Saturday, May 29, 2010


You ought to find out. You are nothing special. You are nothing unique or worth saving. You are the singing dancing hating laughing toilet of this universe. Your inventions and feelings mean nothing to the cosmos; not even to me, and I am here right next to you; holding your hands and telling you to kiss me. The world is false; and so are your perceptions. You are trash, stinking holding your shit inside proudly and running away from it the very moment it comes out of you. You are the epitome of the hypocrite
You shake your head and inside think you are smarter some how; from the rest of this universe. You are the product of carnal rage, you are a Neanderthal looking how to become grace?
Take a look inside; you are not anything worth anything, you shouldn't be here, you should not exist. Your purpose is non-existent, and you have no role to play in the larger scheme of anything. Living day to day in your mall existence, shopping for clothes cause you are so full of shame to even display your naked god given state.
You blame your destruction on god, take the praise for yourself. You ask for help when your world breaks down one brick at a time, and cruise in your car splashing muck at everyone when you are made.
Fuck you and your money, your time is uselessly wasted.. You are no good, creating work when there is no work to be done... killing nature cause you cant be free. You think armani is your savior, and Wall street is your church.
You will fall.. for you procreate without thought; You will be burned and crushed; decapitated and amputated; lobotomized and kept six feet under for the fate of our future race... Inconsequential just like the millions who died over and over, time again and again.. It is not tragic; It is inconsequential. Just like you; take another look at the mirror showing your pretty decked up face. See it one last time, and tear it apart with your fingers if you have any respect left for yourself.
I am guessing you will put on some more make up to hide the shake up which is NOT your life ever.

War is peace
No is Yes
and we are all free
-Tracy Chapman

The End

Aint got no money, to live in peace. Dont have no body to come and comfort me.
Everyone tapped down to a coffin one after another; god kept me to cry without peace. Every single day
Dont have a car or a house to call my own. Dont have no new clothes to cover this naked lump of clay waiting to dissolve.
There were the times in my life; which I called golden, but didnt read the signs all too clear; Sometimes yea; falling does feel like flying, till its all too late.
Never cared for friends or family; rotten lives rotting on me, Breaking bread didn't interest me nor did making bread.
Laughter ceased to be funny, Tears lost their meaning... My love walked away, left me to decay. All to myself.
What an anticlimax, Looking to the sky; waiting for the rain to wash me away, never felt this way; swear, never felt this way....
Hoped to be rich, failed my father.. Hoped to be good, failed my mother... Hoped to be powerful, failed myself... Hoped to be one, failed my beloved.
User friendly; I died everytime I took the sip of the devils whiskey, washed my life puking it down the drain. In my old age; I still didnt possess the brains to end it all one fine day....
Taught myself nothing new, treated those who treated me worst with respect. I die even now.
No rebellion, when will my breath stop. When will the machine not respond. When will the dissection begin?

Tied up, enslaved, smeared with the pasted disgrace across my head. The god mocks, taunts and spits at my shameful face. There is no end to this, no one to lean on; no one to help; no one to even offer.
My world comes full circle, just like yours shall.. those who will not die young.. will inevitably suffer till the end.... die of pathetic comical tragedy of old age.....

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Pink Elephant

Merrily it stands aplomb the center of the circus, the pink elephant holding a bouquet of rose.
Shining glittering eyes, dimensions untold; horrible instances of whips and torture unfold. Yea one blink of her fluttering eyes, and you are hypnotized; woken up from the dream when the best part was about to come.
You are already hooked on, the flying trapeze blows your mind away.. Truth be told; you never had it all anyways...
The pink elephant stretches its nose straight to you; pass the doobie man, this wicked crowd aint getting fooled..
What is dylan doing playing the flute straight from silence's gates... atop you oh fluffy pink elephant, You are not the whole truth be-folded yet are you?
Damn anarchy; You fool. You dont see what is in front of your eyes, what will you do increasing your bloody gene pool, wretched cursing you plunder the world from its dream home...
I remain silence, as dylan laughs out loudest yet, the crowd is staring all at me, wide eyed and jaw dropped.. is this already the prediction of a unanimous verdict?? what has happened to the circus,
I am afraid to believe, to trust my senses. When was i ever sure of anything, even my sense; the message is clear.
The visual paradox is the one which skips right in front of your eyes, mesmerizing and yet never registering... a blink too many took that happen to us;
The pink elephant striped in gold dust, the lies melt into a reunion pot, where the labels are removed from the sinners and freedom is for one and all..
Crows join around and lift the dark hue of what resembles the circus elephant, it is a golden ball with tuskers made of pure white light... something innocent eaten away by the ends of what we will call an end.
The enchanting forest beckons, where the wicked haunt will be what you do for fun, where you will do your best to increase the love between you and another, in harmony and dance; equaled to none.
The pink elephant will become the idol of symbol of worship of this adherence, to be N(one)...

