the treasure lay stored,
in a concealed door;
to be unleashed ,
to refurbish the jaded beast.
rolled in it's pyre ,
it simmers and ignite ,
with each breath that sighs,
it soothes and lifts;
the consciousness that lay wry.
the world recdes away,
makes us wonder what the fuss was all about,
but a doubt remain, that what lay silent ,
will rise again' strike again.
we kill the thought ,
with the spear of thought ,
that when the reality pry,
we will again light the fire that turned dry.
June 16, 2008
June 10, 2008
ENCOUNTERS OF THE EMBARRASSING KIND
ENCOUNTERS OF THE EMBARRASSING KIND
Puberty: Age eleven. Sweet release: age twenty four. Well, it was not so sweet. First of all, the genesis of the entire thing was a result of ribaldry and cheap liquor. My more experienced friends- condescending and cajoling at the same time – convinced me of the virtues of paid fornication. I, inebriated and utterly horny, decided to cave in (in more ways than one). Boastingly, an eager pimp was called up and the rendezvous arranged at a seedy hotel.
The room was booked for two hours which in retrospect turned out to be a cruel joke. I was the first occupant and waited in the room all by myself with my libido and anxiety bubbling. She sauntered in royally late like a pro. She was dressed like a pro: skinny jeans, halter top on which the logo ran between mountains and valley; her make-up was bright with pink on the cheeks and red on the lips. Her smell or precisely the smell of the expensive perfume she doused on herself engulfed the room. She peremptorily asked my name and I barely mumbled. She on second thought asked for a condom. I said I have a packet. She chuckled and I seethed.
We started our communion by me disrobing her: I clumsily attacked her jeans and almost chaffed her in the process; I took her top on next; then her lingerie. Then I turned to myself. We were naked and I was clueless. She swooped in and drew me towards her, all the while saying sweet nothing. I-drawing on my five years of porn watching- tried to stroke her body and suck her oversize breasts. I tried to give her head and slurped too much. She tried fellatio but I ejaculated quickly. I entered her missionary, my eyes escaping her gaze. My flabby hips rocked nervously and she passively endured. Montage of images and thoughts played in my mind through out: of cops raiding, of contacting STD, of running in to her. After five minutes of laboring, I came. Our sweet laden body lay still. I did not event try hugging her post colitis and she smoked. She waited exactly ten minutes before asking me to cough up which I did eagerly. She left and I instinctively switched on the television, my eyes unable to concentrate, the images a flicker. I unenthusiastically put my clothes and ignored the mirror. The phone rang and on the other hand was the excited voice of my friend who wanted the details. I launched in to the soliloquy of my virility, amply assisted by my imagination. Finally I was a ‘man’, but I didn’t feel like one.
Puberty: Age eleven. Sweet release: age twenty four. Well, it was not so sweet. First of all, the genesis of the entire thing was a result of ribaldry and cheap liquor. My more experienced friends- condescending and cajoling at the same time – convinced me of the virtues of paid fornication. I, inebriated and utterly horny, decided to cave in (in more ways than one). Boastingly, an eager pimp was called up and the rendezvous arranged at a seedy hotel.
The room was booked for two hours which in retrospect turned out to be a cruel joke. I was the first occupant and waited in the room all by myself with my libido and anxiety bubbling. She sauntered in royally late like a pro. She was dressed like a pro: skinny jeans, halter top on which the logo ran between mountains and valley; her make-up was bright with pink on the cheeks and red on the lips. Her smell or precisely the smell of the expensive perfume she doused on herself engulfed the room. She peremptorily asked my name and I barely mumbled. She on second thought asked for a condom. I said I have a packet. She chuckled and I seethed.
