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, January 29, 2011

The Eternal Quagmire

No time for love – Are you single? Do you have no one to pat your back when you achieve something?  Are you looking for friendship with any damn girl? Do you have those eternal cravings for those long lost hugs? Are you alone this valentine?

Suddenly she calls you, curses you badly. Unexpectedly the sky around become dusky, there’s no one to stroll in the park, there’s no one to go shopping, there’s only that vague shadow of her…

She is there near you; still you feel so less of her. You are running from life, running away from your own shadow, restlessly spending time doing nothing, just nothing. The sky outside your balcony is sunny but you are gladly hiding behind the shrubs.

Everybody is moving ahead, you are just getting down the stairs, everyone’s touching the heavens, and you are still rotting there. You write love letters, compose stories, you sometimes sing but she is so unaware of your feelings, she just love to curse you day in day out.

For god’s sake stop scribbling emotional pages of fiction – she says with utter frustration. He smiles, stands up and hugs her. They go for a long ride, watches the most romantic movie. They are a sweet couple, they keep fighting, they keep rejoining, they just love to pester one another. Sometimes they take a break from the monotonous urban life and escapes to their respective small towns. She is so practical while he never wakes up from his dream. He keeps weaving magical stories, she keeps gazing at him. He loves the absurdity while she praises the beauty. They both have no similar taste yet they mingle so brilliantly. He wakes up from his long slumber, finds her near his arms. Kisses are rosy cheeks and bids farewell to that beautiful dream….

It happens when you are in love, it only happens to you, it never allows your partner know, it just makes you crazy, you just become so lost between the reality and fiction. The eternal quagmire lingers on…

What’s your story? 

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Thursday, January 27, 2011

The Mystifying Bhangarh…

They say the place is cursed and one shouldn’t visit the ruined town after sunset. There are evil forces, there are strange animals, the roofless facades and the eerie Haweli could make you uncomfortable even during daytime. I wish they were just false presumptions and man made stories but they aren’t.

10 friends decided to decipher the noise behind the uncanny Bhangarh fort supposedly known as the most haunted place in India.  They hired a Tata Qualis, packed some beer cans, whiskey, a fresh lemon and got all set to decode the unknown. They were unaware about the road ahead but they were very much inquisitive to get a glimpse of the place known for its eeriness even in an era where almost nobody believes in the existence of ghosts. They were picked by the benevolent cab driver from various places like Gautam Nagar, Nehru Place and Lajpat Nagar. It was a bright moonlit night in Delhi; there were marriages and parties going on all around the city. The journey started at 12 O’clock midnight. Everybody updated their Facebook status before leaving Delhi saying “Going to Bhangarh – The most haunted place in India – Wish us luck”. 

The foggy winter night was pleasurable for everyone as they were enjoying the mist touching the window screen. They thought of playing the customised CD especially made for the trip but suddenly the CD player crashed.  Music is so important someone said from the backseat. No worries, there are cell phones – someone replied. Finally there were old Hindi classic songs for a respite. The story behind Bhangarh’s disturbing atmosphere was so very fascinating. The Tantrik (Evil magician) became the main topic of discussion among them. There are no Ghosts, they are just crap I bet – Kapil quotes from the backseat. Maybe there are some animals instead. Everybody made a picture in their mind. The talk continued and the music played in the background gave a soothing touch to the journey. The Jaipur highway was smooth as ever.

The car stopped and everyone rushed to the nearby open space to lighten a bit. The highway restaurant called “The Village” was almost deserted.  13 beer canes, 10 whiskey bottles down and finished. It was a party well celebrated before the dawn.  They resumed their journey. Ojhas started to express his feelings about everyone including Vikram (his roommate)with complete ease. He became the sole narrator and everyone just listened to him. It was around 4’O clock the car stopped again for a brief break where they had the finest tea served at that countryside Dhaba. It was fun to see laidback villagers infornt of the winter fire. They took some photographs and moved on.

The car flew fast amid lush locales of Rajasthan. It was more of Punjab than Rajasthan as there was mustard plantation everywhere. The journey continued and finally the destination was coming nearer. Nobody knew the actual direction to Bhangarh so they decided to ask a passer-by about how many kilometres and which direction to go. A meek looking boy in his twenties quivered when they said Bhangarh. He said - It’s 40 kilometres ahead uneasily…

Again we have so much hours left to travel – someone said unenthusiastically. It was getting frustrating. The road started to become narrow. The sceneries around began to change slowly. The leafless trees, the, peacocks and weird faces gave them a hint of Bhangarh. They were finally inside the faint territory. They could see the big Bhangarh fort sitting silently amid that desolate hill. There were less people around. The first sight of the ruined town was pleasing. There was a lull inside the cab before approaching the cursed area….