Causation ceases, desolation reeks. of what our love will be; change, embrace and be the crystallized form of divinity, each and every breath moment and span. Your ends dont end with this journey dear friend, the elephant sees through space and time, peers through your hearts till the haunting so so short ends of our time...
Try in this instance, the elephant keeps a short shrill, its heart beating and flaring its smoke filled nostrils...

Om Nama Civaya

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Hiss Order

The cool shade inviting, your special foe now in.
Turbulant shaking and violent strife; flowing raging like the wild flower
Demise; Spitting the fury within, right type of dissent.

In spite I flew in the daze, it deludes the wicked, blessing insane..
Type spell cast over the pearl like moor, Winter Wine with the wane.
To look over your venom, the death and vile in my vein. Take the sport that first fades (into your well of pain)

Dye red, and wine over flows as the turtle settles within the shell,
You look in due awe, with the jaw hanging like a nuclear holocaust babe.
So, sow the seeds of strife within, the servant will obey; Hiss order looms in dis order.
This order which you accept with heads down to be in unison the favorite failure of our day.

No this is not the attempt to change what come may, hiss oder like the snake pouncing down at the flesh
weak and writhing rage.
The coil force is shifting, and as this is the day and age of aquarious, what you could be is what you be never ever in a thousand days.
Night owl; smirks and leaves for the worst to come down and finish the end looks like.
It bears no mark or resemblance to memory; it corrupts and registers itself again.. you will see
the bars unchained now let the fiery to the fore; the subtle humor, or what the senses will call an insane moment..
uncovers again and again. Why to bother; when everything bit down becomes to do your bidding.
Come what may.
Take a breadth and hold yourself in, see the wisdom of silence of this order to change it (within)
I stress your survival linked to the lineage, where you are the power plant; shamans night owl and the laughter of hallucinatory proportions.!

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

The new clubbing scene (project Mayhem)

The real club is here baby, come on you aren't afraid are you?
All through your life, you avoided uncertainty, and now finally your nimble mind has given up on thee. Hey you aren't afraid are you now?
Oh you are, what a shame, for the only true spirit is in the spirit of this game. Its starts in the ring, but you probably ought to know the rules. Here it goes, before you for sure... 
Rule No.1: You do not speak about fight club.
You want to know rule no 2?
Rule No.2: Everyone is expendable in project mayhem
Welcome to the wicked yet real and believable world of Tyler Durden. 
Its a party, so come on in, drink some punch and get ready to fight to death... 
All through my undergraduate years, I had this wicked and incessent need to punch myself and others and be punched, It was our personal private fight club, to explore the boundaries of pain. For as you all very well know ladies and gentlemen, there is no other teacher than pain. 
Oh its instant, to the brain, requires some smarts but all the balls you can muster up again and again. Stand up, You can still stand up, well its time for you to be wacked some more, so that you realize that this is just a fight, not to settle any scores. 
No opponents, no enemies, no one here but yourself and me; why dont you start; give it a good shot; you made me bleed, I like it, the smell and taste of my blood; done with half the deed. I strike back, sternem and above, puncture your lungs, so that you puke some more blood... elixir in this fight; my real respect to my enemy tonight..... 
You are not my enemy; the conditioning of my head is the true deal, look ahead and behind; we dont got no seatbelts strapped on, let go, tyler cries; I let go and leave my secret spot behind. I am free, Flying soaring in an all out blood fest. Welcome to our club, we are here for your service and your service only.... 
Its good to get drunk and fight, but you know what; its even more bloody real when you let it go on your own face with your own fists all sober and with no one to sight. Trying times when you think you are demented after all you have created the double to see you through what you could not accomplish by yourself ever. 

Fight club is not an invention, It is our inner most desire. To learn from the greatest teacher here on this earth, the powerful fist; the raging veins, the subtle dementia all through my brain. 

Some very alternate quotes from the script of this epic movie

Narrator: "I... I don't know. I guess... when people think
you're dying, they really listen, instead..."
Marla: "-Instead of just waiting for their turn to speak." 

"Like everyone else, I had become a
slave to the IKEA nesting instinct.
If I saw something like clever coffee
table sin the shape of a yin and yang,
I had to have it. I would flip through
catalogs and wonder, "What kind of dining
set defines me as a person?" We used to
read pornography. Now it was the Horchow
Collection. I had it all. Even the glass
dishes with tiny bubbles and imperfections,
proof they were crafted by the honest,
simple, hard-working indigenous peoples of

"With insomnia, you're never really asleep;
you're never really awake."  

"This is your life and it's ending one
minute at a time." 

"I am Jack's smirking revenge."
"I am Jack's cold sweat"
"I am Jack's raging bile duct"
"I am Jack's broken heart"
"I am Jack's complete lack of surprise"

"With a gun in your mouth, you speak only
in vowels." 

"If you wake up at a different time
and in a different place, could you
wake up as a different person?" 

"After fighting, everything else in your life has
got the volume turned down." 

Tyler continues:       
"Our generation has had no Great Depression, no Great War.
Our war is spiritual. Our depression is our lives." 

