LOVE...

and when all was done,and she sat still,
drenched in her sullied coat,
he gently slid upto her,
and gently, slit her throat.
when the sun came up for the shamed night,
for want, of wiping the stains,
all left that was, in a house so big,
were two lives,lost in vain.
he lay besides, all dressed in black,
in the dress they solemnly wed,
one night ,it took, for years of love,
to be torn, into shreds.
her eyes they say believing still,
twinkled with unflinching joy.
that the man she had, loved to death,
would never let her die.
and a letter there was, engraved in blood,
rested on her heart,
"together," it said. "forever my love."
"till death do us apart."

THE PREMIER LEAGUE DREAM TEAM

So, I am not a Manu fan(unlike half of the country). Nor do I swear by chelsea, or even liverpool for that matter. But the following dream team has players from all these three, along with some from Arsenal, and a few from the not so prominent clubs as well. There may be some glaring omissions, although the team has been picked keeping in mind the formation as well as the ability of the team to perform as a unit.
FORMATION :4-4-2, What else? Although it has been a subject of widespread criticism in recent years, coupled with it's inefficiency in Europe, but this is the most adaptive of all formations.
GOALKEEPER: There is no VAN DE SAR.. SURPRISED? Dont be. although a fine keeper, he is not the best in the league by any standards. though his height is often cited as an advantage, it is for me his biggest liability, for it makes him slow and sluggish. the best keeper in the league is Reina; an absolutely fantastic keeper with a superb all round game. whats more, he has been consistent over the past several seasons, something no other keeper can boast of. cant believe he and ALMUNIA are both Spanish....
DEFENSE: this is a no brainer. Serbian doosche-bag vidic is the defensive leader, partnered by the equally impressive Ivanovic. the left back BELONGS TO ashley cole(sorry evra, but cole is better than you) while the left back has to be either bosigwa or sagna. though not the most flashy of Wingbacks, Sagna does the job as well as any other in the league, while a fully fit Bosigwa would provide the needed flair to run at oppositions. ivanovic is a much better defender than terry, who is all gloss and little substannce.
MIDFIELD: NO SCHOLES, no LAMPARD. i dont like scholes.period. he is a horrific tackler, and he can be pressed easily. lampard is slow and gets tired easily.
the midfield would see cesc in the playmakers position, partnered by steven gerrard or michael essien, depending on the style of opposition. the wings would be manned by gareth bale(sigh.. he is good though) and NASRI.
FORWARDS: ROONEY? MAYBE. the problem with Rooney is that he is the most completely incomplete striker i have ever seen in my life. he is too much of a visionary to fit the bill as a striker, nor does he have the ability to influence the game like an ideal mid would. TORRES MISSES OUT AS WELL. SIMPLY BECAUSE HE IS TOO TEMPERAMENTAL.
MY IDEAL FORWARDS WOULD BE THE EVER WORKING TEVEZ AND THE HALF MAN HALF BEAST DROGBA.
the two would tear Defences apart. contrary to popular beliefs, Drogba seems to have improved this season, for he has added assists to his already burgeoning arsenal of talents. and Tevez would blossom with such a partner.
SUBS:
ROONEY(SORRY AGAIN)
MALOUDA
TORRES
RIO FERDINAND
SHAY GIVEN
WALCOTT
MODIRC

the premier league dream team....

AVERAGE....

Now why would anyone need vindication?
Since when did criticism become so intrusive and vague?
Wasn't it bad enough that we were conceited, plagued by mediocrity in a world so used to the herculean?
Our inspirations were always riddled, and subsequently defeated, by our aspirations...
We lost long ago, for we waged a war when there was none....
when glib showed up; and slowly changed everything..
and since we have lived under a diminishing halo..
Is obsession the new sobriquet for perfection?

INCOMPLETE....

