His usually gentle praise was so vulgar this time that she was actually happy of the monotony being broken of the fake appreciations.
Infact now of all the times,she loved him the most.
~Harsha
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Is Maharashtra not a part of India
This was one reply that I had written to Shobhaa after her open letter to Raj thackrey.
Just found it so thought to put it up here.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hi Shobhaa,
Now this is what we call a wonderful post.
Actually you made me wait long enough to read such an insightful post.
I totally completly wholly agree with your interpretation of Raj Thackery.
Marathi manoos,what the hell.
And not only him I am pained at the countless educated "INTELLECTUAL" people even here in the comments section who revel in this Marathi Manoos stupidity.
Fools have you people forgotten that there are already enough reasons for us to be at war with ourselves.
have you people forgotten the usless Babri masjid demolition,the Godhra carnage,subsequent Gujarat riots,attack on pub going women.
Are these not enough to increase animosity,that you want to create enemity even on the basis of place we were born.
How stupid of you to say that people are using Mumbai's water and resources,cause there would be your children too going to other places to study and for other reasons.Should they be labelled outcasts???
Or rather killed stupidly by a raging moronic mob withot a head but an even more stupid leader at their helm.
A Marathi manoos or an aam manoos all would be right if we are at peace with ourselves and believe that we are human beings first even before being Indians.
~Harsha
Just found it so thought to put it up here.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hi Shobhaa,
Now this is what we call a wonderful post.
Actually you made me wait long enough to read such an insightful post.
I totally completly wholly agree with your interpretation of Raj Thackery.
Marathi manoos,what the hell.
And not only him I am pained at the countless educated "INTELLECTUAL" people even here in the comments section who revel in this Marathi Manoos stupidity.
Fools have you people forgotten that there are already enough reasons for us to be at war with ourselves.
have you people forgotten the usless Babri masjid demolition,the Godhra carnage,subsequent Gujarat riots,attack on pub going women.
Are these not enough to increase animosity,that you want to create enemity even on the basis of place we were born.
How stupid of you to say that people are using Mumbai's water and resources,cause there would be your children too going to other places to study and for other reasons.Should they be labelled outcasts???
Or rather killed stupidly by a raging moronic mob withot a head but an even more stupid leader at their helm.
A Marathi manoos or an aam manoos all would be right if we are at peace with ourselves and believe that we are human beings first even before being Indians.
~Harsha
Monday, July 12, 2010
Think
Scratches borne,
Sweat glistened,
Angst dead,
Courage pronounced,
Thirst conscious I stood,
A sound mind,
the only asset worth flaunting seemed jammed.
Death was just a timely change,
the world too small to rob me of any happiness,
parity paired beyond disgust.
Am I really what I want to do.
Do I live for what I desire.
Sadly,am churning myself in incongruous levers of an utterly delicate machinery.
It is not their fault that they expect me to perform,
but mine cause I have planted the wrong expectations.
The time has come again
either to put things right
Or just to be RIGHT....
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Aao BANDH karein
Bandh,this word has elicited many a feelings deep down since childhood.
There was a time when this young mind felt extremely happy just by the name of this word.
Cause it meant a break from the everyday grime of scholastic school predators.
But as this mind grew wider so grew the bandhs.
Bandhs were not a nocturnal sighting of a rare owl anymore but the hood of that hissing cobra eating the house from inside.
And with bandhs came the bundle of venom of hate spewed across the cities,of livelihood lost,of families crushed,of extreme damage to public property,damaged rails,mutilated roads,scavenged buses and not to forget people.With changing times the types of bandhs too have changed.
Anything and everything from a hike in petrol prices to every other leader in the circle of arrest could and has instigated a bandh.Things have reached a proper planned process in such a way that the word Chakka jam,even if said in a friendly undertone by these people can be achieved in a very short span of time.
Varied parties that have been fighting cats and dogs keep coming together during these times so a to gain their part in the dead man's chest.Earlier it used to bother me that how educated people,who care for their family,their livelihoods could agree to bandhs.
But then it came to my knowledge that all you need is these executioners,with their gang of motley crowds,belt pulled for the required day.later they will fish their share in their eschewers.
Oh and the common man,yes he is there.These things,the bandhs have been so much in vogue that people actually helplessly take this as a welcome holiday and then there are people at lower tiers who can't stay at home but have to run a livelihood,.It is just that their livelihood for considerable amount of time shatters on that day.
Some leaders have said that they won't stop vehicles that have an emergency say a casualty,a childbirth.
thanks a tonne buddies.But can these poor souls cross already jammed roads till the point they can come to your patriots and explain that there is some serious concern.
