PaaartY???!

My Life is a very big party,
Dark crowded stinky rooms,
An Ugly music always booms,
People in circles dance around,
Shouting obsene chorus sounds,
A few drunken girls,
Still giving you disgusted looks,
Many vomit stains,
A bunch of bran brains,
In brawling pains,
The sick kid sneezes
In your face,
The DJ, has bad music taste,
The bartender makes you wait,
Is flirting with his favored mates.
Happy pills effect worns out,
-OH now, or it will be freaking
Misery bouts,
A broken bottle finds your place,
Chug it all down,
Before it's stripped off
From your slate,
Too much of that burns your mouth,
To clear that out,
Give out a random shout,
Sniff this, Chew that,
Shake here, shout again,
Too much shaking
Makes ingredients bland,
The perfect mixup of lava land,
A tiny explosion in your head,
Soon you can't stand,
You can't walk,
Your pendulum swagger,
Is all over the park,
Few legs you bite,
Taste some hits,
Black eyes,
Face in swollen bits,
You somehow make it out,
But you still feel like shit,
A few faces sympathise,
They don't really want to help,
Just watch, mock, yelp,
No one to really pull you up,
Down in all fours,
Cheek on the ground,
feels rough,
So you pass out in a dirty corner,
Searching for bliss.

Why I do not want to believe in luck

             Luck is a word many people often use if they are trying to be modest, but it is also widely thrown around when people out do their expectations, and sometimes when failures hit us in unexplainable circumstances we blame the lack of it. I see people quoting luck all the time, "she had luck, I didn't, that is why I failed", "man I can't believe I got the job, I have to thank my lucky starts".
         But do you realise that the concept of luck takes away the credit entirely from you, i.e it was not because of your hardwork or presence of mind or common sense or even sheer cunningness for the matter but some undefinable random force, so the next time when the same situation presents itself, "you can't confidently say that I have faced and surpassed the situation before  so I believe I have the necessary skills and experience to face it again", but all you can say is luck has to favour me again.
          Similarly in case of a negative situation there is a possibility that you can assess the previous situation come to a conclusion of all that led to your defeat, like lack of preparation, flaw in execution, bad external factors..... and you could prepare yourself in such a way that you could somehow bypass them, sometimes even presume all the probable factors (outside) that could play a role in that particular senario, and try to be ready for them, hence remarkably decreasing the chance of failing again, giving you actual hope. Saying I failed beautiful of lack of luck would mean I have no control over my circumstances, and I can never never really rely on me.
          I would definitely feel safer if my sucess or failure depended on me, my ability, my skillset rather than some magical probality wouldn't you?. Luck if somehow miraculously does exist, is an entity that is best left ignored, as it gives you no actual hope, or reason.
          

The kid with dreams

          Siddarth was so angry with his parents, as they never trusted his potential one bit, so he decided it's time to go, he packed his bags, left the house in wee hours of the morning, with a duffel bag full of his clothes, his guitar and some money and his 10 grade certificate. He had left a letter, explaining to the folks back home the reason for his absence, and how he will come back there as a winner after reaching his destiny.
           He boarded the first bus to the city, he was so excited and scared, had multiple second thoughts about the plan, but this seemed to him like the only way he could ever be a musician, his family was never pleased with his dream of being a guitarist, they explained to him again and again that very few made it big in music, and he was not that talented, studying was the only way for success for middle class families, he was not going to accept any of those excuses, they even went to the extent of stopping his guitar classes because they thought it was an hinderance to his studies, hence he had to leave, he couldn't take it anymore.
            After he made it to the city he had no idea what to do, never having gone anywhere alone before, he was naive, confused, he had to no answers to to the very basic questions for survival like, where to stay, who to contact, how to eat, how to reach his destiny, and the money he had was not going to help him for more than a few days, first day he slept on the bus stand bench, ate in the shops around the bus stand, the next few days, he asked passerbys on how to become a musician, very few stopped and responded, the once who did seemed to give him "multiple choices", "cinema, movies, kollywood, music director, padam", all those advises pointed him to one direction kollywood, he went to AVM  studios in chennai, it was closed down to make way for a multiplex complex, he roamed around the city searching for movie shoots, he asked the crew men for music chances, he was always shooed off, laughed at, rediculed, slowly his money started to dwindle Without any actual work, and he ate less and less until he had nothing to eat just scraps from temples, churches and odd marriage celebrations. He started feeling weak, Sleeping outdoors had taken a toll on his body, he repeatedly got sick, he searched around a few places for a job but they all declined him, he was so hungry so he needed some money, he had this big craving for poori in the road side.
                One day when he was roaming in the sunny afternoon,  Siddarth abruptly sat on the pavement in t-nagar, he spread his blanket, displayed his guitar and the few clean clothes he had with him, ready to sell anything for some food, he was so hungry, he sat there for hours all the while thinking  if he should go back home, or call them, may be God was punishing him for leaving home, he thought, he had been taught that is what happens to bad people like him who chase dreams against norms, kids who do not obey, when someone with a brown cap, beige shorts and khaki tshirts showed up disturbing his thought process, said "how much for those shorts?" Pointing at his favourite pair of black shorts, he didn't know what to say, thought about it and blurted " it's 200", capped guy replied "Rs 200, for these?, these look used, I will give you 70, what do say you?", he nodded, and snatched the money off the man's hand as  he offered it.
           He was about to go get the pooris he had been craving for, when the guy came back, "hey kid, how much for the guitar?", RS 300, Siddarth said spontaneously without thinking, "300? do you even know what this is worth?", examining the guitar which would atleast sell for RS 7000 if it was new "did you steal it from someone?", "no this is mine, I have been learning to play this for years" he replied, "if are you telling me the truth?, play it for me?", and Siddarth did, he played a couple of songs in succession, a small crowd gathered around as he did, he did not winch, it had been a few days since he played so it felt amazing, and when he stopped, all the people applauded, he felt proud, energised, accomplished.
         The man with the hat who waited patiently for all the applause to drown and people to move away, exclaimed "kid you are really good!, we have a small band which plays in functions, we are looking for a back up guitarist, we have decent pay and regular gigs do you want to join?". Siddarth suddenly lost his hunger.

