Friday, December 18, 2009

Jack and Jill on India TV :)

Here is how the new Indian TV news channel India TV (Angrezi)would report the Jack and Jill nursery rhyme. All names (except those of Jack and Jill), are fictitious.

Prashant - TV Anchor
Two persons have been injured in a freak climbing accident. Jack and his companion Jill had gone up a hill to fetch a pail of water when Jack fell down and broke his crown. Jill came tumbling after. Live from the hill, our reporter, Amrita Shah, who was first to reach this spot for breaking news takes up the story.

Amrita Shah
Thank you Prashant(huffing and puffing). Well, as you say, two persons - Jack and Jill - had gone up a hill to fetch a pail of water. Suddenly, Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after. Prashant.

Thank you Amrita. What do we know about the hill? are there any supernatural forces at work over there? is this the work of some heavenly forces? Is the world coming to an end?
[Headline appears at the foot of the TV screen: "" is our world coming to an end??"]

we dont know too much about the hill. Jack was going up the hill to fetch a pail of water when he fell down and broke his crown. Jill came tumbling after
[Headline appears at the foot of the TV screen: "hill breaks crown of pail-boy Jack"]

What news of Jack and Jill? Who were they? what was their work ? wat was their nationalities? were they pakistani? were they spies?

Prashant, it seems that Jack had gone up the hill to fetch a pail of water. We know nothing about the pail, or how heavy it was but it seems that Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after. I have here with me, an eyewitness to the accident, Mr Shahid Trivedi. Mr Shahid, tell us what you saw.

Shahid Trivedi
Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after.
[Headline appears at the foot of the TV screen: "Boy and girl tumble down hill. Water spilled"]

Jack and Jill. What do we know about them? Are they brother and sister? Are they married? Just what were they doing on the hill together?

Shahid Trivedi
Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail a water.

And what happened next?

Shahid Trivedi
Jack fell down and broke his crown

Go on.

Shahid Trivedi
And Jill came tumbling after.

Prashant, there you have it. Two people innocently going about their business to fetch a pail of water when one of them falls down, breaks his crown, and the other comes tumbling after. Back to you in the studio Prashant.
[Headline appears at the foot of the TV screen: "Water errand ends in tragedy"]

I have with me in the studio now, Professor Chandrashekar Belagare from the Indian Institute of Applied Hill Sciences. Professor: a hill; Jack; Jill; a pail of water. A tragedy waiting to happen? Where was the police? a total lapse of national security!!

Well that depends on the hill, the two persons, the object they were carrying and the conditions underfoot. Let us look at the evidence so far.
Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down
And broke his crown
And Jill came tumbling after.....

Clearly, one would suspect that if Jack’s fall was severe enough to break his crown then the surface of the hill must have been slippery or unstable. But I think we’re overlooking something quite fundamental here. Who was carrying the pail? Jack fell down and broke his crown and – this is the key – Jill came tumbling after. If Jack and Jill had been carrying the pail together, would they not have fallen at the same time? The fact that Jill came tumbling after suggests that Jack lost his footing first and perhaps knocked Jill over as he slipped.

Professor thank you very much. So there we have it, two persons – Jack and Jill – went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after. Later in the programme, Osama bin Laden captured in Afghanistan, President Bush says rent-boy menage-a-trois was "just a brief lapse of judgement", and Pakistan launches nuclear warheads against key Indian cities. But next up, join us after the break for a studio discussion about hills, boys and girls and whether water-fetching trips should be supervised.

We’ll be right back...

Sunday, August 30, 2009


We have moved the blog to wordpress all thanks to College Wifi.

Here you go:

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Wake Up - Hello, How Ya been?

I'm an old man now. I've seen some. I've seen more.
I'll see some, still.

Egad! This isn't about us seniors. This blog wasn't about/for us seniors!
It's for & about you guys!

Let's try this again.

Come together. Yes. Blog, once more.
A story or two. A sincere trickle of creativity. Of all that SAASC stands for, has stood for, MUST stand for. Begin the movement again. It'll be in full motion before you know it.

I'm bad at motivational speeches, so I'll let the passion do the rest.

Blog, kids, blog!

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Call for Submissions

Chandigarh Sahitya Akademi proposes to compile a selection of poems and short stories in English. Writers working or residing in Chandigarh may submit up to five poems (not exceeding 5 printed pages in all) and/or one short story along with a brief CV. Poems and stories should relate to the culture and milieu of Chandigarh. Submissions should be certified as original and unpublished. Deadline: 31st July 2009

Sunday, May 24, 2009

hey guys. i just found this's a friend's friend's blog...and it's nothing short of comic genius!
do take a look -- Royal Ramble

Thursday, April 30, 2009

First Shot

I was walking through just another college corridor when I eyed a particular piece of paper pasted on the wall. The information on the paper was interesting and I thought to myself - "Hey! Why don't I give this a shot?!"

And I did. I did give it a shot.

As I rushed towards the door of the classroom, I almost dropped my pen, twice and lost balance, once.

I got to the classroom and as I peeped inside after having arrived at the entrance, I was overwhelmed to see so many others, almost just like me, some nervous, some clueless, some busy in establishing acquaintance with the nearest female(or male). I walked up to an empty spot and found myself a place to sit. I looked around the classroom anxiously, waiting eagerly for it to begin and also for it to get over.

Then walked in a couple of people, and I bet I had seen them before, not anywhere particular, but definitely somewhere around in college; and these people were usually seen a lot, almost everywhere, but that's again besides the point. They handed out printed sheets of paper to everyone and the directions to begin were given. I had decided to give it a shot and that's exactly what I did. I looked at the paper once, twice and thought to myself, "Sahi hai! This is going to be easy - Lets do it!"

After having scribbled the last sentence into the sheets and after verifying my name, branch and Roll number on the first page I turned the paper in.

I waited for about three days to look at a list that didn't have my name on it. I had checked twice :)


I gave my first SAASC test in first year, didn't make it and gave it again the next year. I feel blessed to have been here.

Yesterday, I made, what possibly will be my last poster for SAASC and while I was doing so all the SAASC posters I've yet made flashed before my eyes (Really?)

Anyways, Thank You SAASC :)
Its been fun being around.

See you at the Quiz tomorrow.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

In search of....

It was dark, very dark. The cold wind blowing chilled me to the nerve. I was in a terrible predicament, for, it was freezing out there and I had nothing to cover myself up. I had started turning blue, partially because of the appalling surroundings but mostly because of cold. Though despondent, I was running, running in the sheer darkness in search of some shelter, something which could save me from the cold. I didn’t know where I was heading, for I could see nothing…..all I could do was feel…. running through the crooked path and into utter darkness, I felt something…it seemed warm. At once, I plunged in there. It was a bit cozy inside, but was not big enough to fit in the whole of me. Crouched, I stayed in there...Until I started to stifle. I had to get out of it…. I tried hard, pulled myself, twisted and turned...And finally, I was out. I had a palpable sense of relief, which for once, made me forget about the frost….I was more than content on being liberated….but I couldn’t stay there for long. It was growing colder. Searching for shelter I rammed into several things…it did hurt, but I had to take my lumps. By then I had become antipathetic to that place. A long toil left me bushed… I could run no more…not even take a stride but still, slowly, stealthily and furtively, I kept on treading…..and suddenly, I felt something…it was big..big enough to wrap the whole of me….I started looking for a place to get in…it was cumbersome and tedious, but I managed to get in there. Inside it was even more murky, but not precarious. I felt safe and secure. It was just the right place for me…. Alas! I had found my redeemer…. Alas! I had found the glove!!!

Monday, April 27, 2009

The Boy and his something special

Yeah, hey this is gagan....(stares at v-man! get it right this time :P )

This is the story of a boy and his something special.