"You are not your job.
You are not how much you have in the bank.
You are not the contents of your wallet.
You are not your fucking Khakis.
You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake.
You are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of
the world."

"How much can you know about yourself
if you've never been in a fight?" 

"It's only after you've lost everything
that you're free to do anything." 

"You just had a near-life experience." 

"You are not special. You are not a
beautiful or unique snowflake. You are
the same decaying organic matter as
everything else."

"Hitting bottom isn't a weekend retreat! It's not a seminar!
You have to forget everything you know, everything you think
you know -- about life, about friendship, about you and me."

of course the most profound and least known quote of the author and the most cryptic is repeated by marla character in the movie: it goes like this, 


"I make and sell soap"- Tyler the alternate fuck up Durden        

Monday, May 17, 2010


I arrived at the end of ratnagiri, and hitch hiked my way to the ancient temple in the small desolate village of _____; It is not pleasant to speak of travails as if they were casual. The dead speak in tongues. They loll it till you drop dead in their place. I took my rosary close to my soul; spreading and chanting the bija mantra to ward that which did not know; did not know what it did.
Barefoot in the heat; the striking glow of the sun on each rock polished eroded and burnt up. Spread to a thousand miles each which way; there has been no respite from the demons of my mind since the day I took birth crying for solace.
Sun and moon will play their games; as the ancient temple atop the lonely hill awaited my arrival. Nothing but the haunted stared; their lifelessness rubs off if you dont have the energy to dissipate (in their presence); otherwise what is the difference between you and the ghouls of yesterday.
I leave sleep and food behind; the sun feeds me and my mind rests by itself. The earth shakes; tremors and etheric whips of sheer prana come out and lunge at me; a slight mis calculation and it will be done; There will be no one to burn my remains.
I decided with the grace of the divine, I sit outside and meditate for the rays to penetrate; Into the amulet i possess, one last time till the sun drowns in crimson red. Opening my hair; and shrieks abound to warn of my presence; laughing and crying at the same time is such a pathetic existence.
The karna pischasha in my ear; talks with certainity of what is to be; it knows the present and past, and digs for the future of my end. Sure sure i invite its intonation, of my demise. I know I was born to die; die a dog's death, no lover by my side; not even god would care.
Darkness surrounding, it smells of something out of the world, the senses cannot fathom; the mind crawls back into its primitive shell. The two etheric beings arrive; the ones who have sensed me; the ones who have stalked my dreams.
One of ice, long and stick like, sick and dispassionate, It jumps from spot to spot for the earth cannot hold its energy for more than a fraction or more. Besides it the fat disfigured mutilated fire; filled to the brim with wrath, stuck to the core, inviting each soul to come inside and taste nevermore.
They laugh and taunt, "You of feeble faith" they call repeatedly out to me, show me your staff; show me your sacred ash. They burn and breathe ice simultaneously.
Drunk with the name of my master, I put my staff once in front, twice fold behind, they scoff and remain glued to the movements of the energy of the wood splinter which strikes through them. The life force becoming weak.
They pound the ground in a fluid motion and enter my head from the two orifices of my nose, I breathe them in at the same go. They open the doors of this ancient ruin once and first over a millenia since it has been struck shut. Fear nay Power holds what is inside away from the dimension cast as this earth. It is opened, for a split; I am dragged in air and taken inside. The path is decorated inside deeper within the ground...
The temple goes inside the hill, under the ground; heat and cold both strike fast inside me, from the spine to my mind. My eyesight shut, my senses closed. I am all to what laya has taught me, the first and the last recourse to deal with ultimate truth.
The temple is sage; It is decorated with the bones, bones of saints, who have given their lives after spending it in contemplation and decapitating their physical heads at the bali - stone. The center portion of the sanctum sanctorom never seen still red with blood.
The darkness is lit by the eyes of the dead. They are flashing like stars from another galaxy. I am in black space; or so it feels, illuminated all over by the eyes of the taunting ancients, who gave up their breath for something more satiating.
The older reign, did not see as the recent seekers of freedom would; reality was tangible, death wasnt; how to escape? give up the body, live as what was not physical forever in the place which the ice and fire powers beckoned to. The masters spent eons buried in sand and hills, enduring the heat and cold. The hunger and thirst would not bother, the concept to escape, to escape to some place immortal had caught their attention.
The ghouls laughed at me, to try to convince, to try to allure, put the fear of death and the fragility of mortality. They ripped me, shred my soul, took my rosary and converted it to filthy gold. Their metamorphosis, to show me how frail my quest for freedom was. How everything was relative especially what i called freedom. They didnt leave I to I, they twisted and turned it till I died.
Yes I died, in the special site of the old masters, but I did not join them, my path was lit in life and death; They spit and cursed, yet I would and could not be cured. My soul did not exist, like theirs forever, forever trapped. My final moments, before non existence was to see the ghastly deals that we humans in the name of life everlasting did, to the extents we could undergo. To tread on one and other, the universe of energies took advantage of this naive race, they held us captive, in a dimension where life was forever, where form was not temporal or permanent. But we still existed, one which way or the other, constantly being fed off by one or the other. We could not escape even then...
The temple remains a light brighter than the sun for those who wished their freedom from alluring life everlasting, to be back into the void, where nothing will ever be anything other than what it was meant to be.
Nothing is free
It is the cost which isnt you see
but you must remember that no one and nothing is what it seems to be..

