The Training

Right now I am attending a training session. Instructor is a screwed up guy. He doesn't even know push/pull strategy. The bugger said that when you issue the material inbetween the manufacturing process, it will be push strategy. What you will be doing before pushing the material on the floor? mopping the shop floor or jacking off the machines!!!!!!

Anyway, just got back from a long journey. So I am still imagining as if I am swaying in the train. The exam was bad. It's very hard to clear objective type language exams. Did some shopping. Shoes and shirts and stuff like that. Since I bought new sport shoes yesterday, I am wearing it over formal trousers and shirt. It looks funny. Especially when sport shoes are new and its soul shines over the black background of the upper part.














Now you all bastards will be bored to death to read such type of stuff. You will be wondering 'man, even santa has become bored jack ass'!!! hahaha.. you like it when i experience pain. when i write the first letter of the sentence in small letter. when i tell about her or tell about how i fuck myself over her departure.. you morons..
every person is saddist at the core.. we like when someone is on pain.. we feel good to help such a person, that may be true.. but we feel it even better when such an occasion arises rather feeling better after helping a man.. bcos we like that man in pain.. in sorrow.. in grief.. we show great philanthropy after that.. see every saint, sadhu, baba.. they make you feel dejected.. in pain.. in misery.. if you are poor, they will remind you of rich people.. if you are filthy rich, they will show you poor people and will tell you that money is not ultimate and some shit like spirituality is.. these are the Tooheys of this world.. and so all of us Tooheys.. (refer Fountainhead by Ayn Rand.. there is a character called Ellsworth Toohey..) we suck on others' pain.. we fuck on others' misery..
in the pink floyd album 'The Wall', the protagonist Pink becomes famous and ultimately becomes the dictator of the party whose symbol is Hammer.. the soft, overprotected boy becomes the hammer.. we are all such hammers.. when pink is a schoolboy, he writes about the teachers.. you can see the chain of hammers, the chain of omnipresent saddists and the chain of ever present Tooheys.. here comes 'The Happiest Days of Our Lives'

When we grew up and went to school
There were certain teachers who would
Hurt the children in any way they could
By pouring their derision upon anything we did
And exposing every weakness
However carefully hidden by the kids
But in the town, it was well known
When they got home at night, their fat and
Psychopathic wives would thrash them
Within inches of their lives.

We are either the teachers or their wives or the soon-be-turning-hammers young students.. but we are one of the three.. we cant run from the hell

Body and Soul

If you are Fantacizing, it doesn't matter if she is Pamela Anderson or your Padosan.

Why the soul is wearing this body? I mean, why THIS body only? Why not someone else's?

Also I have never seen my own ass. Or for that matter my brain or my lungs or any inner part for that matter. But they are integral parts of my body. Then if they are taken out and presented before me, will I recognise?

Also when I touch any part of my body, like say my nose with my finger, then whether finger feels the nose or nose feels the finger? And then what is the difference since finger and nose are sensed at the same place in my brain.

And why penis is the only hanging part?

Someone wrote 'Life is there to Live'. What else can you do with it? Paper is very cheap therefore people write. If a sheet of paper is as expensive as an ounce of a gold, then who will write and what?

Afterall trees are the only integral part of this earth. Their roots are firmly attached to the ground. Therefore we call it rooted. But what about all others? We afterall don't have any bonds.

Nipple is circling over the breast. Tongue-tied & twisted just an earthbound misfit, I.

Its 1.32 p.m.

I grew up in a small town. Also had a very close relationship with farmer and the associated community. I have always felt that farmers are the most optimistic souls on this earth. They have to be. The nature forces them to be like that otherwise they will just break down under the tremendous uncertainty.
OK. So the point I started was to do something with farmer. Yes. Farmers generally have buffalows. They either buy a pregnant buffalow (we call her Gabhan) from market or raise one of the calves. (I am not sure buffalow baby is called a calf or not). The buffalow goes on giving milk till she can bourne more buffalows in her belly. At the end of around 3rd quarter of her life she can not give birth as the nature won't allow her (We call such buffaloes 'bhakad'. I am sure people are trying to increase this useful age). Now comes the catch.

