Wait for me

Watch the road and turn back once more,
Look over your shoulder and search no more,
Coz I’ll be there, m just a lil late,

As my legs are paining, can’t run faster,
Lungs are breaking, I am panting harder ,
But when I see you, its worth the wait.

So, wait for me when you reach the sky,
Wait for me when you choose to die,
Wait for me when the cool winds blow,
Wait for me when your heart is low,

Wait for me all this while,
Wait for me, oh just wait for me
The next time you smile

I am almost there, one block away,
Can fall anytime, but you just stay,
Be there when I come, be there for me.

So wait for me, when the clock ticks away,
Wait for me when you pray,
Wait for me when the guns cry loud,
Wait for me when you’re in doubt.


Wait for me all this while,
Wait for me, oh just wait for me
The next time you smile

They are blocking me, I can see you standing,
Turn to me- I scream, turn one last time,
I know you’ve waited long enough,
It’s been too late,
So, if I don’t make it in time, I hope you never wait

The man on the scooter

He swooshes past you on the road. How dare he impede the road you own. The idiot that he is doesn’t know that the one with more wheels rules the streets. Yes, the very same faceless man hiding behind his wizer, to protect himself from an accident or curses, only he knows.
Why was he speeding anyway? Is he running late for a movie? That’s understandable. Was he late for work? Huh, the lazy retard must have got up late. Its people like him that make the streets unsafe. Zipping across between cars. So what if his scooter fits in smoothly between two sedans, he has no business to disturb others.
It’s so distracting for drivers, busy on the phone with a friend planning a party this coming weekend. I mean come on, the busy lives we lead don’t leave us with much time to catch up on.

He deserves all the malicious words thrown at him, so does his mom and his sister.

Suddenly he bumps in to you, how could he not see you were talking to your friend at the backseat? Was he blind?

Damn! The headlight is broken, and you are in big trouble because your dad will ban your rights to a car for the next 2 months. So unfair, you didn’t even do anything, it was his fault.
You scream at him, but he doesn’t. Why would he, it was his fault. No, wait, he is still down on the road. Not moving at all, just lying still. Is he breathing? How much will a headlight cost? Is he alive? Will dad kill you for damaging the car?

As you ponder over your car, his family awaits the arrival of their son for lunch.
As you weep over your probable strangled freedom, his family cries over nothing. They just cry...

Stick it up for saturday

For ages sunday has been the official flagbearer for everything that stands for leisure. Think of the word Holiday and your mind zooms directly on a sunday. Sunday is awaited with great enthusiasm irrespective of age. School children, corporate bigshots all look forward to the 7th day of the week as if its the last of their life.

In all this, we all miss out on one important day, a day that does not get its due recognition, a day that is not shown the respect it deserves, a day that is called Saturday.

Saturday lays the foundation for humans to build a grand sunday on. Saturday does all the hard work by providing people with a day to recover from all the head-less chicken like running of the previous 5 days. Saturday allows people to plan for a sunday. Imagine if there was no saturday, the cushion for a perfect transition from a gruelling week to a chilling sunday would be lost.

Why is sunday so over hyped anyways? Sunday fills you up with depression, as you know the week starts the very next day. it's because of a sunday that people all over the world hate monday. i mean, what has monday done?poor fellow. All he did was follow sunday.

Saturday takes all the brunt of the week where as sunday very nicely licks up the adulation.

Its time we give saturday its credit thats long overdue.

P.S: For all those living in middle east, just relpace sunday with friday and saturday with thursday and the mesage will not be lost on you.

You didn't succeed

Put bombs in bins, cycles and all places imaginable you cowards. Kill as many people you want, we are a billion strong nation, we will cope with it. But, for a change show us your F***ing faces, if its a bloody fight then come forward beating your chest and then we will see who has the last laugh, in this case a last cry.
your bombs were not loud enought to shatter our hearts, your bombs weren't strong enough to hurt a nation wounded with poverty and corruption, your bombs are as useless as your plans.
Want to kill more?
I will still go to GK -1 market to hang out, i would still have nimbu soda at prince pan, i will still go to CP, i will still roam aimlessly in the centre park and i will make sure i go to gaffar market now. Are you listening cowards?? target me, you know where i will be, you know where the whole of delhi will be. OUT ON THE F***ING STREETS. target us for all we care because we won't let you succeed,ever.

