Attitude

I was not bad since my birth

This world forced me to be

I loved a girl with purest heart

And met the common tragedy

She said I am not good enough

But I was always best to her

I took care of her every dream

But follies I guess, she refers

Oceans of tears I drank

In depths of depression I sank

To get back to what I was

Evil was the pillar on which I bank

Hatred was what I began to deal

And it was all to abridge my grief

That’s the story of my being disliked

And birth of an unwanted thief.

I don’t share a different story

Our grieves, I suppose are same

But unlike me you are being hated

Your attitude is what I’ll blame

To avoid my tears I used laughter

I made others too to laugh

To hide my few despotic emotions

I painted my face on smile’s behalf

Despite the pains hidden inside

I am called a depression broker

That is how I still respect my love

And that is how I became a joker.

Buddy! I shrunk the kids!

“I have heard you are giving lectures to the students,” said Professor NKK in disgust, “I have heard you are giving lectures about Physics. I have heard you connect things to the real world and explain the laws of Physics. I have heard you are not giving notes!”

“Ha ha ha.” Laughed Professor RRS.

“I am sorry, sir.” said JS, in a low voice, “I always get confused about how to spend those 55 minutes.”

“Which 55 minutes?”

“All those 55 minutes.”

“How many such 55 minutes you get?”

“4 to 5 everyday, sir.”

“What about having a cup of tea with us?”

“I don’t drink tea sir, not for 55 minutes.”

“Ha ha ha.” Laughed Professor RRS.

“This guy is insane.” declared professor PMT.

“No madam, I am young. I am new.” defended JS.

“Look kid, the more you’ll teach, the more you’ll confuse them. Give them notes and finish things off!” NKK started again.

“But sir, don’t you think, it is our duty to teach them well. They can find notes from anywhere. The key is to build their concepts.”

“Ha ha ha.” Laughed Professor RRS.

“I told you, this guy is insane!” PMT interfered.

“Indeed you are new kid.” NKK concluded.

“I told you, I am, sir!”

“You haven’t told me, you told Professor PMT!”

“Oh! I am sorry sir!”

“Look JS” NKK leaned forward in superiority, “understand the system. Let things go, as they are going. Those kids will do well with their life. They are the one who needs to bother. Why are you taking pain to build their concepts?”

“Because he is insane!” PMT said.

“Ha ha ha” laughed Professor RRS, “ha ha ha.”

“Sir, because, doing well with one’s life isn’t sufficient for our country. The future prospects are getting damaged, with this action of ours.”

“Oh! He is insane.”

“Ha ha ha.”

“Look boy” started NKK, “I am putting it straight. Yesterday, in the laboratory, a student asked me to explain him the mechanism of Kater’s pendulum.”

“So?”

“So?”

“Yes. So?”

“Oh God, this guy is insane! I can’t keep on feeding them with spoon every time. They need to find it by themselves!”

“Yes! I told you, this guy is insane!”

“Ha ha ha.”

“So, what can I do in it?” asked JS in a puzzled expression.

“You can do many things by not doing anything.” Said NKK.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s because you are insane.” Told PMT

“Ha ha ha.” Laughed RRS.

“You are teaching them well. It is raising their expectations.”

“I suppose, that is why I am here.”

“No! You are here because you were qualified for being here.”

“But what they need my qualifications for?”

“To teach.”

“And that is what, I am doing.”

“No! You are not just teaching. You are teaching well!”

“They needed those qualifications for not to teach well?”

“Yes!”

“How can you say so?”

“I am not teaching well and they didn’t not need me. You are teaching well and you are in trouble.”

“How am I in trouble?”

“You are on ad hoc!”

“So?”

“I am the vice-principal too. You are in trouble.”

“I got it! What I need to do?”

“You just didn’t need to do anything.”

“Okay. But what I am supposed to do?”

“You have to start drinking tea.”

“Ha ha ha.” Laughed Professor RRS.

“What else?”

“Be our pal. Be our buddy. You’ll be always safe.”

“I got it!”

It was already late. The professors broke the daily meeting and went home. Next morning, in the similar manner, NKK, RSS, PMT along with few other Professors but JS, were discussing about the same topic they left in between, the previous day when suddenly the door opened. It was JS who was just coming after a class. Unlike everyday, he gave the students notes and said proudly-

“Buddy, I shrunk the kids!”

