An Oblivion in Gray

May, 1999.

Alone, I lay, covered in my own grief and blood. My once pugilistic self had gone placid. Clenched fists slowly unveiled to become open hands trying to embrace the situation that was once a behemoth looming over its prey. The rumbling skies looked down upon me with utmost sorrow that it began to rain its cries. It was a season when the sky didn’t know whether to reveal the sun or the rain. Nevertheless, it rained. I lay there humbled by the gesture. My accoutrements were strewn all over the place. Glimmers of past memories whisked my mind like the flapping wings of a humming bird. There wasn’t any movement from me but for a wince that showed disbelief and realization at the same time. I had given up the urge to resist. I could see the images in front of my eyes blur and fade away. Everything there is, boils down to this one point, eventually. We had won but deep down, I know we lost. We lost everything. Things we loved and things that meant the most to us. The thought stuck me like a hungry blade right through the heart claiming what it was meant to almost immediately.

A life of war and sacrifice,

I see no gain but pain.

A soldier seeking fortune in vain

I hope to live again.

Standing on the barren war front,

We go along the rhyme.

Fearing as the end approaches,

Victims of our own crime.

Left our traces on the war field,

By the many lives we steal.

As my comrades had their time,

And so did I have mine.

Walking through a shore of bodies,

But will they rest in peace?

There’s no life without a soul

And the power that makes them whole.

Kneel and pray for forgiveness

My wounds are hard to heal.

For all the deeds that have been done,

Search for reasons none.

With this thought, I closed my eyes... darkness. Black. Everything went dead silent and I knew I was sinking. Then, a shadow stretched out its hand.

Footnotes: The content sans the time period is entirely fictitious. The time period is when the kargil war took place. I have tried to pen down my imaginations on the revelation a wounded soldier experiences in the last few minutes of life.

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Sonny: Attitude Blow-Up

click on the image to enlarge it.

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The She that Wanted to Be - II

"Hey! .. How was your day?" She asked.

"Quite hectic. With the marriage nearing, I couldn't ask for more."

"Mine's been hectic too."

I knew she was gonna say that. After spending years trying to get to know her, i could not make the mistake of misjudgment.

My day was hectic, so was hers. Mine was damn bad, so was hers. I had a huge friend's circle, she had an even bigger one. So she thought.

"So, A long weekend comin' your way.. big plans?"

"yep. I want to learn 4 languages. I want to learn to play the piano. And I want to draw my own caricature on a big paper." she said.

A long weekend is usually 3 days. Not a lifetime.

"Great. So, when do you plan to start?"

"Tomorrow. Today, has been hectic!"

"What!? you don't even work!"

"Its been hard.."

"To whhat?"

"To find a mystery egg."

I took out a gun and shot her. No. I wanted to do that... But she would have mauled me in the afterlife.

I just laughed while sulking.

Ban farmville. Get a life.

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Why Whine Wine

1. Starts with one generation. Ends with another.

2. Too much of it in a day might knock you off.

3. Too much of it for a period of time will cause brain degeneration.

4. Is not sweet.

5. Kept to rot and that’s how others enjoy it.

6. Goes well with food.

7. After enough attraction sometimes it is all one can talk about.

8. The more the age, the more the value.

9. Stands the test of time.

10. Some lonely people consider it an indispensible companion.

Oh yeah... there is one subtle difference though.

Wine is heaven. A Television serial isn't.

Much as i'm against serials, i'm not against all of them. There are a few good stuff. Frankly, the majority is for nincompoops.

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OvertKill

A nightmarish blood-lusting ghost,

Killing everyone, the path that he goes.

Die at the hands of the wraith

Victimize us for his religious faith.

Her majesty’s palace in burns.

Crying fire sparks while hammered to yearn.

Spilling the blood of your creed.

What good is it when there’s no profit or need.

This hate crime we can’t comprehend.

Hardened but helpless we fight to the end.

We fall to the ground as we cry.

You pride at our misery while watching us die.

The hands of fate- risen again,

Claiming its heads through the blood-hungry men.

It’s all just one big overt kill,

A bloodied masterpiece incomplete still.

Justice, it strikes slow and hard.

But what of the remains that’s broken and scarred?

What of our loved ones again?

What of our loved ones again?

Will we see them again?

I know it is not November yet. But I wrote this sometime back and thought I might as well post it now that the verdict has been passed.

Image Courtesy : Google Images

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Sonny: Stereo-Type

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Beware of this Post

It’s a known fact that the great minds work in the loo. Mine is no different.

I meant to say, mine works in the loo too, though useful thoughts hardly pass through.

Hey! That rhymes!

Sigh… Anyway…

I was just thinking, about some warning signs put up by dog owners outside their homes to warn strangers about them and that there isn’t one way of warning them without someone making a comment about it.

Some of them read

Beware of Dogs:

Thanks for the general advice but mine is quite friendly. Seriously.

Beware of the Dog:

Man… No offence… but is your dog the last surviving member of the species? No? Let me guess, was he the dog that the Greek God Hades petted? No no… wait… that was Cerebrus… which one is yours, again?

Beware: Dogs Inside:

Ha ha ha ha!! What do I say!? What CAN one say!? I know you have family issues, but please don't rebuke them in public...

So I guess the best would be to just hang something like this outside and let your dog and the stranger take care of the rest.

Image courtesy: Google images - http://planetzuther.com/OTHER-IMAGES/dogIcon.png

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Escape

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 10; the tenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

On a lone silent chilly night

Two silhouettes tucked in tight

As they walked towards a lonely house

He kissed her hard and she didn’t grouse.

He wasn’t passionate, he wasn’t sweet

He was an animal that made him a freak.

She couldn’t see it nor could she tell

Drugs- his escape while she was still bleak.

Pressed against the bedroom door

And they went bang bang.

And so did the noises soar

Bang bang and bang.

As people heard the noises

Knowing not what to do.

Muffled up voices gasping for breath

One shouting for more and one wishing for death.

Then a final bang they heard

As one burst through the window

And the people gasped in fear

A lone figure emerged to escape through the rear.

And the door swung open

She fell to the ground dead.

With exit wounds in her body

And a bullet in her head.

Only Then did the people realize

What the bang bang really meant.

Now they knew better to shut up

And into their houses they fled.

Based on a true incident that happened in Oklahoma. The killer was arrested 11 years after Ronnie, the wrong man was sentenced to the same time to do in prison. 11 years later, Ronnie was exonerated after which he lived a measly 5 years of his life and died of ill health.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

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