Groovy, Trippy and Minty-fresh..

Close your eyes. Imagine a child building skyscrapers with his Lego toy blocks. Imagine his cute little pudgy hands as he plays with his toy cars, swooshing them all around the city. You’re sitting in one of those cars, driving through this urban setting with fresh green trees all around and a soft breeze ruffling through your hair.

Now open them. This is exactly what you feel while listening to Evergreen’s new single “City blocks”. It makes you feel like you are standing in the middle of Times Square in New York with the world moving in slow motion around you. Digitalized red, blue and green lights turn hazy and start fusing into each other... Groovy, Trippy and Minty-fresh.

Go ahead, see for yourself - Evergreen's New Single : City Blocks

Those Meandering Eyes...

those meandering eyes..
a window unto her world..
safe and auburn they seem..
yet they speak of a fire unquenched..
crackling away through the years..
softly hissing,whispering..

weary they seem..
to've become over the years..
but the skies within..
never dead..

composed and sophisticated she seems..
yet those eyes scream of a dragon untamed..
crackling away through the years..
softly hissing , whispering..

the black mascara, a veil..
hiding the sorrows and the tears ..
she shed over the years..
softly whimpering, whispering..

her eyes, dusty and husky..
shimmering in the stinging sun..
they speak of a summer solstice..
perhaps that's why she clings to her veil so tight..
that defensive azure gaze..
compels u to look deep within..

screaming,yelling,panting...
frantically waiting..
she yearns to rekindle her flame..

Black Swans and Wormhole Wizards

- an album View..





Yes,I prefer to view an album, instead of reviewing it. Reviewing makes it sound like a snobby old guy with large spectacles who hates everything in the world and still lives with his mom, trying to critique something. Well, I’m not. Get real. You don’t drink a nice strong glass of whiskey or take a hit from a good old sturdy bong only to start debating about its mechanical intricacies, now do you? You either enjoy it or u don’t, and then you go tell others about it. Simple. No snobbish critique crap. All right, so lets begin.


Hell yeah! The new Joe Satriani (a.k.a Satch) Album is finally here! How he manages to be so consistent in his work while most of his contemporaries are busy living off royalty is beyond me. All right, without any further bullshit, lets dive rite into the album! ….

The title – “Black swans and wormhole wizards” might make it seem like a drunk physicist’s random ramblings, but once u look at the album cover, you realize its none other than good ol’ Satch, himself.

Track#8: Two sides to every story – Now when u listen to this , you experience the same blissful feeling that an old retired guy, sitting at home in front of his window with the warm hazy sun shining in, would. Now this old guy is really aerially constipated. There’s a lot of gas in him, but it just won’t come out, so he’s really fvcked up. The first 12 seconds or so, of the song, tell you about his pain. And then you can literally feel him slowly lifting his right leg up and magically releasing all that toxic gas into the Earth’s atmosphere.

O man that moment of subtle silent pleasure when you have just been detoxified…Then Satch makes the guy groove to his song and the old man begins to transform into his young self! He grows back his long locks, his big ol’ pot belly shrivels in, his saggy draggy ol’ skin is tight again and you watch him start to emit waves of awesome rainbow colored radiation. You look into the guys eyes and you almost hear them say “ o yea baby, u see me!”. The blues are back mann!

He picks up his guitar and runs out to go “rocking in the free world”. Emitting laser powered notes he sends out hypnotic waves throughout the galaxy. Yes, you got it right. He’s the alien and you are surfing with him. Smoothly riding his galactic surfboard in the sky, as if cruising on a Hawaii wave, he shows you blackholes and ‘worm’ ones too, he seems to be saying ‘there u go son, that’s what you needed to see, now relax and let go’ and you simply glide endlessly with your eyes closed and your erectile organs straightened like an iron rod, guiding you like an antennae, into the beautiful land of the age old blues smiley bluesy blues blues blues blues ..

As Satch tells you, there are always two sides to every story, you just heard mine. What’s yours?


Track# 3:Pyrrhic Victoria is the heroic story of the crazy robot that you saw two years in “I just wanna rock” in “Professor Satchafunkilus and the Musterion of Rock”. While last year’s song told us of his victory in a brutal robo-battle, this song seems to be telling us of his adventures thereafter. To me, it seems like hes finally found a lady friend, a she-robot if you will, and oh boy! Does he like her wormhole or what…At 0.11 minutes, he seems to be asking her ‘Dance with me, wont you dance with me? Dance with me..”. He repeats this part many times in this song so we do get to know that the she-robot isn’t really easy come, easy go. He tries again n again n again but the skank just wouldn’t budge! So yes, he ends up burning her in flames and laughing maniacally towards the end, enjoying his little pyrrhic Victoria..


