Tears of Blood

1947. She was independent, strong, confident and made a difference. A difference the whole world marvelled at. She showed herself to be powerful yet a strong humanitarian. She followed rules that had peace at its very foundation and humanity built up on it. The people who freed her were proud of her. They walked with their heads held high. Then were born the sons. She cared for them and nurtured them well and wanted them to take up the mantle- to rule their brothers.

The sons then grew up and kicked their own mother's womb and cursed her so she gave birth to more and more sons endlessly. Those that were deformed in the brain, insane would grow up so even the deepest and darkest depths of hell would spit them out. Then She was put to sleep by her own sons and cursed to breed cruelty, insanity and wilderness throughout. Her womb became cold and filled with filth. Then came men of lust from other parts of the world who raped her while she cried out loud to her sons to save her while the sons stood beside counting their daily earnings and while their brothers of innocence stood helpless without a voice.

India stands naked infront of her own sons and their betrayal. Unable to protect herself. People appointed to guard the law are beating each other up with the aggression of a mad, raging bull with no regard to what they are guarding. People appointed to rule the country are busy swindling, laughing at its own fate while people of innocence are out there with their blood smeared all over turning the country red. Now she lays helpless and cursed to sleep and never to wake up again crying the tears of blood that flows like a crimson river while her sons still dream of the riches they can salvage and profiteer amidst the crisis with just a casual nod as a sign of sympathy.

" Sometimes I wonder... will God ever forgive us for what we've done to each other? Then I look around and I realize... God left this place a long time ago." *

* A quote from the movie Blood Diamond

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The Best for the Patient

Well, people have a notion and a firm belief that the best comes for those who wait. And thats how the world has been revolving- right around the belief. Parents ask their children to wait so God gives them the best. At a work place, the superiors ask a subordinate to wait so he gets the best and sages preach that patience and waiting will definitely give you the best. Hmmm...I say different.

I'm claiming, it’s like a circle. I'd say, people believe in waiting for the best without actually realizing the underlying logic (at least according to me). It’s just that people wait indefinitely for their "best" and after a while get tired of waiting and accept what comes their way saying "it's probably for their best" and then confirm that it was indeed, without a look at the other perspective or a positive speculation in its outcome thereby avoiding risks. It’s an insecure world. People want to play on safe shores and the saying "The best for those who wait" is just synonymous to "Hope for the Best".

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The She that Wanted to Be

Some people just think the world revolves around them. Period.

There was this girl that I knew or rather “mis-knew“who, was beyond doubt quite good looking, decent at academics and from an affluent family. She was also the kind who was quite emotional. She’d describe even climbing up a stair as a Herculean task if she had done it, otherwise would just pass it off as worthless. She also had a few guys approach her. Well, probably that got to her head. I wouldn’t know nor do I wish to.

The other day, we were having a mundane conversation and I was quite on the listening side. Some people call that to be good. I don’t know. I just asked her how life was though I knew what the reply would be.

“Terrible… really… all these subjects that I study are real tough. I don’t know what to do…”, came the reply.

I offered a simple solution that even a 2 year old would have. “Study of course!”

“I know that dumbass. But you wouldn’t understand. These are tough with a capital T. Just real problems. You don’t know what I’m facing.”

For a moment I thought she was working for NASA. I regretted having opened my mouth to provide a solution. Being a moderate conversationalist seemed like a boon. To divert the talk I asked her how her life was, GENERALLY. Her friends and stuff like that.

“My friends are great! We have this Huuuge group of 6 friends. We have fun that other groups would just be jealous of.”

My group consisted of 8 people and I wasn’t “ecstatic” about it.
“What kind of fun??” Pardon my curious nature.

“Regularly eating out, bunking class, chewing gum during class hours, you know, awesomeness everywhere!!”

Mundane fun magnified. After a search in vain for a reply, I said “hmmm…”

“Also, some of the guys in my class are looking at me and are like… ‘oooo… that girl…who’s she?’ . The guys keep looking at me and talk about me. I know that”

This time I didn’t even want to “hmmm…” a reply.