Mind on sale

Thoughts are playing in my mind

Like a homely feeling

But like a home it never acted

My mind has always been a resort or so

Every minute it was open for all

Few glories inspired

Few glints were bold

But mind was weak

For an owner to hold

Thoughts just come

And thoughts just go

My mind has always been a resort or so

The rain which showers me

Will just drench me tomorrow

But it’s not the water that transformed

Rain drops should not be blamed

But it’s the fickle head

A thought it should have claimed

Whom to invite

Like or dislike

A home should always know

My mind has always been a resort or so

The day I’ll make strict rules

The day I’ll organize my mind

The day I’ll posses an owner

I’ll be dangerous or I’ll be kind

But I’ll be free from all confusions

And that’s what all I know

Either I’ll keep you in my heart forever

Or will hurt you for once and go

But momentary wisdom pops, enjoys and fly

My mind has always been a resort or so

An 'unforgettable' phone call

Leo: (Pause) Hello! Hello! (Pause) Hello!

Sanju: Hello! Who is this?

Leo: My name is Leonard Shelby. Are you Sanjay Singhania?

Sanju: Yes. How do you know me?

Leo: Are you bald with distorted eight pack abs? And do you have weird tattoos all over your body? Is that you?

Sanju: Yes! Yes, I presume. But I am not bald! I have a peculiar strip in my hairs running till behind my head. And that tattoo…(snobbish laugh). . .

Leo: Yes, what about the tattoo?

Sanju: That’s a tricky one! When looked in mirror, it says ‘KALPANA WAS KILLED’…(snobbish laugh). . .

Leo: Whatever!

Sanju: But how do you know all this?

Leo: I have a picture of you below which is written in bold ‘POTENTIAL FRIEND’.

Sanju: What? Do you have the picture? Please, please try looking it in the mirror. You’ll surely find the tattoos tricky. ‘KALPANA WAS KILLED’. Really tricky!

Leo: Who is Kalpana?

Sanju: Don’t know. I forgot.

Leo: Oh!

Sanju: So?

Leo: I am wondering about how can you be a potential friend. Do we have anything in common?

Sanju: Maybe.

Leo: Let me check it out. What are your hobbies?

Sanju: I don’t remember.

Leo: Which is your favorite sport?

Sanju: I forgot.

Leo: Favorite color?

Sanju: Aaaa…mmm..just a second..aa..I ..I..I don’t know.

Leo: Favorite cuisines?

Sanju: I couldn’t recall?

Leo: Oh! Sad!

Sanju: Forget about me. You tell me about some of your peculiar habits.

Leo: I don’t really have much peculiar habits. One of which..aaa..you can say…aaa…a habit that I forget things too quickly!

Sanju: Oh! I am afraid, it doesn’t really seem we have any common traits. I think that the picture has a wrong caption. Who gave it to you?

Leo: I don’t remember.

Sanju: Then I really think, there is no way we could figure out anything common between us.

Leo: Don’t say that! I am really alone. I need a friend.

Sanju: Then go and look out in your neighborhood!

Leo: Oh! They are bunch of faggots! It pisses me off to see their fake appearances.

Sanju: Fake personalities turn me off too! But what happened?

Leo: One of their ugliest habits is to shed crocodile-tears over lost mementos. As if they have lost all access to the connected people.

Sanju: Oh yes! That over-acting! Oh what to say? It really pisses me off!

Leo: Hey! I guess, we actually have something in common! We get pissed off over similar issue!

Sanju: Oh yes, sheer observation!

Leo: Friends?

Sanju: Best friends!

Leo: Really?

Sanju: Of course!

Leo: Oh my dear friend Sanjay!

Sanju: I wish I could hug you and begin our friendship!

Leo: It has already begun!

Sanju: What has already begun?

Leo: Hello!?

Sanju: What has already begun?

Leo: What!?

Sanju: You were saying right now! What has already begun?

Leo: Who are you?

Sanju: Is it a kind of plot against me? Is it my countdown timer, which has begun? What has already begun? Who are you?

(Beep! Beep! Beep!)

Sanju: Hello! Hello! Hello! Pick up the phone! What has already begun?

