in vacant or in pensive mood

I am baffled and confused as to what binds us all human beings together. What's that connecting factor in friendship? What is it that makes me like one's company or them mine? Is friendship all about finding that common denominator and not letting it go? MUSIC Some say that music is a common factor among many unknown faces across the corners of this flat world. But again, it's extremely hard to pin point at the theory and one both agree and disagree. MUSIC is infinite. The many genres present are like small representations of the universal self that it is. So, when I say that Music is a binding factor, I'd believe it is in the bigger scheme of things but unfortunately, this concept is not how it is heard, even though it may be the very idea in which it is played. Some detest Hip Hop, others break dance away to the beats. Some sleep away like a baby in Indian classical concerts sometimes spanning hours and others follow every note played and close their eyes just to FEE

There are many ways to do it: Looking down, looking up Looking side, doing with pride. Spraying, struggling, squeezing, waiting, shaking, dripping. The ones who go to the side, The ones who go to the center The minute long, the 2 second long. With one hand, with two hands, With hand on the side, without hands. Sitting, standing, swaying, talking Reading, typing but not while coughing Peaceful, relaxed, enjoying, sighing Thinking, pondering, but answer not coming. With friends, alone With a book on a phone After food, before In office, on a shore. Aiming that ball, handling a call Or silently, avoiding them all. A thousand ways, Paid or free Within days Million styles to pee.

After much thought, I forced myself yet again to write. A big fan of all kinds of music (I know its blasphemous to say this, considering I may not have heard all kinds of music but yeah.. try me), I couldn't help notice the lack of good music in India. I am not completely against Bollywood or "Filmy Music". Seriously, if you thought A.R Rehman is awesome in Rockstar, suck at this... go listen to some of his older compositions in some Tamil movies. They are way better and more melodious. Better harmony, more music and sweeter voices. In fact, there are so many other Tamil music directors who I feel are equally talented. Harris Jayaraj, Illairaja (for those who have a ear for music would see through the choice) and many others. It's not that Bollywood doesn't have such people. Vishal-Shekhar, HR, Salim-Suleiman... what duos do in Bollywood, individuals achieve in the tamil movies!!!! But that's beside the point. Where have all the "artists" gone. Did N

Does it ever happen that one day you read so much that you reach the limits of your information intake and the overload button in your mind keeps flickering.? And the only thing you could do is to switch of your mind and go off to sleep or plunge into some great music and forget the world around you. Rather than taking any more information, and making those grey cells work any further, just shut the system down and put on some creative/sleeping hat and doze off.

Advertising has sharpened my vision, but hasn't reduced the power of the glasses I wear. What it has increased is my ability to stand back and take notice of the environment and observe. In the past few weeks, certain observations of the my habits and that of others has found it's way to my attention: The Favourite Spot : Don't know if this is just me or with others too but I always have my favourite pee spot in the men's urinal in my office. I notice a lot others too, and see them at the same spot several times. I, for one, love the extremes. At least one side is well hidden. Others seem to prefer the centre. Now I haven't studied this intensely enough to derive things but probably someone could help me conclude the interconnection between one's emotional identity vis-a-vis the persons choice of spot. I am an introvert and probably hence, choose the extreme one which has a wall on either side of me. Those who are extrovert and love to be surrounded my people mi

Rain.. It's been raining incessantly for a couple of days now and even though the road outside in non-venturable, I love it. Whether it's the thunderous clasps of lightnings, the sudden chill, or the windy gales that make the rain fall almost horizontal and gives one sleepless nights due the the shivering windows, or even the drenched roads that now seem to have a whole new identity - all washed and gulping in the water. For almost 18 years of my life, I have had a memorable affair with rain. Back in Pondicherry, when the monsoons would come by during November, I was forever there to welcome her. And while we rehearsed our drills, getting drenched to the bones and teeth chattering our way to conversations with my friends, she never made me hate her. Even though my dress would get dirty beyond any detergent to wash, or the roads too flooded to walk, let alone cycle, or even the beach road too windy to walk on, I loved her. Getting wet in the rain, I realized later on, was a joy

I fell on to the ground with a droning sound reverberating in my left ear. I was slowly losing sight of my surrounding. I was breathing hard and fast and could feel my breathing on my stomach, but slowly, even that began to fade away. And then... silence. I awoke with the noise of the small crowd gradually getting louder and louder and nearer and nearer. My eyes were open and were having difficulty adjusting to the bright light. I could feel my breathing again but this time - slow and controlled and now, my chest was heaving rather than my stomach. I was sweating profusely and the sudden lack of action was generating immense heat within me and I could feel it on my feet and hands. I felt like an ember emanating heat all over. I could feel the warm floor below me, even though it was wet. I also began to feel the heat below my, on my back, even though I was sweating and my banyan drenched. I moved my arms closer to my hips, folded them to help myself up but somehow, all I could do was th