Next is the Track# 2:Dream song, which is sort of a letdown. I don’t really like it to tell you the truth. It makes me think of a really old grandma type lady rocking droningly in her armchair waiting to die, which is not a pretty picture. Sorry Satch, gotta be honest.

Track # 11 : God is crying . Yes that’s the message that all earthlings seem to have received. Mayhem! Anarchy! Chaos! All of us rush our asses up to heaven to check what’s up with him. Knock Knock. The big ass golden doors open creakingly …you nervously tip your head inside, scared of what you may see…and…

Ola! It’s all right! God is having a crazy angelic party up at his place! It was all a hoax. He just wanted all of us over for his party, hence the urgent melodramatic invite. God comes upto us and says, “Yes my children, the keg’s in the kitchen. Rejoice..”

And oh by the way, if you still haven’t realized this yet, let me give you a head’s up, ….Satch is God!

The next one, Track#10: Wind in the trees is such a trippy song! Even after 13 albums, Joe continues to innovate like crazy. Who needs grass, when there’s such, out of the world, mind numbing music around..

Tracks #1: Premonition and #6: Littleworth Lane (specially Littleworth Lane) simply make you feel good about yourself. Yes, even if you are a mass murderer out on the loose killing innocent babies. I cannot describe it better. Period.
One day when you travel to a deserted beach somewhere far off on the coast of Panama, and its sunset, you are lying there, naked, covered in sand, with your arms cushioning your head. When those hazy sunlit rays will shimmer through the sea, into your bones and will make you ‘think’, that is the exact same feeling you will have while listening to Track#5 Solitude.

Next, you are aboard the Starship Enterprise. They press the button for supersonic travel and swoooosh you enter a galaxy far far away, or as Satch puts it, Track#4: Light years away. Enjoy classic Satch with warm fuzzy tones and twisting , turning tapping licks.

Then comes Track#7: Golden room which is the story of an Indian bride sitting in her wedding dress, meditating inside a… well, a golden room.
Ancient war lords from far off lands are battling it out with each other to get inside the room, to win her heart and marry her. A war ensues and blood spills like crazy everywhere, while the bride remains oblivious of the proceedings outside, totally engrossed in her meditation of Lord Satch. Finally, when the battle ends, the champion opens the door to the golden room, only to realize that there is no bride inside. She has already left, to go ‘Surfing with the alien’!

You cannot imagine the immense surprise and joy that an Indian (me) feels on listening to a tabla/pakhavaj sound (Indian percussion instruments) on a Joe Satriani album. Give it up for outsourcing baby!

I save the best for last – Track#9: Wormhole wizards. The bass line will undoubtedly make you want to (pardon, me for the lack of language here) shake your booty! The guitaring is characteristically Satch-like. The whole feel of the song is so nice! You feel like a secret agent in the disco era during the 80ies running around on little retro missions! Oo that is perhaps why he has named the song wormhole wizards, because wormholes are basically shortcuts through space and time. Call them time machines, portals, cosmic bridges whatever. Satch takes you back in time to the 80ies baby!

Phew! What an album…

LonG nOsEs, EroTic PoSes..

ADOLF HITLER's journal…
21st January,2010..
10:34 p.m:

It’s a hard day’s night. I could be sleeping like a log. But I have promises to keep ,and miles to go before I sleep..

Today was another day, just like them all. Agonizing in self pity I woke up to the sound of the roosters in my farm .I have been working here since I …ehmm…“committed suicide” with Eva, my wife and Blondi, my dog. Oh wait…Shit... I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Ah.. Who cares anyway?

I love this quite little cozy place that Churchill gave me. It’s got one of those cute mills that you see in Dutch postcards, with sprawling lawns, peaceful mountains and cute busty farm girls…mmmm…what else could an ex-dictator wish for…?

I love doing what I do, raising chicken, growing potatoes and corn, shepherding sheep and slaughtering pigs. The ‘Nazi Swastik poultry farm’ has been doing really well over the years and that’s the only thing that drives me on now.

Anyways, waking up was followed by my usual dose of coffee and cigarettes. Then breakfast followed, which off course was prepared by my lovely housekeeper – Kim Kardashian –bacon , eggs and my favorite orange jew’ce. She ridicules me for writing this diary, ironically calling me today’s Anne Frank. I don’t retaliate. Considering her intimately erotic body, I don’t think anybody would, yes not even the Fuhrer.