spider

spider

Conformist pigs

I hate to go on a rampage,
But I feel like this is
Right rage,
Why do you get the need,
To showel your filthy noses,
In everyone's business,
"This is the right way!,
You are doing it wrong,
Listen to what I say,
My ways are older
Than time, and day,
I know a few posh words,
I were a fancy dress,
My hair is always parted,
My shelves are always sorted,
I am diplomatic and nice,
I have most populistic opnions,
I must be so wise,
I am always right,
I am always right",
Bugger off kid,
You are not wise,
Being unoriginal is not wise,
It's means you are easily,
Impressionable,
And had a fancy school education,
Your ego has grown a bone,
And has to poke every hole,
You are the person
Who still confuses,
Dress with intelligence,
Words with manners,
Wealth with decency,
And never touched a spanner,
Someone who watches glee,
Don't mind me,
I don't wanna poke your insecurities,
But when everyone is familiar
With those fancy words,
And understand nice is not good
Piccaso is dead,
There was no Shakespeare before Shakespeare,
And begin to create their own style,
You will not be able to
Swim out of your conformist bubble,
Caught  in the back of the stupid race,
You created.

Shortest bloody stories 1 (micro fiction).

       It was the first time he had a syringe in his hand, so trembled to find the patient's vein and slowly injected the drug, 'that was a relief', he thought as everything went well.

        He just started to leave because he had to attend to the next patient, when an agitated voice called "nurse, nurse", he turned to look, a stream of blood splashed on his face and apron.

"Let me drive, let me drive", said the 13 year old tommy to his mother, she looked around and the roads were empty, so it seemed safe enough to let him drive.

        "Be careful", she said before giving him the wheel, he was, he drove with precision and ease, "mommy, this is so cool" he said looking at her, but she looked panicked, "look out" she screamed pointing to the road, the car struck a dog, it gave a big shreak,  and was propelled in the air, hitting the windshield the second time, the white car had multiple patterns of blood changing and  dripping along with gravity, with the dog's brain dangling from the wiper.

"You are it", said Michael tagging his friend rakesh, and started running away from him, Rakesh caught up with Michael soon,  "no you are" tagging him a little harder on his back, Michael lost his balance and fell, without even realising this Rakesh started running away, a clearly frustrated Michael  regaining his balance by now, comprehended there was leagues of distance to cover, so he picked up a rock and thew that as hard as he could at his friend, the rock whizzed and found a little kid who was walking near by, hit him on his nose, leaving him with a deviated septum which herniated through the broken patch of skin, and  a waterfall of blood gushing through the nostrils.

Keloid

It is inappropriate wound healing, where there is excessive fibroblast and blood vessile proliferation.

Symptoms
Itching
Redness
Tenderness.
Claw like distribution to normal skin.

Risk factors
Black population.
Tb.
Piercing, injection sites.

Complications
Infections

Treatment.

Triamicinalone acetate - inj (steroid)

Excise ans skin graft.

Laser therapy.

Silicone compression.

Radiation.

Topical retinol.

Nano fiction

         He called her several times, to say that he loved her before he left for his job abroad, she didn't even pick up. He left without saying how he felt.
         She had lost her phone yesterday.

            Raj scanned the room for his best friend, he was always the life of the party, so he was hard to miss, but Raj could not find him.
             He enquired the coordinators if his friend and college roommate had arrived for the get together. They all gave him confused and sad reactions "errrr, Raj, I am sorry, didn't you know?, vineeth died last year in an accident".

"Son, you could be anything you want to be".
Son "I wanna be a dragon".

         She had lousey taste in men, they always ended up hurting her, so she still looked at him in wonder even after 10 years of marriage, " How did I find him?".

       " what kind of a husband do you want when you grow up?"
       " I want a vampire like Edward".

The Internet crashed, the roommates finally talked to eachother in person, it had been 3 days since they got there.

Real friends and social networking friends are not the same, they both know two different versions of me.
   "Which is the real you?"
    "Duh, ofcourse the social networking version".

Random sets of emotions.

I don't want to hide.

Wear your weakness

Their eyes are not mirrors.

All your gods were rebels

A nobody

Raising kids

We bring kids in to the world,
Start teaching them from 1,
Put them through the best schools,
Teach them every language,
Sciences, Discipline, to follow orders,
Teach them to suceed, Compete, win,
Show them tradition,
A way of life,
Give them dream which you consider apt,
Teach them to work hard towards it,
Sleepless.
But wouldn't you rather have children,
Who love the little things,
a ball game,
night sky, a favourite TV show,
Who can ask questions before following,
Who can think before accepting,
Their biggest virtue is to be happy,
Who are kind and can let others win,
Who prefer to just grow with the crowd than compete,
Who are capable of choosing dreams for their own,
Who are broad minded and can accept anything, anyone.
Who would prefer to live their life not chasing
Never full filling sucess,
But who are happy where ever they arewho ever they are,
who understand this is no race but life, and they are special even if world thinks they are usless.
And these kids we call losers, dumbos, rebels, lazy,
Might as be the only survivors one day.
Don't teach these real humans to be heartless robots.

