Plucking the petals

A few of us are fortunate enough to witness to so many varied things in this world, including the most shaddy and miserable ones. Like, I have been witness to so many hard real facts about our this little world, that a normal person is so igonrant and meldramatic about it and he cannot possibly even fathom that its all part of the same beautiful little wonderful world of his. May be ones you would come across that other side , your perceptions too shall change. Your tolerance for others shall increase. May be then you shall realise how alone one can be in the crowd. Where your mind seeks everything and ends up having nothing and still keeps the search on with an everending and unrelenting quest. I go through that shit every morning. But there comes a time always.

It happened to little Johnny today. It is all such a routine, he wakes up, smokes his cigratte, stands in front of the mirror, looks straight into his hollow eyes, looks at his dirty teeth, scrubs it with his nails and carries on with his daily chores. And everything without giving a thought, not a thing. He does want to think and and now he cannot put a clear thought except for one little teeny thing all the time and all the way. And he almost went to the crest or nadir god know s what in the deapths or heights of emptiness. All the actions are so mechanical and so routine that hardly he gives a thought to it. Its a system on auto.

But something happened today. All of a sudden, it flashed to him. It flashed that he wanted today to be special. And he wanted it real bad. That is actually a bad moment. The moment the hope creeped in he was scared, but a feeling had risen and it shall not die down soon , he knew that. But somewhere apart from the hope he had this hunch in the gutss that indeed its now or never. He started betting that if it did not turn out to be today for one time, he shall be shattered. Because you got to understand some one who had not seeked , hoped and expected in years can't take a change so easily. He needs it badly and wants to yet stay away from it forever. And with hope inside bloody like helll it everything starts meaning to him. He wants to bring an end to the misery. To renew his faith. To kindle one light of hope. For one time, just for a moment, he wanted his wish to come to true. Nothing more, he is ready to go back to the dungeon but today it has to be there, something special, something to be able to smile from his heart.

And then Little Johnny walked in this scrabby store. From the corner of his eyes , in a fleeting second , something someone passed by . The very moment his mind fluttered, he thought of his morning, he thought of everything. And he knew it, he very fucking well knew it. This was it , this was it......this ...was ...divine....pure.

Jules...

"There's a passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.

I been sayin' that shit for years. And if you ever heard it, it meant your ass. I never really questioned what it meant. I thought it was just a cold-blooded thing to say to a motherfucker before you popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this mornin' made me think twice. Now I'm thinkin': it could mean you're the evil man. And I'm the righteous man. And Mr. 9mm here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could be you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin', Ringo..... I'm tryin', ...... Trying real hard to be a shepherd. "

P.S Or may be I am the charity, good will...or may be I am the Valley of darkness :) ...... or may be this is all a joke and we are all funny jokers. I would like that.

Oh Billy !

Some mornings are really funny. I mean out of now where, in my favourite pass time of thinking about life, I feel about the life of a NYPD cop on the streets. I mean, he has some life guys. Like just he's on his morning shift on a particularly windy mornings, dressed up like a thorough smart guy. Suddenly the radio beeps and like Charlie, Tango we have a hostage situation at a Bank around the corner. And all of them gather around the building, cordon of the area and start thinking and meticulously planning. With people around watching, amazed and excited. The neat streets with pretty things in scarfs and skirts walking around. And this guy in neat blue dress, munching on this burger, sipping on this coke and taking drag after drag of his cigrattes, concerted and focused on saving lives of innocent civilians and nailing down this extremely sharp professional team of bank robbers and becoming a hero. And sometimes these guys can sip on rum and vodkas because its going to be fucking cold. Kewl

And if thats not enough, think about this, they have all the gadgets and gizmos one would aspire for. They have vests, phones, guns, night visions, snipers on terraces and even the freaking satellites at their disposal. I mean their pretty ass is so fully covered. All they need to have a teeny weeny little bit of luck, which ofcourse god owes to give every one on this planet and their ass is safer than our politicians money in Swiss banks. And after all this technological marvels at his disposal if something untoward happens, they just did not have luck, and then what has happened has happened. Thats it. No ones to be blamed. At least thats my view from typical Indian standards of police. All said and done, I guess they have a adventurous life.

And,I don't realize why do people on a pleasant spring mornings have to sit in the bus with closed windows . Why ? . Why-why-why?. And out of nowwhere I think Moby plays great songs. Just great to kick off your day in spirit that s sober, sad, funny and yet smiling. A sweet mystry surrouding everywhere. And how would you feel with your ear phones blasting with James Bond techno Theme in mornings. Watching with a frown and suspicioius eyes to all those who board the bus. The old guys , the kids, the conductor, every ones a friend and every ones a enemy. But damn it wheres the Bond Girl. Damn Damn Damn ! .

