Wish

 It felt like a bear hug. Holding someone, feeling her melt away in the arms. As goosebumps began to appear I just kissed her from neck down to lumbar, christening each cleft and each bump with the touch of my lips. 

As I reached the hips, the lips part to take a bite out of the forbidden apple cleft, as with each bite and slurp the moans grew. But it gave her the tingling feeling, her toes numb up as they curled but I didn’t do more. I had my hands hold hers and I moved up. I looked into those expectant eyes and breathe the same breaths trapped between two intertwined bodies as they met each other, oh so very briefly. 

The expectant eyes looked at me to see what I would do next. As the covers slowly drift away and we lose that sense of time, place or sounds of neighbours trying to put their kids to sleep. She just smiled, her mouth half open to gasp few good seconds of oxygen we dive back into the abyss of lips meeting each other and eyes slanting a close. 

You would think this is the best place, the best time, the best everything in the world; but it’s all about to change with every action - the emotions, the hormones and the thoughts make you take in the moment. You could be on Mars in a moment or an Amazonian jungle or the aurora borealis in Iceland; as the hold gets tighter around her, she sinks further into my grasp like softened butter and with every move she grasped my hair my shoulders trying to push me down as if a dish was ready and all I had to do was savour it. 

As the tip of the tongue and the nose works its way down her body, she couldn’t help but twitch. At about shoulders you could feel her squirm, at the breasts her eyes clear and mouth slightly ajar and the head dives back as it reaches the navel. All in a space of few seconds. The fun is just about to begin and she anticipates it, she encourages it. 

But I had some other intentions, I wanted her to have those feelings. I wanted her to wish for more. But I just stop there abruptly, waiting for a confirmation, a sign if you will. The strand of dna which can’t comprehend one from the other mockingly asks her 54 is 45 more what’s your answer my love. And she’s gasping, she try’s to figure out what just happened, she couldn’t if she wanted to. That’s what you want to ask me right now? Anticipating that I would just go back to it, but I didn’t. 

The grin got wider, I again asked her what is 54 minus 45. While she’s trying to calculate, I bit her cute heaving belly. (Why belly one might ask, cause it rhymes with jelly.) She says seven and there’s another bite and she couldn’t stop herself from looking for another gasp of air. She says nine and breathes a huge sigh of relief marked with a hint of pleasure as I begin again as soon as she gave the right answer. 

So, I asked what’s the number that comes before nine and she now caught the drift, she smiled held my head pushing it down with all her might, but I resisted. She tried harder and I still resisted. She begged and moaned as my lips and teeth didn’t fall lower to what she wanted. An interplay filled with mirth, moans and anticipation. One last time the hands meet each other as they squeeze each other in a sweat filled anticipation, she knew.

She knew she was ready for him, she knew she wanted something good to come out of it and she knew how to get it.

Nothing mattered, nothing; my thinning hairline or her thick gorgeous thighs wanting to wrap themselves around me. Deprive me of any oxygen what-so-ever, maim me, get back at me for all the build up and anticipation. Just like you, wishing for me to go lower, describe what I did, well, you got to wait for it.

Give me some sunshine!!

Morality is a questionable subject, 'Activists' think of themselves to be the messiah of the culture and the only saviour, well I disagree, if I found your trumpeting of your culture obscene should I too go and lodge a complaint? Look the other way.. you want to fight fight for hunger and the underprivileged children... But you won't.. I know you sick freak this is your political plank isn't it? That's how you will get eyeballs isn't it? Just FYI the show which you found crass, vulgar and in certain cases pornographic did donate a substantial sum towards charity, which you didn't, mind you.

Please clean your parties instead. Filth is in your minds and your operations not ours. We saw it, laughed, scratched our balls (you do too so please) and forgot about it. You are helping to make the show a hit. Damn guys at AIB didn't think of this at all. This is a good marketing strategy. But you continue to loot people in your creative ways, like your political membership drives and your CWGs and your destruction of property because a Mutu didn't become a backward class sect. First country in the world where everyone wants to be backward class.