Waking Life

Waking life remains an all time must watch. Its slow, drags yet never ever remains constant throughout its journey. The journey is the goal, It becomes the path and the destiny which is freedom beginning to end.
Waking Life is a continous conversation between self. Viewing different perceptions within the time frame of one life time. Never shielding or defending any one, and of course not shunning any one or all of them too. The lovely breath taking scenery portrays dream landscape which is of course our waking life. Just seen new through the eyes of a child seeing it for the first time.
Its surreal and refreshing, not dull and boring like what we are used to seeing day in and out. Not the conversation we have heard or known throughout our life; It something more than intriguing; maybe even stirring.
But it requires patience and faith to see the movie to the end, the movie of my life. Where shall it wake up to next. Where shall it wander off to last.. a vast intricate web of rich tapestry called ideas and imaginations driven through e-motions, making it a complete matrix of one. Its waking life indeed.
The movie interviews the mind which is the philosopher, the dramatist and artist, the dreamer and the traveler. The showman and the lover; the sleeper and stalker, the music and of course the beat to make it all come alive. Where all can it be found but in this mind, drawing energy from the surrounding; the macro and microcosm. I live by these words of the movie; Yet I wish to truly die by them. For it is in death that reality opens up like the petals of a blooming lotus. The thousand petaled lotus of dream and life....

“Dream Is Destiny.”

“The idea is to remain in a constant state of departure while always arriving. It saves on introductions and goodbyes.”

“When we communicate with one another and we feel that we have connected and we think we’re understood, I think we have a feeling of almost spiritual communion…I think it’s what we live for.”

“I believe reincarnation is just a poetic expression of what collective memory really is.”

“I want freedom! We have got to realize that we’re being conditioned on a mass scale. Start challenging this corporate slave state.”

“While technically I’m closer to the end of my life than I’ve ever been, I actually feel more than ever that I have all the time in the world.”

“Which is the most universal human characteristic, fear or laziness?”

“There’s no story. It’s just people, gestures, moments, bits of rapture, fleeting emotions. In short, the greatest story ever told.”

“A well-armed populace is the best defense against tyranny.”

“They say that dreams are only real as long as they last. Couldn’t you say the same thing about life?”

“The worst mistake that you can make is to think you’re alive when really you’re asleep in life’s waiting room.”

“You can have so much damn fun in your dreams. And, of course, everyone knows FUN RULES.”

“If the world that we are forced to accept is false and nothing is true, then everything is possible.”

“Whatever you do, don’t be bored. This is absolutely the most exciting time we could have possibly hoped to be alive. And things are just starting.”

“I want real human moments. I want to see you. I want you to see me. I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to be an ant.”

“I’m not in an objective, rational world.”

“On really romantic nights of self, I go salsa dancing with my confusion.”

“The ongoing WOW! Is happening right now.”

“You haven’t met yourself yet.”

“It’s sort of a dream within a dream.”

“Doesn’t it make sense that death too would be wrapped in a dream? That after death, your conscious life would continue in what might be called a dream body?”

“It was a gift. Life was raging all around me and every moment was magical.”

“If you’re going to microwave that burrito, I want you to poke holes in the plastic wrapping because they explode and I’m tired of cleaning up your little burrito doings.”

“If you can wake up, you should because someday you won’t be able to.”

"You can't fight city hall." "Death and taxes." "Don't talk about politics or religion." This is all the equivalent of enemy propaganda, rolling across the picket line. "Lay down, GI! Lay down, GI!". We saw it all through the 20th Century. And now on the 21st Century, it's time to stand up and realize, that we should NOT allow ourselves to be crammed into this rat maze. We should not SUBMIT to dehumanization. I don't know about you, but I'm concerned with what's happening in this world. I'm concerned with the structure. I'm concerned with the systems of control. Those that control my life, and those that seek to control it EVEN MORE! I want FREEDOM! That's what I want, and that's what YOU should want! It's up to each and every one of us to turn loose of just some of the greed, the hatred, the envy, and yes, the insecurities, because that is the central mode of control, make us feel pathetic, small, so we'll willingly give up our sovereignty, our liberty, our destiny. We have GOT to realize we're being conditioned on a mass scale. Start challenging this corporate slave state! The 21st Century's gonna be a new century! Not the century of slavery, not the century of lies and issues of no significance, of classism and statism, and all the rest of the modes of control... it's gonna be the age of humankind, standing up for something PURE and something RIGHT! What a bunch of garbage, liberal, Democratic, conservative, Republican, it's all there to control you, two sides of the same coin! Two management teams, bidding for control of the CEO job of Slavery Incorporated! The TRUTH is out there in front of you, but they lay out this buffet of LIES! I'm SICK of it, and I'M NOT GONNA TAKE A BITE OUT OF IT! DO YA GOT ME? Resistance is NOT futile, we're gonna win this thing, humankind is too good, WE'RE NOT A BUNCH OF UNDERACHIEVERS, WE'RE GONNA STAND UP, AND WE'RE GONNA BE HUMAN BEINGS! WE'RE GONNA GET FIRED UP ABOUT THE REAL THINGS, THE THINGS THAT MATTER - CREATIVITY, AND THE *DYNAMIC* *HUMAN* *SPIRIT* THAT REFUSES TO *SUBMIT*! WELL THAT'S IT, that's all I've got to say. It's in your court now. 