Blossoming irritation

The next time I receive a useless bouquet of pretty flowers that last no more than a fly's life, I swear the one who presents them is going home hungry. the fixation that people have with giving out flowers is beyond me. Gifts on special occasions are supposed to be cherished forever, or atleast a few years/months. What's the use of a gift that will become rat feed 3 days later.Or if the flowers are lucky, they will become manure and help their extended family expand.

I guess people who give flowers as gifts are the laziest people on the face of this planet. And when I say lazy,it includes both mind and body. For starters, they are lazy enough not to think of the perfect gift for the person sponsoring their food and wine for the evening. Secondly, if some manage to overcome this mind boggling question that has eluded the most brilliant of minds over the years, they won't bother lifting their sorry arse to get that prized possession.

Don't people notice the hatred and curses dripping from the receiver's eyes while he/she happily accept a burden they can easliy do without on a joyous day? And the worst part is that 90% of our relatives/ffriends belong to this breed of flower gifting people. No matter how good looking the flowers are, you can't stuff all of them in your home. imagine going for a dump in the morning only to be bothered by a lily tickling your crack.I mean after a point one runs out of space.

I guess now you have a fairly good idea of what not to bring on my birthday or else you go hungry(refer to the first line in case you got lost in between my rumbling)

Nothing will forever last

To live for a second,
to die in another,
the time in between,
lasts forvere.

You live for a lifetime,
put everything at stake,
when you have shambles to yourself,
you realize - I should've been long awake.

To hate for a moment,
can destroy two worlds,
was it justified,
the thought still lurks.

You Cherish the old time,
and it makes us weak,
don't remmeber them,
makes them bleak.

you die for a lifetime,
erasing your past,
don't cling on to me my love,
nothing will forever last...

LEST WE FORGET

The plane that took off never landed,
so cruel was the blow of fate,
wiped off a generation never to be born again,
their play was a spectacle to behold,
as the brave eight now play with god,
Fifty years since that cold fateful day,
eyes are moist, tears forvever stay

Road I took

A long road beckons my steps,
some voices fuel my reluctance to tread forward.
The sounds are selish and malicious,
beseeching me to probe the unknown,
for a cause they know themselves.

I cry, I shout , I plead,
but the cruelty of the hands that push pay no heed,
I don't look back, accepting my fate,
coz my destiny awaits, on the treachorous road I take.

Living my blog

Low work pressure makes you do all kinds of fun things. But, the fun things end after some time when they aren't fun anymore. That's the time your mind starts exploring all the untouched and useless corners that have never been visited before. Recently, on such a trip my mind stumbled upon a weird theory - I am living my blog. I discovered to my schock, the uncanny resemblence that my blog shares with my life.

For instance after its creation my blog was lying idle, being wasted just like my life. I would call my life a waste in the initial years for the simple reason that I never did things I wanted to. I never realised that missing out on the things I cherished would leave a scar so deep that it will hurt forever. Regrets can leave even the most intrepid of souls wailing like a kid.

Moving on I decided to do something with my life. Do something that held some meaning to me. Something I wanted to do. Had had enough of people guiding me for 'my betteerment'. So I picked up advertising. Just as I finally decided to paint my blog with my thoughts ( life is sometimes all about sick cliches).

Then came a time when after a strong gush of youthful exuberance and the tireless writing on my blog, I was left with a blogger's block. Ditto was happening with my life. A nice but short period of time was quickly over and I was left with nothing but vaccum.

Currently my life and blog are walkin hand in hand. I am trying hard to look for topics to write ( you would have got it by now, didn't you?) at the same time looking at my life from a distance, trying to look beyond the present and workinghard to make something out of it...

Auto - MAD-dic

The last time I checked the stats, it said that Delhi alone boasts of more cars than Mumbai,Calcutta, Chennai combined. If that's the case then how come there are no AutoRickshaws available in the national capital when you need them.

