An Year Is Up !

Posted: July 21, 2008 in Uncategorized
Happy B'day !!

Yay, I turn one !!


MA Story Writer

Posted: June 26, 2008 in Creative

We had a story writing competition today at MA and we were to use as many words from a set of 80 provided. Here goes a reprint of our (Simon & I) version. the words given and used are highlighted.


A Walk By Memory Lane

It had been 2 days, he was lying there, and he couldn’t feel his legs anymore crushed under the weight of a heavy iron gate. He wasn’t sure anymore if he was alive. A slight twinge confirmed he was. A shriek emanated from his swollen lips but stopped halfway coz’ what he saw next was beyond the most horrible nightmares of his. People were reduced to dirtbags, lying cluttered one over another, everywhere. There was no sign of life whatsoever. The whole city had turned into a big pile of debris. He tried to recall what had happened, and more importantly, who he was. But all he could remember was some people shouting “It’s a meteor. We are all gonna die”. Some said “Alien Attack! Run for your lives”. The voices echoed in his ears.

“Am I the only one left?” he was wondering as he limped his way through the carcass when he stumbled across a mud stained notebook. It was a diary. he flipped open the first page. He read it loud, as if to address an imaginary audience.


I arrived today via Kingfisher airlines, and made a check in at Ginger where I had a strawberry shake and watched the movie Dosti. At night, I went to a bar, with my colleague. It was his birthday, so we ordered a chocolate cake and celebrated it with Signature whisky, amid a rocking environment.


Next morning, I started with reading a review of Titanic and an offer on its booking. Later I watched it too.


Today was my first day at MA. After a fruitful weekend, my heart was pounding as I took a cab to office, and had my first touch of Bangalore’s traffic. After a security check, we marched into the office premises. I took a lift to reach cafeteria and there our training began. We were given presentations on Architecture, Engines, Routing, Dispatch, Automation by their respective team managers. We were also told about a team outing and Town Hall 2008 meeting, and advised to update it in calendar. They also introduced us to Thumbs Up and Josh clubs. Then we were separated into 2 batches, Java and C++. I was given a desktop while some others got a shiny laptop. I checked my first E-mail in my inbox. Then I was assigned my 1st Cr: CR N0. 78627 raised in Clear case regarding Globalization. The CR details had bug number, build details and setup environment. I checked out the latest code. It involved LTL shipment with less than 5 line items, and origin as Thailand, failing in import driver rates scenario. I started my server and logged into the console workspace. Later, I filled non billable hours in netsteps, and sent my status report as an attachment to the manager, after he sent me a template report. It was a lovely day.


As he reached the end of the page, a drop trickled down his moist eyes and washed off the dirt settling on the rest of the name. Mohit. “Yes. This is me. This is my writing. This is my diary. These are my words. I am Mohit”, he exclaimed to himself. “I am Mohit”, he shouted with utmost fervor. Instantly, he felt a wave of pain flowing ferociously through his veins. “I am Mohit”, he murmered in a dying tone as he toppled down. And then, there was stillness again, but for the sound of the pages of the diary, unfurling intermittently owing to the strong careless wind.


And now that I am getting time to read it, its funny how oddly we have managed to tuck the words somehow into the gaps. But then, we had jus’ over 30 minutes. So I guess, that settles it.

Jus’ Talkin’

Posted: June 2, 2008 in Creative

I: “Your life is a dead sea, dude ! No variety, jus’ plain salt. That’s what it is. An absolute bore. Did U hear me? An absolute bore”

I*: “No way buddy ! U r mistaken. I do all the stuff people could only dream of. I wake up when my heart permits, not my alarm clock. I go to work, and read blogs. I chat with my friends. And then after a heavy lunch, and an even heavier sleep in the office’s dorm, I read some more blogs and chat some more. Meanwhile, as a gesture of respect for the payslip I get at every month’s end, I spend few minutes on fixing some minor issues. Major issues can wait, u see, they deserve time. And that’s not it. I come home, play squash. I watch some TV and then I get absorbed in the mysteries of the “LOST” island. And, a few minutes spent in kitchen assisting Cook bhaiya only adds spice to the day. Now, u tell me, how is it boring? How could u not see the variety?”

I: (smiles)

I*: “What? Why don’t u speak now? Tell me, what part of my day is boring?”

I: “.. that U do it all exactly the same way, over n over, everyday. Everyday !”

PS: I & I* hold no resemblance to the author, however apparent it may seem. He is more than happy with whatever his routine is.

The Wait
— Mohit Jain

“He had waited 9 years, for today. The stained walls had been his abode, a shield from the obnoxious smelly world outside. His only companion was too absorbed weaving its net by the small window that opened to the same ghastly world, unaware of the solitude it was about to incur. His eyes were smeared red from the wrath he had accumulated inside, a volcano desperate to erupt. His sweaty palms were crushing the iron bars inside them. In 25 minutes, he would be a free man. The mere thought of Tulsi covered in blood, rejuvenated him. He felt a current pass through his veins, a current of celebration.

The revolver in his pocket was getting restless. He looked at her, one last time, he smiled to himself; all calm, hands folded, eyes closed, soughing a tone he woke up to every morning, when a kid. He thought to himself, her Krishna would not come to her rescue today, or for that matter, no one would.

