I have planted my best seeds in barren ground

Love is like light

You absorb some of it

Reflect some of it

And refract the rest

Not long ago we were on the same starting point in a circular course

But we were facing opposite directions

Now we approach meeting in the middle

Best if we collided and dwelled on a common point again

Else our meeting would be fleeting

And you’d become me and I you

And such a sad painful life it would be

If it’s your love that ends up silently shining into dark space.

Same sad life now, only for longer and for ever



The usual surprises, the usual favoritism and the usual you-gotta-hand-it-to-thems. It’s never boring. There were a shit load of films in 2012. A freaking bonafide honest-to-God feast. This is the Oscars. My favorite Award show!

Valentine’s Day


I woke up after a long nap yesterday, went about my business and promptly got assaulted by a sea of red. I hate red in most things but none surpasses red clothes. If I were Neo in The Matrix, I wouldn’t have given the woman in red a second look. And I’d have taken the blue pill. So nauseous was I of all the red that I had to come back inside and catch my breath. I put on the tube and some dude was bleating about the season of love or something. That was when I realized it was Valentine’s day. The blasted Valentine’s day.

I hate Valentine’s Day and all the commotion that comes along with it. Other people who tell you they don’t believe in Valentine’s because one should have a loving nature 365 days a year only piss me off even more. I could wait for a leap year and lynch all of such people.

In secondary school I bought this girl I fancied, but never really talked to, some expensive biscuits and an even more expensive greeting card. If you are thinking it was on Valentine’s day, you’re wrong. The occasion was her birthday but her birthday was so close to Valentine’s day my friends figured  I could have two shots at the big kahuna.. The plan was give her the presents for her birthday and while she’s still thinking about how awesome I was, ask her out on a date with the Valentine thing as some sort of cover. Allow me to explain what cover means. The cover here signifies saving face in case she rejects you or even if she accepts the offer; she knows it’s more like a seasonal thing and you may or may not be interested in her per se but you have to go out with somebody because it is Valentine’s day and it might as well be her.

So the school has closed for the day and it is time to go in for the kill. I spot her outside eating my expensive biscuits. Sweet, I thought. She must be loving those and she might just say yes without giving much thought as to how short I am. She would have me on her palate if not her mind. There was no time to waste. Summarizing a long and traumatic story, I asked her to be that most ambiguous thing called ‘my val’ and she says to me, while drowning my expensive biscuits in her alimentary canal, that she already had a val.  Huh? I wasn’t prepared for this variation in the script. I was ready to name the time and place but this response doesn’t solicit a time and place. In that instant it hit me that my allowance was getting crushed by her molars and my heart sunk. I was fourteen years old. I think if I was a woman, I’d have gone out with me back then. I was a sweet little thing..

This anecdote isn’t really why I hate Valentine’s day though it’s a major contributor. What drives me nuts now is that I find grownup men and women, acting like February 14th is a day ordained by God almighty to love someone or die trying. Some people that think that just because it’s Valentine’s day, I’d suddenly love your guts today; the same guts I hated so much yesterday. You see guys hoping that a pathologically shallow woman would choose the day to see beyond your unkempt hair, creepy sense of humour, zero sense of style, zero bank account balance and those sensational buck teeth. Some guys even develop the gumption to propose on Valentine’s day. Jeez! It’s probably a variation of the cover mentality I mentioned earlier.

Then there are the pretentious girls who measure the value of their lives by how many hearts they get to break or by how many advances they get to turn down. They actually do everything but slap a “ASK ME OUT” neon sign on their foreheads. These girls will tell you they have a val and once you’re out of their sight (sometimes they don’t even extend you this courtesy) they make an entry in their book of turned down bozos. Don’t buy them any biscuits or greeting cards and you may just walk away unscathed. Then there are the hopeless romantic (but secretly dominatrix) girls who expect you to open the door for them and call them my lady all day even though she hasn’t given you back the money you lent her since last month.

I hate red and I hate all the mushy commercials and all the Valentine’s day spirit crap because it reminds me  I’m not with anyone right now and I feel so alone and left out. There, I said it. Sob sob.