Have you tried to censure yourself? Why did you watch the show through? Weren't you irked enough? If I watch something I don't like I change channels. Did you even try to minimize the browser? You were laughing weren't you? You sick freak, you enjoyed it didn't you? Also another question speaking of cultural censorship why was there a smart phone in the hands of a 9 year old child? Is that in your culture?

So just stopping short of making it a blog post, I say this, it's my right to do what I want. There is content I will choose whether to absorb it or not I don't need your help in convicting some people. If you say you found the show pornographic how did you know it is? Have you watched porn? If you have you have no right to file an FIR cause as I said the filth is in your mind not ours or theirs.

Plus if you can't laugh at yourself, you don't have the right to point fingers at the ones who can and take it sportingly. So why don't you go and assume a position, because that's what you gonna do Mr. Activist in front of your party high command.

Labz - The Big Bang Jam!

Dil ki baatein kaho, toh tum khafaa ho;
Pyaar ki jo baatein kaho, kyun tum khafaa ho;
Labz jo kuch bhi kahe, toh tum khafaa ho;
Nazron se jo na samjhoon, toh tum khafaa ho;

Raaton ki woh baatein, kuch fasaana kehti hai;
Dardon ka saath ho, toh chupki si lagti hai;
Taras pada jab man tera, Yaad tab aati hai;
Pareshaan ho jab man tera, labz kam padte hai;

Raahein nayi hai, Baatein nahi hai;
Baat kambakht saali banti nahi hai;
Tujh se milna hota nahi hai;
Ek laash si zindagi,lagne lagi hai;

Do dilon ka fasaana yahin;
Tere bin jeena nahi;
Labz kuch kehte nahi;
Jeeneywaala yeh zamaana nahi

The Metamorphosis of a Diary Entry

Its like being stuck in a pendulum, to and fro we go, I know we do. Those feelings do exist and then there is a damn diary, which devastates everything. I have a question, when I look back at relationships and I smirk away saying that, I was immature when I was in it, doesn't the same apply to the diary writing. How come the diary say that the time together was torrid yet there is not even one thought on the diary written itself.

Not that I ask to question the validity of data, I am just questioning the logic behind some of the things which have relegated me to the quaint corner of Satan's den. Or, atleast am being portrayed so. If it mattered a bit, wouldn't this thought itself be questioned or given a proper thought again.

I again, spin in a tizzy, at break neck speeds on the permutations and combinations of my life and the life changing decision making logic which I undertake. But then I looked back and I am sorry for some of the things, proud of some other things and definitely changed on certain aspects of my life. If I were to be seen in a different light wouldn't that be a fair fighting chance. I sit here thinking and typing what or rather how the things should have transpired.

I saw it, I saw it in the eyes, I saw the apprehended actions, I realized that the entire thing could have been avoided, it could have been different and that it can be different. At the basal level, it still exists. The feeling of togetherness, the feeling of caring for each other, then why speak as if it doesn't mean or one doesn't care. This thought stumps me on countless occasions during this past few days as I try to analyze the situation. I didn't even use a fish bone diagram to derive the causes and effects. I did a bit of soul searching, I still think there is room for improvement, the self manager in me shrieks and shuts up. This isn't an opportunity for the business student in me, its for the humanities, the poet or the writer. Countless times I have made the b-school student in me take the front seat and screw up everything.

Seemed fine back then to strive for those bouts of luxury that could make life better. It was for the later that I wanted to make the best. Believe me even today I only try for that. Having squandered things that have made my life reach here, all I can say is that what I did was for the collective good and not only for myself. Not the selfish frame that I have been drafted into. Convenience was something which I wasn't seeking, neither was I trying to make myself a hero in the situation. I was trying and was trying hard to deliver, which I think I am on the brink with no visibility of success in true sense.