WHEN WERE THE DELICATE BEANS SPILLED,FROM JARS OF DISCRETION?
AND STOLEN WITH DELIGHT, EACH CONVINCED; OF ITS SECRECY.
WHEN THE MOON COMFORTED AND THE RIGORS OF THE DAY,
FELL ASLEEP IN THE INNOCUOUS NIGHT.
BRIGHT,TRUE, WERE THE COLORS OF THE NIGHT.
AND EVEN IN BLACK THERE WAS LIGHT..
ALAS THOSE DAYS,THOSE DAYS ARE GONE,
EVEN THE RAIN NOW LOOKS FORLORN,
AND NO MORE IT IS A MATTER OF CHOICE,
FOR WORDS DESERTED FIND NO VOICE..
NOW EVEN THE LAMP SEEMS BETRAYING,
ITS LIGHT GLOSSED-
FOR SUBTLETY IT KNOWS LITTLE..
HARSH, CRUDE, IMPRUDENT LAMP,
BRIGHTENING THE HOLLOWS OF THE HEART,
AND GENTLY ERODING WHAT'S LEFT OF THE WARMTH..
THE ROAD WAS ALWAYS CAKED,
YET TREACHEROUS IT NEVER FELT,
THOUGH PAIN AT LARGE FELT THESE DAYS,
FOR THE SOFTEST OF BLOWS, SOFTLY DEALT.
THE BLADE WAS NEVER, NEVER THIS SHARP,
AND THE CUT, PROFOUND THOUGH NOT SO DEEP,
BUT THE SLIGHTEST NUDGE, A GENTLE BRUSH,
AND BLOOD GENEROUSLY BEGINS TO WEEP...
WHEN THE HEART LAST REJOICED?
AT LAST IT SEEMS A MATTER OF CHOICE,
YET WORDS FICKLE, CHOOSE NO VOICE....

ALIVE....

As if on cue, the world seems to be picking up. The first to answer my call was the wind. It has for long been a faithful companion. It has cried when tears deserted me; been dry and harsh as has at times been the want of my heart. But now it seems to have softened up. it has begun to delight, having rediscovered its verve. The voices it exudes have marveled me for long; but of late, there has been more to them. They are almost alive. Speaking, breathing. perhaps they always have. only i was too busy to listen.
It feels good to be alive again....

nemesis...

It is always settled: man is man's worst's enemy. worse, he is infinitely stronger, and wears that look of brooding that almost everyone wishes to imitate. the reflection that smiles from the other side of the glass, protected by the veneer of silver, and tonnes of arrogance. He hates you; but worse he makes no bones about it. this is how the world should be, raw, naked. true.
only it is not..
the world is indeed round, its atmosphere laden with hypocrisy; the banal remarks that return time and again, like the day and night. why is rudeness treated with disgust, confided though it is to the realms of the subconscious, wielded with such sloppiness that its effectiveness surprises us.
Are we all victims of hubris.?worse, are we spreading it everywhere??
Too much sweetness causes diabetes...

commonwealth games:

SHADED JADED....

bloodied angels have passed me by,
the shadows of doom that no longer lie..
for death excels and destruction still,
the boots of destiny yet to be filled,
run into the ground,
they still abound.
dead in waiting..
to forever hound.
cuts and bruises no longer bleed,
there is no need; there is no greed.
the clipped wings, engulfed in ire..
when vengeance alone is hearts desire..
simmered and burned..
till they return..
to turn the stones left unturned,
do believe...
in dismay and grieve...
for Satan will pale if wrath unloose,
when souls defeated, and blood will ooze..
the dead do speak, it all looks bleak...
for fate alone is woefully weak...

IT ALL HANGS IN THE BALANCE...FOR THE MOMENT

THE TOP 10 CURRENT FORWARDS IN WORLD FOOTBALL...

