World at odds (WAO)

I am thinking, what I shall write on the eve of my return to WAO. I have been keeping away from WAO now for a long time.

I think I can start by writing about the tricky world of humans.

Yes, I am a human like you, but I do not want to be one. I have understood the human characteristics to the finest of details which perturb me a lot.

Humans are greedy but also kind and caring.

Humans are cruel but also loving and compassionate.

That’s what animals also do? I would have written a running commentary to justify the underlying philosophy of human to be self centric and egoist. But that will be speaking on behalf of Ayn.

Coming back to the topic of being human. I have seen learned men debating about how human should act, how should they behave, what is morally right and wrong, but no one is interested to tell human is a defected piece in itself.

Human is something which the Professor tells to be a cube, but in appearance it looks like a cone and it theory it is a solid ball.

Some time I also get convinced by the theory of it being controlled by the extra terrestrial. Even if you keep 2 boys in a confinement from birth, expose them to same kind of knowledge and light, they end up being two different people. I have been highly influenced by the character of Ravana from Indian mythology. He was a learned Brahmin, revered across the land for his virtues and then one day in rage he ruined it all. I am sure that person knew in heart that it is not right but some good old factors made him do things, which have been proven wrong by most of the learned man.

Anyhow I have been the right kind of human on most occasions for last few years, the reason being I get tensed and feel nerves if I do not do things right.

I will keep rolling on more about the technology of humans…..take this to be a kick start….

Labels: Abusive best, Alcohol, alternative, drugs, Fiction/flights of fantasy, Generic/vyom, humour, Life, love, Manthan, panthaism, rebel, Revolution, world view

Chapter after Death

It was a sad expression, an expression he has worn on his face for the first time. Paki had grieved the most; he has been the one emulating him for most of his life. I had reached the funeral services five minutes ago, and was pleased to see so many familiar faces on the last journey of this man, we had known for all these years. We all have been guessing all these years, when it will happen, as the sign of the inevitable were in plenty. He knew his destiny or I shall say he has screwed his destiny all along. I was imagining it to be a big crowd, but rain has made it a small procession. Old blokes too has reservation, he should have meet the fire, rather than rest with others. Even in his death, he did not miss the chance to mock life; something he had contemplated all these years. His will has clearly stated his last wish; he wanted to be cremated like a Catholic, not like a Hindu which he had been from birth. He wanted to be cremated like a Pharo, I should say. His pit now was having his smoke pipe, his guitar and his favorite pairs of sneakers. He had planned for his other half of journey in advance. I had never made my mind to adore this person or hate him. He had been eccentric sometimes, philosophical on rest of the occasion and unpredictable most of the times. I was today attending the last rites of a man, whom we had known all these years by the name of Dhroh “the rebel”. He was not in the league of Che or created a cult like Kurt, but he had really touched us all in some way or the other.

I wanted to leave early, but Chika has hold my hand tight. He was standing in the last row and was the one of the few to know this man from his early days. He looked towards the big Deodar tree and I saw few faces from past. I had been given the hint; I cannot leave the town today. He has to be discussed and summarized for once and all. He does not have the right to haunt us, he has to disappear today with answers to all mysterious he has created in these years.

We were sitting in Rony’s bar or I shall say the “Haze”. Rony was the elder brother of Dhroh and had bought this bar 6 months back. He was the only person to knew him from birth. Rony was 7 year elder to him and I consider him to be real force all these years in helping Dhroh leave his live the way he wanted. Rony and Dhroh were born to an American father and an Indian mother, they grew up in Pensulvania. Their mother and father were renowned surgeons. Fate has tested the brothers too early in their life. They lost both of thy parents in a road accident and were forced to come to India to live with their maternal grandparents very next and closed relatives. If I remember correctly Dhorh was 15 when I fisrt met him in school and his brother starts taking care of his grandpa’s timber business. By the way Dhorh was a name given to him by us, his parents has named him Mukesh and by love they use to call him Mickey. Mukesh Andrew Patton was a strange name for an American; his brother was Rakesh Andrew Patton, another strange name by thy parents.