The longest minute

            He had always been uncomfortable of heights, so he tried not to look down, if he did he would never jump, "it's time to go" he said to himself, but his body failed to move, he couldn't make his legs to initiate the jump, they felt so rigid, so he took four deep breaths to loosen himself, walked a few steps back, closed his eyes and jogged towards the edge of the 8th floor of his office building, as his legs hit the low wall, it toppled him over and he knew was in the air, as he felt the pull of gravity under him.
             He kept his eyes closed, waited for all of it to get over in a minute, he kept counting, 1.... 10, 11... 20... 30... he counted till 60, paused to feel the concrete hit his chest, with his heart beat  pacing rapidly he was ready to embrace death with open arms, but he felt nothing, it seemed like he was still falling, may be he miscalculated the distance , so he kept counting till it was 120, but nothing happened, curiosity made him to open his eyes, he was definitely falling down, but to his surprise as he was falling towards the floor, the floor was moving away from in the same pace, this confused him, this was not how gravity is supposed to work, may be if he tilts towards the ground a little bit he might get there faster, so he arched his body to a ninety degrees, now the ground moved away from him faster than before, then he started moving faster too, as he moved faster and faster, his skin started to peel off him, layer by layer, then his muscles, his bones, all he is a brain now, his brain started to evaporate, now he was just a sprit, formless, shapeless.
                 He stopped falling down as his sprit was lighter than air, he started to spiral upwards, upwards, what is happening?, who was he?, why was he spiralling upwards?, what is his name?, what is this?, is he dead?, what is death?, questions kept pilling over him, then he had a massive headache, it was tearing him apart.
              "The best", "what", "you didn't listen a word I said, did you?" remarked Robin, "what" he said again, "Like I was saying, the one's you took a minute ago, the best Lsds in business".

         

The stories I need.

Real stories to be told
Stories, stories, stories
I need to find,
Stories that would open
Make me unwind.

No stories of fictions,
Exaggeration, Depiction,
Nor Misguided perceptions.
But of people,
Living breathing-
From the mouth of dragon,
Stories of constant resurrection.

Stories of pained, broken
And stained,Contained,
And of valour, strength and love.
Of farmers, truckers,
Beggers, prostitutes and more,
Who fight with all honesty,
Though all closed doors.

The lions in common,
weeds for those wolves,
Isolated, scarred, abused,
But burning within.
Stories of diamonds among coals,
Not the one's polished and throned,
But one's which go clearly unseen,
They have great stories to be told.

Undefined

Social anxiety

Room full of people
I don't fear you,
All those judging eyes,
Cannot Pierce though
My defenses.

1) (one), My completely blank mind.
Leaving my head dislodged,
For a few temporary minutes,
So no thoughts ever cross.

2) (two), My fast paced walk.
Will leave your judgements,
Gasping for air,
As they cannot be followed,

3) (three), The very last chair,
Behind a trusted few,
Barriers that can conceal,
The Haven.

The familiar stranger,
I know I have to greet,
If you see any of these,
I am trying to.

1) (one), The curl of the lips,
Because, my full smile is creepy,
And if not reciprocated,
The curl is disguised as a twitch.

2) (two), The uninterrupted stare,
A sign of acknowledgement,
That I know you, "hey, there,
I have seen you around".

3) (three), The head nod,
Upwards, downwards, sideways,
Because my limbs are frozen,
This is all I could manage.

All my house guests,
Who I don't know personally.
I have to dodge,
The small talk and akward silences.
I have certain protocols.

1) (one), Not coming out,
Of my tiny lair,
My Scheming station,
If there is even a hint of visitors.

2) (two), When the door bell rings,
I go hide in my room,
Yes, even when I am over 20.
Never even turning to have a second look.
Let someone else deal with it.

3) (three), When caught off guard,
I stand up politely,
Offer you the place to sit,
Even if all the chairs are empty,
As I march off to my pit.

Ominous shadows

Free will?

Shout out.

His touch

A prostitutes perspective

The green disease

The green disease is spreading, Don't know when it started from, Millions have have fallen, All most everyone's got some, They hardly know it's a disease, Poor souls, it might be the wrath Of them old trees, that ceased, The green disease is spreading.

The green disease is spreading, It hardly needs a vector, Because people don't run away, It's something they work for, It's starts off as a thing, With a most essential value, It's seems to serve you, It then gives you this Euphoric high, A sense of delight, Makes you wanna try, A mirage of a better life, But slowly the symptoms Starts showing,
A tiny vortex within you Blows, steadily grows, It has to be fed, Need turns to greed, Once you worked For a roof and bread, Now for the paper in green, Some pieces of lead, And numbers on a computer screen.

The disease is spreading, It's bound to have casualties, The weak one's who couldn't Please, the vortex's greed, They are either hunted or Left behind, As the green disease latches on To someone better it could find.

Dead again

              When Mr. Samuel was back from the hospital, there was no surprise party waiting to welcome him, just an empty, half destroyed, relic, a poor excuse for a house, after recovering from his coma of 10 years he came to see his family thinking they will be happy to see him, happy to know he is alive, but to his dismay, he learnt that his parents were dead, hardly anyone in the town remembered who he was and the ones who did were old or dying as most of the men around his age had migrated elsewhere in seach of better jobs with their family, his wife had re-married a rich land lord in the adjacent village 7 years ago and he had no news about his son, who was a 6 months old when he left.
              He left for a construction job in the city with so much hope that he was going to make life better for all of them, but he met with an accident. When the hospital told him he had been in coma for 10 years he couldn't believe it, he remembered everything like it was yesterday, the concrete slab falling towards him, how his legs froze, and then everything went black. They must be joking he said to himself, he even tried to snap out of the bad dream, but he couldn't, it was all real. They told him no one in his family came to see him, the construction company had been paying his expenses.
            He had so many questions did his wife did know what had happened to him?, did his parents ever find out before they died?. Should he go meet his wife, But wouldn't that make her life more complicated?, to her he is someone she called a husband before 10 years, but to him she was his wife few days ago, just last week he bought his son a new dress, now she was with an other man, his son someone else's son. All these thoughts caused a concoction of anger, jealousy, resentment. He finally decided to leave the place before he does anything stupid, destroy someone's life.
             He decided to go to some other town, get a job and start over, as he was just about to tred past his village in search of a new life, he heared someone calling out his name, "Sammy, Sammy", he turned, saw a very familiar looking women was calling out a little boy, "Sammy come back here, I cannot handle this boy!", Mr. Samuel realising she was in distress, went closer to the women and said, "mam do you need some help", "yes if it's no trouble, my car just broke down and I have no idea what to do", she was holding the  boy by his shoulder, he had a wide grin on his face and same blue eyes as his, "I will take a look" opening the engines he whispered, "Samuel, huh,?", she nodded "that is his father's name, he died years ago, he was the kindest man I knew", Mr.Samuel trying to hold his tears muttered  "all over mam" without looking up. "Thankyou sir, and may I, know your name?",  "call me George" and then looked in to Sammy's eyes one last time, he squeezed his cheeks and whispered "be good to your mother", and continued his journey away from the town.
           