Some farmers don't sell these poor souls to butcher. They remain in the stable till the death comes over. Some farmers being very poor can not feed such bhakad animals and are forced to sell them. Some farmers are very calm and cool. They just go and sell a buffalow to a butcher. Have you ever seen such an animal dragged to the kattalkhana. It's a very miserable site to watch. You can just read everything in the eyes of that poor animal.

I always used to wonder what that soul would be thinking? What a great emotional turmoil it would be undergoing? What? What? What?

Today I can feel what that animal goes through. There is no pain. There is no sorrow. It is just a plain end. You just can not think when you get stabbed by the most beloved person. When a person about whom you think 24 hours a day, cheats you, that is something unbearable. The worst part you lose the trust in everything related. And that is the biggest blow. Because there are many things which you do because you trust someone. When trust is over, lot of things in this life slam the door upon you. You are no longer eligible to enjoy them.

But I envy these animals. These souls atleast die in next day or two. I have to stay for much longer. Much much longer.

It is 1.52 pm now.

Once again

It's been a month now I have not written anything. Yes, I was busy. Buried myself into the work. Visited home for a weekend and then another weekend spent in fruitless interview. But hope is the tight rope on which I walk. Work is challenging, sometimes boring, sometimes monotonous and sometimes interesting. It is as complex as a critique on a poem written by another poet. You never know what is the objective. Is it written so that reader can understand and appreciate the poem or will get more confused and will say, "hey man, the poet wants to express this through these lines but has written totally irrelevant to highlight the irrelevance in the life of the common man which is symbolized by the crow sitting on the branch of a banyan tree on the banks of a river. Now why Banyan tree and that also specifically on the river bank. Here lies the intensity of the portrayal of the life in this world......................................................".

The point was complexity and nothing more and nothing less.

Rest of the things are moving on with the usual pace. When I am not working I think of them. Then I become sad. These days I am entering into a shell whenever such an emotion grips me. I should not do so. I should fight. But that is not happening. I have to find a solution. Hope is the tight rope walk. I am not able to concentrate on my daily reading routine usually before going to sleep on my bed. I open the book and thoughts surround me. I start grand Soliloquies which I know for sure will never come out of my mouth in front of her. But I cant manage to resist the temptation.

Whoever is going to read this, keep two things in mind:
There are very few people in this world who think about us 24 hours a day. And in such a short life the probability of finding one is very low. So don't miss the second chance if you have already missed one.
Thing no 2: This is my personal opinion but may be worth giving a thought.
I won't be sad if nobody remembers the moment I spent with him/her in their life. But I dont want anybody to remember me as a person who just used him/her for my own sake and then kicked out the relationship. I am certain that I dont want anybody to remember me like this ever. And I would be extremely satisfied if there will be no such person cursing me when I am lying on my deathbed for my selfishness, and at that moment I will not give a damn if there will be nobody in this world who will even bother to stretch his/her memory to think who the hail was this santa.

The Trek

Emotion is the arch enemy of the reason.

Now the picture on left is a blue poppy. Guys, u got it? Maal isise banata hai. Enjoy.









