You know, I have these jhatkas, wherein I just go berserk and get creative.
This is what I did on my main door. The wall colour is actually purple.
This work is done with a marker pen and ohp market :=)
My paintingiri
Posted in My paintingiri on 10/14/2009 12:05 pm by A J
Our vengeance, our love
Posted in Our vengeance, our love on 10/06/2009 05:26 pm by A J
It was her first baby, our first child, my first child! “Every time I was with him”, she said, “only you filled my mind. Even though miles apart, it is only you who are the real parent to this child”.
I held her in my arms, my newborn. Big eyes like mine; skin like hers and again, a cleft just like mine. Was this real or just my imagination? My partial sight? Nevertheless I did not care. She was our baby.
“Srinika”, I christened her, a name she approved with a smile.
It was as if she knew she belonged to me.
I pulled my beloved closer to me with my other hand.
“Just one question?”
“Why? Why did you marry him?”
Tears from both our eyes fell on Sri’s forehead, meeting as a drop and soaking her wrap.
“Destiny”, she said with a tone of assurance, “had other plans my love”.
“Every time, everyday I was with him, my heart was just with you. From the day you first touched me till today, it’s only your touch that I have felt. Sri here, our love child, is my gift to you.”
Yes! Sri was my love child.
Our vengeance against the world.
Two women can never be together, they had proclaimed.
It’s against nature.
“You can never have babies”.
“You’d need some stranger to donate his sperms.
And then you’d be some unholy bitch to bear the other’s child”.
Sri was the product of a holy matrimony.
Now dare anyone point a finger against us!
Two women can never be together?
They can never have children? Ha!
As the train cooed its departure, we held hands and laughed the last laugh.
The Walkman played our favourite song “Nothing’s gonna stop us now”.
Disclaimer - About me
Posted in Disclaimer - About me on 10/05/2009 01:26 pm by A J
There are many questions/confusions about me on iLand.
Toh socha, let me clarify things.
Pehle toh, Thanks for all the appreciations you loved ones give me.
It adds up to my dedication to write.
Well talking about my previous post, I mentioned my “wife” in there.
He he… well she was just a piece of my imagination and nothing else.
I’m one single human.
I have been asked whether what I write is original?
Well it is indeed. Fully from the heart.
Almost all I write is inspired from my own life.
Only when I write a piece of fiction is when I imagine beyond comprehension :=)
I love to write and almost all my posts have been written in less than 15 mins.
Besides writing I’m a passionate musician too.
I also dabble in a lot more things. But that reveal, some times later.
I’m one mad cap, so being with me means you sure have to leave your brains behind.
More about me, but as time progresses.
I love simplicity and absolutely abhore those who use fancy words just to impress the other.
It puts me off. Infact anything artifical puts me off.
I love comments (we all do). But for me, it’s never about numbers.
For me, each comment is like a hug, very special.
I have had loved ones telling me that that they love what I write but can’t comment with the proper words.
I say if you cant “comment” comment, just leave a smiley there in the box. That ways I know you visited there.
You see, it’s nice to feel your presence, but a verbal simply adds to the adore.
Love you all…
Hugs galore
My painting - The eye catcher
Posted in My painting on 09/26/2009 06:24 pm by A JI love Tattoos.
And I love painting.
So today,
But why the heck would a darn painting have a bad effect on my loved ones? Ah! Blame it on my choice of canvas and colours.
The exhale of colours felt very holy to me.
Hence I decided a physical purification was important.
Took a bath. Used the scrubber well to clean whatever clogged the skin.
And being fair skinned, the shine shone well.
Dressed in the towel, I headed towards my easel.
I let the towel fall. The canvas was ready.
I looked at the knife. Ready it was to sink into the canvas and flow.
The bath had softened my skin well. All I had to conquer was the first jab. The rest would be very easy.
I had no picture in mind. I just wanted to flow.
The sharp knife I held against my skin and pressed it hard.
It pierced the dermis layers and the blood oozed.
Umm the first spurt of colour. The canvas's lost virginity.
I celebrated both.
It pained me. Bad would be an under description.
You see, an unconscious stab is bearable. But a conscious one hurts the worst.
A painter would dip brush into his colours and paint. I was digging the canvas for my paint. What a feel. And so unique.
I continued the carving. Careful not to slash myself anywhere, for a nerve badly cut would mean my canvas would fade. I would die.
