Rejection Phobia - A Typical Male Syndrome

Blind dates, long distance affairs, telephonic relations, pen friends, childhood crushes and a typical male behind them all! Everyone is unique, every man is different. Yet, the fear of rejection always lurks like an inevitable shadow around an urban man. So, let’s find out more about this typical male syndrome.

Ex Girlfriends, Ghosts and That Secret Potion of Desire

Sweet melodies of yesteryears often soothe his soul. Confused past, hazy memoirs and long drives in his father’s old gypsy illuminates his apartment. The shadows of his ex girlfriends keep haunting him. Those larger than life greeting cards, those soft toys, those bracelets, those watches, those letters are locked inside his closet. Time changes, feelings evolve, old friends reunites. The air never remains the same.

How to Tweet Like Jim Morrison

Microblogging! The new addition to the content hungry universe is making everyone bit crazy. Some people are investing hefty sum of money to gain followers, some folks tweeting extra sensible quotes, some individuals trying to be little humorous, the celebrities gaining millions of followers overnight and some people are still dazed. They retweet, copy paste some old quotations, sometimes news and views and most of the times they just keep gazing at the time line without having any words to write.

Bedroom Story - What Indian Women Want In Bed?

Indian women are flawless, intelligent and wild in bed. They know the art of taming a wild stallion, they knows the magic of weaving a satisfying tale. Everyone is unique and every girl has their priorities.

Winter Loneliness - Why Loneliness is Ecstatic?

The music of David Gilmour (On an Island) is creating a dreamlike ambience; the loner is busy writing his chronicle in his studio apartment, he is capturing the ecstasy of being lonely in an overcrowded city. He is mutely inhaling the drifting joy and the lingering silence, he is growing from within, he is catching the stars, and he is alive…

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Sunday, February 28, 2010

Writing Is My First Love

The road is shaky, little hazy and full of darkness but there is always a bright light at the end of the tunnel. The writer is walking alone in a path and he is not trembling but only moving forward. He is fighting with reality, he is escaping from the cruelties, he is no more running for materialism. He is trying to live without food and water; he is trying to survive with his writing.

Why are you wasting your time? Why are you staying in your illusions? Why are you so numb? I have no answers because I think I have fallen deeply in love with words. I can feel my inner voice through my writings. Fast paced life, dilapidated existence and a lonely soul with his unrecognised ideas is moving forward slowly.

There is no feeling of suffocation when he writes. There is bliss all round him when scribbles. His imaginations transport him to a world of his own. A writer feels pain, he feels lust, and he feels everything that’s humane. The society dumps him, friends ignore him and parents hardly call him. The road is shaky, little hazy and full of darkness but there is a bright light at the end of the tunnel. There is a deep pain inside him, there is unknown craving for something that he don’t know.

His writings aren’t profound, his words aren’t best sellers, and his ideas about life are crazy. Sometimes he feels quitting everything and sometimes he is so very part of everything. His mind revolves around so many things. There are confusions all around him. Oh! Is it the beauty of writing or just foolish thoughts of a nonsense babbler? How to make everyone understand the beauty of feeling something and expressing them with words? How to make people understand and visualise the soul of a writer? How to make everything so real in a fairytale? There are questions, there are hardly any answers but the scribbler isn’t alone. There are like-mind people all around.

I hate to be philosophical; I hate to talk profound things because I think the beauty of life lies in its simplicity. I am not running from the big world where there are so many intellectual people, I am not trying to run from people who are better than me in every aspect- I am just trying to convey the magnificence of something that may be so out of the world for the outside world. Everything should be supported by facts but how many facts are real? Writing isn’t only a soul healing thing; it’s something much more higher than that. Why are you writing when you don’t have anything to deliver? Why are you scribbling your useless thoughts? Why are you creating a world of imagination all around? Sometimes an author is misunderstood because he scribbles down everything that is yet to be revealed in the society. Sometimes he falls under a trap of people who hardly understands the purpose of writing. Writing is my first love because there is nothing better than a freedom of expression. Writing is my first love because I can do everything with my thoughts. Sometimes they become so dark and sometimes they are so very active. The road is shaky, little hazy and full of darkness but there is always a bright light at the end of the tunnel that keeps a writer alive.


Thursday, February 25, 2010

Is Blogging A Waste Of Time?




Someone told me yesterday that I waste my time scribbling and blogging. Is blogging a waste of time? The answer is definitely no. Blaming people who thinks like that can be extremely difficult because they hardly understand the blogging mechanics. They are realistic souls with a minimal online presence. They’ve zero social skills and they live an old fashioned life. I can’t blame them because they are ignorant about the latest happenings. Charging them for their disheartening comments would be rude on my part. I am no soothsayer nor I am a brilliant writer- I am just another blogger.

Is Blogging A Waste Of Time?