All I could say is that, it was to be, it is to be, there is a thought in my head which deserves the chance and make life beautiful. I go back to the top of the post I am writing today, diary can be a great asset if you understand the gravity back then, just like the past that we laugh at when we look back. Can the same be applied to the diary and corrections be made to it. I know, its tough to think the otherwise and we are quintessential creatures of habit. But once we were a habit not its not. Can it be back to what it was? Can the change be a continuation of the previous chapter just a bit better and more driven towards working it rather than making it a fully gone conclusion. Things change, life becomes just a milestone or a rolling stone, why cant a milestone be a rolling stone

Soul Asylum....

It seems like the whole thing revisited again. Bloody shit, magma within me was exploding and I couldn’t control much myself. It’s like the trip which I took some donkey years ago trying to cleanse myself of the self imposed stupor called drugs. Addiction which led to the weight loss and all that jazz; it never was the same again. Football was gone my ability as a player, not my skill, but the friggin’ ability to play was gone. I was sapped of strength and could do nothing about it. My appetite was the same but nothing would help me gain any weight or for that matter make me a player like before. Now I feel the same helpless and fucked up. I am still trying as hard as one can. The trip that of angst, panic attacks and anguish flushing me down the trap or the shithole, people call life’s tragedy or depression. I can’t take this anymore. And I aint the one who was asking for it, or was I? I don’t want to, its like some guy driving a bullet down your throat and then for better reasons known to them you follow it up with a finger down the same crevice trying to push that bullet even further down.
My mind churns with a daft premise unwilling to accept the contrary. Falling into the fucked up trap of believing what was being said. I never thought it was this good. I never said it would be this bad either. If I were Jeremy from Blood Brother by J.A. Kerley, surely many would repent. I think my take would be similar to Peter Crumb too. I would devastate my soul. I don’t see a reason not to. Saala, chutiya ban ke sab sehta raha. Today I say this, fuck or get fucked that’s not the point the point is the truth or the warmth of your love would never be understood by anyone. Do you really feel like loving someone, that’s all bull shit it doesn’t fly, it never will. In the great words of Eagles vocalist Don Henley: ‘We are all just Prisoners here, of our own device’. Shut up, fuck & move away, because true love don’t exist materials do. Everybody wants something in return and that’s the sad truth of our lives. We are sick demented middle children of destiny, our depression is our lives and our tardiness or stubbornness is nothing but the fucked truth about the fact that we are unwilling to believe what comes our way. If you can love a person, don’t expect, I didn’t, it’s not my way. But when that person wants to trip on your feelings for them, be sure send some kick backs from that, because they don’t deserve it neither do you.
The sick dual attitude towards people hits my head like the sledge-hammer from the depths of dark illicit furnace of some blacksmith who doesn’t care how his creation is being used. Just because I love someone doesn’t give them the right to kill my soul over and over again. They can’t be allowed to; I am the same person to all. Humorous, sick, pervert & preposterously ugly; my voice as vocal as ever but restrained, my heart broken, crest fallen and head feeling like that of being flushed down the shithole 100 times with cleaning acid all around the commode. Every time there is a flush, something within me burns. It burns my head, my brains; my neck. The feeding frenzy for the acid; which palpably eats into your flesh like a weirdly pissed termite, devouring everything which comes its way, unless you got a lead made head gear. These verbal exchanges, my heart eaten by this acid; which I gulped down umpteenth time down my trachea, by fighting this losing battle. Why would someone do this, first the jealousy, then the anger now its plain disgust.
I am in this nice little cozy corner of Lucifer’s den. Everything around me boils my soul nothing different from it. I will never understand why I fell for this girl, or why I still feel for her with all my heart and soul. I guess that’s precisely what love does to you. It eats you within; it consumes you, till there is a point of no return. You see a life with them; you can never see a life without them. The heart waits with all the patience built into it from the previous exploits to be with her. But to no avail the point is you would be screwed every time you stick your head out of the commode and try to raise yourself to the next level, it will never happen. It never happens and you should trust me on this I see me running into the pitch dark cave with shards of glass scattered everywhere. But hey, who said life is without one. The biggest shard in the way are feelings, in a corporation it’s easy to lose them. But what about the incessant personal life; there is nothing that you can do. I say fuck all this, the key to happiness is, never ask for something because it will never come to you.
Our lives are that of compromise, the biggest one is the one we make on love. It’s all big bunch of bull crap never in your life you will succeed in love everything is a compromise. Never dream of giving something to the one you love; because they won’t even care about the fact that they are loved and your feelings are never going to be heard. That’s the bottom line and that’s what will keep happening since we all are the children of the same Adam who had the forbidden fruit. He had no option at all himself had to settle for Eve. There is always someone better but you will never achieve it. Living on plots of 30 by 20 and 60 by 40, you will ruin your life in running and trying to pay your debts and trying to get out of some mess you were not even responsible for. That’s life and love’s implication in it. Its never bed of roses and there are no shortcuts and the ones which do exist are the biggest tragedies of our lives because the shortcut will end you up in a mess you can’t morally bear.
We won’t be superstars or rock stars or as a matter of fact anything close to a high flyer, fucking unit on the normal curve you will never get out of the 9 to 5 life that you so willingly adorn to have a bigger slice of the cream pie which shrinks as the economy gets murkier by the day. But don’t worry; the girl will not understand that. She never can because as I said earlier the stubbornness born within always gets the best of us. Nothing can melt it down with any amount of love that you show. They are like prison walls of Alcatraz sturdy and no one can even after beating their heads and hearts break the wall, sewer is something I wont take for freedom I would desist it, always.

