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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Monday, September 27, 2010

Behind Every Great Man There’s an Ex-Girlfriend

The real story of everyone’s life starts after a great fall. There is something that always keeps you busy, there are fleeting thoughts, there are everlasting memories, there are tears, and there is a shadow that keeps lingering on.

You walk hand in hand; the moonlit nights give you a beautiful shiver. The cottage where you stay makes you feel cosy. The distant sky looks almost crystal clear.
Suddenly a thud wakes you up. You search for that real dream, you find nobody around, you crave for something, you find nothing…

The tale continues; the sky changes its colour. It becomes maroon. The birds no more visit you. You move around like an aimless traveller searching for a light, you find pot holes, you fall again and again but the shadow keeps pestering – every night, every time.

You keep gazing at her pictures, you pass your time by remembering those golden times, and you sleep with her dreams. The morning never shines in your galaxy, the night never vanishes, and the dusk makes you quiver.

Time changes, your feelings evolve. You no more see that haunting shadow. There is so much in life. Ex-girlfriend becomes just another person in your life. You no more crave for her, her memories slowly fades down.

You see another light better than before. Her shadow pushes you to move ahead. You become a Rockstar in return. Your heart throbs for real people. You become more solid. You are no more a loser. Your destination seems near. Your thoughts rise; you silently feel the shining star. Someone is always there who is standing behind you to hide those ugly shadows of your ex-girlfriend.

The real story starts from here…

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Rock, Beer, Electric Vibes and Delhi

Eight years here, still deciphering the place, the people, the ambiance, the smartness, the foolishness - things that often pesters my mind. I still live like a stranger in this city of lights. The midnight moon sometimes caresses me; sometimes the world around me looks so hazy. Delhi is undoubtedly the most unpredictable city on Earth. I have had good, not-so good days and ugly times too. Times changed; I grew up with the city.

The surroundings began to look like my own. The rudeness here is momentary, the people here are nice but the way they speak to you is still a reason to ponder. I don’t know why people act so busy here. Everybody knows everything, they are masters, they act like that they have conquered the world. You are just nothing in front of them but there are exceptions. Gradually Delhi is evolving. Everyone is an outsider here but the fact is nobody wants to admit that. However, that’s unity in diversity I guess.

I love the place because of its extremity. If you can survive here, you can survive anywhere in the world. Everybody here is living machines with a heart of gold. Quite contradictory, I bet. 

The best thing about the place is its Saturday life. You can easily escape from the tiring reality to a place of your choice. You’ve great options to hang out. I think Delhi knows the art of enjoyment, the art of drinking. However, Rock music is still Greek for many people here. Delhi’s hard rock scene is dull. I know it take takes time to transform the noise into melody but the irony is that we the people of Delhi never try to decipher the hidden trance. Everyone here loves to swing with Desi Beats. There are exceptions but the percentage of Rock lovers in Delhi is quite minimal. Slowly, the cultural capital is spreading its wings. Some places here are really cool. You would surely find a crowd who loves Pink Floyd, Morrison. You are sure to get drenched with too much freedom of choice here.

So, let’s love more, hate less and spread more smiles. Let’s live like a rock star, let’s glorify the power of Beer and Rock together…

Image Credit: Bikash Sidney Gogoi

Friday, September 24, 2010

Commonwealth Games 2010 and Some Glasses of French Wine

Everyone is talking about the upcoming Commonwealth Games. Different interpretations, rain drops, falling bridges, sting operation and many more shocking news and views are entertaining us daily. Even it’s trending on twitter nowadays – mind-blowing!

I am not going to write about the games and the controversies rather I am going to focus on the hospitality that should be shown to the visiting players. They should be given due treatment so that they can carry good memories after the games. We should try to smile often; we should talk less about hatred and love more.

Undoubtedly Delhi is rude sometimes, but times are changing. People here are becoming knowledgeable now unlike yesteryears. Humanity is slowly descending in the capital. The sky looks little clear now, even the rain god is pleased. There is excitement; the festive mood is prevailing now.

Commonwealth Games (CWG2010) is Delhi’s baby and everyone is working day and night for making this event a grand success. The light at the end of the tunnel is approaching nearer and Delhi is almost ready to feel the glowing sun. The melodious anthem composed by Oscar winning composer A.R. Rahman would be reverberating all around the galaxy. The changing wind is exuding hope. Some faces are getting back their lost smiles. Some money is really spent. At least, I could see some more street lights, well-connected metro service, roads with and without potholes and some more security force. Something is really happening for good and we should appreciate the change. It’s time to cheer our participants, it’s time to join hands, and it’s time to have some glasses of French wine rather than criticizing the already overburdened organizers.


Saturday, September 18, 2010

Poor Poet

Metaphors, similes, words, life
Chatting, ranting and howling
At the middle of the auburn night
He is praising the beauty of words
He is silently deciphering the tide.

