Monday, November 30, 2009


"What on earth were you thinking?"

"Well, actually, I was thinking of something non-earthly"

"Oh! like heavenly?"

"Not exactly, which is precisely why I used the non existant term non-earthly instead of unearthly, and compared both of them in this sentence, when none of them are really valid".

"I am wondering why I am having this conversation".

"Possibly because you need solace for that broken bottle of milk, lying on the floor!".

"What! How did you know that?"

"You know, I know that you don't know that you have a problem with you, and I didn't know that you didn't have a problem knowing that you didn't know that you have a problem with you".

"what has happend to both of us?"

"which is the root cause, we are are just two voices in the same mind!"

"is this how people go mad? its really scary"

"wait till you stop realizing that its happening, then its all fun, and sometimes unexplained agony..."

"do you have any idea, what it means to put up with you?"

"who else would have a better idea than yourself?"

"you mean - myself?"

"yourself , myself, its all the same .. remember?"

"oooo... ok, i will go to sleep now"

"am wondering, how this all started..."

"oops! there it starts again!"

Saturday, October 24, 2009

baggage cart with a broken wheel

She runs across the airport floor,
heels tapping out an urgent encore.
Balances the over-sized glasses on her hair
And whispers to an ear disembodied, not there.
Half smile breaks the plane of her face.
She is not beautiful yet filled with grace.

As the endless belts roll on by
people, who to lay claim, lie
Still speaking as she hauls one on
to a little baggage cart that she has drawn
quick turn and there she stands framed
by the cart and and endless line of baggage unclaimed.

Engrossed she misses the pavement
Her lips make a perfect O of lament
As she twists an ankle and breaks the heel
of her left shoe and the baggage cart's left wheel
Looks around at a world running by
and hobbles on, embarrassed, without a reason why.

Monday, August 24, 2009


I remember the woman who would look both ways
before she crossed the road, with animated scenes
of her own death being played in her perepheral vision

I wish i had those visions, of gory death, crushed
by a moving bus, or through derailment of a train,
add a bit of blood, or a lot of it, oozing from my flesh

I wish i could see, me cutting up myself to pieces,
driving nails through my bones, with a nice steel hammer,
that i could listen to my last hoarse breaths of life, in idle moments

I could use them over all these crazy images, that i
conjure from thin fucking nothings, which then haunt me
for minutes, hours and days, until a new one takes its place

Friday, August 21, 2009

The Least Interesting Man in the World

With Apologies to a comic on the Internets
who's careful stick figures stand up in jest
Like this protagonist from weeks ago,
I do haunt this blog with a furrowed brow.

Should I post about this most prosaic of days?
Or rave and rant in panicked dismay?
Should I stay ensconced in the captivity of negativity?
Be verbose or go on an exercise of brevity?

Shall I resist the urge to apologize?
For the lack of posts to plagiarize?
Or should I succumb to my urges as a quitter?
And limit myself to 140 characters on twitter?

Whichever be the path on the fork that's chosen,
This one thing shall remain frozen.
Even now as in days of old,
I shall remain the least interesting man in the world.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009


The ridge was so narrow that he feared for his life every time he took a step forward. He feared that the thorny branches will tear up his skin when he walked forward. He feared that he will break the delicate glassware that were kept on the stools which lined the muddy path. And he slipped and fell into the abyss. He picked the thorns and saw blood dripping from his flesh. Red colour added to the mud when he stepped on the broken glass. He went for a mad rush. He feared that he will never reach the end of the path. He slipped again.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Insomnia Strikes Back

Been a while since it struck this bad. But here goes nothing in the wee hours where as they say nothing good ever happens.

I am doing this experiment where I count sheep and recount my thoughts as I go through with it. To make things as interesting as possible I plan to count backwards instead of counting up.

Gives you a perspective of being on the road walking towards something rather than walking away from someone...

