Crash

The Art of Dying came to me whenever my flight landed in Mangalore...my home town, my birth place, the place where my memories are, the place where my heart belongs.

You see, Mangalore airport is located on a hill top which has been flattened to accommodate a runway , and therefore it has a shorter than usual runway, almost 1/4th shorter.

A pilot once told me that the shorter runway on top of the hill made it some what tricky to land. 

You could always  feel the added violence whenever a plane landed in Mangalore.

The deceleration was harsher, the brakes were more jarring and the tires screeched louder than in other places.

At these times, I used to wonder what it would mean if the plane crashed and if we all died.

Would I be ready to leave everything behind? 

In a world of uncertainty...am I still clinging on to things that I have no control over?

And It finally happened.

Although not to me...

and I feel sad.

My heart feels heavy even though the loss is not mine.

If I thought I knew you...

Is it possible  for one human being to achieve perfect understanding of another? 

We can invest enormous time and energy in serious efforts to know another person, but in the end, how close can we come to that person's essence?

 We convince ourselves that we know the other person well, but do we really know anything important about anyone?

Body cells replace themselves every month. Even at this very moment. Most everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories.

It's the same for you.

You are no longer the same person you were a few days ago.

You are a stranger.

And I don't know you any more.

Not knowing you is like feeling a pain, like a frozen knife stuck in my chest.

 An awful pain, but the funny thing is I'm thankful for it. 

It's like that frozen pain and my very existence are one. 

The pain is an anchor, mooring me here

A little bit of both...

Men who pursue a multitude of women fit neatly into two categories. Some seek their own subjective and unchanging dream of a woman in all women. Others are prompted by a desire to possess the endless variety of the objective female world.

The obsession of the former is lyrical: what they seek in women is themselves, their ideal, and since an ideal is by definition something that can never be found, they are disappointed again and again. The disappointment that propels them from woman to woman gives their inconstancy a kind of romantic excuse, so that many sentimental women are touched by their unbridled philandering.

The obsession of the latter is epic, and women see nothing the least bit touching in it: the man projects no subjective ideal on women, and since everything interests him, nothing can disappoint him. This inability to be disappointed has something scandalous about it. The obsession of the epic womanizer strikes people as lacking in redemption (redemption by disappointment).

Because the lyrical womanizer always runs after the same type of woman, we even fail to notice when he exchanges one mistress for another. His friends perpetually cause misunderstandings by mixing up his lovers and calling them by the same name.

In pursuit of knowledge, epic womanisers turn away from conventional feminine beauty, of which they quickly tire, and inevitably end up as curiosity collectors. They are aware of this and a little ashamed of it, and to avoid causing their friends embarrassment, they refrain from appearing in public with their mistresses.

Buzz Kill

It seems like have lost my energy to write these days.

What I have been posting recently were stuff that I had written while on board my last ship.

Today I discovered that I had nothing left that was decently finished enough to post.

If you are waiting for me ...please don't...I don't know how long this phase will last.

But I'm also having the time of my life! 

I feel like I've just come alive!

So it might be that I have completed this phase of my life, and have started the next one...where I'm equally passionate in doing what I find exciting.

Having said that, the writer inside me will never die...that hidden person will make his comebacks from time to time when his need will be most felt...most felt by me, not you...sorry...I was never much of a mind reader.

But I'm still here...cheering for you, as always, as usual...

So don't forget...and keep on walking...for our journey of an infinite miles has just begun. 

Fatso: Ortho-Tyranosaurus Rex

Mom read something on the net about a new health crisis, and sent it over to me.

Orthorexia!

People who are too healthy or obsessed with being too healthy!

These are the very same people who go out to a restaurant only to eat salad, and top it off with a mouthful of mineral water, while you're having the entire menu as the  entree`.

Then they give you that look...the look of concealed disgust and pity...a pity that goes 'tch tch' in your face.You know that although they wanted to, they  haven't yet said 'oink oink' to your face yet.

These are the same people who advocate vegetarianism as a cure it all for cancer, constipation or a colorectomy.

These are the same people constantly yak nonstop about exotic food supplements and wonder drugs with miraculous effects.

I mean how do you know if  Yohimbe is something like Nintendo?

These are the same people who stuff exercise advice down your throat when you are happily noshing on a bag of doritos.

The high and mighty and the know it all...with nauseating self righteousness around them.

Oh how you hate them.

Oh how you want to stuff butter chicken down their throats and see them enjoy it, and get fat, and cry bitterly.

But mom, am I an orthorexic?

Sure I'm a picky eater...but that's because our entire family is made of picky eaters.

Sure I'm a vegetarian...but only because the rest of the family is vegetarian.

Sure I like to exercise...But that's only because the rest of the family exercises a lot.

Sure I like to read about healthy living...but that's only because the rest of the family does it, all the time.

Mom...do you think...I have become some kind of a Monster...Orthotyranosauraus Rex...a tyrant king orthorexic ?

If so, know that you have created this monster...a monster with sculpted pecs,bulging biceps,washboard abs,teardrop quads and glutes you can bounce a coin off.You are responsible.Yes YOU!

Mom, I may be a monster, but don't I deserve happiness? 

Then stop accusing me of taking supplements and protein shakes to grow into a grotesque muscular hulk that you so readily despise.