Things are different in books of literature. There’s so much fiction but Bhangarh is truly different. They began to make fun of the ghosts as they were unaware about the coming danger. They decided to have their lunch at the arena but couldn’t. The monkeys attacked them and took their plates away. There were around 100 monkeys and everything fell apart when they began their rampage. All plates were snatched away including a bed sheet. The monkeys in the fort were the real monkeys. They were ruthless, fast and naughty. They thought of leaving the not-so safe place for human beings at the very moment but they couldn’t do as the temples, Dancer’s fort and the much hyped Tantrik’s residence was still left to visit.

The wind around the place gave them a different feeling which wasn’t very pleasing. Two friends got separated to explore the place and the rest kept gazing at the natural swimming pool. The sky was turning dark. It was almost sunset and there were no place left that was unvisited except the Tantrik’s residence. The ghost town of Bhangarh has no Ghosts left I guess – Rakesh said to his friend Ashish. Suddenly there was a loud noise. It was like a roar. That wasn’t a Tiger but something called Jarak that roams around the fort. Jarak loves to eat knees and elbows and gives no chance to the humans to flee. The noise followed them. They found an ancient earring, a finger ring inside the caves. They decided to leave the place as soon as possible. The trip was a success, but the fresh lemon that they took at the onset of the trip turned red that testifies the presence of something there. They sat, exchanged stories, laughed about the place but there was always a feeling of awe inside them about Bhangarh. Everyone was happy with the overall experience but something was really very unusual about the place, something that’s beyond description, beyond reach. The curse still lingers on. May be it will stay for generations…

(True Story)

                                                      (Tantrik's Residence)

History of Bhangarh

The history of the place is dark, whimsical and lusty. The princess of Bhangarh was beautiful; her tempting curves became her enemy. An evil magician was enticed deeply by her divine presence. He tried to seduce her with his black magic but his intentions were never fulfilled. He was rather killed because of his own ploy. The magical bathing oil that he crafted to attract the princess became the reason for his death. He thought of acquiring the Princess as soon as she employs the oil and come running to him for satiating his sexual motives but she was well aware of his plan. She threw the bottle of oil upon a big rock that rolled down towards the evil magician and crushed him but before his last breath, he cursed the city and eventually the blooming metropolis was destroyed within few months. No one survived; the trapped souls still craves to move out of the place. Although Bhangarh became a tourist spot now but the air around the place still haunts you badly…

Sunday, January 09, 2011

The Great Indian Poverty

Overcrowded train stations, slums, beggars, thieves, potholes, disparity, hatred, racism, ego driven generation, freezing cold and the great Indian poverty. The rise of hypocrisy, the want for more money, the thugs, the rude capital and the silent majority dwelling, purring, dying, without proper justice…

Writing about love without a valid affair is utter fiction,
Writing about poverty with a full stomach is sheer hypocrisy. India is a poor country but we never admit the very fact of being poor. We see homeless children everywhere begging for money, pestering you every morning but we hardly give them a penny.

We blog to feed every underprivileged children, we cry when we see their videos, we smile when we hear their success stories, we forget, we move on. The tide takes us, we crave for a better tomorrow but the poverty lingers on. There are benevolent souls, there are responsible corporate, there are successful politicians, there are unpublished writers, there’s you, there’s me, there is a whole bunch of people trying to shed the planted dust from the beautiful horizon…

Writers don’t have anything to give, they just have some words, some emotions, they are hardly anyone to change the very world but there’s always a hope inside them to experience a beautiful sunshine. One day they would lean on the hammock and gaze at the clear sky and see no tears falling, poverty would just become a fiction.

There would be blankets for every old man shivering in a cold winter night, there would be schools for every orphan, there would be only love, and there would be no class distinctions. The humanity would rise that day…

I am no social worker, no politician but I crave for a better tomorrow for my country so that we don’t have to move outside, we don’t have to stay away from our loved ones, we don’t have to shed tears in our lonely corner. I have nothing to give, nothing to preach, I just have some words to purge poverty. I hope to see the sunshine one day; I still don’t think that we are living in a poor country…

Feed a Child Now

Tuesday, January 04, 2011

Riding High Along the Mesmerizing Tide…

Open, exhilarated and endlessly pleasurable, the ray of sudden joy peeping through the squashy closet, the benevolent thrust making enough noise to ease the deep ungrateful cacophony, the tide flawlessly taking you to the place where you wish to be and the mask is separated forever. Dreams of shine, images of pure feelings, the thunder and the lightening are still looking young. The couch where you sleep is becoming cosier. The poetic mood is making you restless; the song from the new singer is creating enough ecstasy. The cup of coffee is continuously exuding curly smokes of desire; the shadows are mutely disappearing along the tide. The gusty rooftop is chilled and happy. The fires outside your porch making you feel unharmed and lazy. The blanket is cuddling and caressing your naked legs, the green valleys, the countryside and those urban complications is uniformly creating a beautiful canvass. You are traveling at light speed with your laidback thoughts, you are atop the snowy mountains with an unloaded backpack, you are flying in your dreamy jet plane, you are humming, and you are kissing your face in the mirror. You are posing like a Rockstar, you are amazingly riding high along the mesmerizing tide without a whimper, without that deep sting, and without those heavy bundles of history…you are just riding high!