We all live in turbulent times. Terrorism lends a constant specter on our lives. This wasn’t really the thought in my head as I ran to catch my local fast to reach office on time. But even before i could comfort myself on the thought that I made it to the train, something else caught my attention. This lady in a purple Gujarati sari at the door telling the train driver something or at least trying to get his attention to something. Now of course no one was bothered, so I decided to ask her what was troubling her. She turned to look at me actually surprised that someone was asking her or rather taking an interest. ‘ upper khali bag pada hai jo kiska nahi hai’ she says. And immediately my journalistic instincts come to the fore and I and I start actually searching for the bag. Seeing me actually hunt some other less interested passengers also take the effort to find out what happened. I finally find the bag in the other half of the compartment and actually wonder that this lady who found it there actually took the ads asking us to be serious and look out for empty bags seriously. Any way I ask the compartment if the bag is anybody’s property. And then starts the confusion. The same ladies who did not bother to think about the bag panic and start a commotion.

Meanwhile the overtly conscientious had managed to get the attention of the train driver who was quite wondering if this whole thing was a joke. A brown color khaki dressed worker who had seen this whole commotion was quite some time finally decided to get done with and walked into the compartment and lifted the bag. And then I realized something really important, the so-called brave mumbaiker who actually saves people’s lives was just like this man who was risking his life and who wanted to that done with. Most of the hundreds who had saved countless lives had done it just like him, without a thought of what will happen in the next moment, or if he will live to see it. In this situation this guy probably knew the fact that it was probably a hoax but when one uses him as a microcosm in the whole picture we get to see the actual face of the tired hapless mumbaiker who actually saves people in times of disaster.

Anyways coming back to my story, the bag actually turned out to be a broken one abandoned by some one who didn’t think that it would cause so much of a mystery or be a doppelganger for a bomb. All’s well the train started and the conscientious lady went back to her knitting while the rest of the ‘scared’ passengers went back to relating the experience to their loved ones on the phone. In the midst of all this I realized that there were quite a number of students in the train who silently went on solving their maths problems and just spared an amused glance towards this lady who raised the commotion. And in their amusement I saw something more clearly than anything. I kind of saw the cause and the reason for the terrorists actually achieving success in their bomb blasts. I saw apathy, which was a lot more chilling than the fact that I had just been saved by a mere ‘uneducated’ lady.

kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill
ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore
be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed be killed
ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore
wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch wretch
ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore
work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work
feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign feign
improve improve improve improve improve improve improve improve improve improve improve
crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap
crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib crib
cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry cry
ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore ignore
anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger anger
fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake
smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile
kill....

Nameless one

Upon lonely roads
We tread,
Holding hands together
We feel the sudor

We squirm at this
Yet look on
to find a future
among foggy roads

She turns while walking
seeing him overcoming a hurdle
with unmentionable ease
his posture set his eyes ahead

she turns her gaze on herself
doodling on the pages of her memory
uncertainty any movement
she feels the water trickle down

she pushes these incertitude of thoughts
her sore throat quelling her voice
she sits through lectures writing crappy poems
and yet the devices find soul

What is the point?
the cynic questions
strangers walk past averting their gaze
the hypocrisy stinks itself
she still walks silently

the sweat now mildly disconcerting

she quizzes herself
time and again
the past, the present, the future
all swirl in a mixture of cliques
she grasps an answer through this mess
'you are a fool' she condemns herself

he still walks on
her slowing pace lengthening his worth
'let her rest' he contemplates
for the journey is far ahead

little he knows her thoughts
her trembling hands he steadies
ready to battle all her fears
he knows not her demons

Quietly she readies herself
loosening his grip keeping calm
far ahead far behind she sees a fork
she knows not, the moment is long gone.


Jalimelys88

Mindless Banter

Reticent motions addle the brains,
Spring dosent seem that lively,
Rains dampen the spirit
What am I doing here?

Roads, mists, forks, choices,
Symmetry and analysis
Have lost meaning,
What am I doing here?

Poem, poetry, prose, plot, analogues,
Narrative, speech, words, actions,
Interpretations mean a pig’s ass
What am I doing here?

If persuasion is meaningless,
If perversion is a mockery,
If capacious is a pursuit of the foolhardy
What am I doing here?