Waiting for answers…


Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Belly Dancer

 



She sways her body with a divine pain
She is packed with flesh and a heavenly grace
There is some kind of comfort all around
She walks with the moonlight and communicates with the stars.
She sways her body without a sigh

The night is dark, and the room is empty
Raindrops falling from her body
Her perfume smells so cosy
Her curves exudes beauty
She sways her body with a divine pain
There is some kind of comfort all around

The wind was silent
Someone was knocking heavily
Someone was watching her divine body

She was looking pretty that night
Her curled tresses were a sheer delight
She was swaying her body
She was feeling the pain
She was drunk without wine

The night is dark, and the room is empty
Raindrops falling from her body
Her perfume smells so cosy
Her curves exudes beauty

She is flying, she is grinning
She is shouting without a clamour
Raindrops rolling down through her healthy curves
Her thighs freezing….
The wind was little silent that night
She sways her body with a divine pain
There is some kind of comfort all around

The belly dancer is no more alive
Her body no more sways like a dream
Her curves no more exudes bliss
As her solitude was invaded that lonely night.
Her silent ache was never heard...


Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Poetry and Reality – Facts about a Poetic Life Unveiled

 

Reality is all about facts and figures while poetry is all about self gratification, pain, love and surrealism. Reality pulls you back while poetry makes you fly. You keep juggling between your thoughts and your action. There is profoundness, there is hope, there is lust in poetry but there are only truths and lies in the world of reality. You are sandwiched between them and finally you choose one. You love to be in your reality because that gives you everything that you want. Intruding more into imagination can be dangerous. It can make you somewhat an alien in world where everything is so real. Yet, some people love to stay in a world of their own. A self created kingdom where they get everything they desire. They are not insane rather they are the sanest beings because they feel life from within. They smile, they cry and finally they fly. The wings of imagination can take them to place where they see nightingales. They get seduced by their dreams. They are poets, writers, artists and musicians. They are the people who entertains you, makes you smile and cry. They are the creators. They know the art of molding realities into beautiful tales of hope.

Facts about a Poetic Life Unveiled


Oh music! Every time you feel sad, every time you become happy, every time when you feel nothing – music comes to your rescue. It makes you feel better. You get transported to world where everything looks so fine and a poetic life is all about feeling the unseen facets of life through your vivid thoughts. You can choose it anytime.

Broken hearts, unseen existence and loneliness exude poetry. Sometimes you love to stay alone. Sometimes you love to stay disconnected.  Reality keeps knocking your door but you just ignore them. Your silence becomes your weapon and then you write- you scribble, you sing, you dance, you do everything.

Poetic life is not only about loneliness, beauty, dreams, music and heart breaks. It can be a life of extreme passion. It can be so full of introspection. You have nothing to lose. You gain many things including life’s hidden offerings. There is so much love here. You’ll find everybody smiling and caressing each other in a poetic life. You will find bliss. But you can’t stay here throughout your life because there is a life outside your imaginations, there are people outside your house, there are opportunities knocking your door. Poetry is momentary but reality is so very everlasting. Escaping from reality mayn’t be so easy. In an ever changing world, a poet is just like a foolish babbler who keeps blabbering and nobody ever listens to him because he talks crazy, he lives in his insanity, he rejects reality and eventually he becomes a loner. So, in order to live life, we have to drink poetry as well as face reality with equal ease. There is so much love so little time and so much work to do…

Thanks reality and poetry for visiting my life. I am blessed to have you both.


Keep reading…






Monday, February 22, 2010

The Rise of a Geek – Facts about Geeks Unveiled


Geeks Are Sane was my previous article and now it’s the rise of a Geek. It feels great to write about them because they are rising and only rising without turning back. Earlier they were termed as loners, nerds, mad but now they are prayed and followed. They are becoming conspicuous like never before. From fashion to Hollywood, from politics to your living room – Geeks are everywhere. They are on a prowl to make this world a better place to live in. They are no more bullied by their friends for spending hell lot of time in social networking sites. They are making their presence felt in the fast changing world.

Facts about Geeks Unveiled

Earlier they had no girlfriends, earlier they were loners but now they are millionaires swimming in the vast ocean of money.  Geeks are no more termed as losers who waste time in useless things like playing games online. They are the king of the real as well as the virtual world. They are the future CEOs and vice presidents. They are the trendsetters. Oh! Even Geek fashion is making waves all around. The nerd look is no more disliked by girls. Every woman loves to hang around with a geek now because they find them sexy. That’s a reality.

The world is becoming geeky. Their obsession is becoming tomorrow’s invention. They are even respected by their parent now. Now you can’t live without technology and people behind them are no less a geek, a mad man or a neglected guy once. He is all smiling because he knows the world is listening to him at last.

Gone are days of manly boys with only brawn. It’s the era of geek. Nothing is so conventional now. They look snazzy, they look different but still they are surrounded by eves because they have all the power. Oh gosh! We are so lucky to be a part of the geek generation where everything looks so fine, so fast and so geeky!