     
        

Mist.

I don't wanna slip through the cracks again,
Letting my gut hang and twist,
While I drift in abysmal mist.

When a shy guy tries to be cocky

His humour is rudeness,
He Spits venom,
trying to be funny,
His sacasms are abuses.
Silly his cover,
He hides his akwardness with.
His loudness
therapy for all the time
He could'nt speak when he wanted to.
Over compensated laughter/smile,
Nervousness's sidekick.
Proud ramblings,
Bridges over his insecure pits.
Exaggerated enthusiasm,
Needed to push his legs
Against the locks trying to hold
Him in his place.

Charlie Sheen- hiv

All I see is bigotry,
When I see them merrily 
Bashing a diseased man,
When the disease is HIV,
They make dick jokes,
Criticise the lifestyle,
"The big bloke,
had his worthwhile,
He had too many bitches",
The bitches in question are
People,
Who were pushed
To sell, for the need of a roof,
Some were fetched,
Diched, chose this,
Because they were feeble,
But that isn't the only way to get hit,
By HIV, there are newborns to
First timers.

Let's just say it is in this case,
'They should have seen
It coming, this is what you get,
When you sleep around',
So what,
"People who smoke get cancer,
Make fun of smoker with cancer,
People who live long get alzheimers,
Should'nt they have died sooner?
They have endemics don't live there!,
Accidents are bound to happen when
You drive bikes",
You don't have to sympathise,
If it's above you,
Don't fratenize with a disease
For a few likes,
And don't dance over the dying,
Eventually everyone is,
No matter how pure your life
Seems to be.

Why India should take the socialist route.

          Is democratic capitalism as efficient as it sounds or  has it been wrongly projected and squeezed in to our systems by western countries like U.S.A?.
         Capitalism is a rat race, it might look like it's more efficient, as competition among individuals means better ideas, better leadership, but it also means chaos, because when a company or an individual becomes a lead player in a particular segment, he had to probably topple down  some other player who was already on top. This gives rise to a vicious cycle where stability and peace can never be reached. Luxury, dominance and power are the trade marks of a capitalistic society, all these can never be attained unless you are ready to climb over other people.
           While countries like cuba which had a communist system may seem to lag behind in various aspects , they are well developed in healthcare, they provide food to everyone, provide them education,
If they become a socialist economy now i.e allow more private investment, but still hold the sectors like education, health, and nutrition with the government, and provide it for all it's people, it can surpass any country, they can actually be happy, peaceful and stable.   But then if they decide to dive in to captalistic economy then they might see a shift in distribution of wealth, and be left with massive inequality.
               
            

    
        
        
       
             

creatures around the house.

moth- insect

Insect- esal

Social networking is a life saver

To akward introverts like me social networking is more that just a portal for potential flirting experience or a pass time or even a photo display society.
            Social networking is to me is rehabilitation, a design which allows me to overcome disabilities like socialanxiety, "social dumbness", social inappropriateness and and be me.
          Extroverted conversations are lovely, I am sure ,but they can be very superficial they are designed for extroverts to thrive, the loudest, the most confident and the word smiths who can can easily describe their thoughts in simple term are the one's who are heared, appreciated and taken seriously. Confidence has been mistaken for intelligence for centuries, for eg the extroverted politicians gets the limelight while the introverted advicers, campaign managers are ignored. But Introverts can be very confident, even the socially anxious can fake it, but they are very less likely to do so, their confidence is not assertive but subtle.
             The social networks not only gives our feeble voices a platform but also helps to see beyond one's physical appearance, I mean the first quality that we notice about a person is usually their appearance ( evolution!!). We don't consider people beautiful, smart or sweet unless they fit in this certain criteria, and is difficult to see beyond it in the real world, but what we do not understand symmetry and muscles and bones structure are not the only faucets of beauty, but social networking actually gives people a chance to see beyond flab, beyond short, the person you are in contact with is the soul not the body, you can get to see the grumpy faced girl is not actually grumpy, the funny boy is actually deep.

I think social networking is a huge boon in other smaller ways too i.e even in other  ways than we already know and is changing the way we communicate for the better.
           

Lie

Each lie gets sowed in,
Like acid marks,
Permanently stains,
Tattooed scars,
Covered in vain,
The Radioactive ions,
That can detonate
Without notice,
Explode on your face,
Invisible chains.

Flash fiction 3 - move faggot

Move faggot
     
      "Move faggot" was the word he heared before Jeremy was shoved to the ground, 'you weakling', said Smith walking past him throwing his fist up the  air, with his entourage trailing behind laughing.
       His friend Joseph, after making sure Smith and his friends were gone came to help him up, 'are you alright man, that was seriously funny', Jeremy regaining his posture, gave him an empty look, grunted 'it probably was'. 'Come on dude, I know how Smith and his boys give you a hard time, but they are right, you are creepy, you walk and talk weird, you behave like a total sissy, man up dude'.
           Jeremy had been the butt of jokes in his school for some time now targeted mostly on his "feminine" behaviour. This has opened up an avenue for bullies like Smith to use him as a punching bag because no one feels sorry for the creepy guy.    
            He had enough of Smith's abuses, he needed to something, he had already tried complaining to his parents, they want him to man up and stand for himself, his teacher gave Smith a lousy warning and had a similar advice "man up", His friend wants him to "man up", His sister "man up", everyone wants him to man up, but he can't, he can't be rude or aggressive, he can't even raise his voice to another person. He knew that people bully whatever they fear or they think is different, so he made a plan to use his problem as his weapon.
            Smith came up to him that evening, gave a huge whack on his back and walked away, Jeremy did not startle, he call smith out "hey smithy darling, back for some love", smith turned back startled 'What did you call me you faggot' smith was red, 'I called you darling' said Jeremy and grabbed his hands and went to kiss him on the lips, Smith slapped his hand away and ran, Smith's entourage were furious 'what are you doing Jeremy?',
he replied 'you want some darling' and moved closer to grab atleast one of them, they all shrugged and swiftly moved away.
               Jeremy was not attracted to men but he wasn't covered with girlfriends anyways, so if him acting the steriotyped and feared version of a "gay guy", would make them leave him alone, until he leaves for college it was good thing.

