil is ready.Don’t go begging for help,Phaedrus. It will come if it has to come.You can’t badger people around reminding them of a pact once made. Maybe you just need to grow up.Most importantly, you cannot term them as selfish.People are parts of each others dreams.Remember and underline the word ‘part’. Not entirely. You play your part and then move on.

In popular usage, the word “selfishness” is a synonym of evil; the image it
conjures is of a murderous brute who tramples over piles of corpses to
achieve his own ends, who cares for no living being and pursues nothing but
the gratification of the mindless whims of any immediate moment.
Yet the exact meaning and dictionary definition of the word “selfishness”
is: concern with one’s own interest.

The Fool: Once I thought myself master of my life; lord of my fate,who could do what I pleased and would always succeed.I was as a crowned king till I met him, and now I am an exile and outcast and despised.

Phaedrus: I just wanted dreams to be fulfilled. These dreams were sincere. How can you just watch someone drown? The coxswain needs the Captain to give him the directions. Do not mistake the coxswain to be hapless and spineless. He can handle it once the path is all straight and clear. But this pernicious turn is scary and he can’t afford to crash into the dock this time. The ship has to steer the right way this time. It would be a mess if it doesn’t. The wreckage would never be built again. It will all go waste. How can the Captain just watch him drown?

But he is a recalcitrant fool who wanted to do it all alone..says the Captain. The coxswain is verbal about all things under the sun but shies away when it comes to asking for assistance and for someone to take authority.No time for randomness anymore.The discipline needs to be watched over continuously.The Captain has to take control no matter how obstinate the kid seems to be.Take control and continue doing so without being asked to.But I don’t want the Captain to be obliged to do so.Do it if you want to.Do it if it is important. Do it if you really care. The aim is to sail on new waters.About time to bid farewell to the backwaters. It’s coming on the end of August…

Alter Ego : Hmm, you are indeed incorrigible. You still expect somebody to take charge of the situation and continue doing so even without mentioning it?? People don’t care beyond a certain point. You are on your own mostly. You are just being a fool…again n again n again.

The Fool beams as AE feels Phaedrus is turning into him.

Phaedrus ( looks at The Fool..) : This is not a compliment. There are thousands of reasons why I should not expect the Outlet to be the passage to my dream but I go back to where it all started. Back to square one. Back to saying…I have always loved wholeheartedly and I wonder why people don’t?

Alter Ego : The unsaid love you talk about is rare.. almost non-existent. Each man on his own is the only truth.By the way, how come you are repelled by the free advice and “help” offered to you by many?? Hahaaha. How do you differentiate between genuine help and otherwise?

Phaedrus: Not funny. They are the ones who need help. Watch the eyes ,I was once told. I just do that. I have learnt many a lesson under the starless sky from a place three storied high.

Alter Ego : Till mean things put on beauty like a dress
And all the world was an enchanted place
And then methought outside a fast locked gate
I mourned the loss of unrecorded words,
Forgotten tales and mysteries half said
Wonders that might have been articulate
And voiceless thoughts like murdered singing birds
And so I woke and knew that he was dead.

Phaedrus: Lines from the Deat Poet?? I have not given up yet. I will complete the poem even of I have to do it all by myself but the absence of the poet will be felt.

The Fool : Outlet with a capital letter O all over the place….typo??

Phaedrus : I ain’t stupid and it ain’t a typo.It has to be in capital letter.Don’t even bother to figure it out or ask for an explanation.Of Ad hominem they accuse me…little do they understand that it has always been about the person and not his speech.I just watched the eyes and trusted. I did as told.