Indians, Please come out of the abyss of Kasab and his deeds and of course his sentence. I mean, there are just too many things in this world to be done than worrying whether Mr. Kasab is going to live or die. Just stop this whole disease from spreading. Leave Mr. Kasab alone. And like I am promising this to you, you can also promise this to your friends, families, Karkares, Kamtes, Unnikrishnans, neighbors, stray dogs and Leopold flies……..”Mr. Kasab is gonna be fine“. Just come out of it. Traffic still needs space to loco mote. You are just not being Indians if you are sticking to the same point today, which you got stuck on 26.11 attack eve. Indian liver, kidney, lungs, brains, muscles are trained (and in fact…. trained well 🙂 ) to understand and follow that  ” We move, some die, we move while crying, we stop crying, we move, some die again, we move while crying, we cry for some who died before too, we stop crying for those who died before, we stop crying for those who died later , WE MOVE”. So whats the point lingering to some event that occurred just because you own a television set and you pay Rs. 180, to your hawker. Focus on Holi ahead or …may be Diwali or the New Year Bash for 2012, but not Kasab.

The name has become important and even we can see more people furious nowadays, but does it make sense to burn tonnes of liters of Indian blood in agony, for a terrorist (oops……My bad…A Public Figure!!! 🙂 ) who of course is not dying before his natural death date. To remind you and somewhere myself too, I would like to tell you that taking a cumulative, Indian newspapers sale increased by 8.5%, for the date when the daily routine of Kasab in jail was published. I mean, WHAT? You want to know that what kind he eats or that what he Shits?!!! It’s OK if you gave him more importance but don’t let your babies know that……..They will try to buy more gun toys then Remote Controlled Cars or Helicopters. (You sure..you dont want to do that to Pakistan????!!!)

Count the numbers now. How many marriages we attended since 26.11, how many companies we came to know about since 26.11, how many days we spent worrying about our salaries and turnovers since 26.11, How many cars caught our eyes since 26.11, ….yes, you’ve hit a jackpot there. So why making sure that people around know that you think about 26.11. Is it really worth? Actually it’s not. As evolution of mankind has been successful because of  efficacious sub sectioning of humans and everything around. Similarly, system of governance multifariously came down to dictatorship, authoritarian, Democratic, secular, Bla and Bla. But to move ahead Democracy demands a subdivision.

Whole Democracy and Sub-Whole Democracy, is what we should call it in open, India then certainly falls in the sub category of Sub-Whole Democracy (S-Hole Democracy 🙂 ), which no longer needs S’s like me and you to simply cause the amendments. (You don’t trust me??? Ask an RTO officer to renew your driving licence  for LMV’s 🙂 )

Tomorrow’s gonna be fine

She would hold a hair pin, between her teeth to dress,
and I’d stare at her and breathe, and ‘d say “girls are really a mess”
She would watch me in the bed and for no reason would weep,
I’d control the rush in veins, trying to convince that I am asleep,
We would discuss nation, movies, the good and the bad,
and mutually hate love stories, especially when they are sad,
She would prefer dung on my face rather than cake in my mouth,
and would laugh heavily, and would unpleasantly shout,
She would tickle me while I am driving, and would pull my cheeks then,
and would wear a simple necklace, I think what’s more beautiful, her or gem,
She would come up with some ideas to break the boredom of the day,
And when I have nothing to speak, she’d find another “By the way”
She had many flaws which kept her, closer to the real,
and I told her that we fit well, coz I am far away from ideal,
She’d wear my company-ID to tell me, of me she is so proud,
But i would never like it, as my salary was not that loud,
She had her reasons to be away, as she was helpless to be close,
She asked my opinion, and her career was what I chose,
I bought her a new phone, and she got mine recharged,
There were chats on phone every day, but distances still enlarged,
I could not go for her birthday, but holidays here I enjoyed,
I shared these things with her, she smiled but never rejoiced,
She wanted a little more, than what I thought I could do,
Things never broke with noise, and gradually I became a who,
The day is not to drink more, the day is not to cry,
But I think I cant find a reason to ascertain “if-so-then-why?”
I heard she is also broken, but I am sure she would resurface,
I vaguely remember her voice, but am clear with her face,
All mutual friends have broken with me, which makes sure that I was wrong,

 But I know that she dont need them, as she also has been so strong,
I know she wishes well for me, as I do it for her,
But if it was not for some thing, then why at all this stir,
Now she might be thinking to get married, and I am of never,
I can fall in love again, but have lost that friend forever,
She will never ask me to wear blue, and to shave on time.
But one thing she tells me in my dreams, that tomorrow’s gonna be fine.

