I normally blog about the problems of the whole white world, Asians included. This time its a concoction of a bewilderingly pleasant experience, asserting that I am not a psycho pervert who cannot stand a lukewarm glass of milk, and about the atrocious society called Neighbourhood Beggars Unlimited to India (NBUI).
First come second and the first phrase of the title, I have been an integral part of two weddings and nobody's funeral for the past one month. Exasperating, as it may seem, the whole experience left me more enriched than wasted - when you have a wife like mine no experience is boring, atleast for the time being. Couple of my childhood bumchums got to walk down the aisle and were strapped up for the longest walk of their life with their respective counterparts. One in my very own backyard high school church, which I religiously never attended during those technicolor years. The other one was a climb, a mighty long one. Well, I rested my hopes on the subdued horses of a hatchback and a composed driver. Importantly, the big guy in a golden temple atop the hill, who demands your flowing locks as a gift, professed enough care that I safely reached him. The weddings were awesome and the food delighted me - Vegeterian Brahmin and Non- Vegeterian Christian, booze included. For once, the self professed dietician in me took a hike elsewhere and I felt ecstasy with every morsel of grain I had. Come on, how many people start an experience of two weddings with shaking a leg to a ritual called Murfah (pity you all who dont know about it) and conclude it with a pilgrimage, remniscient of the Garden of Eden, in the dewiest and mistiest of winter morns?
Oh, when I talked about nobody's funeral, I am talking about the 'average Junaid' in Pakistan - the downtrodden but a proud nation of effervescent, religious zealots. Junaid, you are dead. You are a piece of pinkish purple cloth and plastic being played adroitly by a non-civilian puppeteer; no rights, no pride and no possession. Governments remorsefully are formed and constitutions painfully are ammended as per the whims of the local Nero. Uniformly, the sedentary mousefaced appearance of the uniform guy is going to get you, effectively manipulating your lifestyle. The white-veiled baroness, daughter of the last real Sultan of masses, who is brokering power with the Prez Parvez is prima facie to the welcome flames of the not-so-happy welcomers. Some herioc welcome for the so-called heroine whose philadering husband can vouch for. The exiled baldie, whose whereabouts are unknown to his own shadow, is hoarsen with suppressed shouts of freedom and all the hoopala. pa:kIsta:n - The land of the pure can be recoined as pakI:stan - The land of shit (Synonym sourced from a simply-south language - Telugu) . Dengirated souls squabbled for nooks of protection whilst being mute spectators to the blasts from the past, present and represent. All pandemonium had to happen after the holiest month of Ramadan. Well, Allah almost died in your country and he is not very proud of it.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Popular, Affluent, Gorgeous, Egalitarian 3
a.k.a Page 3, a.k.a Who's Who (Come on ppleeasseee !!!) - the collective set of people, dismembered from the social fabric encompassing the everyday man by the third estate. Marvelling themselves as the superior creatures of all carnal creation, they fill up the newsprint and the television times of ours with their spanky cars and fancy parties. Hey, I have some news for you Page 3s - Go spend the time jacking off at home than wasting my newsprint.
Let me play Linnaeus, the taxonomist, for a while in order to put you down into species.
First, foremost and definitely not my favorite, Richwifus Horridus - the rattle snake who bit the right man and at the right moment. Blowing 'his'(lovelorn husband's) money on their whims and putting up a farce show to high school chums; that its the unprecendented charm of theirs that took them places. You live life out of a glasscase which you don't even own, rhetorically speaking. Apparently, nothing in this world escapes their intellect and thou's art skills exceed Michelangelo. Destiny, inebriated, has really touched your breast and fondled it.
Secondly, Easycoma Bonasus - the bison/bull who dared the success machine and beat it to pulp. Only, sucess which sways at their feet is apocryphal and factually, should have bedded some other person. Best of the lot in terms of talent but polarised in view and tastes. Avoidable at the party circuit but very important else where. The seminal quality that they possess is they envisage themselves as Jupiter, Mars, Saturn and Venus- not the heavenly bodies but the bodies of heaven - Gods. Subspecies include entertainers, artists, filmstars, TV stars (Whew!!! Its sad that I have to mention them), sportspersons, etc.
