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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Saturday, August 28, 2010

Eureka!




Gravitational force, Theory of relativity, Avogadro’s hypothesis, flying engine, may be a time machine, spy chip, these are hackneyed ideas….

So here’s something that’s going to blow your mind, make you say wow. It’s a 21st century 2050 innovation.

                                                                        

                                                                            Introducing

    

                                                                      The Mind Fuckir ©


What’s this?
A unique gadget that can make your brain fly to any part of the world, take pictures, make love and fuck greatest minds and come back with something called Back-dream.

What’s Back-dream?

Back-dream records your dreams during your brain travelling session. It gets credit for seducing the best genes.

What are best genes?

Best genes – people with very high emotional quotient, knowledge of literature, art, music, science, medicine.

How the Mind Fuckir work?

Mind Fuckir is only available to the selected few. They are generally gifted. The geeks will have them as I am going to distribute 5 Mind Fuckirs to 5 geeks like me. Slowly this gadget will multiply and one day there will be new breed called The Ultimate Mind Fuckirs.

Are you eligible for The Mind Fuckir? 





Friday, August 27, 2010

From The Dungeon...Insignificant Human Life


Sleeping, counting, and talking. The four walls of the living room are tired of watching an invalid soul. Between death and life, there’s a thin line which makes you stay awake in the middle of those painstakingly dark nights. There is a horror of dying, there is some unyielding calmness, there’s nothing around that can motivate you.

Hapless, cacophonous existence grows beyond control. The invisibility increases, your phone rings endlessly and you have nothing to talk.

After 7 long tiring days of isolation, you are finally released into the world (the greener one). You feel better now, your headaches gone, the temperature is gradually decreasing. You’re able to feel the peeping dawn.

Some people, some thoughts, some memories have gone down me. I am scribbling these because of them tonight. The journey won’t end abruptly for sure…


Wednesday, August 18, 2010

The Beauty of Written Words…





The sun goes down
The night crawls into your galaxy.
You walk tirelessly with your broken muse
You remember, you forget
You smile in your solitude…

Then some drops of rain makes it better
The symphony around soothes you
It wakes you up from your dream
You spread your wings
You just feel the benevolent sky…

You are transported to a world
Where your smiles are praised
You dance with the waft of breeze
Words give you company
You fly with them…

Some prose, some poetry, some memories
Keeps you busy, keeps you happy
They are like the melting snow,
They do salsa and jazz in your melancholy.
You’ve them, you possess them, you flaunt them.

And the journey continues…



Image courtesy: buildinternet.com



Tuesday, August 17, 2010

August Cloud…




Silent streets, faded chattering
The music of Eric Clapton
Playing in the backyard
Lazy afternoon, some books
The sunlight peeping through…

The fruit seller is shouting with glee
The apartment is half empty.
The watchmen is no more seen
The trees moving leisurely
There is so much peace.

Alone with my words
Trying to create poetry
The fragrance of lavender
Is so motivating me
My fingers endlessly moving through.


There’s nothing like a lazy afternoon
It’s intoxicating like the hemlock
You hear songs of nightingales
You fly like a mocking bird
That’s the beauty and luxury of an August Cloud…


 
image courtesy: www.ibiblio.org


Sunday, August 15, 2010

I Am Not a Poet…



Then who am I?
What’s my identity?
I talk about raindrops
I can smell the red earth…

I talk about loneliness
I talk about the distant sky
I try to calm my soul
With some benevolent words...

The sit alone in a park
I constantly keep gazing
The hazy moon in the dark
I love everything that’s bright.

My heart half- clogged, half smoky
The galaxy where I dwell
Is so full of ecstasy…
I extract happiness from prose

Weaving a tale make me proud
The walls praise me
The darkness seems so very clear
Poetry is life, it’s reserved…

I am not a poet…
Then who am I?



Image: www.artquotes.net


Saturday, August 14, 2010

Undelivered Letters, Silent Gaze and the Voluptuous Moon



Sometimes I close my eyes just to think about that damsel who changed the meaning of my life. Sometimes I look at her mutely from my balcony, sometimes I walk behind following her divine shadow…

The rain clouds play music all around. She dances with glee. She makes me restless and happy. The droplets touch her smooth arms; the benevolent sky keeps her warm.

