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, November 29, 2010

Behind That Unblemished Smile

The silence inside your eyes seduces me. I could see droplets rolling, trying to convey something, couldn't understand them, and couldn’t hold them from falling.

There’s something that disturbing you, there’s someone watching you. You may be smiling like never before, you may be socializing with thousands of strangers but your silence within is killing you slowly and slowly. Your wings are locked inside that closet; your legs are tied down. You are free but something is pulling you back to flaunt your freedom, you are happy but something is accentuating your sadness from deep within. You are lovely but the world hardly recognises your glamour, you have place for everybody in your heart but no one takes you inside their heart. You have wasted millions of minutes for someone and that someone never ever tried to look back. You are free and unhappy, you are trying to hide your face, you are trying to stay inside the attic, you are running slowly and your run is becoming everything for you. The silence inside your eyes speak millions of words, your blank face have so much to tell. The deep shell where you dwell wants you to abandon. It constantly pushes you to mingle; it tries to show beautiful shadows. The ruthless world is just a virtual place where people fight without a reason, you are made for the real world where there’s a prince charming waiting just for you. You have to fly, you have to meet the distant blue sky, and you have to come out from that deep shell, you have to feel the lavender again. The silence inside your eyes have so many beautiful tales, the lustre of your face has the ability to radiate the entire universe. You aren’t cheap; you are just priceless at least for that prince charming who must be riding through the chaotic sky just to get a glimpse of you…

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Damn Urban Addictions!

Tired eyes, Saturday night, empty bottles of whiskey, cigarette butts resting everywhere with delight, there’s that mystical songstress humming her favorite song, there’s some trance, there’s some beautiful pain lingering around his heart. He is gazing at his computer screen without an idea, he is staring at the keypads, he is unable to type, and he is unable to create another life.

He dreams about the silken moon caressing his sleepy arms, he keeps procrastinating. The inevitable delay makes him quiver, he halfheartedly blabbers like half-drunk mad man, and he tries to perform a guilt free escape. There’s nothing like playing around with metaphors, there’s nothing like getting drenched in a cold winter morn, there’s no life without an addiction…

Some people are just very addicted to everything that excites their inner nerves. Some addictions are momentary while some stay throughout your life. They keep pestering you like a shadow. They gradually get inside you and manipulate your psyche. Addiction to anything is so very devastating but no one understands that until they find another equally better obsession.

Some people are addicted to love, some people are addicted to lust, some people just keep shifting their addictions, some people just die without a whimper, and some people are glorified due to their mad addictions. Fast cars, flashy gadgets, designer clothes, money, posh living room, materialistic bliss keeps tempting a human soul. There’s no end, there’s only expansion everywhere. Life starts after 40, becomes more exciting in the late 60’s, there’s no sign of aging, there’s only expansion. Anti-aging pills are doing a great job.

The madness is beginning, life’s doing rock ‘n’ roll in our galaxy. The drumbeats are becoming faster, the noise is slowly transforming into symphonies. Some people love shopping to calm their souls. Some people love to hold hands and walk under the moonlit sky; some people keep dreaming about a better tomorrow, some makes love with their make-believe mates, some keep unconsciously dancing with the flow. A geek loves to play with codes; he does coding for his love, a poet keep imagining things and finally creates some lyrical words that they call it poetry, a gamer keep unlocking impossible stages, a graphic designer sleeps with photoshop, a facebook addict keeps refreshing his page, an alcoholic hardly waits for a dry day. That’s how everything works I guess!

Image Credit: Coreybarksdale

Thursday, November 25, 2010

The Rise of the Imperfect…

Everyday the sun goes down without an appraisal. Every night the wolves howl without permission. The desire for perfect curves, perfect face, perfect weight, perfect height, perfect girlfriend, perfect job and a perfect life make people crazy.