Swati D'souza

Magic, A Kiss and Some More Magic

Have you ever wondered what you and I would have done without the staple feed of magic and its various Branches, How a miserable riot of mundane activities could have strangled and suffocated us beneath its succulent self? But we really do not have to bother of it now do we? With Harry Potter Movie (being the latest in the stable of Magical and other world fantasy movies) our magical Appetites have been more than satisfied.

After all the rules that one has heard about not comparing the movie with the book this one actually belies the presumption. It’s an adaptation worth being proud of for David Yates. Ardent fans like me would often discuss the sketchy adaptation and the poor image by which it resembled the book. However book 5 was something that I remember myself to have said that “god I am so not seeing the movie” for nothing else but the long length of the dialogues and the most boring build-up to the end unlike the other books. However one would be most surprised if the movie were to say something about the book. Every unwanted bit has been edited and thrown away in the garbage heap of unused HP parts in the book.

And yet story or no story Hollywood sure knows how to kiss (or rather show one). Having practiced for 33 times Harry “Daniel” Potter would now have to be a pro at going about the process in the forthcoming series. As usual like the other HP movies the sidekicks (Ron and Hermione) really have no other role to play in the movie except for filling up the frame. The Weasely twins too would have cringed at the length of the role and would have probably bombed the HP set with their Weasely Bombs. Daniel Radcliffe thus being the center of the plot gives us his best skills hitherto in acting. Without setting the stage alight he manages to convey his anguish subtly. Ralf Fiennes in his Voldemort bit sure does make us shake in the boots. However the most disappointing bit in the whole story for any fan would have to be the fight between Dumbledore and Voldemort. A blink-and-you-will-miss-it one never really knows where is the extended fight with the wizard, goblin and the elf.

With Eragon being the disappointing one this one sure makes up for the not only itself but also the other not-so-great HP movies. Probably not so much better than the fourth it makes one really believe that Harry lives, the “kiss” lives and more than anything the Magic Lives. And yet if not anything it keeps our panting quiet and our thirsts quenched at least till the last Volcano in the series. “TO HARRY”

THis was written as part of some project so decided to post it onto a redundant blog

The Colours of the Pink City

It’s not everyday that one gets to savor a typical rajasthani cuisine or hear stories about the Rajas and Maharajas and get transported in time. Therefore when the opportunity arose for us to visit Jaipur, we jumped and grabbed the chance with two hands.

Of Course one must look into the trivialities of reaching the destination, therefore the tickets were booked and there we were in the New Year on our way through a chilly night. Our destination of Ranthambore via the Sawai Madour junction didn’t disappoint us in any way except probably for the lack of tigers. The chilliness in the air did a lot to increase our vigor towards play and food which was just too good. However the tigers disappointed us. Two hours of sun, dust and more dust which left most of us looking like carpenters and yet we saw no tigers nor any paw. However the Rajasthani folk dance at night soared our spirits also made us conscious of the fact that city bred folks need to learn a lot more from rural India about culture. The next morning after a visit a long climb and a dekko of a local fort we were off to Jaipur and Chowkidhanee. Thoughts of shopping lanes and more rajasthani delicacy created mirages throughout the way in everyone’s head.

And Chowkidhanee refused to disappoint that mirage. The exotic village make-believe enthralled us for a good 2 hours with its Kadai Doodh, Hair Massage, Mehendi Palmistry and a lot more. However it was the gastronomic food will keel the place alive in our hearts for the sheer size and taste of the meal. Truly we had enough of a Rajasthani meal and yet craved for more. The next day we finished of with our industrial visit of a Newspaper and a Radio Station both of which we learnt and enjoyed but we had seen better earlier (being in Bombay that is). The Jantar Mantar and Amer fort held our interest purely because of the artistry and sheer magnificence of the place and the knowledge of building in that era. A new jaipuri band was formed: the “Neel Kants”, which happily kept us occupied during the night along with the ‘Dj nite’. However our hearts were impatient for shopping and thus we awarded with a full 2 hours for shopping. For shoppoholics this would be slander but we had a train to catch.

With bags ranging with bed sheets for the house to ethinic jaipuri camel ethnic chappls, we were ready to enter the train. On the way back memories of the trip, its food as well as the last trip to Delhi plagued us. But a novel game of black jack soon kept us busy throughout the journey and with a blink we were back to the dust and grime of Bombay with nothing but our souvenirs and the thought of the gastronomic portions of rajasthani food to serve us company until the next trip.