Let me come back to Rony. Rony was fellow in two contrast color, black or white. Dhroh has once told me, back in states his brother was very lively and free will, but he has never recovered after thy parent’s death. He seems to all of us a sensitive person with all the qualities to make a businessman. He used to help us financially all those years of growing up, not for the reason he had money but for the reason he can always take interest out of our services to him. He was one of the first people to understand Dhroh and was the person who had helped his brother lives his destiny.

We were sitting in Haze and had observed few differences to the last time we had seen this place. Few of the posters have been replaced by one of Dhroh and the music had been the mix of Dhorh’s like with sporadic feeds of his poem recital. I thought this to be a brother’s tribute but even I knew Dhorh was too good to be soul brother of all of us.

We were band of seven who had been part of his short life. Two people were missing, one I suppose was his love of life Kira and the other was Abdul. I had been informed Abdul will be late for the rendezvous. For me it will always be Abdul, one of the main reasons for losing Dhorh at such a fine age. The seven of us were like seven stages of life from Shakespeare’s poem. Other than me there was Paki, I had already introduced him briefly to be the chief mourner. Paki was my first cousin and it was due to me he had got close to Dhorh, I had left him a few years back but my young cousin has the audacity to follow him and choosing him over me, when one day it comes to decision. The third person of this group was Bounty. Bounty was a Bushranger, in the spirit of Ned Kelly. He being there was the greatest proof of Dhroh’s ever infectious personality. I heard they meet up somewhere in Nepal and last time they parted off finally was after two years in some place in Burma. Paki, Ned, me and Chika were sitting across the big room. I forgot to talk about Chika. He was my best friend from the very day I have understood the meaning of friendship. Chika has the gift of being friend and enemy with anyone with ease. I think I will talk about him and Dhroh in chronological order, but for now, It is enough to know, Dhorh has acknowledged him to be part of his soul.

Sonam was also in this room, but he was more comfortable in talking with Rony and were standing away from us. All that I knew about this Tibetian fellow was that once he was a hunter and then with Dhorh he had gone on the Karma spin. But lately I have heard him for being into drugs and all such stuff. Hard to believe, but this too can be true.

Two people were left to join the bunch of chosen ones. I think if Dhroh was ever hurted in his life this people were the one, who would be it. Ahmed was our one year senior to us in school. Our association with him has been a strange one. He was the best guitar player or any kind of musician in our college, till he was displayed by Dhroh, into oblivion. His relation with Dhorh was of hate and jealousy, but Dhroh has his own way of rating people. About Kira,I can only tell you that, she was born to love someone to ruin him. Somewhere even I feel pity for her, but somewhere I feel did her best for him. It is hard for me to relate the life of Dhroh without her involvement.

Coming back to the topic of contention, why we were invited to this place. It was Dhroh’s wish; he knew he can get us under one roof, only when he won’t be around. He was there, I saw Abdul standing next to a tall beautiful gal, wait I know this gal. She was Kira? But what she was doing with Ahmed. Chika pinched me and asked me not to stare like this. They joined us on the table and once all were settled, Rony and Sonam too joined in.

Rony took out 7 envelopes out of his pocked and placed them on table. Everyone was looking with apprehension, for what will be in these envelopes? Rony has few words to speak here, I thought. He told us “I know you all here today, coz you have loved this man like me. He was my brother and my only kin. You all were part of his planned journey. I had few things to share across with you guys, he had left behind. He made these 7 envelopes for you guys. I do not know the content of this envelope, but he assured me, it will solve the mystery of his journey, make sure to open them in chronological order. Take them with you and come back to this place tomorrow. I still remember the words he once said as this very place when Sam left us; you never come back to life from death, as things there are better. He will not come back, but something will live among us. Other thing which you all wanted to know, about his last few days, I will tell you guys for sure, but as requested by him, It cannot happen till tomorrow. He had a planned death, so we need to give this respect. I am highly obliged to see you all and will arrange for stay of all out of towners”. He was a man of few words; best way of answering him was by nodding and picking your envelope and leaves his inn. Ahmed and Kira were the first to rush out. The four of us had planned to hang out at Chika’s place and talk till wee. Sonam, I think had his own place and would be leaving on his own. Rony has some kind of relief on his face.

