He was bored to the bone

Never picked up his phone

Said he would talk to nobody

Plug out the speakers of your party

He was bored to the bone

Lazy hours went by too soon

Got up and on a long holiday

Big Daddy’s credit card could pay

There was silence in the crowds

His ears bursting inside out

New language hit the town

The world got upside down

He’s a wasted, lazy log

He ain’t got no paying job

Mama’s searching a rich doll

Happy to marry her slob

He was bored to the bone

Did nothing but whine and groan

Youth is wasted on the young

A case of philosophers’ syndrome


beauty of the beast

   There are no fangs, no claws. No horns, not a specter to be seen. Its called devil but who knows, its a beast within. It needs not the night, not in the shadows of apparitions does it crawl. Its whisper, soft as a swish of the sea. Its tread graceful and delicate, with the neck stiff and head high, held by the bones of pride and despise for what lies beneath. With the magic and trickery, it corrupts the soul and it exploits the piety. Fidelity it does not know and sincerity was never its host. Its justice is cruelty. Its command, brutality. Its art is greed. Deception, its trade. From the wine prohibited to the songs of rebellion, its the devil to be blamed. Devil and the children of devil, loathed by all, loved by none.

   I have not drunk the water of madness. I do not sing the songs of truth. I do not dance with my eyes open and still I see it. Its not the devil that i see in the mirror of reflection. Its the beast within. No words are worth the praise deserved by its beauty. Its wits when befriend the curiosity, leads me to forbidden fruits. I have come to respect it for its determination and dedication to the task its been given.

    The angels did not understand me but it was this who became my enemy. Its hatred for me has made me love it. It showed me my anger, my ego, my desires, my weaknesses. Its not lazy, it does not slack. Trapped me in its web and left for me no way but to bow and ask for help. The more it wounded my soul, the more became my thirst for pure. I question no more, why it was created, for i see it now. Its a beautiful creature. Perhaps the most, after the creator Himself.

   With the intensity of the nature of its existence, it makes me understand His love for me. No matter how many times I’m tested, I shall eat the forbidden fruit. Because, unless I do that, I shall not know why its forbidden. And if I do not realize why its forbidden, I shall never know the love of one Who warned me for my good. But He knew that I must eat it, and so created the devil. In the mirrors of reflection, I did not just see myself, I saw a beast within, the one whom I shall never kill.


you name it…..

     More than once, it has happened to me, that some thing happens and I just know that it has happened before. But, I can’t tell when, and under what circumstances exactly. Such a thing is known commonly as ‘deja vu’, which in French means ‘already seen’.

  I remember reading a novel once in which the hero experiences just the same thing and he goes to a saint. The saint tells him about the mirror universe and things about meta-physical world, which was frankly beyond my comprehension. But, the idea was that deja vu happens when your soul communicates with another you living in the mirror universe. The whole idea was much like a fantasy. I also do confess it, rather shamelessly, that I have fancied myself as someone like Keanu Reeves from ‘the matrix’ at that time.

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It was indeed a pleasure to think that I have access to something that mostly people don’t and I had every reason to believe in it. I have always been a sensitive, caring and a compassionate person (now, don’t laugh, because I also don’t lie), so the heavens must have bestowed me with this gift. Fair enough!

   I could have happily spent more years thinking that I am gifted but just a few days back, I happened to read a conversation thread on a social site, where the same topic was under discussion. At the end of the day I found out that deja vu is nothing more than a memory trick. It happens when there is overlapping of a short term memory with the long term memory for a brief time. Cherry on the cake is,  psychologists take it as a mental illness.

  My grief and pain is not to be put in words for my inner Keanu Reeves has died, the ‘gift’ turned out to be a symptom of a mental illness, the saint and the hero of that novel both were psycho maniacs, and now I shall be reading ‘veronika decides to die’.


Funny little things

  For the  past few days, I’ve been feeling a bit low. Not that anything in particular had happened but just been a bit more cranky and sullen than usual. Even bigger tragedy is my inability to cry and wail in front of anyone. Those who care for me are likely to get repulsed or so I think, and others simply don’t care. 