The Rush Hour DAD!!!

An extra mile on the trade mill would have taken a lot of things away from me today. And that includes my roommate’s life, though practically worthless, but still more than my job for me.

Since the time when Taj Mahal was being built, I have been wearing unironed shirts in my office. 🙂   That’s more of my slothy nature but I justify it saying “I dont give a damn what they think of me“. But today was a hell-raiser meeting at the office for which every one was notified by an invitation letter, but me. I was and am a very different than a usual trash at the office. 🙂  My invitation included the information about the delegates to be at the meeting and importance of the chief guest at the after-show lunch. The message was visibly very long one but the invisible but underscored bottomline was certain; “If you are coming ……..get your shirt IRONED“. 🙂

I gainsaid their version of challenge with a frozen tongue and left at 6.00 PM sharp from the office. The next station was Next. The later Next refers to the electronic store that has a great lot of home appliances. I purchased a Phillips Iron which had some large additional features which I dare not care. Intricacies are carelessly designed grid of myriad simple things 🙂

 I will buy it even if it can exhume Hitler and bring him to life, until unless it can crease my attire for the meeting. I was tensed about the task of ironing but was happy about getting a new game to play than playing documents and files. I woke up safely at 0700 hrs to serve the purpose on time. As we have only two free plug points for intermittent deeds like charging mobile or using a mixer grinder and my laptop is plugged to one of them in the kitchen, I am left with the one at the wall beside my roommates bed. I plugged it in there and went for some sweating down on my treadmill.

If Dad was here he would simply laugh at the scene of me ironing a shirt, i thought riding the treadmill. He would say “What goes around, comes around.” and I would never risk my life by retorting over that one. He once called me useless worthless man and that came when he heard about me leaving my former job. They wanted me to work parallel to my juniors and at the same work platform and even same salary. That was not what I was supposed to accept as somewhere my conscience smelt exploitation. But Dad never understood as he never wanted to know. My words were soothing when I told him that I got a new job. Good remained the time for a couple of days and then his burning remarks started to roast me again. And with this burning………….BURNING!!!! Shit man

Next was me standing beside my roommates semi roasted bed sheet. I swiched off the iron plug and came to understand that A very important feature was missing in the Phillips iron…..Auto Turn Off Heating Control. Now I have to go to office with a crushed shirt again. My roommate, who I guess, never sleeps lesser than yesterday and this progression has been continuing since he shifted with me, is snoring, yet, he will undersand what happened this morning, after seeing the archaeological remains of the Mickey Mouse print bed sheet. I was upset and went to open the door which was now knocked a couple of times. It’s my Dad’s courier which comprises of my bank passbook, a silver ring with a blue stone embeded within, a packet pretty soft, and a letter.

Dear Son, I visited our Guru a couple of days before and discussed with him the problem of your unstable career and gravity less thoiughts.  I know you, as usual, will never agree to wearing what you call “This Kinda STUFF“, but I wont die with my responsibilities unfilled. The bank account passbook contains the final entries of your debits and deposits. I wonder why you keep an account here.Yes and the packet contains a brand new LOUIE PHILIP shirt. That is of their rare edition. Thought I should buy you one as you only look good when I make the choice. I know less of your little wonderland but I would certainly love to see you soon. Enjoy life, Eat right.

By the way the ring is for the index finger of you right hand

Yours One and Only one

DAD…………….I Guess.

 These words in the letter made me realize what Dad is all about. And I am happy I was made to understand this with a simpler way than BAGHBAN screenplay. The shirt was stiffly ironed and the color was absolutely perfect for the meeting, sea green. I could not hold a trickling tear and was appreciated for my dressing sense at the office. My roommate shrilled some remarks over his Walt Disney’s headless Mickey, nut that didnt made the desired impact anyway.