Sunday, February 21, 2010

Tucked Away

Sunday mornings are always so rejuvenating. Smokes of freshness make you so charged up. You feel like dancing without a reason. You smile and finally see yourself. Oh! You praise your beauty, you pamper yourself and eventually you smile. Sunday mornings can be so refreshing.

Every weekend is different. Sometimes you feel all alone and the very next moment you are surrounded by friends. Sometimes you feel so low and the very next moment your loved ones make you so comfortable. There is nothing called monotony. There is so much action going around. The beauty of life lies in its simplicity. The more you try to run away – the more exciting it becomes. After all you are a part of this beautiful world. You are not alone my dear friend. There are souls around you who can caress you without a reason; there is freshness all around you.

The vivid colours of life are at its best when you feel it from inside. You are unique and your exclusivity is your strength. Sunday mornings are always so rejuvenating. Smokes of freshness make you so charged up.

No, you can’t hide away in a world where everything is so bright. No, you can’t escape from a planet which brings happiness along with pain. No, you can’t be lonely my dear friend. Whenever you feel sad and shed those unseen tears just remember that someone is crying too for you. It’s very easy to break a relationship but it’s extremely difficult to stay in a relation. Sunday morning gives you time to reconnect with people who make you smile in your sadness, it’s the time to show them some love. It’s time to smile.

Tucked away in a corner of his world, a boy in his 20s is smiling because he is feeling the fragrance, he can see a bright light motivating him, he can see you smiling but he can’t feel any discomfort as all his dull pain flew away with time…
   

Keep Reading….


Saturday, February 20, 2010

The Mechanics of the Heart

                                                   
                                 (A guest post by anonymous)

It's the story of a man who had broken wings but forgot he had legs. He kept flying in his imagination thinking his two legs were useless in his imaginary world.

He spent days by his window pane, watching all these mechanical hearts wandering in the streets but he once saw a human silhouette walking away. He wanted to call her but he was voiceless after so many years without talking. He tried to get off his seat but he was unable to stand up as his legs were no longer strong enough to support his body. He could not believe he had missed that one human he had been waiting for so long.

He now wished he was a normal human being, able to speak and run, run towards this woman whom he now wondered whether she was real or a mere shadow emerging from his fantasy. All of a sudden he understood he had become no more than a cyber man, living in his imagination...

He wanted it to stop, he wanted to be 'human' again but he wondered whether it was too late or not. He started thinking about two mechanical legs that could help him out with his handicap. He thus called a taxi. A cyborg drove him to hospital where another cyborg took care of him. As it was rare to see a human in there, the chief cyborg doctor decided it was an emergency case. In a few hours, John came out with new mechanical legs and a louder voice - thanks to a miniature speaker transplant. Unexpectedly, he felt so more human and lively with all these ‘high-tech grafts’. He decided to take a walk in the city. Mechanical hearts didn't bother him anymore, after all what was the point of being real if you only lived in your imagination?

It was now lunch time and he sat in one of these cyber-eating places where cyborgs ate things they could not taste, just to act as humans. Yet John could spot a woman with a grin on her face, which made him realize she could actually taste how bad the food was, contrary to cyborgs. He thus stood up and came up to talk to her. He introduced himself as 'John Golem' and asked if she would have a drink with him, on which she agreed.


She happened to have never walked down his street, so there was no chance she was the charming silhouette he had seen earlier on that morning. Yet he could not but rejoice at this charming moment they were sharing and could not wait to see her again. They exchanged email addresses and eventually parted.

A few days later, they met again. John had not stopped thinking about her. He wanted to know if he had feelings for her though this sounded a little old-fashioned in a world where partners were sorted out by a sophisticated computer programme. He felt that he needed to touch her to know if any true affection was at stake. Anyway they went to the movie theatre and saw an old romantic movie from 2010. During a romantic scene he tried to take her hand but her fingers fled, so he thought she was not interested. When they went out, she said there were things he needed to know about her.

She was no cyborg but she had had a heart transplant on the  day  she was born, otherwise she could not have been able to live. She knew how little John thought of -what he called- mechanical hearts and she wondered whether he would still like her after learning the truth.

John felt bewildered as he never thought such a sweet human being could rely on an artificial heart. All things considered he came to the conclusion that no matter a heart was artificial or not, it was how it worked that counted.

That said, he realised he had parted from love for too long now, his heart had become rusty and emotion-proof. He could feel the lady’s affection but was unable to respond to it. He was left alone with two great mechanical legs, a loud mechanical voice and a real heart that no longer worked properly. He was no more than an avatar desperately running after his heart's shadow.

Nb: This is the first science fiction story I have ever written, tribute to Pallav’s 2090 Dreamer  who inspired it.