The search for perfection never ends. Human beings run after these things everyday, every night. They keep chasing a never-ending mirage. They work hard to achieve something. They crave to be become perfect. There are people with perfect eyes, perfect height, perfect everything without a perfect heart. There are people who are blessed with wonderful intellect while there people with none. The idea of being perfect is nothing but a mere delusion. However the changing tides is shifting its focus on the so-called flawed existence. Being imperfect is sexy now.

The idea of beauty is no more the same. Girls with imperfect body, face or height may look much hotter than a perfect plastic lass. The idea of ugliness is gone. What’s that? Being imperfect is just very cool. You don’t have to get depressed if someone scoffs at you for your imperfect face. You don’t have to cry whole night if someone thinks you aren’t appropriate for his/her life. You don’t have to isolate yourself from the crowd if someone thinks you to be socially inept. The imperfection may become an inspiration, your imperfection may even look sexier that the other perfect people on earth.

Glorifying the imperfections inside us is the best thing to be done when the whole world looks better than us. We find ourselves nowhere, just nowhere. Everybody looks perfect except us. We keep whining about our imperfect eyes, nose, belly, height, hair etc. We crave to look good and glamorous to achieve that perfection but during this we forget to praise imperfections on others. Whoa! I am happy to be imperfect. Are you?

Image credit: celebraterecoveryblog

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Soft Jerry’s Stinking Jacket

Winter evening, haze everywhere, the maze of thoughts and Mr.Jerry staring at everything yet nothing. The fast moving cars and those beautiful girls sitting near the window seat are making Jerry crave for that winter somersault. He is walking alone in the sidewalk remembering his hay days and smiling like a madman.

He crosses the metro bridge, takes a brief look left and right and continues his stroll. The sky above him looks fine, the pedestrians and the cops create no noise around. He is walking with his own little dreams; he is pampering his heart by remembering his small little achievements. He sees the beggar with both arms intact begging, he sees some college goers with their extra large backpacks. Mr.Jerry mutely captures everything that’s going around. He inhales the noise; he makes no mistake in making his day. The silent evenings make Jerry yearn for some good music. He thinks about dead poets and writers, he keeps moving with voluptuous thoughts. Past Memories appear like a collage in his mind’s eye. He keeps shifting his thoughts. Good memories make him proud for a while and the bad ones just push him forward. He love to reminisce, he loves life at large.

The soft raindrops and it’s tapping sound makes Jerry excited, he keeps inhaling nicotine without guilt. The poison goes down unconsciously but the trance evolves tremendously. Jerry may be hallucinating, he may be a day dreamer still his gaze means a lot, his silence exude passion. Jerry love walking without feeling the urban chaos. He still love to wear his favorite jacket which may stink - nicotine. This is the story of Mr.Jerry who doesn’t exist but still his presence seems so real to me…


Image Credit:beckermanphoto

Monday, November 22, 2010

The Paranormal Lust…


If you visualize things that everybody around couldn’t, if you have a different lifestyle, if you love to manipulate your dreams then you are definitely under the garb of paranormal lust. The hidden force around tickles your nerves, you just love to watch horror movies and get goose bumps. 

You hear weird voices, you smile while sleeping. You keep feeling a sense of dejavu every now and then. You aren’t mad; you are just an indigo child. You keep flying in your dreams.

Hallucinations, sepia-tinted pictures of unknown faces, lonely roads, subways, and puzzling staircases keep diluting your real presence. You love to feel the hidden force which is non-existent for the real universe. You still remember old tales narrated by your grand mother, you keep thinking about the fictional characters. When you become over possessive, you practice telepathy.

You get good and bad vibes, your mind becomes active especially during night. You are psychic without a doubt but your capabilities are still ignored by the real world. The supernatural forces are just like fairy tales that only exist in books and movies. You may not encounter any ghost in your entire lifetime but you would obviously get ugly dreams. The world after your sleep is somewhat crazy, you lose some, and you gain some. You are destined to get recurring dreams.