Indians understand the implied meanings better than anything else, and I guess this was the reason why the term FATHER was Hindified with a rather strong and warm word……………..BAAP!!! 🙂

Burning Ashes

It doesn’t matter what you are capable of , you can’t burn ashes. Feather can go airborne over the edge of ascending smoke, but the dead bird will lie on the ground. What matters is the driving force. The force born out of hope. Hope is a cordial translation of will. I see you coming when you really go. And so happens as I feel that you heard me, and then yourself and a new will transcended into a new hope in you, and off you go. And one day I know you would come back in the sky as a better yourself and will glide over the clouds and the Sun will be obliged to shine upon your wings and they will call you the new ray. The forever falling will keep you away from fear of failing, and forever being hated  will bring you closer to loving others. The hope in you will radiate to the universe and the oceans will want you to fly past them. Fishes in the water will never hate you for your ability to fly but will together dive deeper in the sea to appreciate your journey. They will call you phoenix and will device stories of your goodness which the ocean will iterate till the end of time for the purpose of mending hearts of the coming generations. The sky will accede to the folklore and will tell the world that you are more than just a phoenix. You are the emblem of the world who vanguarded the  smile on the face of the Earth. You will not fall of the branch even when you were trown to learn how to fly. And your first flight will bring the first rain in the forest. All toads and all snakes and all trees will thank you to be born. The remaining egg shell will close back itself after absorbing the misery of the world and your mother will die at your birth for the reason that her purpose in the world will be over. And none of your brothers will survive as they will not be able to resist jealousy. Gods will take their hands back from Earthly responsibility and the world will keep turning by the force your heart flutter. Your breath will be their breeze and your arrival, their glory. They will never need you or even want you to be there, as needs and wants are the nexus between the new good world and the old bad world for which you died.

Four Years Down The Line

The stars are just gazing over the world cup fifa 2010, so as to make their presence felt across the world. This world cup has significantly reflected that, luck has a greater role to play in the game. There are supporters of even the weakest teams who are wandering cape town to Johannesburg, in search of victory for the home team and if the wish comes true, then to witness the history being created. They have a few trustworthy and tangible companions with them, some are visible …..others are not. Determined Faith, Prolonged Prayers, Plastic Vuvuzelas from madam Wu’s factory in China, And tickets to the amphitheater, where, only the unassailable beast will survive. Exception this is, to the ubiquitous Darwin quote “Survival of the fittest”, which here becomes “survival of the fittest plus praised plus wished plus supported”.

No one would have even dared to think, that Messy and Ronaldo, will be just among the many players, of just among the many teams, which are just racing for another world cup, and deny performing as per their super-natural asset, which, in simple English is called “The Talent”. But no one either can believe that the heroes of the past have lost glory in the present. And the future generation will get different vibes, then those that we get, when we hear the words like “Wayne Rooney”.

There is always a fortune factor working in the referee ruled kingdom, and there also, are a lot of panels and meetings and hodge-podges over this issue. The decision is sure not to be reached, prior to eternity, as, when clan-1 says “There is a great technical flaw in the game which is causing injustice, not only to players, but also to the nations……. ”, clan-2 says “The beauty of the sport lies in everything that it has been having, since it’s creation and onboard voyage up to where football stands today…. it would just be considered as Tampering with the Game” .

While the powerful few are fighting over the issue, let us reconsider that the cynosures are insignificant, over-expected ones are failing, and most certain ones are watching Wimbledon at their homes in their country as FIFA-10 is heading towards the final celebration. Underdogs are covering the laps much quicker, and are giving new heroes for the young-gen to come. Schnijder, Vera, Villa, Forlan, Gyan, to name a few, who have made a mosaic on the holy book of football history, and have become the names, which give a full throttle to the “never say die” instinct within. And now, as the new heroes are emerging somewhere out of the horizon, the erstwhile fans feel a threat to the fame that old ones deserve. But, as a single page that opens a new chapter also closes the old one, heroes who gained of fortune, will become forgotten icons, and who gained of flair and fight, will skip the flip.