The Boy made binoculars out of his hands and looked out of the window. The small window which had been chewed off at ends by the termites and was creaking along the hinges ready to fall off any second. His gentle young hands clasped into unruly circles trying to look far outside the house. He couldn’t see much but it hardly mattered. At his age, every bit of the world was fascinating. Every object brought zeal of exploration. For his parents, the boy was a nuisance since he poked his nose in everything they did and made their lives a living hell. They were obviously living the clich├ęd life of a married couple who had kids to deal with. And this was their boy. The curious kid whose curiosity was too much to be handled by outgrown adults.
He wanted to know why does the rainbow have so many colors and how does his shoes have laces and why cannot he watch television after nine in the night and why can’t he sleep in the soft pointy blades of green grass. So when he got kicked out of the house because he asked too many questions, he pouted and ran out into the lush green garden. The garden decorated with gladioli, sunflowers and aesthetic creepers provided with the shade of an adult mango tree. The enriched environment of the garden was able to turn the mood of many. For the cruelty of sunshine to the devastating effects of the tempests could not be felt in such beauty. Lying flat on the garden bed he looked up. He wondered where the stars go in the morning and how can they just run back to their positions in the night? He felt annoyed with himself and started to doubt his own conscience. Why does he want to know all the answers? Why can’t he live with all the things that are taught to him? Why does he keep asking those pestering questions? He felt the confidence of his own will being questioned.
He flipped onto one side and saw an outgrowth out of the concrete. The garden overflowed with the flora, the scent of the rarest of flowers, the wooden swing which pushed the wind across his face when the innocent boy ran up and down the grass to give himself a push and giggled instantaneously, as sensitively like a touch-me-not plant. Now everything was pushed to the backside. How could a flower come out of concrete? There were four slabs of concrete intermixing into each other and out of intersection sprang out a young outgrowth just like the boy, such a dare move just like his daunting questions.
He had never fed his thirsty flowers in the garden but he ran inside into the kitchen. Jumped as high he could, grabbed a rusty glass and poured in the rushing fresh water out of the tap. Then scampered back and sat close to the outgrowth. Slowly poured water onto the sides and grinned. He had no idea what it would do but he had seen his mom do that to the rest of the garden so he figured he might help this poor creature out of the concrete.
He watered the outgrowth every day. Not one day passed would he forget to pour the elixir. Outgrowth slowly rose higher and higher. And every time he saw it rise, it would give him more happiness in his life than anything else did. He seemed to fulfill the purpose. What was the purpose, nobody knows but there was a sense of satisfaction in his heart.
The boy had frustrated everybody in his purview. Even his friends thought of him as a fool, stupid enough to be talking about a shoot growing out on the other side of his garden.
As he was slowly straddling back to his home after stepping down from his yellow school bus, he saw something spectacular. He dropped his bag and ran towards it. Slid across it and smiled wide. Slowly moved around it and rubbed his cheek onto its smooth surface smelling the intoxicating aroma. It was gorgeous. It was completely red, not a speck of imperfection. It was a rose. Such a spectacle!
He had nurtured it. It was His rose. He didn’t want to trade it with anything in this world. It made him ecstatic and everyday he would play with it, tickling its slender stem and getting a rub back from its gentle green leaf. He could never imagine himself without the rose. His life felt accomplished. It felt like he was right somewhere. His honest innocence found a witness in its form.
And then one day, he came back home from school and ran to meet his flower. The exquisite rose. He bowed down close to the rose and then screamed out loud, “Aaaoow!!” He had streak of blood oozing out of his cheek. It hurted a lot and it made him cry. How could the rose do that to him? He could have never imagined a thorn coming out something so utterly splendid. It had cut into his cheek and scratched it out.
Like all his other questions, he could never know why was there a thorn in a rose?

Friday, April 24, 2009

There and Back

She looked left and right .Twice she looked away from the moth-eaten doors. Finally, she shook her head and turned that foot-long brass key into the lock. The rusted innards of the keyhole clanged mournfully, called to service after years of disuse .But the key turned, the lock clicked and churned and the crumbling red doors fell open. She shut them quickly behind her, lest the urge to step back pulled her away. They closed with a sickening thud and left her standing in an inky, black darkness. She ran her fingers along the cold, rugged wall that rubbed against her back. Twice she was pricked by sharp pieces of stone jutting out; thrice she disentangled her palm from the mangle of cobwebs. At last, her bruised and scratched hand found the pull down switch. She wondered why it had taken so long for her to find it. But then it had been a long time since…

A flickering, now-flashing-now-gone light shone from the dust covered hundred watt bulb. But what she saw in the dying light was enough to make her swoon .She shielded her eyes even against the dim glow. But she could see the room and its occupants, just as they had always been. Barring the curtain of cobwebs and the envelope of dust that seemed to lay siege over the entire room, it was just like it had always been. Just the way he’d kept it.

In the left stood the rickety, four-legged table, its deep mahogany now a dull sandy-brown. She ran a finger down the front leg and found the spot where she had once tried carving flowers into the hard wood. He had bought her a present every single day that week for her 'brilliance' and had even called on people from work ,especially to show them her piece of ‘art’.

To the right lay the four-poster bed,the only piece of sophistication that ever stood in this cell. It was still as majestic and regal as ever, even though it now lay bare, sans his favorite floral printed bed sheet, the only one they ever had. It had been a blank piece of cloth until she turned it into her canvas and lo and behold! Another masterpiece was created. Or at least, he had said it was.

She sat gingerly on one corner of the bed. She could swear she could hear him close by, saying in his typical raspy, panting but nonetheless excited tone “And this one’s my favorite, this blue one you painted….”. Towards the final days, he must have been confined to this very perch , for she could still see the where the contours of his frail body had pressed against the wispy mattress, the only one they ever had. The one he used to lay for her to lie against and dream on, while he graced his stony corner on the floor below.

The silence, the soullessness closed around. She tore herself from the bed and glided to the very back of the ten by ten feet vaulted room. It had to be here , it was all she had come back for, it was the only thing in this room that had any meaning left for her. And she found it: she knew it before she saw it , for even as the laughter in his eyes spilled out of the photograph, hot, choking tears gushed out from hers. She stood quietly in front of it. The roughly hewn frame, adorned with the intricate designs of a little hand ,was just the same. The little kid with one eye closed against the flashbulb ,was the looking just the same .And, the graying man with the frail countenance laughed on, looking over her. The same as it had always been.

Then she realized what was missing; why her ‘home ‘ was unknown to her at that moment. The objects that defined her one-time abode were still there, but the life had gone out of them. He had gone away.

Big P, her life, her benefactor, her mentor and her God. Or so he had been , until she stepped out. Until she travelled with her masterpieces to places far and wide. Until she grew increasingly ashamed of turning up at this ten by ten feet ‘den’ ,when swanky galleries beckoned her . Until she left the place for good(or worse now that she thought of it). The place where he had given her all he could. But she had not looked back, too eager to escape the stifling reality of her origins to more colorful haunts. But the place called her back, he called her back. Why she had come back today, she did not know. She only wished she had had heard the call sooner.

She wiped her face with her scratched palms, and looked up again with a quiet determination. In one fluid move, she took off the photograph from the hinge on the wall . She hugged it for dear life and pivoted away. She gave the room a fleeting glance, not stopping over anything for long enough for memories to flood back again. She left the light turned on and ran back to the moth-ridden doorway. As she ran down the crumbling steps, the wind blew over the house. It sounded like the contented moan of an old man.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009


Embers of a dying fire smouldered at the head of the cavern. The hot flashes of brilliant orange and fiery red provided for the bleak illumination. The cavern walls were pocked with fissures, and an adder lay coiled in a crevice. Had it been present somewhere else, the distinctive markings and the menacing forked tongue would have evoked a wild spasm of fear, but here it blended perfectly into the rest of the cave. Outside, the aspens rustled in the wind that carried with it the chill that comes naturally after caressing snow-capped peaks. The creatures of the night skittered around, making their nightly rounds, and the momentary glint of their lithe movements tore through the grim darkness. The silence was stifling which could make one gulp hard and the only feeling that arose in the benumbed mind was to hide oneself and be as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn't the fear of the  beasts or the darkness but of the unknown. A behemoth spirit encompassing in itself all its devices and rising above its victims; commanding complete submission. Suddenly, a violent shriek punctured the silence and obliterated it, which had a moment ago been so oppressive and overpowering. The source, a human figure... her head thrown back in defiance and lips curled derisively and this went in sharp contrast with her exquisite beauty and her emaciated, frail and bruised structure which could hardly support itself and was trembling all over; evidently exhausted by the effort. She was crouching in a corner and did not stay in the same position for long. She brought her chin close to her knees and pressed it hard against them. Her gimlet-eyed stare was fixed on something, but whether she was looking at it, past it, or right through it, it was difficult to tell. She wore a school uniform and her dress was frayed at the edges. It was very likely that she had come wandering off to the place and had lost her group. She moved her fingers over her forehead in an attempt to set her hair aside, they had been blocking her view. Her hair, disheveled and hung loose.She suddenly pulled herself together with a jolt and sat bolt upright. Something had caught her eye, and she strained to peer in that direction. Her eyes narrowed to slits, she looked hard and saw it again. A flash -- a beast dashing off in that direction. It was like a trigger and all the energy in her came back, concentrated. Grabbing a stone, she set forth in the direction, in pursuit of the beast. She summoned all her courage and willpower to fight off the nightmarish delusions and the mind-numbing atmosphere of the place, and sets forth on her quest. A strange new instinct told her that since it had dashed away from her, it probably meant her no harm and could instead lead her to an escape from the hellish cavern she found herself trapped in....