We started our communion by me disrobing her: I clumsily attacked her jeans and almost chaffed her in the process; I took her top on next; then her lingerie. Then I turned to myself. We were naked and I was clueless. She swooped in and drew me towards her, all the while saying sweet nothing. I-drawing on my five years of porn watching- tried to stroke her body and suck her oversize breasts. I tried to give her head and slurped too much. She tried fellatio but I ejaculated quickly. I entered her missionary, my eyes escaping her gaze. My flabby hips rocked nervously and she passively endured. Montage of images and thoughts played in my mind through out: of cops raiding, of contacting STD, of running in to her. After five minutes of laboring, I came. Our sweet laden body lay still. I did not event try hugging her post colitis and she smoked. She waited exactly ten minutes before asking me to cough up which I did eagerly. She left and I instinctively switched on the television, my eyes unable to concentrate, the images a flicker. I unenthusiastically put my clothes and ignored the mirror. The phone rang and on the other hand was the excited voice of my friend who wanted the details. I launched in to the soliloquy of my virility, amply assisted by my imagination. Finally I was a ‘man’, but I didn’t feel like one.
tobermory
TOBERMORY
“Lady Blemley invites you to her Saturday soiree. You are promised an evening of fun, froth and general entertainment …………..” so began the invitation for the party at lady Blemley’s house. It was etched in gold leaf, embossed on fawn-coloured cartridge paper and accompanied by florid bordering. It was an interesting and unaesthetic piece which landed in the letter boxes of the residents of Dorchester street with unfailing precision every second week. The recipients in the spirit of the entire exercise, landed unflinchingly at lady Blemley’s mansion inspite of the presence of Mr. Appin, who since last year had become a permanent fixture in her parties as well her house.
Mr.Appin embedded himself in the house and social life of Lady Belmley by promising to enchant the regular visitors to her parties with magical sleight of hand that he ostensibly had acquired from his extensive travels in India. Since then the potent potion that was Red Bordeaux- which was copiously served at lady Blemley’s parties and was easily accessible otherwise-had rendered his skills ineffective. Now he had become many fixtures that adorn Mr. Blemley’s house. He was displayed in the cluttered parlour during parties in which he entertained the guests with anecdotes upon anecdotes of incidents that never happened in places that he never visited. Between them he was bundled up in to the least furnished bedroom of the house.
The latest party was like every other that preceded it. The constant pleasant din mainly consisted of either idle palaver over fish fingers or the swooning of the ladies over the latest acquisitions of lady Blemley’s: a red ruby necklace, Burmese teak furniture, a tiger skin rug which was the result of her malaria affected India trip in which Mr. Appin was also found. Presently it was the diamond ring which has come from South Africa that was holding the swirl of women around lady Blemley. This predictable state of affairs was changed when Mr.Appin suddenly announced: “I have made Tobermory talk. Through the blessings of goddess kali and chanting of hymns which were uttered at the right alignment of stars and moon which I was waiting for the past one year. Now Tobermoy can speak.”
The crowd thinned around the hostess and began congregating around the cat. Tobemory’s presence before was almost unnoticed and she was indifferent to it. Her fey deportment made her privy to most juicy house secrets and she began to recount them in her now shrill voice and impeccable English: Lady Blemley and Jeeves, her man-friday, clandestinely sneaks in to Lady Blemley’s bed-room where they attack each other before the door has struck the latch and with great alacrity disrobe each other and indulge in carnal pleasures.”
This sudden and shocking revelation created a commotion amongst the guests and left lady Blemley to feebly denounce the whole incident as the fecund imagination of a pampered feline .Jeeves, who was hitherto serving male guests with red-bordeaux and lady guests with his disarming smile, froze in the middle. The ladies at the party were green with envy but wore an expression of smug self-righteousness on their face.
The scandal seethed for a week. It cooled down the next week, and was completely forgotten by the end of the month. The only casualties of the entire affair were Mr.Appin, who was discarded by lady Bemley and who had to rely on his magic abilities to eke out a living; Tobermoy, which was donated to a traveling circus of which she became a star attraction and the party which took a hiatus of a month and resumed with the same invitation (dates changed) in the letter boxes of Dorchester’s residents.