So arbitrarily and for no apparent reason. Six-Hundred-And-Fifty-Five...
Mental note to count each number as 'ex' 'hund-redd' 'aand' 'yy' where ex and yy are variables. Note that this is a more elaborate construct than say exx zedd yy where 100x+10z+y represents the number...

Counting back like this should ensure that you never actually hit 0 or worse having to count back to minus-six-hundred-and-fifty-five. This exercise seems to be built upon the inability of the normal human being to perform any action undistracted. So while counting down to six-hundred-and-thirty-eight your mind does a little flip and worries about the tick tock of the single clock in the darkness...wonders what hour the hand is holding up its accusatory finger at this time. Now you do not know if its six-hundred-and-twenty-one or six-hundred-and-thirty-one you were supposed to be on.

As a conciliatory measure go for the average of both numbers and resume at six-hundred-and-twenty-six. Now a little ping from the laptop where somebody someplace away has twittered/twitted/twot a little twit (Oxford better find some new nouns, pronouns, verbs and adjectives to address twitter-nation's self-importance).

Arbitrarily down to six-hundred-and-eleven for no good reason. Realizes the pointlessness of this blog...However seeing as how the other more eloquent contributors remain silent, this is the best you can expect for a while....

Promise to be back with better crap than this... six-hundred-and-six...

Sunday, April 26, 2009

postito ergo sum

fingers hover above the darkened keyboard
the mind freezes and urges restraint
"you know that road and you have been down there before"
yet another voice raises itself, insistent

"if everything was cause and effect and cold logic
we would not need hearts and minds to navigate
life would have neither mystery no magic
and thats something you would love to hate"

thus the hemispheres trade in argument and counter-
each blow weakening the mind and its resolve
every thought mounts a challenge before it quickly flounders
standing by the sidelines you watch yourself devolve.

eventually you will drive into distraction
look away from a mirror held up to your streak, yellow.
willfully throw yourself under wheels of destruction
swallow pride and associated spirits and say "Hello..."

Wednesday, March 04, 2009


Air was mildly chilly and it coupled with a feeling of death made my body ice cold. The mild perfume from the girl sitting next to me couldn't add a tiny bit of life to it. But then a swift wind germinated a tear in my left eye. It slowly collected the bits of sorrows that were scattered in my mind and grew large enough to drop down to my lap. The body shuddered as warmth returned to it.

I sniffed at the air, what was that smell, was it a psychoactive drug?, my eyes were hit by the red neon lights, my head rocked from side to side from the broken road, is this air drugged?, the bumps were hitting my head again, I remembered the unmatched giant breasts of a dead woman on the screen, I told her not to lift her top again, can i have some more of the hallucinogenic drug?, the green and red lights hit the eyes again, the piercing voice in my ear is changing speed, direction, techno beats, when did i start liking them, I saw the hot woman in red sari swinging her head in wild abandon, I am getting out of the trance, give me another dose.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Waiting Room

He sat quietly on the chair besides the receptionist's window. He was out of the receptionist's point of view. When her fine Anglican tones invoked his foreign native name, it did not register. He continued to stare past the window at the trees dead in the thawing snow.

After a second failed attempt at calling him, the receptionist leans over the window and looks him dead in the eye and says with a genuine smile "The doctor will see you now". He snaps out of his reverie and walks towards the doctor's office. The memory of her smile kicks in to remind him that he hadn't smiled back. Rather belatedly he smiles at the fire extinguisher by the door as he steps in, immediately realizing the futility of the gesture.

The doctor checks his pulse, looks in his mouth, checks his lungs and reads his pressure. Finally snapping off her gloves, she says "For someone your age, your blood pressure is high. Try to cut down on your caffeine intake."

He mutters something about decaf or something. The doctor goes on uninterrupted "See me again in 3 months time That should tell us if the blood pressure reading is one off or if its symptomatic."

He takes her leave and remembers to smile and wish her a good day, almost as if making up for not smiling back to the receptionist. But the doctor has already started looking into her X-ray for the next patient and mutters a vague acknowledgment.