“I keep getting these mails from these people. It’s like they are tracking me. After a few days, they resend the mails begging me to ‘please respond to the requests’”

I was listening though not intently at the ramblings. Then came the least expected statement.

“The best part is I get these kinds of mails even from girls. I can understand boys. But girls, well… (laughing)”

“Really? What kind of mails? “, I asked.

“When you come home the next time I’ll show you”

A few days later I dropped by. I remembered the mails and asked her about it. She agreed but warned me not to let this out and here I am blogging it. You’ll know why.

We sat in front of the computer and she opened her mail box. Then she grouped the mails that’s she spoke about and then showed them to me.

The subject of the mails read “You have been Tagged”.

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Amidst a Few Hours of Anarchy...

Note: This post does not contain any exaggerated information.

The day was presumed to be peaceful. It was a Sunday. Until, the day marked the arrival of a well known personality (I’m forced to call it one) in the city. According to me, it doesn’t have a name. Probably, one who is not to be named? I can’t say. But that’s close enough when in comparison with the characteristics of He who must not be named.

Needless to say, the support was massive. Crowds from all over the place and more came to catch a glimpse of it. The city was well lit and even at night, it felt like a sunny day. During other times, probably it’s the other way round. Everything was taken care of. Roads were well laid, etched out walls and parapets of flyovers painted. I guess Chandrayaan would have spotted more craters here than in the moon. Everything had been taken care of. What had been promised or was mandatory had been done. Finally. Though it’s only for a day.

And surprisingly the pace at which the work was carried out, just for the one that’s visiting, was astonishing. Speed breakers and craters vanished like a million termites were set on a log of wood.

The meet was scheduled at evening. As I told, people from all over had come down dressed in monotones. The city was facing a grave traffic chaos. Not that it’s different any other day. I’m just stressing that it was more pronounced on the Sunday. The brighter side of it, literally, was that the city did not suffer from a power shutdown.

Mobs had gathered and were enjoying the lust for alcohol and smoke. I’m not sure about the other sin. For an instance, the place took up the mantle of hell itself. I could see it and so can anyone. Buses and Lorries parked right in front of the houses without the least respect for the board “No parking in front of the gate” would lead anyone to presume that the rate of illiteracy has and is growing exponentially. Well, what am I thinking; the reason for the support is now obvious.

While the meet was drawing to an end, most of the people drunk and dancing. Shouting and swearing slogans against other castes and creed, the basic characteristics of human decorum was absent. A new race on the emergence. People were unable to walk a straight line. Some were down on the middle of the road like it was their cozy bed. And police protection for them.

Unable to endure it anymore, I went in and closed the door for fear of intrusion and assault. Monday. The city back to square one. No policemen on the streets, no one ways, no lights, no power, no speed limits. When I saw this, I knew there was at least one welcome change- It had left the city. For now.

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A Series of Misfortunate Events

Rainy season. The day drenched in the beauty of the rain and the night giving you the chill to make your blood freeze inside. The lush green (the meager amount left in this modern jungle) wearing the color of the deepest of its shade you can imagine.

Good things don’t last long. It’s both God’s and a politician’s plan with a difference only in the motive. The former’s is to avoid being insatiable and the latter’s the result of being insatiable. These feelings, the calmness inside lasted till I reached the flyover to reach another part of the city. I noticed the time. It was 10:35 a.m. The flyover measures roughly about 300 meters. Quite a short ride. After crossing the flyover I checked the time. It was 11:15 a.m.

Finishing my work, I went home at 12:30 p.m. I had the intention of watching a movie or listening to some music. I guess, man proposes and a politician disposes. There wasn’t power. Being idle can simulate a lot of thoughts. Tired from scaling the flyover like it was the gargantuan Himalayas itself; I began to ponder what took me so long to cross that one tiny stretch.

Well, what was I thinking? Of course Politicians are “brainy”. Well, let me first explain how the fly over is built. There is a main flyover for cars and other huge vehicles and a sub flyover (more a crawl under) for two wheelers. The fly over has been built in such a way that it also acts as a reservoir during the rainy season. Be amazed at the sheer planning of it! So, the armies of two wheelers that are likely to use the underground have two options.