Death for self was acceptable, but not for my masterpiece.
I continued with my work. The white marble floor stood testament to the blood flow. To the world it was gory but to me, my creative flow.
It took me 20 minutes to complete the painting. But with so much blood on my canvas, it was impossible to see the outcome of my passion. The blood wouldn't stop. I looked like I had been de-skinned. And when the salty air from the open window blew against my skin, the pain became at its worst best. Worst best, ha, what a misnomer!
An idea struck. I ran to the beach outside and jumped into the sea.
It was salty and the best disinfect for my skin.
And the sand that it carried would get lodged into my skin and texture my painting.
It's been six days since I last painted.
My canvas seems beautiful. It's "curing".
No artist, I say, would have lived his art like I.
My mother almost fainted when she saw me in my artistic state.
My wife is still to recover from the shock.
Every time we try to make love, she fears a spurt of blood.
Again the sheets have to be changed.
Again the reminder of my painting days.
Again the pain.
Everyone hates me for what I did.
The onlooker adults gasp and children cry seeing me.
And I boast my painting is an eye catcher.
Devi
Posted in The Devi on 09/23/2009 11:45 am by A J
"Andheri East, Poonam Nagar?", I asked the rickshaw wala. He nodded a yes.
A pleasure indeed for at close-to-noontime, these guys would not even want to venture to that side of the city.
The rickshaw chugged, soon to be stuck in a traffic jam.
Others mind jams; I don't, for it gives me an opportunity to study faces, people and surroundings. So even though pleasure it was not for me, pain it wasn't too. Going with the flow is what it was.
So there my eyes bulged to capture the road trip.
Motorists trying to accelerate their bikes, trying to vent their frustration.
Couple trying to make the best of the available moment and so much more.
And then I saw her.
At the footpath was her house, a house I may dare to call, for it was no more than big sheet of soiled bed-sheet, resting on a few pegs on one side, dug deep into the ground. The other side was tied to an adjacent wall.
She was beautiful. A child, I assume of say 8.
Dusky, copper toned skin with clean sparking teeth.
Approximately three feet tall, she had her little brother for company.
The little brother was just a lucky guess, for I saw no one else around them.
This little tot would run around and Ms. Pretty would bring him back to the safety of the tent, scolding him gently and then laughing away merrily, thus encouraging the little tot to run more, get re-scolded and have a hearty laugh. What a sight I say, what a sight to see. I was so glad the girl was getting a carefree existence for soon she would be on the streets trying to protect her modesty or give the junta a sneek peek of what she has, and in the process at least earn a few rupees extra.
Oh there I drift pardon me please.
In the midst of this play, a lady crossed the road.
She had a scornful look on her face and by the way she walked towards the children, I feared she was going to scare them away from their abode. But wrong I was .
She reached one side of the tent.
Removed her slippers.
My heart pounded fast. Was she going to hammer them with the pair?
Hell, no. No please NOOOOO
But wait.
She signalled for the little to come to her
(My heart: Don't take away the child please).
The lady gives her food to eat, touches her feet and walks off!
What she had done was actually followed a ritual wherein on a certain day, a virgin girl has to be fed and her blessings obtained.
I smiled.
Smiled large.
In one second, that little unwanted bitch, the street slut had turned into a Devi.
(Forgive me for using such words but this is how the street girls are perceived as.)
Wow! I said, Jai ho tere maya Prabhu.
Thank you for making us come up with bizarre rituals.
At least it fed an empty stomach today.
At least it made someone see beyond the dirty appearance.
At least it made us discover the true God inside.
(Pic courtesy: Flickr.com)
Shedding
Posted in Shedding on 09/22/2009 12:12 pm by A J
Life can teach you lessons, sometime at the rate of one in a lifetime and sometimes at the rate of one a minute. My current learning rate is like one every minute. The revelations are sometimes too much to handle. I don't want to change, I protest, but change I have to. But in actual terms, technically too, it's not a change change. It is like the snake who sheds his skin to find a fresher, deeper and more cleaner dermis for itself. The snake did not change; it shed a yesterday for a fresher today.
Yes, I have begin to shed my skin.
I'm learning my new self, accepting my real self.
The journey seems tough, but in the mind, it is like me walking from sunset to sunrise.
The path is dark, but that's such a positive sign, for darkness, as I once realised, is the shadow of light.