Deprived, disgruntled, aimless
He lives in a dreamy kingdom
The world treats him badly
He stupidly recites about tyranny.

Writing keeps him busy
He feels lively and happy.
He dwells in a dilapidated chalet.
Time flies away…

Words cease, oblivion arrives
He craves for inspiration
The malice makes him insane
Gradually he loses interest
His writings fall to pieces

After thousand years
His words grow
But he is no more there.
His expressions rise
But there’s no one to cheer.

The poor poet smiles
Silently keeps down his pen
Walks in the nearest garden
Feels the shining moon again…

Image courtesy:

Friday, September 17, 2010

Sonakshi Sinha – Everyman’s Poetic Dream

Lately, Indian beauty is redefined by a new face in Bollywood. Her curves have created ripples in the stagnant sky. She moves like a youthful belly dancer, she smiles with ease, her eyes exude bliss. She is the next big thing in the tinsel town. She is every man’s poetic dream.

Gone are days of size zero. No guy likes to gaze at skinny girls. It’s the era of Indian curves. Everyone likes to ride through a bumpy landscape. She looks like a next door girl with her friendly appearance. She acts flawlessly. Her fa├žade in Saree astonishes everyone; her profound cleavage has the ability to tickle all your nerves. Every woman is unique and her uniqueness lies in those perfectly packaged butt.

Beauty in any form should be appreciated. Her exquisiteness is so full of delight. She is destined to rule the Indian Cinema. If you have seen her latest flick ‘Dabangg’, you will know why the whole world is talking about this young lady. She impeccably flaunted herself in the movie. Though she had a brief role, still she left a mark with her everlasting smile. She portrayed the role of a small town girl with so much ease. Every Indian girl could relate to her predictable shyness.

She is extremely marvellous throughout the whole movie. The craving to see her is there always. Indian Cinema is evolving every day for sure. Indian women are getting requisite attention globally. The fascination to see swelling curves is increasing. People are no more running after bones.

Bollywood got a face lift with this movie. Everything about the movie and the lady is perfect. She has the ability to brighten your life with her cinematic presence. Sonakshi Sinha’s grace is destined to get endless appraisals in the near future. Her arrival is no less than a soft breeze, her appearance epitomises an old-world charm. She is the next big bombshell with a perfectly trimmed attitude. All praises for her!

Thursday, September 16, 2010

My Shadow

One silent September night
A voice from the distant cloud
Tenderly whispered in my ears
Asked me to write
About the darkness that sleeps
By my side
Every day
Every night
Always together, never away.
Silent, soft, gorgeous
Selflessly walking along,
Tonight I am thanking
The darkness that stays
Between, outside, above, under
my existence…

Obnoxious Nerds?

His phone is resting in his bed. It’s in a silent mode. He hates his face. Everyone hates him. He keeps thinking about a beautiful life but the ugliness keeps slapping him every now and then. He is treated badly by the world, he is invisible for girls. Life of a nerd is predictable. He is often criticized in the public. He silently walks with his unseen tears. The thorns from reality torture him in his dreams. He loses confidence, he struggles to speak, he is shy, and he escapes.

His presence is abhorred. The apartment where he dwell squeezes his blood every night. He kisses his pillow and tries to close his eyes. Nightmares visit him. The crows never let him sleep in the morn. He hates to face himself. The mirror curses him. He dresses up half heartedly and walks lazily to his office. Life is no more exciting- he says to himself. He becomes a pervert and tries to gaze at every girl but no one bothers to see him.

Nerds aren’t bad but the world makes them so. They aren’t ugly, they are just fine. People who hate them are themselves foolish. There’s light, there’s charm, there’s a huge span. The metamorphosis is beautiful. The story never ends here.

He makes the world think like him. Whatever he speaks create history. When he walks, the world follows him. He designs the best looking facade, he creates a lovely place for people to socialise, his visions for future shapes our present, and he drives Lamborghini and makes everyone proud.

Suddenly, someone enters in the big auditorium with something in his hand. Everyone greets him with a standing ovation. The spotlight falls upon him and he shows his latest innovation. The world sees him, he politely smiles and explains his invention and walks away with all the accolades. He is no rock star, he is no superstar. He is that nerd who was once hated, criticized and dumped...

Monday, September 13, 2010

Desperate Young Love

The flowers in the garden look unhappy because the gardener is absent. The young lady is standing with a gloomy face near the bus stand because her lover is late. Everyone is searching for true love. Everyone is craving for a hand. Everyone is desperate for something. The story of everyone’s life is different but the joy of meeting someone special is always so very profound. It’s like catching fish in a dry pond. There is so much of beauty all around but life is so very lonely. The laid back luck never comes easily. The sun never shines in your galaxy.