Walking through the lobby, I went into the den for some quite time to myself. A sad ripple of a giggle broke across my face as I saw some of the books that I had written over the years, in honor of my friends – The Jews. The widely read graphic novel ‘Long noses , Erotic poses’ , ‘Hannukah with Santa Klose’ and ‘Concentrate your Camps: Vol I and II’ brought back nostalgic memories filled with sunshine.

We , i.e. the Jews and me, had always shared such a warm and amiable diplomatic relationship but the Americans exploited it, just like they are exploiting the Indians and Pakistanis these days. They just can’t tolerate the idea of world peace now can they?
I initiated the world unification and brotherhood movement back in the 40ies ( later termed as “Flower Power”) and started the ‘concentration camps’ where racists and communists were sent to ‘concentrate’ and ‘meditate’ among aromatic flowers and scented candles to let go off their negative vibes but oh no! We, the mighty Americans can’t live in a world with any bad guys now can we? How do we become heroes with no bad guys around? So let’s just frame the visionary philanthropist Hitler and destroy all his humane work!… Arrogant morons…



Suddenly, I heard the sound of footsteps and saw Kim entering the den in a cute little nurse outfit with her playboy bunny hat. I immediately stood up (in more ways than I’d want, but she hardly noticed, damn you fake Dutch Viagra). She had come to give me my daily insulin injection to control my diabetes. I had learnt long ago that cheesy lines about how it was her sweetness that caused my diabetes wasn’t going to get us anywhere, so I dint even try this time. She unbuttoned my pants to reveal my round plumpy buttocks and administered the injection (So what?! It hurts less on the behind, don’t judge me). She then proceeded to laugh as usual, looking at my tramp stamp – the Swastika that I had got tattooed on my left buttock after a crazy night of partying back in college. Well, before you start shaking your head in dismal disapproval, I was a) drunk, b) in college. You can’t blame me.

After the encounter with Kim I started watching T.V. while she got busy preparing lunch. And that is when my blood started to boil. The son of a bitch Osama Bin Laden came on CNN , still gloating about his 9/11 escapade seven years ago. It was my freaking plan! I wanted to hijack planes and smash em into the ‘Staute of Liberty’ a lady whom I’ve always wanted to ‘bang’ and that stupid turbanator couldn’t even hit the planes on target after he stole the plans from me. That dude is so gay, I mean who ‘hits’ two ‘erect’ towers when there’s a perfectly beautiful lady (The Statue of Liberty) nearby…?!


The news and anything to do with the modern world just increases my blood pressure and so I try to avoid anything to do with it. That is one of the two reasons why I have made my refuge in this remote farmland, the other being Kim off course.

All this thinking was tiring so I went to the bathroom to take a little shower and trim my goatee. The goatee is all I have now, since Charlie Chaplin, the irritating funny man started to imitate my exotic little mustache. I should have patented it while I still had the chance.

Dripping water all over the place, I went outside to sunbathe a little on my hammock wearing Kim’s bunny hat. The hazy sun, the shimmering pond and the lush green grass made me think. All that’s left now is pondering; lamenting and cynical thinking that governs my once lustrous and ambitious life. Times change, so do we ..but I wait…wait in silence..biding my time…my time will come…I shall rise once more to rule this minisucle Earth…whence all shall be my minions, cowering below my might to obey my commands..I shall be the supreme master of the entire universe..mwahahhahahahaahaha ……but in the meantime…goddammit....theres chickens to feed, potatoes to peel, ducks, goats, cows and sheep…miles to go before I sleep…

Lets gas ‘em all up!

(a memoir of the bhopal gas tragedy)





Hello. I am Fatima Bee. Lets travel back in time, you and i.

It was on a husky, hazy evening 26 years ago that I was cooking. Making a tangy kadi gravy with some boiled brown rice, the best we could afford mind you, Khan saab, my father-in-law might not have many teeth left but he is still very particular about food. The thick gravy boiled furiously, while the fire from the stove crackled, egging the gravy on, just like a master would, his slave. The tangy aroma swept through the room enticing all that came in its path.


Saleem and Nooyi, my 7 year old twins were busy swimming in the pond with their father, my husband Noor Ji, who had just returned from a tiring day’s work of pottery with his cousins. The whole village seemed to be splashing and squishing with the buffaloes there in the pond. It was quite difficult to tell the adults from the kids and the kids from the animals, if you ask me.