“There’s only one instant, and it’s right now, and it’s eternity.”

Such is the case of here and now..... 

Saturday, May 15, 2010

ChildHood Memories

Hong Kong remains another world in my head. The best days of my life spent there, care free with the soul brothers and sisters whom I bonded with. I used to live in a place called wanchai, on a small hill; and it was so far away from the maddening crowds of that little island. Secluded, my home used to look towards one of the remaining hills preserved for walking and jogging purposes in the tiny 18 odd kilometer island. Seeing my days pass in the humidity and the torrential downpours; the typhoons oh so often, and i used to hope that every typhoon would bring a day off from school for me. Not that I hated school like i did attending em in India, school was a reprieve. Studying in a Canadian school, with teachers from all over the world who came to HK to settle and teach from their wide range of perspectives, used to have a manic coffee drinking Frenchman who used to teach the subject called Mr. Chaussauriad, or simply Mr. C, though i used to flunk French but his benevolent attitude towards all and especially me was something i simply adored, the year i left back for India, he too left for our neighboring country- Pakistan~! and i was surprised what he would be in for, and i am sure he too knew, but he was up for adventure; so apt for teachers. Used to have an awesome English and dramatics teacher called Mr. Todd Blaney- under whos guidance I and others undertook a 2 year project of a national level drama. Trying to be modest yet truthful, I had a very interesting and difficult role in this, playing a Chinese grand papa, always ranting wisdom to the new generation... with the maximum number of lines to rehearse over and over; 2 years down i was a pro at being a Chinese grandfather, and we won 2nd prize at the national level competing with other English schools in the country. Too much intensity and fun i must say. There was my teacher Mr. Gribbon, an dyslexic who admitted it the very first day we had in his class. He was impressed with my sincerity towards studies and later in the year fucked my case when he confronted my friends and I for trying to bully a retarded sardar kid (and i must defend our bullying that surdar, who used to come up to his seniors-us, and mouth off curses and waited for us to retialiate, what a crazy race... in any place on earth)
I had the most adored friends in HK, my best friend (and i still consider him that, even though i dont know what happened of him after i left for India), Marcin Pawlak; the hot polish Canadian of our batch, and his twisted crazy younger brother.. have had my most freaked times with them, and of course my Indian counter part Sameer Babani, a sindhi settled in HK for his life, we made the trip trio (we were all around 6 feet by sixth grade, and quite obviously stood out lol), we used to enjoy each others company to the max, and the city being quite safe; used to get out after midnight and travel the metro or the trams (which used to operate before midnight) to travel anywhere in that little comfy island all to ourselves. Was something so special, marcin used to go out with my best friend Mia elizabeth flore henderson (lol.. used to take her trip something for her name), who was an American from Thailand and settled in HK, a beautiful woman even in the sixth standard and onwards, and they were the cutest couple even at that time. Mia's feminineness combined with her tom-boyishness made it so easy for her to mingle with everyone. I have wished her the best of this world whenever i have thought of her, she was sparkle for our age then, geeky glasses and the before puberty voice of hers screaming at my friend marcin on the phone while i sat and laughed my ass off time over, and had to always help them patch up like crazy. Many times over. Memories galore!
Though HK has no space at all, my school in Tai Koo had enough for our daily basketball routine, enough space to spend time after school talking till evening dawned. It was always magical with good friends around. Best friends around.