Of things that are beautiful


Have you ever witnessed the birth of a child?
A fragile babe thrust violently into our vile world?
One more innocent one stained by the first lungful of air
Such a beautiful thing it is, still

Have you ever smelt the morning dew on leaves, so mild?
Or the glint in an infant’s eye, lovingly hurled
Even though it would be fair game to a hungry bear
Such a beautiful thing it is still

Have you ever listened to the calmness of a small stream?
Even as it never ceases in readiness to drown our little lad
It brims with sustenance for us and sustenance for our sustenance
And such a beautiful thing it is still

Have you ever dreamt a good dream?
The kind you promptly forget you had
But a careless smile lingers upon your countenance
It’s such a beautiful thing still

Have you ever tasted the bone marrow of deer?
Even though you still see the fierce light in its eyes
Without remorse, only gratitude, you plunge your knife
It’s a beautiful thing still

Have you ever felt the mix of hope and fear?
As you gaze upon the woman with whom all your love lies
And you ask her to be your wife
And with conviction, she says no.
That’s the most terrible thing of all.

Just found this awesome blog and this awesome post. May be reblogging a lot of what’s on there

You Are Not So Smart

The Misconception: You take randomness into account when determining cause and effect.

The Truth: You tend to ignore random chance when the results seem meaningful or when you want a random event to have a meaningful cause.

Abraham Lincoln and John F. Kennedy were both presidents of the United States, elected 100 years apart. Both were shot and killed by assassins who were known by three names with 15 letters, John Wilkes Booth and Lee Harvey Oswald, and neither killer would make it to trial.

Spooky, huh? It gets better.

Lincoln had a secretary named Kennedy, and Kennedy had a secretary named Lincoln.

They were both killed on a Friday while sitting next to their wives, Lincoln in the Ford Theater, Kennedy in a Lincoln made by Ford.

Both men were succeeded by a man named Johnson – Andrew for Lincoln and Lyndon for Kennedy. Andrew was born in 1808. Lyndon in…

View original post 2,503 more words


How absurd is the desire of a man?

Who trades the gem he possesses to covet what is but half in value

How confusing is the affection of a woman?

Who loves you less the more you love her

How foolish is the lass?

Who, at the simplest of kind gestures, falls hopelessly

How tragic is the lad?

Who once loved with all his heart, but is now an empty shell of dearth and apathy

How sad are the newlywed lovers?

Who have just run out of love to love with

How loyal is a man’s love

That it remains faithful through a thousand temptations

How simple is a woman’s love?

That endures on even as her lover submits to vagaries

How wise is a girl’s love

That ignores the struts and vaunts but peers into the heart

How inspiring is the boy’s love?

That after yet another broken heart, continues to love with what’s left of it

How enduring is the love of an old withering couple

That they find new ways to love each other despite it all




David opened his eyes 5 years after he last closed them. His trigger memories did not return to him right away. He was capable of thought but not yet with words or language. He couldn’t move his body but his vitals were functioning on their own now. He was naked and suspended in what is best described as air. If he remembered what being at peace was, he would say he was peaceful.

A globe, the size of his head, like a shiny blob of liquid mercury, hovered above him. It was shimmering as if continuously adjusting its form, maintaining its spherical shape. It hovered with a hypnotic stillness. He looked at it without curiosity or fear or any emotion at all. His eyes focused on it because that was all there was to focus on. He had started to feel sleepy before the liquid ball changed form, oblong now, and began to glow, a pulsing dull green.  The light grew in intensity and suddenly spilled out in the form of a laser sheet. The sheet of green light slowly moved across his torso, scanning his body from head to toe. When the light reached his toes, the colour changed to blue and it started to scan back upwards to his head. The light abruptly went off and the blob returned to its former shape. If David was connected to his higher senses, he would have felt an intense feeling of well being as the light coursed over him. A thought was imprinted in his mind which can be best translated into words as ‘You’re almost there.’ The globe hovered away from him till he could not see it again. He slept.


He woke. Things were different this time. He remembered everything. He remembered his wife and children. He remembered his mission. He remembered his—-death. What is going on, he thought. Is this heaven? He remembered what he saw the last time he was awake. Everywhere was white. He could see only his body. There was absolutely no sense of scale. Because there were no shadows, he couldn’t tell where the room started or ended. He couldn’t tell if he was even in a room for everything was emitting light but not light that cast shadows. It was intangible light, that didn’t cast shadows or blind him. He was lying down and he got up. He was held up, but by what force he could not tell. He could walk but walking didn’t feel like going anywhere for there was no relative movement of anything else. He called out in English but absolutely no sound came forth. He screamed, ‘HEY,’ but nothing.

Then a thought came into his mind. It was not his thought. It was not inspiration. It was imprinted, stamped. It was very alien and intrusive. It was as loud and clear as anything he had ever heard. The thought was not in a language. It just was. The thought told him, “You died. You’re reborn”

He didn’t know how to respond. He tried to speak but remembered what happened earlier.

Another thought was deposited into him, ‘Whatever you think, we’re privy to it’

You mean you can hear me, he thought. Who are you?

Who we are is not important. Who you are is.


To be continued