Friday, February 19, 2010

Frozen Reminiscences of an Avid Dreamer - 2090

Invisible existence, broken wings and there are confusions all around me. There is numbness, there is darkness and there are some shadows of those frozen reminiscences. Some people love to walk alone; some people love to walk with a partner and some people love walking with their hidden shadows. You feel nothing, you just become numb. There was a man who was always appreciated and cared. There was a man who was always amid laughter. There was man who never saw pain. Yes, it’s the story of that man.

December 2090, New Delhi, India….Delhi was freezing that day (minus 50 degrees). He was going through some unpublished manuscripts. He was actually trying to burn them with his electronic lighter. Nobody knows what was written there. Nobody ever visited his apartment from last 30 years. He is wearing a jacket which shows his age, time, and his current status that’s “invisible”. He is trying to laugh but his freezing jaws were preventing him to smile even. He is thinking something which nobody can predict. Finally, he managed to burn all his documents. All chips gone – he said to himself. Finally he is free from all those painful memories. His heartbeats slowed down suddenly. He was flying with joy in his private gadget. He can see the whole town from up above now. He can see some machines, he can see some artificial trees, he can see some floating flyovers, he can seen some robots but he was unable to locate any human with two legs, two hands and two eyes. It seems nothing was left. There were fake playgrounds with animated statues. The man started laughing again…He was flying in his private instrument. He was no more sitting and thinking in his old apartment.

Invisible existence, broken wings and there are confusions all around me. There is numbness, there is darkness and there are some shadows of those frozen reminiscences – The man said to himself. He tried to laugh but his mouth was frozen, he tried to smile instead which he finally managed to do. He was flying that day to look around him and unfortunately he couldn’t spot any human. He was only one left without a mechanical heart and an animated avatar. That was the story of an avid dreamer who kept flying in his private gadget called dream, that was the story of that man who always felt life from within…


Keep reading ;)

Image courtesy: David Parfitt


Wednesday, February 17, 2010

4 Mistakes of My Life


Another mistake! People love to commit mistakes till the time they don’t get back them in return. Blunders are often made by the sanest people on earth. They are even repeated again and again. The cycle continues and I am not an exception. People hardly learn from their errors. It may sound weird but the fact is nobody cares about their mistakes. In a world where everything depends upon data analysis, there is no room for those emotional fools who loves to work according to their whims and fancies.

You aren’t Jim Morrison. Your thoughts and feelings won’t be recognized till the time you become acknowledged. You are just a piece of draft without a publisher. You are a living moron if you want to change the world. Everybody can’t become Dalai Lama. You aren’t a superman who can save humanity from falling. You aren’t a joker either who can destroy civilization. You are just another being who is on the process of metamorphosis. Wait! You’re yet to be reviewed. Mistakes committed by you are blunders. They are of no use. Come down my dear friend, you’ve a long way to go. Yes, these are facts which keep annoying everybody every now and then.

4 Mistakes of My Life

Sleeping:  Everybody thinks sleeping is a sheer waste of time but I never thought like that because I tried to visualise my dreams. They sometimes look so real, so close and so beautiful. I love sleeping and that’s my first mistake. Opportunities knocked my door and I kept sleeping. I kept dreaming. You just can’t rectify your habits. It comes from within. Everybody from my parent to my friends tried to push me but my sleeping habits never left me. Oh bliss! Sleeping is obviously my first mistake and I know I can’t solve this problem.

Multitasking: You may be a versatile man but you should avoid doing everything simultaneously. Nothing comes easily my dear friend. You’ve to be an expert not an apprentice always. Learning many things can ruin your life. The focal point of success lies in your expertise. Yet, repeating mistakes has become an everyday activity for me. I don’t know what I want basically. Being confused and clueless is my second mistake.

Introvert: Open up man. Yes, being an introvert after an unsuccessful attempt for my NDA (National Defence Academy) exam made me a rock. Sometimes some incidents in your life leave a mark badly and that happened to me too. Joining India Army was my dream which was never fulfilled and hence I became a dreamer who kept sleeping. Now I thank God for everything because that was a real eye opener. My shyness is a gift from my disappointment. Oh! You should always have an alternative in your life, in your career otherwise you’ll be nowhere. Therefore I am no more fighting in the glaciers in my dreams now. I am wide awake. That was a passing phase may be which made me realise my mistakes.

Repeating Mistakes: Sometimes repeating mistakes can be such an involuntary action. You don’t feel like committing them but eventually you make another gaffe. Some people learn from their mistakes and others just keep repeating them and that’s  life which just moves on with and without your mistakes…

Keep reading :)


Tuesday, February 16, 2010

You Are Such a Good Friend of Mine

Teenage love stories, chocolates, flowers, long drives in your dad’s old gypsy, larger than life cards, love songs and a feeling of yore. You are such a good friend of mine is a common phrase mostly used my girls. The innocence of a teenage romance is obviously the best thing in the world but how far these relationships survive in the long run where everything changes and transforms. The so-called geek in your school becomes the real heartthrob, the hottest girl in your college becomes fat, and the most intelligent guy next door becomes an unrecognised thinker. Time changes, everything changes and you keep wondering and sailing sometimes smiling. You can never predict anything in a world where everything is so momentary.