These facts have always been as they are today, but they are put under the microscopic observation as it is a fierce battle between the nations, to hold the golden trophy and an incomparable title for four years, till the neutrality, washes the fame in world cup 2014 in Brazil. The call at 2014 will be “Defending Champions”, but that fact gives a sudden discomfort, as the two finalists of world cup 2006 (Italy and France), were not even able to qualify for the quarters of W/C 2010. Italy’s spectre state in this W/C, is a nightmare that will not let the coach and manager of the victors, sleep for another four year span. But that has nothing to consort with giving the best in this world cup. As long as the teams are still battling W/C 2010,………… having that nightmare, would still be a dream come true.

And now, when the Google’s satellite images, might just have started showing unusual thermal images of the African south zone due to the heat of the tourney, the pressure is building for the approaching finale. The more the prayers are done, more are the expectations raised. These are the people who are inadvertently engaged with their purest will, for the glory of the team, the game, and the nation, and retain no bias for self-benefit. No religion can match the sanctity of the character that is embedded somewhere deep inside everyone as a true supporter. He is genuine in all feelings and all gestures that he posses, and have no reason for doing and believing so, but to contend his support for his set of eighteen (eleven main players, five benched players, a coach and a manager). There are no Gitas, Bibles, Qurans or Popes to be heard or read. The only thing that is heard…..is the inner-self.

The Judgment Day is near and pinned at 11^th July, which will close (and of course start) another chapter. Hundreds will be lessons learned, and thousands will add to the new courseware. The tears of various reasons and regions will empty the hearts, which have waited for this month for four years. And for no reason (or may be the most crucial one), they have lived last thirty days feeling that it’s really good to be alive. July 11^th will leave behind a dream (and a million) that came true and thirty one (and a tons of millions)….. Obliterated. And then, some individuals of the creed, will weep back home and some will dissolve in the revelry. Common in both sides of schism will be……..Faith and Hope in Brazil 2014.

AJAR

“Bye Mom”

“Bye Darling”

I am alone at home and I came to know once again what freedom is all about. Dad’s room upstairs, that was tidy at nine when mom left,  is now a perfect mess, and the window panes are trying to beat the decibels of “Children of Bodom” as I like them “six-lane” loud. …….Whatever I am not present upstairs, in that wooden box of Dad. People at the street, stare at the aching window of the room above, while I relish their scornful and loathing formulations from the key-hole of the front door.

“What an unhinged, sick fellow” they’d be thinking. I hate them thinking this, as I know some people might be having accusations, with my Dad’s picture in mind, but I crush that guilt feeling easily, as I know that most of them know that it’s not Dad, but me, as this is fifth Saturday in a row when Dad’s out, and mom is called for some special meeting. And I don’t give  a damn if it’s not Dad and Mom, under the microscope,  but me.

That’s what a holiday always has for me, only if, I am alone. I make things better for me, when the brand new TV with Shopkeeper-Promised-Deafening-Full-Volume elysian asset, hits the race when an Infra-Red  bullet vigorously emanates out of the remote control, unimportant to say…….VH1 is the choice for the traffic filled sunny street of Gangtok.

“There must be some kind’a way out’a here, said the…… ” performed the “Hendrix almighty”, and now is when, the people on the streets are really frustrated. It’s good for me, as only me in all world is able to listen to the deities, loud and CLEAR, because as I listened this ..the other one gets audibly suppressed, and vice versa also holds well. But same is not the case with the Saturday-spoilers on the street, as they get a heavy heterogeneous dosage of jumbled classic and modern heavy metal.

Now, as I am 16, and well past the ingress of teenage, and am preparing to make myself well prepared for the adulthood, which might appear anytime, the would-be adult in me should sprout out the cyst and hence, it’s a Dad’s beer that matches both ends….the paradise dirt of heavy metal and yes, of course my adulthood, vanguards of which are raising themselves at my underarms……..my glory….my heroism. I wonder if I could show them to my would-be Queen…..after all she will know me as a husband who is celebrated across a ten-lane colony. I let-go myself into the trance of metal and beer, where “The Mel Gibson” in me fights the English army with just a hand full of soldiers.