All we want is souls who would agree to put our price hikes in proper ways rather than making us ourselves pay the price of rise in the prices.Well I haven't seen too much of violence in today's bandh but just cause of the bandh yesterday night's streetlamps kept working the whole day.
Anyways I can't do much.Soon there would be one more bandh,or should I call a welcome holiday.
And yes between the lines I have to go to work this saturday to settle the productive loss because of the bandh.
Alas one more holiday gone.
~Harsha
go go go
Its 2 in the night.One of my most powerful moments of the whole day,before dawn after night.I reign.I look.
But do i rule,or these are but my mind playing tricks with me.
Just now have made mental note to study for this year's big exams.
And then saw Russell peter's show and then I am again asking myself -Can I ever be at a place like that.
There is one profession that right now I am following and I pretty suck at it.But that's a respectable one.People are mad about it.You have tonnes of money in it,Only if one can mint it in the right way.
Probably,I can't.
And then there are things that I am good at,probably.
Things where my mind runs at lightning speed,probably,and there is value out there.But right now where I am its all considered plain crap.
Plan to write a novel,plan to host shows,plan to travel the world,plan to kick butt,plan to run on the roads now,plan to do my MBA by biting the cat real hard.PLAN.
This word itself has become a jeering question nowadays.
All my plans I have seen doing backflips in the dirtiest of the puddles.Yes,I have grown since these plans first surfaced but my position still remains as the remnant of the same stupid kid.
Aimlessly once more my eyes graze the virgin road taking seducive curves,all waiting to be trampled by me.Just feel like picking my bike and roving the road.
(Mental note to self:-Got to buy a bike)
Again have to organize myself.Have consistently been making my mind agree to the fact that this chain can't be torn,this shackle can't be defabricated.
Is that jeering road ruling me by calling me or is it I who am controlling it.
Is it me who is taking decisions and moulding life or rather it is life that is calling me names and just bending me in the situations.
What am I,a book keeper,a journal writer,an amateur,a coward,a liar,a pot bellied idiot,a dignified meek,a mundane lifestyle,an incongrous shakespere,an emanciated self...........
Drastically set goals tend to elongate like the life of a medically extended old soul.
Happy for the life but sad for the self.
Happy because I am afraid to die,sad because am not able to live.
Yes euthanasia is the only solution.Yes it is.
~Harsha
Monday, June 14, 2010
Whom do you call a monkey:India in my eyes
Chapter 1:
We never knew why it never happened.
Maybe it was because of the state of shoddy affairs of the country.Or because every other day a more substantial story had the power to rule the previous one out.Or maybe just because the issue too had long been forgotten like the crores of issues that became stories and finally faded into oblivion as a mere trace of "lokkatha(fairy tale)".But,well we somehow had a strong belief that it was the doing of kala bandar which we saw in the poster of Delhi-X in front of us the other day.
But,whatever the matter was finally the three of us were quite happy that it never happened.Cause,even with all facilities it would have been real tough to accommodate one more of us amongst us.And now when we have such a huge crunch of space in the city,with prices zooming sky high,a mall opening every other day, a bridge zapping in half every hour,who would have the patience and time to let another monkey monkey around.
We hardly care for people's life nowadays,so, giving a damn and that too a monkey and over that a lifeless statue of a monkey and boy did you know that a lifeless white monkey's statue along with us-phew,no chance.
So,as I said we were quite content with whatever the result or outcome it had converged into.
Oh,a bit of confusion.I see.
Let me first tell you who I am...or rather who we are.
Well,to be very true we don't have any name.
Our creators some poor sculptors left the work halfway,cause some of them were not paid enough,while the others were too lazy to get us finished.
Initially we had heard the news that the then political party wanted to portray an ideology shift.
You might have heard about a great freedom fighter- Mahatma Gandhi.
Got it-"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind."
Many of you may be hearing this at upfront railway stations in western countries when you would be busy kissing your girlfriends goodbye.And if you stay where we are and yet don't know him then it is a pity for the poor man himself cause you O fool have transcended the boundaries of insanity.
This great man of ours had a wonderful philosophy which he preached through our ancestors-Gandhiji's 3 monkeys.
As I said our ancestors i.e. these 3 monkeys had a wonderful style of their own.I was confused whether to use his or it for them cause most of you would call us another animal,but finally I being a monkey and that too a white statue have feelings more deep than you humans.
So the use of 'him' is not only pardonable but exquisitely necessary.
So,one of my ancestors had his hands on his eyes,one on his ears while the third one held his hands on his mouth.
Now they had this wonderful teaching to tell-Not to listen bad,not to see wrong,Not to talk foul or was it to stop bad breath,am not sure of the last one.
But,sadly our great ancestors were long forgotten like the great man himself.
Erased plain blank.As if there was no one who actually existed.
