There were about 150+ posts on this blog. Now there are 40 remaining. If you want to read the rest of them please click older post button below.
And thanks readers, for everything.
21 July 2010
Last post
This is the last post on Even Odd.
I have chosen to delete a few posts from Even Odd. Originally I had intended to delete the entire blog all together, but then I felt may be I should leave behind the ones that gave me a sense of accomplishment and delight after I wrote them.
There were about 150+ posts on this blog. Now there are 40 remaining. If you want to read the rest of them please click older post button below.
And thanks readers, for everything.
There were about 150+ posts on this blog. Now there are 40 remaining. If you want to read the rest of them please click older post button below.
And thanks readers, for everything.
03 June 2010
Three seconds
When I am least expecting
You barge into my mind
Disarm all my defenses
And sedate me against my will
And I feel 'melting away'
Slowly in chunks
You barge into my mind
Disarm all my defenses
And sedate me against my will
And I feel 'melting away'
Slowly in chunks
18 April 2010
MYOPIA
Ocular defect
With smile you concluded
And on a piece of white paper
Glasses you recommended.
What would you recommend for
A mind that refuses to see beyond
The nearest hedonistic veil
When it decides?
13 April 2010
11 April 2010
The New Wall
The blue skies
And green leaves
Are so ordinary
When juxtaposed
Against a wall
Freshly whitewashed
Every passing gaze
Upon it rests admiringly
And the wall stands still
Like a proud man
Whilst the tree shakes
For attention
There is a wall on one side
And soon there will be
Three more
Enclosing the eye
In the cosy comforts
Of it's well-lit interiors
Then a window
Would be an innovation
When the whole mind
Could be free
For how else
Can a roof be without walls?
And green leaves
Are so ordinary
When juxtaposed
Against a wall
Freshly whitewashed
Every passing gaze
Upon it rests admiringly
And the wall stands still
Like a proud man
Whilst the tree shakes
For attention
There is a wall on one side
And soon there will be
Three more
Enclosing the eye
In the cosy comforts
Of it's well-lit interiors
Then a window
Would be an innovation
When the whole mind
Could be free
For how else
Can a roof be without walls?
10 April 2010
- untitled -
The sodium bulbs
And their incandescent glow
Light the tall metalwork
That obstructs my vision
It used to be green once
And dark at nights
And quiet enough
To hear lizards walking
Doesn't it feel nice
To think on a tiled floor?
It was a bit eerie then
To hear echoes in an empty room.
The weekend drill
Goes through my brain
And I feel helpless like a frog
Anesthetized on a wax tray
For the so mediocre
In so many numbers
More cubicles
More bogs
And their incandescent glow
Light the tall metalwork
That obstructs my vision
It used to be green once
And dark at nights
And quiet enough
To hear lizards walking
Doesn't it feel nice
To think on a tiled floor?
It was a bit eerie then
To hear echoes in an empty room.
The weekend drill
Goes through my brain
And I feel helpless like a frog
Anesthetized on a wax tray
For the so mediocre
In so many numbers
More cubicles
More bogs
08 April 2010
YOU MUST KNOW
I am no prince,
You are no princess.
And no bird is singing for us,
And a flower is a flower,
And the rivers just flow,
And there is no magic
In the glow of fireflies.
I just told you lies.
You are no princess.
And no bird is singing for us,
And a flower is a flower,
And the rivers just flow,
And there is no magic
In the glow of fireflies.
I just told you lies.
26 February 2010
-untitled-
It's all tranquil
Like the surface of water
All the way down till the chin
Where as if perturbed by a pebble
Is a dimple
Cute and thoughtful.
Like the surface of water
All the way down till the chin
Where as if perturbed by a pebble
Is a dimple
Cute and thoughtful.
24 February 2010
55 Fiction:
-Untitled-
"It's a boy".
Every time the doctor had said these words, the entire corridor would burst with cheers. Even strangers would rush in to congratulate the father.