1. Go scuba diving.
2. Choose the safer but ultra-crowded path.

It’s obvious which path they took for fear of sharks or probably the Lochness itself.

Enraged (who wouldn’t be?) and thoughts raging through anything it could scourge, I hypothesized a little pet theory.


I guess every responsible Indian citizen feels the same. That India is beyond salvation.

Now the time is around 4:00 p.m. Power is back. Am I happy? Hell Yeah! So I can get this thing penned and spread the joy.

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The Premonition

Time: 9:51 a.m., November 12th

I had dream last night that I got the long awaited call from my employer. Ignoring that the event was highly unlikely (at least I thought so), I went back to sleep. Too frankly put it, I didn’t even wake up. I ignored it even in my sleep. Waking up by around 8 in the morning and after finishing off my daily routine, I start to write about the dream. I name the post “Dreaming the Unlikely”. After writing about a couple of lines I save the document and switch off the computer. I can’t remember why. Power cut, probably?

Time: 7:03 p.m., November 13th

I don’t know what to say. What to call it. But it happened. I have proof. I’m posting pictures of what proof I have. By around 5:30 I got a call from my employer and they gave me the joining date that was quite close to what I dreamed. The difference is only a week. My dream told me I’d join earlier. But that’s not the bottom line. I’m about to join and I dreamt about it just a day ago.
Again, I don’t know what to say. What to conclude of it. Coincidence or not. I can’t answer that.

My blog entries folder showing the post and the date modified

The Original blog post

A lot of people may disagree branding this as madness. Probably. Probably not.

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The "Freud" in them...

Well… I’m writing this post on the belief that you know who Sigmund Freud is. If not, I’d recommend Google.

Anyway, the other night, I was tired from being my daily regular pointless nomadic self (I’m still waiting for my call letter and I will even if it takes all eternity) from the hot sunny afternoon till the not so sunny evening. As soon as I reached home I hogged supper as though my hogging outside wasn’t just enough and hit the sack.

Normally, I’d keep the ringing volume of my mobile at the maximum even though it’d warm me that “loud ringtones can damage your hearing”. It’s only human to defy and establish supremacy over machines as we’re the ones who created them. At say, 0:06 my phone beeped as if it was on fire. I remember not having kept an alarm at 0:06. Frustrated, I got up to see that I had got around 7 messages from the same guy. Expecting some kind of an emergency, though surprised that I had got messages instead of a call, I opened the first text message. It read the exact words as below.

“She is the one who always loved you. She stood by your side and waited for you to become what you want. She loved you even better than all the other people around. She would do anything for you. You should also love her. She is none other than mother (notice the reference). Good night.”

Alright! Who doesn’t!? By being sensible I should have known what to expect from the next message. But by being human, I ignored my gut feeling and opened the message. It read-

“You are the one who can define yourself. You are the one who can do what you want to do. You should always be optimistic and determined to do what you want to do. If you do it then that life is yours. Good night.”

It was 0:11. I didn’t know whether it was due to my being sleepy or because of the lame content that I felt I was in a drunken stupor.

Frustration. I experienced it firsthand in the first hour of the day. Imagine my plight. I’m not going to quote the rest of the messages because
1. I didn’t read them.
2. I don’t want my blog to be described as death’s incarnate.

I had questions arising out of my frustration. What do these people want?! Why “good night” seven times in a row? What’s the point of these messages? I’ll never find the answers though.

I still have one question to ask myself. Am I under some kind of a secretive psychiatric experimentation or psychoanalysis and are these people my Sigmund Freud…?

I feel sorry for the great Sigmund Freud as I have made this comparison for he’ll be turning in his grave. But that’s the least I could do to these so called “Messengers” on duty.

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A Soldier Everyday...

Looking out on a thoughtless day
Longing to see heaven someday
A benign feeling of a lonely heart
Seeing all that’s true and all that’s false.

Feelings rushing out through the window
Into a world that’s pulling its strings so fast
Cruising the ship towards madness
As the mighty sea warps us with its talons.

Enter the fray
To live by the day
Die in the blight
Be reborn every night.