UNLESS YOU LIVE IN ANTARCTICA, YOU'VE PROBABLY HEARD OR BEEN AFFECTED BY THE FOOTBALL BUG IN SOME WAY OR THE OTHER..THERE IS NO DENYING THAT THE WORLD'S MOST POPULAR GAME IS INDEED AN ADDICTIVE DRUG, AND THE GAME HAS BOUGHT MORE JOY ON FACES WORLDWIDE THAN ANY OTHER SPORT. HERE IS A LOOK AT THE TEN MOST DREADED STRIKERS IN THE WORLD, WHOSE GOAL SCORING PROWESS HAS HOODWINKED AND BAMBOOZLED DEFENDERS WORLDWIDE.

1.WAYNE ROONEY: okay so the guy is having a lean patch for both club and country, and has bedded a gorgeous hooker, besides having been overshadowed by a certain Berbatov at united. Despite all this, the ex Evertonian is still one of the most complete strikers in the world, with vision, pace, and since last season, a prolific scoring record as well. what more could one ask for?

2. FERNANDO TORRES: another man who is not in the best of forms at the moment, but still deserves a place in this list based on pure merit. El Nino is blessed with devastating pace, a deft touch, silky dribbling, and an eye for the spectacular. If only he could put on his scoring boots again.

3. DAVID VILLA: Spain's tormentor in chief, 'the kid' is a prolific striker who enjoys an impressive scoring record for both club and country. though not blessed with the ability of Torres, he is technically sound and adept with both feet. currently playing for the Catalans, expect big things from this man.

4. DIEGO FORLAN: The veteran on a relatively young list, the man keeps getting better with age. a superb all round striker who won the golden ball for the best player at the world cup, Forlan is the talisman of an upcoming Athletico side. that man united once rejected this gem is dumbfounding.

5. DIDIER DROGBA: On current form, easily the best striker in the world by a fair distance. Arsenal's nemesis has now scored 13 in 13 against them, in addition to ending last season as the league's top scorer. the former Marseille man is a beast of a player, and has recently polished his all round game as well. the undoubted gem of a chelsea side overflowing with talent.

6. GONZALO HIGUAIN: the new man at the bernabeau is indeed a terrific striker, and he is still imporving. surprisingly fast and with a knack of scoring crucial goals, higuain's partnership with CR was what kept madrid in the race last season. Expect big things this season as well.

7. ZLATAN IBRAHIMOVIC: so what if he changes club more often every season, flatters to deceive more often than not, and somehow lacks an open game, Mr. abracadabra deserves a place in this list purely on the laurels of his talent. after a dream move to barca failed in an year, the swede has found his touch at milan. Just a shame he never fulfilled his potential. though it may be a little early..

8. SAMUEL ETO: why Barca let this man go, i fail to understand. Eto is a highly underrated striker, with his finishing and ability on the ball often overlooked for the more industrious though limited milito. still, his record in front of goal is to put it mildly, spectacular. And after having gotten back his favored position under benitez, expect big things from this audaciously talented cameroonian. just ask united.

9.CARLOS TEVEZ: the man city man is the most hard working pplayer you can possibly imagine. his touch is at times awkward, and he is not the most natural finisher; but tevez as a player is irrepaceable. he runs himself to the ground, scares of the most fearsome of defenders, and is equally prolific in front of goal. what more could one ask for?

10.LIONEL MESSI: The most talented player of his generation, his genius is as unquestionable as is his humility. Messi has speed, goal scoring ability, and a close control that needs to be seen to be believed. the current player of the year is in a league of his own, having pounded the best teams in the world with his audacious skills on the ball. a legend in the making, if not one already.

THE TOP 10 CURRENT FORWARDS IN WORLD FOOTBALL...

CHINESE NOODLES....

