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.

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.

Shit...

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...

EARTHQUAKE!

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.

Blushes

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!

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?

SAASCout’s,
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

Humor

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