And out of now where your eyes gets glued to the kids little fingers holding his mothers. Both of them lost in thoughts. Ones innocent the others wordly. But the fingers keep playing with each other in a soft trance of ignorance and withing fleeting second James Bonds turned to Picasso.

And you realise you could have been so many persons. You could have been a Astronaut. You could be a piolet. You could be any god damn thing in this world and yet survive and be happy. The pitch of the flute rises and suddenly the chains cut and the stone hurls to the sky. In tangent. Just far away. But alas, on this planet gravity is just enough to pull it down. But every morning I start it this same way, I am hurled to the sky before crashing down.

When will it stop humming. When?

Billy's leaving today (don't know where he's going).
Holds his head in disgrace (he can't escape the truth).
He knows the price that he's paid.
He admits that it's too late to admit that he's afraid.
Tomorrow comes. Sorrow becomes his soul mate.
The damage is done. The prodigal son is too late.
Old doors are closed but he's always open,
To relive time in his mind.
Oh Billy.
Billy's leaving today (don't know where he's going).
He's got lines on his face (they tell the story of his pain).
He accepts it's his fate.
He admits it took too long to admit that he was wrong.
Tomorrow comes. Sorrow becomes his soul mate.
The damage is done. The prodigal son is too late.
Old doors are closed but he's always open,
To relive time in his mind.
Oh Billy.
Once he was a lover sleeping with another.
Now he's just known as a cheat.
And he wish he'd had a mirror; looked a little clearer.
Seen into the eyes of the weak.
Tomorrow comes. Sorrow becomes his soul mate.
The damage is done. The prodigal son is too late.
Old doors are closed but he's always open,
To relive time in his mind.
Oh Billy.

Hey Billy ! ..Where are you going, bruv? I am coming too.

I like the word Fcuk.

"non sunt in coeli, quia fvccant vvivys of heli"

I mean don't take it literally, its just the feel of it, the connotation that comes along with, so to say. I guess, like me, most people do not intend to convey the literal meaning whenever this horrible slang is used. And on the side lines, lets give the due credit to the popularity of the defamed word like it. The many versions, meanings and literal expression s of this word are undeniably present in almost all societies, cultures and languages- and if its not there then surely that society is not bound to exists. Does it not mean that its an important blunt truth of human nature ?And still we turn a blind eye to the universality and omnipresence of this poor soul. On one hand I even feel that why these words are called " slang's ", I mean put them in the dictionary folks, have some logic, if you don't have that, have a heart guys, theres a limit to the " beeps" and mute s sound s in the movies, I can bear. I mean the hero comes howling across seven shores and grabs the neck of villain and say, " You twisted - tun . tun- you." . Or like in a romantic scene in a hollywood flick, " oh honey, my baby, I so want to -tun- you". And you feel like any second your brain will split wide open.Why can't people see the clear futility of censorship ?

There are many words in this category - Shit and likes. But I must say I like this word Fcuk. I mean, its- good. The feel of it. The versaility of it is suprisingly amazing. The simplicity in usage with proper pronouciation makes it so user friendly in all situations. When you are like pissed off on something , you can scream Fcukkk. Sometimes, just like that you are sitting idle, no one around, thinking about something , out of no where, you might use it - Fcuk You. Emphasising each seperately and distinctly - Fcuk and then slowly You. And like you hear a tragic sad shocking news and you gather all the little energy in your voice and utter a meek - Fcuk . That-is-it. You convey your deepest, sentiments, feeling of loss and despair very clearly.

And like sometimes, you are driving car at 100 miles per hour, recollecting some embarrassing moment in past, a bitter burning memory, a beautiful past degraded and soiled by todays values and you shriek out so loud exhaling every thing ...FCUKKKKKK. Its does not come from your heart or brain , it s like straight frm the bottom of your guts, and out of now where you bang the car right ahead. This aggressive guy jolts out of the car looks at the bonnet and then at you , starts mouthing of , boasting and blabbering and you listen and listen and listen to the pompous bastard and after a while you can feel the agony surging in the guts, mind getting heavy, loaded, fatigued and blank ..and you shriek - FCUK YOU MAN. AND SMACK HIS FILTHY FACE. Relived. Like bloody gallons of pressurised air purged out from a tiny orifice. Peace. Now you following me. Tell me no where do you use the word to convey with a literal meaning. Rarely, rarely do you mean what you say. I most things in life I think thats true. There is a miles of difference in preaching and practising. :). So stop the fcuk lessons. I guess we should stop fcuking fooling around and lets stop pretending what we are not.