“Lady Blemley invites you to her Saturday soiree. You are promised an evening of fun, froth and general entertainment …………..” so began the invitation for the party at lady Blemley’s house. It was etched in gold leaf, embossed on fawn-coloured cartridge paper and accompanied by florid bordering. It was an interesting and unaesthetic piece which landed in the letter boxes of the residents of Dorchester street with unfailing precision every second week. The recipients in the spirit of the entire exercise, landed unflinchingly at lady Blemley’s mansion inspite of the presence of Mr. Appin, who since last year had become a permanent fixture in her parties as well her house.
Mr.Appin embedded himself in the house and social life of Lady Belmley by promising to enchant the regular visitors to her parties with magical sleight of hand that he ostensibly had acquired from his extensive travels in India. Since then the potent potion that was Red Bordeaux- which was copiously served at lady Blemley’s parties and was easily accessible otherwise-had rendered his skills ineffective. Now he had become many fixtures that adorn Mr. Blemley’s house. He was displayed in the cluttered parlour during parties in which he entertained the guests with anecdotes upon anecdotes of incidents that never happened in places that he never visited. Between them he was bundled up in to the least furnished bedroom of the house.
The latest party was like every other that preceded it. The constant pleasant din mainly consisted of either idle palaver over fish fingers or the swooning of the ladies over the latest acquisitions of lady Blemley’s: a red ruby necklace, Burmese teak furniture, a tiger skin rug which was the result of her malaria affected India trip in which Mr. Appin was also found. Presently it was the diamond ring which has come from South Africa that was holding the swirl of women around lady Blemley. This predictable state of affairs was changed when Mr.Appin suddenly announced: “I have made Tobermory talk. Through the blessings of goddess kali and chanting of hymns which were uttered at the right alignment of stars and moon which I was waiting for the past one year. Now Tobermoy can speak.”
The crowd thinned around the hostess and began congregating around the cat. Tobemory’s presence before was almost unnoticed and she was indifferent to it. Her fey deportment made her privy to most juicy house secrets and she began to recount them in her now shrill voice and impeccable English: Lady Blemley and Jeeves, her man-friday, clandestinely sneaks in to Lady Blemley’s bed-room where they attack each other before the door has struck the latch and with great alacrity disrobe each other and indulge in carnal pleasures.”
This sudden and shocking revelation created a commotion amongst the guests and left lady Blemley to feebly denounce the whole incident as the fecund imagination of a pampered feline .Jeeves, who was hitherto serving male guests with red-bordeaux and lady guests with his disarming smile, froze in the middle. The ladies at the party were green with envy but wore an expression of smug self-righteousness on their face.
The scandal seethed for a week. It cooled down the next week, and was completely forgotten by the end of the month. The only casualties of the entire affair were Mr.Appin, who was discarded by lady Bemley and who had to rely on his magic abilities to eke out a living; Tobermoy, which was donated to a traveling circus of which she became a star attraction and the party which took a hiatus of a month and resumed with the same invitation (dates changed) in the letter boxes of Dorchester’s residents.
May 26, 2008
it's all relative
news papers can be a great source of really weired trivia, and if u read them long and hard enough they might be your fountainhead of wisdom (which you will callously disregard by the time you have your next meal).one of the most interesting columns to appear in indian newsreel is the daily spiritual discourse that appear on the bottom left of the editorial page of economic times:cosmic uplink. due to my limited knowledge of economics or may be because the poor man's science is so god damn boring, it is the only thing that i read in the entire paper.The cool thing about the piece is that it is most of the time not exhorting you about do's and dont's in life to attain a spiritually heightened sense of being which i'm sure can be attained equally by gulping kingfisher(or royal challenge since vijay mallya need as much free publicity he can get considering the fate that has befallen on his ipl team).what it does is give you insights about humanities actions and patterns and illuminate the fallibility of our race, at the same time -and without being to didactic-provide you with enough fodder for you to make your own judgement.mukul sharma-puzzle guru,a pseudo expert of all thing scientific(it means he was actually paying attention in all the classe of his engineering degree when people of his batch were out scoring chicks , dope or hooch), an inveterate believer of god and vithal nandakarni are regular rabble rousers of the piece.