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

The Grasslands War

The lethal predators watch hungrily from their lay-by as their prey arrive, unaware of the impending danger. One foolhardy young soul from the herd notices the movement in the grasses and sets out to investigate. He draws closer...and closer...but then he suddenly realizes what he's walking into and bolts, raising the alarm. The predators have no choice but to show themselves in pursuit of their quarry. Their lithe bodies move swiftly and silently as they inexorably bear down with unerring precision on their fleeing target -- a young buffalo calf that has not been able to escape quick enough to safety. With one agile leap, the lioness takes the calf down with it into the water-hole and clamps down on its neck in the kiss of death, while the others skid in to join the feast. The calf thrashes around and fights back for all it is worth, but the overwhelming attack from all sides subdues it quickly. All it can do now is wait to die, bug-eyed, while the lioness does her deadly task.

Or so it seems. Because, suddenly, the predators have another problem on their paws. A huge mouth filled with jagged, serrated teeth lurches out of the water and grabs the calf's hindquarters and tries to drag it -- and the lions holding fast on to it -- into the murky depths. All of a sudden, we have a twisted tug of war where a pride of hungry lions does battle against two hungrier crocodiles...with a very much alive and kicking buffalo as the prize, while the rest of the herd watches in agitated helplessness as their newest member faces what seems to be certain death. After a protracted battle with much grunting and growling, the lions manage to win this one and yank the calf out of the water.

And then, another twist in the tale. Almost as if responding to some telepathic clarion call, the whole herd suddenly moves together as one huge juggernaut to free their youngest member. The hunters have become the hopelessly outnumbered hunted. The defiant lions have no choice but to leave their prey relatively unharmed and back off as the enraged buffalos storm the pride and threaten to crush them underfoot. Then again, defiance is not an option, as one unfortunate lion finds out -- he's still lingering near the calf when a huge male buffalo charges at full speed and very nearly skewers him on its horn and tosses him -- splash! -- into the water. Meanwhile, the object of this ordeal -- the little calf -- manages to find its feet and shakily rushes off into the safety of its herd. The two lions that remain are surrounded by angry half-ton beasts with lethal horns, but they still stand their ground, growling fiercely...until a cheeky fellow charges and scares them both into the water as well. The once majestic lions are reduced to a trio of disappointed, bedraggled, wet, not to mention hungry...cats, while the buffalos move off with the same leisurely pace that they arrived. Three brave warriors, however, stay back to chase the ex-predators off and eliminate any possibility of a second attempt at an attack.

Miracles do happen. As they say, the meek shall inherit the Earth. All hail the King Buffalo....

Sunday, April 19, 2009

A Tale of Victory

The 'night queen' has embraced the earth. Her veils of darkness are gradually placing themselves all around. The moon is up in the black sky with a few twinkling stars. The animals & plants- both young and old are becoming slaves of sleep. The leaves of the trees-yellow and green are withering as if wanting to slumber. There is silence all around, except for the noise of the breeze. All is still, except the acive movement going on under a seeming hump...made from wire mesh and leaves- a place of hiding. And then suddenly a "Boom!"..."Boom!"..."Boom!"...leading to a noisy chaos. In this chaos , from that place of hiding , six men in clothes with leafy print , wearing sturdy long black boots ; come out running with heavy pieces of old rusted guns...seemingly of the old british times. There starts a round of firing from these fully loaded canons. Silence persists.Then a "Boom!"..."Bang!"..."Boom!" and a round of firing ; again "Boom!"..."Boom!"..."Boom!" and five of the men are hit by a cluster or two of metallic shells...with blood flowing out of their open wounds , dripping down into the roots of the large trees as if paying their holy tributes. There stands up a person- a man in true sense with majestic 6 ft. body , his brown eyes filled with power of revenge..focussed and determined. His curlu hair scattered all over his forehead. The tears on his face are turning into expressions of anger. The badge on his chest reads Arjun Singh Rathode. His hands still lun with blood are forcefully holding the 2 ft fully loaded rusted canon. His feet moving forward to execute the maneuver. Then starts a round of firing from the lone canon and a "Boom!" and then firing...The entire troop of enemies fall dead on the other side.Silence persits again...The majestic 6 ft. body falls on the ground facing the still sky..his eyes twinkling..expressing his gratification on fulfillment of his duty...a smile on his lips , narrating the story of his victory.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Barack Obama Speech : "We all love this Country."

Friday, April 17, 2009

Cracking Fingers

Staying at home makes you wonder how lives are shaped out to be for us all in some way or the other. One wonders if they will stick themselves to the television, watching emotional soaps and more emotional news channels. Or will I wake up at 4 in the morning to check if the water has risen to the tank or not. Everyday is a worry and is a bliss at the same time. Fruit vendors and local servants are the guests of honour while we deal with bugs and hunger pains as our enemies. Loud music and market food are hated beyond the geriatric disorders. Keeping away from the intellect and waiting for the water to heat up.

Sometimes, they say you are nothing compared to what you are now when you see the world outside. But you live in the world inside and you see yourself as an entity occupying a certain amount of volume. If that volume were made empty, i.e. ceasing to exist. How much would a difference would it make ? Would memories matter, would thoughts matter ?

The way the hair looked or the stubble grew. The way the pimples bursted or the feet smelled. They are all but strings being pulled from a single ball of wool. Throw the ball out of the window and the rest shall trail.

A lot of nerves are tested in life and its hurdles.

Where do they go when you're at home ?

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

good bye.....

the thought of writing this struck me after a recent get together
good bye
i wouldnt like to say good bye
but i shall have to leave,i dont know why
i shall have to go to a new place
and start afresh at a new pace.
the days thai i have spent with you
are not far and few
there are even memories of the times
when you taught me nursery rhymes
there were times when i forgot my homework
and you saw me standing outside your brickwork
and you saw me play a trick or two
and the lessons the teacher made us do
i remember those monday morning blues
when i hadnt even polished my shoes
you saw me shocked when i heard of a test
there are so many moments to recall
but now i can look forward to more at all
for with your thoughts in hand
i m going to an unknown land
i shall remember how i used to be in school
i shall remeber you,my school.....

Sunday, April 12, 2009

The Debate : A Renegade Perspective

(begin serious tone)
(edit : Mayank's posted another review, and mayhaps this one contains the same points or even conflicting ones. I'm calling a spade a spade in mine - read and make what you have to out of it.)

I think that the club Secy Mr. Raina, Mayank has been more than diplomatic with his review/report.
I shall belabor the reader with a few things he didn't mention, though he promises to come out with a DOs and DON'Ts section, I'd rather say all of these things in my caustic tongue, because he just loves to love you all so much, and all that he says is sugary sweet.) which are these:

1. Beating Around the Bush Syndrome.
In Debate 1, there were 8 people in the fray. Only one of them (that's right, just one) came even remotely close to the true meaning of the topic. Thus the debate never occurred. It's a stark observation, but only 50% of the debate happened because none but one came close the topic.

2. Paper Reading Syndrome
It is humanly possible to prepare for a debate which has to happen in a few hours and not paper read. The teams in the debate had days, and paper reading was rampant. I could count the speakers who did not paper read (correction: read the paper 3-4 times only during the debate - look at the benchmark!) on four fingers of my right hand.