Thirdly, Artgallus Ontidate - the most cambric, capricious congregation of chameleons, whose art and social skills are nothing inferior in rank to Himalayas, but whose yardstick of being happening is to be seen around these places. They are 'have beens' and need the publicity for their own betterment. Being in the locus of theirs is very interesting - whether its the lap or the loquacious skills.
Finally, Sephia Hircus - the beautiful strangers, goats, usually on invitation or hired by the desperate host to make tongues wag. They are the wannabes who color the party brown, green, red and all the other colors. Cocktail hogging, pelvis displaying, nonsense mongering - are the primary job of these downtrodden species. Pull a string and all of these fall like nine pins. A very nice company for a nice evening, these are the people whose faces are embossed alongside the Ritchie Riches in the newspapers. (The author fancies their company but is not sure of the long lasting effects)
Great to know you all but how does my life change in anyway, if I get to know you? My friends have been very vocal about how life is changing? or does the new starlet needs to work on her couture? or Do mothers add the right pinch of salt in the midday meal? We are never featured. We are never shown the shortcut to limelight. I guess that it could be this jealousy making me write, but I am sure that the Elite have nothing better than us to talk about. Only, you do that at a much fancier place while we waste our time in a dingy place which reminds people of Cockney urchin infested places. We do it over coffee and croissants while you do it over caviar and cocktails. Everything claimed and said, I stoop down to urge you to stop this mothering of the society while worrying whether the olive is wet or not in your dry martini. May be I will join you soon or may be I dont give a damn.
Closing Comments
===========
Pervert, Arrogant, Gargantuan, Engrossed 3...... Thats what you are
Let me play Linnaeus, the taxonomist, for a while in order to put you down into species.
First, foremost and definitely not my favorite, Richwifus Horridus - the rattle snake who bit the right man and at the right moment. Blowing 'his'(lovelorn husband's) money on their whims and putting up a farce show to high school chums; that its the unprecendented charm of theirs that took them places. You live life out of a glasscase which you don't even own, rhetorically speaking. Apparently, nothing in this world escapes their intellect and thou's art skills exceed Michelangelo. Destiny, inebriated, has really touched your breast and fondled it.
Secondly, Easycoma Bonasus - the bison/bull who dared the success machine and beat it to pulp. Only, sucess which sways at their feet is apocryphal and factually, should have bedded some other person. Best of the lot in terms of talent but polarised in view and tastes. Avoidable at the party circuit but very important else where. The seminal quality that they possess is they envisage themselves as Jupiter, Mars, Saturn and Venus- not the heavenly bodies but the bodies of heaven - Gods. Subspecies include entertainers, artists, filmstars, TV stars (Whew!!! Its sad that I have to mention them), sportspersons, etc.
Thirdly, Artgallus Ontidate - the most cambric, capricious congregation of chameleons, whose art and social skills are nothing inferior in rank to Himalayas, but whose yardstick of being happening is to be seen around these places. They are 'have beens' and need the publicity for their own betterment. Being in the locus of theirs is very interesting - whether its the lap or the loquacious skills.
Finally, Sephia Hircus - the beautiful strangers, goats, usually on invitation or hired by the desperate host to make tongues wag. They are the wannabes who color the party brown, green, red and all the other colors. Cocktail hogging, pelvis displaying, nonsense mongering - are the primary job of these downtrodden species. Pull a string and all of these fall like nine pins. A very nice company for a nice evening, these are the people whose faces are embossed alongside the Ritchie Riches in the newspapers. (The author fancies their company but is not sure of the long lasting effects)
Great to know you all but how does my life change in anyway, if I get to know you? My friends have been very vocal about how life is changing? or does the new starlet needs to work on her couture? or Do mothers add the right pinch of salt in the midday meal? We are never featured. We are never shown the shortcut to limelight. I guess that it could be this jealousy making me write, but I am sure that the Elite have nothing better than us to talk about. Only, you do that at a much fancier place while we waste our time in a dingy place which reminds people of Cockney urchin infested places. We do it over coffee and croissants while you do it over caviar and cocktails. Everything claimed and said, I stoop down to urge you to stop this mothering of the society while worrying whether the olive is wet or not in your dry martini. May be I will join you soon or may be I dont give a damn.
