He walked the streets, feeling at home...at last. The moon slowly slid out from behind the dark clouds and cast streaks of light on his battered face. Bags under his heavy eyes, a scar down his cheek and a very prominent vein throbbing in his fore-head, he looked ahead. His weary eyes have a glad gleam. For perhaps the first time in ages, he feels safe. The ravines of the past show in his movement as he shuffled through the street, protecting his exposed skin from the harsh winter wind. He was literally dragging his feet, tired, in a painfully obvious way.

As he shuffled down the street, he passed a rolled up mass of wool and cotton, dirty and stinking, basking in the heat from an almost non-existent flame. The local begger eyed him with pure suspicion and spite. It could have only be the dress he was wearing, drapes hanging from every inch possible, crumpled beyond recognition, that caused the begger to eye him with suspicion for a rival. But he is not flattered by another man's jealousy. He shuffled on. The dogs in the street, catching his scent from a mile away, look up from inside the dumpster and snarl at him as he passes. They sure took him for their a scavenger after their dump. He lauged at the dogs and said "I got better stuff...U guyz eat". He kept shuffling down the streets.

He paused at a coffee shop on the way. He called for a coffee and added the magic word "PLEASE". This immediately raised the shopkeeper's eyebrows. He suddenly demanded to be paid before he made the coffee. He smiled slightly and drew out a 10 rupee note from one of his many pockets and waited for his change while the shopkeeper checked every inch of the note for its validity. The coffee came in a steel glass and he gladly extended his gnarled palms to pick it up. The shopkeeper put the glass on a plate, not wanting to put his hands anywhere near him. The heat from the glass was not felt on his thick palms. He slowly rolled his fingers, painfully slowly, around the glass. It did not help him find the heat. He noticed that the cuts in his palms and fingers were not stinging anymore. It was an improvement. The back of his palm was almost filled with cuts and bruises. He sure has been toiling. He held the glass close to his chest, in an attempt to gather the heat, from the coffee, to his chest. It was not worth it. He preferred a hot coffee to a cold one. So he just started sipping at the glass. The heat of the watery coffee, instantly making him feel better.

He left the shop with the change from the transaction, jingling in his pockets as he shuffled on. He heaved a sigh of relief as he found the door he had been watching out for. He was tired, hungry and had not exposed himself socially in over 3 months now. He was worried he might not be so welcome. It was too early in the winter morning for anyone to be up. He was used to it by now, both the winter and not being welcome. He had stooped lower than this before for food and water, so, this was going to be cake walk. Just wake up a house of 3 and shove himself on them and watch them squirm in sheer loathing.

He rang the bell next to the safely locked door. There was no movement on the other side of the door. He waited out another 5 minutes, shifting his weight from one leg to another. Still no movement. He tried his luck at knocking the door. He gave up after 10 minutes of constant banging. Was he not wanted? He did not care. He set his aching body down on the steps and rested his throbbing head on the door. The handle came in his way and he shifted. He clutched his clothes closer, hoping to feel less colder than he was. His eyes started rolling up into their sockets. They were more tired than he was. He started slipping in and out of slumber. He kept touching his pockets to feel the money. A habit he had recently picked. Soon he was asleep on the steps.

Well, it was an hour later, at 5.30 in the morning, that he was awakened by a voice that carried thro the cold air. "Why cant he plan his trips earlier? Its 5.30 and still no sign of him. Why does he never think we might be worried?". Now he is worried he might be discovered. He picks himself up and tries the bell again. This time he is rewarded by the appearance of a middle aged balding man. A smile on his face. He is not perturbed by the dress r the stench. "How was your trip?", he asks. He just smiles and waits for his dad to open the door. Glad to be home, for the first time in 3 months since he started living alone, 500 kilometers away.



For once, I thought I would let people know what I am writing about, before hand, without them having to throw up of call me in consolation. The subject is simple, straight forward and completely common.

Fear is what drives man through his life. Because he is afraid to die, he lives. And when he is afraid to live, he dies.

Fear guides us to success. Because we are afraid to experiment, we stick to what we do the best. Whats the point in showing you are good at what you do best???

Fear instills in us, the two things that we all lack...FAITH and HOPE...There will be no temples if every one felt safe. Do we call these people religious??? I call them chickens.

Fear of fear itself is what causes some to instill fear in other for the mere pleasure of watching them wither. Terrorists are not all guts. They are all afraid of fear.

To me, fear is a motivator. Its more like a carrot to a donkey. I absolutely love fear for its immense control over me. I love calling myself the dare devil. I love fear for the adrenaline it pumps thro' my veins. Its fear that make me what I am. I ride a 185kg bike at nothing less than 50 on the streets just coz I am afraid to do it. I never studied for my exams coz I loved the fear it instilled in me. Simply, I love facing fear.

Facing fear is what makes you different. Decisions are difficult and challenging. Times are trying and tiring. But choosing the rough path makes success sweeter than it usually is. But most of all, it makes the easy path look worthless.

Fear has kept me alive. Not coz I am afraid to die. But more coz I am afraid I'd die without seeing the wonders of this world.

So for those who still wonder why I am so, please, I am no hero. I am just scared, and happy to be.



Well, this other night, I was thundering down my street to get home at the earliest. I had not eaten in ages and I was dying to sink my teeth into something hot and spicy. Trouble, it was 9.30 in the night. I was early from office today thanks to one of our vendors who agreed to meet me at the corner of my street. I was blessed to get out of office this early. It was just like any other day in Coimbatore. There was, however, one small change in the whole city. The city now had, to its pride, a proud owner of a brand new bullet tearing down its streets, kicking up at the gravel from the already worn out roads. If you cant place the lucky bugger, let me give you a clue....