3. Vomit Factor
Empty Rhetoric = crappy debate.
A lot of teams fell prey to rhetoric either during the debate or during the questions. KP was out of control during the rebuttle. Kaura went berserk trying to steamroller the other team's arguments during his debate, losing perspective in empty rhetoric.

4. Redundancy
Most teams kept on elaborating upon the same points in their debates. They also kept asking the same questions over and over again in the rebuttle. Redundant answers were given.

5. Copy Pasting
Many people had copy-pasted their entire speeches from the net. Right from the ideas to the punctuation. This is plain wrong. The net is for research only.

6. Presentation
or rather, the lack of it. I shall not elaborate further - only that the participants were lackadaisical enough to not even bother to read each others' debates. This ruined the flow of the debate, and most of all made the rebuttle rounds pathetic and intolerable.

DOs and DO NOTs....Very General Lessons from the Saturday Debate...Review Part 2

I will not take names in this Article at all, unless absolutely necessary. I have been into public speaking for a long time now. If not practicing it directly for particular phase, at least related to it indirectly. For this reason more than anything else, I respect it and take great pride in it. There are few things that need to be understood about the art of debating. It is probably the most difficult and in more ways than one, the most coveted public speaking prize that we have at the level of college competition. People must understand, and this refers to the Saturday Debate, that decorum is an essential part of the proceedings. By this I do not mean that there shouldn't be argument. A debate would be a needless activity if didn't actually debate in the true sense of the word. But doing it, without respect for the opponent attempt speaks volumes of a person's immaturity.
lesson number 1 : Do Not cross Question unnecessarily. You will lose the confidence of the moderator as well as the audience
lesson number 2 : Do not be stupid with rebuttle, you will make a fool of yourself, and get your opponent in a very strong position.
lesson number 3 (very prejudiced opinion) : SHOW RESPECT FOR FEMALE OPPONENTS, BEING RUDE IS UNCOOL. Being caustic is still acceptable. Most judges will destroy you for this without even realizing it themselves

We didn't have a lot of time to prepare and there were a lot of bloopers with the team formation, given the logistics of getting 4 member teams together in the first place, so the judges allowed paper reading in this case

Lesson number 4 : Do not read from the paper. That's the job of a newsreader. Even if you keep a paper with you, know your place on the page so that you can look at the audience most of the time, and still refer to your sheet in case of blooper...BE WILLING TO IMPROVISE

Lesson Number 5 : Please be creative with content. CREATIVE is the keyword. One point repeated again and again in different rhetorical styles in not going to win you favours. If you can't convince them, confuse them will not work with a judge who is even half listening to what you're trying to put across

Lesson Number 6 : We let people off, but in a professional debate, while taking ideas from the internet is obviously allowed, picking up rhetorics straight off the net from someone else's speech is classified as PLAGIARISM.

Lesson Number 7 : As long as you follow all the above, treat it like a debate, draw blood, be passionate. That is the only way to be honest to this art

SAASC Debate

Dear Dead Bloggers

Saturday was debate day, and on a sultry afternoon, we turned on the heat with some extremely intense debating. In fact, such passion(mostly unneeded) was a first that I've seen in a long time. Those who missed it out of compulsion have sufficient reason to feel morose. The ones who missed it out of choice, have sufficient reason to feel stupid.
We tried a different debate format this time, with four member teams actually trying to work as well co-ordinated units. Each time had a person to introduce, a person to conclude and two people to form the content of the debate. The total Speak Time was 9 minutes followed by 6 minutes of rebuttle. I'll give my reviews topic wise

Debate 1

Indian Education System : 60 years of stifling real thought ?

For : Vinay, Gagan, Avantika and Vaibhav
Against : Amrinder, Varun, Gagandeep Bali, Vinayak

Winners : Against the motion

Surprisingly, other than Vinayak's vociferous Conclusion and Gagan's rhetoric, the debate generated the least amount of passion play and chair hurling amongst the three. The plus point was the good structure of both debates, especially Against the motion. Both conclusions were terse. Vinayak's group actually ended up with the highest overall score amongst all debates. For the motion were just a few points away.
Kudos to Bali for good content. And well done Amrinder, Varun and Vinay who i was seeing speaking live for the first time. Avantika was jittery with the speech but made up for it well in the Rebuttle.

Debate 2

Economic Recession is good for the Environment

For : Abhishek, Kapileshwar, Dipinka, Kshitij
Against : Himanshu, Ritesh, Ripudaman, Mukul

Winner : No one really
for the record
for the motion

I have had bizzare debate experiences before but this one was a little over my limited comprehension. A few enthused characters made sure that debate number 2 had a sadistic element of surprise. Kapileshwar, quite obviously, had had a little too much to drink, as was apparent through his before, during and after debate antics. Ritesh took cross questioning to a completely different level of illegal, and the rest were desperately trying to loop around an exremely indirect topic. But the most interesting occurance was Mukul Kaura's raw rhetoric that lasted 3 full minutes. Unfortunately, it did not resemble any speech that can be termed conventional, and most content was an inverse reaction to what had been said by the opposition. But for the fact that he was able to sustain humour for that duration of time is proof of an obvious talent that we have amongst us.

Debate 3

Slumdog Debate : Poverty Porn or Honest Art

Povery Porn : Prateek, Tanya, Shreniraj, Anuj
Honest Art : Rohit, Neha, Divyajot

Winners : Honest Art

The debate was an example of the importance of Content. The winning team was the most well prepared in terms of research done on the topic. All three speakers had content that had relevance and creativity, which in a way made up for the rather lacklustre presentation. The team that did not win had some strong speeches, but they more or less revolved around the same points. A bigger turn off perhaps was the use of copied rhetoric. While they scored high on diction on presentation, the let down(very slightly), was the content and the lack of team flow. A small margin win again, and the supposed underdogs took the trophy home

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Where I roam... - II

Every morning, I would follow the same routine. The same feeling of not knowing where I was, the same images of blades in my head and the same feeling of being back there. Back in the jungle. Home did not have anything left for me. My wife had taken the kids and left me, I had no friends in particular. Whatever I was, I was among the wet trees and the crawling vines. And sitting here, on my bed, staring at the ants crawling outside, I felt like an alien, like a trapped animal.

And so I waited, waited for a calling, waiting for someone to call me back in the jungle and get back to what I was best at doing. I picked up my bottle of vodka from the side table and sipped on it. That burning sensation in my throat lingered for a moment or two and then disappeared. I wondered what the animals must be doing now ? I started to lift my self from the bed and crouched down on to the floor. Like a cheetah, I waited, waited for the prey. I leaped up and sprang to grab it but it ran away. Disgusted at my failure, I stood up. Looked at myself in the mirror, I transformed my hand into the shape of the claw and then I teased it. The refelction teased me back, I moved backwards and so did he and then in an instant I pounced at him and hit him hard on his chest. He looked at me for a second and then broke into a million pieces. I was the master, I was the king. I was the killer.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Where I Roam...

I dedicate this post to a movie I once saw.

There it was, in my dreams again. The choppers blades cutting the air as its vibrations flooded my ears. The engine's hums lying in the back, it whirled in front of my eyes. Sitting in my uniform, waiting for the worst, I huddled up in a corner, sweating with the heat and sweating with fear. And then I opened them, my green hazel eyes.

And the choppers blades were right there, above me and I was right beneath them. Any second now, they could lash at me and cut me up. Splatter my blood all over the ground and leave me to rot there. Maybe I did want that, maybe I didn't. Maybe I was just dreaming again.

I looked at those blades again and now they were just those of an ordinary ceiling fan of a room in an ordinary hotel. But where was this hotel ?

In search for answers I lifted myself up from the bed and headed for the curtains. Pulling them apart, the light tore into the room as I squinted in hate. And then I saw it, Saigon.


Tuesday, March 17, 2009

i hav made an attempt to write about a character as was told in the last creative writing workshop..