I keep gazing at her endlessly like a mute toy. Her glimpse makes me evolve. I no more sing solitary songs; I simply follow the beautiful shadow.

I wrote thousand letters for her, composed many poems in my dreams. Her charm exudes so much warmth. My heart throbs louder.Suddenly, she calls my name; I jump with delight like a careless child. I look at her – cluelessly. She holds my hand and takes me to another land. I see that voluptuous moon; I see stars kissing me all around. I drive the chariot vehemently; I gallop through those beautiful aisles with her. The bliss mutely slides into my life, the roses looks so very bright. She read poems, she sings like the mocking bird.

There is a cottage near the valley where she dwells. She takes me there and tries to pamper my arms. She gently pulls my nose, she then winks. The smile continued; I kept praising her presence silently. The wind blew harder that night, the smokes transformed, the fireplace became a firehouse. The droplets kept adding love throughout the night. There was no end to that beautiful storm…

Suddenly a hoarse voice was heard. Everything changed. The landlord knocks at my door heavily. He broke my dream but the smiles kept flowing throughout the day, through out the night. Some dreams stay forever, some dreams make you smile all the way through your life…



Image Courtesy: remainaery.deviantart.com


Monday, August 09, 2010

The Invisible Scar…


Darkness from the dungeons constantly beckons him. His invalid life heartlessly craves for that white poison. The smokes of desire spreads like swirling snakes in his living room. He puts his head inside the decaying refrigerator; he tries to feel the icy-cold air in his loneliness. The shadows from his past makes him quiver, the ghost of his ex-girlfriend tries to seduce him at night. The heat generated from his past creates restlessness. The murk softly slides into his life. Nothing looks fine…

Tonight he is writing a poem for her, the words aren’t black, they are simply red…

Stop there! I have to say something my dear.
Your shadows are breathtakingly ugly…
Take them away,
Take them away from me…


The nightmares you’ve given me are remarkably unattractive
Your image looks like casket full of lies.
Tonight you must be happy in somebody’s arms
But the venom is spreading in my veins…


Stop there! I have to give you something
As you are designed to acquire,
Catch these black roses; they won’t look repulsive in your carcass.



Stop there! I have to say something my dear…
Your silence isn’t your answer,
Your avoidance was just not a blunder
It was planned with care…
It gave me a new life to decipher.


Stop here! Don’t try to caress me
Your presence no more delights me
Just take the shadows away,
As they are so very ugly…


The maroon clouds are singing passionately tonight. Roads to his home are looking smooth and bright. The shadows are disappearing and stars singing loud. The void created in life is now filling up with some desires. The chaos is slowly fading into oblivion. He is no more walking with her memoirs. He is just pampering his heart. He no more craves for that white poison; he no more curses the night.

Silently walk beside me my dear
You look so beautiful in your night attire.
You are my muse, my love…
Her new partner mutely whispers in her ears
He is so very unaware of her yesteryears…


That’s how things work, sometimes they are happy, and sometimes they are sad. The curse lingers on. She becomes a drifter. She is still craving with her empty arms. She is ageing without pride. She must be cursing the invisible scar tonight…






Written exclusively for Soch Lo (The Movie) Blogger Contest organized by Indiblogger

Friday, August 06, 2010

Just Escape!



What happens when reality treats you like rats? What happens when the air around you exude venom? What happens when you lose your golden smile? What happens when pain climbs your broken stairs? - You Escape!

Escapism is the best way to find bliss. It’s one of the most traditional techniques to soothe your psyche, heart and your existence. The pen moves vehemently. Words gallop like horses. The world looks bit clear. The ugly planet keeps giving you agony. The voluptuous sun never gives you company. Things start falling apart. You just become a lost soul searching passionately for that bit of sheen.

The invisibility increases, the maroon clouds become visible. What happens when everyone leaves you behind? What happens when the darkness of night makes you quiver? You just escape. Even John Keats would have felt the same thing. The ugly face of reality keeps troubling you every now and then. It treats you badly. It hardly values your existence. Life gets reduced to nothing. The void increases, the closeness disappears.

Alas! You hear thunder and lightening roaring and howling through out your nights. The devils in the form of everything appears in your galaxy. They try to squeeze you, pester you without any feelings. They show their cruel face, they disregard your whole existence.