Its ME....

But like any other normal night in coimbatore, the night was cold. The wind was stinging my skin. I had my eyes leaking from the chill in the air. There was a steady stream of tear running from the corner of my eyes all the way into the hair on the back of my hair. I was late for the meeting with my vendor. I had to drive from office. I did not mind the drive thanks to the beast I was riding. The bike was such a wonder that I did not realize I had taken twice the time I usually take to drive from work. No regrets.

Like I said, the air was cold. The wind was hard and my knuckles were white form the weather. I would not have felt any colder if I was naked. I finished my transaction with my vendor and turned to get home. Its difficult to notice anything when you are riding a bullet. But this just caught my attention so much.

There was a pink grilled landing jutting into the pavement from the front of one of the side shops. The pink grills held the cutest things I've noticed driving my BULLET. In the corner of the small landing, there were at least 15 of the cutest and smallest puppies I've ever laid my eyes on. They must have just opened their eyes coz they looked at me like the way I see things on a late Sunday morning. All but 2 of the pups had heaped themselves up into a pile, protecting themselves from the harsh chill in the strong winds. I stuck my hand into the heap and realized just how warm it was in there. It was a group huddle. A group of Scotties, Labs and Poms.

How can dogs, at this stage of their lives take to one another for their mutual benefit when, us, MEN, cant so much as put up with one another?

I am sorry that people cant hold each others hands even to relieve themselves from the cold.



It all starts with a brown ball ( or at least, almost a ball) of slightly elastic and adhesive material. Its a simile to ecstasy. 20 seconds into it and a suffocating quantity of highly corrosive and potentially pathogenic fluid starts to pour out of every available orifice. The fluid collects around the round material, slowly and painlessly etching away the outer surface of the material. The wall thickness of the material starts to get washed away by the microns. A very small quantity, but at a rate that can beat time. The fluid is drained every few seconds and is replenished by a fresh mixture of the same corrosive agent and same level of pathogens. The fluid is drained with a force. This is to ensure the fluid raises the small projections (buds) placed on the floor of the chamber. As the fluid raises the projections, some of the etched material is deposited on the walls of these buds. Again the material's wall thickness is reduced by the rejuvenated and fervent fluid. But the volume of the fluid is not enough to completely fill the chamber. This means that only one half of the material will be etched. Its now time to drain the fluid and flip the material over.

This causes the flow of a fresh batch of the fluid. The process continues for a while and finally, when there has been enough material removal and enough material deposition, and when the wall thickness of the material is almost non-existent, the dark, smooth and bitter paste oozes out. This new paste that emanates from within the material itself, has to be slowly sucked by creating a low pressure region at the inner depths of the facilities. The fluid, excited by the fresh oozing goo, helps initiate and hasten the flow of the thick paste. It helps by slowly dissolving the paste, making it a liquid and again raises the buds on the floor of the chamber.

The flow of the material and the material itself, govern the specificness of the buds that are raised. That is, certain materials raise certain buds while some other materials raise some other buds.

With this material, the buds at the front tip are raised and they pick up the dissolved material. The buds reach their highest peak when the goo oozes out and thats when you realize you have just a few more seconds before your chocolate completely melts in your mouth.

And this is how a jobless freak describes the way he eats his chocoliebe.



I am a distraught resident of the Coimbatore city. I am blessed with a room on the terrace, right in the heart of the city. Coimbatore, for those who are, were and almost, part of the city, is a city that is sleepy, just short of lazy. The lights of every kind imaginable go out by the time its 9.00 in the night. Everyone and everything comes to a stand still. Cops and the traffic lights are laid to rest beside the almighty law. The mosquitoes that keep you in the house during the evening, driving you to an inch from blood drought, just show no semblance of existence after 9. The city becomes still. Hotels no longer cook food and just put up with the customers they cant lock behind the shutters. The only signs of life is the swarm of people, pushing, trampling and nearly killing each other to get to a bottle of some form of alcohol outside the infamous "TASMAC' shops that are strategically placed near every police station to better the people.

Because my place of work is well out of the city limits, I generally work late into the night and this is the plight of the city when I get off the bus from work and walk towards the parking lot where I put my bike each day. Today was just a little out of the ordinary.

It was 9.45 in the night. I had not had any dinner as usual. I was walking towards my bike. Today was different because I had at least a dozen tube lights, glazing with fury to rival that of the sun, guiding me towards my destination. The median that divided the mettupalayam road was just beyond recognition from the staffs that were neatly driven into them to hold these lights. 9.45 in the night, the signals were working and I was made to wait for the green to cross the road. There was a police constable waving his magic wand at me cautioning me to stay where I was. I had to wait for a whole 45 seconds for the non-existent traffic to pass. I was patient. I got my bike and drove home bound, only to be held up at a further 5 signals(please, there are only 3 junctions from where I park to where I stay). I was patient. I was still driving when I saw that the number of side-road hoardings had increased from one every 3 feet to 3 every one foot. They all lead to a blocked road(again at 9.45 in the night). The cops were feverishly diverting the steady trickle of traffic. I made my way over to the cop ad was astounded by the wonder that lay ahead. The kalaiyarangam in R.S.Puram was being worked on by what can only be described as an army. The place was nothing less than breath taking. I was sure there were more lights n there than the Eiffel Tower, or even the whole city of Vegas. It was as if the place was burning. Lights dancing off every parked car, every inch of the fire truck that was parked there, every inch of the cats eye that were neatly laid, for the first lime on a clean road. Yeah!!! The roads had been almost washed.