In my free time I used to goto the mainland, and have taken trips to macau, and sanctuaries on the border with china with my friends and my mum. The simple fact used to be, that you could be as young or old as you wished and you could travel wherever you pleased. It was safe, simple and adorable to be on a small island off the coast of China.
I used to go with my good friends hopping to the Christian cemetery of HK, built nestled between 3 odd hills, and the graves stretching on the hills, unlike India, people used to keep the cemeteries where the dead of their beloved were buried, extremely clean and spacious. A place where people could come to reminisce their lovers, and spend time contemplating life and death, it was something like that even for me. I used to take my camera and take photos of graves, the old and dilapidated and the new and the profound. We were a bunch of young fools always playing ouji board trying to bring out the spirits of the dead from the grave for us to talk to, so that we could get to know secrets of others and what not! days of revelry indeed.
The thing when we are young is that there is no stigma, no pressure or tension of any sorts, do your homework and live your life, and thats exactly what i learnt and did in Hong Kong.
On days when we were extremely bored we used to hitch random rides in the metro and play hide and seek in the massive underground stations or get off to some massive malls (HK was and is just made of malls, malls interconnected and people get off from metros to inside malls to other malls and what not), and we would drive people crazy running around like mad kids hahaha, My friends tried their best to teach me ice skating and i always exceeded their expectation by going and falling on the bare ice over and over, till my buttocks became numb.
Marcin and I were crazy for the Canadian rapper SNOW- with his famous song INFORMER, and we had i guess 2-3 cd's of his albums.. all that he ever made. But gotta tell ya, he is pretty cool rapper for a white man, and raps real bloody fast. my only tryst with rap music, but too fun none the less.
My first dates with my pretty girl friend  Elizabeth ahn(korean canadian mix hehe), and double dating with my friends, something new and exciting to me; and always so full of fun. There was a resonant fun factor within me always, and i was full on even before i knew what that word ever meant. Some how HK taught me way way more than India did, ever could or would. The 3 day trek trip from our class where we went to a beautiful natural secluded place near a river and mountain, on the china border is the first time i laid my eyes on Elizabeth, and it was the "party night" when everyone was busy trying to get a dance from the opposite sex where i stood next to the river watching the moon pass on by, and nature and the goddess provided me my visual treat par excellence when i saw her besides, laughing and being naive; yet with such poignant elegance, and with such care free stature, I was smitten the first time... It was a wonderful night, we walked like a meter away from each other, fearing someone would brand us a couple, and talking and laughing the night till we had to go back to our bunks. Something so special, I thank nature for placing the fool in the right place and time for the goddess to let her hair down and simply talk to me!
The most fun time of the year was the chinese new year, when i used to get and distribute lie-see gifts of cash to all, and when the government used to set the bay on fireworks, the night used to be awesome with continuous fire works for hours. People cheering and glowing in revelry, the small island used to come alive with camaraderie.
Hong Kong was peaceful, the people mostly kept to themselves and cases of racial abuse were non existent. I remember spending time with other Indians learning the Vishnu sahasranama (which i know till date!) or even meeting up with my mothers friends house which overlooked the horse racing stadium for the weekend gamble. my best days over and over without a doubt were the days I was left to my own thang, my own way.. in a distant island with high rises blocking always the golden bay. Hooray for HK!!!

Friday, May 14, 2010

First Love. Forever Love. Final Love. Forever Love.

Do you remember when we met for the first time. You didnt notice, but I sure did; you standing on the escalator; like it was the stairway to heaven. We had our first meal in between laughter and I was hooked on to your smile.
Do you remember when we met for the second time, You didnt notice but I changed into a pair of stalking so that we could go to the club we desired. We had our first glass of wine, so that we could stir the moments by.. It was such reprieve that you trusted me from first sight. There was none like you i would ever meet, I knew the very moment I put my eyes on your sensual attire. Wow I still reminisce till this day; how that night ended. with a peck on my cheek. So graceful.. ended with a sigh. Didnt know whether i would meet you ever again jyoti. Just destroyed my days and nights.
Do you remember when we met for the third time? We stumbled each other in the bus stop, waiting to catch a ride, up to clean blue heaven... we took the cab instead with small talk and so much intensity bestowed besides.
Reached to kasauli, where we lost the garb of strangers and dawned what we truly desired. A bottle of mountain wine, a walk and a talk of the sunset at hand, and caught by cops; we were just brother and sister to the outside world... while being soulmates forever in time..
Do you remember when we met the fourth time? It was the very same night... when you took the rosary beads from my neck and put it on as an anklet on your sexy feet, you made this saint a bloody sufi just in one night.. You took my life and turned it upside down. No words or deeds could ever speak like you did with your fluttering eyes.. oh you dont know, but i notice a lot more than meets the eye!
Do you remember when we met for the fifth time? The early morning dawn of kasauli when it poured lightening all night long like an endless affair, a wordless song.. it was coupled with the cinematic rolling in the hay !! The sleeping of the gentle angel on my lap in an abandoned bus stop till the morning broke us down to our sweet embrace (finally in a bed!)
You dont know how many ways you made me, you can curse me for not being there, and leave me for not being there.. but you are bound to me, like the leaves are to a tree; like the sun is to the sky, like the eagle touching and kissing the clouds so high. I am your dasa, and you are my muse. You remain the forbidden fruit, which once eaten jyoti; makes me remember the truth.
The truth that we havent met the first time, we wont ever be apart.. the laughing misery of our seperation too shall soon; oh very soon depart...
Do you remember (so we thought) when we were to meet for the last time? Next to the sunset lake, where we held hands and kissed perhaps like it was not meant to be? Do you remember the time, where all the mirages I had of you turned themselves into the blue blue sea? I remember the lips; I remember your hair; coiled my life into your hands and lo! there.. you my nymph, my self in another; you are the one who I can verily be happy with a life shared.
No poet can deny, No artist can respond, when the call of love strikes; they all drop and become one... You are my grace, I am your strength. together we will live this world and the next.
Be mine forever. For I am already yours forever.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