Today no such thing happened.
Instead two men in uniform uttered brisk words and left hurriedly.
That was all the doctor could say about the found body parts.
(p.s.: you may like these: Sin of the midnight, Erotica Limited and Faith)
"It's a boy".
Every time the doctor had said these words, the entire corridor would burst with cheers. Even strangers would rush in to congratulate the father.
Today no such thing happened.
Instead two men in uniform uttered brisk words and left hurriedly.
That was all the doctor could say about the found body parts.
(p.s.: you may like these: Sin of the midnight, Erotica Limited and Faith)
10 February 2010
IN THE MIND
Cold morning, a bucket full of cold water and one semi-nude boy of eleven shivering next to it. He watched the surface of still water with hesitation. The thought of even one cold drop on his dry skin send him flinching back.
He gathered courage. Arms across his chest, torso away from the bucket, he stretched his leg cautiously to poke the surface with his toe... As if a long year paused - everything suddenly froze down - the water started to crackle in glee - and green eyes looked out of the bucket with hungry saliva drooping - and the pressure around his ears dropped - his hands became numb and little nasty red things started flying out of the water... He knew this was about to happen - the water God has been real hungry. His toe waited at the threshold of the water God's world - waited to be devoured in grim delight...
"School time beta! Hurry Up!"
"Yes Ma!"
In went the toe and with it all the green eyes, red fairies vanished. Mountains became molehills again. Everything back to ordinary.
X-X-X-X
Imaginary butterflies fluttered over the heads. The sunshine was also comfortable. After all ignorance is bliss. And that old brat went on and on like a trained parrot. A few heads dropped not able to resist the powers of the somber lullaby. But one student somewhere in the middle smiled.
"... you must conquer your fears before you conquer the world. So students I want you to write 250 words on this..."
He gathered courage. Arms across his chest, torso away from the bucket, he stretched his leg cautiously to poke the surface with his toe... As if a long year paused - everything suddenly froze down - the water started to crackle in glee - and green eyes looked out of the bucket with hungry saliva drooping - and the pressure around his ears dropped - his hands became numb and little nasty red things started flying out of the water... He knew this was about to happen - the water God has been real hungry. His toe waited at the threshold of the water God's world - waited to be devoured in grim delight...
"School time beta! Hurry Up!"
"Yes Ma!"
In went the toe and with it all the green eyes, red fairies vanished. Mountains became molehills again. Everything back to ordinary.
X-X-X-X
Imaginary butterflies fluttered over the heads. The sunshine was also comfortable. After all ignorance is bliss. And that old brat went on and on like a trained parrot. A few heads dropped not able to resist the powers of the somber lullaby. But one student somewhere in the middle smiled.
"... you must conquer your fears before you conquer the world. So students I want you to write 250 words on this..."
p.s.: words used - 250!
29 January 2010
RESPECT
Endless,
The blood cycles.
The silent pain.
Surely I would have fainted.
Nine months.
Is a divine time.
To carry desire.
Slow, growing and growing wait.
Torn,
To let live,
You bleed profusely.
Yet you smile at end.
Woman,
I am charmed.
Filled with awe.
You are God's best creation.
p.s.: paragraph 3 edited.
The silent pain.
Surely I would have fainted.
Nine months.
Is a divine time.
To carry desire.
Slow, growing and growing wait.
Torn,
To let live,
You bleed profusely.
Yet you smile at end.
Woman,
I am charmed.
Filled with awe.
You are God's best creation.
p.s.: paragraph 3 edited.
22 January 2010
VER(bo)SE
Compulsive but not rewarding,
The habits continue.
I am fatigued by the endless hope
Interjected by futile hours.
I wonder how does Sisyphus do it?
The habits continue.
I am fatigued by the endless hope
Interjected by futile hours.
I wonder how does Sisyphus do it?