I could no longer be patient. I went across to the cop waving the wand carelessly at me and enquired what theses changes and fuss was all about.

I was awestruck at the response and Ive come to greatly appreciate the nation and the state for its cause.

Amidst all this power in-adequacy, inflation, stock market roller caster rides, Indian Space Probes and all, we have made some time to clean the roads, collect lights form across the world to light up the cleaned roads, lay cats eyes on the cleaned roads to better show the path, channel the electricity from every earning citizen in the nation to light these lamps, for an 82 year OLD man to cross the streets of COIMBATORE.

Please Mr.Karunanidhi, come to our city more. I like to see it being clean, at least for you.


One More Off The List

I wanted to die, then, there. I missed my chance. The moment has passed.

It a Wednesday, 2 in the afternoon. My legs were shaking, cramping from the torture I had put them through. They were worn out from the weight they were made to bear. My shoulders were aching. I had my colleague massaging my back, while completely delirious in laughter. I had just completed my turn on the HARLEY ROAD KING that we use for testing.

This is perhaps one of the most thrilling moments of my life. I remember telling my mother I always wanted to die driving a Harley. I had my chance to drive it, I chose not to die.

I managed to get my feet over the seat and tugged at the handle bars with all my might. I finally got the beast standing. I now had all the 786 pounds of raw metal between my thighs. I wanted to give my best shot at cranking the engine to life. Someone fore-saw this and decided to pull the crank off the bike. Had to settle for the button. I could feel the monster that lay asleep while I turned the battery on. It was eerie. But it was a amazing feeling, adrenaline rushing to my head. I could have done something stupid. I respected the bike. I turned the key to ignition and pressed the button (Oh and I almost forgot the run switch, a fine touch for these bikes). The beast was alive. Rumbling, like a hungry lion. I t was no purr of the stupid plastic bikes. This was just music. My hands were shaking beyond control. The bars were just reverberating. The throttle was smooth. The sound was deafening and it scared me out of my skin. I did not panic. I reached out for the foot peg and slowly eased the beast into gear. The resonance lessened. My body was no longer shaking with the bike. This was a pleasant feeling. I eased the clutch and throttled. She moved. I kept her gliding. It was amazing. I cant explain anymore in words.

I drove a HARLEY. Read that again. That has been my dream for perhaps all my life.

People...Don't call my work a hassle anymore. Its made most of my dreams come true...



Well, they usually say, 'when in Rome, do as the Romans do'. I would just retort saying, why? When in Rome, just do what you want to do. As a kid, they teach you how to behave as a kid. In school, they teach you how to be a student. In college, they try to teach you how to be a professional. At work, they teach you that morality is what at stake. At each stage, they teach you to be something they think is best for you. They teach you what they missed in their lives. They use you to fill their gaps. They think they are helping you be better than what they turned out to be. A kid is an individual as long as he thinks for himself. A man is an individual as long as he decides for himself. The moment there is someone trying to sort things out for him, he loses his identity as an individual. He is obscured by the bonds of the so called society. I love the saying 'it was man who created civilization. Not the other way around'. Its true. If man did not think for himself, he would not have lost his fur or shaved his arm pits. If man did not think for himself, there would not have been any mankind. Who taught man how to feed or how to commit suicide? He tried, he succeeded. Those who failed are hungry and alive(the worst things that can happen to someone at th same time). Man has a mind that grows with him. It remembers. It recollects. Only when you see, you remember. Only when you remember, you recollect. Only if you recollect, you can prove your point, any where. Well, unless you think for yourself, you can't be you. Its people like them who tell you there is a right way to think and a wrong way to think. Theres only one way to think...Your way. The m0ment you have someone else doing your thinking, you are institutionalized. You have lost your identity in the land of the free men. The moment you start thinking like a man when you are a kid, you are institutionalized. The moment you start thinking like a retired man at 21, in your first job, you are institutionalized. Be free. You have a mind of your own. Stop using what others use. Find your mettle and focus your way, screw the world.

This is a bloody straight forward post. Please don't look for any hidden meaning or wise-cracks. There aren't any. This was not written in frustration. This was written as a reminder for me to not stop myself from doing what I want to do. Same goes to you.



Dear God,
I am writing to you because I have started contemplating on my present condition and I am sure I will be needing some help. I don't have anyone near me to go to...

I have lived the life of a simpleton. Very few wishes. Very few wants. I have what I need and I am almost satisfied. I have enough to satisfy most of my wants. I am not shy in saying I am proud of my will to refrain from getting everything I desire. I have had this as a virtue ever since I was a kid. I remember not getting myself the geared cycle even though I was dying in my heart to. I remember settling down for a 200 rupee lighter when I could have got myself a 400 rupee one. Well, this is what I was proud of. But God, I am thankful for your gift too. I have a set of parents who let me buy a 200 rupee lighter when they knew pretty well I was not smoking and the agreed to buy me a geared cycle when they knew there was going to be at least a month's monetary constipation to follow. I still remember the trips we took and the innumerable key chains I bought just because I fancied them. I am sure it was just because of my parents that I am what I am, today. They gave me enough to make sure I did not miss them when they were not around, but gave me just enough to realize I was born with limits. If there was one thing they told me, it was I could spend as much as I wanted on food and books. I told them I was eating out and used the money buy books. They did not mind. They put me in college when they were fighting to save for a house to live in. They apparently considered me a better investment. I fondly joked saying I was a dead investment. Well, I certainly don't send home any of the money I earn. It doesn't stop them from being proud of their son. I convinced my dad that a digital SLR for 28k was a safer bet than a video recorder for 36k. I still don't know if he fell for it or if he succumbed to my incescent nagging for an SLR. But in the end I got one. He spent a cart load of money on my design courses. I attended classes to make sure the money did not go waste. My mother still feels I have my reasons all on the wrong things. Every step, I have been thankful to you and to them for what I am and what I have. I am sorry for being a load they have to carry around. The least thing I can do is to to make them laugh or at least smile. Like I said, I have little, but enough. But now, I want a bike...I don't know how to ask for it, but I don't have the money necessary to buy it myself. I am writing to you, GOD, because I know my dad reads my blog and if what I have written doesn't move him, nothing else will.