Also , I have noticed, for most youngersters and wanna be rebels, the usage of this mighty word starts like a style statement. But you got to understand the veiled glory of it. Now you know, my opinon , respect and affection for this word, but still I cannot use it in it s original form while I write this blog. Whyyyy ??? Because some moron in power, some or some good-for-nothing freaking CEO or MP or some one would not approve of it in public space. And at worst would censor blog and file a case against me! Which, of course, I don't want to happen. Really. Its my blog- it is my expression, it is my voice, I want it heard. I want it heard out loud and clear. So FUCK IT ANY WAYS.

So my lord, here I would like to rest my case and would request the jury to leave this word to its fate and at people discretion. At best I would recommend not to use the word with adjectives and adverbs. And if you don't like it, I don't care, Fuck that too.

Just set things free from your hypocrisy and prejudice.


"they are not in heaven because they fuck the wives of Ely"

P.S : I have not mentioned the usage of word "literally" in private space as in my opinion private space should remain private. On the other hand, the apporopriate use of this word in the personal domain has heightened excitement levels or so I was told. The author would not bear the responcibilites of goof-up by usage of this word.

Sometimes you just don't have anything to fight for.

Faeen Mornin fellas ....u naw wy tis faeen?

Rocky Balboa: "What is it you said to the kid? The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It's a very rough, mean place... and no matter how tough you think you are, it'll always bring you to your knees and keep you there, permanently... if you let it. You or nobody ain't never gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't about how hard you hit... it's about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward... how much you can take, and keep moving forward. If you know what you're worth, go out and get what you're worth. But you gotta be willing to take the hit. "

Nick Cave:
you roll me at your sides
you shot me down
Though I had no enemy here
you get me very near and shoot me down
shoot me down
your hands they flutter up
-?-
and shoot me down... in flames

Stand back baby, stand back and let me breathe
I think I must be filin' outta here
I can hear the grass grow
I can hear the melting snow
I can feel your breath against my ear
I might just disappear
Yeah, wouldn't that be nice?
Yeah, wouldn't that be nice?
Well, wouldn't that be nice?

I look into your eyes
it comes as no great surprise
you're gonna shoot me down
shoot me down
I know that when you smile
it'll only be a short little while
Shoot me down... in flames

Shoot me down
in flames....
you're gonna shoot me down
shoot me down
shoot me down in flames
shoot me down in flames

Copyright infringement ! ...Shoot me down.

Dich.kyaun.

I always wanted to quit....

On a Monday morning. Since That turned out to be a holiday. I quite on a Tuesday morning. But I have quit. The worrying part is I am developing this habit of quitting, that too important things in life.

And while I was having a sort of exit interview, as general discourse- the boss said, “ See, one either has to do things you like, or one has to like what he’s doing. That’s the funda in life. “ I was like ohh yeah. Fcuking great quote. But you ain’t G.B Shaw, bro. But I don’t know, for some reason the opening and closing lines of a movie came to my mind. May be I have been watching it over so many times that like a dark soot it has settled on my conscious. Or may be that I think those are very close to truth of a pedestrian life .

Opening lines ( Back ground Chris Barris ).

“ When you’re young your potential is infinite. You might do anything, really. You might be great. You might be Einstein. You might be De Maggio. Then you get to an age where what you might be gives way to what you have been. You weren’t Einstein. You weren’t any thing. That’s a bad moment. But I remembered something Carlyle wrote: “ ..there is no life of a man, faithfully recorded, but is a heroic poem of its sort, rhymed or unrhymed.” I realize my salvation might be in recording my wasted life, unflinchingly. May be it would serve as a cautionary tale. May be it would help me understand why?.

I too strongly believe the way my life is taking its course and if I’ll be recording it unflinchingly, it would be exactly that cautionary tale. I mean life mostly is like multiple choice question. Observe a few lives ( I can recommend a few ), you would not find right answer, but surely you can eliminate wrong options. And after all, solving multiple choice questions in a limited time requires more of elimination than finding the right answers. Having said that I must say, there are still a few blokes who would still experiment and learn it all the hard way. Sad !. But without them its not much fun right?.

Closing lines

“You know, I came up with a new game show idea recently. It’s called The Old Game Show. You got three old guys with loaded guns on stage. They look back at their lives, see who they were, what they accomplished, how close they came to realizing their dreams. The winner is the one who doesn’t blow his brains out. He gets a refrigerator. “

And here lies the gifted divine human virtue of hope. I kow a lot of people who would still fight dearly to win that refrigerator. People would miss out on so many little wonderful things, just to perform on their judgement day. Sometimes, people are so over-zealous as to the point of madness for seemingly trivial achievements. Its kind a funny. But I don’t know, feels like I want to wreck such peoples face.

