Tuesday, 17 April 2012

Slaughter . Murder .

We visited a slaughter house as part of a reality-check trip from our veterinary college .We bore witness to the slaughter /bleeding of an animal .It is by far the most horrific , deplorable , nauseating and disgusting sensory and emotional experience I have ever had . To watch the animal being thrown to the ground , tied up by all fours and having its neck hacked at without any stunning left me shaking . To be fair no one was forced to witness this and it was voluntary , yet I wanted to bear witness to how it is practised in reality in our very own city (very different from the perfectly sanitary and hygienic methods propagated in our textbooks , supposedly carried out 'HUMANELY').

If we humans were out in the wild, had to chase down the prey and fight tooth n' claw with it to obtain a meal , it might have been understandable to maintain the natural order of things . Yet ,here we 'civilised humans' have animals packed off to slaughter houses , so as to provide that packed meat carton at our neighbourhood cold storage, so that we the end consumer don't have to bear witness to the atrocious , merciless , terrible act which I just did .What should have been said is ,'FORGIVE ONLY THOSE WHO KNOW NOT WHAT THEY DO' . Well, ignorance can no longer be an excuse .

Tuesday, 21 February 2012

A Life Gone Astray

Born in the dark bowels of an alleyway ,
With no crib for a bed .
Heralded by not just one but by the entire repertoire of twinkling stars ,
yet barely a tear at my funeral shall be shed .
With a belly full of worms ,
I'm neglected and left for dead .
Mother's love lost early
(such dastardly times).
Born a stray , I demand to know ,
''I'm consigned to this life by whose damn design ??''
Forsaken by mortals and by all powers known n unknown,
my siblings lie strewn : lifeless and cold.
Run-over , starved , kicked around or stoned .

Born just as wonderful as any other young one,
Even so , while with my eyes-yet-shut I lay,
through no fault of my own my life went aStray .
Cute fluff , intelligent bright eyes , a quirky one-eyed patch:
all that and more just doesn't suffice ,
because I'm born on the streets I'm inferior in Their eyes .
Mongrel , street-dog , nondescript , Indian-dog or stray :
call me what you will , but show me no disrespect just because of where I stay .
Nurse me back to health and find me a caring home,
With tonnes and tonnes of love I shall repay.                    

Lets Live Together and Precious Paws Foundation work for the welfare of homeless , orphaned puppies by rescuing , fostering and subsequently finding them permanent loving homes to live in . To adopt ,foster volunteer , sponsor or donate u can reach them at :

Lets Live Together : Phone: 9986413916 http://www.facebook.com/LetsLiveTogether?ref=ts

Precious Paws Foundation : Phone: 9742543510 http://www.facebook.com/pages/Precious-Paws-Foundation/323173584393532?ref=ts

The Voice of Stray Dogs works for the rights of these strays, lending a much needed loud voice to the voiceless . Do check out their blog http://www.strays.in/ http://www.facebook.com/strays.in?ref=ts http://www.facebook.com/VoSDAdoptions

Monday, 6 February 2012

Castles , Closure , Catharsis and Clearing the Cache

It is rather peculiar how someone could have gone in a mere 7 months from building castles in the air with a Goan to building sand castles at Goa [the Goan having vanished into thin air]. Lofty dreams GROUNDED ? A capricious world indeed .

For a kid who prided himself on his logic and ability to reason out things , it was certainly unsettling to be fed purely on emotions . A pessimist-turned-optimist who turned cynical all over [ does the glass even exist ?!]. Where better a place for true perception to be attained than standing grounded , ankle deep in sand , looking out at the sea [Closure with a capital sea?! ;)].

