Tuesday, 15 April 2014

Caws of the crow

Don't laugh at me, or think that I have become slightly looney,
But of late, I have realised there's beauty in even crows.
That beauty unappreciated by most.
Back where I come from,
The cawing of crows is bad omen,
A sign that death approaches.
Here in Delhi, they seem to command a little bit of indifference.


What it was,
Would never be known.
Was it a reciprocated one,
Or one of the more common,
That of the unrequited sort.

Touched by tragic beauty,
Of the impossibility,
There was a longing,
And a sense of despair.

Song lyrics exchanged,
Each leading to a frantic decoding,
Of words unsaid.
Were words unspoken,
Or was it just a dying man's grasp.
That would remain unknown, undecoded.

Each meeting led to a reawakening,
Of something deep within.
Each awakening hastily suppressed,
Lest it turned the soul into hollowness.

With each glance, a silent goodbye.
And a hope, for clarity.
Kindred spirits we are, they say.
Or is it because of the unknown.
Lest things are unravelled,
And beauty be lost.
Let it stay amidst shadows,
Forever unspoken.

Thursday, 10 April 2014

Where the mind is without fear.. Of encounters of the smelly kind..

The air was stifling, as though someone had sucked up all the air in the atmosphere with a straw and left only a vacuum; sweltering heat ensured that the concrete I walked on roasted my feet through the thin flipflops I was wearing. A typical summer day in Delhi, of which enough poems of anguish are not written about.

Just as I was thinking my day could not get any worse, I crossed a gaggle of people;
And there it was, as I dodged my way past swinging arms, charging torsos and stamping feet, I was greeted with a concoction of odours, the kind that made me wish I owned a nose plug, a face mask, or even, was part of an ad campaign.. You know, one of those ads where the protagonist is armed with a bottle of deodorant and can thereby eliminate all the putrid stinks of the world, and attract the cool chicks and dudes.

Then again, life is not a movie, or an ad campaign; and while I wished for the first time in my life that I was blessed by the Lord with a blocked nose, my nasal parts were functioning just fine, inhaling the worst that mankind has to offer to those with noses.

Sometimes, on days when I feel philosophical, I wonder.. do these people like the rancid odour they emanate, does it make them feel alive? I mean, with an odour comparable to a fermenting, decomposing pile of garbage, surely one would feel the protests of the nasal area..

I wonder, have they ever heard of soaps, the variety of which increases with every passing day, each soap promising a world of celebrities sniffing you up in admiration, of dances under waterfalls, and of bathtubs filled with rose petals. Have they not seen how a single spray of certain deodorants can bring swarms of the bikini models and hunks charging towards you like you're freebies being handed out on christmas day?
Or perhaps, there is a sadistic pleasure to be had in torturing the living creatures of the world, of making people feel like passing out with a single whiff of breeze.

To the living souls of the world, hatched out of eggs with the notion of changing the world and saving the world, Arise and awake. Begin the day with a bath, douse thyselves in perfumes or deodorants; do some good to the world; it's bad enough there is murder, and poverty, and terrorism and god knows what else; in the 21st century, bad odour should not be added to our list of world problems.

I end this with a poem by the Great man himself-

Where the mind is without fear (of encounters of the smelly kind) and the head is held high,
Where fragrances are free, 
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments 
By narrow domestic walls (such as Fragrant people, and Stinky people),
Where words come out from the depth of truth 
Where tireless striving (of soaping and scrubbing) stretches its arms towards perfection 
Where the clear stream of reason (or maybe water) has not lost its way 
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit (of living with the stink),
Where the mind is led forward by thee 
Into ever-widening thought and action (Of knowing when to bathe and clean)
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake...

Note: The above poem has been slightly tweaked to fit in the situation.



Friday, 21 March 2014

The Princess of Kingdom far far away, A 21st century fairytale

(The kingdom's tailors were pretty lousy)
Once upon a time, In a kingdom far far away,
Lived a beautiful princess, untouched by technology.
Her clothes were stitched by the kingdom's tailors,
And shoes hand-crafted by the cobbler who lived by the palace.

One fine day, a dashing nerd driving a Smart car stumbled upon the Kingdom, Armed with his laptop and debit cards.
He fell into a spell of love on seeing the princess,
And decided to rescue her from the drab wardrobe and shoes.

He whipped out his laptop, and guided her vision to the world that lay within,
Needless to say, she was enchanted,
She turned to him and said- Take me away, my knight with shining armour,
Take me away to the world where beauty can be summoned with the click of a mouse.

The young man marvelled at her innocence,
And a feeling of sympathy boiled in him for her deprivement.
How was a naive lass like her to know,
These goods of beauty lay at her beck and call.