Greener pasture

I am consuming the little time I have left to pass the very last exam in this monumentally long course on debates with my head and heart, every muscle, artery, pulse tells me that this is not my place, writing is, but my brain tells me, I am already this far and all i have is geener pasture syndrome.

Diwali story

Jothi ruins diwali.
           It was diwali, everyone was wearing new clothes, beautiful lights illuminated throughout the little street, colourful crackers roared, this was the scene jothi woke up to, when she peeked through the window at 4 am.
            'No diwali for us this year' jothi muttered to herself before getting out of bed, the festival depression pulling her out of her sleep. Some distant relative of her's died that was why the family wasn't celebrating diwali, Jothi was looking forward to this particular year because this was supposed to be the year she progresses to the explosive things, till 9 she was only trusted with fire fountains and fire circle and some fire craker sticks.
           She went down to check on her mom to see if she was awake and she was, but her mother looked blue, was coughing hard and breathing heavily, Jothi was a little concerned never having seen her like that before 'mom what happened', she replied that all the smoke was giving her allergies and it was nothing as she had been an asmatic all her life. Her little brother who was 1 and 1/2 woke up and started crying because of all the sound and her mother was trying to console him. Her father had gone for a walk so her mother had to take care of her brother all alone in her asmatic state.
                She then ran to the terrace knowing she was not useful to her mother, walked to the edge of the terrace to get a glimpse of the celebrations, but all she saw was smoke filling  the entire street, this was the first time she noticed that, then she remembered her mom and brother suffering in the ground floor, she was thinking about what she can do help them when her eyes fell on a garden pipe, she took the pipe, opened the tap, stood near the edge, pointed the pipe towards the sky and sprayed water everywhere, the neighbours who were celibrating,  assumed it was rain and ran inside their houses.
           Jothi then excitedly told her mother the story of how she sprinkled water on them and how they all stopped bursting crackers, her mother was a little angry that she spoiled their fun and gave her a stern warning, then she told her that they will come back as soon as they notice it wasn't raining, pulled her in to the bed and slept hugging her daughter, But little did she know, no one in the street
was going to burn any crackers that day as Jothi had accidentally drenched all their crackers which was put together in one huge box.

Leaves -

slabs of pearls-

green palms hugging

every drop of hope

Flash fiction 1- lost dog

Flash fiction 1

Lost dog
         Shyam was a blind 10 year old who lived his mother and maternal grandparents. His family was poor completely depended on his mother's income, her typist job was a low income gig.
         When he was 7, shyam heared a commercial on tv that said guide dogs made blind people's lives so much easier, shyam ran to his grandfather and begged him for a dog, his grandfather did not want to disappoint him by telling him that they couldn't afford to maintain one so he was given a dog, Shyam called him Mike, this was the first time shyam was in the presence of a dog, he had hardly ever been out of his house, he was home schooled.
            Shayam's grandfather suddenly became sick one day, they had to admit him in the hospital, but his frail body could not handle the pain anymore and he gave in. After the funeral, shyam and his family returned back to his house, he called Mike out having missed being with him, Mike didn't come, he usually barks when he is called. Shyam took a walking stick and searched the entire colony, but he could not find him anywhere. He asked his mother, she said he must have run away somewhere and he will come back. He couldn't not just wait and not do anything, Mike was his brother, so he took the only photo he had of Mike and him and went out to enquire, he asked a couple of passerbys if they had seen the dog in the photo, they gigled and said no, a little girl was walking by, and he showed her the photo and asked if she had seen the dog in the photo, the girl in a confused tone questioned "what dog?, I don't see a dog in the photo, all I see is you and an old man with a rope on his neck".
          
        
          

India for hindus.

            I do not believe in God, or the need for a religion so I am not supporting any  religion.
             Having said that intolerance is on the rise, I am not talking about a single occurrence, the beef ban, tattoos, anti secular slogans all over Internet, politicians being outspokenly anti muslim, anti secular, pro hindu,  I mean everyday more and more Indians  have started shouting for a country based on  hindu values "the Hindustan". These so called patriotiots have  this big probaganda that India should be for hindus and they point their fingers at countries like Saudi Arabia, UK which have certain religion based laws engraved in to their constution (if they can why can't we?).  Which are also monarchy by the way, so our next step is to appointment a king, and let him and his family feed on our blood. Just because these countries are rich don't mean they are right.
        They say we hindus have been secular all our life when no one is, and it is time to stop. Yes i agree we did go to temples, mosques, churches so did our Christian friends and the Muslim friends. We read the bible in our Christian schools, so did our buddist or muslim friends. They have chanted slogans in hindu school, watch ramayana on TV. Secularism is not just a hindu 'thing', all Indians are secular, atleast were.
        Let's just forget that  your idea of wanting to go back a few centuries and restart on being communal, intolerant again is stupid and decide to implement it, if that is what the BJP brainwashed Indians want.
             