9:30am - I step out of my home without my trusted Kiney. For some reason I had to take an auto today on my way to a friends place.

9:35am - It starts to rain as soon as I am about to reach the Auto stand.
Standing on the road without any tool for shelter, standing next to some wiser-than-me people who were armed with umbrellas, raincoats, newspapers etc I started the hopeful process of sticking my hand out to signal the auto wallas of my interest to take a ride.

9:36am - A dozen autos pass by me and the wiser-than-me gang, with the passengers giving us sorry looks which were at the same time mocking.

9:37am - After being ignored to the hilt I decided to start walking towards a signal hoping for luck to change.

9:40am - I reach the signal. But sadly passenger-less autos did not. Rain picked up speed.

9:41-55am - I am still standing with the wiser-than-me gang, who by that time had also reached the signal.Lazy bums.

9:56 am - I spot an auto coming towards me at a slow pace, which generally means it is empty. I stretch my neck that extra inch and narrow my eyelids for a closer and cleaner view.THE AUTO IS EMPTY! Oh sweet lord! What could go wrong now??!!

9:56:40 am - Things change. Never count you autos before they stop...NEAR YOU.

9:57am - The auto stops. Yes it does. But 20 metres away from me, near one of the wiser-than-me lazy creature who took ages to come here.

9:58 am - My temperature rose as the rain poured down.

9:59 am - Then something miraculous happened. I spotted another empty auto in a space of 3 mins. This time leaving nothing to fate I ran towards it. I am sure the wiser-than-me gang also saw me running. Who is wiser now, eh!!! Lazy bums.

10:00 am - I tell my friend I am going to be a bit late...

Our borders are unsafe - concluding part

The torture starts....
All lowly people were asked to fill up the amphitheatre and all foreigners were dragged away from the maddening crowd to the safety and comfort of the space offered by the BSF jawans. Packed like sardines it was a sight to witness, but, only from a distance. People falling over each other, pushing the person in front, at the back,on the left, on the right and shouting unpleasant words at evey person who returned the favour. All this while the strong BSf 'jawans' were looking after the foreigners, the set of people whose forefathers were the sole reason why Wagha was a border and why 100 meters from my seat was a different country.

Why were the hordes of people not stopped from entering when the arena was already overflowing with people, ill words, sweat and discomfort still escapes me. HAving finally kicked and shoved a dozen people we sat down thinking what else could happen. What else? Fate had a big plan to ruin our day.

A man from the BSF camp holding a microphone came out from a BSF office like structure and greeted everyone.He did not get the response he desired for obvious reasons, so the guy had to repeat his pleasantries 3 more times asking the exhausted crowd to shout 'jai hind'. I wish i could shout or piss in his ears the fact that ' We don't have a mic in our hands and we haven't placed our asses in comfy chairs for over 2 hours'.

Moving on from the shouting display of tired patriotism, our friend with the mic then came out with two big tricolours which was greeted with, yes, loud cheers! The two flags were then passed on to random people who were asked to run with the flags towards the main gate. Why it was done, I have no clue. Young boys, young girls, old women, old men, school kids, two marathi aunties etc all got a chance to run a lap towards Pakistan with Indian national flag. The BSF jawans were still looking while thousands continued to push, shove, kick, punch.
That was not all.There were large speakers playing patriotic songs from yester years. But I guess the BSF jawans who were looking probably had enough of those numbers. So on came songs by Jazzy B, Sukhbir and some other random cheap flicks.Just perfect for the occasion.

To add to the omnipresent commotion the BSF 'jawans' who were still looking, started selling juices and chips.This had a snowball effect on the hunger stricken and thirsty public. People climbed more on other bodies not hungry for chips. More kicks flew, more anonymous punches were thrown, and the people who were supposed to be stopping all this were the instigators.

For the first time and hopefully the last time I wanted to be on the other side of the border. Where there were just a handfull of wise people who had come to watch the famous ceremony. No crowd problem, no ill mannered talk, nothing at all that would upset you on a joyous and happy day.