A letter to my oldest poem

Oh! My old creation

You’ll be certainly happy to know

The compliments that I missed on you

Now often comes in a row

It all started with you

You are the first rung of my ladder

But in the interim of my climbing

I kept on getting better

I don’t see you often

But I am not now floating in air

I am nothing but an adolescent author

That is all your fonts declare

You still are dearest

Coz commotions you contain are core

I adorn them now with artificial attentions

Just to come on fore

After gathering fame

Publicizing you will be worthwhile

Coz all my unstructured phrases

Will then be coined as a style

I now know them well

You’ll be surely awarded with merit

Coz what looks simple and unattractive

They simply call it esoteric

From ‘Desi Katta’ to ‘Dragunov’

With the passage of time, we the people kept on getting so result oriented, that our own dear ‘Desi-Katta’ has been replaced almost entirely by ‘Dragunov’. Now few might debate, why not Dragunov when it’s unanimously better? And that very question is the origin of this write-up.

All I can do but update a, ‘I am missing facebook’, status on facebook. I had never thought that this simple ‘I am missing facebook’ is such a catchy line but yes, if you’ll examine me using even a flawless lie-detector, I’ll clear it with my ‘I am missing facebook’ feeling. It was a tremendous, if not less, source of topics to ponder upon. And yes I was extremely careful while adding the adjective ‘worthy’ with the word ‘topics’. What? You couldn’t find? Never mind! In the real world, where God is not Zuckerberg, people are less philosophical, even less talkative and less social. Amidst this excess of ‘less’, it was this night, a few days back, where I luckily found something.

At a small get together of friends with a pair of ‘more than friends’, enjoying at the intelligently designed terrace of some intelligent house owner, the pair of ‘more than friends’, begun rising to the higher degree of ‘dear’, with every sip of the Royal Challenge. They went past ‘dearest’ in a peg. When the driver, Royal Challenge in this case, got strict, soon the adjectives turned to verbs of kisses and hugs. Have I already made you familiar with the phrase ‘more than friends’? Yes, it’s the social and diplomatic synonym of earlier used phrases like ‘no strings attached’, ‘friends with benefits’, etc. To define it even further, the relation defined under this phrase, is often characterized as having two people at different level of intensity. One of them, the poorer one, is always committed. Now coming back to the same point where the story went off course, it was this guy who snobbishly, somewhat subconsciously, entitled them with another phrase of ‘Desi Katta’, with great care of the decibels. It wasn’t meant for anybody else to listen but I suppose, the care wasn’t that great.

Now just for a while, let’s talk about this less careful guy, and since we can presume that this guy hates ‘Desi Katta’, let’s for the time being, call him ‘Mr. Dragunov’. If I am not wrong in inferring the meaning of this trendy phrase, it could probably mean someone with a limited range of, may be, thoughts, who can not act like a ‘Dragunov’, who is sluggish at adapting the western civilization or precisely, who is slow in broadening his/her mind. Mr. Dragunov also uses some synonyms of that phrase, among which the most popular and trendy one is ‘Jamna-paar’. Applying a bit of logical reasoning, even any Ordinary Joe can tell that what he means is every individual living across the other side of the river Yamuna, is a ‘Desi Katta’. But what he always fails to interpret is the actual data of that ‘Desi Katta’s who with every passing year are widening their range and crossing the Yamuna in enormous numbers. And also he is unaware of the disguised ‘Desi-Katta’-ism he is practicing. Surprisingly, he himself has never been to the other side of the Yamuna! How limited is the range of Mr. Dragunov!

A few days back, while I still had an access to the ‘worthy’ topics to ponder upon, I saw a video on facebook, where the intelligence, to be precise, memory, of a young, hardly a bottle-ridden girl, was on expo by her presumed Dragunov-mom, who was the camerawoman. Examine me again under the same lie-detector and again I’ll do well with ‘The girl had a real fine memory’. She had learned and retained so many stuffs at that budding age of three, that she almost had acquired a habit of learning things. Believe me, the girl was trying real hard to look cute, but all she showed comprised few retained stuffs of our constitution and few unnatural looking retained acts of cuteness.

And since now I am myself weary of recollecting and sewing stuffs together and also I am tired of this write-up, let me come to the prior question.

A ‘Desi Katta’ has all the emotions twined up in it. It is based on the principle that animosity is never heavier than a life. It has the property to satisfy both the sides. You can shoot a person and spill all your anger but at the same time you are also giving him an option to survive. And even if it kills the other guy, unlike Dragunov, you’ll never get rid of the emotions and expressions of that dying person. At least you’ll give him time to die. Time to speak something he always wanted to. Imagine, ‘Hey Ram’ would never have got so famous, if Godse would have used Dragunov!