Blogspeak

Yes yes i know its been far too long after my first address. but then again there have been other issues to address too. like for example my dear mistress has been some what active on the blog...(thank god the first address was written in blogspeak, and plus she was too dumb to understand) Anyways the first issue that I think needs to be looked into is what is happening in the world around us and believe me a hell LOT is happening. The blog president resigned on account of sexual allegations against him (poor chap!) that was raked up by the blogmedia for like a whole fortnight...what work did I have in that you ask? but of course my dear blogs i was invited to as many blogger networks to speak about the improper conduct of some one as esteemed as our dear Blohead... and then as soon as that got done and the fire died down, I thought of leaving on a vacation for like duo weeks when a rival world called blofarce decided to set base on our source code..believe me i had to speak like for hours in the Blambase till they decided to take military action against the traitors...aahhh the rest of it I am sure you have followed in the bloppers recently. Anyway by then I had resolved that i would take a break of at least a week aah but then again the great Bijuse wasn't ready to concede his defeat...therefore the third problem that followed was that my blogirlfriend decided that since i was not giving her enough time she might as well as shift to mindspace for more fun...the time it takes to handle girls even in the virtual world is amazingly loooooooong..anyways once all that was done i was left with no stamina to think of anything beleive me nothing....

And yet our cause couldn't be left stranded and what would i tell my other brothers especially those to whom i had boasted of having sufficient blogs listening to me...so i have drafted my first initial points:

1) I will not be addressing just my issue but will be looking at the issues that all of us as a community face

2) No this is no political association but just another community like "i like blog and blogspeak" or "the society of uninterested blogs"

3) I need help to develop the language "blogspeak"

4) No porn or POrn related issues here (for those of us who like to view this voyeristc pleasure i shall direct you to further other sites but seriously guys i thought porn was for those stupid humans but then again even the best of us fail at times)

5) No more bitching about my creator, she likes to sleep let her....We will have a more worldly view of things around like "the bandwidth is more juicy here than any other portal in the milky way-to use a human term)

6) Any one interested in joining in the worldly appreciation of our Blohead is welcome

7) a Blojob is NOT similar to the derogatory terms that humans use

8) I still haven't decided what to use instead of the term in blogspeak though

9) aah now i am bored and tired

10) THe above point is not there by mistake but is very much related to those of us who have creators using relentlessly. (like this friend of my creators uses one of our borhters evne while shagging...i mean come on give me a break!!!!!!)


Sigh!!!! now that i have come up with some things i need to leave something's up with my blogirlfriend...she wishes me to accompany her for a nonsensical showing of the popular "bloup"
Stupid blo i tell you but one has to please the female species everywhere in the universe like this other time an anthropide was telling me that his wife......aah well no time now some other time i guess

Thousands Splendid Suns- A Review

Figure this- 2 women, a chronicle of 3 decades, and a stunning style of writing. This is what Hosseini provides us in his latest venture. A Thousand Splendid Suns is exactly what it tells you Splendid. Set against the background of not-yet-torn Afghanistan it begins with the story of Mariam, a girl living in her own world of beauty and some breathless awestruck moments spent with her father ; a world which is later shattered by her own misgivings or fate. Married of to a man who strictly adheres to the rule that women are not to progress she remains at various points in the book unhappy credulously astounded and amazingly shattered by the antics and behaviour of her husband. Here the story is cut short to Laila and Tariq and their childhood romance reminiscent of all our first encounter with love. This world is happily broken down when tariq moves to Pakistan leaving Laila alone with a moaning mother and a hapless father. However this torture too seems better than what she begins to endure when left orphaned by her a bomb and becoming Mariam’s sister. After this her whole life is set in the bonds set up alternatively by rasheed and the Taliban, that is till Tariq comes to her rescue. The book ends with all the special effects worthy of a movie with a murder and a trial that would shock the world at large.

Chronicling 3 decades of a Nation at reckless and yet an unassuming speed with all its implausible high and lows Khaled Hosseini has kept his word with us, a word that he had to give at the end of Kite Runner- of being a great if not the best Human Interest story writer in recent times. Stupendous in his style of hooking the reader and almost making the make-believe characters and the world real is probably one of the best attributes that one can applaud this writer of. One of the many migrant writers he makes us fall in love with Afghanistan almost making us belittle and curse the Soviets and then the Afghanistanis for fooling around and destroying a land so beautiful in culture and tradition. One can almost hear the pleas and the moans of the Buddha Monuments they were being torn apart. An intrinsic view of the Taliban rule puts all our thought process in limbo at the rate at which the rulers had wanted to take the country back in time. Imbibing this medieval attitude into the storyline and crafting it this well almost makes us compare Hosseini in the same league as Pamuk.