The solitary castle and that prince charming would keep visiting you. That angel with long curls and a broken wing would keep your desire alive. You are never old, you are never tired, and you just keep moving in a different plane. You could ignore the cruel world and move forward with your paranormal dreams. You may leave and take it back whenever you wish. There’s a unique sense of freedom in a paranormal life, you always feel that trance even though you are wide awake and basking under the glowing sun…

Image Credit: bungalowinsanity


Sunday, November 21, 2010

The Beauty of Subconscious Writing

Lately, I have developed a habit of writing unconsciously. My fingers just move automatically. The music played in my laptop brings out that long lost fervor and harmony. I just keep writing subconsciously.

Words keep playing hide and seek, the drumbeats and guitar chords exude some kind of unique sonata. Writing without thinking sometimes can be so much satisfying. The sweat is missing; it’s like enjoying a rock concert with words. It’s like creating something without much pain.

Your fingers becomes stimulated, it craves to hit that solid black keyboard. It moves with sheer ease from one letter to another. It goes on creating one phrase to another, one word to another. The music in the background enhances your writing experience. You are so occupied yet detached from the world; you just keep going deeper and deeper. You dance in your chair; you keep inhaling the bliss in your corridor. You just keep writing and writing on. That’s the beauty of subconscious writing, that’s like creating a new symphony everyday, every night….

Friday, November 19, 2010

Stimulating Pamela Anderson

What happens when someone like Pamela Anderson visits India? The answer may vary from person to person but it’s almost impossible to ignore her big presence. Everyone would like to peep inside the house to get a glimpse of her curves. She is too hot for Indian Television. Pamela Anderson’s round façade is creating ripples everywhere. Her presence is enough to boost TV ratings, create protests etc. especially in a content hungry country like India. Everyone loves a big package here – the bigger the better. Indian men are comparatively restricted from indulging into big games and hence someone like Pamela stimulates their senses with perfect ease.

It’s amazing to watch someone like her in Indian Television. The twitter landscape is almost getting flooded with various intriguing updates. She is here to generate amusement among Indian men as well as women and she wins it hands down. Her uniqueness is definitely stupefying.

The Baywatch lass became an object of envy for other Indian celebrities. They must be wondering about her priceless enhancements. There’s nothing wrong in appreciating fine things hence she rules the Indian sky at this moment. She had a grand welcome at the airport. The paparazzi did their best to capture the best of Pamela and they did a great job. Everybody would like to see her in a red Bikini. The big Pamela Anderson craze has just begun. I wonder what will happen if Kim Kardashian comes to India. There will be war for sure.

What Indian girls think about her? The answer may again vary. Some girls would love to admire her deepness while others will just take it as a passé. There are few things that invigorate everyman and Pamela possesses two. That’s surely a big respite from a monotonous Indian life…

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Inside a Man’s Heart, Mind & Wallet

There’s enough free space inside a man’s heart. There are so many things going on at a particular time. There are so many invalid credit cards...

Some guys are flamboyant enough to flaunt their skills everywhere while some dies craving for that eternal bliss. All men are different. Priorities change with age. That’s a cliche but the need remains constant. A twenty something who gets everything during his younger days would surely try to concentrate on his career rather than spending time to woo someone. Things aren’t same for everyone. Some guys aren’t lucky enough to get proposals from that best looking girl in the college or school. Some guys aren’t among the studs. They start little late - Better late than never types. This category has lots of money now. They are the cream of the society. Their childhood days were boring. They made love with books and equations and now they have ass models around their arms. They are loved by everyone especially by their would-be in-laws. They finally look dashing in their formal attire. There’s nothing that money can’t buy – happiness, love and that pure lust. Their wallets are filled with valid credit cards, they have big bank balance and they are the ones who finally take away all the beautiful brides.

Happiness comes in installments. Some men are born with nothing but die with enough wealth to feed ten generations. They have one ambition and one life. They are the big ones. Their priorities are different. They are the unforgettable types.