I gathered consciousness by a mutual cease of both, my TV and the Music player upstairs. “Parallel cessation” woke me up. I ran upstairs to feed some bass to the woofer with some Clint Mansell and switched to MTV on the TV downstairs. Some more beer during the hallway-lurching, and I wondered, what vague things have for supper for the consciousness. I enjoy freedom when I am closed inside a locked home, and I get perturbed by silence rather then blare………that’s something weird, but it’s OK if it has to do something with being adult. “World is absurd, only MOTORHEAD makes sense”.

As they detest all my freedom, which I know by the resenting glances that I receive from them Sunday to Friday, it’s now time for them to siege my fort, and claim attacks, and before my mind could put the last notion into executable script………there goes the Bugle…..the DoorBell.

Retrospection propels me to open the door, as somewhere in the past I learned a moral “Love thy neighbor”, and for that, I want to re-live my life, with getting educated in some other school or none at all. It rings again, and the murmurs beyond the rampart, become more significant. I am now opening the door. The last sound of peace, was the “clutch” sound of the door knob, as what happened then after is easily comprehensible. After all the excoriation, and industrially fabricated D –ve level remarks, I was asked not to repeat it, which I usually agree, and did the same then. This time the torture to the soldier was less severe, then the last Saturday, as that time, I opened the door still in trance and with beer in my hand. Generally, I forget what these anti-freedom silently-planning “Laden”-ic figures of my life, from the nearby vicinity say, but I hated it when, a toothless crooked woman, of grave-appropriate age said “Either you are a demon or you live with a ghost in there.”.

Now, I think is the time for some pork and Russian salad from the refrigerator, with some international NEWS on TV, as adults do, but I will change it to, some pork and Russian salad from the refrigerator, with some good music on VH1.

As on every Saturday, I appreciate the appetizing property of beer, and ask God to postpone Dad’s return to Monday, and Mom’s, to late night. I filled the holy container within, up to the brim.

A drunk nap enhances one’s beauty, and pulls the adulthood some where more closer!,,….you should know this as you just witnessed a strikingly new fact unleash. There are two soft double beds in home, but I’d prefer sleeping on the sofa in the hall as most of the Hollywood stars prefer that place while showing respect to the sanctity of the woman, who is troubled by the heavy rain and a tyre-punctured car, and is hunting for salvation.

Six hours I’d been sleeping, as I woke up by a phone call by Dad from Delhi, saying that he’ll catch me up from the Monday school, as he is not able to return due to some work, that is pending for a working hour of the next working day. I went to wash my face in the bathroom, and inadvertently saw it in the mirror. The skin was brighter and softer then ever before!!!! I felt a sudden rush of something in my veins, as though subconsciously, I felt that my thoughts are coming true!! First Dad, delayed his program and then this glossy epidermis of face…..and wha…what’s this now?!! The kitchen door is opened to the backyard and I didn’t notice. In fact I still remember, that Mom closed it before leaving and I didn’t dare open it, as it’s a messy forest that starts form the edge of the backyard. I closed the door, thinking that I could never thought of this, and if it is that all my thoughts are turning out to be true, then this is least supposed to happen. I sat on the floor, near Dad’s music player, searching for some soul calming music.

“Joe Satriani…God himself, the dark side of the moon- PF……nice, but not now…….Hendrix….I already heard that today….wait….what the heck…” I realized that I started my music voyage with Hendrix song which says “there must be some kind’a way outt’a here….”. “NO MAN!!!  Kitchen door……Way outt’a here!! This ain’t happening, it’s not this way world goes… ”  it’s not my thoughts that are coming true, but everything said and wished during the day is!!!!!…….what if the old woman’s words would come

true, that either I am a demon (a little relief, as I am surely not)…….but what the fuck…….or I am living with a ghost…….Shit!!!Shit!!Shit!!!

The agitation became much worse. I tried to convince myself, that I am just mixing cases and circumstances, but still feel that there is no earth beneath my feet. Everything was haunting me, and I was panicking, as I couldn’t think of everything said and thought the whole day. Just to make me feel what a heart attack would feel like ……The telephone rang!!!!! I mustered all the courage left in me and went near to pick it up.

