Archive for August, 2007

Life In Closet

Posted: August 16, 2007 in Poetry

This was my first attempt at poetry and so far, I rate it as my best. I hope i could parallel it someday. The idea struck me last year while i took a shower and materialized into a poem, the very morning, 2 hours later, in a boring lecture session. It continues to inspire me to write more…

Living naked for years, bubbling, that was me
Close to the Mother Nature and breathing free

No suffocations of worldly sins, of worldly smell
One piece that was me, bereft of any outer shell
Tuned to GOD’s own laws, nothing did I make
All as it always were, not a glint of fake
Pious as HIS own culture, life seemed to glee
Close to the Mother Nature and breathing free

Living naked for years, I felt so shy
Jus’ above, the winds of change started to fly

The senses struck, the mind clicked, ‘long came the pride
The shames of naivety, perhaps was the time to hide
I stood. I fell. Again. Again I fumbled
A solitary soul was I, all confused, all jumbled
Failure came strolling along with every try
Jus’ above, the winds of change started to fly

Living naked for years, I felt so bound
A cover for my miserable soul soon I found

I lied. I stole. I killed. And up and higher
A gust of heat, I smelled, then came HIS fire
I ran and ran. Faster. I thought myself brave
A fool that I was, I instead found the grave
Wrapped in its darkness, followed a life even worse
Living naked for years, no more seemed a curse..


VIJAYA– It’s Different!!!

Posted: August 10, 2007 in Creative

The cbse result website glared back at her from her pc screen. She had
never anticipated failing, never in her dreams. She thought of all who had
topped the exams. She still couldnt believe it. She had always been a topper. But this time she had
been apprehensive. Her papers werent dat gud. But everyone still expected her to have
broken all records. Family, Teachers, School, District, City et al. She desperately wished she
somehow got better grades. They wished she
could meet them and share her feelings. But she never did. Her divorced parents wished hopelessly she
would forgive their negligience all the way. She could never tell if she
would, one day. She
was angry with them. As she thought of them, she
felt a drop trickle down her eye. She couldn’t take it any more. And then, she
heard the school principal announce the topper’s name, she
thought of her name, and
wondered at the strange coincidence.VIJAYA.
as the school principal spoke, she reflected back at her life in one moment. She..

Incase, u r still wondering wat happened to Vijaya afterwords, u dint really see the difference.
Read it again, this time, read this colored lines first and then go back to this colored ones.

PS: I promise i m never goin to write such stuff again. It took such a heavy toll on me, i cant explain, and not jus’ timewise.

Those 4 years..

Posted: August 10, 2007 in Humour, Poetry
Tags: ,

A distance chart may shout 1400 miles on my face but i simply laugh at its ignorance. Statistics lie nonetheless, coz i am still there, with my heart and soul, the place i spent my four years at: IIT Roorkee.

  Four years, i stayed there, wid u ..
Rest of my life, u stay here, wid me.. !!
  My Alma mater..

Of birthday bumps and lavish bashes
Of gaming freaks and GPA crashes
Of mess bunks and nesci treats
Of crowded rooms and empty streets
Of changing seasons and changing fashions
Of dilly-dallying and bakar sessions
Of tutorial submissions and boring lectures
Of wild daru parties and leg fractures
Of day dreaming and fun nightouts
Of examination blues and last minute doubts
Of festive celebrations and club hours
Of skyping, messengers and orkut stars

And so much more i wish to tell..
My last 4 years in a nutshell..

PS: For a graphical representation of above, check this link..

Night Of Terror

Posted: August 6, 2007 in Humour, Mystery
Tags: , , ,

I woke up with a startle. My petty plastic wrist watch exuded green radium glow that was struggling to cover up the dark. Jus’ 2 hours back, I had turned 11 yrs and 1 day. Exhausted from last night’s birthday bash, I had taken to bed a little early than usual, cheerily absorbed in memories of how delicious the pineapple cake was; how many(the number did matter at that time) my gifts were; how colorful the balloons looked imprinting my name on the wall; how happy my parents were, my friends were, I were. Lost in my innocent thoughts, i had slumbered soon after.

It couldn’t be a thief. I knew someone had crawled over my legs. I had felt his weight thawing onto my weak small legs. My heart began pumping heavily. The open window doors hissed a screech to the antics of the strong wind outside sending a chill down my spine. The window had been left open, by mistake. Big mistake. It was too dark to see anything except…

I saw a gory black human shadow move behind the door. I wanted to shout but my voice stumbled inside my throat. I wanted to run but i was too frozen to move a fingernail. My blanket was overwhelmed by the obnoxious smell of my sweat, it had never tasted before. It had been a few minutes. They seemed like hours, though. I was still shivering, still frozen, still still. And, shockingly, so was he. The figure hadn’t moved an inch since then except for a slight fling here and there, behind the door itself.

Who is he? Why is he here? Why is he not moving? Could it be a ghost?

The questions bombarded my tiny brain. The last one struck again. Could it be a ghost? I heard Yes from somewhere within. I fretted at the thought. The blanket was soaking now. I closed my eyes. I prayed. I covered my face. I prayed. I opened my eyes. I prayed. The night went on with intermittent interruptions by the noisy deranged January wind, inattentive of my acute horror.

Like every morning, “8 a.m.” triggered the rhythmic pulsations of my radium watch, scorching my every single peacefully resting bone. People aptly call it an alarm. It, indeed, does alarm me. This morning it seemed like a saviour. I pounced out of my bed and apprehensively, flipped open the gate slowly and slightly. Dad’s overcoat flung across my face from behind the door where it had enjoyed its night of terror. I stood dumbfounded as I heard the maid shouting from the kitchen.

“Bibiji, billi saara dhoodh pi gayi kal raat. !! “
(“Ma’m, the cat drank all d milk. !!”)

A smile flashed across my unbrushed teeth.

A 6 Word Story

Posted: August 5, 2007 in Creative

Hemingway once wrote a story in just six words (“For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”) and is said to have called it his best work.
I wrote one too..

Different Wars, Different Beginnings, Similar Ends..!!


Posted: August 1, 2007 in Poetry, Romance
Tags: , ,

I ain’t the real poet. My heart is…
I jus’ scribble it down..


There ain’t any beginning to you….


All the things that move ‘n’ sway
Would come to halt in mid state
The breeze, the seas, the melancholies would also stay
For your magical touch, to heal their fate ..

Give, a moment to cherish
I only yearn for your presence
And all my pain would perish
Jus’ by the kiss of your glance ..

Your smile enchants the blooming flowers
An oasis enough to quench desert’s thirst
Your voice smells of serene showers
And sunrays battle to touch you first ..

Daisies dance to your song
Stars fade out to your glow
A spell of magic you bring along
Make beats go fast n time go slow ..

There ain’t any end to you….