Dreams of Insomniac slumber

most men dream while they sleep
Sweet dreams broadens their imaginary lips and makes them smile
lengthen their slumber in hopes of living the dream just a few more heartbeats.

Nightmares widens the real eyes, mutes the sweet lullaby, drives away the sleep
We draw solace in the more comfortable reality
We throw up prayers for the sweet dreams to come to pass
to lock away the nightmares in some corner far away from the world we breathe.

But my sweet dreams come to my life when I am wide awake
I fear the thought of dreaming about you while I sleep
I may never want to wake up
to break my dream of you by my side as I dream.

My nightmares are all about losing you
Although I only dream of winning the love of you
Tell me love how do I lengthen my slumber with my eyes wide awake
How do I embrace the decree of the Gods, chase away my nightmares
for I have not dreamt in my sleep.

rumblings on 23rd December

With every passing strand of time,

I find myself at the mercy of the same Gods

I can't reconcile with the truth

that you will love someone else.

I find myself bereft of words

Rhythmic verses have transformed into hollow proses.

My heart bleeds to win your heat

My eardrums strain to hear your voice

My mind conjures images to fool my eyes

To tell me that you are here.

My mind create false hopes

that I create a situation

to hear your thoughts.

This is the last stage of bargaining.

A last prayer telling the Gods

I seek not the lighthouse

but the distant warmth of the rays

to bring a smile to my lips.

The heroes of a defective piece

On of the most nonsensical things, I do is that of browsing through the long list of status messages of my long list of g talk friends. One of these messages pertained to George Bernard Shaw or GBS as he is popularly known. He was one of my childhood heroes not because I was a great fan of his writing or his wit of which i came to know much later. Someone told me he had migraine that was it. I have always had migraine for as long as i can remember. As my flatmate (Sam) says, I am a defective piece in whom God packed a multitude of maladies and bestowed the in-flinching determination to tide over them. Sometimes I feel like GOD must really be liking the daily colossal battles between my mind and the body and that of my body with my body. In those dark moments as i searched for a wall to bang my head or a hammer to hit my forehead, names such as GBS inspired me to carry on. Although, i did break a few cricket bats and walls, my skull was apparently strong enough to withstand the barrage of assaults. Those strategic hits to my head were not out of frustration or despondence but they were temporary retrieve from the throbbing pain that was wrecking my head. A painful distraction from the chronic pain that was killing me within and yet not allowing me to die.

Another name that has been in the news of late is Wasim Akram. He was a great bowler, a great person but above all he was a great fighter. He was a diabetic. For the infinitely small number of readers of my blog who don't know about it- I am a 23 year old diabetic - who was diagnosed with this killer at the age of 21. But I have been a devotee of Akram for much longer. As many of you might be knowing , you are usually born with diabetes,as the child of a diabetic father and diabetic mother and grandson of a diabetic grandfather, I knew of this eventuality long before the actual diagnosis. Periodically my father used to not do so well with his health and used to bitch a bit a bout the disease. To cheer him up, I used to talk about Akram. I idolize Akram for all those talk i had with my father. When i was diagnosed, my parents were in tears. My father did not cry in front of me but I knew he did. As for my mother, she suspected i got it even before the doctors told her so all the rivers in the world were flowing from her eyes. I was the only one least affected, at least I had to pretend to . So, I started one of the essays on Akram.

On a lighter note, I am now desperately looking for the hero who would inspire me to win my other fight - win over the heart of my current crush or become a playboy.

beauty and sexy

In the twilight of my teenage years, sexy had an devilish forbidden tinge to the emotions and reactions evoked. But beauty was always beautiful, always good, always heavenly, always worshiped.

That brings out the question before me today what is beautiful and who is sexy. Even this very question has in it a few threads of the fabric on which i shall attempt to answer this question to myself.Rather it is probably my flawed interpretations that results in the based use of the words who and what. This gangotric bias means i search for abstract beauty and material sexiness.