LOVE...PASSION..And everything in between

I walked into my room, on the terrace, late as usual from work. I tell myself I have to get back early each day. Somehow, I just cant. Not even for the one waiting for me. The very sight of her, draped in the darkest of blacks, sitting at the foot of my bed, waiting for my return, instills all hope back into me. She has been my companion for a week now. I had no idea I would get my hands on something so beautiful and slender. She is the find of my lifetime. I just have to look at her and I am already fresh and ready for the night ahead.

We met, perhaps a couple of years back, at a shop in chennai. I was rambling on with my friends an she was there, dressed in the same black, ogled at by a bunch of raucous, fat pursed boys. I slipped her a cheeky smile, out of pity and continued to crack away jokes with my friends. This was the first time I saw her. But it was nothing. No spark of any sorts.

I was then back in college and life went on as usual. I started bunking classes for the fun of it. Like every final year student, I had a project that had to take up 12 hours every week. I was lucky. I had finished most of my project the previous semester and was free to roam the college premises with anyone I chose. Problem, everyone else was busy thinking of a good project for their semester and no one was interested in checking the college perimeter out. I was alone. And like every lonely soul thinks, I thought. I thought a lot. Yeah...You are right. One of the major thoughts I had were about the, then trivial, incident in Chennai.

I am an ardent devotee of all computer games. I can play on a computer for ages and not feel in any way, useless. I would go to the sty they called a hostel, every day, just to get my hands on a laptop to play games on. Thats how I bridged my friendship with everyone in college. Games got me through. We would meet outside on weekends and play through the night. We would play at the Reliance Web World, paying through our noses for an hours worth fun.

Well, it was at a web world in coimbatore that I saw her again. This time she was with another boy. I was at first not sure if it was her, but it was definitely the same black-jet black. I was aghast at what was happening. She was better off without him. Again, I did not relate her with me. But it was not coincidence that had brought her to my city. Whatever it was, I was thankful for it. Now she started hogging my thoughts. I tried to talk to my mother (perhaps the one person I trust the most). She was helpful. She said, wait, you are too young and your dad cant afford to pay for all the expenses that are attached. She was right.

College was over, I started working for PRICOL and was drawing a pretty good sum.
I now thought the wait time was over and I tried to spot her in the crowd. She stood out to me. It was a matter of 2 days before I spotted her. She was in a shop that my friend's neighbor ran. I went in with the pretense of wanting to exchange pleasentaries and took a mighty good look at her. Man, the black was a stand out. The curves were just perfect. She would be an envy for any man. And she was alone. I just couldn't wait. The moment was perfect for me. There was nothing standing in my way anymore. Like any straight minded, un-adultered brat would do, I flashed my mobile around, then took out my debit card, and paid for my first PSP. Now I am no longer walking into an empty room. I have my love waiting for me. Waiting for me to hold her. Why the do you need girls when you have a PSP?????


My Pleasure DOOM

The early morning breeze hitting me on my face, sending a happy shiver of cold down my sculpted back. The hair on my bulky arms raise in unison, angry at the sudden exposure of nascent skin to the harshness of the weather. I lose the slightest trace of tire and wear at the sight of the brilliant orange of the sun, slowly revealing itself from the depths behind the blanket of the whitest clouds. I am best dressed for the morning. A skimpy shirt and a white dothi. The symbol of the contemporary nomad. The sun had just woken up the birds with its warm beads light. The best felling in the world when you are standing bare foot on the road and the birds are singing the morning song up in the heavens. I filled my lungs up with the fresh morning air. Neatly slid the ear phones of my then latest MP3 player, into the ridges of my ear. They sat there, snug, like they were made for me. The music was floating in like it were from the very air around me. It personified everything fresh.

I was leaning forward, arms stiff and out stretched. The wind trying with its acclaimed might to split my hair. My knuckles white from gripping the throttle for so long. My legs weary from the sudden and unsuspected braking and my thighs, holding my dothi to the tank.

Theres music in my ears, blocking any possible distraction for the outside. I am tapping my feet on the brake pedal.

("She's got eyes of the bluest skies...)
God bless Guns and Roses...
(She takes me away to that special place..)
How can he sing like that???
(I'd prob'ly break down and cry...)

Well, exactly at this point of time, I realize that I am not stretched out on a hammock, but driving on a busy road at what can be plainly described as "Break Neck Speed".

I slow down,

(I got a problem, much more in demand...
Theres world hunger, not enough to eat,
So much curroption, police brutality...)

When the hell did Michael start singing???

(Why you wanna trip on me??
Oooh stop trippin'...YEAH stop trippin'...Everybody jus' stop trippin')

I hit a turn at something close to 50 kmph. My slippers scrape the gravel on the road when I lean into the turn. I am hit by a wave of adrenaline. I slow down again while I hum to t=Micheal's amazing music. Its just awesome...I cant fathom how someone can create such a thing of immense beauty.