Vaguely underwhelmed, he walks back to the hallway hoping to find the receptionist and flash a big smile. She is not there. She is out back smoking sweet death. He sighs and walks out into the cold and wonders if its colder inside or here by his car as flurries spun around his ears.

He steps inside and drives away as 106.9 WCCC blared "Loud Love" by SoundGarden...

Friday, February 13, 2009


I was reminded of this post made in a different time and place by a kindred spirit. I outright copied him for this. So no claims of originality here...

Day is the about the time between sunrise and sunset.
Its when melatonin is suppressed and most primal emotions are repressed.
Its when you are supposed to be awake and you are not.
Day is about work, spilt milk and quick cuts and dissolves.
Day is about fluorescent lights, attention disorders and more...

Day is a Trojan that escapes the nightly virus scan and is the wreaking havoc on your imagination's filesystem.
But since imagination too is a sentient concept within the Matrix, it also somehow escapes the scan. There is really no need for another virus to combat it...
Day as in Slay is the beating of dead imagination's horses.

Day is, the incessant background conversations that drones over the soundtrack of your brain.
Tight close-ups, in fact are the only things missing from Day - that makes it stop short of a daytime soap opera.
Day is your irrational attempt to subdue your thoughts from the night before...
Day is also the boundary of not just light and darkness...
but also the boundary inside defining emotion and action...

Day is about Dissociative Identity Disorder about how your dreams of what you ought to be
Rises in direct conflict with the reality of what you have become
Day is a game of chess...maneouvers and counter-maneouvers...stabs and back-stabs
Day is a concept that I have shunned for a long time...
Day is the result of our lost nights...

Day is the reason, that I am typing all this when I should have been writing functional requirements.
I may be wrong, but if you are anything like who I am, you are putting off work reading this too...
Day is when the train of thought runs on multiple parallel tracks and sometimes on collision courses...
The cold waves of air blitzing through the air conditioner pulverizes the brain to super-conductivity and the trains run amok.
Day is the reason, I dread waking up, because it makes life a chore.

Day is where the questions come up?
I cannot tell you what my day is like...You have to endure it for yourself.
For some of us day doesn't exist, we sleepwalk alone in crowds before waking up in our sleep.

Day is the reason, I refuse to think about my life,
even if I can't stop myself and fatigue by just keeping these thoughts away.
if I were to say , "dont think about her and..." slip into this...
"If we submit this PCR document by noon today, will the stakeholders provide timely approval?"
Did you just hit your mailbox to see if you have any emails requiring your approval? Or did you not care like me?

Day is your prison, where you will be held against your wish until night.
You have the right to remain silent and anything you say will be used against you in a court of flaw.
Day is your reminder that you are in this alone.
Day is what you do to get to Night.

This exposition on Day is quite frankly boring.
Today is however the one day that I am thinking about Day.
Day is when you fall to the ground with burnt wings from flying too close to the sun.
Day is when the moth with burnt wings is no better than the ant without any...
Day is the curse for many.

Day is about looking at that pretty girl in the cafeteria, catching her eye, then thinking involuntary dirty thoughts before shuddering in distaste.
Day is about existence justification, memory of a simpler times and looking back at embers of bridges glowing behind us (to a dream of how green it was on the other side)
Day is about forgetting friends, ideas, imagination and remembering painful things from your past.
Day is about maximizing opportunities and leveraging angles.

Day is not new.
Day is always a struggle. Once infected by it, you will never be cured.
Day is when you realize the ugly moth that stepped out as a beautiful butterfly still shits the same crap as it did before.

Day is when we think of excuses for another day.
Day is how I spend waiting for Night.
Day is about looking forward to your new dreams...
while also mourning the death of your old dreams.