Closing Comments
===========
Pervert, Arrogant, Gargantuan, Engrossed 3...... Thats what you are
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
You too Brutus !!!!
Its funny the way Indian politics and policies are shaping. False knights mounted on neighing horses trample the aspirations of a stereotypical voter to quench their lust for power. Now, the knights are not dressed in quintal of steel but in khadi, for not-knowers - its a material made popular by a puny little gentleman who wore a metre of cloth to inspire a nation of morons to be independent. I shall touch two distinctly related aspects in this post; which may not be directly related to you but could as well screw your life.
Firstly, the nuclear deal issue. My-o-my, the whole eposide can inspire a million pseudo-political soaps on the telly tube. The red-shirts who normally do not have a point in life, voraciously opposed the deal. The green shits - I did not miss the 'r' here - who are the rulers of the country, do not understand what consensus means. They went ahead with the deal as if they are bargaining a rich, 6 foot 2 inch, good looking, Harvard graduate for their limp daughter. I do agree that the nuke deal will solve the long standing problem of power in the country but the diplomats always forget to read the fine print. Its like signing a pact with the devil here. And that devil, United in all his States, is pretty good at getting things done his way. As if the works are not complete with this travesty, the greens vowed the reds with some under-the-table help. Now, the reds are humming the same tune as the greens. We only need the 'Men in Blue' to complete the primary set of colors or unnecessarily rich stupids.
Moving down south and where the tables are turned for a lucky CM of a blessed state - I don't know what the state is blessed with though. This guy comes to power in a total shocking fashion, refusing dad's side and aligning to a party which was almost non-existant in the state. Power sharing, seat sharing, bribe sharing, bathroom sharing happen consequentially. Brothers in arms and friends in shoulders are witnessed. But, as time passed, this guy sees the bell to heaven dangling by his dad's antiquities. He vows not to share the seat to the other party. The other party, the saffrons, the whole brigade, if they had one in the state, pulled him back into his kitchen by opening the Pandora's box.
Verdict - Hung assembly and hung like racoons (I could not muster the word 'horses' for these pinheads). Who is worried about the loss of public time and money? May be not even the public itself !!
Cobblestones, paved by parties of dubious interests, are which comprise the fabric of politics in this country. Each of them unturned reveal infinite ugliness but collectively put forth floral avenues for the interested parties. These avenues lead to gains of unjust for them and curdle hell for the rest. One day,a seething rain of righteousness, will wipe this dingy pathway - begetting the dawn of justice. Till then I shall sleep wrapped in my warm blanket of anonymity and .................................... KEEP CRIBBING.
Firstly, the nuclear deal issue. My-o-my, the whole eposide can inspire a million pseudo-political soaps on the telly tube. The red-shirts who normally do not have a point in life, voraciously opposed the deal. The green shits - I did not miss the 'r' here - who are the rulers of the country, do not understand what consensus means. They went ahead with the deal as if they are bargaining a rich, 6 foot 2 inch, good looking, Harvard graduate for their limp daughter. I do agree that the nuke deal will solve the long standing problem of power in the country but the diplomats always forget to read the fine print. Its like signing a pact with the devil here. And that devil, United in all his States, is pretty good at getting things done his way. As if the works are not complete with this travesty, the greens vowed the reds with some under-the-table help. Now, the reds are humming the same tune as the greens. We only need the 'Men in Blue' to complete the primary set of colors or unnecessarily rich stupids.
Moving down south and where the tables are turned for a lucky CM of a blessed state - I don't know what the state is blessed with though. This guy comes to power in a total shocking fashion, refusing dad's side and aligning to a party which was almost non-existant in the state. Power sharing, seat sharing, bribe sharing, bathroom sharing happen consequentially. Brothers in arms and friends in shoulders are witnessed. But, as time passed, this guy sees the bell to heaven dangling by his dad's antiquities. He vows not to share the seat to the other party. The other party, the saffrons, the whole brigade, if they had one in the state, pulled him back into his kitchen by opening the Pandora's box.
Verdict - Hung assembly and hung like racoons (I could not muster the word 'horses' for these pinheads). Who is worried about the loss of public time and money? May be not even the public itself !!