The song slowly melts into another song thats just as moving.

(Can I act like an angel, if I live like a jerk??
Can I keep on disguising, Can I make believe what I dont decieve, No No No....)

The lyrics just fall in place...Its like these people write with you in mind...

(Dirty money in my left hand, while the preacher's shaking my right hand,
They made me a winner, they made me a sinner)

I almost hit a man crossing the street and move on with his morning pleasentaries still ringing in my ears and my stomach.

Time can never mend the careless whispers of a good friend
To the heart and mind, ignorance is kind
there's no comfort in the truth
pain is all you'll find)



That was the next thing I remember...Oh...by the way...wham was just a coincidence...The wham I mention above it the sound that was generated when I hit a bike crossing the road. I had hit him head on...at 60...I had knocked his handlebar and forks clean off his bike...And the "slap" is the people knocking me back to my senses.

Everything that followed next is still like a fairy tale.

I no longer go out with my head phones safely in my mother's hands. My mother mother bought me a brand new helmet to better protect my already fried brains. And I have live (happily) ever after. I do not miss my chance to laugh (I am not sure if that was because I hit my head in that little fiasco).


The strangest compassion

It was 9.30 in the night. I had been working late as usual. I am an ardent lover of all animals. There is this stray pup that I buy food for, each night. This fellow spots me coming out everyday and follows me to the usual spot where I buy him his daily meal. I don't have to ask the shopkeeper for a pack of biscuits. Its become a ritual and we work like clockwork. I got him his pack of biscuits. And like everyday, I share my pack of biscuits with him. One for him(he leaps and snatches it out of my hands) and the next for me(if I manage to cheat it from his keen eyes). We are regularly made fun of by my colleagues. Even if I do, he doesn't give a damn. He just keeps wagging his tail at me and I keep wagging the biscuits under his nose. Each day, we are closely watched by the local begger. He has his one eye on the dog and the other on the pack of biscuits that I use to bait the dog. I am sure he is need, it has never occurred to me to share the pack with him. I always thought that if a man could walk, he could fend for himself(all you need in life for protection are your legs, in case things turn bad and you need to turn tail). I never gave the begger a biscuit. Either I would eat one or two from the pack or I would give the whole thing to the dog. Its been two months since I started feeding this dog and now-a-days, I find the begger shooing the dog off at any possible situation. On this day, however, I was walking through the office gates, craning my head and squinting through the night's smog to catch a glimpse of the dog. Its a great feeling to find someone who is actually happy to see you no matter how late you are from office, or how insanely hungry you are.
I caught sight of the begger sucking away at a half used piece of cigarette under the shelter of the PRICOL bus stop. The dog was no where in sight. Suddenly, across the road, I heard the happy yelp of the dog, my dog. He was happily snipping away at the heels of one of the operators from my company who automatically shooed him away. Being the dog that I raised, he did not leave the half scared, half nervous man alone. He continued to snip at his heels and his shoes. The man did not realize the joy behind the dog's actions and kicked a him. Scared at the sudden movement, the dog jumped from the side of the road into the steady trickle of traffic. Being that it was 9.30 in the night on one of the busiest roads, the dog was hit by a passing Qualis. The car was doing quite a speed and he could not stop the car in time to avoid hitting the dog. Dogs are born with an instinct for escape. I have no idea, but the dog avoided being crushed and howled its way over to where I stood. I too dumb struck and nervous to move ad I couldn't stand the sight of the dog. He looked pitiful, howling like a baby, unable to stand on his hind. He fell down in a heap and I was still too queasy to do anything. I did not know how to react. The begger made his way to the dog and started slowly stoking him. It should have been soothing, because the dog was no longer howling as bad. Once the dog had stopped howling, he slowly held to the dog's hind and put it back on its feet. The dog winced and feel back on the ground. He did not give up. He gave it another shot. I do not usually believe in miracles, but the dog stood up, wincing, howling, but standing. I now buy the begger a slice of bread or two every time I see him. He had the courage to do what I couldn't.

I write this in the memory of the dog that no longer wags its tail when I am sad. I haven't seen him in over a week now. I haven't seen the begger either.



(A sliver from a brother’s diary)

July 29, 1939.

We have been running from the Germans for 3 days now. We were spotted for the second time yesterday by their sniper. We almost missed him. He was blended with the bushes. Don spotted him peeking. He had his camouflage on. Down to the twigs on his helmet. It was luck that gave him to us. I did not want to alert the entire battalion. I got my boys to lie low for a while. It was 2 in the morning and most of their men would have been asleep or atleast weary, for we had been giving them the slip for a week now. I was wrong. The sniper let out a shrill whistle out to call his mates. The whistle sent chill down my neck, combined with the strong winds at 2 in the morning. I froze. I got my men into formation and we changed direction to give them the slip. It had worked before and I was not going to try something new. But Sid pointed out to something small that was pulling a man behind it. The Germans now had dogs on our heels. I got the guys to split into 3 groups of 2 and I took Jack with me. Sam climbed the nearest tree and spotted atleast 20 men, including 3 snipers, 5 dogs. I thanked the clear skies and the bright moon. But we were just as exposed as they were. I did not want to loose any more of my men. I had already lost 3 to this bloody mission. I told my men to flange the Germans from behind the trees and take out as many as they can. The looked at me in stunned surprise. Our mission was to discretely take out the German base 20 miles into the Polish lines. Not try and survive an unnecessary barrage of bullets from a completely incompetent set of soldiers. I was confident of our victory. The Germans looked scared. The did not leave their formation. They were a clump. Its always easy to take out a bunch. It’s the stray ones that are troublesome. They were getting closer to us. My men had already managed to get behind their formation. Everything was set for a cross-fire. The plan worked. The Germans were caught in our cross-fire. The Germans fell to the American bullets. We took no prisoners. I lost none of my men. We trudged on for another 4 hours before we were in sight of the German base. We dug our pits in less than an hour. Got our supplied stashed and filled our satchels with what we needed. I got the guys to rest. Tomorrow we take out the base. We had to plan. Our C4 was minimal. We have to rig up a new one to blow the whole place sky high.