Banging our concerns on the BSF 'jawans' was as futile as asking Himesh to use his throat to sing/ shout or whatever. So after the 40th time when the BSF 'jawans' overlooked our pleas to ask people to sit down let alone behave, we decided to embark on another journey - that would lead us out of the arena.

My only concern is that a big post of BSF could not manage a simple show that they are running for so many years. People who had good intentions, people who were unarmed, people who came to have a good time can't be so damn difficult to control. The inefficiency and the lack of management or effort was clearly, brutally exposed that day. And like the typical Indian that I am, I promised myself to make all sorts of phone calls, emails or whatever it takes and come again to this place armed with a VIP pass.

AAAHHHH.....big load off my chest. RANT OVER

Our borders are not safe

Run people, pack your bags, apply for immigration visas to Bangladesh, Myanmar or any nearby place where you can quickly escape, because our borders are not safe anymore.

Flashback: 2 weeks ago I went for a short trip to Amritsar. And like all the 20,06,345 tourists that flock the city every weekend, I decided to stop at Wagha border. I can't describe in words my level of excitement at being at a place that has witnessed so much during the course of history. Partition, wars, brotherhood, you name it and that tiny spec of land has got it all. We reached the border around 3 in the afternoon only to realise the gates would open at 4:30. With truckloads of time to kill we decided to murder it the Indian way, by having cold drinks, tea and challi( we call it Bhutta or corn).

Being at a place of such importance comes with a price. In our case it was the exorbitantly over priced bhutta. Not willing to pay 20 bucks for a bonsai looking piece of corn I decided to use the cunning emotional Indian inside me. 5 mins of blabbing to the man selling corn how it is my privilege to buy corn from the last corn seller of India. He finally did with my persuasion what I did with his corn, he bought it.



Oh and by the way you will have to bear with the whole story to reach the part where I reveal how our borders are not safe.

The next thing to battle before you enter the gates are street vendors selling VCD/DVD of the famous hoisting of the flag ceremony at Wagha border. The poor guys are blessed with just a 10 second memory. What else explains the fact that the same vendor you refused 3 mins ago comes again and again and again to sell you a CD. His lame attempts to hard sell us his product reminded me of my own job where people try to sell their ideas. So, relatively the CD guy was sweeter than most hard skinned people in advertising.

So finally the clock struck 4:30 and the gates were opened to all innocent people and foreigners who after a few hours would think of themselves as slaughter lambs. Everybody was rushing in towards the amphitheatre carrying their wailing kids, water bottles, food packets, bags and litres of sweat mixed with excitement.

After I was frisked thoroughly by BSF personnel at three different levels, I was really impressed by their efficiency. How painfully and frustratingly I would have to eat my thoughts and crush my instant admiration for them later.


Torture begins......to be continued

NO - Me better

Finally the day has arrived when this 3 month old blog loses its virginity!! After pestering myself obsessively in my mind, going through countless guilt attacks of occupying cyber space and not doing anything fruitful with it, I have won the battle against my laziness to put pen to paper ( You know what I mean).

Along with the mental pressure that comes with writing a useless & aimless blog, comes greater anticipation of how people will react to my thoughts. Just thinking about torturous eyes of people who are equally jobless scanning away my posts will continue to haunt me. I might also pretend to put up a brave front and contradict myself by saying that I don't give a flying monkey's arse to what people think. But, that's not true, because I give a damn. 

One rule that I should define at the beginning is that critical comments are not welcome. If you have a problem with my post - keep it to yourself or just sugar coat it nicely. For all those who have taken offence already, I am just kidding!

I am someone who thinks of himself as a jack of all trades and master of none/some!! I have an ego bigger than most big things in the world. Pamela anderson are you listening? Although, it is not something I am proud of, rather it is something I wish I could cut off like a good for nothing body part. 

Blessed with a good sense of humour(at least I believe so) and an equal amount of extra weight I am a person with a really short temper. But only for those who are weaker than me! For all the brawny and strong lads I am very forgiving! 

Attaching myself to things/people easily remain one of my biggest flaws along with thinking about issues bothering me over and over again. I can give the term overthinker a valid reason to commit suicide.

So that was a 'little' briefer on what I wanted to say or rather wanted you to read about  me.