His only remembrance nowadays is the lack of liquor on his birthday.So,you would either have to empty wads of green currency notes to the corrupt khakhi balls or go for the country made cheap hooch and end up dying most of the time.
So this man as I said was long forgotten except for teh politicians on his birthday or when the TV showed Munnabhai.And with him forgotten were our three ancestors.And sadly one day these 3 grand dad's were bulldozed because of a wrong road expansion plan.You see this happens most of the time here,plan A eats plan B i.e. to say the constructor opts for whatsoever plan that helps him cover his township costs that he has been building,not to forget quenching the thirst from all parts of the society,from the government peon to the minister in power.
Sometimes we think that who benefits from all this because as we know every inlet has an outlet.Oh,don't take it in your dirty sense it is just the moment of money from one hand to the other,although what you thought was worthier than the same.
So,after my ancestors and their last bits were scraped from the chouraha(the four sided crossing),the then minister had a very noble idea.He wanted four monkeys placed at the same spot i.e. the center of intersection of the four roads each one facing each road.He called us as the new symbols of peace and at peace we were.Cause as we said that the sculptor was a poor lazy independent moron,He slowly and infinitely worked on us and that too with such detail that he forgot to make the fourth of us.
So,here we were the 3 of us waiting for the light of the day when one day we saw the sculptors working on a set of a lady's chiseled torso,I mean a newer statue complete with a purse.News was ripe that the man who hailed us in his ideology had lost the elections and lost were we.So,we sat here in scum eating dust,the 3 of us.A few days back,all that which had the promise of a shining skyscraper in the midst of a towering city had now melted into lonsome meadows.
And then there was no one but us.
And it was the first time.
The first time when precisely the 3 of us started talking to each other.
--------------------------------------------------------------
(3ww)erase, meadow, trace
We never knew why it never happened.
Maybe it was because of the state of shoddy affairs of the country.Or because every other day a more substantial story had the power to rule the previous one out.Or maybe just because the issue too had long been forgotten like the crores of issues that became stories and finally faded into oblivion as a mere trace of "lokkatha(fairy tale)".But,well we somehow had a strong belief that it was the doing of kala bandar which we saw in the poster of Delhi-X in front of us the other day.
But,whatever the matter was finally the three of us were quite happy that it never happened.Cause,even with all facilities it would have been real tough to accommodate one more of us amongst us.And now when we have such a huge crunch of space in the city,with prices zooming sky high,a mall opening every other day, a bridge zapping in half every hour,who would have the patience and time to let another monkey monkey around.
We hardly care for people's life nowadays,so, giving a damn and that too a monkey and over that a lifeless statue of a monkey and boy did you know that a lifeless white monkey's statue along with us-phew,no chance.
So,as I said we were quite content with whatever the result or outcome it had converged into.
Oh,a bit of confusion.I see.
Let me first tell you who I am...or rather who we are.
Well,to be very true we don't have any name.
Our creators some poor sculptors left the work halfway,cause some of them were not paid enough,while the others were too lazy to get us finished.
Initially we had heard the news that the then political party wanted to portray an ideology shift.
You might have heard about a great freedom fighter- Mahatma Gandhi.
Got it-"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind."
Many of you may be hearing this at upfront railway stations in western countries when you would be busy kissing your girlfriends goodbye.And if you stay where we are and yet don't know him then it is a pity for the poor man himself cause you O fool have transcended the boundaries of insanity.
This great man of ours had a wonderful philosophy which he preached through our ancestors-Gandhiji's 3 monkeys.
As I said our ancestors i.e. these 3 monkeys had a wonderful style of their own.I was confused whether to use his or it for them cause most of you would call us another animal,but finally I being a monkey and that too a white statue have feelings more deep than you humans.
So the use of 'him' is not only pardonable but exquisitely necessary.
So,one of my ancestors had his hands on his eyes,one on his ears while the third one held his hands on his mouth.
Now they had this wonderful teaching to tell-Not to listen bad,not to see wrong,Not to talk foul or was it to stop bad breath,am not sure of the last one.
But,sadly our great ancestors were long forgotten like the great man himself.
Erased plain blank.As if there was no one who actually existed.
His only remembrance nowadays is the lack of liquor on his birthday.So,you would either have to empty wads of green currency notes to the corrupt khakhi balls or go for the country made cheap hooch and end up dying most of the time.
So this man as I said was long forgotten except for teh politicians on his birthday or when the TV showed Munnabhai.And with him forgotten were our three ancestors.And sadly one day these 3 grand dad's were bulldozed because of a wrong road expansion plan.You see this happens most of the time here,plan A eats plan B i.e. to say the constructor opts for whatsoever plan that helps him cover his township costs that he has been building,not to forget quenching the thirst from all parts of the society,from the government peon to the minister in power.
