The Bureaucrat

(Thanks to blogadda)

Everyone loved to dream, so did I. I think I did imbibe a difference, by scripting a different tale. Born with a silver spoon? No. Neither did I have to learn under a street light. ‘Middle class’ is the term. Perhaps it is this cousin who exhausted her bank account for making herself look better, who inspired me to strive elevating to the higher class. Luxury cars often fascinated me during my long walks towards work. The money saved by each walk would never add up to get me one. Forefathers apparently were lazy enough, for they didn’t even leave me a legacy to boast about. All that would deter me from wanting to jump out of this cattle class was the serenity that often filled my mind. It didn’t take the transient dreams too long a time to win their battle over my love affair with serenity. A devil walked in to my life; shook my hands. Short cut to richness would lure any sane mortal, I reasoned. Time took a faster leap. My eyes just blinked. It was all going to happen. The brand new smile that I gave birth to let me bypass conscience. Bureaucracy turned out to be a fun. A sharp brain; timely silence; seasonable grins all favoured me. I played with red tapes.

The green-eyed monsters were more powerful. The current location from where I write this is just a proof of how strong they are. Trust me; this was never the victory of truth. The level of corruption that I exercised was weaker than what they could. Or, perhaps I was just a novice. Well, penitence doesn’t flood my words. That doesn’t however mean that I would ride along the same path as soon as I get released from here. My love, believe me when I say that my heart is still pure. I know you will. Well who should read me better? When I say that I would not dare to turn deaf to your thoughts anymore, it is recommended that you take it as a promise, at least for now. Life is complicated. Too many neuronal circuits are firing from within, so let me conclude for now. See you soon.

With lots of love,

The guy who still holds your heart.

(For those who came in late: Manipulator, Beast)

The Silence

It is rather unusual for the night to be this silent. I strain to the extreme and all I hear is my heart’s thud. The room is so filled by darkness that the tiny LED light from the mobile phone charger shines like the sun himself. This phone is supposed to break the silence. But, why isn’t that happening.

Is that a cough? I rush to their room. No, it’s nothing. See, I’m sweating. I should make a call now. Perhaps I can wait. Before returning to my room I tried to find if any sound walked out of that keyhole at all. When did Dad stop snoring anyway? Peace for now. I did have trouble finding my blanket. But weren’t I sweating a while back? It’s cold anyway. It seems monsoon has no plans to give way to the other seasons this year. Rains that flooded the day did leave behind this calm cool night. The phone is still silent. No, I shouldn’t wait further. I dial the number. “Switched off,” says the recorded message. My heart began to beat louder.

Is that a cough? Ouch! The chair collapses with me. Leg’s hurt, I’m sure. I begin to crawl to the room. The pain makes me groan. The door opens with a majestic loudness. That’s mom, “Rohan! Oh my god! Are you okay? Dear, what is happening?”

The pain is still there. They are safe. Nothing’s wrong. Should this night stay any longer? The phone’s screen has no plans to light up, it seems. “Switched off,” and once again that’s my heart that I am listening to.

I should have exhausted myself. Dad found me sleeping on floor, in front of his door. At least it is not night anymore. The phone has nothing new for me.

Eternity

There was a first time;

We met;

The date never stayed in my mind.

Aeons crawled away;

Then we sundered;

The date never stayed in my mind.

After all, dates reduce to numbers;

Why would they stay with me anyway?

For the past, the present, the future;

The presence fill them all.

Soulless

I hit him down; tied him up; didn't choke him though;

Life, I'm fed up with his dictations; no more lessons;

I'll take on from here.

A soulless creature starts his hunt

Once upon a time in Twitter

Pardon my ignorance, for I am really poor when it comes to finding words to describe the beauty that I saw in her. It was the prettiest thing that ever happened to me. Why did it rain? Why did I walk into the Coffee House?

“Nithin? You are Nithin Jayan...right? Wow this is cool! Still puzzled? We met in the timelines of twitter”

We talked for hours. It was like we knew each other for ages. It still rained.

Coffee; another hour; the rain never stopped.

The virtual world was gifting me a fairy tale to fill my rather mundane life.

Thunder!

It’s still dark.