And then there’s that third type who keeps dreaming. They keep juggling between reality and fiction. They aren’t losers, they aren’t bad, and they are just fine. They are definitely not the best ones. They live thousand lives, thousand dreams, and thousand characters in a single life. They have enough space to accommodate everything that’s exciting. They haven’t found their goal. Their search continues. They are impractical; they love to pamper their hearts. They create symphonies, they try to play with designs, and they love to experiment with everything that’s available at a particular time. Nobody’s perfect and they epitomise that imperfection. There are so many things inside a man’s heart, money and wallet, there’s so much to unveil and decipher…

Sunday, November 14, 2010

The End of Platonic Love…

Is there anyone who still believes in love without a hint of lust? Is there anyone who still feels the lilies in her absence? Is there anyone who hums that forgotten symphony of desire?

Cherry had a cute smile, petite body and bright brown eyes. She had everything except a throbbing heart. She was like a rock from inside and soft cotton from outside.

John was crazy for her. His heart wanted nothing but love – the platonic one. He spent 25 long years to impress her and eventually failed. She vanished without telling him, she flew away, she deleted him completely from her life. He was no more running with bouquets of yellow roses, he was no more shivering in the cold winter night, and he was no more singing love songs. He kept whining, he acted like a loser in disharmony.

Time heals everything as they say. Broken hearts also smile sometimes. The loneliness and pain makes you strong, makes you rude, and makes you imaginative, you talk about maple leaves, raindrops and lilies. You try to change the world from your silent corner, you write disconnected prose. You become mad and that madness becomes your love.

John no more whines about his past. He is busy and prosperous like never before. He no more chases a fake shadow. The ghost of Cherry makes him strong, the nightmares of the past is nothing but some ugly chapters in his life. He destroys them. He silently keeps walking, he no more shares his mind with anyone, and he is just in love with himself. He may be rude at times, get irritated at every small thing but he isn’t a loser. He is the king now who knows how to dance in a midsummer night and wake up next day without a hangover...


Image Credit: Bernie Kasper

Saturday, November 13, 2010

The Indispensable Gods…

Each generation wants new symbols, new people, new names. They want to divorce themselves from their predecessors. ~ Jim Morrison

The whims and fancies of this urbane generation might just become an old-world charm for the next gang. The clothes we wear today, the diction we use, the technology we employ could just become obsolete but someone like me and you may perhaps dig canals and return back to us to feel the soothing fragrance of our times.

We have still not found our Heroes, we are still struggling to make the world a better place, and we are still a confused generation. We admire our ancestors, we praise about the future but we are unable to feel the music of the present. It’s an experimental age where everyone is moving, just moving. Things are evolving may be. The transition from old to new is somewhat pleasant but the transformation isn’t clear. Ghosts of Jim Morrison, Mahatma Gandhi, and Shakespeare still trouble us.

We have a unique life, quite different from our ancestors, quite flamboyant and easy as we think now. We no more hunt animals for our living, we no more see tigers and lions in our neighbourhood but we still crave to own a farmhouse, dance around trees, wear colourful dresses and sing around carefree. We constantly yearn for a selfless smile, we long for a warm hug. We are creating loneliness, we are just moving.

It’s an era of fusion may be a blend of country song and urban trance. It’s an age where nobody is insignificant, nobody is ordinary. We followed our predecessors, we sang their songs, we recited their poetry, and we took up their lifestyle and evolved. We had Michael Jackson, we have Sachin, we have our indispensable Gods but we are still in search of that Hero inside us. We are still praising others, we are still not flying, and we are just living a life without imagination. The thrust is definitely missing. Are we still procrastinating? Are we still waiting for that anonymous something?

Image Credit: Michael Vincent

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Shakespeare 2.0

The archaic melodramas, flamboyant tragedies, heart touching romance, larger than life everything. He is the world’s greatest poet, writer and a superfluous geek. 