High Fashion

As you walk on by; your anklet shines and crackles the morning alive from twilight..
Long flowing hair covers you from head to toe; as the nymphs jump into the well jealous of your radiating glow.
Bleak is life without your childlike smile, your doe-eyed innocence, and your wicked plans for the night....
Cannot measure your patience with the less endowed, your grace with the petty hearted, your naivety at lifes ordeals, where will I ever find a loving goddess like you.
Shooting stars move past your hips dusk to dawn, and your scent of jasmine, never ever gone (from my head)
As you walk past, give me one look; just that sensual gaze. For that will be enough merciful lover, to alleviate my pain; remove me from this stoning daze *called life*
My Muse, My simple twist (in faith) brought me to you, like a seashell brought from the endless ocean onto the hands of an awe-struck child.. It could be called chance, but you (my seashell, from distant space), are nothing but divine grace!
Lo! time progresses too fast and stops at every waking hour in haste... all bowing to your care and compassion.. living the simple life tara, always in high fashion...

Simple yet elegant, tolerant yet spit fire, commanding yet so gentle (sleeping), beautiful and so very intelligent.. dichotomous and never tolerating bullshit (even from me)... your life has more twists and turns than the branches of an old banyan tree.
You teach me life, and how to live it. Things I am not, you are for me.. when we fight we blow the house all directions for everyone to see. You coax me into being myself; time over when I am arrogant as hell/ never letting your spirit in myself down....... Without you tara my brazen goddess; I would be wearing a thorn ridden crown.

Peace & Love & Bliss (From Tara to everyone and everyone amiss)

Saturday, May 1, 2010

The Last One Seen

Aghori you promise me one last time, raw and worth less, the life filled with turmoil and distaste. The burning ash in my mouth without the wisdom of death.
Aghori sitting on the corpse, intoxicated with the power of self. Higher she gets, the less peril this night faces.
Night hounds brazen and taut; stand up and howl.. shred the higher to the lower from earths bowl. The night faces dark vibrations, like none of you have ever witnessed before. The eyes wired face to the north star, the hair on ends, as the aghori spits fire and water across your faceless self.
Seldom you are the last one seen, there is always another to take your putrid place. But this is no ordinary place; no ordinary state- the time of the night is always ripe. When the mother takes her foot and places it on your third eye.
Shook your tailspin, birth of destruct. The button is placed at your worldly wise navel. The lotus blooming forth, sets vibrations across the ends of the world. Press it down. Push it up... breadth for breadth; demise takes no toll in the crematorium of everyones end.
I slaved to you, in the name of love, retribution takes over, and nothing is left. I leave it for ash master! the ash which enlightens your night drive.
Aghori, you drive fear into the heart of fear. Death runs ten fold away from you, for you are loathsome, in your hands, tandav is the only state of grace!
The last one seen, before the mist takes over and everything becomes as it never was, yes the world becomes mystical once more; there is nothing to foresake, for there was nothing here in the first place.
Aghori, you eat me alive, burn my spine, inserting firetongs into my eyes, I see your true form and place. Not here Not there... Neti Neti never never never again.
You push my brain deeper within, splitting the neural network even further. There is nothing left, for you to dismantle, take it and re build it master architect.
The last one seen is a midget called ego, shame nay fucking disgrace...... The last one seen is the funeral pyre burning the laughing corpse of mine in haste. Some how, you should know the aghori is always present. presenting the present of the present to states un stated.
Burn down the cupid of duality-love. This lust which burns your energy, makes you think that you understand love.. The aghori laughs once more. for there aint ever anything as dangerous as his intoxicated laughter. It will cause you to vomit, realize that you are dust on his feet, perhaps not even that.
This is a revelation, nothing to be taken lightly. The destruction of lust and love; The beginning of the downpour of hate.


Birth of something magical, a remote controlled organism; heartbeat to perfection, insanity pounding with every beat, blood drunk eyes.. portraying the blood red skies above, the blood filled grounds below.
The death of love. Nothing to adore, No one to be inspired from, for everything is robotic, controlled by the remote (from the sky), The muse is dead, left to fend for herself... looks like the beat is returning, there is nothing to love, no one to adore.
Master of puppets is the one pulling the strings, and the robots dance to the tune, damning their individuality, their true tryst with the oasis of self. Lost in a mirage, the machines convulse and converge to a single pointed lie. Lie of love, the death of adoration, the birth of mechanical.
Blissfully living their lives, in the cesspool of stench ridden feces, its called love and laughter, open and care free. A lie so beautifully decieving, not to mention so easily bought. The machines programmed to implode; the release mechanism so called love, no where to be found. The master can play the strings to his tune, and all we can do is wait and watch. For doom and hate to be reborn. Within, writhing to implode, damnation be the cure. The end opens its mouth of liberation, wide open.