Cobblestones, paved by parties of dubious interests, are which comprise the fabric of politics in this country. Each of them unturned reveal infinite ugliness but collectively put forth floral avenues for the interested parties. These avenues lead to gains of unjust for them and curdle hell for the rest. One day,a seething rain of righteousness, will wipe this dingy pathway - begetting the dawn of justice. Till then I shall sleep wrapped in my warm blanket of anonymity and .................................... KEEP CRIBBING.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Anthology to a cuss - A sonnet, a quatrain and manners of morons
Sonnet Bayonnette
=============
Cruel it seems, as I lay in a twisted bridled knot
Ardurous and flaming is the mood of my mane
And deep, I seep into the chambers of focussed thought
Furrowing down the dirty narrow streets of insane
Victims of plethora and forbearers of unquarantined disease
The populace of the world, a many, eke out a shrill moan
For they fall short, stealthily bargain a devil's premise
Then can they dare dream grieve for grievances forgone
But the child in thy buds with grace and sheer delight
Light there is, at the end of pathways of frightened poles
The tide of hope ebbs through hearts in life's twilight
Generous masters of faith semble what charity doles
All rise, all rise for the dawn of new world approaches
Apocalypse is time sharks are seperated from roaches
Quatrain of sorts
===========
As I convulse in gripping joy of ripping flippants
Being the t(T)udor of England you are not spared for
Cobblestones of thy joy ploy sly opponent's derision
Dwindling chances of victimising wisdom vaporize in thin air
Welcome Gate to Morons
===============
Its the mere hate I rejoice having, or for your averageness, that makes me write on the manners you morons excel in flaunting. The sonnet and the four lines do not mean anything to you but I wisely have used them because it escapes your crass minds. Phelgmatic are your views because you cannot face action and stand by the storm. Squabbling souls of yours make up the sum total of all choas in the universe. You are the prefects of all confused places of the world.
Firstly, you are not a distinct individual - not that you don't take over the reins of some hapless pygmies. You are residing parasitically in every creation called, lovingly, as humans. You tamper, finger, screw with the base ethics of an evolving mind and make it mediocre. You mother the mothers of mothers who make mothers for the wannabe mothers. You are a disease called paralytic somnambulism which divulges nothing but morphs the character to restrained ethos.
Hey human, breathe easy. For you do having some saving grace. You can evolve and rise from the ashes......
Thoughts of the writer are personal and to be taken as his view of things
=============
Cruel it seems, as I lay in a twisted bridled knot
Ardurous and flaming is the mood of my mane
And deep, I seep into the chambers of focussed thought
Furrowing down the dirty narrow streets of insane
Victims of plethora and forbearers of unquarantined disease
The populace of the world, a many, eke out a shrill moan
For they fall short, stealthily bargain a devil's premise
Then can they dare dream grieve for grievances forgone
But the child in thy buds with grace and sheer delight
Light there is, at the end of pathways of frightened poles
The tide of hope ebbs through hearts in life's twilight
Generous masters of faith semble what charity doles
All rise, all rise for the dawn of new world approaches
Apocalypse is time sharks are seperated from roaches
Quatrain of sorts
===========
As I convulse in gripping joy of ripping flippants
Being the t(T)udor of England you are not spared for
Cobblestones of thy joy ploy sly opponent's derision
Dwindling chances of victimising wisdom vaporize in thin air
Welcome Gate to Morons
===============
Its the mere hate I rejoice having, or for your averageness, that makes me write on the manners you morons excel in flaunting. The sonnet and the four lines do not mean anything to you but I wisely have used them because it escapes your crass minds. Phelgmatic are your views because you cannot face action and stand by the storm. Squabbling souls of yours make up the sum total of all choas in the universe. You are the prefects of all confused places of the world.
Firstly, you are not a distinct individual - not that you don't take over the reins of some hapless pygmies. You are residing parasitically in every creation called, lovingly, as humans. You tamper, finger, screw with the base ethics of an evolving mind and make it mediocre. You mother the mothers of mothers who make mothers for the wannabe mothers. You are a disease called paralytic somnambulism which divulges nothing but morphs the character to restrained ethos.