The trek got over. I did enjoy it a lot. The end was saddened. And it took away everything I received on that trek in beautiful Himalayas. See, I enjoy walking arduous stretches in mountain because it gives me extreme ____________ , whatever you call it. And it did give me that. But why then while coming back I was not bubbling up with the energy which I generally would be after a trek? Why the weeks after the return are so frustrating? Why I am feeling a omnipresent sadness?The two things are entirely separate. Then why I am not able to separate them in my life? As uncle told me, my emotional needs are abundant. They are deep within. They get hurt as if my one of my body parts gets hurt. Hmmm. True. I am not denying that. Now let me dissect where these emotions got hurt. Simple. They are hurt because they felt insulted. They felt like 'I have done everything possible and I received this in return'. Fine. I should not expect anything with surety. Expectation is the calculated response or reaction from other entity.And here I got beaten. Because I did not calculate with rational approach but an emotional approach. I lose my rational approach when she is in the picture. I do not think logically when she is in the middle of the issue. I have to overcome this weakness. But again what uncle says is also true. My emotional needs are in a plenty. So I have to cut them to nil, zero. I have only one doubt. Are these emotions an integral part of my being. If yes, then cutting them is not a rational approach. If not, then yes. It is a rational approach. So wake up Santa and start thinking on this line.What about her then? I have lost her and at the same time she has lost me. If I put a Balance Sheet and Profit&Loss Statement, then .............................................................................................. One thing is sure that I learnt a great deal from my mistakes. First is that I wont let anyone to take hold of my core and use it at will and throw once not of any value to him/her. One thing I am sure about is that I never did that. If somebody is friend of mine, he/she is. I don't seek value in it. And I expect the reciprocation. If he/she does not reciprocate then hell with them. Second thing I learned is that I will never fall into a relationship so intricate. I wont be involved as I was earlier because whatever said and done, I cant let her go out my mind. And I don't want to go through this continuous, round the clock headache. I cant sustain this. It hurts. Now there is no certainty that second one will also turn similar to first one. But as I said initially, expectation should be rational. So even if I assume that the probability of this is 50%, I am not ready to go for a relationship and that whole lot of headache. Hell with it. And this is not an irrational decision. It is taken after weighing the probability and the outcome and then comparing with experience. This is very logical path to follow.

lost

I am not building upon the earlier post as I wrote there. I am simply unable to think in a proper logical manner these days. It doen't mean that I am thinking erratically or erotically for that matter. Whatever I am thinking or comprehending, is not sounding logical. Neither it is in a structured matter nor of any use.

Did you find anything meaningful out of this. Neither do I. Therefore I said my thought process itself has been hit.

I think the cause is my ego has been hit. By ego I dont mean that derogatory term. But i like to use this word over soul. I don't want to be a use and throw kind of person. I help others. I indulge in many activities which does not yield any material gains for me. I listen, converse, travel, call, read, sing, ....... with so many people. I know at the end it is through a purely selfish motive. Many a times those whom I helped, shared going out of way or in the way, never cared to even glance once at me. I never minded. The thought itself never touched my mind as the objective behind my act was not to be remembered, noticed but purely selfish. It was my need to interact with others and because of that need, I did all these activities.

But today I felt shattered. Because I was involved with the person. Involvement grew expectations. And never did I imagine that they will be hit so hard. I did everything. Never did I fail intentionally. There were times when I was not upto the mark. But one thing I can say is that I gave in my 100%. Yes. Sure.
When I felt I am used and thrown, I felt sad. Deep within. I felt frustrated, exhausted, tired, excited, erected many a times before. But I never felt sad like this before. This feeling is of pure sadness. It is not depression either. This sadness is very intense (may be since I felt it first time). Just deep, hollow, hurting experience.
I am helpless to do anything against it. If I am tired, I can take rest. If I am frustrated, I can calm down myself. My father says that you are angry means you are fool. One gets angry because of someone else's doing. Like somebody shouted at you, insulted you, did not do the work properly and we get angry, right. That means we punish ourself by becoming angry doe to someone else. Isnt that an act of foolishness.
I tried this logic as well. But it didn't work. Because this time sadness has not been resulted through act of another person neither it has resulted from my own acts. It has resulted because of some deep involvement, because a part of my life behaved in way I did not expect or comprehend, because my ..........

To be selfish also needs extreme commitment and requires clarity of thoughts. But at this point I guess, I will be more contend and satisfied with this theory.

But again as I said at the start, I am unable to clear my swaying thoughts. Give me some time. One thing I am sure about is one who does not learns from the mistakes is a fool. I will learn from my mistakes. I will.

So a song for me which I am listening to, singing all the time right now. Its a gripping song. One hears it once and can never forget it.

Coming Back to Life (with due respect to Pink Floyd).

Where were you when I was burned and broken
While the days slipped by from my window watching
Where were you when I was hurt and helpless
Because the things you say and the things you do surround me

While you were hanging yourself on someone else's words
Dying to believe in what you heard
I was staring straight into the shining sun

Lost in thought and lost in time
While the seeds of life and the seeds of change were planted
Outside the rain fell dark and slow
While I pondered on this dangerous but irresistible pastime
I took a heavenly ride through our silence
I knew the moment had arrived
For killing the past and coming back to life

I took a heavenly ride through our silence
I knew the waiting had begun
And headed straight..into the shining sun

yes! i do!!