We will have to decide who a hindu is.
              A typical tamil hindu wears dothi celebrates pongal, deepavali, deepam, talks in tamil, a typical malayali hindu, celebrates Onam, vishu, eats beef, talks in malayalam, typical assami celebrates rhonkali, ambuvasi, and talks assamese Or is the real hindu  the majority, i.e the hindhi speaking holi celibrating northeners.

What should be the typical hindu traditions.
             Should we bring back sathi?
Come on that is a very old tradition of ours.
            We should bring back manu too, we can own slaves again, the best part is these slaves would think it's their God's plan, win win right.
           But it's not really going to be a happy outing for the upper casts either.
           Bramins must give up all our luxury, and serve god, no more cars, no more burger kings, kfcs.
          All Ksthriyas should go and join the army, shoot bullets at their ugly faces.
          Child marriage is a very old tradition that must be brought back.
           Abolish all laws let karma do the trick.
 
Who should we worship.
           Shiva, Vishnu, Brahma?, What about Saraswathi, Lakshmi?, Ganapathy?.
We can't levave them out.
           We have around 30000 gods we cannot include Jesus and Allah in to this that would be blasphemy.

What are hindu monuments.
  The red fort, Taj Mahal, Charminar, St George's are not Indian, we can't have them as a part of our heritage.
        They were built be invaders who converted a vast majority of us. They were bad people. Violence did not exist before they came in, we were so peaceful, together, so in love with eachother.

What should we eat.
               We can't call samosa, briyani, gulab jamun, cakes, cookies our food,  they were incorporated in to our culture by middle eastern and western influences. We will have to decide what our food is, and stick to it, so they will know we are self sufficient, we don't need their food.

What language should we speak.
               As of now we have very few languages which had scripts before the invasion, hindhi has muhal influences, most other Indian language have some kind of a forign influence.

We should change our history books.
               There are various non hindu, kings, freedom fighters, peace keepers, scientists, politicians, writers, directors, actors, artists, who have shaped India in to what it is today, but we are a pro hindu nation we can't call their achievements as ours, they were not Indians they were invaders.

         And if we manage to separate them from us we will have mere shadows, in the process loose a few centuries of development, few million brothers and sisters, Billions of rupees.
           
        

What I have against mahabaratha

            If mahabaratha was a tale of right and wrong why did it kill thousands of innocent people in the battle for the throne. What about the families of the soldiers who died in battle for the pandavas and govravas don't they deserve their revenge, like the pandavas did?.  
          May be god is partial and believes only the elites have the right to live?.

          

Am I addicted.

Addictions and obsessions.

Seductive webs
Suspended in space,
Spiral, oblique,
Linear and whorled,
In all patterns and  shapes,
With innate abilities,
To lure preys,
But not every web
Gets in the way,
And Not everyone
Falls in its trey,

Those who do
Have cuiosity sensors,
This need to explore,
Rebel, dig the dirt,
Ones with hard shells,
Sharp claws manage
To break free,
And grow in strength.
The rest with fragile wings,
Vulnerable hearts,
Dangle infinitely.

How to read palms

Hold the palm,
Caress like the leaves
Over wind,
But,
Ignore the hardness,
Of the skin,
The sound of metal,
Or their softness,
The Battles with ink,
The crooked nails,
The triggers they pulled,
Some rounded and polished,
Fine parlour gossips,
Tobacco stains,
Clouds of thought,
Hardened pulps,
Codes of will,
Blakened and burned,
Coals they hoarded,
Or the soups poured,
Tummies filled,
Cuts and bruises,
Broken fuses,
Ignore them all,
Trace the lines on
The palms,
Folds of skin,
When the embryo
was developing,
cook up their future,
And past,
By the length of the
Fold marks

Wear your weaknesses

Wear your weaknesses like a shield
They said, I did,
What they didn't say,
Is my shield will enclose
me in a field of cotton,
From which I can never move.

Complicated things- poetry

I have this knack for complicating things,
For example,
When they say,
An apple a day
keeps the doctor away,
An apple what kind of an apple,
Green or red?
If red has it got something
To do with our blood?,
Anyways why is blood red?,
Why isn't it green?
Green is everything fresh,
The grass,
The sign of new life,
The trees,
It's blue's wife,
The leaves,
The parrot, the cricket,
The pitch in cricket,
The good traffic sign,
Is all green,
But if away really means
So far away,
I mean,
Your are dead,
You skin is rotting,
With maggots and worms,
Eye are blotting and blurry,
Riding a giant ferry,
Made of lead,
What if lead dosen't float?
Ok made of wood,
Over the volcanic lava,
Trodding to the gates of hell,
But wood will burn,
But you are all dead anyway,
So you are far away
from the doctor,
There can't be doctors in hell,
They aren't sinners they save lives,
But  all doctors can only be either
A Muslim, Christian or a jew,
Even a hindu,
So if the "real God",
Finds out the the doctor hasn't
Been worshiping him,
His ass is gonna be handed
In a plate,
And hell is his fate.

So an apple a day
keeps the doctor away,
So an apple a day
keeps the doctor away?.

Hits me- poetry

To the guy with the
Rolled up sleeves,
Metal arms,
And Cold stare,
I know you are out to
Get me.

When you and your
Friends hang around,
Near my dorm balcony,
To puff out huge
clowds of grey,
I could feel your
Cold stare has infected,
them in some way,
Your unnecessary hate,
Carved in with malacious,
Blades.
All ganged up
To hunt the poor sucker
Down- Me.

I didn't sleep that night
Waiting for you and your
Gang of goons,
To slow up,
I was ready.
With a wooden stick,
In one hand, and a plastic
Hanger in the other,
I kept slashing the Air,
to learn single stick,
Double stick, takewondo,
Anything I could,
To defend myself,
Even when my eyelids,
Like locked shudders,
Refused to open,
My arms like rubber tubes,
Hanged,
Legs about to collapse,
I kept on.
But no one showed up.

The next day I saw you,
And your mouth curled to
A C,
What looked like a smile,
Put a stop to the bang
That kept hitting my chest,
My head which felt like
An hot owen till then,
started to melt.