Any overwritten parts in the narration are looked over as one really doesn’t notice these overdrawn periods assuming them to be in sync and indeed necessary for the storyline to progress. If however something disappoints it is that pattern of writing doesn’t change. Thus one has this mistaken feeling of returning to the Kite Runner every now and then. However if that is the price we have to pay then this book or must I say an abridged version of the story of a country long forgotten by the world, is a read. If not for anything for but the heart wrenching emotions it builds up in you not for anyone but for a land and people who would have been at some other place hadn’t destiny had something else in store for them.

Death at her Hands

1 pair of windows,

A door of passions

2 hearts of love,

20 downing street

And you were born

2 pairs of hands and feet

Bobbing mahogany dark heads

Long inimitable hours of wait

Incomparable periods of morning sickness

And dreams were born

A new renovated house

Crowded groaning celebrations

Squealing tiny carriages

And moments of utter desperation

A family was born

Moments of Irrefutable hope

Followed by hours of Plunging despair

The small uttering of a powerful word

Followed by decades of happy bliss

Treasures were nurtured.

Small dreams Small Hopes

Concrete words and powerful gestures

The first fall, initial moments of malady

A flash of helplessness and the surrender to ecstasy

We were re-born.

Initial symptoms that tricked

Pain that turned into unchanging agony

Bliss that flipped to fear then paranoia

Worry etched in our lives

We still lived

Dreams turned to despair

Emptiness that took control

A dark looming future

That was changing our lives

And yet we clung on.

The hours of interminable hospital waits

The sickly pungent repelling odor

The monotone of white-washed walls

The pearly white bed with beeps

It was now life

Hours turned to weeks to months

Despair ever nurtured now family

Hope the elusive lantern at the tunnel-end

We waited, we hoped, we prayed.

Past never ceases present haunts

And the mist ahead serves to frighten

And yet a hollow world we aphorized

Filled with misery and pain

An unceasing wait to regain life

To Faint and yet live.

Life is but a series of pathways now

Its meaning lost in the labyrinth of mazes

A moving train to a nameless journey

A death more anticipated

We will be born again….

Blogspeak

Hi! I am swati's blog and though i am not very proficient in the art of conveying my message to the world i am now hoping that this message reaches the people especially my creator who is on the verge of becoming the most laziest person on blogspeak.(which by the way is my own language under which i am trying to get other blogs). Anyways let me not diverge from my topic of essential conversation which is that I am now going to write about myself on myself and from myself. If any of you didn't get the meaning of this efficient method of speaking i suggest that you again but your own copy of blogspeak dictionary (extremely beneficial especially to the basically illiterate users of blogging) the reason of i me myself inventing blogspeak is none other than the wish to speak about myself but of course i already mentioned that. But the real reason has to be kept covert for none other than the fact that my extremely stupid and yet overtly profound creator might just might check on her now supposedly defunct blog and find that someone is using it and might get all hyped up and start another series of boring profoundly confusing poems about her unimportant state of mind. Now we all know that none of us are pretty much interested in reading the same things over and over again so we best let her think that this blog is defunct and therefore all our actions and motto will now be spoken in extreme terms of blogspeak security(the list of which will be appearing in rather covert language in further posts) till then my friends and other other not-so-good-friends and outright enemies........

*&&%%#$$%#*(*(

achievement, opines, perspire and bleed!
success commands, bow down and serve
spirits athirst deny this call, and suffer when freedbut
create anew,
through heavy heart, and flayed nerve.