What did she look like? Her voice? Her name? Her Handle?

A key stroke; the laptop wakes from sleep. The twitter whale jeers at me.

(Handle- username, Twitter whale- the fail whale that pops up when twitter fails)

Life: Enter Here

I stood facing the door. Fear would wear out any moment from now. Walking towards it was never my choice. I will now quit the search that I started aeons ago; the search for that invisible force that drove me. No more wasted seconds on it. A rather mundane home called ‘Life’ now has a frequent visitor. ‘Revelations’ is what he calls himself. I do remember one or two instances when I beckoned him, held his hands, brought him in, and served him tea. We talked for hours. I still curse the very moment I felt like telling him, “Don’t forget that signboard, my home’s just a minute from there.” What an unrefined guest he is? Or is it that my gestures still fail to speak my disapproval of his frequent visits? Today is yet another day; he will walk in any moment. Against my choice, he will hold me like his kid, and we would walk through that door. In his presence I am always a baffled listener with mouth wide open, a clamorous pounding heart and at times with goose flesh. He just smiles, as if he never spoke a word. The foundation of Life was laid 23 years back. Revelations is definitely older than anyone I know of. He says that we had actually met a long time before the ‘very first rendezvous that I speak about.’ I don’t have the faintest memory of that anyway. Who cares? I hate him.

Life is about to be taken over. It’s a shame, I know, when the new owner is being held back by Fear. I never knew that he existed. It has just been days since I was told, “Be ready my son, Life will soon be yours.” He appeared from now where. I always knew that something more real exists beyond that yet-to –be-explored door. That piece of information was again conveyed to me last summer by Revelations. Fear clocked in; I still remember that evil grin. “You can’t keep me away from that door for long mate,” I would say and Fear wouldn’t even blink.

I am confused; I hate Revelations, yet here I am waiting for him; I hate Fear, yet here I am using him as an excuse. The door is ajar.

And he walked in...

a Sixth Sense

I fear my intuitions. The past has taught me to do that. But to remain frozen on a dusty bench staring at the road for ten minutes is, yes it should be, crazy. Am I just hallucinating that these passers-by are throwing glares at me? I don’t know. I am not sure if this would happen. Neither am I an insane mortal inspired by those ‘Final Destination’ stuffs. No! this will happen!! What paralyses me is the fact that there isn’t a thing that I can control here. What is destined to happen is inexorable. I’m cursed. It’s like God ran out of everything that man can be bestowed with when he chose sixth-sense to be my gift. Am I the only one who can hear the tick from my wrist watch? How long is this going to take?

“Mom can I have it?”

“Wow, and that twinkle melts my heart? Okay fine, take it.”

“Love you Mom!”

“And that stays longer than that candy?”

“Now we’ll rush before it rains”

“Fear your Dad, not the rains…he’s all gaga over the party tonight”

“Rain rain go away...!”

“Now come here hold my hands. The road’s a mess.”

“Mom?”

“Okay what is it this time?”

“See that guy at the other side? That bench? He’s scaring me with a look Mom”

“I think I asked you give me your hands, now Master can you do that? The lights are yet to be repaired. It’s about to rain. If we don’t’ rush now I’ll have to win over the cold before it catches you.”

A cool breeze caressed every soul.

She held his hands and stepped on to the road.

AAAAAAAAARG! Oh, my ears. Lord I can’t stand this any longer. AAAAAAAARG!

“Is something wrong? Need any help?”

“Err no it’s fine, thanks.”

The young man walked away, swaying to sides. It began to rain.

Later that night, somewhere far away…

“Dad that guy’s look still scares me.”

“Oh tiger forget him now!”

'Life' BLOCK

And then I used to dream… the recording room, my writing pad (technically the key board), the dark thunderous cinema halls, drenched sports shoes, the pages of literature etc.

And then I had exams or eggjamz as I prefer to call. The mayhem that unleashed itself in the month of May sucked two months out of my life. Now I’m ‘23 minus 2 months’ old. A multitude of revelations, a new man was born. Call it a preterm delivery. A new child was born out of the 2 months’ period of gestation. So this is the new Nithin, apparently new!