When paranoia hits me,
I am not myself,
It gives me this sunglasses,
When every soul is
A threat,
Every giggle an insult,
Every hand is out to
Pull me down,
And everyday an
Opportunity for
new conspiracy,
And he has this friend,
Who creeps from his shadows,
Holds you by the neck,
Hauls you upside down in
In his cave,
Leaves you scratching the
Walls for your dear life,
To see some kind of a light,
Anxiety leaves you paralysed,
Disabled, breathless.
And next time worser.

An idea- poetry

When an idea presents,
It changes you,
A thought assimilated,
An event happend,
It changes you,
You are new,
You can't choose to go back,
See the unseen, undo what you did,
You have trespassed, unexplored territory,
You could either progress further,
Explore more, or you could
Choose to cover it with
Long sleeves, pretend nothing happened,
Ignore the bite,
Until one day it becomes a scar,
And hope the scar dissappears,
You might pull of the deceptive
Smile,
For a while, but you know,
That you know, or what you did,
what you said or what you hid,
The thing,
clearly consealed in the back
Of your head,
Lying dormant for years
Making you think it had
Left without a trace
has Changed you,
For better or for worse,
How big or small,
It has left it's mark
You are new.

Lose weight in 10 days

The fat man's rants..

I ran behind the bus,
Till it stops,
And in I popped,
Swetty and breathless,
Strolling to the
Only seat unoccupied,
The lady on the window side,
Wide eyed exclaims,
"There is no space".

I with a broken leg,
After falling,
In so much  pain,
Gritting my teeth and
Clenching my fist,
To  make it go away,
All in vain,
The paramedic grinning,
"No wonder the small fall,
broke your leg".

We play little cricket games,
Everyone gets a place,
Even one's who never touched
A bat,
I either don't get
Picked or picked last.

People love shopping,
they go crazy,
But It was my
biggest nightmare,
I hardly got a cloth
That fit perfectly,
The sales people
Will look akwardly,
As I threw away
Every last cloth they
Give me.

Just  me walking,
Puts laughter, giggles,
On peoples faces,
Not because I am popular,
But to them,
I am a walking barrel,
A meat loaf with legs,
A collage of pathetic
And clumsiness in
Syncrasy,
I was to them an amusement.

And fun conversations,
Usually involve friends,
Calling  eachother
names,
giant, fart head,
Lazy ass,
Inflating baloon,
No class,
Clumsy, Untidy,
A blackhole,
That takes everything in.
I laugh shamelessly.
It is all assumed, as,
I am fat.

I loved this girl,
I didn't believe
I deserved her,
I wanted respect,
I didn't believe,
I deserved it,
I wanted to socialise,
Be brave,
Roar on stage,
Ooze confidence,
Pour love everywhere,
But my weight held me back.
I am fat.

But,
One day the world turned,
Upside down,
Literally,
Everyone started zooming
In to space, all their
Tiny frames
Dissappeard without trace,
I held on,
As I had more mass,
I occupied more space.
There was nobody around,
After all
the mourning stopped,
I started feeling more alive,
Than I ever was,
I was happy,
I was still fat,
(I did not loose my weight toiling,
There was "More food less people"! duh)
There just was no one else to love,
No one else to please,
No standards to live up to,
I was my love, I was my king,
I was my dream.

I like this girl- poetry

He liked this girl, She didn't know he exists,
Also, he had no guts
To go,
And say "hey,
may I? borrow your record,
And, may be add you to my
friends List",
Because, you can't go to a girl
And say "I love you",
That is a taboo,
Desperate, uncivilised,
Strightforward.
You have to play mind
Games first,
He didn't know,
How?. So
He send her love letters,
Everyday,
Hoping she would one day,
Ask him
"Hey, stop, what do you want",
Then he would say "You,
I want you, you, you.
You, to be the last person I talk to everyday,
yours to be text, I eagerly wait for every morning.
Spending time lazying with
You the idea of a perfect weekend.
You to be the Person, I will dig the ends of the earth, To pick the perfect birthday present for.
Your breath surrounding the air around me,
Your hands holding every adventure we walk,
Your scent in all my sheets all seats, clothes.
With you a family,
And to you, the last goodbye, yet happy, knowing that I will live on, in your touch, scent, breath".
But she never asked him what he wanted,
All she said was stop,
He did stop,
May be too many times,
But he did stop.

Poetry- black and white.

Only Indians will understand.
You scratch, bleech, paint even pray to be a bit farer, this little horror is because every movie and magazines
You have ever seen.
Shows white as beautiful, black as ugly, white as pure, black as dirty, white as light and black as darkness, the magestic  prince and beautiful princess are all somehow fucking  white.
But you should know,
White is also imperialism, slavery, war, discrimination,  arrogance, a plain canvas, a blank paper a bully.
Black is tolerance, survival, camaflauge,
Hard work, distinction, the contrast, hip hop, jazz, free style, spoken words poetry, the beautiful night,
And brown used to have an identity,
Now it is trying to be white.
You would rather get cancer than be you!!.

Do strikes really work?

Strikes have always been a form of right to freedom of speech.
An opportunity for the muffled voices to be heared.
Poking at the authority, keeping them in check.
To give problems a spotlight.
         It is these strikes that bought us our freedom, it is this outburst against inefficiency that has created so many changes, and has molded the world we live in today.
         But now strikes seem to be nothing more than, daily occurrences. News in a corner of a "not so important" section of news papers (unless these is some action, abuse, violence), which the government gives permission to conduct at a certain venue and people limit to show how tolerant or how democratic they are.
         But do these strikes really cause fear in the governments, keep them in check?. Are these strikes anything more than just publicity stunts for parties and students bodies, to show people they care and they are out there?. Why is that these strikes seem to happen around a topic that is so right now I.e something that is so hot in the media that the government is already under massive pressure to do something?, what happened to the idea of giving voice to the voiceless?, and if those striking can amass so many people why and really care about the issue, why can't they become a part of the solution, why can't act  instead of shouting, protesting?.
         The governments have become so used to them that they just don't seem to care, "ok it's just them, do we have anything important?". The strikes are now more of a hinderance than a boon to the public, and to the governments a Mosquito bite, and to the media, paper fillers.