"just Chinese..", said the oblique eyed boy, a 'Chinki' that our grossly racist minds would generously label him, even as he otherwise wiped the table clean of some obstinately stuck cabbage.
"just Chinese?" i asked dejected, falsely blaming him for my 'stomachular' miseries.this was the third restaurant we had been to, and the third that had refused to serve anything other than cussed Chinese.
of course my profanity knew no bounds.
"OK then," I replied with a chesty haughtiness. "We wont eat anything.."
i did not even wait for the others to get up,jumping like an electrified baboon and storming out of that modest shack; in the process spilling water on that hapless follow, causing his oblique eyes to almost vanish in the process.
i had reason to be annoyed. china was on the rise..
the insipid reply had hurt my nationalism just as much as my nobility. China was everywhere. They had expanded their army, booted out the Dalai Lama, and were manhandling America like we could only dream of. Worse, there economy was swelling like our population, and they had had managed to land the ferrari right at their doorsteps.
vroom! vroom!
of course i was annoyed.
where were we, i wondered?
our country, it seemed to me was going nowhere. we had fallen way behind in what had become a two horse race, our borders were shrinking like ozone, and we did not even have Mazda. worse, the best i had was maruti.
sob. sob.
the famed games had just begun. we had spent an obscene amount of money on them, and our facilities were just as good. there were leaky roofs, dengue infested villages, squalid roads and gun yielding terrorists. our ministers had been busy chewing notes and making lousy statements about games being conducted about.err.. on time. we had eaten up a huge share of the budget pie, and almost everyone had thrown in the towel. (Manmohan Singh almost threw in his turban, but was restrained by Soniaji)
in contrast, the Chinese games were a model of efficiency. things were put in place years ago, when Lalit Modi still roamed the streets and Rajni fever had not gripped the country. they created everything at breakneck speed, and put on a show that awed and inspired as much as it scared and intimidated. the world went lady gaga, and we; well we went nowhere..
So, had i been born in the wrong country? Would i have been better off blessed with oblique eyes, saluting the liberation army, watching the Olympics, perhaps even driving a Ferrari???
Before my worldly desires almost defeated my patriotism, I chose to digress. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.
for the uninitated, china is not a democracy, like its much defamed neighbour(that would be us), which is seen as a major reason for its blistering rate of development.now that would be a good thing, right? hold your horses.. while the presence of democracy may sometimes prove to be a hindrance, its complete absence would certainly hamper progress. Democracy is like that only dress you have to wear. you may not like it, but then you can't be naked can you?
China does not allow its people to speak. its press is banned from voicing an opinion, and anything that is critical of the government is seen as a threat to the country. imagine that in a country like India, where everything from sachin's shots to Priyanka's shorts, from Kalmadi's remarks to the countries terrorism, from pink laces to white , is discussed and dissected with the skill of a surgeon, cut open and splattered for all to see. the press is relentless in its thrashing, whipping up steam to criticize and ridicule just as much as to appreciate. our politicians promote facebook, whereas the Chinese ban it. Google is like nuclear bombs, and their is a grimace on everyone's face that suggest a heavy welt in their umm..rear. Recently one of their kind, Liu Xiaobo won the noble peace prize for his unrelenting campaigning for human rights in his country. China on their part, was quick to criticize Norway for their dismissive attitude, and probably beat the above stated man in sheer frustration. he may not have felt much though. last heard, he had been in jail for 11 years.
11 holy years.
think about it, if we of all people did not have human rights, where would we be? we would not be able to pick apart the government, hurl shoes at them, fight over babri, cry over Mumbai, debate over chocolate fudge and a kitkat shake, etc,etc..
the problems would be endless. there would be no order. we would be mere puppets. controlled true, but barely alive..
NOW WHO WOULD WANT THAT. I CERTAINLY WONT . NOT EVEN IN EXCHANGE FOR A FERRARI.
PERHAPS IT IS GOOD THAT I AM HERE. PERHAPS WE WERE ALL MEANT TO BE BORN IN THIS CHAOS, IN SO DIRE NEED OF A CHANGE. PERHAPS THERE IS AN ORDER IN THIS RANDOMNESS THAT NEEDS TO BE SPOTTED.IF ONLY WE COULD.
so there i was, cribbing about the fallacies of our system, when i realized how fortunate i indeed was. immediately, i ran back to the shack that i had bolted out of not so long ago, and grabbed hold of the hapless chinki, his eyes open once again...
"where is that soup of yours? and that noodles?" i shouted at him. "give them to me, i will have it all!!"
as i gulped it all down, i felt its viscous warmth trickle down my insides, burn the anger within, and gently soothe the heart.
Chinese? maybe.. but not without a bit of Indian spice...
and as far as the fudge vs kitkat is concerned, the fudge always wins. hands down..