There is so much money, lust and so less love. Everything looks superficial. You are such a good friend of mine is mostly used when someone needs something very badly now. You are not my friend later. Hah! That’s reality. There is moment when your phone doesn’t stop ringing and there is a moment of complete silence. You never knew when you have turned into a use me box.


There is an unanswered question in every teenager’s mind. There is passion and there is drive to make it big someday. They love like an animal. As I have said earlier – There is no room for mundane. They want instant gratification, instant coffee and  instant love. You can’t ignore their existence now as they can create storm with just one tweet. Everything is so viral.

Actually there is nothing wrong in making useful friends. Some boys use girls like clothes while some boys are used like a money minting machine. The process of use and throw is increasing. You are such a good friend if you can take her for long drives; you are such a good friend if you can pass that message to her boyfriend. Oh! God, guys hate listening these words. They mostly fall in love with their best friend. They are so very useless. Some boys are fun, some boys are little less fun and some boys are just use me boxes. The third category is rarely found though. So, be careful whenever a girl say that you are such a good friend. Yet, some girls do mean everything they say. In a world where everything is so materialistic, there are people who really care for you, who really care for your existence, who really mean what they say. Some people do leave a mark in your life. You Are Such a Good Friend of Mine looks real in their words…



Please reply :)


Sunday, February 14, 2010

Urban Queen Again…

 



Oh! There is a pain inside
Echoing from deep within
There is darkness all around
Her spirit is annoying me
She is smiling, she is grinning
She is dancing in her white sari
Oh! There is a pain inside
Echoing from deep within

The time is no more same
All leaves are gone
Only thorns all around
No more chirping
Only that implausible silence
Her spirit is annoying me
She is smiling, she is grinning

The moon is cursing
Stars are no more seen
The void is increasing
She is smiling, she is no more dancing
Oh! There is a pain inside
Echoing from deep within

Thunder, lightening, owls, bats
Earthquakes, tsunamis, blasts
There is a lull looming around
Her spirit is annoying me
She is smiling, she is grinning
She is dancing in her white sari
Oh! There is a pain inside
Echoing from deep within

The pace of my heart is increasing
The way it is pacing is killing me
The void is increasing
She is smiling; she is no more dancing…

There she comes again
White shadows, invisible vibe around her
Leaves starts falling
Earth started shaking
Smokes, ashes and some burning flames
She walks away without a sigh
She walks away again without an indication
She's a queen, no more to be seen
She's a queen, the one of my spleen
She's a queen forever in my dream
She is my urban queen…


The Mechanical Man


Sharp eyes, accurate movements, dramatic nods
He is moving with a permanent grin
He is the master, he is the slave
He is completing his tasks with grace…

He is playing pianos, he is driving
The mechanical man is all smiling
He is prowling, invading and laughing
Sharp eyes, accurate movements, dramatic nods
He is moving with a permanent grin

He is producing babies
His population is increasing and increasing
The mechanical man is all smiling
Sharp eyes, accurate movements, dramatic nods
He is trying to make everyone his own…
He is prowling, invading and laughing

No batteries, no wires, no remotes
He can walk without any support
He is rising, rising and only rising….
The mechanical man is all smiling.

He is uncontrollable, he is undefeated
He is the ozymandias and the master of all.
Sharp eyes, accurate movements, dramatic nods
He is moving with a permanent grin
He is producing babies
His population is mounting

He can’t love, he can’t write poetry, he can’t feel
He isn’t the master or a slave
He is just an egoistic machine without a soul.
Sharp eyes, accurate movements, dramatic nods
He is moving with a superficial grin
The android isn’t living…
He is just existing and dying.


Friday, February 12, 2010

The Rise Of Social Media Quotes

Thinkers, writers, poets, musicians, artists, dancers, astronauts, doctors, geeks, lovers – almost everyone is connected now. The social media landscape is rising and rising at a light speed. Everyone is scribbling. Everyone is tweeting and almost everyone is thinking something unique. In order to acknowledge those modern social media thinkers, Gary Hayes built a unique widget that features 1000 quotes. They are actually tweets and status updates that speak volume. I was extremely delighted to see this gadget, which is creating storm everywhere. So let’s explore the world of words through this widget.



Nameless Subway - Midnight Tale

Flashy streetlights, hazy dreams and some coins – the story starts from nothing. No clubbing, no rides, no phone calls, no existence. His eyes were wide awake and he was walking.  The cold breeze was touching his cheeks, he can seen cars passing at light speed. He is just moving with a heavy heart. He can see some woman calling him from distance, he can see his old friends tweeting him in his cell phone, and he can see an old man smiling at him. Everything is getting hazier and hazier. Something was missing that night as he can’t see those familiar faces. Everyone was a stranger for him. Flashy streetlights, hazy dreams and some coins – He was walking fast, he was running. Suddenly his cell phone was flooded with messages; he was getting so many calls that night. What is happening? Why everything so eerie that night?