Too many things changed. Lost many lives out here, discovered many. This blog died 2 months ago, only to take birth once again. The quest for expansion will begin once again. Compositions may walk in.

As of now, something’s wrong. I call it the Block, the Life Block. But yeah, like every other wall this will break.

Life’s been hard, and it’s only getting worse. But yeah I’ll live on for another hundred years and still be young.

My second dream will be declared ‘real’ in a few months.
Now that no one’s here…let me speak to that no one, ‘I AM BACK,’ back to myself.

the Mystery of SMRITI SRIVASTAVA

I woke up in a cloud of smoke. Now what's happening? Is that Eyjafjallajökull erupting? No, that's people 'thinking' hard...scientists all around the globe are still puzzled. The mystery still remains...

Because SMRITI SRIVASTAVA is getting younger every year

Blastin' B'day wishes 2 my Dearest of the dearest of the dearest

'DOLLZ'

'luv u so much...hugzz'

(4 those who came in late :click here)

Melancholia

In some dark corner of my heart she wept,
And softly sighed a tender, sad refrain;
Alas, my heart was bounding with the love it kept-
And drowned the cries of her for whom it strained

Nithin, Azgar, Rosh

the Great Indian Thamasha:STOP PRESS

Ignorance is bliss...when it comes to India

Mayavati: Age 54(?)

The currency garland: worth 18lakh?21lakh?21crore? (INR)

Country: India, Home of Mukesh Ambani



Sarjana: Age 6
Country: India, Home of the Mahatma

Six-year-old Sarjana, a class I student, has been raising money for those left homeless by Aila, the cyclone that hit West Bengal in May 2009.

Disturbed by images of devastation caused by the cyclone and eager to help, Sarjana has been singing and dancing on railway platforms to collect money from passers-by.

On Wednesday, this student of the Calcutta Public School met President Pratibha Patil with a cheque for Rs.205 for the Prime Minister's Relief Fund. Sarjana earned this money from a programme she did for All India Radio, Kolkata.

Two more cool images that'll make the insane yell out "Proud to be an Indian"


A Rajya Sabha member (left) tries to snatch copies of the Women's Reservation Bill from House Chairman Hamid Ansari on Monday.

The world's largest democracy elects the most culture less asses 2 de Upper House.


No Comments at all

I thought I was one of the biggest megalomaniacs around

(All news gathered from The Hindu)

Philip Kaun Hai (Who is Philip?)

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“Philip, tell me the pediatric dose of Ampicillin”

“Philip, what is the Plan C management of Acute Diarrheal Disease”

“Philip, Philip, Philip”

I begin to yawn

“Philip, Philip, Philip”

Thank god, it’s a classroom, and it’s the final year. There is no reason to panic. Self Control is an automated adaptation for survival. The green eyed monster is having a hard time trying the strenuous act of concentrating. It’s tough when the tutor is a pleasing appeal to the senses. When the smile is charming, the voice is filled with mesmerizing notes, and all these graceful facets are superimposed on excellent teaching skills, the end product is a serious mess in the minds of the innocuous listener.

Let’s call her Hema Ma’am. The first few dialogues used to be repeated whenever she took classes for us. It’s not that “Nithin Jayan”, or “Nithin Humayoon” or “Pooja” never reverberated in the air, but “Philip” itched my nerves. The guy is gifted with real ‘looks’, stupid chicks think he smiles like Tom Cruise…then he’s also a genius who spares very few hours to score well!!! So that means bitterness is justified.

That was about the first pediatrics postings that occurred months back. Time crawled by. Months later we are back. Same department, same unit, same set of professors, nothing has changed except for the minuscule changes that sprouted up as tiny grey hairs in *her head. (*Hema ma’am who else?) Philip is high and mighty these days. He would knock every one down so as to be the first one to step into Hema Ma’am’s O.P.room.

I yawned again. None of us needed an introduction.

But twists do happen.

Pointing at Philip, Hema Ma’am asked, “And You ARE?”

Silence…eyeballs pop out…everyone’s stunned…

TADA…music plays…drums

Tsunami?

“Philip”, he replies.

I am surprised.

“So you are Philip?” Madam’s question should have drilled through his heart.