Hey human, breathe easy. For you do having some saving grace. You can evolve and rise from the ashes......
Thoughts of the writer are personal and to be taken as his view of things
Friday, August 3, 2007
Sow cheap, so cheap....... Seeds of real estate b(l)oom
A picturesque Village of flowing streams, lazy duck ponds with happy fishes swimming, untended snake-like virgin roads and the usual hoop-laa of activity... So far so good...
But bam, the scene is dejectedly effaced. So much of destruction, motors ripping the bosom of the village apart and mood of hustle bustle changes from green to greens of people's greed. I am not talking of apocalypse, for it would be shamed like a three year old discovering what shame is when his nappies fall down displaying his teenie-weenie, his fuck thingy in full frontal. Thats called development, dear - due compliments, the real estate boom. I am not against development or nor am I a self-professed communist but this agony is ripping me and my purse?
Greedy hawks, fancying themselves as the harbingers of glass-case cities, 700 lane roads and concrete jungles, are the new angels of doom and not boom. A tiny shit piece of land, colored by loose-bowelled yesteryears makes you count. Course of action for success - I take Tom out, rob Harry, stab Paul but am I really feeding Jim? OK, let me Indianize it for ethnic touch- I take Trilokchand out, rob Harikishan, stab Padmanabh but am I really feeding Jaishankar? Nah.... In fact, I, the Greedy hawk, am feeding and fending myself while fingering all the others. I get richer, I get popular while the costs escalate around me and land, the sojourn, Almighty has created for us in the eternal travel of the soul is at the behest of nobody but me.
Importantly, look at my favorite rabbits a.k.a clients - the baggy pant toting, cranberry colada sipping not-required Indians (NRIs for short); the elite Eye-Tea (eyesore IT) guys - Author's Comment : Will get to you in the near future mafakkars; the néowe rich who just made it to the top of the ladder by stamping their bulging egos on lesser mortals. But do you have the means? Are you the used car salesmen from Texas who found the accidental oil-well? Hmmm..... None of you three fetal shits fill the slots for my actual clients - though you rabbits are the 10 % business ensuring 100% margins. Me, the hawk, will create a feel that you are a lesser macho if you miss the boom. Honey, the money is not green but black. Even the golfing greens are powered by black.
Morale - Amoral
=========
Get realistic. You don't need that extra house, a galaxy away from the place of current comfort. You don't need to jack up the prices and your egos to make you feel like a man (Women included as well - pussies). I know that you cannot climb Everest. But, buying a million dollar house is answering your insatiable spirit. Live easy and let live. Hold on... Live free or Die Hard (loved the title of the movie and the movie as well)
But bam, the scene is dejectedly effaced. So much of destruction, motors ripping the bosom of the village apart and mood of hustle bustle changes from green to greens of people's greed. I am not talking of apocalypse, for it would be shamed like a three year old discovering what shame is when his nappies fall down displaying his teenie-weenie, his fuck thingy in full frontal. Thats called development, dear - due compliments, the real estate boom. I am not against development or nor am I a self-professed communist but this agony is ripping me and my purse?
Greedy hawks, fancying themselves as the harbingers of glass-case cities, 700 lane roads and concrete jungles, are the new angels of doom and not boom. A tiny shit piece of land, colored by loose-bowelled yesteryears makes you count. Course of action for success - I take Tom out, rob Harry, stab Paul but am I really feeding Jim? OK, let me Indianize it for ethnic touch- I take Trilokchand out, rob Harikishan, stab Padmanabh but am I really feeding Jaishankar? Nah.... In fact, I, the Greedy hawk, am feeding and fending myself while fingering all the others. I get richer, I get popular while the costs escalate around me and land, the sojourn, Almighty has created for us in the eternal travel of the soul is at the behest of nobody but me.
Importantly, look at my favorite rabbits a.k.a clients - the baggy pant toting, cranberry colada sipping not-required Indians (NRIs for short); the elite Eye-Tea (eyesore IT) guys - Author's Comment : Will get to you in the near future mafakkars; the néowe rich who just made it to the top of the ladder by stamping their bulging egos on lesser mortals. But do you have the means? Are you the used car salesmen from Texas who found the accidental oil-well? Hmmm..... None of you three fetal shits fill the slots for my actual clients - though you rabbits are the 10 % business ensuring 100% margins. Me, the hawk, will create a feel that you are a lesser macho if you miss the boom. Honey, the money is not green but black. Even the golfing greens are powered by black.