The revolver hung still affixed at her forehead, no motion, no sound. The bullet waited impatiently, eager to know its destiny. He thought he saw fear in her eyes. But, he saw none. He hated her guts, then, 9 years ago, and now. But he was aware of the difference. The revolver had switched hands between then and now. And that comforted him. In 25 seconds, he would be a free man. He thought he heard footsteps, closing in, by every second. His eyes rolled back, agitated, scared, smeared red with fear, the revolver not still anymore. He knew well, it was now or never. The eyes flipped back, glaring at his prey. He thought he heard a shot. He was…”

Rashmi’s 6 year old daughter, pounced onto the remote, and switched to Channel 6. “It is POGO time, Mamma”, she said coyly, smiling. She smiled back at her, surfing through the newspaper, looking for the schedule of repeat telecast of “Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi”.


The Fall
— Mohit Jain

“Gawwwwd!”, she screamed her lungs out, as she plummeted down, deep down, wholly at the mercy of gravity. Her body was flying away from her, straight down. She could not stand the pain she felt on her back, the pain she felt in her mind. Her eyes were shut, too afraid to see the world from a perpetually falling gaze. She wasn’t sure if they would open ever again. She felt her heartbeat on her right palm, matching the pace of Michael Jackson’s steps. Something hit her on the side, her left hand twisted across her chest, writhing with pain. She let out another shriek, so loud, it echoed back to her. She would not survive today, she told herself.

She thought of Rahul, it was just few seconds ago she had seen him last, just before she was pushed through the blind ruthless valley. It was Sunday, and like every other Sunday, it was the day, Rahul and she would go on a long drive, chatter endlessly about the week’s errands, and go to some place fun. She wondered if this was her last long drive, if her last words had just popped out seconds ago, and if this was her last place of fun. Her legs did not carry her weight anymore. She hated Rahul. She hated gravity. And, she hated Newton, in first place. She prayed for her life, to no avail. She felt a sudden jerk pressing her down. In nanoseconds, she hit the bottom with brute force, skidding through the flat hard surface, and crashed straight into the blue, legs waving into the air.

“I am alive”, she cackled to herself, quivering with fear. She had survived the ordeal. She was happier, braver.

She felt a warm familiar pat on her wet back. It was Rahul. She pocketed her fingers into the comfort of his palm, and walked towards the Water Pendulum. “They call it the most scary water ride at WonderLa water park”, he said. She nodded, smiling. But she wasn’t scared anymore.


(I would publish 10 stories, 2 a piece. Your stories are invited, jus’ keep them short, within 500 words, and a mandate is a twist in the tail of the tale, however predictable and clichéd it might be.)

And I said,

Posted: April 16, 2008 in Creative

“An empty glass is still full of air.”

“Love is like magic, illogical and beautiful.”

“To wish is free, to be wished is priceless.”

“Love is like magic, almost everyone falls to it.”

“Strong winds can shake my skin, but not the dreams within.”

“Love is like magic, do it, know it. “

“The taste of success is best known by those who never get to taste it.”

“Love is like time, u never seem to have enough of either.”

“The game isn’t over until you have won.”

“Modesty is my middle name, and I choose not to use it!”

“I always believed in Lust at first site, my first site was desib***.com.”

“Life is not about moving on all the time. It is more about stopping at the right places and enjoying the view!”

Modesty is my middle name. And, I choose not to use it!

Ek premi ki daastan !

Posted: February 29, 2008 in Poetry, Romance
Tags: , ,

Let me put it plainly. This one took time aplenty, and I am hopeful I would improve. Afterall, I am new to writing in Hindi, although I started with “Jai Ho Babaji”, which I am unsure whether to post here or not, coz I am too afraid to be faced with Babaji’s rage.

Oh ! and by the way, it’s a hindi poem(Gosh ! I guess I leaked that out already), somewhat in a gazal format.

the seduction..
makhmali chehra reshmi julfein,
bebas nigaahein fisal hi jaati hai

dekhke unki kamuk adayein
aarozoo ruh ki machal hi jaati hai

the romance..
barso se sust padi thi jo sadak
unke ghar tak aajkal hi jaati hai

aur dekhke hum deewano ko sang
dhadkane sheher ki jal hi jaati hai

the realization..
soorat se dhokha kha baithe the
seerat aakhir badal hi jaati hai

jhuth ke parde lakh bhale ho,
sach ki kainchi chal hi jaati hai

the pain..
has dete hai mehfil mein hum,
par dil se aah nikal hi jaati hai

kuch pal maut to naseeb hai sabka
jaan hamari har pal hi jaati hai

the recovery..
chand kadam ladkhadati hain saanse
dheere dheere sambhal hi jaati hain

chot gehri ho jitni bhi chahe,
waqt ki lau se pighal hi jaati hai


Posted: January 29, 2008 in Poetry

After a huge hiatus, the reasons for which are unknown even to me, i am putting this down from the old box of mine. I wrote it on behalf of a friend, my best friend actually. Most people know him by name of God.

No one brought me on this earth.
No one would ever take me away.
Never did I take any birth.
Forever, albeit, I would stay.

Your every tear, my eyes let fall.
Your every smile adorns my lips.
My ears attend your every call.
Every arm, my arm grips.

My feet walk your every step.
My skin shades every soul.
Every life rests on my lap.
Every death rests in my soul.

No one stays from me, apart.
No one stays beyond my care.
I live within every heart.
Yet you seek me everywhere.

My strength fights your every strife.
My smell loads your every breath.
Within you, I live your life.
Within you, I die your death.