My bud from the 31st battalion wrote saying he had an amazing new talent in the troops. A girl called something like Marilyn Monroe or something. He wrote to me saying was amazing on the field. The Germans infiltrated the American soil on the 15th. She rushed to ground zero and ran stark naked to distract the Germans and to give the sniper his room for magic. She did not realize she was also distracting the sniper. But you gotta give her a ten for her courage.

I received a letter from Sam yesterday. It was a reply to my whishes for his 5th birthday. Lisa had also written. I get it from the letter that things are not bright back home either. The state now claims to have their hands on a man called Rudolf Butler. They claim him to be the link to the German master mind Adolf Hitler. They claim Adolf to be Rudolf’s evil twin. Lisa works for the Intelligence and she wrote saying they are trying to seduce Rudolf into talking about Adolf. I want them to try this Monroe girl. But Lisa also said there is some small time pub singer they are working with. They are getting him to look like Diana Ross. And from what Lisa write, they are almost there. This man is going to seduce 12 year old Rudolf into talking about his twin brother. She called this man some Michael (a common name that can be over looked if ever checked by the Germans).

Well, I am atleast alive to command my men. I sure hope they get this thing wound up before the whole army is eradicated. I have 2 hours of rest before I have to communicate my plan for the operation ROOTCANAL, to the group. I hope I am alive till then. Although we took out the Germans on our tail, I still think they were just the tip of an ice berg. I miss Tequila on the rocks. And I miss Sam and Lisa. Love you guys, and you too Tequila.


This piece of text was written by an American soldier who thought he was leading an American troop of atleast 7 during the second world war on the 29th of July, 1939. If you believe this is true, man you need a lesson in history. Also, I have no idea about Monroe’s courage. So there was no offence meant there. With Michael, please do not think it is Michael Jackson. I love him. This is just some Diana Ross look-alike Michael. If you feel any part of the above post is against your religious principles, please do not hesitate to add that in the comments.



It was just past midnight. The owl's hoot woke him from his doze. It was never more than a doze. Not that he was a light sleeper, but because it was all he could afford. A still moment. A break from his march the whole day. He can never afford to stop. He was counted upon by his entire family. He was not the eldest. But he was the oldest. Everyone older than him were dead or were devoured by the drought. He had managed to cheat both. His mother had somehow managed to raise another family and now it was upon him to serve her and her new family. He was her minion. He was destined to serve her.

His family was so huge it was dubbed "The Colony". They had a whole hill to themselves. He was the eldest now and he had to bear the burden of bringing in food for his family. He did not necessarily have to haul the food in. If he found something worthwhile, he could call out for his brothers and they would come give him a hand with the haul. He seldom hunted. It was dangerous to hunt, given that he had to provide for his family and he could not afford anything happening to him. But when he was high on his senses, he would try his luck with a fresh catch.

He liked an adventure. He actually craved for them. He would wander into the most dangerous parts of the wilderness just to catch a glimpse of this huge atrocity of a monster that was the cause for all his sufferings and losses. The monster had single handedly devastated his whole life. It had killed his father (or so his mother said). He watched the monster kill his brothers with a single blow. He had seen it crush his brothers, armors and all. He had seen enough to trust in its immense strength. It was his mission to save his present family from this thing. He was ready to risk it all, if necessary. War was not new to him. He had conjured many a wars and had infiltrated a number of secure, so-called impenetrable sites.

The owl that woke him up, swooped down pretty close to him. He was worried for a moment that he might be caught off guard. But he had enough time to react to the owl's sudden frenzy. He was out on the prowl for some food for the colony. It was now 3 days since he had caught the glimpse of any food. He had recently found traces of some new food. He called it food because it was very much edible and it also had an amazing taste, quite unlike his mother's. He had never tasted anything quite so similar. He realized that this was the crumbs from the monster's feed for the day. It was not difficult to deduce as he soon saw a whole bunch of it placed neatly on a silver tray, the size of a parking lot. He decided this was going to be his dinner for toy and for years to come. He decided to call out for his brothers. A bunch of them could definitely haul the whole loot out. Trouble was it was well past midnight and there wasn't so much as a stray beam of light to guide him out of this wilderness and into his hill. It did not matter. He had left a trail for himself as a precaution. But before he left to get his brothers, he thought he would take a closer look at how just how much food the monster had left for him to forage. He was astounded at the expanse of food laid out in front of him. It was too much emotion for him to control. He almost cried in exhilaration. He tried a spec of the monster's food and wan moved by the very taste of it. It simply melted in his mouth. He decided it was worth risking the lives of his kid brothers. A least it'll keep the ones alive, alive.