I am selfish. No this is not just another inspiration from Ayn Rand. I am. I knew it from very begining. But I was and am hypocrite as well. I professed logic with the stupidity of the worst illogical person.
OK. Nothing to do with whatever i wrote above. I am still convinced with my stand on logic. But now I guess, I am becoming more like a sponge. Earlier I was like a stone. I could not absorb anything. I could listen to anything. I could not see anything. I wont say that I have become a continuous learner and stuff like that. But, yes, I am changing. And change is the only constant thing in nature.
Yes. I love her. I love her logically. Now its too late. I know. But atleast now I have the satisfaction of understanding my own emotions. Now I can tell that I can understand her. How can a person who can not understand his own emotions can understand and feel someone else's emotions. And love can be logical. I am not saying that "love is logical". I am working on the statement. But now I can say that even if the outcome turns out to be something else, I wont cease to exist. If I remain adamant on my theory of logic, or for that matter on anyone's theory of logic, beliving firmly that logic is the only means of understanding, it becomes illogical in itself.
The search might throw a lot of other questions and statements which might shatter a lot of my thinking process and convictions. But now I have the courage to face. And I will. I will continue to love her. Though it seems that I will never get her.

This is the most loosely written blog. Now I will keep on building on the bits and pieces I have thrown today. Its interesting.

write

today i dont feel i should write. then am I writing this just for the sake of writing. dont know. lets leave this.
i just stare at the monitor. i will go home and will play the flute. some songs. that gives me some peace. mazaa aata hai.

Sunday Sermon

The day is over. Its 7.30 now. I always write in third person like you are or like one has to kind of stuff. But today I think of writing in first person. Let me just flow the words. Once my grandpa told me that every word has its own ‘abidha shakti’. Like when we call a pot we call it a pot because that word has a power of expressing a pot. If a pen is called a pot it will not match the character of a pot. Something like that only.
Why I ended the last paragraph, I don’t know. But today I am not going to care about the why I don’t know stuff about things which I don’t know. So the day is over. Met my uncle who is, rather was, a very good friend of mine. Its not that we fought or broke our friendship but just time has moved ahead. And I come back home. I feel vacuum. I never used to feel like this. The days were full of activities. This or that one. Now I don’t feel like that. I don’t know why. And as I already stated, I am not going to care about the why I don’t know stuff about the things which I don’t know.
I talk to her over phone. A strong urge to meet her blasts out of me like a volcano. Personally I don’t like such bullshit similes of emotional burst and a volcano but let’s keep it that way only. Then the urge spreads over me like an envelope. So I smoke one more cigarette. I can not inhale the fire in my lungs anymore. But I don’t stub it on the floor till I burn my fingers. I like her. Both of them. Her as well as the cigarette. But not both at the same time. One has to leave while other is around. And one has left forever. So other one is with me. And I still continue to love both. So I light up one more. The first puff whizzes past my throat and hits the lungs. I think of crying loud. But I can not. The brain does not allow the heart to do so. It asks heart the logic, input, output, objective, means and action plan behind this act of emotion. Heart says you are big fucker. By this time heart has left the idea. It is listening to the pink floyd. Those great pessimistic songs. And brain dances in tune. It provides the necessary fuel. And I stare at the wall and listen to the Gilmour’s voice singing “where were you, when I was hurt and I was helpless.. while the days slipped by from my window watching.. and where were you, when I was burnt and I was broken.. but the things you said and the things you do surround me”. You just get into it. Sorry. Sorry. I just get into it. I am not going to make it generic third person moral story writing.
Then I think of 10 or 15 or 20 or something like that years from now. And I imagine myself in a Konkani village in a typical house of thatched roof and cow dung floor. I think about a big library with lots of book. Every book will have my name scribed in pencil with the date and the place from where I bought that book. Many of the scribbled names and dates and places are now so faint that I can barely read them. They have been wiped out in the passage of time. I really doubt whether I have read all these books. But I have bought them for sure. I am smoking a cigarette. I am alone. Not only at that place but in life. I don’t know what happened to my parents, sister and other relatives. May be they have left me or I have left them. It’s all same. Makes no difference. But I am thinking of her. She just can’t escape from my life. I feel like the biggest loser. Worst part is I still don’t know what I have lost. And I refuse to accept that I have lost anything. The ego simply refuses to do so. And I die with the lost brain. Yes the brain loses at the end. Because my brain accepts that the heart has won. And since heart has won, brain has to accept that heart exists. Actually brain dies because it accepts that heart exists. But I think that the brain has won. Because as soon as brain loses I die. So even if heart wins I die. That means that brain has won. Heart was not my existence but brain was. So here ends the story. I like such abrupt ends.