Literature is incomplete without him; he invented words at ease. It’s difficult to interpret his style but the magic created by Shakespeare still make us think a bit. 

That was Shakespeare, a bald guy from Stratford-upon-Avon who wrote history with his pen, who created those never-ending waves around the humane galaxy. 

The world is moving little forward. Everybody’s thoughts are given due respect now. The so called user-based content and sharing is in vogue and nobody’s complaining. Unlike yesteryears, we have an open source called Google now. It’s our friend, philosopher and guide. We have so many things to do now. The virtual world is plainly intruding on our lives. There’s a feeling of mixed-bliss all around. The idea cloud is moving from one corner to another. 

Oh! The best thing is that Shakespeare’s still alive. He is with us - tweeting from his grave. He updates lines from his books after every 10 minutes. How does he manage to do that? I am sure he is the real William who never stops. He keeps tweeting day and night, he is still crazy, and he is still fine. The real William promised us to tweet all works of The Great Shakespeare, which will take 2 long years and 13 days.

Shakespeare has many other accounts too. He is definitely rising with each passing. He is heard and shared by people like me and you. Web 2.0 is making things much easier now yet the feeling of uncertainty would be there for awhile. Let the bard from Avon rise and shine again, let him remain alive…

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Tuesday, November 09, 2010

Surreal Winter Romance…

The sky is spreading its arms; the moon is sinking in that cup of coffee. That touch of bliss, that blanket of desire still haunts him, still spoils him. The wind is touching his ears, whispering mutely about that voluptuous silhouette. He is quivering like a child; he is unable to praise the glittering sunshine. Suddenly, there’s a flash! Someone smiles, someone winks, someone touches his shivering arms. The winter breeze evolves, the nights become longer and the union seems unavoidable. The fiction is becoming alive; the heat around everything is increasing. 

The eternal winter love makes everyone insane. You smell your love in your dreams, you just couldn’t hold yourself, and you become so very lost. You discover finery; you experience crazy things, your face glows. The raindrops transform the world around you. 

She is coming close to you, she is spoiling you, and she trespasses your lone galaxy. You are getting inside those curves of ultimate luxury; you are no more playing in the void. You fly, sing and create. You become unstoppable. You write sugary letters, you become a romantic poet. The ugly sun no more tortures you. You dance like a madman, you no more whine for that perfect happiness. She becomes your Helen, she becomes your Cleopatra. Maple leaves, champagne and a cosy winter hangover. You just feel like staying in bed forever. 

Winter gives you enough reason to smile. The celebrations in and around intensifies the warmth. It’s time to mingle; it’s time to decipher the unknown rain forest. It’s time to make love with your loneliness; it’s time to end that perpetual reverie. Someone needs you badly, someone’s waiting for you. She is still playing with her long curls just for you. Catch her or else she would just fly...

There’s no end to a surreal winter romance…

Photo Credit: goodtigermusic

Monday, November 08, 2010

The Hitchhiker and His Memories…

That innocent countryside, caravans, buffaloes, pretty lass, and some memories - the hitchhiker gets ready for his journey. He lifts his backpack and commences his voyage to see the evergreen. He flies across the world to catch a glimpse of harmony; he escapes to the farthest corner of the world to acquire the inaccessible nirvana…but everything isn’t just fine every time. There’s something in between the never-ending chaos and sheer bliss!

After losing everything – love, job, home. He decided to take a road leading to heaven. He was bored and was severely traumatized. Traveling was the only alternative left to rejuvenate his life. His eyes were always wet, his lips were always dry, and he is just hopelessly kept traveling through the narrow aisles. He was capturing everything with his digital eyes. He was running behind trains, he was trying to feel everything that’s beautiful. He was meeting people with different features, better than his.