28 October 2009
12 October 2009
Classroom stories
*Disclaimer: A few of the stories have been twisted a bit.*
Scene-1:
Prof: "This is some old stuff. I will skip this."
Students protest: "Sir NEW! NEW! NEW!"
Prof with a smile: "Exactly. That is what I am saying. You knew all these".
Scene-2:
Tam people have a very interesting accent. For example: "Waata Saar?" instead of "What Sir?"
or "Oooh thataa?" instead of "Oh! that?".
It so happened, a Teaching Assistant (T.A.) said this in I.C. Engines lab while explaining about the emissions from engine:
"Smoke and sootaa are both the same and are harmful".
I was absolutely amused and enlightened.
Scene-3:
In a certain exam everyone got numbers less than the number of fingers on both hands. The Prof asks: "Anyone having issues with addition of marks meet me"
A certain student in class:"What sir you can make addition mistakes when dealing with numbers less than 10?"!!
Scene-1:
Prof: "This is some old stuff. I will skip this."
Students protest: "Sir NEW! NEW! NEW!"
Prof with a smile: "Exactly. That is what I am saying. You knew all these".
Scene-2:
Tam people have a very interesting accent. For example: "Waata Saar?" instead of "What Sir?"
or "Oooh thataa?" instead of "Oh! that?".
It so happened, a Teaching Assistant (T.A.) said this in I.C. Engines lab while explaining about the emissions from engine:
"Smoke and sootaa are both the same and are harmful".
I was absolutely amused and enlightened.
Scene-3:
In a certain exam everyone got numbers less than the number of fingers on both hands. The Prof asks: "Anyone having issues with addition of marks meet me"
A certain student in class:"What sir you can make addition mistakes when dealing with numbers less than 10?"!!
07 October 2009
Unhurried Footsteps on Moonlit Path
There was time- enough time for them both before the sun rose. This night was theirs. He had traveled more than half the country's length to see her and she had sneaked out of her home after midnight to see him.
She was a bit nervous as she waited. Someone walked in from the darkness. Anxious eyes searched the other's face. The joy of recognition - a sudden twinkle in their eyes. A smile broke on their faces which narrowed a bit as if to ask: "how are you?", but then it grew wider unrestrained like the gushing flood water. Yes it was flood indeed - of emotions - never had they imagined they would meet like this! They were thrilled! Absolutely overjoyed!
For a split second they couldn't decide what to say for they had so many things to say all at once.
He was the first who spoke:
"Miss Nautanki - "
"Haat! I am not talking. Is this a time to meet?"
"Theek hai. I am going back then."
"Oyee - ruk toh! Mein to awevi bol diya.."
"Mein itney dur sey aya - tujhe awevi lagta hai?"
"Arey nehein..."
Before she could say anything: "Ab chup! Pata hi hoga tera naam nautanki kyun rakha hai?".
More smiles. They weren't those sophisticated lovers, you know, who need to present expensive gifts to profess love. For them just being together was enough!
Smiles grew to laughs that reverberated the silent night. At first she was a bit like: "Don't you laugh so loud - others might listen". But eventually his charm did the trick - she was laughing uncontrollably at his silly "useless" jokes. Useless is in quotes because thats what she called them.
Talks were varied. It hardly had anything to do with love. They talked about the coffee shop, the drying lake, the traffic, their classes, their frustrations, their joys, their lives... Far away the city lights twinkled. Nothing had changed except that two people now were no more two.
They walked, in silence. For not always they needed words to talk. A smile would suddenly creep their face like a flash illuminating their pretty faces as they would have remembered something very embarrassing that had happened to them. And they continued to walk weighing the words carefully before speaking. One of them was a poet you know!
They seemed to be mesmerized. Life was enchanting. Life seemed like spirit inside a bottle - intoxicating, volatile. They wanted to enjoy every minute as dawn approached. Yet like spirit in the bottle time was vaporizing fast and they tried but in vain to catch falling sand with their hands.