Chapter II (The number one)

We reached Chika’s hut, it was a modest place for a practicing Physician. The way he changed over all these years, has left me astonished. He has always been a man of Zero or One. There has been no other value in between. I think he was a big zero in school days and today he is a one, thanks to Dhroh’s influence. He just moved into the city, after working religiously in Tribal areas and even know he is working out of his stipulated time to nurse the under privileged. Way to go doc, you had made the difference to this world.

I bought two bottles of old monk to commiserate the loss of one young monk. No reason to drink rum, was the best reason to get drunk, I was made to think about it and I was still thinking. We were all there and somewhere restless to see what was inside our envelopes. Bounty made us all few Indian style pegs and we cheered for the memory of the first monk. We all opened our envelope to find one more envelope inside. On mine, it was written number one and similar numbers were on others envelope. Paki was infuriated for some strange reason, I got it, he thought it was our rating of friendship with him. I asked what his number is and he told 5. Chika replied his was 6 and Kelly had 4 on it. I found no relation to all this. It was by no means a rating; he has obtained a higher level of wisdom at young age. I told them “Rony has asked to keep things in chronology and we need to open our envelope in order and solve this mystery. I was number 1 and we have to find the other number and the content of those envelopes to make a link.

Paki was a restless young boy, just out of his teen; he took no time to open my envelope. He was dumb stuck. The paper in my envelope has something like this written on it

X² – 4X + 4 = 0                                            …………………………………..in progress

Labels: Alcohol, alternative, citric, drugs, Fiction/flights of fantasy, Generic/vyom, humour, Life, love, Manthan, panthaism, pills, Poetry, rebel, Revolution

I yesterday proclaimed, I cannot focus for long time. I have to regret this has been a weakness. I am not focused, has to do loads of things and end up doing nothing. I have been good in much stuff but have not mastered any one of them. I will stick to this blog, till technology come up with something more radical.

I was thinking how I will be writing the Story of Dusht. It will be asynchronous in nature. It will be based on chapters that may or may not have relation to the story.

Chapter I Melancholy Jack

It begins with the tragedy of Colossal.

I first met, Melancholy Jack, 8 years ago in a bar. He looked depressed and out of sorts. Only thing I have known about him was that, he was the best young computer nerd in the college. I was with my friends when Jack asked to join him. We were freshman and he was sophomore. How can we decline free drinks, but it was not easy, to gulp drinks at that table. Those were soaked in Jacks‘s tears. He was known as king of tragedy. I did not understand, what does it implied. Puma sitting left to me told, more the wit you have, more sensitive you get to the surroundings, this makes you react and even weep. Who cared at that moment, I was carving for more of Old monk. By grace of almighty, I stood those 3 rounds of utter tragedy, when all my friends required slipping to washroom. I had the refinement to accompany jack in his misery. I asked him “who are the gals that left him, which makes him cry?” I always suspected Engineering colleges have few gals of interest and added attention to give your sorrows. Jack was not crying for gal or grades but he told me it is in his nature to enjoy the sadness of the moment. I was too drunk to understand what he said. I showed courtesy for the next few rounds of drink, till we too get broke. I assume at moment of time, it was the most engaging and life changing discussion with a man of wit and humor that was so out of time and age. He told me he feel sad for everything that should have been right, if we all have cared. He feel sad, if the tree he had seen falls, he feel sad, if the river he has swam is tamed, he feel sad if the music he hears, is inspired ( cheated from others). Even I agreed to the last point. I asked him, do you like to be high? Nope, but yes, he felt this help him to be sad about the state of affairs. I too asked him “Why he is the best programmer in his batch, when he does not even care for study?” He said it was a myth created for him sleeping for the first half of college that he spends all night writing those magical scripts. He was even sad about the state of education, but then who is not is sad for education.