All her life she had lived on the blind side,
Unaware of Jabong, Flipkart and Cash-on-Delivery,
Of their Coupons, and bargains, and cashbacks.
A feeling of benovalence took over him,
He swore his princess would never go without these necessities of life again.

And so the princess and her prince,
Lived happily ever after, In their kingdom far far away,
Spending their days shopping together.
You know what they say,
Couples who shop together, stay together,
Forever and always.

The end.

This post is a part of the Shop, only to Save More! Activity by GoPaisa.com in association with BlogAdda.com.

Wednesday, 19 March 2014

The Smelly and the Fragrant- A documentary

*White Noise*
*Documentary a la Discovery Channel style begins*

Though the species have evolved over decades, and have to an extent learned to create a killer concoction of odours which include some perpetually-on-sale-deodorants, they have still not learned to use the necessities provided by well wishing brands to the best of the other kind's advantage.

And so, both kinds live on, very much aware of the other's existence (unfortunately), separated by the black and white line of good odour and bad odour.
Most of the smelly kind look on, longingly to the Fragrant for they can never understand how the latter could have mastered the use of Water and soap to remain bearable to those who co-exist in their habitat.
Some of the Smellies, however, ignorant beings that they are, remain unaware of the living hazards their existence poses on their neighbours and unfortunate near-and-dears.

*Shot cuts to the other side of the concrete jungle- where people bathe under water falls and fancy showers, refreshed looks on their faces, singing fresh songs; epitomy of happiness and the good life*

The Fragrant live on, drunk on their good fortune (of having discovered, well, good odours); and yet once a while they glance towards their lessers; whisper to themselves #WhatsThatSmellBoss, toss soaps and bucketfulls of water, and what not towards said lessers, but the lesson is often never learned.

Ignorance has proven to not be a bliss, for both the Smelly Kind and the Fragrant Kind (for they possess noses, you know) and there still remains a wistful thinking in the minds of most- that one day, in the near future (very near future preferred), the Smellies will awake and arise to their circumstances.. That they will go in pursuit of water and soap, and use these to procure the basic fundamental right which is guaranteed to all- the Right to a Life, free from bad odour and all.

*Documentary fades out*
*Raccold Water heater advert plays*

*White Noise*

Saturday, 15 February 2014

Why so 'Hashtag Condition serious' hai?

The wise bloke Chuck Palahnuik once said- “You are not special. You're not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We're all part of the same compost heap. We're all singing, all dancing crap of the world.” 

How I wish most of the 'mahaan purush'es of the world would take this advice seriously. After all, the serious issue that seriously plagues this oh-so-serious-world is that we take things too seriously. Do you seriously understand what I mean?

To truly understand the great souls that grace the hinterlands of India, a trip to one of the big fat Indian weddings would suffice, for it is the flamboyant settings of these great affairs that we find the characters seeing whom one can do nothing but hash-tag Condition Serious Hai.

The wedding itself firstly is the epitome of #ConditionSeriousHai- opulent settings- farmhouses miles away from Delhi or a swanky Five star hotel, decorated with all the available lights of the world; with food enough to induce obesity in the lankiest of the lankiest; and the aunties wearing all the gold in the world enough to force passerby's to wear sunglasses in order to avoid being blinded by the garishness.
Forget celebrations, these are fashion shows of wealth amassed through all sorts of black and white activities- I mean how can Bitoo's mother be outdone by Chintu's, how can Pinky's aunty be wearing so and so when Silky comes wearing an in-style Masaba. The competition is so stiff and serious that months before a wedding millions of brain cells are exhausted in the selection of the right draperies and accessories. 

The wedding day itself is two soap operas running alongside, the first being the actual wedding where the aunties gather around the bride and groom and cry about how quickly the children have grown up, accompanied by some already wondering when they would be blessed with offsprings for them to pamper and spoil. The other being the not so close to kin folks who participate in a Koffee-with-Karan style gossip chat of the happenings (and not so happening's) of town.

No sooner has the shenanigans of one wedding ended, these souls will return to their abodes and prepare their ammunitions for the next wedding to grace the town. Ting ting round *enter wedding number*

Truly, attending these events are a Dummies guide to ConditionSeriousHai affected Mentals of the world.

This is my entry for the Indiblogger contest:  http://www.indiblogger.in/topic.php?topic=102

Tuesday, 11 February 2014


And you make my battles yours,
For that there's gratitude.
But when you make it all you, you, you,
And leave me no control,
When you hog over the remote control of my life,
And dictate the terms and conditions,
There's a rebellion in my very soul's existence.
Stifled, A feeling of Claustrophobia taking over,
Breathing space, there's none.

There's a fear within,
The world will swoop past,
While I am still bound by the chains of my sustenance.

Thursday, 6 February 2014

Dreaming about the dreaming spires

From the moment my father handed me that first book which I hungrily demolished in a matter of days, it has been a dream, to study amidst its dreamy spires and brush shoulders with its legendary figures. Visiting King's Cross and the highlands of Scotland only served to cement my decision further.