Suddenly he can see blood all around him but he couldn’t see the corpses. He can see a man in his 60s smiling at him and offering him some coins. Take these coins my dear – the old man said. He denied taking them but the man forcefully gave him. He said to keep them because he will need them. He couldn’t understand anything. What’s going wrong? I am not reaching my destination that night. He started running. His blood was freezing. He was unable to move too fast.



Flashy streetlights, hazy dreams and some coins – Oh! My god, why the hell I am not moving? I am still at the same place? He started feeling suffocated as if somebody is trying to kill him. He is running towards his destination – his hotel where he plays drum. Oh finally I can see my hotel – the boy said. Suddenly a loud noise was heard. Everything was gone in a few seconds. It was a bomb blast that took place in his hotel that night. Everybody died except the boy. He was late to his hotel because of his friends who constantly kept messaging him without a reason, he was late because the old man forced him to take the coins, and he was delayed because he came through that nameless subway. Flashy streetlights, hazy dreams and some coins – the air was different that night….

 


Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Urban Queen

 

Smokes, ashes and some burning flames
She is surrounded by some incredible pain
Memories flying all around
And she is just moving like a broken dream

Stopping, feeling and just moving on
Smokes, ashes and some burning flames
She is surrounded by some incredible pain

January, February…..December…January again!
She is hallucinating, dreaming and moving on
She smiles without a soul

Her body exudes bliss, her hands smell good
She is the queen of darkness
And a mystery for the unknown

She vanishes, appears and vanishes again
Dark clouds, empty streets and some missing links
Again she is alone...

She walks in the rain
She waits for another pain
She flies, she whines, she falls every time
Her body exudes bliss, her hands smell good
Her legs tremble, her body shivers
She disappears again…

Why she is gazing, feeling and just moving on?
Is this anonymity or sheer musings of an urban queen?
Smokes, ashes and some burning flames
She is surrounded by some incredible pain...






Tuesday, February 09, 2010

Valentine's Day Story - Lyrical Yet Deep!

Ouch! Heartbreaks…The story begins from here. Every new beginning starts from a hopeless end and every end signifies a new beginning. The ghost no more haunts us as we become sane with each passing day. This Valentine’s Day is all about you, me and the other. People are talking about love; they are buying flowers and chocolates and doing what not to impress their valentine. Poets are composing poems and singers humming their favourite song. There is a lot of movement going on. Oh! Love is in the air – they say.

Colleges, streets, restaurants, pubs, discotheques, food stalls and of course our neighbourhood parks are looking so lively now. Ouch! Heartbreaks…Yes there are lonely hearts too who is also feeling the heat. They are drinking and smoking more, they are still living in their reminiscences. They want to stay like that still someone else walks in. Oh! Every phase is so momentary. The passing phases, the deep chapters and those ugly times do create drama in your life. There is no room from mundane.

Who is your valentine this year? Sounds funny but the fact is that everybody is not lucky enough to celebrate this special day with the same person every year. Everything changes with time. Some people walk away from your life without a whisper and some people stay with you without a reason. There is so much love around. There is so much hate around too. But the fact is that nobody remains happy or unhappy throughout life. Some songs are hummable while some are not; some books are classics while some are not. Oh Pain- Is it still there? This Valentine’s Day is different because we are feeling. Let’s flaunt some more smiles, let’s embrace happiness, let’s forget the song of darkness, let’s not waste this lyrical Valentine’s Day…Let’s celebrate!
  


Monday, February 08, 2010

A Prisoner in My Dream


He is running from bullets
Jumping and falling into ditch
He is struggling to walk
He is somewhere lost…

Someone is chasing him
Someone is trying to touch him
Yet, he is there struggling
His legs were freezing
His body was numb
His heart was heavy
He is struggling to run…

The air was little bad that night
The hour of darkness wasn’t leaving him.
He is trapped somewhere…
It was a dream inside a dream.
   
He is running from bullets
Jumping and falling into ditch
He is struggling to walk
He is somewhere lost…

He can see blurred images,
An old town and strangers all around.
He is no more running from bullets
No more jumping and falling into ditch
But he is struggling to walk
He is somewhere lost…

The darkness began to fade
As he was interrupted
The table clock rings…
And his hands were no more in his chest

The air was little bad that night
The hour of darkness wasn’t leaving him.
He was trapped somewhere…
He was dreaming inside a dream….


Sunday, February 07, 2010

Jim Morrison Is Alive

8 December 1943, Jim Morrison came to this planet. He sang, wrote and went away. Jim Morrison is alive. Yes, his shadows are followed, and prayed. He is the greatest songwriter and poet of all time. Everyday I read Wilderness volume 1 which motivates and inspires me but I never got a chance to write about it. So here I am writing today.