Karthik Balsubramanium

Some moments are not the best and yet they are the ones that stay with you alwayz...
this statement made by a friend of mine struck me the most odd... you see we often characterize out best moments as the ones that would be with us and yet those are not the ones that one goes back to in time of need...when i mention need i mean those ephemeral times when one feels crushed by everything around (nowadays those times are no longer brief i must add). How do these tiny moments help us..what is their influence in our life?? Why do we give emotions, moments so much importance in our lives...i often find people around me talking about so much that i would find unnecessary to to discuss especially when the world around keeps behaving strangely like the court passing unnecessary decisions just to generate controversy as if the current scenario wasn't enough. diverting my thought here minority and Reservations seem to be the hot topic of this season just like last year and with tamil nadu wanting to provide reservations for even Catholics and Muslims may the One to whom we all humble down save us... It would then seem that only the intellectual fools stay within the bracket of majority.... Anyway comming back to my rant yeah so it was till sometime back that i realized that probably i was really looking down on these people with a very biased view.. Because you see just cause one sets a high standard for oneself dosen't mean that the rest of the world has to follow you..and also i noticed one thing i might not continually talk about those so-called time waster but yes there were times when i needed to relieve one's chest of those packs and yes again friends seem to be the best places to....So was i being a hypocrite? or was i just considering my self superior..is it acceptable to do it..consider oneself superior..isn't every individual unique in their own way..ohh no there i start with the cliche bull crap as a friend of mine would say...you c its extremely to keep one's emotions out of a particular subject... Coz even when one does work it has to deal with passion coz you do something only which will hold us to it not because it was meant to be done...


set has the orange ball
in quietude the birds rest
calm is the ocean
and turbulent are my thoughts....

turbulent wisps of longing this may be
confusion may hover the soul
loneliness or presence is not the concern
content and dissatisfaction were after all omnipresent...



swats

It's really suprising when my head is bursting with ideas n yet the words fail to impress upon me the importance to put down these ideas. this is what exactly happening... some call it writer's block, others woiuld call it an excuse but what do i cal it??? never mind here i am attempting to break these barriers that have imprisioned me...

Forgotten Streaks

I crave for sanctity
for freedom and soul
I miss the moments
of lonely quietude
of mischievous wonders
at fruits forbidden

Achieved have i
those spellbound incantations
that would lead me to believe
that the path i walk upon
be fells none of the trauma
i have thought of

and yet i wonder
of those forks that
led me, hold me
and guide me
was it sanity i looked for?
was it calmness that answered
my quest for adventure

Have i forgotten my glory?
those moments of unspoken triumph
all through woods unexplored
those ephemeral motions that go by
widout notice and yet
those that yearn for mention through heady days
of stability, peace and mobility

I have lost what i have wanted
I have regained that which i didnt expect
the path which holds me is one i cant leave
and yet is this what those unspoken triumphs
were supposed to perish with?
have i forgotton those ribbons which led me
to forests unknown and the myths which became reality?

Do i want to let the path lead me?
Do i want to let the forks decide my future?
or must i choose the stray streak of light
that crosses this path and go into innate darkness
and yet to astounding glory be answerable
for i chose to choose the dark and not be led into beauty

Ach ohh Luthien i admire thy courage and beauty
I so hold that i may follw thee too.......

The funnier part of Life

Achievement through discipline is one of your keynotes in this lifetime. To fulfill your soul purpose you will need much patience, tenacity, endurance, and most likely a long period of apprenticeship or labor. You are equipped by nature to withstand the periods of self-denial, austerity, grueling study, repetitive practice, or "doing without" that your path in life requires. Serious about your aims and, above all, a realist, you are willing to pay your dues in order to get where you want to go, and whether your goal is spiritual attainment, development of a talent, or material success, you want to go to the top. Some degree of rigorous training or hardship (inner or outer) is apt to be a prerequisite to your eventual achievement, swati, and unlike apparently "luckier" souls, you have to work hard and pull your own weight early in life. Often, too, you have to wait, to delay gratification, and plan your strategies very carefully and shrewdly in order to gain your desired ends. Through this, you develop a certain toughness and firmness, emotional detachment, inner resourcefulness and self-determination, which keeps you going when the road gets a little rocky on the way to the pinnacle you are aiming for. One pitfall you need to beware of is your tendency to become hardened and cynical, secretly envious of those whose way is less orduous or whose outlook and attitude is more trusting and carefree (irresponsible and immature, to your way of thinking). You seem to be given more "tests", frustration, responsibilities, restrictions than others, and as a result, tend to view the world as an unfriendly place or life as a struggle. It is important for you not to become bitter because of this, or to try to take shortcuts, as these will almost certainly come back to haunt you later. The first half of your life, in particular, may seem heavy or hard, while the fruits of your steady efforts come to you later

The essence of this lifetime is that you must prove yourself, swati, and this you know at a deep level, and feel as a sort of inner pressure. (it can be next to impossible to get you to relax and enjoy yourself, to waste time or money or anything frivolous, or to gamble on anything you are not certain will yield real, tangible benefits). Because of your very strong (even if undefined) sense of purpose. Even your recreation is apt to be done in a calculated manner. You weigh the potential risks involved, and usually on the side of safety, for you have a very strong head to know where you are going and to be in control. Thus, the true experience of play tends to elude you, since it requires letting go of control, a certain indifference to results in preference for a free flowing openness to the moment. You do have a rather dry, ironic sense of humor, and it is important for you to keep that side of you alive as it gives you balance and a healthy perspective on things.