He stumbles against a story that changes his life, he finds something that made him so very alive. The tale of the hitchhiker starts from here…

He meets an old lady. She was elegantly dressed in white. She gave him some white lilies and told him to feel them at the time of grief and happiness. The hitchhiker kept traveling in search of life. He was still unhappy and deserted. He was unable to feel life in and around him. He tried to feel the white lilies gifted by lady but couldn’t feel anything. He decided to go back home, embrace everything as it was. Suddenly, the lady appears again. She was looking little younger now. The hitchhiker was surprised to see her growing younger. He tried to feel the white lilies again. Suddenly, they became emotive. Oh yeah! He could feel them now. His heart began to throb louder. The place around him became brighter. He finally understood what she meant by 'feeling '. He realized it was not the white lilies he could feel but the whole world around him. Everything had come back to life as if charmed by the lilies' scent.

As the lady was growing younger, he felt all the happy moments she had gone through. He felt love and affection, he went through all her dreams and hopes, he felt the warmth of a pure heart. The lady disappeared but the scent of white lilies still lingers on.

Tonight, the hitchhiker is no more traveling. He is writing about his memories, he is praising the lady for transforming his heart which once grew old...


Photo Credit: Chris Begg

Saturday, November 06, 2010

Invisible Paying Guest

Big city, glamor, mini skirts, rich guy and some fun. Urban life is so very complex. There are so many hidden facets, there’s so many unheard tales. This is a story of Rhea. She was a hard working girl with very less friends. She loves music and photography. She occasionally drinks fruit beer.

Well! She is not that simple. She believes in staying together before marriage and hence decides to opt for a live-in relationship. Everything was fine in her life. She was busy molding her dreams. She was moving ahead of time. Rhea was getting everything she wanted – name, fame, love and sex. She was more than happy compared to her counterparts. She was just an invisible paying guest for her so-called PG mates.

There are many Rheas; there are so many invisible paying guests in and around a big city. Although our mindset is changing and evolving, still a bit of hypocrisy lingers on. People are yet very conservative about live-in relationships in a country like India.

People from all parts of the country come to study and work in a big city. Everybody’s busy and you aren’t an exception. Girls like Rhea love freedom but at the same time they don’t want to highlight their expressions. They just keep it subtle. They take a PG accommodation just for providing an assurance. They are the perfect urban girls who know their stuff.

Rhea is still staying in that PG. She pays five thousand every month. However, her partner is different now. She is having an affair with a journalist who keeps traveling. I like Rhea because she is smart. She knows her stuff, which is why she is shining and you are still dreaming about your prince charming on a cold November night…

Photo Credit: Google Images/

Wednesday, November 03, 2010

Dirty Womanizer

He carries a grin on his face. Silently gaze at everything, moves ahead, and seduce all fine things with grace. His mind never sleeps; he is on a constant prowl, he visits dingy corners, he is never satiated. He hates to be in a relationship, he constantly escapes. He keeps scribbling about his momentary affairs in his diary. He makes a long list of his misdeeds. He lives with a curse, he moves ahead without a feeling of guilt. He is promiscuous and insanely attractive.

Womanizing is touted to be a bad thing. The urban population is witnessing a steep rise. It’s a part of the dark human history where emotions and love takes a backseat. Philanderers are lonely, depressed and heartbroken. Sometimes it’s hereditary. How they are born? Womanizers are mostly shy. They are like silent killers. They have too less male friends. They aren’t very social. Their existence is often hidden inside the four walls. They are very soft, full of sugar and starch. They have pleasant demeanor. They know the art of mesmerizing anyone with their uncanny charm.

Money! Yes, they are rich if not charming. They have enough wealth to feed any dumb brunette, they have power. However, a seasoned womanizer may not need money or power, they are born with it. They have some magical powers to attract anyone, everyone they touch or meet. Skirt chasers are always hated by ordinary men.

Womanizing is an addiction; it’s something that keeps a womanizer alive and moving. He is self centered, heart less. He is so much into lust. The abundance of women in his life accentuates his status. He is so proud to be like that…

Are you a womanizer? Are you in love with a womanizer?