An uneventful dinner was followed by an even more uneventful night. Or so it seemed at the time…

Tucking the twins in and giving Khan saab a glass of hot milk I went back to my room and snuggled cozily next to my husband. Exhausted with the day’s activities we immediately dozed off, refraining to indulge into any more of our own.

The best part about dreams is that they seem real. I flew on through the mountains sniffing the aroma coming up from the boiling hot river of thick kadi gravy. “where are the brownnn riceeee” echoed one of the buffaloes in khan saab’s voice. Hurrying up, a little scared of being yelled at I swirled the river of gravy around faster and faster. It all seemed normal, the river, the buffalo , the gravy.

Yet my eyes started to water. There was a certain flavor of hot mirchi coming in through the gravy. I hope I haven’t put in too much or Khan saab would get angry, I thought. At first it seemed minuscule enough to be ignored but it soon gained volume and became unbearable. I clenched my throat as the mirchi seemed to have formed a coating inside me, making me vomit and scream unbearably. Horror descended the valley as the peaceful scenery soon turned into one that of pain and suffering.
The buffalo was running around madly while the river had transformed into a huge tide that was sweeping everything in its path. A thick mist of the mirchi was engulfing everything. I staggered on trying to see through the mist but everything started to shake violently. Just when it seemed like I could take no more of it ….I woke up.


The whole village was buzzing with excitement. Noor ji was shaking me and the kids awake. I was confused and sweating profusely. It seemed like I had woken up from the dream to land back into the dream itself. Anarchy reigned. Nobody knew what was happening. The only thing we could feel was the pain, the irritation and the unimaginable discomfort of the mirchi mist, a gas that had spread far and wide…
Begging for the dream to get over, I wept…


26 years later, the dream still refuses to get over.
I try to sleep it off, but it is quite difficult to sleep now. The gas has shriveled my intestines and glued my liver to them. It is very painful to lie down. I sleep sitting up, in an awkward position mostly. Noor ji and Kha Saab perished with the gas. Nooyi after her marriage gave birth to three disfigured premature fetuses, all of them died within a week of their birth. Saleem has ruptured lungs and often coughs up blood.

Anyways,I made some thick kadi gravy and brown rice again today. Here at jantar mantar, new delhi. We have been here for the past two months on the road protesting against the thick mirchi gas that screwed up all life back in our hometown of Bhopal. The government refuses to eat this tender meal with us. But you’re welcome to join..if you wish to....while we dream on ….

An amALGAm Of thEm aLL

my mind wanders off sometimes..
into the clear black starry sky..
and that is when i tend to think..
think, like the topmost layer..
of icy cool water on a teaspoon's brink..

drink with dreams,
wink at illusions,
think up reality,
blink at transition..

the stars,the lovely shimmering white stars..
they blink at me in morse code..
i always wonder what they try to say..
mysteries, fantasies,legends or a simple 'hey'?..

the pipers up there..
whether you like it or not..
sway to his symphonies we do..
whether u realize it or not..

the black blanket of the sky engulfs everything..
i like to watch and then breathe it..
the sleep , the dreams , the illusions , the reality..
and then an amalgam of them all..

IgnOraNce Is BLiss...

The ruby,waxy smoothness of a rose's petals is what u see..
The hazy illusions of shimmering crystals is what u feel..
If the aroma of freshly baked fluffy cup cakes-ur daily meal..
Crusty buttered sunrises..and the mirages of sunsets make u kneel..

When the majestic whines of gurgling purple wine..
Relaxes ur tongue like a snake's hiss..
You know ur in a fuzzy dream..
Where reality is ignorance and ignorance is bliss..


.

pAinteR In thE SkieS

...By this time it was 3'o' clock and we went to the Mussorie Rink society , a local skating rink.It seemed like a place that a lot of classic touch to it, complete with all the auburn aura and wooden charms that engulfed it, and would have housed many a great shows in its day but at present , had nothing more to offer other than broken floors , abandoned stages and careless gutka-chewing guards.

We payed 80 bucks each for the skating shoes and out of the seven of us only Dhairya and Aman knew their way around on wheels. The rest of us , well lets just say that our buttocks met the floor more often than our 'skating' feet.
Still it was a lot of fun with everyone running around, scrambling, swooping, scratching and falling down in that ancient abandoned rink.

After coming out of this place though, is when we realized what Mussorie was really all about. In the distance we saw black clouds encircling the hills and felt a cold breeze begin to flow. Slowly, it started drizzling and oh man , were we in store for something amazing...