Train at 8:30. He has to leave. Never had he felt more helpless - he wished time would freeze.
Byes are indeed a difficult thing.
-X-X-X-
As the train speed past the forests he stood at the door, air gushing past him, his eyes cast leeward. She walked home in disbelieve - she actually met him and he left already! She was shaken.
p.s.: Apologies readers - I wasn't able to write regularly. But I promise I will continue writing.
Thanks a lot for your support, especially a special friend who pushed to me write a multiliner! This post is dedicated to them :)
She was a bit nervous as she waited. Someone walked in from the darkness. Anxious eyes searched the other's face. The joy of recognition - a sudden twinkle in their eyes. A smile broke on their faces which narrowed a bit as if to ask: "how are you?", but then it grew wider unrestrained like the gushing flood water. Yes it was flood indeed - of emotions - never had they imagined they would meet like this! They were thrilled! Absolutely overjoyed!
For a split second they couldn't decide what to say for they had so many things to say all at once.
He was the first who spoke:
"Miss Nautanki - "
"Haat! I am not talking. Is this a time to meet?"
"Theek hai. I am going back then."
"Oyee - ruk toh! Mein to awevi bol diya.."
"Mein itney dur sey aya - tujhe awevi lagta hai?"
"Arey nehein..."
Before she could say anything: "Ab chup! Pata hi hoga tera naam nautanki kyun rakha hai?".
More smiles. They weren't those sophisticated lovers, you know, who need to present expensive gifts to profess love. For them just being together was enough!
Smiles grew to laughs that reverberated the silent night. At first she was a bit like: "Don't you laugh so loud - others might listen". But eventually his charm did the trick - she was laughing uncontrollably at his silly "useless" jokes. Useless is in quotes because thats what she called them.
Talks were varied. It hardly had anything to do with love. They talked about the coffee shop, the drying lake, the traffic, their classes, their frustrations, their joys, their lives... Far away the city lights twinkled. Nothing had changed except that two people now were no more two.
They walked, in silence. For not always they needed words to talk. A smile would suddenly creep their face like a flash illuminating their pretty faces as they would have remembered something very embarrassing that had happened to them. And they continued to walk weighing the words carefully before speaking. One of them was a poet you know!
They seemed to be mesmerized. Life was enchanting. Life seemed like spirit inside a bottle - intoxicating, volatile. They wanted to enjoy every minute as dawn approached. Yet like spirit in the bottle time was vaporizing fast and they tried but in vain to catch falling sand with their hands.
Train at 8:30. He has to leave. Never had he felt more helpless - he wished time would freeze.
Byes are indeed a difficult thing.
-X-X-X-
As the train speed past the forests he stood at the door, air gushing past him, his eyes cast leeward. She walked home in disbelieve - she actually met him and he left already! She was shaken.
p.s.: Apologies readers - I wasn't able to write regularly. But I promise I will continue writing.
Thanks a lot for your support, especially a special friend who pushed to me write a multiliner! This post is dedicated to them :)
17 September 2009
Two-lines
Swine flu doesn't differentiate between rich and poor, or man and woman, or young and old. Therefore the name of the virus is "Hi! anyone?" (H1N1)
10 September 2009
ASHAMED
I want a blanket
To hide myself.
The mocking whispers
Chase me everywhere.
The ridicule,
The contempt,
I the butt,
I am the branded.
Dignity lost.
Credibility too.
The little esteem
Bleeds within!
Regrets fill my eyes.
I wish I could
Turn back time
Towards the innocence.
09 September 2009
06 September 2009
Guest Post
THE ART OF GOD:
An unusual holiday I thought it would be. Peeping out of the Scorpio window, I had expected to get some countryside view but then I thought I was expecting way out from a fast growing nation- all I could see were “concrete forests”. It was “Kurud”, a small town in central India. So, as it had turned out to be totally different from what I had expected my days were generally spent sulking in the hotel room, checking out all the cuisines that it provided.