“Hello”

“Hi baby, I am sorry, I’ll be late. They postponed the meeting that was supposed to happen this afternoon, and just now, I received a mail that a client delegate has arrived to take it, and he’s gonna do that just an hour later. I’m feeling as in I am trapped in this job-bog, and am thinking that I should quit it so that I could get some more time with you and Dad. Anyways, as you must be feeling better by this news, I want you, to microwave the pork in the refrigerator, grab some Russian salad and eat it while watching your favorite TV channel.”

By this time I told her several times that I am terrified and want her home right now, but for sure the connection was single way….she couldn’t hear me, but I got her clear.

“and yes….dont forget to change your night suit, and throw the yester ones in the washing machine………hello baby are you there…..I cant listen you clear…hello…..stop worrying me baby……hello……what is it….is your voice breaking for unhealthy connection…or what…….SAY SOMETHING YOU IDIOT I AM WORRIED, HAVE YOU SEEN A GHOST OR WHAT!!!!!!”

“mom”

“yes baby….that’s better..”

“mom….there’s something in the closet……………”

“no mom…it’s not something……its someone!!!!!!”

PIN DROP VIOLENCE…..

557 m/s 200 ft..

..vertically above, Not supposed to hit a star or shatter cloud forms. Hate that finger that pulled the shit for no

reason…… or was there one????? They said in chorus that they like he “POW”!!! I last heard the tunnel cry in pain

and heat. Irony.>.>.>.> They call themselves human.

I am 234 feet but winds couldn’t cool it. Not their mistake,….these bastards know all of metal and amalgams.

Irony .>.>.>.>. They think they are GOD.

Human is “WhatWhereWHyWhenHow”……..GOD is  ‘endurance’….. try me. GOD is yellow, Human is burnt purple in                                      yellow coffin……….sleepless!!!!

432 m/s 310 ft

Now that I’ve gotta know, why I’ve got an absurd peeking nose, I’m stunned at the perfection…..are you guy’s really GOD…..have I

cursed the almighty…..Sorry Lord if I did……WAIT!!!!…NO……NO…you ain’t,.,.,.

They can’t be GOD ..Oh GOD…..they made me this way to suit their purpose ……GOD made nothing in them to suit his…BUT THEIR OWN…thats what is him….gottcha….you ain’t GOD…tell the neighbours…they ain’t GOD, They……tamers…yeah….wannabe Tamers…..Right!!!!!!

There is one thing I am loving up here…..sky full of stars is above and below me, and the Earth abandons me, close to horizon……Good it is to sometimes get FIRED. Freedom../..Independence …Always a close call!!!!!

How would they feel, if GOD engraved his name on their butts like I’ve got my maker’s on mine!?!?!?! Irony >.>.>.>.The one who’d

make the anti-scar would be culpable transgressor for some heavily dressed people with golden stick who live in some place called “Betican” and blessed coiner for scientists………..NEWS for rest of all and be Martyrs for all in due course….

…..Brain has neurons….Really?!!! Irony >.>.>.” Fill the syrup in the sachet and tablets in the bottles up to the brim”….

The human way. Dont tell me you don’t concede..I’ve been barrels and holsters. They prefer

visiting psychiatrists over doctors or ORS, for a dyspeptic lose motion…………..Adolf did a good job.

317 m/s  360 ft

Cold it’s now getting ….a relief to my burning butt. I think I’m losing momentum…….Gravity Calling.

Earth……a big thing isn’t it???!!

Their’s is not a good life …..so isn’t our’s!!! My 20,000 family members died at some cold place called  “carkill”…”garkill” ….something and everyone disowned the dead…..as always. Some returned and told We were everywhere and………………. Nowhere. Irony>.>.>.. We are always found in land and bodies of Our master’s adversary.

I know we are better as WE….who are to kill…..dont call the dead one’s …..THE MARTYR Apologies for solecism, if you are one of them but swallow it for it is the truth…..at least Give it a shoot…..it ll become a habit later.

Greedy them, when we are less, they say they love the “POW POW”!! and say nothing when we are abundantly airborne at places in world which are acronym’d LOC…….. must be “Lying Over Cemetery“.

I heard someone say that people who live near the sea eventually stop hearing the waves……you take it…I never saw waves …..I saw barrages!!!