We called off that day, being carried away by our batch mates to our hostel, this resulted in more get to gathers, over a period of 3 years, where he was as sad he as ever as the last weekend and I was as obedient to understand, is that how things are bad around us. He got placed and left the campus, we kept in touch over mails for a year and so, until one day, I too get observed in the life of after years.

I meet him, 3 days ago in a city Pub by chance, he still has not changes, he was crying like old that was enough for me to recognize, it can be none other than Jack. Through my social network I had come to know, lately he working with some big MNC, who made some computer Chips, I think it was called Intel. He sticking to that place must be a sad place of epic proportions. I said Hello to Jack, and to my amusement he did not recognized me. He was deep into his sorrow. That is the strangest introduction I used, but that’s what I said “remembered me, I cried a bit with you, when he blew up a server up in college days.” I cried for him thinking he must be crying for getting into trouble, he was crying for affecting work of many more students. He had a grim smile on his face and stood up to give me that brotherly hug. I joined him and I was sure, now tears will follow in abundance. I asked him, do he feel as sad as ever, or has changed? He took out a note out of his pocket and gives it to me. I read it and was surprised; he must be crazy if he is feeling sad about this? He was asked to move to his Company’s HQ in US. Jack are you nuts, people will do anything to get such as opportunity. But guess, it was Jack, he need to be sad; he can’t survive without his melancholy thoughts.

He told me, he changed once in life when he has fallen in love with Kira, after graduating out. He forgot what sorrow was; he enjoyed the moments of life and looked forward to change this world by smiling at it. Then one day, someone took everything away from him. Kira moved to US and he was left alone again. Jack worked hard to be with her again and today he got his letter to fly to US. Jack my friend, sorrow is not the emotion of hour, you should be crying in happiness.

Jack told me, he now does not want to go. I was not getting his state of mind, but it can be affect of few extra ml of alcohol in your body. I asked like a religious friend “why Jack, do not you like to be happy and cheerful with someone for rest of your life?” Yes I want to be, but that is not possible, they have terminated Kira forever. I think that was enough for me to understand what has happened with my poor friend. I felt sorry for him; you first took a man love and then terminating it. It was really an hour of sorrow.

We had few more drinks, that evening and I tried best to cheer him as this sorrow of his was not something he has to live or die for. Kira had been in life of quiet a few people (my guess), few must have felt sad like him and few must have felt relieved. I loaded him off on a car, when I felt sorrow in my heart as well. How will be an artist feel, if the statue he carved for years is demolished in front of his eye. It was his project, he nurture it like his love, start to live a life to lose it all over again.

This is work of fiction and Chapter II will be dedicated to Fighter Ola ( He lived like a king, he died like an emperor).

 

“ Nothing saddens me more than, the poor state of mind”…..Jack

Labels: Alcohol, Blanks, Generic/vyom, humour, Life, Manthan

No one knows, how could I be the one who got to wining her heart!

It is season, where every body listen to the others heart!!

I do not mind! If its she who confess to me, for her heart!!

I do love her, but I never wanted to talk to her about my state of my heart!!

I can never see how it feels to, be with heart or with no heart!!

I do not mind, as I do not remember for her heart!!

I listen to my own mind, what has it has to do with her heart!!

Soon it will be December, too cold for some one to remember any heart!!

It is too cold, for any one to distinguish any ones heart !!

 

Labels: Blanks, Fiction/flights of fantasy, humour, Life, love, Manthan

It has been a long hiatus; I have been long away from WAO. I would like to write something about faith. So, have confidence in me and trust in each word I am going to pen down here tonight.

You all may have heard a lot from me about my dear friend Chika. He had a remarkable experience lately, which he shared across with me over the last few days resulting in me staying away from activities in WAO. He asked to have faith in him, only condition before he would share his experience. I supposed it was a stupid remark from him; I had always been his faithful ally in all him adventures, but may be this was a solo act.