Yet another afternoon, I sat considering what new dish to try when I came to know that it was decided that we were going to visit a local artist, Basant- a small town guy who had caught international attention.
“Finally I’ll be seeing some intellectual dude”, I thought.
So when I finally reached the place, I was quite surprised to see a humble abode in front of me- quite simple for an international personality. Expecting to see some professional painter, confident strokes, absorbed in yet another creation, flaunting away his locks and everything fit to make him grab the protagonist’s role in Mills and Boons, I slowly made my way into his small room.
Yes, he was there, behind the canvas. But there was some mistake! What I saw next made my very soul wince as if I was falling into some abyss. My whims disintegrated, crumbled by the weight of reality.
A thin lean fellow, sitting on a wheel chair, his whole body paralyzed. He had stuck the paintbrush between his index and middle finger. Just so miraculous it was, the deftness with which he made those fine strokes-the warhorse already set into motion.
A mechanic by profession, he was the sole earner in the family, the only hope. But the gruesome twist of fate, a road mishap and his whole body paralyzed. Now the pillar had collapsed.
But from here the story actually begins. He was now born as an Artist. The physical disability was suppressed by eternal ability.
The magic began as he discovered solace in art.
We took a stroll in his art gallery, painting after painting, more cheers with each battle won.
“Gift god”, somebody uttered absent mindedly causing the other to make the correction.” You mean God gift,” he said.
No he was right, it was a “gift god” indeed. God had handed himself out to the artist. The divine creations still remind me of the enriching experience, slowly whispering in my mind of “the art of god.”
- Tulika Singh.
(Tulika is a good friend. She is a special friend of Anirban, the guy who knows a lot about me actually.)
*based on a real-life story.
An unusual holiday I thought it would be. Peeping out of the Scorpio window, I had expected to get some countryside view but then I thought I was expecting way out from a fast growing nation- all I could see were “concrete forests”. It was “Kurud”, a small town in central India. So, as it had turned out to be totally different from what I had expected my days were generally spent sulking in the hotel room, checking out all the cuisines that it provided.
Yet another afternoon, I sat considering what new dish to try when I came to know that it was decided that we were going to visit a local artist, Basant- a small town guy who had caught international attention.
“Finally I’ll be seeing some intellectual dude”, I thought.
So when I finally reached the place, I was quite surprised to see a humble abode in front of me- quite simple for an international personality. Expecting to see some professional painter, confident strokes, absorbed in yet another creation, flaunting away his locks and everything fit to make him grab the protagonist’s role in Mills and Boons, I slowly made my way into his small room.
Yes, he was there, behind the canvas. But there was some mistake! What I saw next made my very soul wince as if I was falling into some abyss. My whims disintegrated, crumbled by the weight of reality.
A thin lean fellow, sitting on a wheel chair, his whole body paralyzed. He had stuck the paintbrush between his index and middle finger. Just so miraculous it was, the deftness with which he made those fine strokes-the warhorse already set into motion.
A mechanic by profession, he was the sole earner in the family, the only hope. But the gruesome twist of fate, a road mishap and his whole body paralyzed. Now the pillar had collapsed.
But from here the story actually begins. He was now born as an Artist. The physical disability was suppressed by eternal ability.
The magic began as he discovered solace in art.
We took a stroll in his art gallery, painting after painting, more cheers with each battle won.
“Gift god”, somebody uttered absent mindedly causing the other to make the correction.” You mean God gift,” he said.
No he was right, it was a “gift god” indeed. God had handed himself out to the artist. The divine creations still remind me of the enriching experience, slowly whispering in my mind of “the art of god.”
- Tulika Singh.
(Tulika is a good friend. She is a special friend of Anirban, the guy who knows a lot about me actually.)
*based on a real-life story.
04 September 2009
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