रविवार, 12 अक्टूबर 2008

Before an empty paper i sit and mull,
the world sits empty
their pussy their hands
laughing with bare teeth
masturbating beneath a sheath.
Everyone's growling-n-howling
ladies are out shopping
gents rubbing pink panties...

who i write to, who i write for
who has come, who would ever come
inside the womb i'm gonna hide
fuck you'all... now no more slide.

शनिवार, 4 अक्टूबर 2008

Like a thunder in a rainy night,
Who doesn’t know, what t’show, what’hide.
You seem to be asking every moment,
Baby, you wanna stop, or take’ride.

You never open the door by my side,
Never step out to say, goodbye.
Never see a drop when I cry,
How could it go when you always keep me so dry…

I know I am gonna miss you
And it’s going to hurt…but I am sure to do
I’m gonna teach myself how to fly
And catch a cloud to drift away

O baby don’t pretend,
You wouldn’t die
The pain will pass through…

Pull over here and bid me adieu.

मंगलवार, 15 जुलाई 2008

who am i?

ALOHA! I am Animesh. I was born on March 16, 1982, to a middle class banker's family, in a small town Sindri, near Dhanbad, in Jharkhand, India. Like, any other middle class family, my family, too, was debris of dreams; dreams that were conceived but couldn't be realized; and as in legacy, I was offered to carry them further. And I did, as they lay my path there-on, as they shaped my destiny there-after.

Dreams beget dreams! Slowly...slowly, the treasury manifolds like an assortment of positive and negative battles, sometimes like slow realm over dust, sometimes like sudden rout after long-fought success. Dreams kindle hope and hope kindles life. Life is an itinerary with hope as its mile-stones, at some you lose, at some you win ...and you keep going on and on, conceiving one after another, betting one after another until among those obvious, you find a dream – of much more importance, of much more significance than rest in the flock – suitable enough to bet your whole life upon and then, you decide your destiny.

A layer of dream upon the rubble of dreams! Looks bookish! But this is exactly what my life is all about.

A man has one destiny. And so is mine!

Destiny is a protocol, a destination that emerges when you shape your dreams against the evens and odds of the universe; an adamant idea that you cease to abandon; the ultimate reward you put yourself at stake for. Destiny is one's own religion, one's own faith, one's own cause to surrender. It is the definition of man. he is unique if he makes his destiny unique.

None other than an engineer can really understand the multinomial equation of the destiny, the ever increasing entropy of the dream. I do, not merely because I am an engineer or I believe that I am something extraordinary sort of, but because I chose to pursue such, to understand such.

The world has two types of people, first: a conscious activist, who chooses his steps and thus takes the onus of the consequences, second: an unconscious actor, who lets others decide what should he dream of? Which one is better? ... I can not hear a single voice. Quot homines, tot sententiae! No two men can think alike. It is exactly this fundamental instinct of humans – to pretend to differ, to deny others – that has caused a society like ours' to evolve and to weave us with its multiple forking adherences. Some people choose to govern while some are chosen to be governed. Governance is not of people but of ideas that few have chosen to bestow their faith upon, thus, have colonized the fundamental lineament of humanity.

Who am I then? The former or the later... I don't know. I really don't know.


Perhaps, I am an object of the super-class; who has inherited all the public qualities, by default, that he bears at the core of his existence; who has grown inured to the gloom of captivation ...gradually after begetting, executing, and terminating... and then again resurrecting; who is nothing but a sound replica of the template code – generated by the routine process of cut-copy-paste.

Or may be, a "human" – a byproduct of a retrogressive alchemy; a settled and quite grain of the finality; a manicured boulder abandoned by nature; an ethnic perennial ruined off by the age-old ethnicity; a kind of a biological fauna, heavy of his past, light of his future.

Or rather, I am a parasite, feeding myself upon the generous humanity and the complacent society; stealing my share of sustenance against their simplicity, against their complexity.

I don't know!

I may be many. I may be one. Like a cone that remains faithful in one frame but suddenly changes its shape in another – not in a deliberate attempt to equivocalise the truth, but in a normal tendency to cease candidness, to keep from simplicity - I too may be deceitful. I don't want to become a victim of "TRUTH"; neither would I like to fall prey to the manly strictures. So, I leave it to be answered by my destiny.

It will take time, I know, but I am certain that eventually it will answer. Until then, I will wait. Will you? :-)

Sarkari Naukri

A sarkari (governmental) job secures you, protects you from asperities of life!

They said this. She believed this. Time passed by, I remained confused. She remained determined to get me a sarkari job, I to chuck off any such predicament.

She wanted security, I cherished insecurity, believing that “the best comes only at extremes”, and “extremes only when you have something to lose” and security stagnates you, leaves nothing to your fear, unless you go all the way round.

“DRDO! Amazing na...” She proclaimed - when we met after the long final semester – when I had told her about my campus placement scenario.

“...you didn’t take its test.” She turned red, gaping at me as if I were a thorough moron, incapable of understanding security, love, or life. Nothing! Capable of nothing, I was just a moron.

“No. I didn’t want to.” I said straight-forwarded, stole my face from her constant stare and fixated my mind over the Chinese noodles.

That one job, made me lose her. That one job, one sarkari naukri. And you say it protects.

I didn’t opt for it, meant I didn’t understand it – and didn’t at all value it: security. Everyone out here is on a constant hunt for security, for safety, protection, defense, guard, shield. Except me. I abandoned it and weeks later, was abandoned by her.

She made it to a sarkari daftar (Government office) today. Must be happy!

I am happy for her. I want to share it with her, the way I could have, only if things weren’t changed in the following years.

She is secure. She got what she had envisioned to get, of course via me then, vicariously, and now on first hand. I was useless then. I am useless still.

What I want...I don’t know. Do I want her?

No. I can’t want her.