Unko dekha toh
Posted in Unko dekha toh on 09/11/2009 04:03 pm by A JUnko dekha toh yeh khayal aaya,
Unko dekha toh yeh khayal aaya,
Abey yeh kisi aur ke maal hai,
Jaaney de bhaya…
Some impromptu creation after a long time :=P
An ode to the Falooda
Posted in An ode to the falooda on 06/10/2009 10:49 am by A JThick syrupy, Loaded with candies and fruits dry, Living as a marrow In a bone of glass To be slurped Scooped, sucked And end up as guilt pang to the lusted devourer. Oh falooda What are't thou? Burp!A sweetness of existence,
Oh falooda
(Inspired by a conversation with my friends I penned this)
Originally penned on 18/3/2008
Reposted as a part of my lost post revival series
zer0 se Her0
Posted in Zer0 se Her0 on 06/10/2009 10:40 am by A J
* Wake up at 4.30am
* Run (not jog) for 7kms
* Stretch for 15 mins
* Come back and rest for 10 mins
* Workout
The Workout regime:
1000 Push ups
1200 Stomach Crunches
1000 Squats
5 Repetitions of 10 pound Dumbles (small weights)
2 Repetitions of 20 Kg Barbles (large weights)
Followed by ½ of Yog
Ahem this was my fitness regime when I was 17 years of age. I could push myself to such a physical limit that sometimes I would even shock myself!!
That was yesterday. Go ahead and challenge me to do 15 push ups today without a huff and may be I have to think twice.
But why am I discussing all this with you guys?
I'll tell you.
The tragedy of my life is whenever I come to a "proud" level of fitness or any other achievement, something or the other happens which makes me take a gap of a few days, eventually leading to a "muscular" paunch and an even "muscular" (read Flabby) body.
There were days when I used to brood about my "past fitness" level.
My "those were the days" phase seems to envelope each and every attempt to regain my physical fitness. I would desperately attempt to match my "long ago" fitness and would eventually crash with a gloomy face and a heavy heart (I am skipping the HEAVY BODY part here).
This pattern crept in my daily life too. I would crib about the "finery" of poems that I used to write and how I have become a dud these days.
My skin seemed to suffer too as all its glow and radiance was lost due to lack of fitness. So did my rounds of meditation, for in the "good ol days" I used to meditate for hours!
I remained in the debt of my "past" till my good ol buddy Lord the Great, gave me an insight. We theorised it Zer0 se Her0.
That day on, I began to take every attempt from level zer0. My "past" began to pass. And the best part is, I achieved 100 % results in each of my attempts.
Eg: I start to do a push up.
Mentality: Never done a push up before. Level Zer0.
I do one successful push up.
That means 0 to 1
Which equals 100 % success
If I managed to do 2, it would be a 200% success.
I would maintain the same level each week. Then when 2 became 4, it was again 100% success.
Same came with my poems.
I'd start off with a blank page. If I wrote a line, I was 100% successful.
And today here I am 100 % successful every day.
The blocks in my life continue. But every time I come down, I start from Zer0 and come to level Her0.
Just check even the word HERO has a 0 in it, right?
Which means to be a Her0, you have to be a 0 too!
But trust me, the attempt takes a lot of guts!!
Try it then come back to comment on this page with your take.
Id be waiting.
Ps: Well since I am talking about the past days leme share a Secret with you. In me life, I have never done more that 10 push ups! Does that mean I was bragging in the upper paragraphs? Nopes. I do not lie to my buddies.
The thing is I had a mental block of doing just 10 push ups or 20 stomach crunches only. So I used to start counting 1.. 2.. 3.. 4 and when I would reach 9, I would revert to 1, claiming I had "forgotten" the same. This way, I could reach my targets, without having to over come my block. I eventually grew out of the phase and stared a backward count from my target level. Eg. 200.. 199.. 198 to 0.
The advantage of the same was, no matter what mental block I had, I always achieved my target, and rest assured I always congratulated myself on the same and supplemented it with loads a rest.
This works great as well!!
Some additional Ps: The next time some one says you are a Zer0, or you end up feeling the same, secretly thank the person/Lord. For being a Zer0 means you have been given the chance to start afresh and become a true Her0.
- Originally penned on 24/8/2006.
Reposted it as a part of my lost posts revival session.