Suddenly silence knocks your door. You become numb. You neither smile nor laugh. You just try to move on. You just escape…







Image courtesy: esharkdesign.com


Thursday, August 05, 2010

The Seven Deadly Sins and the Urban Man



I am no philosopher and I hate to talk like one. I am no thinker, I hate to think, and I am no God.
There is an evil hiding in the attic. The lofty mountains and the free flowing rivers are losing their sheen. There’s a quirky air that’s engulfing the entire human stratosphere. The urban man is unhappy, he carries a fake smile in his wallet, he craves for his lost sleep, and he tries to decipher the unknown facets of life.

The snow-clad corners of his heart throb to achieve those hidden desires. The monotony dilutes him, it makes him quiver. He tries to abandon existence; he tries to embrace the famous solitude. Slowly the detachment turns into wrath…

He becomes unhappy with everything that happens around him. The missing symphony from his existence make him envious. Everyone looks beautiful except him. He no more finds bliss in his corridor. The mirror curses him, the scars grow endlessly.

The evil in his attic gets powerful; it slowly spreads venom inside his mind. The corrupt Satan is benefited from his sloth. Lust loiters in and around him, he commits one more sin.

The evil grows bigger. It completely destroys his psyche. He becomes a vagabond – homeless and disheartened. The greed to achieve something very quickly makes him insane. The urban man powered by Satan rises without sympathy. He reaches a monochromatic place where he finds some known faces already sitting there having fun. He grins, he feel so complete to achieve that dream throne. Suddenly everyone near him vanishes. He finds himself lonely again but he continues to smirk. The pride becomes his best friend. The narcissism increases, he falls in love with his shadow. His hunger turns in gluttony. He unknowingly commits the seven deadly sins. He becomes a sinner thus he falls…

His loneliness became his curse, his naivety became his enemy.

Suddenly, the clock wakes him up. Oh! God, I am alive. He praises his existence and embraces life once again. The nightmare became his well wisher in disguise. The waft of breeze touches him with delight. He now caresses the beautiful dawn, he walks again through those green aisles – the seven deadly sins fade away into oblivion – The humanity softly settles down…


Image courtesy: gatewaypeople.co.uk


Tuesday, August 03, 2010

1000 Faces inside a Dream



There are two different worlds. When one ceases the next starts, when one closes its eyes, the other opens up. The landscape changes, everything appears to be monochromatic. Some hazy images revolve around your mind and you keep deciphering them involuntarily. Disconnection becomes so very relevant. The world of subconscious is different. It’s strange but you never realize its weirdness till you jump back to the other world - the four dimensional landscape.

Things are different after you close your eyes. Every night someone tries to narrate a disjointed tale.  Every night you become a passive observer. You see known faces, you see people whom you must have encountered or seen for a brief time. Your closed eyes makes you see those faces that you forget to see in your reality. The world after you sleep is so surreal. You see graffiti, you fly, you fall from a tall cliff, and you try to run from gun shots, you fall, you struggle to move, and you freeze. The sepia-coloured imageries speak something to you but you struggle to interpret the hidden sense.

You keep walking through a never ending aisle. Sometimes the scenes changes drastically. You see people swimming inside an aquarium; you fight and scream and you see flashing faces. Nothing is constant in that world, nothing is even. The detachment and absurdity evolves, the surrealism settles down. The colour of your dreams are sometimes blue, sometimes it’s grey. Sometimes you just get into it. You start participating with those floating images, you never realise that it was a dream till you open your eyes. Sometimes you feel glad to wake up after a nightmare and sometimes you feel cursed to face the reality. You see 1000 faces, you travel through unknown places, and you meet lost friends. You cry in your dreams, you smile, you scream, you try to do everything inside a dream.

Recollecting your dreams makes you crazy while some lingers through out your life and you never realize their meaning.

The maze keeps annoying you. The hazy ideas and half told tales inside your dream-scape stimulate your mind to think about things that you seldom remember. There’s a hangover every dawn, sometimes they make you imagine and sometimes they just makes you spellbound. The floating imagery, those faces, those fleeting shadows make you speculate about the beauty and ugliness concealed inside a dream...