the devil

its been a long time now i am thinking about the motives, drives, or whatever behind an artist's creation. why a writer writes a novel, why a poet writes a poem, why a painter paints, why a flutist plays? what is that leads to the creation. (here i m talking about artist whom i consider as creator of art. and i am not at all conerned with your perception of an artist.)

an artist is always limited by his/her some externalities such as
1. the geography in which he/she was born, has grown up, stayed and staying.
2. his/her parents, neighbours, friends and teachers.
3. the social-economic-political conditions prevailing at various times in his/her life.

now all these things are LCM in every human being's life. then what separates an artist from others is:
1. the impact of these things on his/her mind and the effect of that impact
2. the ability to analyze experience and turn it into objects which can be used and may be reused
3. the ability to understand one's current skill level and the persistance to excel or improve.
4. and most important is to weave all these pieces into an art form (and this point differenciates a businessman, police, lawyer, politician almost every individual in some or other business from an artist).

now surrealism, abstract, symbolic, similie, cynicism, sci-fi, dance on a prose, what is all this? they also portray the artists' experiences, realities, the effects, and his interpretation. but in a different manner.

but the point where we started still remains. why an artist creates? what on earth makes him to do so as his non-doing of it is not going to change anything for the world. the entropy is still going to increase. the chaos will still establish itself. really, why?

his surrounding, parents, home, love, friends, leaders, ideology. will all these drive him. no. not at all. may be the experiences from all these will. but is it bcos of this he creates. ne. again not satisfactory answer. an experience wont drive to create. but its impact on mind. yes. it will. but what kind of impact?
when he feels happy? when he feels numb? when he feels miserable? when he feels to dance like hell? when he feels like crying? when he feels helpless? when he feels nothing? when he feels to kill? when he siezes to feel anything? when he feels very little, little, medium, intense, too intense of any of above mentioned or not mentioned feelings? which of these feeling and which level of intensity will make orginal art? which combo will yield to classic? which combo is good? which is bad? which leads to romance? which leads to realism and which leads to surrealism? which makes filthy novels, paintings, dances, plays which smell of hypocricy?

i am still trying to find out the answer.
all of yours comments are welcomed.
please feel free to write anything.

love

Vera
Does anybody here remember Vera Lynn
Remember how she said
that We would meet again Some sunny day
Vera! Vera! What has become of you
Does anybody else in here Feel the way I do ?

hahahaha
Good morning Worm your honour
The crowd will plainly show The prisoner who now stands before you
Was caught red handed showing feelings
Showing feelings of an almost human nature
This will not do!

goto blog: fuck the world.. (if u cannot find it, here is the link.. http://kosla.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_kosla_archive.html)

hehehehe.. one should never cry.. especially if he is a male..
r u the one?