“one more glass of wine,please”,says joe ,finding hard to push words from his mouth in subcounscious state. Having lost his persona in those glasses of wine, he is no more than a dry desert herb striving for more and more water. He is fed up from his mechanical and monotonous life in which his actual self is lost somewhere. His heavily paid job sucks his blood. Joe wakes in the morning when the clock ticks 6. The one thing for which he spends his whole day is the morning tea. Perhaps ,it is the only thing Mary shares with him lovingly. Else, the bridge of differences between them keep on widening and that too ,on the microscopic issues. In the office,his boss just suppresses him and his rare smile in heaps of daily assignments and he can’t protest. Taking refuge of the piles of aspirin ,the hands keep on moving till the clock ticks 8. Everyone goes and he too.. but his work never. Retiring from the pen and paper,he goes straight in the stress relieving zone. ”one glass ,please” and gradually, he loses his identity in that magic bottle which people may call doom but for him,it is a boon, a boon to his life not worth living...

Monday, March 9, 2009


Earthquake! Earthquake!
All in all, a mighty powerful shake.
That seems like an attempt by Nature,
To rearrange your furniture,
By Jove! Nature a zealous attempt doth make!

A man I know

In the dark voids of the cosmos, two stars sat talking. They wondered about each comet that passed them by and each star that had died and come to this universe. They talked of a couple of planets and even a few galaxies. But then one of them asked , " Why don't we look at something smaller?"

And then they looked, looked at a planet here and a couple of moons there. They saw happy faces and sad faces, they were proud and they were pitied. Some got lucky some got poor. And then they ventured on to planet Earth and spent some time searching for people. But they got the same share that was in other worlds, nothing too different, maybe a hand more and a an eye less. Was it all that this universe had to offer ?

But then they fixed their gaze on a different soul. Whose feelings and actions seemed a little too... vague. He was a question waiting to be answered and a form to be filled. He was a man that was known to me.

His mornings came with the sound of an alarm, that would ring twice and then let him do the rest. If his will wished, he would rise to greet the day. But he was usually seen lying on his drool till midday. But when his feet touched the ground, the gravity from Earth pulled him to the loo in a flash. Grabbing his morning paper, he marched to the cubicles and would always pray and hope to find his spot vacant. Solving word puzzles and skimming over comic strips, his world of 1 X 2 X 1 was his only sanctuary of peace and serenity.

The stars liked this soul for he did not burden them with joys or hopes or fears. He just lightened all that and brought a little smile to the face. For this was the curious case of a man who wasn't too busy with his friends or families or worries. He was too busy figuring out himself. Day after day after day.

It was time for the sun to rise now and the stars decided to rest for the day. Tomorrow they will return to see this man again and just in case they don't come tomorrow, well let's just hope they do.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009


I have this habit, long denied
Of turning red and rushing to hide
When caught red-handed, or unawares
With boy, with book or when tumbling down stairs

I hid from friends when I was out "with a boy"
I ran behind a tree to hide
Later, I hit myself repeatedly on the head
When the funny comments turned snide :(

I hid when mommy caught me peeking
Into Big sis's grown up book
Often hid and stalked my childhood friend:
I had a massive crush on his flashy look

I hid when Silvia burst into the room
When I was unfit for company
I hid when I was caught wearing white
On a rainy day that had started out sunny ;)

I hid when I saw the knowing look
Pasted on my teacher's face
When she saw me sharing a cosy lunch
With a boy. I ran as if in a race!

I hid under a bridge when my mommy's friend
Spied me out for a walk one eve
I hid until she turned the corner
Then hurriedly took my leave :P

I hid my gaze from his, right after
I 'fessed up how I felt
I'm sorry for the way I keep behaving!
So many things wrongly dealt (with).

I tried to hide when I fell in love--
But only succeeded in turning blue
I wriggled and squirmed and ducked and blushed
But, I failed at hiding from you :)

Her mommy saw me gape, and duck
Out of sight, in someone's car
Another time I pretend I was someone else
And I prayed they couldn't recognize me from afar!

I'm never up to any good, it seems
I beg to disagree!
It's just a funny freaky thing that I do
It's just a quirk of being Me!

I'm out, about, in perfect innocence
A familiar face makes me flee
I'd crawl under a rock if I would fit
Or beg you to just, HIDE me!

I look away from your knowing eyes
I clamp the smile on my lips
I sober my crinkles and straighten my back
And await your naughty quips

It takes three seconds before I lose my hold
I blush, flush, reluctantly break pretence
I'm giggling and hiccuping, my eyes are tearing
But you refuse to abate your wicked comments

I'm going to stop these silly games,
I tell myself solemnly
I'll be all grown up, and own up, make amends
I won't hide away so sillily.

But the next expose happens, and lo, you'll see
I'll be scrambling for cover yet!
I'll beat a retreat, while you chuckle and wonder
When I'll put up such a big show next!

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

This poem was nominated by UN as the best poem of 2008,
Written by an African Kid.

When I born, I black
When I grow up, I black
When I go in Sun, I black
When I scared, I black
When I sick, I black
And when I die, I still black

And you white fellow
When you born, you pink
When you grow up, you white
When you go in sun, you red
When you cold, you blue
When you scared, you yellow
When you sick, you green
And when you die, you gray

And you calling me colored?

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Since humor is my thing and no one else seems to be posting on this topic for reasons beyond my pondering ability I’m going to go ahead write one more because I am bored and when I am bored I do 2 things one is to find someone and give them a piece of my philosophical thoughts the other is something I would mention if the theme was ‘adult humor’. This blog entry is going to be totally random so don’t bang your heads thinking how this and that came up.
I sometimes days are too long ie 24 hours are like a hell lot of time if you don’t sleep a lot and I don’t sleep a lot. On day’s like these I think we earth habitants should think of moving to mercury where days are like hours and hence we would have vacations a lot sooner. If we were on that planet we could have marathons around the planet and if we wandered away alittle to much we might be in another country, Imagine telling someone “I by mistake walked into china”.
Like many of you know half of Punjab has re-allocated to Canada and U.K because its cooler there and they think the blonde chick are easier to tackle than the traditional Punjabi kudi which when you come to think of it is very true. Indian parents are very insecure about their female spawn. The jain community tops the chart in this aspect, I did amass the guts finally and did ask a jain’s dad “ Uncle uncle??.” , He said “yes beta”, I said “ Why are you ….no not you why are Indian parents so insecure about their daughter’s”?.....Now I was to either expect a slap or an answer….so I was doing the right thing by taking a step back…..and to my shock he raised his hand and put it around my shoulder….I am shivering and I can see flashbacks of the best moments of my life before I die….I saw my mirror reflection topless, My cricket yata yata…...But anyways to my shock jains dad tells me “ Son …Think about this….If you had a daughter …would you want a guy like yourself around her?”…..Ahhhhh….Now we all understand why they all are soo insecure…..haha
Ive written this while taken a breather from studing physics and to tell you the truth physics isn’t half as bad when you’re playing with it. I mean try and photoshop vinayak’s/gagan’s/astha’s body to Einstein’s face and you’ll know what I mean.
Funny names, My laptop has got a virus from pankaj graphics …thus my homepage reads Ahsan Mannan khan butta’s home page….Ive met a dog named Jimmy and a man named bridgedeep.
These brings an end to a not so entertaining and completely random and pointless article, for people reading this best of luck with your tests and convey it to the rest too.

Anonymous Punjabi referring to the songs lyrics as below
Song “ oh baby ure so fine…I wanna make you mine ….youre lipstick tastes so sweet”
Anonymous Punjabi “ Oye kina khotha hai…je-nani de lipstick khanda hai ”

Love as always
Angad Singh


The new theme is humor. Now there are a few things i would like to clarify.

1) This is not a string for posting jokes
2) This is definitely not a string for posting non-original jokes. We promote original artwork only
3)Witty one liners are appreciated but I am looking for something else
4) Humor is the theme, not the topic

So what we are looking at are articles with a humorous intent. One extreme of which was duly illustrated by our dear friend Angad. So, poems, articles-both fiction and non fiction, plays, anything that has a sprinkling of wit, slapstick comedy, or alternatively satire and parady.
Last date for submission would be March 2 before we change the topic again..
Speak to group in-charge for clarifications if any..
Happy blogging

HELLO ALL...Enough of poetry..time to move on

Wonderful, and wonderfully long poetry session we had, with the most recent post by Abhishek Kaushal ranting about his rock performer aspirations. A few observations from my end would be that we aren't as bad as we pretend to be, and we can really think well, and at times beautifully when we want to.
Congratulations, first of all, to all those who wrote for the first time, and gave up on their earlier stated inhibitions. You've been very sporty, and refreshingly talented so stop whining the next time you're asked to write
Apologies to those whose poems did not receive comments, you'll get them, eventually :)..