205 m/s 380 ft

I think it’s time to lose and extinguish ………formerly I was skeptical  that I might hit a craft, a parachute, or flesh but no…….what a beautiful and apt waste ….no blood, no fire, no enemy down, ……NO MARTYRS.

They should either learn from me or manufacture the next lot with tongue and teeth……They have a very systematic way of transcending the axioms through generations and a neat methodology to veil the assumptions which keep resting under a corner closet of some dilapidated museums. Spark up your own nitrate for those who have written history are the ones who have hung heroes…….

……..”Heroes” never survive for such trivial issues…..

…………………………….Poooooooooofffffffffffffffffff!!!!!!!!!!

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You must have seen Mr. Musharraf firing a pistol over vertically with smoke between the lips, dressed in elegant Pakistani military attire, …..What was the first word in the mind of person watching the snap……..got right????

Yeah it’s bossy or might be dictator……Dont worry if you got any other pebble…….you still are right….They are all from the same Lot…… but that’s Human. Ask a bullet what it feels like being called as element of destruction, when has apathy for anything and everything…..SAVE WAR.

You must have seen Mr. Musharraf firing a pistol over vertically with smoke between the lips, dressed in elegant Pakistani military attire, …..What was the first word in the mind of person watching the snap……..got right????Yeah it’s bossy or might be dictator……Dont worry if you got any other pebble…….you still are right….They are all from the same Lot…… but that’s Human. Ask a bullet what it feels like being called as element of destruction, when has apathy for anything and everything…..SAVE WAR.

The Con Connoissuer

Have you ever met a “good for nothing” individual, whom you have felt of idealizing even after reckoning his insubstantial identity? A person with multiple laudable assets, of which none can be worshipped as icon of heroism, whose entity in social circle would be just of a ” Jack of all Trades”, but you felt that this “Jack” is closer to excellence, comparable to a Master?

  

This group of unpaired individuals are the real sufferers of obsession, immersion, and of course ………Lack of concentration. These great observers have a variable perception capabilities which they themselves can control. They can even be found to be able to perceive the idea behind a piece of music, painting, sci-fi excerpt, like the genre specific maestro would do. They are not only fenced to the above traits but have wide arms opened to Sports, Literature, Human Behaviour, Computers, and others……you name…….I’d Bet! 

I suppose they are the best critics of anything that exists. Their free-flowing notions have never been allowed to be anchored, by them, which liquidate their destiny as well. The good part is that their thoughts are compatible with everyone, but the bad part……..no one’s are compatible with their’s. Others are seen as sources of information and this they seldom like of themselves. The thirst never quenches as the elixir needed is undiscovered. The fan club never exceeds to the people who are personally unknown and the one’s known discuss them well inside the circumference, where people comply with a “no doubt ” complement. The problem is not they expose their acceptance to everything that comes their way, but that they find all of them equally interesting, and involvable. 

A lots of Everests touched ……none secured. 

One might wonder (like themselves) what would “Moksha” mean to these “in-search” organisms.Let’s just say, based on their researches and acumen of music you hire one for the position of a Studio sound analyst. It is highly probable that tomorrow you find him working on a software development language or worse……..reading movie reviews with a zeal of a pro.Their’s is a bad trap for themselves and a career counsellor, if hired, would drench out of blood, trying to convince them of their destiny. 

Actually, there is a nothing eerie about their individualism or personality.They are just the ambassadors of a potent, clumsy youth of the future. In a further crowded world of tomorrow the happenings in an individual’s life will have no possible presage or governance. Today we have open opportunities and hazy possibilities for exploration, but tomorrow would have a further complicated recipe with blurred opportunities and evanescent possibilities. One will direct his thought after trying things out. The birth-pre grad-grad-job-death chain would be upset owing to the contemporaries. 

And as they say, there are multiple doors those open when there is a trap-door that closes. The future world would be a pool of traps and thus an ocean of unrevealed possibilities to be explored. This would give birth to a better (might be a further complicated) common man, who will comfortably walk on a narrower boulevard.And the ” ” jinxed with confusion ” entities, discussed formerly would only flourish and excel.And if this is supposed to happen, I would like to leave this unconcluded …………………for time to fill the space: 

　 

　 

　 

Cheers to the blur …………………………..and of course “the sufferer”