THREE PARTS OF AYODHYA, ALL FERTILE...

29 OCTOBER 2010; A RATHER LACKLUSTER DATE, WITH A SLAPDASH 2 IMPISHLY PAIRED WITH AN EQUALLY CAVALIER 9, GIVING WAY TO A BLAND INDIFFERENT NUMBER,LOST OTHERWISE IN THE JAMBOREE OF DATES, ALL REPEATED STOICALLY IN CYCLES OF THREE SIXTY FIVE..

YET EMANATING MISERY, DEFEAT, VICTORY, INJUSTICE, HATRED...

BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY ANGER...

AS WE WATCHED NERVOUSLY WITH EYES PROTRUDING OUT OF OTHERWISE CALLOUS SOCKETS, THE COUNTDOWN TO A DECISION THAT HAD BEEN SIXTY YEARS IN THE MAKING, THERE WAS A PALPABLE EXCITEMENT IN THE AIR, UNDERPLAYED EVERYONE TO A FAULT, BY NOISY POLITICIANS SINGING SURPRISINGLY SANGUINE MELODIES, BY CLUMSY NEWS CHANNELS THAT TRIED TO GLOSS THE MACABRE, AND FOR ONCE BREED LOVE IN PLACE OF THE VIOLENCE THEY HAD GROWN SO ADEPT AT...EVERYTHING HAD BEEN FORGOTTEN, THE PEOPLE WANTED PEACE, AYODHYA WAS A CHAPTER OF THE PAST, PAINFUL NEVERTHELESSM YET A CHAPTER THAT HAD BEEN TURNED OVER BY ALMOST EVERYONE, WEIGHED DOWN BY LEAFS OF MORDERNITY, WRITTEN IN THE CURSIVE OF SECULARISM.

ONLY WE HADN'T.

THE BOOK ALWAYS OPENED TO THE SAME PAGE. AND UNFORTUNATELY, IT WAS A STORY WE ALL LOVED TO READ..
I AM NOT A WITNESS TO THE HORRORS OF 1992, WHEN THE STREETS WERE COVERED IN BLOOD, WHEN WE CREATED HELL IN ALL ITS GLORY,WHEN SWORDS TALKED, AND HEADS ROLLED LIKE SPARE TIRES, DEFLATED, MUTED, BUTCHERED. I WAS A TODDLER THEN, CAREENING MY WAY UP THE EVOLUTION LADDER, EVEN AS MANKIND DESCENDED INTO UTTER PANDEMONIUM. YET IT AFFECTED EVERYONE, THE DUST THAT ROSE FROM THE RUINS OF BABRI CORRUPTED THE AIR, POLLUTING IT TO NO END.THE PLUMES WERE JUST AS DEADLY, BUT WORSE THEY WERE SILENT. THEY ENTERED THROUGH OUR NOSTRILS, ANGRILY SUCKED IN BY LUNGS THAT FELT CHEATED BY WHAT THEY BELIEVED HAD ALWAYS BEEN THEIR AIR. THEY WOULD DO THEIR JOB SOON, THEY KNEW IT. IT WASNT OVER YET.