The Lexus and The Olive Tree

Moslem religion has a very good thing: the brotherhood (its calles as Umma). If you look at the Prophet Mohammad’s entry into Medina, he carried a few people from Mecca with him when he entered Medina. He asked people from Medina that these migrants from Mecca (who have become migrants because of their faith on Moslem religion and are expelled from Mecca) are your brothers. Moreover they will be treated as equal partners in their wealth and female. So the brotherhood concept of Moslem religion starts from this incidence.
Christians on the other hand are very clean and tidy. If you see even the converted Christians from Hindu religion (the lower casts known for their unhygienic and unclean behavior by upper casts) they suddenly turn into hardcore Christians- the clean and tidy ones.
What drives this? Why people turn suddenly into something which they were not? Why?
Now comes the Hindu religion. Now, why I should consider about Hindu religion? Because I was born in this religion? No! There is no Hindu religion. Hindu is a culture. It’s a representation of a society with same culture. Yes, same not only similar. The calender is same from Kashmir to Kanyakumari, same Gods are worshipped from Atak to Arunachal. Does Hindu covers cleanliness? I don’t think so. Does it cover brotherhood? I don’t think so. Then what?
It represents a society. It doesn’t take the onus of the functioning of this society. It doesn’t take care of the welfare of the society. It doesn't state the rules and regulations. It doesn't state the procedures. It doesn't interfere with politics and governence. It does tell good and bad, pious and sins, rights and responsibilities. But all these are suggestions, guidelines but not hardlines etched on rocks not to change. You are free to do whatever pleases your whim.
I would like to quote a small story from a book named, ‘The Lexus and The Olive Tree’ written by an eminent journalist Thomas L. Friedman. (With your due permission, Sir)
“The truth was once beautiful conveyed by Rabbi Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s classic Novel One Hundred Years of Solitude:
Marquez tells about a village where people were afflicted with a strange plague of forgetfulness, a kind of contagious amnesia. Starting with the oldest inhabitants and working its way through the population, the plague causes people to forget the names of even the most common everyday objects. One young man, still unaffected, tries to limit the damage by putting labels on everything. “This is a table,” “This is a window,” “This is a cow; it has to be milked every morning.” And at the entrance of the town, on the main road, he puts up two large signs. One reads “The name of our village is Macando,” and the larger one reads “God exists.” The message I get from that story is that we can, and probably will, forget most of what we have learned in life- the math, the history, the chemical formulas, the address and phone number of the first house we lived in when we got married- and all that forgetting will do us no harm. But if we forget whom we belong to, and if we get forget that there is a God, something profoundly human in us will be lost.”
I am not endorsing anything. Endorsing “GOD”? No, absolutely not. But can we forget where we were born, in what circumstances (I agree with all of you to 100% that our birth is not in our hands. But the first breath- yes, logically is certainly in our hands! What say?), in which society, which olive tree we belong to? Yes, we can not forget! And it’s the fact.
Now, can Moslem or Christian (or any other religion) people forget that? No, they can not, if we go by the logic stated above.
It’s up to you to decide. I am not going to comment on anything. But one thing has been proven if we abide by the logic stated above that Olive tree is going to stay forever. Your task remains to prove the logic wrong.
I am waiting for all of you.

hypocricy

you think hard. but you fail to understand. you try to manifest hard. but u end up in nothing. u revolt against an unseen enemy because you have not understood who your enemy is. because your efforts of thinking have gone in vain. because you dont deserve to know. the truth of the matter is there is no truth. only efforts. and you dont put in efforts. and thus you end up in trying to manifest something which you can not do.
it is called as hypocrisy.
and this definition itself is hypocritic.
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

albert camu: the fall

‘‘...Without slavery, as a matter of fact, there is no definitive solution. I very soon realised that. Once upon a time, I was always talking of freedom: At breakfast I used to spread it on my toast, I used to chew it all day long, and in company my breath was delightfully redolent of freedom. With that key word I would bludgeon whoever contradicted me; I made it serve my desires and my power. I used to whisper it in bed in the ear of my sleeping mates and it helped me to drop them. I would slip it...Tchk! Tchk! I am getting excited and losing all sense of proportion. After all, I did on occasion make a more disinterested use of freedom and even—just imagine my naivete—defended it two or three times without of course going so far as to die for it, but nevertheless taking a few risks. I must be forgiven such rash acts; I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know that freedom is not a reward or a decoration that is celebrated with champagne. Nor yet a gift, a box of dainties designed to make you lick your chops. Oh, no! It’s a choice, on the contrary, and a long-distance race, quite solitary and very exhausting. No champagne. No friends raising their glasses as they look at you affectionately. Alone in a forbidding room, alone in the prisoner’s box before the judges, and alone to decide in face of oneself or in the face of others’ judgment....’’