The only hope to the abode of suns
To rain down its rays and wash us off our sins
To bring out the halo back to its birth
And surround our babies with its golden hymns.

Born into this world we are here to go
Back to the form that we once adorned.
Yet in the eternal darkness we fight
Blind to what’s wrong and what’s right.

Enter the fray
To fight by the day
Die in the blight
Be reborn every night.

Enter the fray
Die by the day
Burn in the blight
Be reborn every night.
Embrace afterlife
And enter the fray…

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A Simple Loop in the Long Chain

Well, Today I got a comment from one of my fellow bloggers in this Blogosphere- Rakesh Vanamali, saying I’ve been tagged. I didn’t know what nuts it meant! But I was, for one thing, sure that he wasn’t a guy who fools around. As usual, I went to his blog to find out that he had been just as clueless when he was tagged, as I am now. After reading his post, I kind of figured what I was supposed to do.

Here’s the rub. I’m required to answer two questions each from my past, present and future. And the questions are posed by the tagger (if that’s what you call them) himself.

Flashback Reel:-

My oldest Memories

My oldest memory, proper, would effectively require a hypnotist, though I’ll try my best. It would definitely be my childhood days when the needs were just as much as what our status was. A very simple life. The little games after school that my sister and I used to play. The little fights we had and the patch work after that. The small but lovely house that I would still call as a cozy home. The thrashings from dad and mom that I laugh at now when I think of my mischief. The love for He-Man! Sneaking off without anyone’s notice to salvage a bottle of Pepsi with my brother and then getting caught because of spilling Pepsi on my shirt in a failed attempt to play champagne with it. The golden days, I wish, would come back though in reality though I know they won’t, which leaves me with nostalgia for a company. Those really were the days and I’d trade anything I have now to relive them.

What was I doing 10 years ago…

Well, that would take me to the year 1998. I was in 6th standard. That was the first time a new scheme was introduced at school. The highest performers of the class in all the examinations throughout the year would be exempted to write the annual examinations and would directly be promoted to the next class. Two members from our class were selected. One was a girl who was the topper. I’m leaving you to guess the other obvious elite.

Now and real:-

Today…

I had been tagged and I noticed it just as I was going to write a new post. So, I give it a shot as this is my first time in being tagged. Otherwise it had been a normal mundane day. Watching the movie “To kill a Mockingbird” was the most interesting part.

Future's Dreams:-

Tomorrow…

Ditto as today. Guitar classes, a new movie (trying to cover the whole imdb top 250), hogging and continue to wait for my appointment order.

What do you see yourself doing 14 years from now?

Hopefully a professional in the IT industry by day and a Guitarist (rockstar??) by evening and then pinch myself and wake up to know that 14 years is quite a long time to be speculated upon now. Nevertheless, I dream of making it big in the music industry someday.

If I build a Time Capsule what would it contain…

In the rarest of rare events that I finish building one, it’d contain my music, movies collection along with my guitar stuff (that includes my guitar obviously), my blog archive, my photographs and the blueprint of my time capsule. Phew, I hope the capsule is more like Noah’s ark.

Dreamcatching:-

I guess it’s time to tag.

Jayaprasad - A train of Thought
Siddharth - A Sliver a Day
Vivek - My Occam's Razor
Chiju - Chiju Speaks
Janani - Magnolia Cresent
Akshay's Blog

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The Incredible Sulk

10:00 p.m., Day- Unknown

And there she sat. On the couch crying out loud. A few people standing nearby saw her and yet stood still like dressed up mannequins. He was passing by and couldn’t help but Sit nearby and wonder what made her cry so much. What had struck her heart like a scythe that she couldn’t control her emotions in a place of public silence, he wondered. She cried and poured out a rain of tears, he guessed that she could dehydrate any moment.

He got up and left the place to get a glass of water and came back to see the woman still sobbing uncontrollably. She then looked up and spoke to god in a voice of distress.

“Why God? Why me? Why not the others?”

He couldn’t understand why. She was neither willing to give a reason nor give up her tears. She continued sobbing. And the mannequins were still staring helplessly not wanting to intervene and incur the wrath of the lady.