Now how about reconsidering the goodness of ‘Desi Katta’?

The article is really turning out to be a pain for me, so please take some pain on your side to watch Equilibrium, if you want to attain an idea of emotion less future.

P.S. Christian Bale has an amazing skill of expressing emotions!

Please do not copy

Don’t think of an elephant. Now an elephant is what you are thinking of! (Except for few, who might be thinking of the movie.) A similar inception of thoughts took place when my sometimes vile* flat-mate planted the idea of ‘why am I studying?’ by uttering immeasurably the exact opposite of it. He might have engaged himself back again to his books but the butterfly effect of his pee-wee comment click-opened the wiki page of my life which accommodates a cyclone of unexplored sub-links.

Tangling down deeper in nested sub-links, where most of them are impertinent to give an account of, it was the thought of core-competency where I took a halt. Now core-competency is something which you cannot improvise in your extemporaneous interview. Improvise? Yes! When it comes to interview, improvise is a word, you deliberately relate to. Anyways, well acquainted with the third round of my belling-the-cat game, I found it worth spending time on, despite of my few earlier futile attempts. It was all part of the game, after all.

They were those people who take pride in juxtaposing and pinning down the similarities of a child with that to of his parents disregarding all of his/her authenticity, who taught me the use of control + c, way before I was aware of it. If one needs appreciation, he needs attention at the fore. He accrues attention by doing what he is expected to do. And all he is expected to do is to reflect the traits of his parents, preferably father. Father, probably because he is relatively successful. What else a child need but attention and appreciation? Henceforth, the control + c, begins.

I, being a younger son, on the other hand, had a bit freedom of choice to copy. The extra option which my brother failed to enjoy was he himself. But when your brother is so able-bodied, alive and kicking, you need to put extra efforts and give extra time for copying. I did so. I put extra efforts in putting extra efforts in copying. I was a full-time employee at the copying business. I got so busy with copying that I forgot to think that I can think on my own as well. For the matter of fact, this article is more or less marks an impression (a better term for copy) of him. If it weren’t him, I probably would have been writing a love-letter, or a saga of a shattered heart in lieu of structuring the introspection. In fact, all what good I am is attributed only to that copying business and all what bad I am is attributed to the failures in it. But apart from copying make things a piece of cake, it also draws curtains on one’s views and visions, conjointly. For instance, Dhruv was my brother’s favorite for lots of unconventional reasons and Dhruv was my favorite for one and only one reason. Yes! Of course! He was my brother’s favorite. He aspired for engineering for he was excellent with Physics. And I aspired for engineering for I was excellent at copying business!

So, that was the first, the control + c, phase of my life.

The second phase started when my brother moved to a better city in order to meet his visionary aspiration and I was left with no him to copy. But till then, I had moved so forward with copying, that going back and start all over again seemed herculean and counterproductive too. So what all I did in the second phase of my life was editing. Yes! Over the time I acquired such an excellence in blue-penciling that copying and editing became my core-competency. I could read a novel and edit the author’s style to invent a new presentable turn of phrase. I could pick up raag darbaari and improvise it with pleasant variations. I could see a sketch and animate it with precise shades. I put all my creativity in editing a created stuff. It wasn’t supposed to mention but I signed my graduation’s practical files, all by myself. It was then when I realized that I can copy signatures in three trials. And it was then when I realized that my core-competency is not worthless, for there were students who were ready to pay a treat for signing their files as well.

So, that was the second, the blue-penciling, phase of my life.

With an autonomous smile, probably the accolade of actualization, I front towards my same pleasant flat-mate only to discover that he was busy with his own core-competency. If slumber could be a business, I bet he would be the richest Indian if not more!

*Everybody is unpleasant at times.

P.S: The inference of my core-competency from the two phases of my life, I suppose, itself has marked the inception of the third phase.

Eternal sunset of the chaotic mind

Remark: Have an eyeful glance of Comfortably dumb, before continuing.