A Philosophy Called ‘Hitler’

I am a product of the environment, and remembered the dialogue of Jack Nicholson in Departed, “I don’t want to be a product of my environment, I want my Environment to be a Product of me. “ This surely has its implications in life. They say you can be a revolutionary if you were to follow the thought, having seen the movie understanding the end well I guess I wouldn’t want to think like my friend there who gets popped by his own mole.
I think we don’t realize but we are a product of our environments, how much so ever we may deny; it’s a fact. Hippocratic (I needed help for this from Word 2007, long live Billy G) thinking might be a reason for that; a several resource studies later I conclude that we are no different than the 3rd Reich. Atleast the time, what made him the way he was. The rise of Hitler is what I am referring to. Having to work for peanuts learning that Weimar was pushing the Germans further in trough and signing the treaty, it had to come from the iron hearted man.
Similarly, we aint any different, or are we? Have we made our choices according to our free will or the fact that the situation demanded you to do that? I am sure you find my view very much myopic. But is it? I think we need to delve further into the life of the man in spotlight here. Comparing his situation with our own, does it send a message, it probably does. I have grown to be the person that I am today because I adapt to a situation, what was wrong in him doing so. His methods are questionable I know but the motive is what we need to realize, is of prime importance.

Sweet Voice Of Comfort

I was stuck in it, was quite a crunching tackle. My legs just gave away. I couldnt really raise myself again. The grass was a soft bed with an occasional pebble here and there. The game had gone nasty from the time I passed the ball. I couldnt really free myself, the number of times I tried to break free is the times I got stuck in a frenzy of calls and runs. I couldnt really pick a person out. Thats when it happened, I decided to take matters in my own hands, actually the feet. I I was tired of being bullied and thus decided to go on my own. I did so, swept past my marker and went flying towards the goal only to see the goal-keeper charge at me with full commitment. I couldnt think much, a guy twice your size charging like a pit bull as if he just saw red. Well he did, I was wearing a red jersey. All the creativity went for a toss. The Midfield Mozart in me was about to out fox him. I tried to sweep past, but it was too late. I was already pounced upon by this gargantuan goalie and completely crushed under his weight. I was caught gasping for air as I tried to get up and he kicked at me and said, 'Stop panting like a Bi@tch and play some real football, chicken'.