Every morning I read his poetry and every night I think about his poetry. They are so plain, so simple yet so profound. He is the greatest American poet. I wear his T-shirt and I feel him. The moment I feel sad, I read “Wilderness”. It soothes my soul. He sings like a dream and writes like an insane. His poems give me a feeling of trance without a glass of wine.

He says – a quality of ignorance, self deception may be necessary to the poet’s survival. He says-Each day is a drive through history.

Jim’s poetry doesn’t say anything, it just gives you an indication of all possibilities. It opens up new vistas for you to choose and walk in. There is surrealism, mystery, love and lust in his writings. There is a sense of freedom. There is everything actually. You can’t ignore his writing because they don’t speak to you, they just intrude inside you. Oh! Jim you are so alive at least in my living room. I can feel you, hear you and smell you.

He is the king of the cult generation. He is the soul of every young man and woman. His pictures inspire me and his thoughts don’t let me sleep. I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and read his Wilderness. Some people die so young, some leaves their mark within a short time and they walks away without a whisper. Why genuine souls like him don’t stay long? Why they just fade away so quickly? I want to see Jim Morrison and meet him. His poetry is not enough for me. I just want to be like him. Yes, for me Jim Morrison is alive. I can’t believe that he is dead and gone.

Hey wherever you are. Whatever you are now may be. Just remember someone is praying and following you every morning, every night…















Image courtesy: Ice Basit


Saturday, February 06, 2010

Story of a Young Lady


The sky was slowly becoming darker. The evening was turning into night and the young lady was waiting. The wind started blowing; there are was no one around. Her curvaceous body became conspicuous in the rain. She was a wearing a red saree. She was waiting for someone. Her drenched body was looking irresistible that night.  After 1 hour, she was found dead. She was waiting for someone I guess. What is her story?

Her name was Nandini. She was the most vibrant girl in her college. She is bit talkative; she is intelligent and loves to fly without wings. She loves winter.

That day Nandini was alone. Suddenly, someone gave her a letter. I love you Nandini- Julia. Yes, the letter was actually written by her girl friend Julia. They were in love. They courted for 3 long years but Julia decided to get married to a guy.

Nandini’s life broke into pieces. She was shattered and finally she was admitted to a rehabilitation centre. The story of her doesn’t end here. She came out of the situation within a year. She became normal but her love for Julia was still alive. She wrote many letters to her but got no replies. Suddenly her life took a new turn. She met Rohit. They became friends and finally they got married.

The story of Nandini can’t be so simple. Yes, Nandini met Julia once again and their love for each other revived. They started meeting each other and finally Rohit caught them one day. Three lives were destroyed.


After one year…Julia committed suicide and Rohit got remarried. Where is Nandini?

The sky was slowly becoming darker. The evening was turning into night. She was waiting. The wind started blowing; there are was no one around. Her curvaceous body became conspicuous in the rain. Her drenched body was looking irresistible that night. She was wearing a red colored saree. She was waiting for someone. After 1 hour, she was found dead. The lady was a sex worker who got killed by a truck. She is not Nandini. Where is she then?

Help me to find her. Where is she? Please do reply. The perfect ending will be published in my next post with due credits.

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Friday, February 05, 2010

Sailing, Sailing and Sailing On….

 

I don't know what to write and what not to. There is surrealism all around me. I am feeling good as well as bad. I am feeling happy as well as sad. I don't know with whom I am talking to. I don't know for whom I am feeling. I am just wondering like a nomad soul. Hated, loved, and cursed. Sometimes the perplexity motivates me because there are sweet souls around.

It gives me divine joy. I am sailing, sailing and sailing on. I am coming towards the shore but I am going deeper, I am not running rather I am intruding more. The air around me is charming yet indifferent. Sometimes I wake up, sometimes I sleep. Hazy ideas, simple English and a foolish babbler singing his cacophonous song from some distant corner of the world. I don’t know what I am scribbling. I don’t know how poetic it is… I don’t know how good I am or how bad I may be. I don’t know who loves me and who doesn’t. I am just dreaming, dreaming and dreaming. Poetry is lust and lust is poetry. It’s a lyrical addiction. I want to go deep, I want to go deeper.


There is silence, there is love, there is hope, and there is a soul. Love tales, fashionable dresses and some solid pain. Oh! There are so much here still there is so less there. Writing is ecstasy. The joy scribbling can be so satiating. Writing without a purpose sometimes makes me happy. There are something missing here and there but you can easily gather the broken pieces together. The prose is ready but the poetry isn’t fine. Childish words and foolish thoughts, why everything isn’t crystal clear. I am not writing anything for you tonight, I am not writing anything for me too. I am just sailing, sailing and sailing on. My thoughts are my wings and my words are my warheads. I am no more alone, I am no more sad. The night is getting darker; the wind is freezing, dogs barking, cats meowing and a foolish man whispering. He is thinking, falling and sailing….