  Just as I was on my way to hostel from library today, on a signal the bus stopped and in a car nearby, I saw three kids. There was nothing remarkable about those chubby little things and also they seemed too much talkative. Another random look at them and they were making some in-comprehensible signs to me and mouthing words in a comic fashion. I was just too much confused if I should be offended or amused when the signal turned green. We were taking different routes. So now when I looked at those kids, they were waving at me. I just cared to wave back and they started waving even more vibrantly. Funny little people, I thought and noticed, I was smiling. I had always known that happiness comes from little things in life. You just have to look for it. But, I had truly appreciated the fact today.

  How possibly could I ever be so thankless for such tender moments. Tender and innocent. Its all about our own perception. We may not have a choice given many things in our life, but the quality of it and also of those around us, we can definitely improve.

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I’m poor….

   It’s Sunday morning. Finally, it’s Sunday morning. Although, I get real bad Monday-morning-fevers, but this is not what I want to think about right now. All I know is -it’s Sunday morning.

  As I open my eyes, I gather it must be 8 or 9 am. Without getting up, I think about all the things that I have put off for this day, so yes, I have things to do. A lot of things to do. But, they can wait. As I lay on my back, emptying my mind of all thoughts that can possibly penetrate and filling it with absolutely nothing, I stare at the ceiling. From the window, I see a tree. Leaves, with one side green and the other side yellow. As I’m still lying on my back, I focus on my breathing. There it is. One breath in, and then out. Another breath in and there. it goes out as well.

  In that moment, there is no beauty, no philosophy, no poetry but, tranquility. Tranquility, that only lazy people afford. Laziness, that only the rich afford. Rich, who is content. Rich, who does not fancy that he needs anything more than he actually needs. I’m poor.


don’t tell anybody….


Many a times I have put in the internet search engines ‘history of gossips’. Every time I ended up unsatisfied. All I know is, that almost everyone has at least once gossiped about some one and also been subjected to it.

      I too, have been subjected to it many times, especially after coming to college. For an instance, one of the female demonstrators has a striking resemblance with me and so last year a girl came to me saying, ‘ hey, you are XYZ’s niece, right?’ My innocent reply was, ‘Really? Oh my, I never knew that’. Even then, the word of mouth traveled with the lightning speed and  for the past whole year people have been ‘telling’ me that I’m related to her.

      About twice, I have very warmly congratulated people on getting engaged just to find out, it was nothing but some pathetic rumor (oh those embarrassing moments. Felt like an idiot, then).

      There is exclusively too much of gossiping about the break-ups and and heaven-made-sweet-couples (which do break-up really soon). Social medias like face-book are efficiently accelerating the whole process of gossip-travel, as if, canteens, back benches of lecture theaters and yes ‘hostel’ was not doing the job much already.

      But, I have learned one thing about myself. I’m gender biased. I never thought I could be, but after seeing a boy (of 20 years- almost a man) gossiping, I felt like throwing-up at him. Now, don’t blame me. But what is this world coming to? Where has the manliness hid itself? Nevertheless, a boy gossiping is simply horrible. Disgusting.


    A very sage person once told the world the best way to spread a rumor, tell a woman and ask her ‘do not tell any body’. Having done this, just wait and see the magic. It works. It really does.

     I might be wrong about this but people who get into gossiping and spreading rumors are mostly tired and bored of their own lives. They look for an escape as their energies are more than their positive utilization and so they need help. At this point, I must confess that I too have taken part in such activities but I’m too ashamed to tell when and about whom did I talk. But, since I consciously avoid being part of this, I assume I’m not a gossip girl after all (feels like an angel ^-^)

     Even if I’m right about my theory, that gossiping people need to get a life, please do not think that I wish to ban this practice because, if people did not gossip and rumors did not spread then how ever was I to know that those who should-not-be-named did what should-not-be-told. But,

ssshhhhh! DO NOT TELL ANY BODY, eh?


* images are not owned by the author.