The book lies shut under the glow of a table-lamp .It is only partially thumbed through ; I may never know what the rest of it reads . The cover of the leather tome still never fails to amaze me . I pause for a moment , run my fingertips across those familiar inscriptions on the cover , dreamily remembering the hours spent admiring it . I examine the once sturdy binding and nod my head in disappointment at some of the now loose leaves . Allowing myself a whiff of the delicate odour given off by the sheets , I lose myself in a reverie : a recapitulation of the preface and four-and-a-half chapters I had read . With heavy footsteps and a knot in my throat I carry it to the bookcase . Ascending the rungs of the ladder to the very top , I proceed to stand on tiptoe , stretch my arm out as far as can go and place the book on the highest shelf . A place of honour for a work I once cherished . The dust on the shelf is disturbed into a cloud . A violent cough is induced and my eyes turn moist and misty [surely brought on by the dust of course , cos as you know big boys don't cry! ;) ]  Steadying myself to avoid tipping right over, I then climb slowly down the ladder and walk away from the bookcase fighting the urge to take one last look at the volume with just one thought in my mind ,'' Well too bad for her , because there's this amazing book with(in) me too that she had begun to read, but shall never get to complete.''

Chagrin. Closure. A cenotaph . Carte Blanche.

''Shit happens'' , I once said to a pal . ''Don't worry soon enough someone will come around with a pooper scooper!'' , she replied. That was certainly the most amusing and perhaps even the most helpful line said to me over these tumultuous months. Hope is a funny thing with the power to destroy you at times , while at others it can piece you together like nothing else can . Pooper Scooper , oh Pooper Scooper where are ye ?! [waiting for you to come along and scoop me off my feet!]

While I await your arrival , this lil peasant boy shall try to fashion himself a suit of armour and shine it as bright as can be! I shall then practice the walk , shoulders held high , the gait of a noble knight . Through it all I'll just hope that knights-in-shining-armour haven't been completely sidelined [by vampires with sharp canines!]. Considering that times have changed , I'll proceed to sit back and wait for a damsel to come and rescue [or atleast inbox!] me.  *hint hint*  ;)  

Now , I'm off to build myself up from scratch . Wish me luck [or atleast the right array of circumstances!].

Construct. Change.

{ @ Calangute beach , Goa...built along with Amulya}

Sunday, 8 January 2012

Pencil to paper

A pencil shading portrait I had drawn of a friend about a year back .Was rather pleased with the outcome! :D

A pencil to paper ,
An expression of my appreciation
A stencil of She-who-meant-so-much ,
Infused with a sincere adoration .

Cheers ,to what was !
Cheers , to whatever shall be .
Even as all the greenery is lost and the whole globe thaws,
A friend that was , shall always be in need .

Bridges need not always be rebuilt to cross the turbulent stream ,
a dinghy that even barely stays afloat will do just as well for me.

Saturday, 7 January 2012

''All lives end. All hearts are broken . Caring is not an advantage , Sherlock''

That's what u call a dialogue!

If you haven't already watched any of it's episodes , you really ought to give the new BBC Entertainment series 'Sherlock' a try . It is a completely new age Sherlock Holmes story that's truly brilliant . Didn't ever expect to watch Sherlock slapping on nicotine patches in the place of his traditional pipe or tapping away at a laptop / PDA for that matter! Being one of those guys who spent many a day flipping through The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes as a kid , I'd expected myself to be aghast at what I thought would be an utter desecration of the work (much like the recent Sherlock Holmes movies, which thanks to the action-packed sequences and impressive acting skills portrayed could be considered to be quite fine flicks ,yet still leaves you wondering why they bothered to use the name of Arthur Conan Doyle's detective at all!). Surprisingly I found myself extremely appreciative of the twist to the whole story . It is just four episodes in , so it's certainly not too late for you to start following it . It is even being shown on television here in India at about the same time as the release of each episode :)

House MD, you've now got competition !

Tuesday, 27 December 2011


There one moment , gone the very next .
Transient joy , fleeting 'love'.
Ephemeral interactions ,short-lived warmth.
Fickle-minded affection, caring withheld .
Friends made , most are lost .
Respect's gained , rarely does last:
For its soon covered over by shard upon shard of frost .
If all is but transient , then so shouldn't be pain ??
I ponder , Oh I wonder , When cometh a bout of smiles again?
Hope , I beg thee , just Don't make me wait in vain.