He turned to get his brothers and caught sight of the monster. Rolling in his sleep, his mouth wide open to the skies. A long thread of drool hanging from his mouth. His snore was piercing through the air. Every breath of his sent a cold spike down his back. He stood there watching the monster's huge abs rise and fall in rhythm to his snore. He was disgusted at the very sight of this thing. He was reminded of the many brothers he had lost to this monster's swipe. He could remember his mother's drawl " You were fools to go to a fight naked. You should have dressed up like me. Those monsters like us women better than you puny freaks". It just infuriated him. He decided it was time. He controlled his emotions long enough to call his brothers to the scene. The trail he had laid earlier proved helpful. Soon his brothers were feasting on the monster's meal. When they were full, they slowly started shifting the food, speck by little speck, to their little hill.

Our hero slowly gave his brothers the slip and made his way to the spot where the monster lay. He clawed his way up an was now face to face with the monster that has caused him so much grief. He stared into the monster's half open eyes for sometime. By this time, the sun had just started to peek out from behind the clouds. A faint ray of light streaked across the wilderness, breaking the lining of the clouds. It cast a huge shadow of him on the monster's face. The monster, feeling the sun hit him on the face, turned in his sleep. Our hero, slowly made his way closer to the monster. With all his might and with all the strength he could derive from his every limb and muscle of his, he tried to choke the monster. He could not fit his limbs over the monsters neck so he tried biting off the monster's wind pipe. He slowly made his way to the monster's neck and again, with all his might, took a bite at the monster's throat.

Who can stand a bite at the throat, even when they are sleeping? I am no exception. I just crushed the ant and went back to sleep, without realizing that I had given a completely stupid ant, the title of a martyr.



I have been following the mobile world for quite sometime now. I've actually fallen out of touch since I joined work. The mobile phone has so far been my favorite inventions of my lifetime(I do not mean to make it sound like I invented it...,but). I don't think there is any necessity for me to go on about how important it has been and stuff. What is best about this piece of technology is that it has revolutionized the the modern society. In a span of a decade, the mobile has transcended from being a symbol of modernization to an object the wife involuntarily picks to throw at her husband. I remember the monolithic sculptor they initially tried to pass of for a cell phone. I remember the buzz it created among the people. The endless opportunities it brought along with it. Any one who had the financial support to procure the then MOBILE phone did not anticipate the bill that was part of the package(like the news we dread after a fling). The phone soon ebbed away from being an invention for the people to being an invention for bankruptcy. But its legend never did fade. This particular phone I am talking about had features no one could have imagined at that point of time. It was a cordless phone and a pager all rolled in one. It could let you call anyone from anywhere. The best touch the guys had added to it was the good old snake game. It just blew the peoples minds away when they realized they could now actually do something when they were bored(this small inclusion helped reduce the population spurt by 15%).

Now that the mobile phone was all settled among the niche section of the society, it was now time to widen the avenues for market. The most daring move in the world of marketing ever and one of the finest in that too. The target group was set as the so called NXT GEN kids. The group that thought anyone above 25 was old and anyone nearing 40 was senile. Give them a tag to suck on and watch the product behind the tag sell like hot scones(how do you think PEPSI was a success? Imagine if they had tried to sell PEPSI to a bunch of immaculate 45 year old gentlemen). Tell the kids the mobile was a revolution inspired by their motives and pet peeves, you get yourself the widest market in the world. Well, this phone was designed to be slightly sleeker and more user friendly than the previous one. It was supposed to give the kids the feeling of freedom and the aged, the feeling of youth. Well, you now have a phone, pager, gameboy. What more can you give to sell your product? The answer was in the inclusion of an infra red port for easy data transfer. You can now send and receive saved names and numbers with the touch of a button and a wait time in the rage of an elephants gestation period. But still, it was another revolution that was now available to the common man(but are rich bastards that common?).

Technology improves with progress of time. Now the prices of the mobiles had started to fall thanks to the privatization of the network providers and the mobile was now truly a common mans pride. You no longer had to save for a house just to buy yourself a mobile phone. You just had to sell it. with this step, the phone manufacturers started adding fresh and innovative features to the mobile phone. If you could afford it, you could now go in for a phone that let you play 2 player snake games and display the names and numbers on a wider screen with a backlight of your choice.

The next innovation was just as good as the mobile phone itself. Now there were affordable mobiles with built-in cameras. You shoot a picture of someone, it turns up a sonogram of them when they were a fetus. But another step into the future. With the camera came other features like video recording, MP3 player(a savior for the lost and the hopeless), GPS(also a savior for the lost and the hplessly lost).

A sudden spurt in the mobile population. People started realizing the incentives that came wit the mobile phones. They started using the phone to their advantage. The manufacturers also started toying around with the customers. Showing them what they want to sell and telling them that was what they NEEDED. Your B/W Lcd back lights got slowly transformed into the color LCDs and the TFTs. The mobile got transformed. It was now ready to meet the requirements of a whole new defenition. It was no longer the MOBILE phone . It is now the Smart Phone. Smart name.

My friend recently got himself one of these babies. It was a bomb. It had features you can only dream of. Sliding key pad, edge, Wi-Fi, bluetooth, internet browser, office softwares and the rest of the paraphernalia. He paid a bomb for it too.

But all this is not the revolution I had in mind. I recently ran into a phone. No, THE phone. I am going to attempt to list down the features of this phone. I am sure to miss out on a lot, but the general look out features are
  • Touch Screen (mind you, my friend's 11k phone did not have it)
  • 3.0 mega pixel camera (with video recording capabilities)
  • Bluetooth
  • 4 built-in speakers with 3d surround sound(ITS AMAZING)
  • Fm radio
  • Slide Show capabilites
And here is the part that actually drove me to get this piece on nascent ingeniousness

  • Built-in TV(appreciate the thought though the reception is a little sad)
The other amazing factor that drove me to get this phone was its tag. It came with 2 batteries, a USB charger, A USB video cable, 128MB memory card and a cute receptionist handling the customers' whims. It was priced at 4.4k(inclusive of taxes of any possible kind and a serious half-an-hour haggle).