Skipping potholes, dodging raindrops and inhaling the fresh minty breeze, we advanced through the market to come out into the open. At that moment i realized what God was all about-

It was like coming out of a dark stuffy tunnel on a train to embrace the freshness of the dew-soaken rail track amidst the many trees and the gorgeous sun. Right in front of us, we could see a clear view of the drenched valley and i guess whatever words i may use to describe that majestic scene, would just be a whisper to the epic song that it was -

Surrounded by hills , Dehradun lay quite by itself on the side of a neatly trimmed, terrace farmed hill. Half the sky was covered with mean, gray watery clouds that came pattering down on whatever lay below it, while the other half lay extremely quiet, humble almost as if terrified by the clouds' advent.

The little cute sun seemed to be buttering the crusty hills with its moist golden rays. Little cars went trudging by grumpily along the winding hilly roads, puffing slowly. And all around , just a little below , a faint layer of mist, fused with the air, covered the whole expanse.

It was an amalgam of ecstasy and peace unlike any we had ever experienced before.
Such experiences make you feel small , yet somehow they don't belittle you , they just make you think...

ThE SeXy itCh

What is the one thing that teenagers , people in their prime and senior citizens all worship alike? No I'm not talking about cricket. Its obviously SEX.wherever you might go, from the densest metropolitan jungles to the remotest ill equipped villages , through the centuries , we have witnessed the growth of a uni-directional obsession with sex.

Be it movies , music , photography , crime , advertising , gossip columns or ancient literature and art, a large percentage of everything seems to be pre-dominated by the raw animalistic practice of intermingling genitalia (perhaps in more sophisticated forms).

Don't you wonder why? Isn't sex just another biological process like respiration or digestion.Then whats all the fuss about?
According to Dr. Michael Roizen , the real sex organ is actually "the insula" a part of the left brain which is responsible for hormonal stimulation due to visual or physical aides which leads to sexual cravings.

However i feel it is simply deprivation at a very advanced level.Imagine you have an irritating itch behind your left ear and all you want to do is to reach for it with your hands and scratch it out of your system. But the only problem is that you cant, as itching is considered to be a taboo in this imaginative society of ours. There are certain places , 'itch-brothels' if you may where your needs of scratching will be satisfied for a fee but it is illegal and immoral to do so. Apart from this there are extracts about itching in books and depictions of people scratching each other crazy in art and literature all around.What's more , if you turn on your charm and start dating someone , then maybe at the end of a charade of dates , you might get lucky and get a temporary riddance of your itch.

Imagine being sentenced to ten years in jail if you are unable to control this craving of yours and scratch your ear behind someone else's without their consent, hence committing an 'itch-rape', if you may.

Wouldn't that cultivate a whole culture of itch-centric societal beings?As absurd as it may sound, It definitely would. many more such societies can be thought of based on thirst , hunger or any other physical deprivation.
coming out of this imaginative society we need to understand that we humans at the core-level basically crave for whatever's unavailable be it sex or scratching. this societal deprivation coupled with the crazy inflow of hormones keeps our minds directed towards sex for most part of the day.
Perhaps the realization that sexual intercourse is just another thing that we do might help us concentrate our forces towards more productive activities....

ThE NighT i FleW

(continued from - the day i flew (see below) )

If the morning flight enthralled me, the night one left me speechless.

It was nothing like the creature that had taken me to Pune, a day before. It seemed more mechanical, more digitalized, more human.

With perfect harmony between itself and the runaway, it slid into motion smoothly, and all of a sudden like a bullet launched itself into the air.

From a Godly height, the night sky makes one realize that we humans are not really as disastrous as we are made out to be. Down below, in perfect symmetry, millions and millions of shiny little pinpricks watched us fly, shimmering in synchronization all the while.

There were clear cut divisions between the vacuum-black and the futuristic light zones, as if an architect had just designed the view for my eyes.

There was no sense of the raw, animalistic feeling attached to the flight which had been so prominent during the day. On the contrary, the night was completely governed by a pride at being human.

The lights of the plane were switched off, as we left the city, making us realize how black, black really could be. Completely plunged into darkness, with only the engine's humming to guide us, I felt numb.

Looking out of the window i saw nothing but a single star, probably guiding us.

Rising a little further up, the sky seemed like a sandwich made of 2 huge slices of the blackest bread. Gobbled up between these slices was a thin layer of faintly visible cheese and salami, in the form of a line of clouds.