Wednesday, 14 December 2011

Shake your tail feathers!!!

It's a misty morn , yet the sun shines bright and warm :) so chirpity chirp and shake your tail feathers !! If you do have sharpened talons or beaks ,you can use them solely to draw in the sand . You bustards (No its not a typographical error , its a species of bird!!) ought to point them elsewhere, for on a day that begins with a smile there is little you can do to hurt me :)

Thursday, 1 December 2011

A Ravishing Time at St. Joseph’s Boys’ High School

 I was asked to write a short piece about our beloved school for a monthly newsletter back when I was in 12th Std , here it goes ...

'' The prospect of receiving an education at an institution like St. Joseph’s Boys’ High School with a hundred and fifty years of glorious history and with great footsteps to follow in, was admittedly truly daunting and awe-inspiring. With the likes of Rahul Dravid, Rahul Sarpeshkar, Sabeer Bhatia, Robin Uthappa , J.V Pillai, Nikhil Chinnapa, Jimmy Anklesaria and many more renowned personalities having graced the corridors of this institution during their formative years, one couldn’t but help sense that a ‘yellow-brick road’ to a glistening future is etched into the stars of each one of its pupils. Thus with mighty hopes, great expectations and a measure full of awe, I stepped into the institution for my 11th grade, prepared to settle in for a pleasant ride. Gosh, what a ride it has been! A “journey” would perhaps be a more appropriate term: a journey of growth, a journey of personal development, a guided tour of the hallways of knowledge and even so a journey filled with fun and cheerful mirth! I sensed that two years at this institution would change me forever, and a seer couldn’t have predicted it any better, because just two years later the little lad that had set out on the ‘journey’, has grown into a young man: one capable of braving the currents and tides of the massive ocean we call the real world.
         ‘Fide et Labore’ (Faith and toil), our school’s motto, truly sums up what we are encouraged to do: to strive forward with “hearts within and God overhead”, and with the determination and the will to work hard to reach our goals. One of the major driving forces of the management and the teachers (who we fondly refer to as “chers”) has been seeking a true all-round development of the pupils. ”Discipline” is another keyword of our beloved institution, an aspect our teachers have meticulously stressed upon. It’s a word that is thought to send shivers down any pupil’s back but is in fact seemingly welcomed here at Joseph’s since “we couldn’t break a rule that doesn’t exist right”! On a more serious note, the qualities of discipline and self-reliance that are instilled in us, almost as a part of the curriculum itself, are a great character builder: a sturdy, orderly foundation to build our castles/skyscrapers upon.
         With the recent conversion of the ISC programme into a co-ed system, the management has commendably managed to seamlessly integrate the fairer sex into the previously all-boy school. With a principal who’s much in tune with the changing times, and inspiring teachers who have a close rapport with the pupils and who will continue to mould them into impressive beings, the school will surely rise to even greater heights and continue to nurture the voices of the future. We the proud ‘Josephites’ promise to do our little bit by going ahead to “Ring out the battle-call of Duty” and “Unfurl the flag of Faith and Toil” (excerpts from our school song), and in doing so hopefully further win and spread our school’s renown. Speaking for myself, this institution has been all that I initially expected it to be and much more. It has been a god-send for me by certainly providing one of the best possible environments for me by helping me to learn and to grow; by teaching me the essential lessons of life and by letting me have a fabulous, memorable time as I went about it! ''

Friday, 18 November 2011

Wear my heart on my sleeve

A few years ago I got this almost perfectly heart shaped scab as a result of an unfortunate encounter that happened to involve taking a motorcycle for a spin(literally!), jamming the disc brakes of the pulsar and kissing the tarred road!!
I'm certain most of y'all have heard of the phrase 'wear one's heart on one's sleeve' (used to refer to someone who is to known to expose one's feelings or intentions; to be frank or impulsive) . Apparently I wear mine on my palm!!