Unlike the village of restrictions, bouncers in the city of acceptance are real who are busy guarding bars, pubs and discotheques. Minds here are bouncers-less. Minds here are locker-less. In fact, minds here are door-less. A man from the city of acceptance has an open mind. As open, as a thoroughly thrashed talented whore who can give a thought for anything. For whom, nothing is big enough. Who welcomes everything! Who sees no shape, who sees no size and who sees no qualifications! Just, everything! He allows everything but the bouncers, because he hates bouncers. He hates bouncers because he loves pubs, bars and discotheques. He loves pubs, bars and discotheques because there, he turns weird. He loves to get weird.

He sighs on familiar ideas and pays heed to the unfamiliar ones. He pays heed to unfamiliar ideas because on first note they look weird and unlike the man from the village of restrictions, he loves to go weird. He titillates on new ideas but never materializes them. He never materializes them because not materializing a titillating idea is a weird thing to do and a weird thing to do is all what he loves to do. Moreover, before he materializes any new idea, he gets familiar with it and when he hears a familiar idea, he sigh them off. He only pays heed to the unfamiliar ones.

He sleeps in the dawn and he wakes up after dusk. He works between dawn and dusk. He tries hard to make his schedule sound weird. He hangs weird paintings and derives weird syllogism from them. He gets a weird appetite at weird hours. He dresses weirdly and has a weird haircut. In a weird crowd he shakes weirdly at weird beats of some weird song. He uploads weird status on facebook and gets a thread of weird comments by other of his few weird inhabitants of the same city of acceptance. When taking part in a discussion, he chooses the weirder side and gives weirdest arguments. His thoughts are so weirdly arranged that his mind forms up to be weirdly hallow. He thinks that he is not weird.

He generally doesn’t like the man from the village of restrictions. He didn’t like him because he thinks that he is weird. He thinks that the man from the village of restrictions is weird because he doesn’t do weird stuffs. He doesn’t think more about the man from the village of restrictions because thinking more of the familiar man brings sigh to his face.

He never takes rest. Taking rest seems weird to him because it prohibits him from doing various weird options he has. His mind is so open, it keeps on allowing dissatisfaction. He has allowed so much dissatisfaction that they keep on not allowing satisfaction. He never stays calm. He never gets content. He never gets calm and content because getting calm and content is not a weird thing to get. In tail years of his life, he looks back and moans about how weirdly he has spent his years. His achievement looks small and weird to him.

After achieving more than the man from the village of restrictions, he still dies in dissatisfaction. That’s weird!

Comfortably dumb

A man from the village of restrictions has mind, a mind, which is conveyed by toughest of the bouncers. When I say bouncers, I literally mean, men with 20 inches of biceps and rareness of reasonability to whom words like ‘why’ and ‘how’ occurs as often as a chemical fourth-order reaction. To them, every unfamiliar thought is a strange thought and every strange thought is a weird thought. The man from the village of restrictions generally stays calm, composed and easy until he meets an unfamiliar idea and when he meets an unfamiliar idea, he gets strangely weird. He rarely argues. He generally shouts. He generally shouts because he can’t argue. To argue, he needs new thoughts, to hustle new thoughts, he needs to get rid of those bouncers and to get rid of those bouncers, he needs to argue with himself. But he compromises with this catch and generally stays calm. He compromises because he is unaware of the catch. He is unaware of this catch because he never gave a thought. He never gave a thought because it is an unfamiliar idea and with every unfamiliar idea, he gets strangely weird. Therefore, he generally stays calm. He believes, he doesn’t fickle between thoughts. But he never think, that he doesn’t posses many thoughts because thinking of not possessing much thought is an unfamiliar thought which drives him strangely weird and he is a man who loves to stay calm.

He thinks he is better than the man who lives in the city of acceptance. He thinks so because he feels so. He feels so on the basis of many such small feelings, he is obsessed with. Yes, he generally ‘feels’ what he thinks he is ‘thinking’. He feels that the man who lives in the city of acceptance is a liar and immoral. He also feels that he is selfish and can never be trusted. He feels that what all he feels is true. He also feels that the man from the city of acceptance has no feelings.

Altogether he is a happy man because he feels that an acre of land, a hard-working wife and a bunch of other men from the village of restrictions, who never talk about new things, comprises a happy life. He always sits idly, because he feels that grabbing time to sit idly from the busy life is the utmost goal and greatest achievement. At his death-bed, he feels very content and satisfied about his achievements of working hard to gather a lot of time when he didn’t work and sat idly.

He dies happily!

P.S.: The man from the city of acceptance is not far away. In fact, he is a click away!