Thursday, February 04, 2010

Vampires and the Valley Of Darkness

 

The streets are empty
The night is deep
The beetles buzz
And white owls weep
Here he comes
Here he comes
Over the valley, through the rain
Flying, stopping and flying again


Someone mutely whispers in her ears,
Her deep eyes filled up with tears.
The room is empty, devoid of light.
She was alone in that bemused night.

The streets are empty
The night is deep
The beetles buzz
And white owls weep
Here he comes
Here he comes
Over the valley, through the rain
Flying, stopping and flying again


She wakes up, wears her gown
Walks in her corridor
She moves with passion
She dances like a bird in the breeze…

The streets are empty
The night is deep
The beetles buzz
And white owls weep
Here he comes
Here he comes
Over the valley, through the rain
Flying, stopping and flying again

She kisses herself, touches her lips
Plays with her curls
She moves her body like a dream…
I am the vampire and you are my prey tonight…
She whispers in his ears.

In the valley of darkness, there are no vampires
There are only ardent lovers…

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

Darren Rowse – Blogger Extraordinaire – The Story of Darren Rowse

 
 
I know you love blogging, I know you love writing, and I even know that you’re a fighter. The story of Darren Rowse is different. It’s not an ordinary tale because he is not an ordinary man. Who is Darren Rowse? Well, he is a dreamer, writer, geek, and a photographer. He is the undaunted king of the blogging world. If you are new here than you should definitely visit his superb blog called Problogger. Every writer needs audience and appreciation. It’s like his or her bread and butter. Without a spectator you are nothing but a foolish babbler. Sometimes you feel clueless because your mind gets suffocated. Suddenly, you forget to write. You forget to think too and eventually you hate yourself for being a writer. Your dilapidated existence becomes a shadow. Nobody cares to understand you. Don’t worry it happens with everyone. Well, the man who went through all the pain of blogging knows the best. He knows every aspect of this new age fixation and that’s why he is Darren Rowse.

Blogger Extraordinaire – The Story of Darren Rowse


The beauty of Darren Rowse writing lies in his simplicity. He knows his audience. His simple but effective English makes his copy extremely readable. He knows the art of delivering unlike many of us who fails to justify titles. The online world is growing at a light speed. Every one is coming so close. We are getting everything here. Our planet is really advancing towards a new beginning and Darren is someone who started this revolution. His every word is precious. It’s not only about making money; blogging is something that gives you a platform to flaunt your dreams.
   
It was the month of April, 2009, when I visited Problogger. I was following his posts since then. It’s extremely easy to get so much knowledge now. People like him are distributing knowledge without any charges. His site basically teaches about making money but I think he is also a great writer. He never writes a sales copy rather he interacts with his reader like a next door guy. His tone is definitely friendly. Everyone can relate to him because he was like us. Everyone can’t be a successful blogger or a successful writer but anyone can be a passionate dreamer. Sometimes your dreams become your obsession and sometimes an inspiration. Anything inspirational is soothing. Blogging is a baby now. It’s in its nascent stage. So, we should never miss an opportunity to feel its splendour.

Darren Rowse is definitely a man who will be remembered and followed. He is neither a guru nor an expert but he delivers what he feels. He is just like a guardian angel who keeps guiding us from some corner of the world. He stays in Australia but his presence is felt through out the globe. He was the man who gave opportunities to millions of people during recession to earn from their home. He is the one who is making the world a better place to live by teaching the art of blogging. Yes, he is definitely a blogger extraordinaire!

These are only my opinion. What’s your story? Do let me know :)


Monday, February 01, 2010

In The Journey Called Life

 

In the journey called life, there is nothing called destination. Everyone is just moving towards light somewhat hazy. There are small pebbles, little mud and some memories of yesteryears. There are heart aches, symphony, simplicity, perplexity and some genuine thoughts. There are friends, families and loneliness. There are shadows, miseries and dawn. In the journey called life everything is so different…

There are many things we love to do. We love to smile endlessly, we love to love, we love to write, we love to sing, and we love to fly. Sometimes we feel distressed without a reason and sometimes we feel happy again without a reason. In the journey called life everything is fair…

Sometimes you feel like dreaming, sometimes you feel like dreaming again. Sometimes you can’t stop yourself from expressing. You feel like a mocking bird flying in a deep blue sky, sometimes everything looks so lovely, so close, so real…In the journey called life everything is possible.

We will meet people, we lose them and again we meet them. We keep meeting our loved ones in a cycle. Some moments are filled with silence, some moments are filled with confusions but there are moments of glee too…In the journey called life, everything comes naturally….

Eating ice creams in a cold winter night, those evening gossip sessions with friends, tea and some samosas, long walks with someone special, writing letters at the middle of the night. In the journey called life everything happens without a reason…