Chika told me, he fell in love with a beautiful Aryan (I am sure he did not asked the gal from where she is) girl few months back. He also convinced the gal has also the same mutual feelings for him; thou they had talked once only, commuting in a local train (must have stepped on her toe or something). Well, I had always underestimated him, but he had been known as a lady killer Jung Bhadur in college days. He proved his theory by telling me that every day she boarded the same train as he did ( Co incidence never happen in such kind of love) and what else, the day Chika end up not boarding the 9 o clock local, he found her also in the 9:15 local. It was her intention to be along with him than a mere co incidence, as I would have thought.

I am man who has always beloved in the power of eyes; they end up always catching the truth and always not ending up hiding a lie. He described her eye as he was poet par excellence Sahir or Manzoor. I was impressed, he had never seen an eye as big this before other than that of his cow (excuse me, she really had big beautiful eye, I can confirm for the cow at least). The way she flickered her eye, it just reminded him of that study lamp that never come alive. (Even I did not get what does this meant, but it’s that thing called love).

I asked him, Chika yaar this is nothing extraordinary as per your standard, the crush for the Burka clad woman and that nun in school still holds above this. Chika come back to me with his legendary re say “ yaar, this time it is true love”. I would have laughed, if it had been someone else, but Chika’s innocent face said a lot.

It still had no elements of extraordinary, Chika revealed little more. The gal stop coming to station a fortnight ago( stalker I said). Chika told me he waited for her for few more days but no sign of her in any of the 24 locals plying on that route. ( Hmm, Chika bhai, had always had severe heart ache). Chika told me,he stopped coming to station after third day. It was a long day, when he end up seeing her face in a hindi newspaper at a barber shop. Now I am getting convinced something extra will be dished. The newspaper told about a gal being killed in a train accident. Hey guys, that was not all, the newspaper was an year old one.( I did asked Chika, but cannot be as forceful, till I broke the oath of faith). He reasoned me, that people die in train accident and he saw her, in the exact place where she died.

So Chika in love with a ghost (This can be rated extraordinary, but hold on people, loads of extra is still to be unleashed). He now started me telling his pursuit for her love. (I left Chika alone for 3 months and he ended up being nuts). He put into practice the technique he has learned from a Sanyasi in himalayas. He can hold on to his sleep till the point he is in trance to NEVER EVER. (He can sleep in 5 min into a science lecture, I wonder how many time he had been to NEVER EVER). No question asked, as the oath is silver. He was in NEVER EVER and saw her love being excluded in the parade of lovers happening there. Before he approach her, he confronted the organizer, why she not in the parade. The parade had legends from Heer Ranjha, Romeo Juliet, Rahul Tina & Anjali, Rohit and Dev and let me put short all kind of pair in love. Organizer did not allowed, stag entry. (Man, by now I had understood what this story is all about, you all have to wait).In few more minutes he has jeopardized the whole procession for not letting him or her love invited. He told me organizer was pissed at him for gate crashing in at this place and his gal was excluded as she did not have those tapping feet. That kind of insult and discrimination and that too in NEVER EVER, Chika was not going to give up. I asked him what about the gal. Chika has again given a sorry face. What else nothing is left in this story. Chika told me, his action took the centre stage and all started staring at him. This was enough for Rahul to slip from clutches of Tina and Anajali and impress my lass. The moment I turned she was too the part of parade and I was pushed back from NEVER EVER. Next Chika, found himself was sleeping and roaring in Deans class. Rest I know, he ate my head for a week with this absurd story. I had to trust him and you have to trust me.

So moral of the story is, If you plan to go to a disc always take your best pal with you, even he had no gal with him, ideally get him a nice lass for company, else he will make you realize it in some strange ways.

I am proud of you Chika, you never let me down, I may let you down sometime.