Albert Camus
The Fall

crocket of gold

there was a boy.. in search of search.. the reason unknown.. path never known..
have u met him? no! surpsrising!!
very easy to identify.. very familier.. most familier person to every soul on this earth..
why is he wandering.. i donno.. but i ll find out one day..

Reality is the Illusion

War is Peace
Ignorance is strength
Love is hate

time pass

led zep has sung a very beautiful song called stairway to heaven.. the man who sold the world is also good.. vera by pink floyd.. dont cry: GNR.. with arms wide open.. its a gateway, isnt it? uncle, do u remember?
and then gazals by Begum Akhtar.. deewana banana hai to deewana bana de.. wah wa.. laajawaab.. waha kaun he tera, musafir jaayega kaha: dum lele ghadibhar ye chhainya paayega kaha by sdburman..
songs dance in front of the eyes.. one says i ll come in front while other pushes her down.. almost all songs are female.. some are tender girls, some are old wine.. some are like those sexy aunties while some remind about those ugly prostitutes when seen in the morning at the government hospital.. there are male songs like hum honge kamyaab, jana gana mana.. vande mataram is utterly feminine.. and rich and thick and and and... everytime i listen or sing, it binds me more and more.. but to what.. i donno.. but i m trying to find out..
oh! shit! this starts a new discussion.. why do i leave?
about this i ll discuss some other day.. but only one question?
Do I sieze to exists if I ever come to know the answer of Why do I leave?
hahahahahahahahahahahahaha...

waha kaun hai tera musafir..
jaayega kaha..
dum lele ghadibhar ye chhainya paayega kaha..

beet gaye deen
pyaar ke palchhin
sapnaa bani wo raate
bhool gaye wo
tubhi bhoolade
pyaar ki wo mulakate
kab door andhera
musafir jaayega kaha
dum lele.. dum lele ghadibhar.. ye chhaiya paayega kaha.

koi bhi teri
raah na dekhe
nain bichhaye na koi
dard se tere
koi na tadpa
aakh kisika na royi
kahe kisko tu mera
musafir jaayega kaha
dum lele.. dum lele ghadibhar.. ye chhaiya paayega kaha.

oooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhh.. musaaaaaaaaaaaafiiiiir...
tu jaayegaaaaaaaaaaaa kahaaaaaaaaaaaanann

kehte hai gyaani
duniya hai paani
paani pe likhi likhai
hai sabki dekhi
hai sabki jaani
haath kisike na aayi
kuchh tera na mera
musafir jaayega kaha
dum lele.. dum lele ghadibhar.. ye chhaiya paayega kaha...

death

when we die there is no meaning left for what will be left behind..
its like asking a question "what was space before the big bang outside the point mass?"
then why the hell we cry for society, welfare, moral, values, ethics, environment, development, future generations, the earth, the sun, the moon, the galaxy, the world..
i die.. everything is over.. i live.. everything is hapening..
why should give a damn about others?

she

i love her..
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i never realised this sentence can speak volumes..

thanks...

you......

you were like that then
you were like this then
you of blossomed arms

you were half ripe
you were mature life
of bitter-sweet lips

you the lover here
you the evening there
rosy love was everywhere

fuck up the world

i will b independant one day..
i ll b alone one day..
i wont need anyone one day..
i ll fuck u all one day..
fuck the world.. fuck the world.. fuck the world..

pigs on the wing

lets liberate from our own misery.. lets leave alone the big brother.. he is within us..
why we have to wear clothes.. why we have to shave off our beard.. why we have listen to others.. why we have to fuck inside the walls.. whats wrong with all of us? whats wrong?

past

the past haunts.. haunts like a madman.. i cant escape.. i cant put her away..
its disgusting..
goodbye cruel world..
there is nothing u can do to change my minds..
goodbye
goodbye
goodbye

11/5/5

sometimes u feel a strong urge.. to walk, walk and walk.. u can visualise the event.. first u r very enthusiastic.. then ur legs start paining.. after some time.. feet start crying.. by evening blisters start appearing between ur thumbs, sides and on all places of ur toe..
and u feel a sense of relief.. a sense of joy.. a sense of nothingness..
its great