I am writing this blog to educate general public, about the presence of other trustworthy brands of mobile phones among the present DONS. The phone I bought was called

Looks familiar? I did not realize this for 2 days since I got my phone.



Well, they say age is a factor in decision making. The more you grow the better your decisions are.

An idiom. And idioms have exceptions.

Now you know where I fit.

I've been making all my decisions all these years.

It was I who decided I was going to be a boy. And I now take it for granted my decisions are always good.

I remember the time when I had to decide which school to switch to. I had been in my previous school since my kinder garden and I happily chose to switch to another new school. When I had to choose what I wanted for my 12th birth day, I was spontaneous in calling out for a bicycle.

Well, then came my teen. This is where trouble starts. Actually this is where you get into trouble. All hell breaks loose when you realize that your friend for all these years has been a GIRL!!!!

You tend to think out of the box with anything you do. Be it riding your cycle with the gang or just hanging out with your family. You are in what can only be described as adolescence. Your actions are automatically reasoned and your parents are just scared beyond grief at your state. You are no longer paraded as a SON. You are now just a boy.

Getting back to the girl (they do not like being neglected for too long), you tend to realize her presence and your hesitation. You are no longer free to talk to her about you flat tire the other day. The major reason being, she doesn't trust you any more.

A serious situation indeed. And to top things off, Its now time for you to decide whether you are going to be an Engineer like Uncle Krishnan or be a doctor like Aunty Rekha or just be free like cus Raj.

Its a vulnerable state of mind and when you have a girl toying your brains at this stage, you are in for the most glorious recipe for disaster.

Get through all of that and finish your school, you realize that all this time you have been blissfully unaware of the joys of life. A 5 month hibernation period to muddle things up in your mind and blindly point in the direction of the closest Engineering College to home. Life has its ups and down. Now that you have decided its going to be an engineering college, its time to decide which course. Again, a game of twister and WOAH!!! you are a mechanical engineer in the making.

Again getting back to the girl, all this time you fall out of touch. You being nervous to act and she being busy scoring. As a fairy tale would have it, you score like hell and she drops a few points on the total and ends up in the same college you picked(BLINDFOLDED!!!!). Well life does give you a second chance once in a while.

You are in fresh company. You find good friends in strangers and you are now exposed to their ways of life. Its different being exposed to another's take on life.

You struggle to keep up with life. You struggle harder to keep up with your count on flunked subjects. Life is like a sailor's knot. The harder you struggle, the tighter the knot gets.

So sometimes, the best thing to do is sit back and relax. But mind you, once you get used to the idea of relaxing, you loose the idea of working.

Man girls are hard to maintain. You cant stray off them for any period of time longer than 5 seconds. Like i said, you are just out of your teens and in a society that wants the sexes to meet and interact. You try your luck. You seek help from those you think are the masters of the art of bird snaring. You spend like you crap money. You forget you dad pulls in lesser than he shells out on you. You are now the captive of the aged and mystic society of The Incurable Spendthrifts. Cycling with the gang now escalates to riding with the mob.

Your dad realizes you are growing(better late than never). He wants to help shape your future. Its your 22nd birthday, you are nearing your end of college life. Your dad wants to get you something that might help you in the future. He wants you to decide.

Well I am at this stage now and I am absolutely devastated. Well between the scores of friends and that girl I tend to neglect, its difficult to decide between the PSP and the PS2.


I say PSP!!!!!!!!!



I call this PROTO only because this is my first blog and I have no previous experience in either blogging or penning my thoughts. I only write because my friend has been badgering me to do so for just over an eternity now. Well I thought if I start writing in my blog, I can start commenting in his. To start off on a lighter note, I decided to talk on one of my favorite topics, BOREDOM. My sole companion since I left college. I work at PRICOL, and I found here, my escape from this disease of mine. I tend to get bored easily of whatever I do. I decided to do a little research on WHY I got bored so easily. I found there can be quite a few reasons why one can get bored. I listed them out so I can get a good grip on the situation and try an ease myself off this state of mind. I thought I could share my research with people I know so that they can chuck any ideas on why I am a pain in the butt.

Boredom has been my savior for all these years. I have proof that the only word that can stop any argument at its peak is "BOREDOM". I would encourage you to try it...

Take for instance an argument with your parents on why you flunked your exams (10.5/100)...I promise you you can stun your parents to a dumb silence by just saying " I was too bored to answer more than 2 questions"...

Trust me when I tell you it works.

Boredom has been my reason to both success and failure. I succeeded in failing because I was bored.

I did not start blogging all these days because I was too bored to and I have now started blogging because I was too bored to do anything else. I remember the times in college when I attended classes because I was bored.

I can safely use 'Bored' to reason out any of my mistakes. And I do it too.

Why didn't you come home for dinner????!!!!

Doesn't the expression "BORED" just fall in place here????

When does someone get bored?
I am sure it happens when you have been doing either too much of the same thing or doing something the same way for just a little too long.

The best part is I have not been doing either but I am easily bored. Nothing can keep me happy for too long.

All this is in tune with the Newtons Law : (Some)Body will continue to be in a state of SLEEP or of Continual BOREDOM until acted upon by an external force.

All it takes to feel busy (I assume thats the opposite of Bored), is some force.

A supernatural force for sure, coz I've never experienced it before.

Why the hell do I talk so much about something so lame???