Garden of Blistering Sand

Sand in the eyes, Grit between the teeth,
Visibility’s dead, the Fury’s unleashed.
Out in the open stood preposterously foolish me.
What bade me to expose my soul, my being??
Out in the open, out at Their mercy:
out to be battered by Forces umpteen and Faces unseen.
What hope inspired this maniacal folly??
…the misplaced confidence of a foolhardy teen?
Whereforth came the impression that I’d come out unscathed and in whole??
...once everyone’s extracted their chunk of meat: their merciless toll.

Parched of spirit and in being; Parched, meek and withering
For I’m stranded in a lonely desert (nature’s very own guillotine).
As hope dries up in the blazing, shimmering Heat,
Every drop of rudimentary might drains out of my charring meat.
Trapped in a land where perhaps the sole luxury
Is a speedy funeral :a burial 6 feet beneath.
My own private graveyard. A Memorial, Ha, a Memorial for me?!
…What need for a tombstone for the forgettable and the unworthy??
Consigned to the grave in this abode of sand, I sense, I feel
The World’s burying its Blunder, its Folly: flawed spineless me.

As the elements suck out what’s left of this fleshy heap,
Blood’s running dry, there’s no tears to weep.
The consequence of trying to brave the World (raving ruthless).
Why chose I to battle the raging Tide,
One governed by ‘The Survival of the Shrewdest’.
Sand in the eyes, Grit between the teeth,
Visibility’s dead, the Fury’s unleashed.
Trapped in a land, a garden wherein can be sowed,
Solely the seeds of Sorrow and Misery.
An expansive garden of blistering sand entwining and devouring me.

Bled alive to nurture Their succulent leaves,
Fed upon by Them all, Preyed on without mercy.
Can They not just let a rotting cadaver Putrefy In Peace??

Thursday, 17 November 2011

Christmas dog :)

Had done this lil fella using oil pastel crayons a few years back :)

Raw Jagged Edge

A melody abandoned midway-
The notes linger briefly: unheard .Futile.
Lifetime’s accomplishments: a miserable pittance.
To be termed a ‘Life’, a lack-luster pitiable existence?
With no deeds to speak of, no cause for praise,
This frail existence, a monotonous march to its end does forcibly tend.

An unfinished story-
A drolling voice cut out.
Words left dangling midair: unspoken .Futile.
The tale may just have only begun,
Yet there were many a thing that couldn’t be undone.
A pause…not merely a pause. A groan; a gasp. Silence.
The continuum’s snuffed out. The tale’s met a sudden premature end.
Time not to ponder, time not to repent.
The beat, the pulse is suppressed, is deadened.
The tune’s cut out, end sawed off with a vengeance.
Life’s story, Life’s song: its melody now has a raw jagged edge.
What’s that? Who knows? Who cares?
Why worry bout something that’s gone, that’s dead.

Even angels will fall from the sky

Heightened senses or instinct , what ever it was ,
caused the birds in a flurry to take to the sky.
Dogs , kittens and hamsters- hair on end
cowered with perked up ears , warned by their instinctual fears .
Yet we silly humans , 'evolved' as we are
fretted solely about getting to work on time.

So when it did hit , clueless we stood,
yet not for a very long while, 'cos as the ground shook
we lay prostrated and buried under a pile . Stunned n' shocked.
Our vision soon blurred and as we lay sprawled
while we were still down , we just had to be kicked around .
so on us our erstwhile possessions piled up high .

We build on shaky ground our lives , our homes
Wishing , Willing , Believing , some Praying
that they stand the test of time .
We embed into the tiles a mosaic of Memories and Aspirations ,
infuse our will into the walls ,craft it with our Perceptions.
We build it up , brick by brick : bound together with love,cement and mortar galore.

Yet when the time comes ,
the very beams with which we built up our dreams
cave in on our living lie .
for when the ground shakes , not only men fall,
even angles fall from the sky .

When the tremors stop , and the plates rest still ,
its only the angels with their wings who can fly .
Mortals , yea we mortals , crushed under the rubble we die .