This enraged me further, now I couldnt take it no more. I was more determined to score past him and the chances were coming thick and fast but he was standing like a huge log holding this beaver built dam. I still cant figure out wether it was frustration or the beer yesterday night which was doing the trick. Was I the only one they were marking? I mean we are the lowest ranked team in the league, gimme a break. What harm can we bring to strong teams in the league. Ofcourse the David beat Goliath but these guys were stronger than that. Got tackled twice I went flying outside the touch-line. The Feather weight catagory I fall in, eminent was in the coming.

I cut through 2 midfielders before I could see another red shirt screaming for the ball. Suddenly from behind the guy who woke me up for the match shouted, 'down the channel', caught in two minds I took the easier way out pass to this guy overlapping me so that I dont get fired if the cross is incorrect. Again I see the defender jamming into me like a truck hitting the crossing roadrunner. Coyote caught the roadrunner, again & again. Suddenly I shouted, 'For heaven's sake we are old people, don't believe in violence'. I dont know why, the defender smiled at me slyly and I couldn't really think, what next to do. My legs were killing me because of all the running that I had done. 38th minute now, I still didn't know I would ever be able to cross the ball. The defender pointing at me and laughing for the most shittiest of crosses I would have ever come up with, I rationalized by thinking atleast I was able to cross the ball, so what if it over shot and the defender at the other end started a counter attack which resulted in a goal eventually. My head hung like a beer fed belly. My Captain screwing me for not crossing correctly when we were going all out in attack. The defenders couldnt do much they were at the half-line.

Basically, it was a blame game, younger you are the more screwed you get for mistakes. There is no learning curve, is there one at all. Our strikers were not even getting the scraps which we would throw at them sometimes while playing against the other teams. These guys were getting furious for the service that we were giving them. I was happy to say the least, cause atleast now I was not passing to the opposite team directly. Now my involvement was more indirect. Frustration was only one thing the team was good at, but still we were here to play football, we didnt mind if our hand hit the ball and the referee didnt see it. Mind games had begun much before the match and the inevitable was in the coming. One of the midfielders went down and that gave us a break. A much needed one for most of the smoke filled lungs of my captain and the defence. Panting he said, 'Dude, get open'

'I cant' I said 'he gets onto me in a flash'.

'Pussy'

'No I am not, atleast I am able to put an odd cross'.

'Oh Screw it, just play the game'.

Thus back in the game. 5 minutes to break I was fired hearing the verbal abuse, I wanted to kill my Captain, my manager. I hated him and the feeling was same on the other side. So it was my birthright to prove him wrong. Moron, cant play for nuts and is the captain. The world is not fair. Otherwise how can one justify the salary he was gettin for all the shit that was doing at office too. The world is just not fair. Anyways, I was only determined enough to prove him wrong. Thus started the saga, as soon as I got the ball I started going faster and faster till a point when I saw the defender with me was about to take my legs out, I jumped high and leapt past him. He was stunned at this, so was I. I never knew I could do that, so the mind was caught again and this time the goalie charged. The chicken within me crooned hard and I just passed the ball away towards the left which was towards the center of the goal. Ironically the team's striker got in front of the defender and touched the ball. The goalie now stunned cause he never expected me to do that, I never expected myself to do that. 'Wow' I said as soon as I passed. Goalie looked at me. The ball rolled into the goal and the striker went berserk. He stripped and flinged his jersey at a girl in the crowed. I mean 4 people who came to cheer a losing team which I belonged to. The girl was apparently his girlfriend. I still am awaiting mine, so lesser said the better.

Now chest size 30 inches clash and bullets could bounce off without a sting. I was brimming with confidence and the ref blew the whistle. We were happy or contented hear the music of the whistle. My manager came up with more words of confidence. It was 1-1 and it seemed we could snatch a win if their strikers didnt fire, which they were doing very effectively. 13 shots at the goal would prove my point, but in the end they werent scoring which had to be underlined. So is it this voice the voice of my manager, my captain I talk of no its not.