You try to change yourself for good. You try to run for losing weight. You learn dancing to impress her. You join coaching classes to meet someone special. You hop around pubs in search of a soul mate. The desperation kills you. You finally give up and lock yourself inside a room and become the new age Devdas. You talk about the moon and the stars. You write poems, you drink and sleep. You become a moron but love never comes to you. The frustration destroys your self confidence.

There is distraction everywhere. You become a temporary pervert. You no more look good in your trench coat. Your face exudes satanic gazes. A young man/woman without love becomes a notorious soul. He fantasises about everything that’s immoral. He makes fun of himself. He becomes a cynic. Nothing seems perfect in his kingdom.

But the world never remains the same. One fine day he finds his soul mate. He could see the light above her shoulder. He walks hand in hand in a moonlit park. He kisses heavily. He falls in love with the very moment. Everything changes in his life. He becomes handsome, his face began to glow. The flowers in the garden are happy because the gardener finally arrives.

The desperation fades away. The droplet makes everyone happy. What is true love? He is still ignorant about. He just tries to feel it; suddenly he sees his beloved walking away with someone else. She bids a silent goodbye… The desperation continues but love never arrives. The game continues…This is life here my friend. Love is waiting again for you; you are destined to fall once more. The era of darkness would fade away into oblivion…

Saturday, September 11, 2010

The Irresistible Indian Cleavage

Deep, dark, fleshy line half covered by Saree where a peek can create mayhem. That’s the beauty of an Indian Cleavage. Divine curves, smooth skin, toned architecture and a voluptuous outline have the ability to change your psyche. There is an unread veil of desire, there’s a trapped sound of agony, there’s half-hearted intention of lust. The shyness between their lips, the heat exuding from their hips has an eternal sanctity. The charm endlessly falls into your galaxy. The glimpse of darkness between those hills makes you quiver with glee.

Women in India love to preserve the mystery inside them with utter ease. They open up slowly like an approaching breeze. They admire their assets in their loneliness. The mirror often praises the terrain valleys. They silently smile and adore their toned bottom. They carry them elegantly. They swing like a mocking bird amid friendly vultures. The tunnel is profound, the wilderness is beautiful, and the anonymity is so very mouth watering.

They bend slowly towards the ground, to reveal that extremely alluring sight. They generate urge to be touched and pampered. They often seems unconscious while most of the times they are voluntary. They play with their dupatta with grace to accentuate the roundedness. Indian women are enigmatic. They love soft touches. They have a strong liking for slow moving hands.

The irresistible Indian cleavages have so many tales to tell. They look best with droplets in them. They could make your tongue flutter; they could produce thunder and lightening in a clear sky. There’s so much beauty hidden behind. The imagination itself is so very celestial…

Dark Sky – Story of a Wretched Joker

He is wandering in search of something. He is cruel, ugly, insane and dethroned. The world around him is beautiful but his inside is dark. Everyone abhors his existence; his squeezed face no more delights the galaxy. He is poor, he is a pervert, and he is a stupid man. The wretched joker is dying, he is crawling, and he is becoming inaccessible to the world. Something is killing him everyday; he is unable to see light. The air around is playing violins. The soft symphonies of past is slowly fading away. People avoid him, he is cursed. He is becoming uglier with each passing day. The joker couldn’t feel the changing tide.

The mirror criticizes him. He is useless common man. He is no more the master of his destiny, he is sinking in disharmony. Sometimes he shed tears, sometimes he smiles in agony, sometimes he just encourages the silence to take over. What he is doing? What is the meaning of his life? Why humanity detest his presence? Why he is hiding behind the veil of dusk? He moves like a soul less lizard, people scoff at his meaningless remarks. He is neglected; he is tortured by the endless nightmares. The sky is always so empty in his galaxy.

Another day, another life, some more pain and that timeless sorrow keeps stabbing his mind. The wretched joker is still moving without pride. He is losing respect for his unhappy existence. The dust is making him dirty, the Satan is intruding. His eyes are red, his body looks obnoxious, and the scars are vehemently making him appear like an urban moron. The story of the wretched joker is painstakingly dark, he no more walks in the moonlit path, he keeps penning solitary verse, he no more feels the beautiful words, and he just walks along the killing tide…


Tuesday, September 07, 2010

Another Day

The flying man thinks
The sleeping thoughts tremble
The ceiling fan continues moving
The droplets endlessly fall from heaven…

The silence kills, the walls bite
Memories revisits,
They no more make you smile
Loneliness from the dungeons
Takes away your dream…

Suddenly, the wind touches you
Takes you for a ride to your yesteryears
Poetry intrudes, prose settles down
Words accompany the entire sojourn…
Suddenly there’s light.

The sadness flies away from the prison.
Birds of peace appears in your galaxy
Your meaningless thoughts are given an identity...
Some ordinary shape mixed with humanity.

Image Credit: Yan On Sheung