The modern world has often heard of the inferior status of women in society during the dark middle ages (as they were called). Female infanticide common then repulses us; the so-called modern generation with thoughts of upliftment occupying foremost place in our minds. And yet I question you... Is this attitude only escapist in nature? Because though we the women in city consider ourselves free form the yoke of oppression of female inequality do our sisters in the rural illiterate consider themselves as lucky and as free?

This is the question that that Jha’s film tries to answer for us. A world without women, without the female support a world full of animals and the behavior of animals after catching a glance of the forbidden fruit which they succeeded in destroying- this forms the essence of Jha’s movie. Any secquence for mthe movie is worth a watch—whether it is the first glance of Kalki, or her rape the first time or the birth of a child admist caste war. These spine chilling movies sort of exposes the truth that many have chosen to ignore or probably are afraid to admit.

However some scenes like kalki getting raped time and again while being tied to the pole at the cowshed which were probably meant to evoke repulsion succeed in going a step futher. They evoke numbness after the initial shock of brutality wears off. Having chosen an excellent subject after his last venture (A very very Silent Movie) and having a great storyline Jha’s direction somehow misleads us to espect something more than rapes and more rapes on the screen. However if the intent with which the movie was shot was to create an awareness in the society about the treatment meted out to womenfolk in villages and also to enthrall international audiences with the true horror of the quintessential Indian rural social stigma faced by these same women; the effect is well executed and above felt.

One cannot find words for the Kalki( tulip Joshi) for the experience that she has undergone while shooting the movie. If today her people refuse to speak to the movie maker one can bery well understand their feeling. However the intentions of the maker and the movie were supposed to be repulsive, forceful and glaring. They have very well succeeded in this.

One thus would find it difficult to believe a life without women. After this drama it would be nigh impossible to contemplate the prospect about life at all without those whom be consider to be inferior and meant to be trodden upon. Without a past or a future Matrubhoomi truly remains in our midst with Kalki in our minds.

She was the exhalted one,
the garlanded and the most sought after
she waded through the green with sensous ease
her gait sweeping through the greatest obstacle with unhurried graze.

And Yet today she was confronting
the worst of her foes,
the worst of her nightmares.
or that was what she had been made to think.

For the monsterity that confronted her
far beseiged her imagination
the terrors that should have confined her
were themselves confined by an expression far beyond thought.

And yet the animal greeted her an old aquantiance
the non-exsistent suprise at their approach
emphasized by an eually casual demeanour
her presence granting the occassion no special significance.

Oft had she wondered if this day would approach
and oft had the thought been scorned by the pride and haught of the world
and yet the situation granted her no special importance
as though she was always meant to be here

the Lustrous black swaying as though granted
the freedom by the wind, the fragile shoulders,
held stiff by naught but a sense of belonging and pride
the feet spread apart and the hands again held as though they were made for this rendevouz

nothing mattered then,
cause consequence action inaction
the end, the future, the beginning,
was all left in a deep haze behind

all that was left tnow was an exhiliration
of undiluated pleasure, sensous and ungainly
the grandeur of the situation refused to ket her think other wise
the moment was too important to be thrown in the puddle of thoughts that made memories.

And yet came this thought through the deep haze
of the enormity and its consequences,
that could just not be thrown aside too,
it had to interrupt and ruinthe moment

And yet stiffened her iron hard shoulders
she would think of it later in the era
going by, not now,
the past and the future would be gotten into later,
not now, certainly not now.....