I was supposed to come up with a first second third by the end of our session, but there were many poems that held my personal fancy and I will just mention the ones I liked best. My opinion, I would like to stress, is just my own and could vary enormously with anyone else's

From the first year, which was the most active on the blog, and many of whom were writing for the first time, my three favorites were by volga (tanya), Thanisha and Ishita Mehta..Other good efforts were by shreni, silky and anumeha...
Second year was responsible for some peach poetry with some astonishingly brilliant and stylistically different poems. Nangia (free flow), Duggal( erudite humour), Astha (brilliant metaphorism) and Mukul( raw wit) were amongst my favorites

Vinayak I love you and will love you always. While that poem was picked up from your facebook account, it is one of the best I've read in a long time

Thanku to the final year for having given in some of their old loot and starting the session on a bright note. I would suggest that everyone read some of poems contributed by the seniors towards the initial part of the posts, and divya kesri's(mistura) poem somewhere in the middle..

I hope the barriers that clogged the mind have been lowered a little, and we can think freely, creatively and more regularly from now on..All the best for the next thread. Keep writing

Friday, February 20, 2009


For that star who is brighter than the sun........ROCK*

Dad always said i ain't the perfect son

But i knew for sure i'd be rocking when i'm done

Religious rehearses in rented apartments

Not killing time cramming academic parchments

Not etching formulas on the walls of my brain

Two days down the line,it would all go down the drain

I was born to be the harbinger of noise

Amps and pedals used to be my toys

It was no different as on that night

My six string shredded the silence of twilight

Cause when i forced the decibel to rise

It left my cult feeling hypnotisized

Amidst the multitude of the seemingly possessed

I could see some faces which looked perplexed

Illusioned by the grandeur they gazed in astound

Before yielding to the hysteria profound

And when the crowd asked for an encore,i couldn't deny

Having crowned me as the undisputed king thereby

God had already scripted my success story

My treacherous companions being fame and glory

Today i stand tall on these pillars of sand

Having buried all doubts, i have vindicated my stand

I head the rebellion against the tyranny of silence

Riding perilously on the waves of defiance

ROCK is the music on which the soul does feed

And i give this elixir to those in need......

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Dear SAASCout’s,

Well I’ve lost my blog-ginity and what better way to loose it than to loose it a subject that I love and care about. As this will be the first blog entries iam going to write what I really think of the people around ie the rest of the so called SAASCouts ( that’s what I am going to call us from now on, It’s the same with the ED’s their called chEDdies).
I am going to take the top down approach. That makes us start with the head. Well after I rejected the position it was given to the next best thing, some guy named Mayank raina. His dog instead of eating his homework chews on his razor so that’s why he cant shave and the reason he can’t ‘run’ for president is because he’s a bit hefty. He and his partner in crimes like irritating innocent bystanders who don’t understand English is Mohit Rodeja. They call him ‘roady’ because of his resemblance to the road in every sense, even the 2 speed breakers upfront. An intellectual marvel who listens to Lata mangeshkar every night before he sleeps because it gives him some kind of high.Then comes the 2 lost in transition Laurel and hardy pair of Go-Swami and Dar-hakim . They can sit up nights together arguing weather the chicken came first or the egg . The girls in the 4th year aren’t make-fun material but I do know the Queen chEDddie Mansi is definitely in the world record books because she’s the tallest midget I know. Divya and latika look to be those girls who are in the end of the line in a cat women audition.
That brings us to the 3rd year starting off with my favorite little batch of gingerbread men/women/vinayak’s. I’ve grown to attached to this group. Vinayaks sponge stomach, Aseems uptight, up-close and personal pant’s, Rampuria’s “I’am you’re real dad” jokes, Vinay’s resemblance to Mr. Bean , Advitya breathing all the CO2 we breathe out because all the air goes up there, The Aman deserves a whole page on this topic but he’s lucky for being escused because my fingers need some energy for the special people about to come. The girls of year 3 aren’t that interesting and plus they would probably mind being torn apart on the internet.
Then come’s our 2nd year’ites. We got this dude (Astha)and its just great to see homosexuals being welcomed so warmly into our community. We got the man with the tshirt and sweat combo in summers in Kshitij and his female bodyguard Digvijay, A person who made a promise to never enter a barber shop again for reasons much beyond my little dogs intellect. There’s this dude who looks and dresses like a squirrel called Nangu, his nose is so blocked that his lungs have constructed another windpipe through his jeans (probably explains why their always torn). We got GSB, a scentbomb which goes off and effects a km radius around it. Its so harmful india has him mentioned in their weapons arsenal along with the agni missiles. I have left out a few of the people because of their low profile around me, yes that includes you divya, sohail and some other names I always forget.
From our animated little freshers batch I know a few but I cant ruin their self esteem and confidence so fast. As they spend more time around me they should be compensated for. I would like to add special mention to 2 really cute girls though. Ones that girl with a great smile and even more great hair Astha, shes’s like one of em small action figures which keep smilling. The second if that smart little 10 pointer whose according to me the most innocent and cute thing walking around in this sanctuary namely PEC .
That ends a moderately entertaining session. Hope you took this in the right sense ie offense.

“Stable relationships are for horses”



A very good Bihari friend of mine once commented about his native state, "Bihar is not a state, it's a state of mind.":-)

Once upon a time,a song
Was written unseen,unknown and long;
No bird,no man could ever trace
Its writer,time or birthplace
Echoed in the valleys: near and far,
Beyond the fields, below the star.
It mesmerised you to faint,
Just like a speech from an eternal saint.
It glorified the past;the wars and pain,
Like someone seduces you but in vain.
It hinted about some unsaid melancholy
It drained the spirits no half but fully
It was on lips and sung in all fields
Ones unaware of it were met with stares
Some loved,some loathed,some called it a bore
But it was a song you just cannot ignore
Years passed and passed decades and hence passeth the time
But still on lips dances the song: the solitary rhyme.

This poem is the creation of ANAND MALHOTRA whose umpteen reminders had no effect on our so dedicated secy but let me tell ya despite those unfrutiful efforts to suppress ma voice i still been able to defend my right to freedom of speech.
Jai Maharashtra!

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Tiny tot,busy a lot

Hi guys! Sorry for not posting this earlier, but i was busy in drams workshops. Well, here is what we had been doing in our workshops for 2 weeks:

After a hectic day in college,
without understanding anything or gaining any knowledge,
Started our dramatics workshops.
Tired and exhausted we entered the audi,
only to find exercises being done by everybody.
We exercised till our muscles began to scream,
sometimes we hoped that it was only a dream.
Suddenly, in charged HADLEE,
the man whose very name hurts us badly.
Various stressful exercises we did perform,
For 2 weeks, this was our norm.
The last few days, however, were loads of fun,
Cause after the workshops, to the cafe we used to run.
Chatting and gossiping, not a minute were we bored,
And if nothing came up, always ready to make fun of the ED BOARD.
Finally, the workshops came to an end.
We can now just sit at home and enjoy our weekends.

But sitting at home is such a bore,
And you know what, yeh dil maange more.
Cause sitting is what we have been doing for so many years,
Its finally time to live life to its fullest, my dears.

a journey from dawn to dusk

It was a frigid night..
with darkness all over ..
the sight of the moon was in plight,
and the stars just could hover.

Just then I smirked in,
shedding off the prevailing calignous .
With all my rays ,
the world woke up,
leaving behind all the haze.

My trabecula scattered ,
with the drops of dew..
and the sound of birds beautified the view .

Up in the noon,
I was at the pinnacle ,
where nobody could even reach..
and I could never jiggle.

Quietly came the evening ,
the birds started chirping,
Moving towards their home,
carrying happiness in their hearts

Very slowly I moved off into the darkness ,
where I am covered with plenty of emptiness
But tomorrow i’ll come again,
to make the day awesome.
For I am the world..
I am the volery ..
Forget this never
I am the glory.

Monday, February 16, 2009

hi guys m really sorry for shying away from my karmic duty of saasc blogging so here goes a poem....although the topic is old but that is what i wanted to write..


Finally i manage to die..

with an unseen tear an unheard cry,

one groan and a big mouthed moan..