Thanks to the lots of page 3, we often come across rankings of the most beautiful and sexy personalities, actress, celebrities and even first ladies. now what is that makes Hema Malini or a Megan Fox beautiful in the eyes of the scribes.The truth is I don't know.One documentary i saw in my kgp days tries to answer this question in terms of mathematical ratios, the host who is the new Q of james bond franchise compared the ratios of his own face and that of Liz hurley :D.

But I am still not convinced, I have five sense organs and a mind that dreams and dreams a lot. The only guiding light I acknowledge as light is the statement by keats "A thing of beauty is joy forever". Joy that can enter your hearts through eyes,ears,touch,nose, tongue and even lazy ruminations of the days gone by.Since Keats had no words for sexy, I shall stick to the mathematical definition of sexy or as sheldon told abt his sister in big bang theory "having the right amount in right places". This may be sexist post, but it is intensely personal n hence contains a guys perspective.

This is more of a monologue to me counting the infinite number of reasons as to why i feel ******* is the most beautiful person I have ever met in my life. Since my liking for her is destined to go unrequited, I have made a zillion attempts to like someone else to declare some as more beautiful, but i guess I am the hitler of 1944 fighting on two doomed fronts. For those of who dont know who ******* is, it will stay that way but I guess a bulk of the people who read my blabber know who she is. Unfortunately she no longer reads my blog I guess. As regards to things photographs are probably the most beautiful things man can make and corals and Arunachal the second most beautiful things God can make.

Talking about sexy, it has a very mundane connotations, at least for me, I may find my worst enemy to be sexy but I don't think they will ever be beautiful, a person for whom I will risk my life. I don't think i am selfless enough to say I like someone more than me, but probably things and persons I consider beautiful would precede me on my only escape ladder. I guess the post has already turned out to be long enough, so i try to put toppers of my sexy list.

********** (Don't ask me why I don't know )

Jessica Alba

Megan Fox

lamborgini

concorde

Law of averages and Instant Karma

My favorite TV series is house m.d.

I have had several reasons for liking it for the past year and a half as i compresses six(and counting) seasons of entertainment in these months. It will not be an overstatement to say that my pathological suspicion about the quality of any three hour long marathon coming from bollywood has more to do with TV series than any Hollywood blockbuster. For just like bollywood, every Hollywood movie has one theme, some great evil strikes and some American guy(or the occasional Brit Commodore Bond) saves the world doing stunts that would put Mithun at his inglorious worst to same. Yet, I am an Engineer(at least my degree says so :)) hence I find myself marveling at the technical briliance. This is not to say that Hollywood movies are not great, I saw the dark knight -five minutes-travelling 120 kms to the nearest multiplex. Even back home, we have had works like Taare Zameen Pe, Black, Jhonny Gaddar and the likes. But good movies are usually an aberration than anything else.

Talking about my favorite House M.D. (and for people who do not think my show is the best- I really like Boston Legal, HIMYM,Big Bang,Prison Break and the rest abd I hate South Park and Friends) , it satisfies my craving for comedy,mystery, digital lust(Lisa Cuddy rocks!!). Also for the bulk of months,I have galloping the sound bytes and visual kilobytes, the tv series closely mirrored life. I was diagonised with diabetes, some results (actually almost all) interpreted it as type 1, but one doctor said it might be 2, he conjured a test which told that there is possibility of type 2. So, like House usually does, the doctor put me on some mixed therapy for a year,if the therapy succeeded, it meant I had type 2 (MTV :D) mind it type 1 treatment for type 2 can be fatal.

But there are so many reasons (many of them emanating from the fact that you just like) for liking something or someone. For that matter, although incongruous,there can be a single reason for disliking or not disliking something or someone (one of them being you like something/someone too much to spare any of you hormones to dislike). So, why do I like House, its funny, it gives hope, it celebrates brilliance, it celebrates the innate goodness in every person, its protagonists are flawed persons. Above, it trusts the intelligence of the viewers, it does not enforce any particular point of view.This week's episode was one such example. Like in every other episode a random dialogue triggers House's enlightenment yet it leaves it blank whether karma does have role.

Now as to why I am writing my first blog on a tv-series,I watch almost everyday. Some part of me wants to believe in law of averages. Maybe I have had the better share of luck throughout of life, but my skewed and screwed arithmetic always says that till now, I have frequently brushed the ugly side of luck. When I look at the obviously incorrect (or maybe correct) numbers(nothing to do with the tv series), I just hope and get a positive vibe for the one thing( or person) I so dearly like.