    

The story of Indian currency

           The First signs of Indian currency was found in dwaraka (which according to mahabaratha is where Lord Krishna ruled), these coins called as mudras carbon date to 5 th century bc.

                Then there has been records of Indo Greek Coins which bear the architecture of Greeks, But bears the symbol of Indians.These have a charecteristic square shape, with either potriats of authority, or animals like bull.

                       Then there are records of coins being used by  Mauriya dynasty from 300 bc, these coins usually contain a mauriyan king with a bow, the coins were considered to be one of the first record of preserved fine Indian art, as they have multiple varieties and have been crafted to very incredible detail. 

This was also the time when the word rupiah is considered to have been widely used, the word is derived from either sanscrit or dravidian word Rupa meaning a silver coin.

                 The word had been mentioned by Chanakya the minister of Chandra Guptha Mauria in his book, he also mentions that there were, gold, silver, copper and lead coins and they all have different names, gold coins (Suvarnarupa), copper coins (Tamararupa) and lead coins (Sisarupa).

                  During the middle ages the Rajputian coins were used widely they usually contained an image of the goddess Lakshmi with four hands, unlike the Maurian's which had only two. (600-1200 AD).

                       The Alf coins by the muhal emperor Jalal uh din Muhammad fondly known as Akbar bears the period and the dynasty to mark history. (In 16 centuryAD)

                       The coins minted during the period of Marathi King Chatrapathi Shivaji

               The first paper currencies were introduced by the British, during the middle of 18 th century by the bank of Hindostan.

                      During the post independence period, each rupee was subdivided in to 16 annas, 64 pisa, 192 pies.

                         After Independence particularly 1957 each rupee was divided in to 100 naye paisa, and naye was stopped from use after 1964. Then rupee fought two major inflation in 1966 and 1991, but survived all that and still seems to be going strong. That is how rupee got its name fame, shape, and everything, it's also the official currency in Pakistan and Sri Lanka, not Indian rupees per say but rupees ( you get the point don't you?).

The story of money

               Money was not always the way people traded their goods or services, in the ancient times it was the barter system, people gave away what they had for what they wanted, this didn't always work as whatever they have might not be in demand so they would be left to starve.
           
              One of the oldest currencies known to man was  Anatolian obsidian a hard glass mineral which existed in 12000 bc i.e during stone age people gave away this stone in exchange of other stone's "me needs that caved thingy, I give this shiney thingy".

             Cattle and grains were used as money in 10000 bc and was used as late as the mid 20 century AD in Africa.
       "Moo" "Moo" "Moo".

Roman Silver coin

Chinese paper money

Lydia

         Then gold was a widely used form of money as everyone desired gold, soon gold coins were made by smiths.

         First form of Banks existed in Babilonia at around 3000 bc in the form of temples and palaces to store grain, cattle, precious metals.
 "How did the cattle not eat the grain?"

     

  Cowrie shells were used as currencies in China at  1200 bc, they were also in Africa and other parts of Asia.

First coins were supposedly minted in Lydia which is in middle east, the currency was made of gold and silver  it existed in 600 bc.
       " Roman phylosophers criticised the idea called it capitalism". But soon joined the party and started giving loans for interests in 400 bc.

      Around 250 bc Chinese cash coins were introduced, these were made of copper with a circle or square in the middle, these were state made. These were one of the first state owned coins made, along with the India and Lydia.

       Jewish temple coins had been around since 0 AD ,which was the only money allowed to be spent in and around the temple, pilgrims were supposed to exchange their currency for the copper coins.  "was probably a secret  scam to collect gold and silver made in Rome and Greece".

        At 1000 AD paper money in China was introduced, which unfortunately stopped after 500 years of use after repeated inflations and reforms. ( we have been using paper currencies foe only around 200 years we still have time to reach that point ).

        In 1619's Tobacco money was widely used in Virginia after just 100 years after its introduction there.
       The gold Smith paper bonds were introduced in 1650's which formed the basis of morden banking which is for an another day.
     Soon countries started minting their own currencies in 1700, bank of England was one of the first to do so. That is how the present day money was born.

A block

When you sit to write
Something down,
But a lump waits
In your throat
And you can't swallow,
Throw around paints
But the colours
Don't mix,
Everything seems like
A mockery
Not art,
When you try and weave
Something magical,
A beethovan's symphony,
Perhaps,
But tragically,
What comes out,
Is a mediocre sound,
That already exist.
No storm
Surrounds,
no sounds,
No secret pathways
Open,
No new lands,
Just you broken,
Down to
Your ordinary self,
No inspirational dance,
No trump of creation,
no pleasures of immortality,
A block.

Non violence

All and any notion,
How great it may be,
loses it's value,
When you use
The same force,
You fight against,
To attain it,
Contain them,
And deem you fit.
You fight against,
Oppression,
Slavery,
For your right to live,
But
Build it over blood,
And slaughter,
By manipulation,
Fear, force and weapons.
Though the battle seems to
have ended,
That war is never ending,
Prey becoming the predator,
Is hardly called winning.
You riding over,
The one that rode you,
Treat them like trash,
Letting them rot
Till they are blue,
Burning them in sun,
Till they turn to ash,
Battle seems to have ended,
The War is never ending.
Prey becoming the predator,
Is hardly called winning.
The victory will have no pride,
No one leaves happy,
Not even you,
Unleashing one's fury,
Erecting a blackening hue,
Hunting them down,
Till they they can't shout,
Till they can't stand,
Till they bow,
The victory will have
No life
Have no love,
It will  have blood smeared,
O'er your hands throught the future,
From now.
Leaving your children with rage,
Their's Thirsty for revenge.