"Let me Go!! Leave me Alone!! "

To oblivion I go...

after this fire throw.

As my body catches fire,

The obvious folly i admire,

Why do you set me ablaze?

I was already a charred maze,

In a burial you shroud me,

All i wanted is to be free!

Let this cessation be tyrrany's end

With death let my life extend

DEATH is another life

but not an eternal strife...


A long story







Sunday, February 15, 2009


The rays of the sun,
Lashing out at the darkness,
Serving the beautiful white flowers,
The beginning of the day.

Like the sun,
Everyday teaching the people,
The old man wanders,
His experience shining brightly,
Upon anyone he meets.

The whiteness of the moon,
Falling on the mountains,
The serenity of white light,
The beauty of the night.

Like the moon,
Every time calming the others,
The saint spells on,
Expressing brotherhood and peace,
Upon no one he meets.

Friday, February 13, 2009


Mayday! Mayday! I am sinking, crashing !

I dream avocation meeting vocation
When the king finds isolation,
one that's not peaceful but fearful perhaps,
smell of burnt brass and not mown grass perhaps...

When narrow minded walls shatter,
and my own myths batter,
I aspire for springs, showers, power and skies....

When orator finds in his audience no consolation,
one that's not rebellious but perilous perhaps
silent though but mute not perhaps....

When the willow bents with humility against gale
and clouds sail over bellows with grace
At that moment , I ask O Almighty! , give us power to admit...

When we are lured for just another useless piece of metal,
Amazed not but greedy perhaps,
Admitting not but overlooking perhaps,
At that moment, I ask O Almighty! , can i be forgiven...

When the people you love seem most alien
When the very mother acts like a chamelion,
When her own milk becomes the source of poison,
At that moment, I ask O Almighty! , is it doomsday...

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

life is beautiful...

Life Is beautiful….
Makes the impossible possible
Bcaz its all in the destiny
I always knew there is someone special fr me
Who will love me endlessly,
Care fr me,
Always thinks of me,
Understands me,
..will be my better half.
He ws in front of me,
He used to look at me
He might hv thought I wud look and smile,
But it ws me who kept my eyes closed.

But life is beautiful…
I found my true love
One who loves me endlessly
One who cares fr me
One who thinks of me
One who understands me
You are my dream man
You are my charming prince
Your smile brings brightness all around
Your sweet dimple takes away all the fears
One of the loveliest smile I hv ever seen
Just one smile fills my life with happiness
Can do anything to see you always smiling

No matter how far we are
But our heart beats are the same
This distance has never been able to lessen our love
When I open my eyes in the morning I wish to see you
Whn I go out I wish u accompany me
Whn I laugh I wish you laugh wid me too
Whn I cry I wish u wipe my tears
Wherever I m I wish u to love me every moment.
I always wish and pray wherever you are and whtever u do , you get all the happiness and joy of the world.

tell me once.....

tell me once.....
the love that we shared,
the feelings of joy...
the heart that was one,
the me that was yours...
won't your heart burn,
don't tell me you never cared..
tell me once,tell me just once.....

the times we spent,
the moments of love...
the touch of you,
the voice that calls for my lonely heart...
wont your heart ache,
don’t tell me love just came and went..
tell me once,just tell me once.....

the weak that i am,
the hollow that i feel...
the heart that reaches out to yours,
the destiny that brought you so far...
wont your heart choke,
don’t tell me you call it a melodram..
tell me once,jus tell me once.

p.s-its not exactly a isnt a poem...and fr anyone who knws what i comment

Monday, February 9, 2009

Wimp, a constant imp.,

Imps never grow up into wishful cherubs,
for they’re ever loved for being so impsome.,
but that is just all that they can ever be.

O wimp, my imp, now don’t you beam,
You’re wrecking the midnight misery aye,
Go nibble and gnaw my buckskin strap,
And make caverns exult your heavenly cries.,

O wimp, my boy, let’s crunch your limbs,
And shred all skin off your sinewy trunk,
We’ll toss you around and whip you hard,
And such playful tricks shall keep you young.,

O imp, your impiness demands,
Such loathsome grime that the sane can’t handle,
And towards the end when you come out tops,
You’re never aloof from a searing scandal.,

O wimp, so jade, but tread not in rush,
In the swarm of men, all good monkey-eyed,
Or I’ll to bury your thorns and wind your tail,
To hoard away from imps with scouted sides.,

O wimp, deared imp, that hallowed howl,
Shall it flood all naughtiness in men,
Until that day, we’ll redden all hands,
To saunter all lands, as prided imps again.,

Stanza 3 by Mayank.,
Theme, quite shamelessly, and without permission, lifted from a post on Kokil's blog

Love Actually

Why did it happen
that I was at a place
I didn't plan to be

Why did I see
a person long seen
and no hope of meeting again

Why was the person so beautiful
a beauty so mesmerizing
a dream so fulfilling

Why couldn't I sleep
that night
think it was more than insomnia

Why in my dreams
when I could sleep at all
was a face not ready to fade

Why did the world
seem so beautiful
and life so pretty again

I dont know
you tell me
was it love actually.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

love at first sight-2

love at first sight-2
after the first not so good experience
after i got my new conveyance
i decided to go on a new joyful ride
and in search of love were my eyes open wide
in darkness again came a ray of light
i realised again it was my love at first sight

this time i ought to be more serious
i thought to stay calm and not be furious
i took the first step and greeted her with a "hello"
she was surprised after hearing this from an unknown fellow
i realized that my chances were not bright
and i was losing my love at first sight

i decided to chat with her on gtalk
but that too was not as easy as an evening in the park
my freinds suggested me to take her on a date
she rejected my offer owing to my bad fate
again i started watching movies like black and white
but i decided not to give up and continue with my love at first sight

i tried hard again and again
but all my efforts went in vain
at last she accepted my proposal
and then i was at her disposal
this time i got it all right
now this is my true love at first sight

Praise him with great Praise..!

If only Mr.X would not groan,
At the skills we try to hone.
'Like' making efforts to make him smile..
That always end up being futile.
He grins and bears, but we know better
Why he hides behind his only sweater..
He exists on a different plane...
Looking all imperial with his kingly mane.
If only he looked at our reverential gaze,
And could comprehend how we yearn for his praise,
If only he could see through the jokes,
And see how much inspiration he evokes.
'Like' we always love the things he'll say.
Even his little nod makes our day.
If only he knew we write not just for fun,
But to make hay beneath Him-our Moon and Sun...

written by Ishita and Anumeha (who swear their undying devotion)


The steamed mirror a perfect slate.

Her finger sketching a watery tale.

Of tearglazed flowers on a long dead tree.

Of the mirrored farce of a desert's sea.

Of EXIT signs in the middle of a show.

Of dark cobbled lanes the highway man trod.

Of the blood red rose marking the hole.

Where the bullet passed her and tore his soul.

And when new water down the mirror flows.

Her face distorts in its zigzagged rows.

A blurred reflection stirring up ghosts.

Of old oblivions, of old resolves.

Friday, February 6, 2009

Baby steps of a poet

Staring at this blank sheet,
I yearn for a single thought.
Out of the blue comes a torrent of ideas,
Yet I struggle to join the dots.

Here begins the dilemma
And my tussle with words.
What should I write upon?
Animals, plants or birds?

Spurred by an attack on my ego
comes my act of reprise.
It’s evident I’ve no chance
of winning that coveted prize.

Now the game of words has me hooked
Poetry seems not so glum;
Yet it’s just the beginning
With many more to come.

Lo and behold! I realize
I’m about to reach the twentieth line
And all I can do is smile
Cos’ this creation is all mine.

Absolutely unworthy of all the time taken to post it....

to ishita- thanx for all the help... :)

love at first sight

love at first sight
from rock garden to rose garden
from backward to modern
from teachers to preachers
from toddlers to seniors
all talk about love at first sight

whether its dark or light
whether its wrong or right
whether its peace or fight
whether its pepsi or coke diet
i always think about my love at first sight

one day when clock struck nine
i felt my heart wasnt fine
none but i heard the bells ringing
eventually,i realised that my heart was singing
i didnt knew who was at my left or right
soon i realized that it was my love at first sight

when days were short,and long were the nights
when nothing in my life was going right
when drona appeared better than dark knight
when my mobile bills were at the greatest height
i assumed it was the time to end my love at first sight

but the sight for love never ends......