I really think I do not gel into Darwins Theory. And I’ve found a new purpose in life. I want to be the advocate of the unfit. :)

P.S Quiz time for the curious minds. Do I regret my decision? Well no. Do I have any reasons, well, I’ve not started recording my life. :) Is my view one of pessimism? That reminds me of another line from the same movie:
“ Listen you are thirty two years old and you’ve achieved nothing. Jesus Christ was dead and alive by thrity-three. Better get cracking”. So the good news is, I’ve got a few more years to go. J. I am not pessimistic, but I am human ( yes I am ) in flesh and blood and meri bhi fat-ti hai.

Tell me which movie am i quoting ? :)

Adios.

Fading murmurs from the hole

Location: Promised land

Time: 2.00 a.m

Its not that I am not used to be awake this late. I have done that a lot many times. But rarely does it happen when I feel so freaking numb. At this hour I have nothing beautiful and wonderful in life, to share with anyone. In fact, just a few moments ago I was thinking how it would feel to be in a hole. By hole, I mean to say the hole they keep talking about in the prison jails, and showing in the Hollywood movies. Do we ever try to actually feel such things as been holed up in just a small dark room with no light, no music, no books, no talks, no chit-chat, no noise and most of all no space to even maneuver your legs? And to keep you alive in the misery and suffer, on the platter there’s some filthy food and stinking water to drink. What would you do in such conditions? Would you be rendered capable to think?. If yes, what would you think?. Would you think about your past, cherish the wonderful moments you lived and bring a smile to your filthy face or would you think of the terrible sins you have done, the pain you have caused to the innocent sentiments, horrible things you have said in anger, people you have cheated, games you have played. Or would you just lie down cursing everything, every moment and every one in this world and venting out your anguish banging the walls with feet, trying to spread out a little. Or would you lie cursing, persuading and then begging fait or destiny or whatever sh*t to intervene for a little time, a little space. How would it be when your closed from the outside world and physically stretched to your limits? When you shriek out loud but theres no one to hear the cry. Left to listen only your own murmurs.

You don’t have to go to the hole to experience the numbness. A little of that you can feel lying on the bed, when there is so much noise in your head. The body keeps twisting and curling as if the mind has run freaking amok, incapacitated to give any single freaking instruction to control the senses. Whatever comforts be around it just won’t shut the system down and let you relax in peace. There’s craving for an external stimuli to make you f**king move to something somewhere, someplace. The muscles in the legs feel so unbearably uncomfortable, with the cramps that develop out of no where. Eyes keep burning for lack of sleep. The brain says-fcuk sleep, but something inside just wouldn’t relent to the command. An overarching urgency to quench your thirst, a desperation to fill the void with something. Something you seek from some place but down under inside, you know there is nothing to be found. There is no ultimate truth to be found. There is not hidden treasure of knowledge. You’ve spend your whole life seeking the knowledge of truth and all you could discover is death as the only certain reality. Before even you could find your so called fcuking purpose in life, you forsee the end of it, the clear futility of everything. The emptiness engulfs your mind. That’s what they meant, when they told, every action of yours is such a sheer waste of your precious little time, meaningless. The dawn of that factual reality is what would throw’s you rushing to the bottom less pit of numbness. Numb, you find you are so so so very betrayed and fooled in the world. And guess what, sadly you are going to serve this irrational, stupid, crude world and play the game all along.

With this harsh cruel realization you just stand up rush out early in the morning, trying to run from yourself. Alone you take a walk in the boulevard, lined with maple trees and the yellow leaves spread ahead of you. The river smilingly rushes besides. The burning eyes soothed with the site of sparkling river. You hear crackling of dried leaves under your feet, as if the nature whispering to you-there’s much more to the web of life, the mystery you seek to solve is not life, but its something between you and me. The cool breeze cleanses every inch of choked lungs with life. Willowing winds come with a distant laughter echoing the voices which said, you wanted to plant your garden and decorate your soul. The wind combing your hairs with its softness, swirls around like your lover, caressing your back, kissing on your neck and whispers with its warm breath, your quest is not for knowledge but for beauty, my beauty!. With your hands dug in your pocket, you walk along with her- Smile and then you both roar with silly laughter. Just like the first time you looked into her glittering deep eyes and smiled for unknown reason. All along your craved to absorb all its beauty finally you loose yourself in it. That’s when the shrieking cry submits to the mighty silence. You find solace in your dark hole and force a whistle to a song.