Friends will be friends till the very end…………………….Mercury

Labels: Fiction/flights of fantasy, Generic/vyom, humour, Life, rock

Professional life is commitment and hard work for people who really work and play for those who think and work i mean smart work. But even smart worker who think they are better than other ones who have less gray matter are not able to overpower their bosses…In day to day matter of life bosses seem to posses divine power of intervention anywhere..anytime..in virtually any matter of life..

If you are little studious type you may want to purchase few books to encounter boss problem..like “20 ways to tame your boss” or “Boss vs. Friendship”..if you are really pushed to wall and you are dare devil enough to terrify him to not to show his true color..then that is another thing..

But if left-right brain do too much of pressurized hard work then the genes of smart work become lazy because smartness require time to nurture itself…to think from new prospective….to observe..and experiment with existing method of working…to innovate alone…

Bosses posses magic with their power of recall. I mean weapon of push/pull…that’s why i call them push/pull managers.They push poor mortal till late night or sometimes to the early hours of morning and pull them on Saturday/Sunday…with all of their magnetic power…which they have developed over the years…Even in front of most innovative excuse their power produce desired results..

Is their any way out other than Entrepreneurship..Yes…their is …We need to wait till we are trained in the same technique till next gen of poor soldiers come…who start on corporate ladder with dream and determination to overpower any challenge..and see us above them with our magic…

Labels: humour, Life, world view

How can i forget that moment when i was going back from my hometown to Delhi to go further going down to the Oxford city of India. Trains were delayed due to the fogs in the  month of Jan. To catch my flight i had to leave that train and find some alternative to reach Palam airport on time. So i left Kisan expess at a the small station of Bahadurgarh near Rhotak.it was not much crowded early morning at 9 am. While i was rushing to find some alternative and picking all my luggage to get out at this small platform, an unforgettable strange thing happened.

One Sardarji just standing on the other side of the platform beside a railway tea stall under a small shed..eyes focused on the paper..like alone in this whole world..this platform seemed too small for his type. Don’t know from where a stray ugly looking,hairy,medium size dog of some unknown breed was running ignorant of his poor existence between humans..although tortured, fed and used by same humans. Just coming like a unguided missile towards sardarji and can you imagine he just jumped on sarderji…and out of sheer surprise..sardarji became aware about what was happening around him…aware about crude reality that ugly dog was on him….to take little bite of his flesh….

Widely followed ahinsa philosophy in this country suggests that attacking first is not a righteous trait of living in the egalitarian society…even you can take 3 attacks before deciding your strategy of revenge....or you may wish that this ugly thing would be punished in the next birth with same force and terror by some unknown superpower of universe which has created us to strike a true balance between the mortals..or…may be last thing which could have crossed your mind is if you have strength,courage enough to take teeth for teeth in this world itself without asking for any divine intervention…it seems due to perpetual attacks on northern region of country…nature taught this thing in better degree to them..

Dog would seem foolish now and must have cursed his luck to attack on such a unfateful day…things took another crazy turn….Sardarji was quick enough to escape the jump of dog…and with a lightening speed grabbed dog from his tail…it seemed like magic how he was able to manage things so quickly…with dog flying in air in circles and his little tail supporting whole of his body…dog seemed so surprised with his cute face…that even he was not able to bark…his red, long watery tongue was out of his mouth..like he was also enjoyin g his luck in the hands of the sardarji….bold sardarji…with his red angry face…big eyes…big turban seemed like Mahakal (God of Death) to the poor dog..at that moment it seemed anything was possible for him with that courage & boldness

And the next moment dog was flying in air…guess what the sardarji did next….he just left the tail of the dog after 3 full circles…and the dog was trying to catch the ground with his legs in the air..and when he landed on the ground…his previous lion like roar turned into a mere myew-myew of cat…without wasting a second…dog just vanished from the scene..Sardarji handled situation so dexterously like an experienced hand on such kind of things..

I wanted to congratulate him as a curious watcher..but another journey to the airport had already started on noisy,pollution friendly auto rickshaw..

Labels: Ankoen dekhe, humour, Nation