The six letters sound so special,
A special meaning they explain,
Why even a short dazzle,
Becomes so hard to sustain.

A life so short and so small,
So many relations it holds,
A silent breeze and slight snowfall,
Life’s pleasures it infolds.

It is the wind you breathe around,
So important to encase,
The only one special in crowd surround,
Nothing else can replace.

Affectionate love, Selfless care,
The elegant delights dawned,
Unfolded hand which never despairs,
Defines an eternal bond.

In times of joys, grief, misery,
The one and only to depend,
This defines a simple corollary,
That’s you my dear FRIEND!

Thursday, February 5, 2009



LIFE is a game, learn the rules correctly
Handle it intelligently, not too hastily
For today u may be a loser but
Tomorrow will be your day
If u get to know the trick to play it,
The whole world is at your feet.

LIFE is a challenge
Face it, believe in your roots,
Have faith in your upbringing
Then u will see times changing in your favor
Thank god. .. for he has given it.

LIFE is happiness,
Life is satisfaction, life is short
Live it to the fullest…
Live each day as it is the last day of your life.

Realm of Dreams

What if….
One fine day all our dreams come true
I wonder what this world would turn into?
Would it ….
Become a better place to live in
Sans evil, free from all sin?
Would it…
Renounce all its greed,
Become united irrespective of caste or creed?
There be an end to the widespread apathy,
A little more understanding, a little more empathy?
Man learn from his previous errors,
Rescue this world from all its terrors?
Or would…
The world go on as if nothing occurred,
With its egoistic prayers being heard?
Humans continue the despicable exploitation of mother earth,
Never realize her value or worth?
It is too much to expect,
This world can never be perfect?
It is too late to make amends,
This is the way it all ends....

irony of my life

Years have gone by
no clue of their existence
Now i am a big boy
i am a big boy..........but where is my childhood
childhood-that i probabaly forgot to spend.
This tide took me and
i swayed with it.........
leaving everything i loved on promises that i would come back
i would come back.......

As i child i wanted to be big
but that desire is long gone
just like my childhood.
No fate no clue no chance for them to return
but i would wait for sure
like a sailor waits for the shore

From the heart of mine...

Morning was surely cool and fine,
I got up at half past nine,
Intended to attend a class of mine,
A hell of all that story of sine,
He came and started to define,
Amidst i uttered some words of mine,
He spotted and stressed his adrenaline,
And shouted "get lost through the pipeline",
A sort of chill ran down my spine,
What it resulted was an attendance fine,
In the outer world was a curious line,
All flocks with a similar destine,
We shared a common storyline,
Rushed to have a glass of wine,
Keeping aside the ideals of divine,
Finally i realized it's not decline,
But making the hay while sun shines...

my classmates can understand it better...

Birth of a poem

Being asked to write a poem

My face ran out of color

But then, not losing my heart

I decided to write, as it was now or never

For days I kept on wondering

As to how a person can force his ideas to vent

And jot it down on a piece of paper

Giving it the shape of a poem when they lay pent

Somewhere deep inside my heart

Which now lay defeated before my mind

My mind boxed up with the due dates of assignments

Resulting in a poem not ‘one of its kind’

Something I expect to float on this blog

For ‘tis not weighed down by the heavy emotions!!!


Walking through the road unknown,untravelled
Seems like a mystery not yet unravelled.
I often ponder where am i heading,
Has it been something I've been wanting???

Met a loving family,whose footsteps i follow
Without them I would be just a hollow.
They gave me a name I carry with pride,
Their values and rituals I try to abide.
They stood by me when times were tough,
For which i can never thank them enough.

And then there were people who joined me on my way,
They are my friends, as you would say.
i dint initially realise what role they would play,
But they weren't afterall just a model of clay.
they went through the up and downs , as did I,
It pained a lot when time was to bid them goodbye.
Some of them stayed,while some left by,
But those were the days...,I shouldn't lie.

There were those shaky starts and the pebbled roads,
Times when I found it tough to handle the load.
Abroken leg, twice a broken heart,
Still trying hard to put together the parts.
Went through the turmoils, happy times weren't far,
But what they left behind was a tril of scars.

I have been i lil foolish,clever sometimes
Somewhat greedy and selfish for a while.
Moulded into a person that gives it his best,
Till the time I finally go to rest.
But someday, this path is gonna end,
Time will cease,as will the opportunity to make amends.

**plz ignore the variable lines in stanzas....rather ignore the poem only...

A Space Odyssey

With shadows of clouds

The moon beckons me

My hopes, my dreams

It clearly sees.

For a wish upon a star I’d make

My life on earth I’d keep at stake

A journey into space, a life unique

A leap in time, I terribly seek

For on the moon, plays my heart’s content

A lifetime of wishes, I have spent

Away from this planet, I sincerely thrive

I’ve paid my dues to the space archives

This enchanted journey, I’m going to take

I vow, a mark in history to make

The moon bathes me with its cool light

And I get lost in my dreams of flight

I want to walk on the moon and bounce along

Follow in the “steps” of Neil Alden Armstrong

And eleven other great men

The last of who was Eugene Cernan

I dream of blasting off into space

Dream of seeing all of the Earth’s face

Dream of zooming away in a rocket ship

And doing a zero-gravity backflip

And hey! If I go fast enough,

Analyzing the twins’ paradox might not be so tough

But that’s not my goal, not any more;

The purpose is to go forth and explore;

To find new worlds, unexplored parts

Where humanity may leave its indelible marks

Set foot on new vistas, new lands

And (hopefully) leave another giant leap in history’s sands

I wish, my friends

To be a Magellan or a Columbus of space

With one notable difference--

The map’s already in place.

So off I go on my explorations

High hopes coupled with higher aspirations

I’m off on my journey to the stars

I might beam back a couple pictures when I fly by Mars

I rocket off on my celestial sojourn

Who knows what new things I may learn?

Astronaut, cosmonaut, call me what you want;

I’m off to the heavens on my dream jaunt

And as my rocket high above you flies,

You could say I’m the shooting star in your eyes.

So watch me fly, way above your sight,

‘Cause I am the man on the moon, I am the man with the light.

--Strictly speaking, this is not my poem alone. I must say, whatever grace is present in this poem is all thanks to a very special friend who contributed impromptu at 1.30 am and, frankly speaking, gave me room to save my face. Thank you!!! :)

The Last Silver

A haggard face peeped through a chink in the marquee,
Clad in rags, ill-suited to the weather very parky.
Hearing the muffled voices and peering at the distant light,
Dispelling the melancholy of the night.
Hence, walking away from the murky night,
There was revelry in sight.
The tramp thus reached the frenzied crowd,
With the marquee standing tall and proud.
Rapt in thought and marvelling at its height,
Somebody from within, answered with delight.
A stately figure of a gypsy, dressed in azure,
Parting the curtain, she invited him indoor.
Her eyes shone with the carelessness of a child,
Her movements so fluid and nimble, temper so mild.
Happy as a clam at high water,
All this was odd enough for a woman of her stature.
Wiping the crystal ball clear,
And chanting spells, she flung her arms in the air. 
The tramp stood rooted, in a dither...
Confused, yet amused...
After a lapse of silence, started the fortuneteller,
Like a ray of light breaking through the dark clouds,
Driving away gloom, pain and doubts.
Her voice hovered  over the place,
Filling his soul with ever increasing  solace.
There were better days in store,
That she promised for sure......
Clinging to hope,
Gone were the days to mope.
Startlingly, he broke the monologue, the surreal ambience...
And thrusting in her hand a red bag, he fled,
Clutching tightly to what he had gained,
And thus he parted with his last silver........

Wednesday, February 4, 2009


Smile, because it costs you nothing

and yet it brings you everything;

the strength to endure life's pains

and a lot many other gains

with just one smile,

all your worries run away a mile,

it makes you win friends outright,

because it makes everything around so bright.

So dear friends,why lose out on life's greatest attribute,

keep smiling and pay life a tribute.


one day
on a monday
i sat down
to write down
a poem
no words came
of it nothing became
trying to write-up
i got fed-up
and slept