Sons of bitches lived their lives and thought they knew it all, went to heavens and bought (not brought) the wisdom of enslaving us even more. The master knew it, smoking a cigarette; sitting and grinning brought down the house.. of charades , with your narcissitic love for another. In vain, In vain, In vain.
There is no one to adore, nothing to love.. in this sphere of decay, In this void of the machine- no soul, no heart.. nothing to glorify but the 6 feet under, of space we all eventually need to repair.
There is nothing exciting in this heartbeat, precise and confounded.. It brings no adventure, nothing but eternal dismay, the master is a puppet too, ever bent on playing with the lives of ours, with a string from above (a fucking snare)
Shining sun burns out, Cool moon breaks into two. The lunatics furnishing the mechanical dream, of the repetition of something so moronic as love, as you see there is no one to adore, nothing to love. Never again. Never again.
Master mind robots within us, send the signal, chip by chip.. burning the message to the cortex. Subliminal hell, its life reality and love. Implanted as a fail safe mechanism against implosion, till the day we are caught in the dichtomy of life itself, the very day when you see that there aint no fucking angel sent here for you to save (or be saved).
You are a robot, a blinking cumming farting hole. There is no other like you, except the ones who have already embraced the grave. Eaten by vermin, excruciated till the end, there is no release; for you are nothing human to be released in the first place.
My parents copulated to bring out another in the line of nothing great. You and I are walking talking sleeping disgrace. For you and I are never and no one ever to adore (be adored), no one ever to love or be loved.....

M*A*S*H save(d) my soul!

TV is useless, and repulsive; I have not watched tele vision for almost a decade, probably from the time i have started my undergraduation college, i am not interested in sports or serials or comedies or movies on tv. This is not because i am some sort of freak, hell tv is an idiot box and i have spent all my time till the age of 18 watching it, you name it i would have seen it (if it was worth watching in the first place i guess), stuff like test matches, replays and post and pre plays, comedies galore, mystery series and cartoons like x-files or simpsons or batman, and so much of it. Used to recogonize my life more through the idiot box than reality around me (india is poison filled when it comes to witnessing real), watching movies, time and over... or just random stuff, and then one fine day i gave up. I had seen anything and everything which was worth watching on it, and i am thankful too, for the time i left watching the mind disturbance machine, was the exact time world over; people started airing and making real dead beat crap for tv. Its a real shame, but there is something which i still love to watch, though not aired on tv for almost a decade, i have seen M*A*S*H almost my entire life, this awesome kick ass series believe it or not is a canned comedy series made by americans (thats the bizarre part right-americans and funny humor, wtf!). The series is one of the most widely recogonized and aclaimed in the world till date, though it was made somewhere in the mid-80's portraying the american-north-south korean war, where america and 20 odd other countries participated for causing eternal scarring of the korean community, not to mention the permanent seperation of the land into two bitter hating halves.

The comedy series was the post development of the movie by the same name (which was also a huge success), though not entirely as funny, the lead man, alan alda (known as 'hawk-eye' pierce) had been present throughout the entire 11 seasons of the comedy, he and other band of men who play doctors in a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital (MASH), with nurses alongside for the below the belt fun, go to make this series such a delight. I admit that the series would never be AS funny as a brit comedy with the puns and the clever lines, but to its credit this serial had the EXACT - RIGHT mix of humor (situational. Lingual), emotion, adventure and right change of cast at the right time, and ofcourse beautiful sketching of the characters played by very talented and extremely funny cast. I have been hooked on to it, ever since probably 3-4rth standard when it was first aired in star plus channel in india (that time the channel was english and not fucking saas bahu bullshit), and of course all credit to my mother for introducing me to something great.
There is something about bombs, war, blood, death and in between you have these zonked drunk as hell forever doctors who have nothing but sex on mind, who go ahead to combat extreme situations with empathy and humor, the mix as i said earlier was amazing in these episodes, and once you start watching them and conencting with the characters, you are hooked on for life. MASH made my afternoons, and evenings, my popcorn nights and what not. I know its a series havin some 20odd episode per season, but I can relate, remember, and revere every episode, cause its made for some darn good smiling/laughing/madness for me some time or the other.
Alan alda, became famous beyond belief after this series became a hit (almost instantly-after the first season was aired, and still continues to be famous as hell!), not to mention the other characters like jamie farr and so forth, who went on to make their own series after MASH ended.
Just wanted to thank the creators and story makers, the cast and the production units of a very very memorable once in a generation series, which actually went ahead to make a difference, showing the inhumanity of people fighting people, yet casting it in a way so as to make you smile and weep all together.

ps the opening track of the serial remained the same for 11 straight years, and a very very soul stirring melody indeed.

Ode to Humanity

I am not a big fan of human kind, the version of life that in today’s day seems to be only focused upon itself. The day’s pass and humans ...