Day is about abstract psycho-babble,
MS Excel, Word, Office and Outlook.
Day is about coffee breaks, saying "Hi. This is Bala" and putting yourself on mute for the rest of the meeting.
Day is about being cattle herded through life with the occasional paranoid delusion of being creative

And finally, Day has no finality and it always merges imperceptibly into Night.
Day does not lead us into Night on a timetable set by light...
Day is the dread that the Night, however sweet, will not be long...


"How happy is the blameless vestal's lot?
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
Each prayer accepted and each wish resigned."

Happy Valentine's Day...Watch this great movie with a loved one...and fall in love with life again...


post oh-one for year oh-nine...
haven't been blogging for a while since i have been taking to heart something a friend of mine once asked, "u write when u are all cranky...u never write nice things"...
so i figured i will wait until i find something nice to write about for once. the counter-argument was always on that if i did write something nice, it probably would not be true.

counter-counter-argument now is that no body really cares if i write cranky stuff or least not the readers of this blog (who can be counted on the fingers of a man with a hand that is missing some fingers...)

intellectual arguments soon devolve to ineffectual arguments for me. so i will not counter the counter-counter one...(hey you coders out there, does blogger have a counter that validates the counts of my args? don't get upset all u syntax and code gurus...its just me blabbering again!)

so yeah...having rambled on a good while...lemme see if i can somehow reach the meat of what i am trying to say...

of late life has been boring to a horrifying had nothing to look forward to...nothing to look back and reminisce nostalgically (not entirely true since the past is always beautiful even if it was every bit as ugly then as the present is now...rose tinted one way glasses if you can call it that)...

so here i sit with seven novels that i intend to read (actually have begun three and suspended them animatedly)...
also am idling with two dvds from netflix as yet unseen and thrity-two more in queue...not to forget the nine that are on instant queue (again begun three and suspended animatedly)
i look at my collection of nearly five thousand six hundred songs every now and then and listen to one, two or three songs at a time that grab my fancy...

music is the one place i have found something to interest me these days. having discovered on online radio station thanks to my buddy who sent me the link, i have been discovering music and i am seeing a lot of links between bands, i read them up on wikipedia, vicariously live out their lives and listen to their songs as they occurred in points of their lives. its heady at times...

one of the direct consequences of the slacker revolution has been my immersion into grunge, alternative metal, speed metal, thrash metal and death metal in that approximate order.

so in what is the first of, something i hope to be my series of posts over the next uncertain days, months or (hopefully not) years, is my discussion to myself about grunge.

grunge/alternative metal are used interchangeably and mostly point to the sound of the seattle four who began it in the late 80s to the early 90s. before getting into the details of the seattle four (i came up with this imaginative term...the wiki-able term would probably be seattle sound), lets look at what led to the grunge movement in music.

the late 70s to early 80s of contemporary music devolved into glam rock and glam metal bands who were more concerned with their make-up eye-shadow and glitter than a modern day katy perry/britney spears...and these are men we are talking about...and the less that is said about their lyrical content the better...glorified by such masterpieces as "iiiiii...wanna rock n roll all night.....paaarty every dayyyy" over and over about 100 times in a 4 minute song overloaded with six guitars, a heavy drum kit, two to three vocalists and an insufferable keyboard player (personally no metal band should ever have a keyboard player no matter how cool avial sounds...)

needless to say some people had enough of these preening corporate puppets who churned out mindless album after album. the mid 80s saw the rise of a seattle based band known as soundgarden with a radically distorted guitar played by kim thayil (yep expat mallu in the works...) and furious four octave vocalist chris cornell. soundgarden had several abstract songs and music arrangements that had not been heard of back in the day and the fans who were looking for an iota of feeling in their music gravitated towards this seattle sound.

soundgarden lay a platform upon which a phenomenal new band stood and shone brighter than any other...nirvana...led by a tragic hero in the lines of jim morrison of the doors, kurt cobain was the god of grunge. his strangled vocals trapped the angst of a generation as he sang about love and loss. to this day i get goosebumps when i hear his voice on the radio.

