Musings, facts and fun

Let me start off with some little incidents: Scene 1: Hyderabad Airport  I am waiting for a bus back to home with a friend after seeing off my mum at the airport. Lost into conversation and in my eagerness to board the bus, I leave my wallet on a bench at the stop. I get into the bus, racing to grab a window seat completely oblivious of the non existence of my wallet. After a substantial 20 mins in the bus and my blissful ignorance, the conductor comes in to announce that he received a call from the stop that somebody left a wallet there. This freaked me out as I realized that the somebody was me and the wallet had all my bank cards and IDs. Since the bus had already travelled half the distance, I was told to wait at the destination stop for the next bus to arrive. After another half an hour of anxious wait, the next bus came and didn't fail to disappoint: the driver was carrying my wallet wrapped and taped carefully in newspaper. Scene 2: Madhapur Hyderabad My friend co

It was an unforgettable day for me. I handed off 50 bucks to the auto-wala and hesitatingly entered the college gates for the first time only to be welcomed by an amazingly never seen before spectacle. “Is this supposed to be a place to study!” were the first thoughts to cross my mind as I saw a bunch of guys sitting in a pool of smoke in a corner, gaudy graffiti written on the cafeteria walls and girls promenading in the smallest of clothes. I was myself in a total chaos at that moment, wearing an old pair of jeans and a loosely fitted kurti iced with unkempt hair, a combo which left absolutely no stones unturned in making me out of place. I silently gruntled at my parents for having me admitted in a place where apparently only the creamy class studied; or seemingly caroused for that matter. “Why did dad get me admitted in this madhouse; how am I going survive a single day here, let alone 3 years”. As I walked past looking from one side to the other; I was taken aback by the eno

Everyone is a writer.. Yes everyone!..You, me, Shakespeare, Rowling, Beatles, even the illiterate house maid who comes every morning and has practically no knowledge of the three 'R's. Don't be surprised, because even as your eyes are scanning this piece of text, the nerve signals flexing inside, the brain attempting to interpret what you just read, your hands probably scrolling the mouse; there is a untiring part in you that is writing, and mind you, it just writes all the time; etching on to a book every moment... Everyone is an author of a book of their own lives; albeit few write better than the rest. When a baby is born God gifts him a blank book and a reed to cover it with. The number of pages and the length of the book may be governed by the Almighty but the contents are the baby's. Though he hasnt been to school yet, but the child keeps on updating the pages everyday as the world unfolds in front of his eyes. It has been observed that generally the books

Adding one of my sketches here; I used an image from the internet for reference while working on this one .. It took me around 3 hours to complete; but its always refreshing in itself to be involved in seeing things take shape on paper :)

"I am going to Tracy's place dad; don't wait for dinner!" Jamie cried out from the patio before shutting down the door noisily behind him. Phil smiled briefly as he got seatead next to the window while watching his son pull out his bike from the garage underneath. He knew the phase of life Jamie was going through very well. He, too, had been in the same juvenile days; which though were ages back, yet seemed to have happened just a while back. Those are the times when a man is teeming with energies and rebellion; his desires being wildly turbulent. While his mind got teleported to his heyday, he chuckled at the thought of the craziest things he did in his life; traveling almost half the world with no money; falling in love with Amanda, the prettiest girl in town; pestering all his teachers all the time; and how he drank and ate uncontrollably. It was young blood after all; passionate, energetic and untamed. With numerous memories of his youth chiming i

"I am going to die" .. Thoughts continued to jolt in Jay's mind as tiny droplets of sweat trickled down his forehead; gently circling his eyes only to fall off the edges. His fists were clenched, eyes closed hard and mouth reciting a prayer. . He had been tied up at his torso to a chair for the last 8 hours and he was already on the verge of breaking down. The only thing he desperately craved for at the moment was to get out of the shackles. His eyes now looked frantically in search of an opening, a hope. There was a small window located about 3 feet from where he was tied but the view outside managed to only sicken him. Scared to death, he yearned for fresh air. He had been given a stale sandwich as lunch but he hardly cared about it. He wanted freedom. He wanted to live and to breathe. Food could wait. There are some moments in life when you feel pathetically helpless with your future appearing bleak. Jay was going through one of those disastrous ti

Before I say anything, lets teleport ourselves to eavesdrop on a couple of conversations; which will hopefully get the point across the table: Scene 1: Two newly met male colleagues discussing about their families. Person1: “Hey, is your wife working or not?”. Person2: “Naah, she doesn’t work. She stays at home.” Oh hell, not working! What do you think she is doing round at clock at home? Who magically cleans the dishes spotless, puts the baby to sleep, irons your clothes, prepares steaming food waiting on the table when you go back from your work? Why does working only have to be stepping outside the four walls of the home? If you are 8 hour leased to your company, she is working out as a 24*7 employee though within the home. Scene 2: Two ladies meet after a long time at a restaurant post college. Both of them talk for hours telling each other about their lives and careers. One of them explains her situation to the other: “I am good for nothing. After a

Following is a story that was conjured more than a year back; only making its way to the blog today. I owe my vote of thanks to Rohit sir for the discussion we had that laid the foundation of the idea. Sitting at the window pane at twilight with a cup of hot tea and peering across Mumbai landscape used to be Natasha’s favorite daily regime. She felt rejuvenated staring at the endless expanse and the infinite commixing of the sky and the sea, which used to act as her daily dose of new energies and ideas.  Moving in to the sea side apartment was one of the best decisions she had taken. It was always a relaxing experience to glance out and find kids playing in the nearby park, couples walking along the cobblework, and the spectacular setting sun. But, that day when she was in dire need of a good story for her magazine ‘Diva’, the sickening sight outside pathetically failed at generating ideas and her mind was all void. There are some days when the yellow dwindling light

As I write these words, the nation is reeling in a shocked mourning state. The nation’s capital has seen yet another brutal incident of a young girl being assaulted on a fateful night. Such shocking incidents apart from bringing into light our weak laws also question the very vitality of our own social fabric.  Where do we stand as a society? Have we collectively failed in creating a social fabric where people can live without fear, or breathe freely for that matter? If that night was fateful, there are million other nights where households across the country witness physical and sexual assaults within the confines of their walls. There would be thousands of women who would agree of having been molested within the four walled privacy of their own homes. There would be a million others who just bottle their emotions by accepting battering by their husband a mundane daily affair. Unfortunately today we live in a society where the hapless victims of crimes are more