I WAS SITTING IN THE CORNER OF MY CLASS WHEN THE DECISION WAS ABOUT TO BE ANNOUNCED. THERE WERE FOUR OF US, BOYS WHO HAD GLEEFULLY GOWN INTO MEN, WHOSE AFFLUENT LIVES HAD BLOCKED OFF THE RIGORS OF TRUTH, LIKE SUNCSCREEN, THOUGH MORE EFFECTIVE. WE KNEW LITTLE OF WHAT HAD PRECEDED US, YET WERE SKEPTICAL OF WHAT COULD SUCCEED. THERE WAS NO REASON TO FEAR THOUGH; JUST THE OTHER DAY THE DEAN HAD PROMISED US PEACE, THAT A MODERN DAY CAMPUS LIKE OURS THAT NURTURED ENLIGHTENED MINDS WOUDL NEVER BE BOUND BY THE SHACKLES OF RELIGIOUS ZEALOTRY. WE WERE RESPOSIBLE MEN AND WOMEN, THE LEADERS OF TOMORROW. RATIONALITY WAS PART OF OUR DNA.

OR SO WE THOUGHT.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE BABRI VERDICT?" I ASKED ONE OF MY FRIENDS, CITIF NO OTHER SEASONED DISCUSSION TO EMBARK UPON.

THE MAN WHOM I HAD ADDRESSED WAS ONE WHOM I ADMIRED FOR HIS DEMEANOR, HIS DEDICATION, AND HIS LACOSTE SNEAKERS THAT I HAD NOT BEEN ABLE TO FIND ANYWHERE.

STILL, I WAS ABOUT TO BE SURPRISED.

"WHAT?" HE SAID PERHAPS TAKEN ABACK THAT I HAD ASKED HIM THIS.

"WOULD YOU MIND," I ASKED PLAYFULLY. "IF THEY DECIDE AGAINST US?"

US, A WORD THAT EVOKED A RESPONSE, PLAYING OTHERS INTO GLEEFULLY ACCEPTING HANDS.

WHICH IT DID...

I HAD MERELY INTENDED TO HUMOR HIM, AT BEST ELICIT AN EDUCATED OPINION. YET AS SOON AS HE HEARD THOSE WORDS, HIS EYES BLOTCHED WITH RED, HIS VOICE LOST ITS REGULARITY, ENTERING A DOMAIN I HAD NOT SEEN OR HEARD PREVIOUSLY.

"OF COURSE,!" HE REPLIED HAUGHILY, ALMOST SHOUTING IN THE PROCESS. "IT WILL ANGER ME IF THEY RULE AGAINST US. THAT LAND IS UNDOUBTEDLY OURS."

AND JUST LIKE THAT, I WAS FLABBERGASTED.

THE MAN SITTING ACROSS ME, A FRIEND WHOM I HAD BEFRIENDED YEARS AGO, NOW SEEMED CRIPLLINGLY UNFAMILIAR. HIS WORDS HAD PUSHED HIM DOWN THE ALLEYS OF RELIGION, A PLATFORM THAT I ALWAYS FOUND SHAKY AND HAD HENCE AVFOIDED STEPPING ON. JUST LIKE THAT, HE HAD ALIGNED HIMSELF WITH THOSE OF HIS KIND, MEN WHO REFUSED TO SEE REASON, WHO KNEW THEIR WANT ELUDED ANY CAUSE, AND HENCE RESORTED TO ANY MENAS POSSIBLE TO BEND THINGS THIER WAY. HE WAS ONE OF THEM, HE HAD ALWAYS BEEN ONE OF THEM. ONLY I HAD NOT CARED TO NOTICE.