Foe or Friend

War : unavoidable say some ; some say make amends ,
battles and bloodshed - universally condemned .
To the victor goes the spoils ... but...To what end??
While one man loses a limb , the opponent loses himself .
Regret...Is it regret if you'd do the same thing all over again?
Peace may come slowly , but do bridges rebuild themselves?
Does it matter who wins when the wounds alone we must tend ?
For every future visitor,is met at the portal with a questioning glance,
''Halt!WHO goes there , FOE or FRIEND?''

Introspection Of A Hapless Mind

Through the hazy blur of dazed thoughts,
Penetrating the fog of war that selfishness has wrought,
It’s a sight, an apparition that leaves me perplexed and confused.
The world as I knew it: It’s lost its charm, its beauty and its lure.

With a whirlpool of jabbing thoughts,
I’m in a disturbing confusion of sorts.
A vile mindless concoction
Of unfulfilled hopes n desires exasperated.
Like sands at the mercy of erosion,
A hapless mind battling to withstand corrosion.
The future, our purpose -
Worthy are they of contemplation?

Numbed by the screams of countless suffering souls,
A gash through the heart for all the pain and bloodshed that is shown.
Shackled within the tight bonds of a calcareous shell,
I now look upon my world –A world on path to impending hell?

Looking upon the tumultuous world that I now see,
I truly wish to be let out; unshackled; set free:
Free from the hold of this stricken netherworld,
Free to stroll through the halls of a land devoid of rotting cadavers.

Through the hazy blur of dazed thoughts,
Penetrating the fog of war that selfishness has wrought,
The world I now see, it isn’t as I knew it to be before.
Its sad, but its true, that world is NO MORE.

The Ballad of Gitu the Brainiac

Tra-la-lala; Ti-da-di-dum,
Filled to the brim withe reeking sarcasm,
Gitu the Brainiac , onward she goes,
First comes her nose n then the rest follows!

Beneath her fair brow is visible to all
The burning of the midnight oil,
The result of many a sleepless night of pain n toil,
In her struggle to become the brainiest of them all!

Gitu the Brainiac: paranoid n’ hysterical,
With a brain that’s truly insatiable.
From within this lil beast attitude overflows,
As she has an ego as bloated as her ‘lil’ Mangy nose!

I wonder Why?? I wonder What??
What made us call her “Lord Voldemort''?
Maybe its her magnificent aura which is truly awe-inspiring,
Or maybe its jus her persistent queries which are really very tiring!

Pure notes n tones of sweet delight does flow,
From within the lil beast melodious music does pour.
Gitu the Brainiac, n now the singing-sensation,
Coz in this field AmyLee is her only competition!

Tra-la-lala; Ti-da-di-dum,
Filled to the brim with reeking sarcasm,
Gitu the Brainiac , onward she goes,
First comes her nose n then the rest follows!

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. ;)

The Conjurer of My spirit and of My soul

As a new day dawns,
I begin to feel like a lowly pawn:
a pawn in the excruciating  game of life;
it was then that the Lady gave me the courage.
the courage to do battle and to face every strife.

The noble Lady said,
"u have the might of a knight";
thus I did not have the heart to give up the fight.
she said it with such conviction, that she made me ponder
on how a lowly pawn could become a true wonder.

with the Lady as my guide
and as she stands by my side,
I start believing in myself,
And break out of the calcareous shell
free from the tight bonds of  an inferior life.

Like the meandering brook ,
fearless and unstoppable that flows swiftly through the land,
The Lady with her virtues is always at hand.
Always there to inspire,motivate n encourage,
everything she lays her eyes on will surely flourish.

The Lady calls upon your spirit and makes it mighty and strong,
she'll leave u feeling fearless,n yet enthralled.
there was a boy who was lifeless n maimed,
she changed him forever n will probably do it again.
that boy was I--Now no more just a lowly lonely pawn.

 All magic is but an illusion , for all that is conjurer up or pulled out of a hat , can also be made to vanish with the flick of a wand.