I wake up from the ashes
reborn, awakended and refreshed
if experience was all dat counted
i wouldnt hv been here
Recounting and narrating

In some corner wuold i have been
Experiencing and enjoying more
and yet i wantedd to be reborn
for i had seen and felt
an expanse and not allegory
unencountered by me

THe soft alluring waves
spread like strand sof delicate
black hair swept aside
by lover's hand
the expanse had beckoned me and i had gone

I had gone without realizing
dat would i never b able to come back
i would be leaving behind dat which i treasured
dat which made me
dat which was i

the winds of change induced and allured me
to go inot dat night of wonder where none could know
the difference between nghtand day
and yet gone had i
to this ignorant place

Searching for somthing i couldnt find
found did i imany things
things of which no use had i
things which would never hold me to them
things which kept me tied down

content was i never
and neither was i happy
the luaghter bibbling like froth was a farce
the smile was an unhappy one
the music was an understaatment of what i felt and had known

And yet stuck I to this hauntingly erroneus world
for here i ahd found something of which i craved
but which was being offered to the wrong me
the real me was still dormant
still glorying in my wistfull dreams

the night grew darker
and the day flew with wogns st its heels
i still did not wake,
they strtd observing it about me
the they for whom i hadnt cared

i wondered about mychange
wandered about the exact notions of its beginning
and then he spoke
spoke with the mutest words that one would find
and yet brought my illusion crashing doen

he who i ahd never even thought of as one among mine
had spoken had called to my fallling self
had given a rope of hope to my falling grace
He who made me respond through the mutest yell
he was the one who saved me

and here began my redemption
to everthing that i had sacrificed to be a part of that horrifice illusion
everything that would never be the same again
and yet i have not reached the end yet
i have to stick to lean on or to walk by

nothign to guide me by
those endless puddles and swamps
i call i yell i plead i shout
and yet all i hear is silence a never ending one
i still wait....

I still wait in search of that solitude
that grace that reason for which
'i the queen had abandoned all my subjects
had left them thirsty for a master
and yet all i get is an unending darkness

THe journey is unending
and yet i seek not anymore
i wait for the moments of lightening
to awaken and shock me to realize somehting dat never was
just like i had been astinished by HIM

Swats

Misconceptions

They spoke enough for long and hard about all sorts of things the good the bad the super evil, I heard understood accepted blindly n followed. I believed in them till my mind started questioning asking pondering and contemplating. It asked questions as a living entity posing bouncers of its own shaking the supposed firm foundations of beliefs already deep rooted and the unquestioned.

I was then called a weirdo a non-believer and an athesist. I again agreed with all they said but this time i questioned the motive and the consequences. For this I was again called a materialistic person with selfish motives and with satan in me. I still persued in my quest of questioning. Il learnt to take the closed doors as well as the hard bumps. After all noone said the jouney would be a smooth one. And then i started questioning my own idealls and beliefs whether I was right or wrong? whether my virtues were truely worth preserving or not? I could not comprehend the idea of tasking the vast knowledge of logic against the barrier based on faith and moral principles. I could not find my answers.

And all this while they kept accusing me of breaking my faith of being put in penury and beyond hell for my misdeeds. I didn't care though. I wanted to satisfy my curiosity more than anything else. I tried to adher to my own said principles and values. But the entity againg questioned the basis of these value systems and thier origins. I found that i could not challenge them. They originated to long before time. I could face this upheavel task of changing them. All this time i was being branded as a hypocrite for strying away from the path i had been sworn not to stry and trying to be lead back there. THey held me via the noose and strectehed me too far.

And finally it happened.. THe rope had been stretched too far the string broke free. Iwas free. I had found freedom in from their antiquated values and thoughts. I could think now. My mind didn't search answers anymore. Infact I didn't need it anymore. I had achieved the power of accepting things. Sermons, values, ideals didn't hold me anymore. Even my ideals had changed, they were more realistic and approachable now. THough abstract my though line went i stilll didnt care. I had achieved nirvana, I had won the batle over myslef or i believed.....

But my thoughts still rankled with unanswered questions, They buzzed in my head searching unfindable answers. While the world continued to bombard me with names and titles though i cared less now. Yet among the "they" entered those who had known me and loved me. THey asked my to change back into something i hd long since surpassed to be. They termed my a hypocrite for letting og of my own morals. I wondered if they really had meant it or were they the real hypocrites who couldn't accpet me the way i could be...