close on the heels of nirvana followed anothe seattle band pearl jam with eddie vedder providing his own howling crazy vocals to back his angst ridden lyrics. there was even a trash talking war were kurt dismissed eddie and jam as being grunge rip-offs feeding of the nirvana success.

pearl jam however has remained alive for the longest and is the one band that still has potential to churn out an album in this century.

the last of the seattle four to burst on the music scene was alice in chains...and to my uninformed mind, this band shone brightest and for the shortest time. led by another lovely singer layne staley, the trauma of their songs is fresh to anyone who has felt alive and thus has felt pain at some time in their lives...

its of layne and curt that i will speak the most here simply because i wiki'd them the most and they are the only ones who are dead now...eddie and chris continue to make music in some form or shape to this day...even if soundgarden is long defunct and pearl jam is almost irrelevant...

both layne and kurt were born in sixty-seven, with kurt being the older. both had troubled childhoods with separated parents and traumatized school lives...both spiraled into drug addictions that played its part in their demise...both were uncomfortable in their own celebrity which may or may not have driven them deeper into their addictions...kurt blew his brains out on april fifth ninteen-ninety-four at a scary young age of twenty-seven...layne dropped out of limelight and public sight soon after kurt's death and eight years to the day, was found in his apartment dead from an overdose of cocaine and heroin on april fifth two-thousand-two...

eerie similarities apart, to me layne's addiction and devolution was more painful to even read about since the man clearly understood what it was doing to him and was powerless to stop it...whereas kurt seems to have depended on his addiction to release his pain from the real world.

its easy to dismiss both people as having taken the easy way out and not faced life. and we can even take some pride in ourselves not resorting to any debilitating addictions to handle our own messed up lives...but i feel we ought to acknowledge their struggle and take some inspiration from their pain and handle ourselves in the best way we can which does not hurt us or the ones we care about....friends, family and well wishers...

if i am not really making much sense, just go on and listen to a few songs by nirvana and alice in chains...make up your own mind about how you feel about them...and how you feel about me...

for now i am just soaking in music as i let life glide along its unhindered path...
nirvana - come as you are
nirvana - the man who sold the world
nirvana - where did you sleep last night
nirvana - all apologies
nirvana - basically grab the mtv unplugged album for nirvana...solid gold

alice in chains - rotten apple
alice in chains - nutshell (my personal favourite...very dear to me)
alice in chains - man in the box
alice in chains - angry chair
alice in chains - same rule as for nirvana...grab the mtv unplugged

p.s - some of you dear readers do not like this kind of music...and that's fine....i still love you all...

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Thursday, January 01, 2009


D1 :
cupid comes in the form of a cavalcade of trailers. g is left behind in the company of lone monkey
in the middle of the road.
g : wait guys, wait for me.
lone_monkey : hey g, it doesnt kill to spend some time with me.
g : dont stare at me, it creeps me out.
lone_monkey : can't control it.
g : lunges forward, to the small gap in the cavalcade. gets carried to D2.

l_from_D2 : l, you fuck up, what did you do to get her crazy.

D2 :
cupid comes in the form of a unbalanced feet. g loses her balance while jumping over the divider in the road,
loses her glasses. The glasses were shattered.
lone_monkey : hey g, can you see without them.
g : barely, i can see your shape only.
l : come hold my hand.
g_from_D1 emerges from between the trailers.
g_from_D1 : g, dont take his hand, hes a creep. hes a hopeless fucked up guy.
g : why do you say that.
helps her safely to the next side.
g : thanks l.
l jumps drags g_from_D1 and jumps back to D1.

D3 :
cupid is not seen and l is waiting for him. g is getting impatient waiting to cross the road.
l : hey g, do you see me.
g : doesnt hear l.
l shakes g holding her sholders.
l : i am here, in flesh and blood. cant you see me.

PS : Blogger took me here through a button called New Post. But this is an (very)old post. Don't tell him :)