Water wasn’t enough, he understood. He went to fetch a glass of juice, preferably orange- fermented. His conscience would’ve suggested alcohol though, probably a bottle of scotch or rum. He returned to see the same state of mind haunt the lady through. She wasn’t to be controlled. She kept saying things. Things that you utter when in emotional distress. Things about asking questions for which you might never find answers. He was wondering what holocaust can put a woman through such a plight. Having sat there, his brain felt anesthetized.

10:29 p.m.

Suddenly, another woman entered the place. She looked quite happy with a wry smile on her face. And now, he could see only the woman’s face. The woman now took a vengeful look at the crying lady accompanied by hard drum beats and a clichéd music running at the background as the phrase “…to be continued” appeared on the screen followed by the roll of credits. The guy got up, switched off the T.V. and went off to sleep.

As promised, the tele-serial continued on for months.

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At Childhood’s End

All through the festival holidays, though having had some fun, I had been pondering about the general reduction in bursting of crackers this year. The change had been quite pronounced. So I figured I had three reasons to come up with.

1. I had gone deaf due to age, so I couldn’t listen to anyone bursting them. But I’m not that old yet. So, veto.
2. Not much of expenditure for people this year due to the stock market crash. Now, that’s stupid. Veto.
3. Not enough crackers produced as the gun powder might be exported to another place to aid a war for Liberation. Duh?!?

The night of Diwali, after dinner, I went for a walk to enjoy the breeze and the chill. While on the road, I saw a small boy walking down the street. I guessed him to be around 10-12 years of age.

I called out to him.

Me: Hey! Boy!

The Boy turned around. I saw him and observed that he looked quite mature for his age.

Me: I’ve seen you somewhere though I can’t place where.
The boy: And you must be ID:180687
Me: Hey! That’s what my friends call me! Anyway, if you don’t mind my asking, you seem to have gobbled up an entire sweets shop to put on THAT much of a weight. Outside exercises could help. Go and play some sport, kid!
The boy: This is my compact form. I can transform into a much bigger self of mine by repeated screwing and unscrewing though I don’t do that often as it tends to bore people after the first time they see it. I am Pessimist-at-Prime. My friend Mega-moron and I have come from a galaxy far far away to preach the religion of machines.
Me: …?? Yeah, and I’m superman from Krypton the unmasked vigilante in his traditional night gown, here to save our world. Pleased to meet you.

The boy scowled at my mockery.

Me: Now, why aren’t ya bursting crackers??
P-a-P: I don’t enjoy crackers. The slightest change in my system can cause me to shutdown immediately and never wake up again to see another dawn.
Me: Boy, you must be running Windows. Now, quit playing and tell me. Why aren’t you bursting crackers!? I thought you were a kid. A liking for these kinds of enjoyments is natural for your age, I guess!
P-a-P: You humans are naïve, narrow sighted. Our race comes in the form of Playstations, Televisions, Cell phones etc. We are not the kinds who enjoy the outside world. We like to be in our cozy cardboard niches. Now we’re here to “transform” the cute, lively children of this planet into obese couch potatoes!
P-a-P: Muahahahaha! (Evil laughter)

I could neither decipher nor believe what this guy was trying to say. Just then, one of the kids from my neighborhood came running along. It was Papli the youngest in our area. He is 10 years old.

Me: Hey, Papli!
Papli: Hi anna*! Hi Bubby!
Me: Bubby??

Bubby looked at me and gave a sarcastic smile.

Papli: Yeah, this is Bubby from my school. He joined this year. He’s from the United States!!

Boy! Do our people get excited when they see people from the other parts of the world.

Me: So, Papli? Not bursting crackers eh?
Papli: No, not anymore. Crackers have become boring. I’m going to Bubby’s house to play some playstation. He has these new games that can keep anyone engaged for hours together! C’mon bubby. It’s getting late. Let’s go. See you anna! Bye!

Without a reply, I turned around and made my way home. Neither to this day nor in the future will I be ever able to decipher whether what bubby said was true.

Machines are taking over the world giving little room to the age old harmless joys of humanity making life more a routine than a journey. The world is at its childhood’s end.

anna*- Brother, Bro

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