SOON THOUGH MY COLLEGE ANSWERED MY QUESTIONS. MY CAMPSUS WERE CORDONED OFF, AS WE WERE HASTILY PUSHED OUT SO THAT PEACE COULD BE BROKERED, RENTED IF NOT BROUGHT. THE BUSES CEASED TO EXIST, ROOTED TO THEIR SPOT FOR FEAR OF BEING BURNT, OF BECOMING VENTS FOR HATRED, OUNISHED PERHASP FOR HAVING THE AUDACITY TO BE IN MOTION WHEN EVERYTHING ELSE HAD COME TO A STANDSTILL. COPS WERE OUT IN NUMBERS, PATROLLING THE STREETS LIKE DENIZENS, AWARE OF THE POSSIBILITY THAT SOMETHING, SOMEONE COULD ERUPT, A POSSIBILITY THAT HAD NOT LONG AGO SEEMED IMPOSSIBLE. THIS WAS US, SECULAR, UNITED, DEFIANT; SCARED, CHASTENED, HUMILIATED.

THERE WAS NO HOPE THEN. THERE WAS ONLY FEAR.

SOON THOUGH, THE SCREENS CAME ALIVE. CAMERAS BLINKED, AS CHANNELS LAID BARE THE VERDICT, SCANDALOUS, CLEAN AND IMPARTIAL. THERE WERE FLASHED SIGNS OF VICTORY, CALLS WERE MADE, SMILES EVERYWHERE, JUDGES WHO GRAPPLED FOR THEIR MINUTES OF FAME. THE GAMES WERE JUST AROUND THE CORNER, AND THE ENTIRE NATION BREATHED A COLLECTIVE SIGH OF RELIEF. THE POISONOUS PLUMES THAT HAD LONG INHABITED OUR INSIDES, THAT HAD TRESSPASED OUR HEARTS WITH SUCH IMPUNITY, HAD AT LAST BEEN EXHALED INTO OBLIVION. THERE WAS PEACE, BROUGHT MAYBE, BUT IT PROMISED TO LAST FOREVER.

FOREVER, NEVER, NOT.

AS NORMALCY TOOK BACK WHAT IT HAD INITIALLY LOST, AND THE EVERDAY STRUGGLE BECAME THE ENGAGING TROUBLE, I PUSHED THE ISSUE TO THE BACK OF MY MIND, CONVINCED LIKE OTHER THAT IT HAD BEEN ISOLATED WHERE IT WOUILD DIE A SLOW PAINFUL DEATH.

BUT IT WASNT OVER. FAR FROM IT.

AS I MADE MY WAY THROUGH A MUSLIM DOMINATED AREA, THE LUSHNESS OF THE LANDSCAPE DISAPPEARED INSTANLY BY THE GRAYNESS OF MELANCHOLY. THERE WAS DISAPPOINTMENT WRIT LARGE ON SEVERAL FACES. EYES STARED BACK, BEARDS ASKED QUESTIONS, VEILED FACES THAT MUMBLED PHRASES, FORMED THOUGHT THAT NEEDED NO WORDS. THE CAB DRIVER, A PIOUS HINDU DEVOTEE, STARED BACK WITH EQUAL DISPLEASURE, MUTTERING CUSSES AND PRAYERS THAT QUAINTLY SEEMED FAMILIAR. LOOKING BACK IN THE REARVIEW MIRROR HE CAUGHT MY FACE, AND THE INCERTITUDE WAS ENOUGH FOR HIM TO BLUSTER.

"KOI NAHIN SAHIB." HE SAID SMILINGLY. "WE WON!"

SO WHO WON THEN? WAS IT THE CAB DRIVER, HIS SNEER PERSISITING LONG AFTER HE HAD LEFT, OR WAS IT THE SHOPKEEPER WHO KEPT STARING AT THE TV SREEN WHILE HANDING ME MY DAILY RATIONS? WAS IT MY SISTER'S MUSLIM TEACHER, WHO ALWAYS SMILED AT ME JOCULARLY, BUT TURNED AWAY IN DISGUST ON SEEING ME TODAY? WAS IT THE SADHUS WO FLASHED THEIR TAINTED SAFFRON IN RAPTURE, OR THE MAULVIS WHO CURSED UNDER MUTED BREATH, VOWING TO AVENGE THE INJUSTICE?