Sometimes we think that who benefits from all this because as we know every inlet has an outlet.Oh,don't take it in your dirty sense it is just the moment of money from one hand to the other,although what you thought was worthier than the same.
So,after my ancestors and their last bits were scraped from the chouraha(the four sided crossing),the then minister had a very noble idea.He wanted four monkeys placed at the same spot i.e. the center of intersection of the four roads each one facing each road.He called us as the new symbols of peace and at peace we were.Cause as we said that the sculptor was a poor lazy independent moron,He slowly and infinitely worked on us and that too with such detail that he forgot to make the fourth of us.
So,here we were the 3 of us waiting for the light of the day when one day we saw the sculptors working on a set of a lady's chiseled torso,I mean a newer statue complete with a purse.News was ripe that the man who hailed us in his ideology had lost the elections and lost were we.So,we sat here in scum eating dust,the 3 of us.A few days back,all that which had the promise of a shining skyscraper in the midst of a towering city had now melted into lonsome meadows.
And then there was no one but us.
And it was the first time.
The first time when precisely the 3 of us started talking to each other.
--------------------------------------------------------------
(3ww)erase, meadow, trace
Kindly be patient and let me know what are the flaws.Planning to give it some good shape:)
Criticism would be highly appreciated.
~Harsha
Criticism would be highly appreciated.
~Harsha
Save me lord
I looked back and still I could see him.
The outline of that tall gaunt figure cleanly pressed against the damp wall was sending deep shivers down me.
I know it was coming,coming for me.
Coming as a reminder for all the days lost,of all the deeds did.
But even then I was afraid.
Afraid not of that figure but afraid of the feeling that would rise once I would meet him.
There was not a single voice heard,neither any word said,just the dark of the night.
I sensed something but before i could jump that obstacle I fell down.
With bleeding knees and a deep cut on my face,with blood oozing and entering my eyes,the figure grew even hazier.
I could taste blood on my tounge or rather was it sweat.I just hadn't the time to think and all I wanted was to run.
I ran again but could not.
I had ran all that I could.I had hid all that I could.
And then I asked myself how much more would I run,how many cuts I would bear.
And then exactly,precisely my world stopped.
And with it I stopped.
I turned back first time in my life to face him.
To call him and tell him that I was not afraid anymore,I am not AFRAID any more.
And then I saw him shrinking,scampering,moving away from me.
There was no one but just my fear,there never was anyone but just me in my fear.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have again turned ,to face the many fears that were troubling me,failures of sorts,failures of academics,of jobs...but then someday there ought to be a superhero,a saviour to save me.How many times would I wait for people to come and help me.After all this is my life,my trouble.Had been dejected since long afraid of those eyes,those jeering remarks,those rejected calls,those colleges where I failed to enter,those preparations am afraid to again undertake,that office job that I can't complete,that cab driver whose rudeness I can't reply back...
Someday it has to end.
Someday someone has to come to save me.
Happily I am my SUPERHERO.
And am on my mission.
~Harsha
The outline of that tall gaunt figure cleanly pressed against the damp wall was sending deep shivers down me.
I know it was coming,coming for me.
Coming as a reminder for all the days lost,of all the deeds did.
But even then I was afraid.
Afraid not of that figure but afraid of the feeling that would rise once I would meet him.
There was not a single voice heard,neither any word said,just the dark of the night.
I sensed something but before i could jump that obstacle I fell down.
With bleeding knees and a deep cut on my face,with blood oozing and entering my eyes,the figure grew even hazier.
I could taste blood on my tounge or rather was it sweat.I just hadn't the time to think and all I wanted was to run.
I ran again but could not.
I had ran all that I could.I had hid all that I could.
And then I asked myself how much more would I run,how many cuts I would bear.
And then exactly,precisely my world stopped.
And with it I stopped.
I turned back first time in my life to face him.
To call him and tell him that I was not afraid anymore,I am not AFRAID any more.
And then I saw him shrinking,scampering,moving away from me.
There was no one but just my fear,there never was anyone but just me in my fear.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have again turned ,to face the many fears that were troubling me,failures of sorts,failures of academics,of jobs...but then someday there ought to be a superhero,a saviour to save me.How many times would I wait for people to come and help me.After all this is my life,my trouble.Had been dejected since long afraid of those eyes,those jeering remarks,those rejected calls,those colleges where I failed to enter,those preparations am afraid to again undertake,that office job that I can't complete,that cab driver whose rudeness I can't reply back...
Someday it has to end.
Someday someone has to come to save me.
Happily I am my SUPERHERO.
And am on my mission.
~Harsha
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Conquered
The world is a stage
Interesting hmm