Why Obama can and I cant

Well when we thought winning presidency for a black was difficult, and elevated "yes we can" to the higher pedestal of inspiring quotes. It seems Obama can do a lot more things none of which includes things like killing reviving economy,creating jobs,combating illness that kills people. He can kill scores of people and then win a noble peace prize.

He can give grant to terrorists to kill innocents, kill innocents, dance like w*** to the Chinese tunes, partake in the death of democracy in afghanistan, do nothing about Myanmar, try to arrest development of developing nations under the garb of environmental and other labour issues.Yes, he can, yes he can

unrequited Love of my unrequited love

I plead, I beg, I scream, I pray I cry

for it to leave me alone

Yet it still comforts my eyes

When I cry all alone.

When my eyes scream

"No more tears to rain"

It make me dream

About Dancing in the rain

With the one I wish I live on till eternity

And my tears go away to the distant island of reality.

Requited love is only a crown of thorns

that forever conspires to keep you forlorn.

The pain of parting makes your heart shiver in fear

You need your ears to hear

You need your mind to listen

What the nose might have spoken

You need your skin to tell that she is actually here

To reassure your mind that you are near

To the one who is so dear.

In unrequited love, I meet, I kiss, I love my love

When I wish,when I want where I claim

For I can dream when i wish, where I want.

I need no music, no sight, no fragrance, no touch

For I can dream what I want and how I want

For I am the love of unrequited love .

Yet I wish for the crown of thorns

Auto-Rickshaws

First of all I got a confession to make as to why I am writing a post that is neither a review of the latest movie I had seen, the last novel I read or one of my infinitely long cribbing about my lack of any luck with the opposite gender. I never intended to write this post, all morning I was thinking of the title to my blog on the ray of hope called Salman Rushdie. Since, it does not seem remotely possible that any girl will fall for me in the near future and my firm resolve to not be the only person in my generation in my immediate family to indulge in arranged marriage, it seems I will get a girl only when I am fifty and rich and famous. The positives about such wishful thinking is that at least I will try to be rich and famous till I am fifty. It is another matter whether I get a Padma Lakshmi or not. Actually I am just trying to imitate an ostrich when I say it is another matter for my only two crushes crushed some of my best friendships I had cultivated. Of course wisdom prevailed in round two and I salvaged the wreckage to some extent.
Now that I have accomplished drawing tangents around the topic of the post, I guess its time to draw the diameter, I did not want another round of curses as I forced my net savvy friends and juniors to publicize my post and post comments.

With the confession settled I guess its time to fill the dots. For those of us who does not own a vehicle, public transport is a story of everyday life. For bachelors like me, invariably it is the auto. Having left kgp sometime back, I am now more or less settled in Hyderabad. I usually commute to and from work in an auto. My life has seen me settle down temporarily in many places from the idyllic village called rohmoria in Assam, which has since been swallowed by the Brahmaputra to the concrete jungles of Delhi, Kolkata and the island called Kharagpur. Besides, my frequent battles with my health sees me traveling to Chennai pretty frequently. All these experiences have inculcated in me a pathological suspicion towards the person who drives the rickshaw or taxi or auto. Here in Hyderabad, most autos ply by the government approved rates unlike other parts of India. But every now and then someone hikes up the price, it has the immediate effect of waking up my hibernating bargaining skills. I now usually drive a hard bargain,scream over a few rupees. Amongst all these, there is one particular auto driver who usually takes me to office when I am late, he always charges the right amount. Yesterday he was asking how much I earn and in which building I work. I felt kind of awkward, and replied I earn enough to more than comfortably feed myself. He then ask do I earn around twenty thousand. I said I earn a bit more. The conversation ended therein.

Today morning again I took an auto to my house , the auto demanded 30, I finally got it settled for 25. Probably, I will indulge in the same again. The thing is who is overpaid and who is not. What is the right price for the trip, I dont know. Till then my pathological suspicion will continue to rule my head.