WAS IT US, THE NEW LOT AS WE ARE CALLED, WHO WITNESSED ONE OF THE MOST DRAMATIC TRIALS OF OUR TIME, TRANSCEND TIME ITSELF, AND RELIGION, PERHAPS AN ENTIRE NATION, YET END IN SUCH UNCERTAINTY? OR WAS IT THEM, THE ONES WHO HAD SEEN BLOOD FAR TOO OFTEN TO HAVE FORGOTTEN WHAT IT FELT LIKE,SMELLED LIKE, TASTED LIKE, THOSE WHO HAD TODAY EXPERIENCED VICTORY, OR THOSE WHO HAD ENDURED DEFEAT?

WHO WON THEN? PERHAPS WE WILL NEVER KNOW..

THE LAND WAS CUT INTO THREE PARTS. IT DID NOT OOZE BLOOD, FOR IT HAD BEEN DRAINED OF IT LONG AGO. GOD WAS COMPROMISED, AS THREE PARTS CUT UP AN ENTIRE NATION..

AND WE ARE STILL STITCHING IT TOGETHER...

EVERYTHING...

COLORS IMMERSED, BOTTLED SHADES..
THE BLISTERED SUN, THE WIDOWED MOON..
FROM PLASTERS, AND PEELS,
THE RED, THE PINK, THE BLOODIED INK, AND OF COURSE THE BLUE,
LIKE THE SKY,
ETERNAL, HUED, EVERLASTING..
BLUE, WHAT ELSE..
LIKE DROPS OF RAIN, LIKE LIFE..
TRICKLING, DRIPPING, TILL THE INCESSANT PELTER..
UNCERTAIN, PERFIDIOUS, PERPETUAL, CERTAIN..
LIKE DIAMONDS,
GLITTERING, THE SHENANIGANS OF LOVE,
TRICKS AND JINXES,
HEXED, TILL THERE IS NO RESPITE..
THAN SURRENDER, AND DEFEAT..
LIKE SNOW, WHITE IN DELIGHT...
YET MELTING A MILLION SMILES..
LIKE THE HUMMING BIRD, FLYING BACKWARDS,
DISPERSING MELODY, TILL STUCK HARD..
FALLING, DEFEATED, ALL OF IT..
THE CHIRP, AND THE TWIGS,
YES TWIGS, WHAT ELSE...
ENDED IN SURPRISE..
LIKE YOU,
LIKE ME,
LIKE EVERYTHING....

homecoming

it was still dark outside.
i like the darkness ,it seems familiafr; like a vague embodiment of the trepidations in my mind,and the unstructured chaos that comes with it.
light seems surreal,almost uninviting, like a mirror that shows you your shortcomings,disturbing ;a gremlin of sorts..
life fills you with hope,only to be replaced by dismay.
the cycle goes on...

human...

the quaint feeling of joy was liberating..
the world seemed bereft of pain,of vanity.perfect to the point of being imperfect...
too beautiful to look at...
and then it was over.
joy left like like a brisk visitor , only to be replaced by a vague and sombre companion.
it felt good to be human again......

hope

"hope is the deadliest of weapons,because it cuts both ways."
the mortal wounds inflicted last night continue to bleed.
the cuts are far too deep,refusing to heal any time soon.
all boiled down to last night.the stakes could not have been higher,the performance not more fortitudinous.yet when the curtains came down there was only one king,and only one pawn.
the sun retreated hastily, a spot ashamed by what it had borne witness to.
night ascended and all was black again,flogging the anomalies that so make us human.
yet we chose to be more....

hazy and dull

the exuberance of youth has slowly been replaced by the monotony of adulthood.
nothing like what it promised to be.i have waited for this,now it horrifies me to no end.
where has the it gone..??the one i cherished.i miss what i left behind.the traces i burnt.
the sanctum of my life has been ripped of its deity.
my silence is mine and mine alone. it haunts me.
the pain refuses to subside....