A silky voice then rang out from the microphone above my head, announcing the arrival of a tasty array of snacks. The night sky and the plane, all suddenly seemed frivolous and all i could think of was the hot chicken tikkas, the shammi kababs, the aloooo tikiiiiess and the hot coffeeee that i would soon be served....
.
.
.
.
.
Come the fuck on! hurry up!
.
.
.
Goddamnit, ten minutes have passed and the air hostess is still nowhere near my aisle! I'm gonnaa need some muthrfkin food quick or SOMEBODY'S GONNA GET HURT REAL BAD!

All right fine, that was stolen from Russell Peters, but u cant really expect a hungry and irritated writer to focus on originality!
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AARGHHH! BLASPHEMY!
MURDER!
FRAUD@!

I got stupid cold n dry paneer paranthas and even drier chicken sandwiches for a freaking 300 bucks! Fuck u INdiGo airlines!
what all i couldve had with 300 back on land!

A KFC 12 peice bucket with coke...
or a full days meal at Mc. D's..
or perhaps, a naiice double cheese burst cheese margehrita at dominoes...

I am Fucked up beyond all repair.

Cannot ..
Continue..
writing..

Need ..
to..
regain..
my..
honor..

must..
kill..
someone..

RaTs

It is simple..

Quite simple as that..

There’s no rainbow..

With tri-colored hats..



When goons with gusto..

Goof up with guns..

Who’s to blame?..

Just us multi-colored rats....

ThE maN Who ChangeD ChangE

he walked the earth,
he freed the moon,
he shaped himself his shadooooow....
he mourned change-it caused him pain,
yet he sends his 'suns' to gallows..


white peace he thot,
he did create,
till bouncing came his felloooows...
the starry knights, with dynamites,
they killed, they grilled the(reptile)dinooooos..


and cried and wept,
and moaned he did,
as black-ash filled his seasonnnns..
copper crusts and billowy dusts,
his tears filled the oceannnns..


bt stopped or dropped,
never did he,
as the road turned thornnnnyy,
for the sage-prophessed a.new.age.
whence all shall be hornnnnyyy...


a new age dawned,
with his new age spawn,
with stones n' sticks n' boooobiess..
with buildings duplex and raunchy sex,
who needs-stupid-reptile looooniess..


if change is changed,
what is change?
if change happens daillyyyyy..?
he changed change, he chained change,
realized, it happens constanttllyyyy...

CrAdLes aNd DrooBles

Cow milk, goat milk , buffalo milk , toned milk, full cream and what not . It is interesting how humans give their babies every possible form of milk other than their own , while all other animals prefer to keep matters to their own mammary glands.



Little blobs of meaningless bundles of energy we eventually grow up to become even more puzzled and confused about our existence than we initially were.


What are babies? Where do they come from? Okay lets try and keep this article PG-13 and not delve into the biological aspects of it, but babies are basically our young ones, the tender saplings from whom we bloom into trees, shrubs, pitcher plants, medicinal herbs and what not.

Those big puppy eyes, that cute little smile, that shiny face.They’ve always scared the living daylights out of me. Kids are always upto something!! Watch one episode of ‘Rugrats’ or ‘Kids next Door’ and you’ll be convinced that babies are actually aliens from outer space out her to annihilate our entire race or perhaps eat us for thanksgiving on their home planet.

Even that is nothing compared to what the movie ‘Orphan’ would inflict on your mind once you get around to watch it. The movie very eerily shows a young girl being adopted by a childless couple,who later realize that that girl was actually a 40 year old seasoned serial killer whose growth had been stunted as a child . She had been pretending to be a little girl just to get into the house and while the parents would go to work she’d be busy killing people all around.

Freaky eh?. Now that’s certainly going to make you think twice the next time u see your nephew or niece looking at you suspiciously with that toy knife in their hands..


Delving a little into metaphysics, what if this life we live is the afterlife itself and our mothers wombs are actually tombs? Okay lets slow down a little.

What if we live a life , a very different life from this one and upon culmination of that life , we enter our tombs i.e. our mother’s wombs from which after nine months of exile we are reborn into this present world i.e. the afterlife that I speak of (which we consider to be life not afterlife offcourse), only to die again and enter some other form of tomb and then live another form of life …

Too speculative, confusing and wacky eh? Lets forget about that then. Lets talk a little about the things that we do know of but choose to ignore.

According to studies, a person is most creative the moment he’s born and then gradually his creativity depreciates. A popular Science journal once conducted a survey at many schools in this regard, where they drew a simple black circle on a large drawing sheet and asked kids of various age groups what it was. While kids in their late teens mockingly wondered what the big deal about a stupid black dot was, the answers got far more interesting as they went onto lower classes.