Seriously, I don't care shit if Osama is dead or not. Frankly, I have lost all trust in such largely global crisis. I have several reasons to feel so. 1. VICIOUS CIRCLE - US aides Pakistan, which aides Al-Qaida, so basically, instead of directly selling Osama the arms, they were routing it through Pakistan who anyway can't raise their voice against the US. 2. STRANGE NEWS - Within two days of his death, news from within the US political camp seem different about whether Mr Osama was armed or not, and whether his wife is dead or injured. I mean, what the hell was the President watching LIVE and biting his jaws on? Are you kidding me? They see something live, yet don't know WHAT to report? The first report stated he was shot twice, once in the head and the other in the chest (just in case the bastard was still alive!?!), and now, the report states 3. SEA BURIAL - Who the hell gives a sea burial and WHY? Because no nation would want to do his burial. Fools could have used it a

Nature’s beauty is everywhere In you and in me In the mighty polar bear Or the face of a monkey But these treasures for the eyes Are hidden in darkness For him who love denies And is left to loneliness.

I’ve lived now but twenty years And am wallowing in miseries I’ve washed all my sorrows in tears, But am drowning in agonies. The hopes that were left are now flying in the air And are falling into the fields of ignorance, My heart grows cold as it no more can bear My love’s inconstant glance. Like a sponge squeezed off water dry My happiness is drained from me Looking at the past I can but cry To see me like a naked tree. Life has offered me nothing but pain And death comes creeping by – My cheeks grow cold – my mind insane, She was gone…. In the wink of an eye.

A blazing sun which poured its heat across The wide expanse of land that thirst for rain; Dead bodies piled up with moans of loss And streams of blood still flowed amidst the plain. A soldier jaded by the wars collapsed And gazing at the sky he shed a tear That screamed in silent shouts; his body lapsed: The life in him began to disappear – The tear that rested by his cheek did start A fire fashioned by the sun which charred The half-unconscious soldier’s corpse and heart And deep in ashes left his glory marred. As time passed by, the bodies burnt, you drank Their souls and left the plain, silent and blank.

I woke up startled, mine eyes sparkled A vicious dream had I My house was shattered, my heart was battered A thunder had struck near by. I was left with my bed, like my hand had said The prophet was right yet again, The sky grew dark, I got the mark: — My sorrow was being washed in rain. A lighting flashed by; my God said ”Hi! My child you tread on my land.” I looked all around me, felt as light as can be — Holding a harp in my left hand! Now I’m in heaven, above the worlds all seven I wanted to wander on Earth, My will was fulfilled, but a problem still — As an ant I had taken birth.

I stared at the clock. I watched its every minute and every second. I stared at it until all the noises around me were suddenly put on mute and the only deafening noise was that of the seconds ticking its way into the future. The doctor had told me to wait till 9 pm. It was 7:30 pm and every second was driving me crazy is some very strange way. I could feel my heart beating and realized that it was marching with the beats of the clock’s seconds. I took deep breaths. Paused. Let it all out. Paused. Began to feel my pulse again. No difference. I continued to stare at the clock. I don’t know what I was thinking or whether I was thinking at all. My eyes were glued to the clock. My senses were glued to the clock. My life was glued to the clock. A mosquito suddenly buzzed by and made me shrug my shoulders and blink. When I opened my eyes, like metal to magnet, they went straight to the clock. The second seemed to take a step back before proceeding its untiring rhythmic march into the future.

She tried to laugh, she tried to smile She found it hard to say, That it’ll be just a little while, That she with me could stay. She held my hand, shed a tear As her heart spoke to mine. She closed her eyes and pulled me near To say that she was fine I gazed into her lovely face And kissed her watery eyes, I took her into my embrace But she had left to the heavenly skies. Death came and snatched her loving soul And left; loneliness haunting me But though from me, her life he took She’s immortal in my memory

When the moon became the guiding light To the bright sunflower The sun awoke only at midnight And sugar tasted sour. When the clocks ticked the other way round The sea was tasting sweet, In silence one heard the echoing sound Of the drummer’s beat. When to go up one had to first come down And speech came before thought The kings became the hilarious clown And cold now meant hot This is the world we would live in: Without any month or season; The gods with the devils would drink a gin If love were to date young reason.

Pine trees bowed to some ephemeral breeze Magpies chirped just overhead, Nuances of green scattered amidst the distant trees, And my heart to capture beauty fled. He smelled her perfume everywhere, Followed her love song’s sweet echoes; He felt her presence in the air, And thought he saw her kiss a rose. He searched, he groped, he called her name And in silence she replied: “Go back my love whence you came, I was sleeping by your side.” He found her lying on the ground And his happiness he couldn’t bear When the profoundest secret he had found, That she’s in him, and therefore, everywhere.