मैं शायर गुमनाम - 1

These are some of the shers I wrote long back when my life was all shit. Today, I'm the luckiest person on earth.

Gaur farmayein! :)

Sailab
Har hanstey chehre ke peechhe kai sailab hote hain,

Wo dard hi kya jo sar-e-aam beparda ho jaaye...

Zinda

Nabz chal rahi hai, saansein le rahe hain,

Khud ko zinda kehne ka dil nahi kar raha...

Aag

Kaali andheri is raat ki jaane kab subah hogi,

Andar ki is aag se ujala kyun nahi hota...

Aandhi

Ik aandhi kya aayi aasra khojne lagey,

Us toofaan ka kya jismein akela chhod diya humein...

Der

Todna hi tha dil toh itni der kyun lagai,

Uunchaai se girakar zakhm dena chahte they aap...

:o

Disclaimer: If you smell sexism, trust me, you are a hardcore sexist by heart. Kindly get your egos shrunk, minds broadened, maturity upped and irritabilities switched off. Freedom of expression is what I was born with.

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They say science can explain everything – from falling apples to shining trails of light in the sky. But lately I have been bewildered by some of the greatest wonders of the world. The phenomena I’m talking about are not new at all. In fact, as impossible as it might sound, they date older than Shit-Rukh Khan. These have been an integral part of our daily lives, intertwined in such a manner that we no more marvel at their subtle existence.

These are some of the greatest mysteries. Unnoticed. Untalked about. Unsolved. But ultimately baffling.

One. I hear the fairer sex is sick of the better sex staring at their so-called assets in full daylight. If caught in the process, the “starer” from the curious sex is given so cold, mean and snobbish looks by the “staree” from the presumptuous sex that the former from the victimized sex has no option left but to un-stare. But would anyone care to explain why would the dumber sex adorn the pre-mentioned assets with t-shirts that sport a. catchy quotes b. crazy fonts c. flashy colours d. all of the above and beg for attention?

Two. Our action hero is waiting impatiently for her girl on their date on the thirty-second floor of a Rajasthani fort in Mumbai. He has the glow of fresh blood sucked out (khoon pee jaunga!) from the one-eyed villain who murdered his father in the last century. Back home he has a younger sister knitting on a wheelchair and a mother dieing on a shabby bed. And the heroine arrives. In no more than five minutes, we find the couple singing duets and dancing acrobatically!!! My common sense fails me everytime I try to find logic behind Bollywood couples “dancing” on dates. What’s this fetish? I mean, there are a million things to do (by the doer sex) or talk (by the talker sex). But why, of all the things, sing and dance?

Three. If that’s not all, the amazingly secluded terrace suddenly gets crowded by twenty people dancing behind the two (strictly equal number of males and females dancing in pairs as if it’s a group-date). I wonder who first thought of this masterstroke of placing uncles and aunties behind our couple on their date!! “Dance, India, Dance”!!

Four. Ever wondered when you accidentally enter the ladies’ section while ambling around in a shopping mall and some ladies’ tees catch your fancy? Almost all the quotes are always full of pseudo-attitude and inexplicable airs around them. Have you ever seen a guy sporting “Here comes trouble” or “I will date everyone but not you”. No. I mean, what’s with this show of unwarranted air? What exactly does the show-off sex want to show off? If you are your “dad’s bad girl”, be. Why do you have to stick in our faces? I’m sorry, babe, but if your t-shirt says more than you can pull off about how independent and obsessed-with-freedom you are, you are no better than Paulomi 2.0 from MTV Roadies 6.0!!!

Five. Another huge mystery is how some of the people from the inexplicable sex turn total sluts post-breakups. Swearing by their guys’ names when in a relationship, how can they find comfort in every damn pair of arms that comes their way? Apologies if all this hurts you, but all I can understand is that you were always a hippie by heart smothered by a relationship, the end of which not only provides you with sympathies from all quarters but an all-encompassing license to flirt. Why did you pretend to be in a sincere relationship, then? I feel happy for the guy who broke up with you.

There are a few more like:

· Why didn’t mythological characters have surnames back then (ala raVun Gupta)?
· Why does a doctor’s handwriting always suck?
· Why is the class name always written in Roman numerals on the classroom door? (IV ‘C’)
· Why don’t people remove air travel tags from their luggage?
· Why don’t we hear songs like “Thaade rahiyo, o baankey yaar” or “Na na kartey pyar tumhi se kar baithe” anywhere else but while playing the Indian game of Antakshari?
· Why doesn’t anyone else smell foreign hands of Cadbury-Kraft in the weakening of Indian economy when a one-rupee coin is replaced by an éclairs candy pan-India?
· How on earth did Shit-Rukh become an actor?!!??!!
· What is the purpose of KKR’s existence except merchandise-selling?
· Why do you go through all this shit on my blog?

You are welcome onboard if you are either of James Bond, Indiana Jones or ACP Pradyuman. The mysteries are unending. The answers I want. Feel free to take a shot in the space provided below.

Hiya!

Thanks for all the nice pings and mails and comments of appreciation. Honestly, it was humbling!I never knew so many people missed me here. I suppose it wouldn’t be possible to maintain the same frequency of posts but I’ll try to keep up. Also, rest assured that I will read all your blogs and comments and mails and tweets and reply to them in due course of time. Also, I see a few new followers. Great choice! :P Thanks again!
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I’ve been off my blog for twenty days now. For nerds knowing what radioactivity is, my blog is made up of a hyper radioactive material called khuja-lee having a half life of a million years. For the “kewl” junta, it implies that occurrence of a patch of such cessation of activity on my blog is as improbable as KKR winning an IPL match, or even more.

The reason behind this rare phenomenon of ‘judai’ is the occurrence of another phenomenon – Summer Internship. Without going into the details of the experience - which calls for a totally separate blog altogether – it would suffice if I say it’s been a heavenly experience till now.

Some of the retailers I’ve visited for data collection have treated me worse than they treated lepers in Latin America in the 30s. The heat is awesome: I start wondering the moment I find myself not sweating. Scorching sun has suddenly made the back of my neck magically granular. The traffic of Ranchi has raped the gears of my bike so bad that I wish Kieren Pollard hit me for a six everytime I have to crawl at less than ten kmph for ten minutes at a stretch.

Rewinding, the internship commenced at the city of joy (I wonder who called it that first!) – Kolkata. For someone who has lived all his life in one of the most planned towns in India, Kolkata was a synonym for paranoia. And it lived upto the (un)expectations. An account follows.

You know you’re in Kolkata when:

• The cabbies start “bargaining” from Rs. 280 and end up taking passengers for Rs. 80!
• The platform security check-up is a gigantic sham as anyone can bypass it through an eatery on the corner called ‘Comesum’ with two doors!
• The waiting room on the platform is on the second floor with fifty stairs!!!! (Grrrrr)
• The traffic jams every two minutes – right, every two minutes – raise no eyebrows at all: such is the level of acceptance!
• Girls in airtight jeans and more make-up than Shilpa Shetty buy lingerie with their boyfriends on the footpath!
• The crowd makes you think that all of the one billion Indians live in Kolkata!
• You find people crossing the roads running on the zebra crossings!
• You find kids bathing in full shame-shame costumes at the hand pumps by the side of the streets with more than average traffic!
• You sweat like a pig!
• There are no dustbins – AT ALL! The whole city is one big shameful crapbag!
• Everyone, I repeat, everyone smokes!!

God help the city, especially on the grand eve of the biggest festival of all time – an IPL match – when everyone seems to go insane.

Anyway, I guess I’m back on the blog and would be more frequent than the Haley’s Comet from now on. So what have you been upto?