No prizes for guessing the Institute of Interest then.

Attending a mundane university with the rest of the muggles holds no promise or excitement for someone like me, who is convinced that it is in the magical school of Hogwarts where I belong.
Over the years, with each book of the series devoured, I have admired afar the interesting curriculum offered at Hogwarts.

The sheer variety of interesting subjects offered is reason enough for me to pack my bags and zip my way through to Platform 9 3/4 and board the next Hogwarts Express to Hogwarts. Astronomy, Dark Arts, Flying, Potions, Transfiguration and Charms are so much more indispensable to human existence than the ubiquitous Biology, Chemistry, and Mathematics.

I have already decided that with my area of expertise and talent when it comes to musical skills, Frog choir is just the right co-curricular activity for me to excel in. Moreover, my phobia of flying aside, I would love to fly with flying colours in Quidditch and bring honour and glory to my House. About that, I intend to convince the Sorting Hat that all my fears and cowardice aside, Gryffindor is just where I belong, to walk in the dormitories once habited by legends like Harry, Hermoine, Neville and Luna Lovegood.

When Magical Creature, Lady Gaga visited Hogwarts 
As for my specialization, it would have to be in Care of magical creatures. I think it is only with a subject specialization like that, that Magical creatures such as Lady Gaga would allow me to serve them as their Personal Assistant. Oh wait, you thought Lady Gaga was human?! Think again, fellows, think again.

I have often been asked by peers the reason for my determination to get into Hogwarts, and I will share with you what I told them. It lies in the magic, I believe in the powers of magic, and where better to find that literally than in the world of Hogwarts.
The location appeals to me greatly too; having studied in England and getting the opportunity to travel around the UK has brought me to the realisation that it is the castles amidst the emerald wilderness of Scotland that I belong.

So, selectors of potential Hogwarts, kindly consider my application for I am waiting rather fervently for Hagrid to come on his flying motorcycle with my letter of acceptance.


Saturday, 25 January 2014

Why so serious!?

Being an active element in the social media world of tweets and facebook and all that has meant constantly bumping into constant debates about right, wrong, acceptable and not acceptable.

The recent one being the 'Oh lord, Hollywood celebs are wearing the bindis. Tsk tsk how dare they.. so offensive' debacle. 

Maybe it's because of the assimilated background that I grew up in, the exposure I got from coming in contact with diverse people, but I fail to understand what the big debate is about..

The bindi, in its traditional form, as far as I know, is limited to the red dot kind, signifying marriage and thus being strictly a Hindu custom.

But when the decorative forms have been used by people of all walks of life, all religions even in India,  what is the big deal in people of other countries doing so?
Isnt it a form of appreciation towards our rich culture and heritage?

Cultural appropriation they say?
This particular paragraph in a blog post on the issue got me saying Eh!?

"What makes the non-South Asian person’s use of the bindi problematic is the fact that a  pop star like Selena Gomez wearing one is guaranteed to be better received than I would if I were  to step out of the house rocking a dot on my forehead. On her, it’s a bold new look; on me, it’s a symbol of my failure to assimilate. On her, it’s unquestionably cool; on me, it’s yet another marker of my Otherness, another thing that makes me different from other American girls. If the use of the bindi by mainstream pop stars made it easier for South Asian women to wear it, I’d be all for its proliferation — but it doesn’t. They lend the bindi an aura of cool that a desi woman simply can’t compete with, often with the privilege of automatic acceptance in a society when many non-white women must fight for it.

I understand being a little flummoxed at the rage that the bindi issue inspires in our community. The anger always seems disproportionate to the crime. But will I celebrate the “mainstreaming” of a South Asian fashion item? Nope. Not when the mainstream doesn’t accept the people who created it."

We live in a globalised world, the 21st century where more and more people are learning to co-exist with each other with a feeling of oneness. No, I am not delusional enough to think that now people of all races can live together, all sorts of the evil -isms aside.. but to assume now that the Bindis worn by South Asian women are still frowned upon by all outside the subcontinent? 

Things have changed. Just look outside, and you would see.

The Mainstream as the above article calls the people, have been more accepting of diversity than ever before,  and to still compartmentalise traditions and cultures as 'ours only, not for them' is dangerous for the cohesion the world so needs.

As long as the intentions stay true, as long as the bindis and all that arent worn in a way to insult us and our culture,  I say, let it be.

P.S I am aware of the racial issues that still exist, of the narrow-mindedness of some.. but the sharing and embracing of culture should cease to be an issue to occupy countless tweets over.

P.P.S the world's a better place when you sit back, chill, not get your panties in a twist, and take life so seriously. The world's not out to annihilate us, not just yet anyway.