One kindergartener thought it was a picture of his pet cat while another wondered what his aunt Rosy’s head was doing on a drawing paper. The answers kept on getting wackier from globular alien monsters to black stars to thumbprints to deformed teddy bears , electric guitars and what not.

Bewildered by the findings of this study, I myself tried it at home. While my parents simply told me off for waving a stupid black dot in their face and reprimanded me for not doing something worthwhile with my life , my 3 year old niece on the contrary was baffled at how I had somehow managed to turn an apple black and stuff it onto a drawing sheet.

Children are no doubt the acme of creative skills and out of the box thinking. They’re obviously mocked at for being too immature and cocky but think for a moment, isn’t this kind of innovation and creativity just what we need in today’s world?

What if we could tap into this huge pool of creative skills and find solutions to so many of the modern day issues?
I know you must be thinking how would little kids who believe in Santa Claus and the Easter bunny help solve magnanimous issues like global warming?

Well its not the kids themselves but we who need to change. As we grow up we conform ourselves to social norms, tailoring our thinking and adhering to social conventions and that is where we go wrong. By carving ourselves to fit into already available niches we sadly become just like our predecessors and thus the problems stay as it is …


Largely we are of a single mindset with offcourse a few exceptions in the form of the Newtons and the Einsteins of our world who dare to let the child in them imagine and aren’t afraid to innovate.

Why do we feel so scared to go out and slide in the mud when it rains?

Why is so tough to laugh stupidly for no apparent reason at all?

Why is it so embarrassing to create make belief farts from our underarms?

Why do we hesitate to go out in the snow and make obese big breasted snowmen?

Truth is as time goes by we turn into cynical obnoxious mechanical morons who feel threatened with the slightest changes in their routines or thinking. What we need to do is to let go. Seriously let the child in you breathe free. Don’t be scared . The only thing you will loose is your honkiness and on the bright side you’d gain creativity , innovation and peace of mind.

sOaP Or ShaMpOO ?

That is exactly the first thing that comes to my mind the moment i see a bright glare radiating from a shiny bald head in the distance. Do bald people use shampoo or soap to wash their heads? I mean we are supposed to use shampoo on our hair just like the sexy actresses in all those TV commercials command us to do, but bald people don't really have any hair so shouldn't they use normal body soap even on their heads? i often wonder...


Baldness in all its extremities has always puzzled me.
On one side we have our Hindu sadhus and Sanyasis whose long strands of tresses and curls (which could probably even give Rapunzel a run for her money) seem to be a prerequisite for attaining Moksha or salvation.

However if we look a little towards the east on the other hand , we see Buddhist monks sporting the 'hot David Beckam bald look ' in all its serenity and tranquility claiming it to make them feel lighter and closer to god.
who do we believe?

Everyday we see advertisements such as
"BLAH BLAH ‘S HOMEOPATHY CLINIC : remedial solutions to hair loss , homeopathy has the answer"… and just below it you might see the same institution advertising bout its "completely painless body hair removal plan through BLAH BLAH LASIK THERAPY".

This leaves me even more perplexed. We pay to remove hair on one body part and pay even more to grow it back somewhere else?
Repositioning eh?..

Whoever decided that the social convention should be to sport hair on our heads and to trim it away if it dares to grow anywhere else?
What if chest hair was the socially accepted norm and not the present trend of head hair?
Imagine seeing people roaming around on the streets in front less shirts showing off their center-parted , spiked , mushroomed , mohawked and what not'd chest hair..
wow..even the mental image is freakish.



O GANJU PATEL ,
TERI KHOPDI MEIN TEL..

Haven't we all as kids used this ageless pun to tease bald people?
But it doesnt make any sense! Why would a bald person use hair oil?
that'd be like someone sprinkling the roads with water and manure hoping for trees to grow out of them..

Dont misjudge me, I am not out there propagating a ‘bald holocaust’ of some sort..quite the contrary in fact.
i believe baldness has a lot of positive aspects too. Fine , you might not be able to head bang to your favorite adrenaline pumping stoner rock songs , but if you wish to damage someone irreparably, head-butt's are the way to go..( courtesy - zinedine zidane)

Coming over to the bald and the beautiful section -

1) TOUGH GUY LOOK - bald men naturally get an unprecedented tough guy look.
(om puri , raghu ,vin diesel, stone cold steve austin )

2) SEXY - Heck, bald is even the new sexy these days
(Britney spears , lisa rae , david beckam , demi moore)

3) SPORTS – More than 3 quarters of the whole N.B.A fraternity is black..i mean bald :p

4)ENTERTAINMENT- And how can we forget our lovely,idiotic,beer drinking , donut stuffing homer simpson who is the epitome of all that is shiny and bald.