“But, hmmm, is there another Philip in your class?” Madam probed again.

“No ma’am he’s the only one”, my voice was filled with evil satisfaction and a pinch of salt.

“I thought there was another Philip”

That’s it, that’s it

CHEERS.

Similar episodes recurred in the following days. Other tutors began to ask for “Philip”, but not our Philip.

Thus Mr. Tom Cruise is finally our new goal post.

“Malappuram Kathi, Nadan Bomb, avasanam Pavanayi shavamayi” the famous Malayalam ‘quote’ reverberate in the same air that once cradled “Philip, Philip, Philip”

Question still stays. Who’s this new Philip? Mystery continues

Plaster saint

'Love yourself before all men, for everything in the world rests on self-interest'- Dostoevsky

There are few mantras that require to be chanted at least a trillion times so that they get registered by your brain and get chiseled on the pillars of long term memory. Practicing them require greater efforts for I believe humans are born naive instilled with an ever-ready- to- change mindset. We change fast but unlike the seasons which are predictable and pre-programmed, our transitions are often drastic. Some blame it on the genes, others demand incarceration of environment. Where is my time to search for a cause? The smartest ones survive the rat race.

22 years and I’m still running…at times Time moves slow, at other times He rushes denying me chance to gulp in a puff of air. The existence of asynchrony is the only limiting factor. At times I used to be blind and deaf, but that was out of sheer ignorance. I mistook the World to be far superior to Heaven. I was too artless to see the demons who were veiled in the mist. The great tutor called Time who sent his army of tides against me instilled smartness.

No more do I open my eyes or strain my ears without reason. I live in a world of sanctimonious bastards. I’ve seen him empathize, listened to him blather philosophy, and opened the doors whenever he ran off to serve the destitute. The dusk uncloaked all that he cared about…Himself. I wonder what he’s trying to prove. It’s kind of a poor joke. It’s fun watching people. Everyone errs, else why are we branded as Humans? Life is all about serving one’s conscience. Do no Harm as far as possible, spread smiles as long as they don’t give you a strain. Compassion in all its purity may be discovered someday. But who is going to waste time waiting for that day? I don’t have seconds to spare…it’s me and just me, at least I’m trying hard to pretend that it’s so.


Everybody has a story to tell, but I have too many…
Not sure if too long is the time that I have in hands,
But yeah there is a time for all, I’ll call it the Time of times.

Who knows, what you’ve read might be a prologue,
To the story of a hypocrite.

(ps. This ain't a promise...as I always say, Promises n kids are alike...easy 2 give but hard 2 deliver)

Silence of the Heart

I know I know…I am not sure if this is the first request that I am firing. But, yeah you know well…that this is the time. Now or…’Never’??? Nerds say that answer to all lie hidden in the sub conscious mind…but where’s the key to this much hyped safe? Who cares…I wonder why I’m in a fix when things are clearer than day light. But…no…something’s wrong somewhere…it always is. So are you going to yell out or what? It’s just a word…”Yes” or a “No”. Yeah, I’m used to your silence…but now…It’s deafening me. I’m just a step away from insanity. I used to read your eyes very well. Every gesture…every blink…and true you never spoke. Dumb…you where…but never deaf. I used to get an answer every time, and yeah always in my favour. What else could come out from you?

But mate…or myself….whatever you are…tell me now…a Yes or a No. Lives rest in those letters…Some asked me to follow my heart. Yeah I let my heart drive, ignored the brain for a while. Lucky I was…the trouble I drove into was a sweet one. Apparently the world was good…for a while…and then came in a binge of reality...and Fantasies rushed to places I would never reach…I didn’t want to search for them either.

This is what Life is after all. What is the thrill if everything happens the way I wish…the way I want…the way I dream? Life has to move on…with every second filled with vigour. No…the grapes are not sour…and it’s not always a matter of perception.

Well…you never change…the same old silence…I won’t blame you…But yeah It’ll get darker, and then you disappear…but….but…I don’t want you to return…at least for a while…I’m going to take away your life…

The sound of shattering glass echoed for a while.

He didn’t die, did he glare? No…he’s always calm…from one of those shattered pieces he was smiling… conveying his answer…was that a Yes or a No?