I still am seeking the answers and wandering in search of it and yet the thirst has gone leaving me just another soul groping fo answers in the dark or probably light.


never mind i like it this way [:P]

Intangible THoughts

She looked at the knife gleaming in its silvery light, just like an elf in the mystic moonlight of the midsummernight. THe only thought that ran in her cranuel veratibrium was the supposed pain on body during death. death waiting to sheath its unclean unsavory claws into pure white skin aand lay to waste those hours of scrubbing and rearing. Spreading of blood on those snowlike hands from far from desirable to her even in deat, but certain tasks had to be fulfilled, certain duties had to be taken responsibility of.

The major question of how to fulfilkl dem buzzed in hewr head.. none of the conventional ways seemed very viable or "cool" enough to follow. THen sprang a thot in her temporal lobe, grey cells put on theeir thinking cap and the great rusted wheels whirred into motion This death had to be Spectacular it couldn't be like anything ever seen or heard in normal news.... even in the death there had to be immortality.....For only immortality would wipe of the stain and revive her into the eing of her choice, only that would give satisfaction to the inconcievable longing in her pitiless soul.... The could not be rectified and the future was not acceptable to her.

She sat still for quite some time Out the window the birds sang and boys whistled. Inside time stood still silence cut the air making noise and disturbing her. Yes the past could not be rectified and the future lay pale ahead only dath would solve the agony....THere could be no more spectular ways that could gurantee her the satisfaction of a perfect death. Nothing more fatal and the stainless steel glinting its edges and thus spoke her conscience angry and tormented at the world at large, or was it at her...It spoke as a seperate identity of its own reminding her of the fatal night... Then too the kife had been glinting albeit with chocolate dripping off its surface and yet it had not shone its true colours. TOday the vividity with which she saw it puzzled her, probably had observed it too-the vividity in its patterns and hedges on the edge... wait hadn't he felt it, the pain sorrow and helplessness.

And yet she had been a woodpecker hammering away to glory at the stubborn tree. THe agony of the tree unfelt and unmoved by it. But of the deeds committed and the actions done... What of it? asked her seperate entity... No deed was too powerful or grave as to be stabbed at, and no person was that important to be killed for. Snd yet it had been done, the THought greviously haunted her the gruesome sight of blood spilt like water and splashed over the wall like sum amatuer artists fisrt impression if the world, it still filled her to horrer and rage at the world for making her do it at him for being the cause and at herself for being the effect....

She awoke from her stupor (itwas never sleep since that day) by the buzzing of the door bell She had to do it now else it would be too late, They would know that she had done it, the evidence was against her everywhere and yet they could not find it till date, they had not even implicated her but her sould had died. THe fading laughter in his eyes had more than anything but killed her. Now she was a mere existence. Again she glanced at the silver sheathed weapon the fading sun casting its last rays on its silver designs.... Her life like them was carved by an unknown entity and yet not touched by it or graced by its presence.

THe moment had arrived, the madness in her head refused to subside refued to let her live she had to die Only its outcome wouldsatisfy thepain longing and heal it completely. Courage seemed to have deserted her anf strenght faded from her supple legs. She dragged the knife towards her and...... plunged it thriugh her forever imparing her stomach and liver. The cruel metal piecered her like a sword cutting a still night's air. THe blinding pain began subsided and re-began. Her own water played a game of hide and seek with her gorming shadows all over.

YES YES Probably this was the pain he had felt when she killed him HER BROTHER but she had suffered through much greater pain in those hours of agony bearing him having him and trying to hate him... Had she succeeded by the end to hate him for his actions for having her never walk outside the cage he had built for her?No she thought, she had not inspite of all said and done she still loved him still had wanted him to live still believed in him...... The drips of her blood now sounded fainter and there was the sun playing havoc on her senses becomming brighter and closer by every second.

THis is what death feels like to all those alive and waiting awaiting I tel you I know it coz I have been reborn and thats what makes it all worth while Life and nothing more just that......

." THe past is intangible in our thoughts and the future hazy in our eyes, Damn it still didnt change" came the dim thought in the impeding darkness..............

Swati D'souza

Got bored all day.....finally finished 1984 stil understanding d book........d true meaning evades me started wid Catch-22..pretty hilarious in d beginninng..lets c let me delve in a little more...hmmm got bored to write nething serious or for dat matter nething..... spoke to many ppl today....ws irriitated wid vidya v sort of fought..... sej cald up 4 protion den patched matters wid vidya... ann cald many times 4 history m damn bored b goin to vid's farm house moro.... i feel lethargic apathic abt everything dunno kno y.........