Phew! that is a lot of bald people.Perhaps if we all decided to go bald like them , the multi million dollar hair-care industry would go out of business. We wouldn't want that now would we?

So go ahead pamper yourself, get a haircut ,good shampoo,curls , spikes,oils ,hairsprays and the likes and enjoy your lovely silky auburn,blond ,black or red hair and if by chance god forbid , some years down the line you start loosing them , you do know that there's always room for more on the ever shiny ,ever glowing bald and the beautiful parade..

ThE DaY i FleW

Seated there, drenched in anticipation, I waited with baited breath on my seat - 22F, looking over the window for some signs of movement. But for the next ten minutes , none came except for the silky voices of the flight attendants, expressing their supposed euphoria at having us on board their plane.


Slowly and steadily, much more like a huge reptile than a bird, the plane started to shudder, a giant waking up from a long stretch of hibernation.For the next 15 minutes or so, it moved a around a bit, sensing, sniffing its territory from apparent dangers from other creatures in the form of rival airlines, gently stretching its wings all the while.


After being assured that no such dangers prevailed, us bugs were asked to tighten our hold onto the creature as it started to roar, rearing to go into battle.The engines powered on and i could literally feel the horse power cursing through my veins, igniting me. With a sudden jerk it moved forward with full blast, making us hold on for dear life.

I could almost taste my Adam's apple as the creature started to transcend angularly, its wings flailing outside my window.
It seemed as if it was gulping the fresh air, the wind acting like cold water, removing the after effects of a long slumber.

Finally it seemed to have reached familiar territory, stabilizing its flight cutting smoothly through the clouds like an eel in water. Gliding, sailing, playing with wind around, it seemed to have suddenly lost its scary demeanor.


Coming back to reality, i opened my eyes and looked through the window and was taken aback by the beautiful sky that awaited me.
no wonder birds are so tasty, i mean who wouldn't be if they could experience such peace and beauty for a major part of the day.

The sky seemed even better than what they show in the movies. There were various layers to it, each a slightly different shade of sparkling blue. Bright indigo blended into sparkling violet, violet into moist turquoise, the turquoise into sky blue. All seemed to fuse perfectly into the other, shining sharply, with the help of small mirror like clouds of various shape and sizes flying like magical carpets.


The sun seemed to be stimulating the beauty further by gently simmering the whole minty cool expanse dressing it with a moist golden glow.

Tearing my eyes away from the window portal i looked at the interesting fauna around me. A couple of kids were jumping up and down, mad with glee while their parents tried to calm them down, to no avail. The cello fin-wrapped air hostesses kept running to and fro fetching people whatever they needed, while a group of very stern looking Japanese businessmen discussed some seemingly serious business matter in an even more serious tone.

A couple of love birds, perhaps on their honeymoon, snuggled in one corner, oblivious of the bird or its flight, content with their warm confetti filled love bonds.

I snorted, looking to the window again, where the cloud army had increased its numbers many times. They seemed to be like white cotton candy trees growing on a vast expanse of some blue oceanic farm.

Once in a while we came across an evil looking black cloud. It seemed like a flat layer of oil-slick in the ocean. How the clear ocean water, on being evaporated, manages to turn priestly white clouds black, continues to baffle me. Perhaps it is just like what happens back on land, how saintly people tend to turn vile when soaked with power and fame.

One thing that felt weird though was the speed with which our creature was carrying us. It seemed to be crawling through the sky rather than flying through it, or so the clouds all around made it seem.

Escalating further, we actually caught a glimpse of the moon! at 9:30 in the freaking morning! This is was something really strange as i had no previous knowledge of heavenly bodies suffering from jet lags.

Slowly it started swooping lower and lower, as if encircling its prey, preparing to land. it seemed to dive right into the clouds. it felt like we were being pushed into huge pristine puffs of hookah smoke.
the twangs and pangs felt in one's stomach during landing are quite similar to that felt while on a swing.

The sudden jerk, the gush of wind, the whoosh of speed, the bird perched its feet on the ground in an almost orgasmic manner and finally came to a stop, lazily moving around, readying its bed for another quite sleep before it would be asked to fly again.