one of the most interesting and original thought i came across in the column is a discussion on the book : predicting irrationality[sic].leaving aside the central theme of the book, i was fascinated by the observation that all our dreams and aspirations are inspired or atleast tempered by people around us. we have choosen a certain career path because we have seen somebody doing it and that evoked a certain kind of awe or desire in us. this principle can also be applied to all our pathos and sorrow: we are miserable because people around us have things which we dont have .think about it and you will be amazed by the simplicity and brilliance of this observation.
so all you out there who want something to chew over which doesnot involve words or numbers in a grid, do read it. it might not change your life but will atleast make you ponder, at least till the next meal.
one of the most interesting and original thought i came across in the column is a discussion on the book : predicting irrationality[sic].leaving aside the central theme of the book, i was fascinated by the observation that all our dreams and aspirations are inspired or atleast tempered by people around us. we have choosen a certain career path because we have seen somebody doing it and that evoked a certain kind of awe or desire in us. this principle can also be applied to all our pathos and sorrow: we are miserable because people around us have things which we dont have .think about it and you will be amazed by the simplicity and brilliance of this observation.
so all you out there who want something to chew over which doesnot involve words or numbers in a grid, do read it. it might not change your life but will atleast make you ponder, at least till the next meal.
April 14, 2008
ode to verse
how these words awake,
from deep inside,
to lay spread ,
our hope, rage , love , hate.........
how something inside conjures,
these beautiful verse.
which soothe and uplift,
comfort and embrace
the worst and best of us.
how through words we are
made aware, of the heart that aches
in diverse beings;
of the dreams that simmer in us;
of the hope that grows inside.
but sometimes words fail,
to embrace the pain that rages;
we grow numb, we sink , we fall,
we survive;
we live out of habit,
scarred and bruised.
suddenly hope finds it's way,
igniting the embers turned cold.
now again words paint
the canvas of remembrance ,
with the memory that remains.
we seek to transform it
into something more.
we might succeed,
we might fail.
but we owe ourselves
a tale.
from deep inside,
to lay spread ,
our hope, rage , love , hate.........
how something inside conjures,
these beautiful verse.
which soothe and uplift,
comfort and embrace
the worst and best of us.
how through words we are
made aware, of the heart that aches
in diverse beings;
of the dreams that simmer in us;
of the hope that grows inside.
but sometimes words fail,
to embrace the pain that rages;
we grow numb, we sink , we fall,
we survive;
we live out of habit,
scarred and bruised.
suddenly hope finds it's way,
igniting the embers turned cold.
now again words paint
the canvas of remembrance ,
with the memory that remains.
we seek to transform it
into something more.
we might succeed,
we might fail.
but we owe ourselves
a tale.
April 1, 2008
PRAYER FOR DESPERATE HEARTS
Menacing pall of despair,
Captivates my being.
Is my spirit capable of soaring?
Past the dark clouds to seek light,
Does light even exist.
This cruel existence reminds,
Constantly to this imagination,
The futility of its flight.
The ruins of past, comes alive now;
Hope my only escape.
I search for belief,
I crave for alchemy to transform me.
My soul seeks unshackling,
O lord give me a talisman to escape-
This neutered and gory realm I call life.
Captivates my being.
Is my spirit capable of soaring?
Past the dark clouds to seek light,
Does light even exist.
This cruel existence reminds,
Constantly to this imagination,
The futility of its flight.
The ruins of past, comes alive now;
Hope my only escape.
I search for belief,
I crave for alchemy to transform me.
My soul seeks unshackling,
O lord give me a talisman to escape-
This neutered and gory realm I call life.
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