Morale - Amoral
=========
Get realistic. You don't need that extra house, a galaxy away from the place of current comfort. You don't need to jack up the prices and your egos to make you feel like a man (Women included as well - pussies). I know that you cannot climb Everest. But, buying a million dollar house is answering your insatiable spirit. Live easy and let live. Hold on... Live free or Die Hard (loved the title of the movie and the movie as well)
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
And the lid blows off......... Presidential Parody
Exposition
=======
Power, seemingly, lies not at the feet of a unary source but at the backyard of a power lobby led by a wily gardener. For, the floral oasis which springs out because of the powerful, benefits the collective lot . The reason rulers become thee is always clear like a lotus in a mud pond. The must-haves muscle out the should-haves. The vicars do a magical act to make the Protestants disappear. The deserveds are doomed and the puppies rule the roost.
A President of a unflapped nation needs to be elected in a responsible, moral fashion and not to prove that you are better than your depleted neighbor. Inject some sense into yourselves guys. Try, Ghengis Khan and his power struggle....
Opening and Act I
===========
16BC
The good shepherd, not the God we normally talk of but his son, takes care of the herd in a consequential manner sharing his daily words of wisdom with the sheep he tends to - not withstanding his limited intelligence. The poor little sheep, lovelorn and rarely straying from the line, make his life easier. This kind of mutual love is born out of necessity. Messaih ruled and rules because people are sheep and sheep are people.
Act II
====
1999~2000...The President of the world's most powerful democracy, the little spooky loser of a guy born out of a scheming yet a powerful father. Papa ensures that the President becomes a President by a razor thin margin of a chad...... Dad and Chad did rhyme this time.... There is some brotherly intevention as well. So, much for parental control, aint it? God, the big man up there, must be laughing his ass off seeing that the devil is winning. What else can he do?
Interlude
======
"Bye..... Bye, Ms. American pie........." What the fuck happened in 2000 years? Where are the sheep and who is the shepherd? Nothing in fact changed. The shepherd is now a snake charmer but the sheep still remain the sheep. Meek, confused, belittled.
Act III and Final
==========
2007.... Witness the curtains fall on one of the decent presidents of the world's largest democracy, a perverse aversion clouds sound judgement. Foxes, wolves, goons call the shots as to who will be the next lamb imbibing the mantle of being the first citizen of a remote controlled, rubber stamp nation. Morons elect a President while uncermoniously exiting the long haired one, wise he is as people proclaim. Happy are the feminists(do you have a point anytime?), spidery regional lords and asslickers (Oh!!! We have a party full of them) for they have delivered their roles in full spirit. All lessons learnt, all promises to be kept dissolve in the labyrinth - thanks to the insipid views of the slingers who throw earth at each other.
What remains??
==========
When the highest post in the country is up for grabs by disrespecting the whole fabric of decency, when a woman president makes it to the top because she is a woman and a madam likes her, when a good one is sent home without a question, when an ageing leader who in his senile years still yearns for the seat of comfort....... in fact nothing remains.
But I have stood up atleast. Thats not a bad beginning
=======
Power, seemingly, lies not at the feet of a unary source but at the backyard of a power lobby led by a wily gardener. For, the floral oasis which springs out because of the powerful, benefits the collective lot . The reason rulers become thee is always clear like a lotus in a mud pond. The must-haves muscle out the should-haves. The vicars do a magical act to make the Protestants disappear. The deserveds are doomed and the puppies rule the roost.
A President of a unflapped nation needs to be elected in a responsible, moral fashion and not to prove that you are better than your depleted neighbor. Inject some sense into yourselves guys. Try, Ghengis Khan and his power struggle....
Opening and Act I
===========
16BC
The good shepherd, not the God we normally talk of but his son, takes care of the herd in a consequential manner sharing his daily words of wisdom with the sheep he tends to - not withstanding his limited intelligence. The poor little sheep, lovelorn and rarely straying from the line, make his life easier. This kind of mutual love is born out of necessity. Messaih ruled and rules because people are sheep and sheep are people.