My manager begun the second half by thumping the ball in the opponents half. They attacked and attacked; wave after wave. We were just defending, now came the most interesting part. We never touched the ball in the initial 15 mins of the second half. My goalie urged us to step up, and we did only to find that he was alone facing 3 strikers in his face anyways, its the idea which is more important. Coming back to the match. I finally got the ball cut one, cut two flying down the right wing when I realized that the ball is quite far from me and I am supposed to cross in three strides. The defender from nowhere fling himself from behind as I just stretched to cross the ball.

My misery ended as I lay there on the sweet patch of grass counting the stars, planets, bees, moon & ofcourse the odd comet. Its quite amazing when you are hurt what all you can see. I even saw a train and my beloved waving goodbye & me running behind cause I just missed the train, my hair all scrambled, my clothes still shabby and ofcourse while running I am also trying to put my belt on. A million times doing the same thing while trying to get to the company transport, and missing it as many times. It must have been a boon, it was a pretty ugly match or so I heard. We did manage to get a penalty since their defender manged to handle the ball rather than kick it, and to my surprise my captain did manage to score. Now I dont know how, call him up for explaination.

I was, lifted off the pitch with 24 minutes to spare. The green cloth draped stretcher was the only thing I remember after that. I didnt care wether the defender was yellow or red carded or what. I was deep in pain, like an Indian in the Tintin cartoon walking or sleeping on needles. More they shook the stretcher, more pale I went with pain. I coudnt move the only thing moving me were the people. I was deep into shock, didnt knew what was happening. I longed to hear someone. It was something I wanted to listen to but since it was morning and didnt want to disturb her, I didnt. Her voice echoed from the only etched part of my memory. Discreetly remembering the way she smiled on recieving her gift. One of the few cherished memories of her I brought with me when I came to this fudging place. Her silken soft voice like Daffy's to Donald, her singing, the childish conversations and many more. It kept coming back to me.

The Madrasi Doctor, calling out to me was the only time, I realised I was not with her right now. He was taping the hamstring. The tighter he bound the tape the more excruciating I felt. Thousand ice cold daggers piercing my thighs and calves. 'The yamstring injuries waar the toughest to caarry' he said. I paid attention for all I knew he would amputate my leg, but then what the heck, it was paining a lot I might have just taken that option. The more he went on, the more I felt like taking the easier way out. I was surprised to see my manager standing there. The captain of the side, the man with a fully blown chest and hair oozing out. Girls, not a pretty sight I would say. He said, 'boy, I think you need a lift back home'. 'Sure' came back a lightening quick reply. Anything to put that guy into misery the dude had screwed me at work many a times and now was my turn. He stayed in the other end of the city and finally I got some satisfaction out of it. Sadistic pleasure to say the least. A 30 km drive for him. A roar went within. I messaged my beloved that I had suffered something horrible and just lay down thinking of her. Now its very strange the way these waves travel, she called back. I was just thinking of her then. My life utterly screwed, I was still thinking of the game and the way my captain described it to me. We are boys and we are mad about three things in life Money, Girls & Games. This time it was her on my mind as soon as I thought of the tackle. Power bomb from hell exactly thats how it felt. But the later much better, her thought, her voice, her smile. I am smitten I must say.

So she called a splash of tingle went through my body. Oh wait, nope, it was my friend, he was trying to figure out how bad it was. Then again, the sweet voice. Calmness struck me and I could rest better. I hadnt spoken to her since morning. The Beaver's Dam, the rushing truck, the flaunting captain, I was hearing and seeing a lot of things when I was palying and down. I mean I could hear the distinct train whistle, or was it the referee's whistle, who cares. The stars, the planets and the moons. Was it Jupiter's, does it seem I give a Fu@K . Bottomline I saw something. I was now talking to her trying to conceal as much pain I could. Not that I could but there was no ways I wanted her to know I was completely on the bed. Her voice, that of curiosity shaken with a lot of care and concern, remember not stirred. She put me off to sleep just like this passage. Incase you did laugh then, do leave a comment. Cheers, dont drink and drive, btw two of my friends just got no-bowled by chicks, thanks to me. Dont let that happen to you.