Act II
====
1999~2000...The President of the world's most powerful democracy, the little spooky loser of a guy born out of a scheming yet a powerful father. Papa ensures that the President becomes a President by a razor thin margin of a chad...... Dad and Chad did rhyme this time.... There is some brotherly intevention as well. So, much for parental control, aint it? God, the big man up there, must be laughing his ass off seeing that the devil is winning. What else can he do?
Interlude
======
"Bye..... Bye, Ms. American pie........." What the fuck happened in 2000 years? Where are the sheep and who is the shepherd? Nothing in fact changed. The shepherd is now a snake charmer but the sheep still remain the sheep. Meek, confused, belittled.
Act III and Final
==========
2007.... Witness the curtains fall on one of the decent presidents of the world's largest democracy, a perverse aversion clouds sound judgement. Foxes, wolves, goons call the shots as to who will be the next lamb imbibing the mantle of being the first citizen of a remote controlled, rubber stamp nation. Morons elect a President while uncermoniously exiting the long haired one, wise he is as people proclaim. Happy are the feminists(do you have a point anytime?), spidery regional lords and asslickers (Oh!!! We have a party full of them) for they have delivered their roles in full spirit. All lessons learnt, all promises to be kept dissolve in the labyrinth - thanks to the insipid views of the slingers who throw earth at each other.
What remains??
==========
When the highest post in the country is up for grabs by disrespecting the whole fabric of decency, when a woman president makes it to the top because she is a woman and a madam likes her, when a good one is sent home without a question, when an ageing leader who in his senile years still yearns for the seat of comfort....... in fact nothing remains.
But I have stood up atleast. Thats not a bad beginning
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Seven Wonders of the World - Eulogy to a number
I wonder a lot about the new wonders of the world - not the mere number but the hype surrounding them. Why the fuck do we need a modest seven? Are the most beautiful things in the world numbered and rated? How can you compare beauty of the flowing stream with the eternal sunshine? Libran attitudes do not apply everywhere. Look at the following list :
The Great Wall, China
Petra, Jordan
Christ Redeemer, Brazil
Machu Picchu, Peru
Chichen Itza, Mexico
The Roman Colosseum, Italy
The Taj Mahal, India
Amazing Structures brought to us by amazing engineering skills, is what I see. No questions asked. Cheers!!! Horrah!!! But who decides which one should figure in the list - the two cent pea-brained people whose primary job of purposeful existance is fidgeting around with their computers and cell phones to press that red button which makes their life calmer because the neighbourhood heritage site is listed? And the unmalleable parody - date selected to list out the elite seven - 07-07-07. Gives me a total recall of the story of the 5 blind men (I am not too sure of the number, but I dont care) and the elephant - Each part of the elephant, a fancy thing I purport in my blind fucking mind. Get the big picture, you blind idiots.
Years thickened with learning that the seven wonders start with Pyramids of Egypt.Oh, its an ancient wonder now and eeks, Sorry!!!! I am not interested.... Oh I am sorry duddheads, beauty ceases to be auty after a while. Is this what you mean?
The Great Wall, China
Petra, Jordan
Christ Redeemer, Brazil
Machu Picchu, Peru
Chichen Itza, Mexico
The Roman Colosseum, Italy
The Taj Mahal, India
Amazing Structures brought to us by amazing engineering skills, is what I see. No questions asked. Cheers!!! Horrah!!! But who decides which one should figure in the list - the two cent pea-brained people whose primary job of purposeful existance is fidgeting around with their computers and cell phones to press that red button which makes their life calmer because the neighbourhood heritage site is listed? And the unmalleable parody - date selected to list out the elite seven - 07-07-07. Gives me a total recall of the story of the 5 blind men (I am not too sure of the number, but I dont care) and the elephant - Each part of the elephant, a fancy thing I purport in my blind fucking mind. Get the big picture, you blind idiots.
Years thickened with learning that the seven wonders start with Pyramids of Egypt.Oh, its an ancient wonder now and eeks, Sorry!!!! I am not interested.... Oh I am sorry duddheads, beauty ceases to be auty after a while. Is this what you mean?
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