For the last time, I'm not taking any supplements...They are expensive crap that will ultimately damage the body...C'mon Mom! you know that I know better.

Fatso:Six Pack Sharukh

Six Pack Sharukh

----------------

Indians have a very strange concept of personality.

A friend once said,"I once saw Fardeen Khan in the airport.Whatta grreat personality he has!"

I asked him to elaborate, and he said,"you know...he's big and looks muscular even in a suit"

I then realised that when they say that someone has a great personality, they are inavariably talking about physique or body.

Indian leading actors these days want to be percieved as eye candy.

Before that,they were more of 'Cotton candy' (I'm talking about body structures-shapeless and full of air).

So leading men and hordes of other lesser men regularly pump iron, pop pills,vitamins and supplements,chug protein shakes and gush sweat , all to achieve a great 'Personality'

                    (Salman Khan...known for his great personality rather than his acting skills)

                              (Hrithik Roshan )

     

            Leading men of the yester years now in comparision look like real,everyday men who come in all sizes and shapes.Dharmendra,the leading strongman of yester years or even Dara Singh , the real life wrestler turned actor did not have the kind of 'personality' that the modern steroid induced hulks with 'grreat personality' have.

                       Nevermind all the ridiculous infomercials with peppy,muscular caucasians speaking in corny dubbed vernacular, peddling overpriced exercise equipment of dubious quality and construction and equally dubious and preposterous  advertised results, Indians were never so hooked onto six packs until Six Pack Sharukh came along.

/div>

                                    Six Pack Sharukh and his Dard-e-Disco, where he gyrates topless with a bevy of scantily and garishly clad reed thin european girls in phantasmagorical locations to near meaningless lyrics was an instant hit and struck a blow to the buoyant egos of all flabby males of India.

These males then took an oath that they too will sport six packs like Six Pack Sharukh.

But the very next day most of them forgot their oath.

A few enrolled in gyms and after two sweaty and exhausting sessions never entered another gym again,and a few more with morsels of determination left in them, found out that the battle of bulge was never won in six weeks, like the infomercials promised.

And I kept wondering what the big fuss was all about.

I mean, while the rest of them discovered six pack sharukh and his washboard abs,I've had a six pack ever since sixth grade.

                    Ok,It's like this...If you've something all your life, it really doesn't mean much to you.

                I mean, if you have steel blades coming out of your fists, then you'd use it scratch your ass as well as cut your steak.

(ok fanboys, I know wolverine does not have steel claws,he had adamantium claws only after he was experimented upon by the military)

But what was the big deal? Six pack,schmix Pack ...who cares?

I don't...coz I already got them !

Fatso : The day I got called a Fatso!

Fatso

-----

What's your BMI? asks dad urgently.

Why,I ask.

Son,dad advises me over the telephone,it's time you lost some weight,now that you've become fat!

 

But dad!,you haven't even seen me for the last eight months! How can you possibly know that I'm fat...does my voice sound thick over the telephone? Are my words too heavy? Does it weigh heavily on your mind when you think about me? 

Huh? 

Huh?

Well...I heard people talk...

Dad,Dad...I'm 176 cm tall and weigh 68 kilos.Now You calculate my BMI!

Son, denial is not just a river in egypt...it's natural for the mind to refuse to acknowledge reality,

particularly if it so distasteful as obesity.The first step is to accept that you have a problem.

No,No! I'm not fat...end of discussion.

Ok(sighs)...Just be careful with what you eat and exercise once in a while or so...we're going to have a serious discussion on this when you come back.

Bye (click)

Was it true? Am I in denial?

Had I become a Fatso?

Fatso! FATSO! fatso! FATso! fatSO! fATso! FatSO!

Fatso: Fat Men Weigh Less!

Fat Men Weigh Less

------------------

In a twist to the classic Milgram experiments which studied the concept of ethics and morality, researchers devised two hypothetical situations.

The subjects had to choose between letting a bunch of people on a rollercoaster plunge to their deaths or pull a lever and divert the rollercoaster onto another track and save their lives,but at the expense of a person who was tied to these set of tracks.

After much deliberation and hesitation,people of different ages and diverse backgrounds repeatedly chose the lesser of the two evils and saved the bunch of  people on the rollercoaster by pulling the lever and diverting the rollercoaster to safety and thereby killing the man who was tied to the tracks.

The scenarios were repeated with different parameters:criminals on the rollercoaster;nuns on the track,your loved ones on the track, your neighbours on the rollercoaster etc.

But for the purposes of this essay,I'd like to highlight what the researchers found about ethics, morality in relation to bodyweight.

Whenever there was an obese person tied to the tracks,people were far less hesitant, far less reluctant to take the decision to kill him (i.e save the people on the rollercoaster),than when there was a person of normal bodyweight.

One can draw the conclusion that fat men did not carry the same value as normal men.

Fat men did not weigh heavily in the minds of the people who pulled the lever.

Ironically one weighs less on the mind when he is fat.

Or to propound our premise ; Fat Men Weigh Less!

Teen Patti

Rating:
Category:	Movies
Genre:	Mystery & Suspense

Teen Patti : What were they teenking of ?
Seriously disappointing movie.
Poorly written story, poorly developed suspense,poorly executed.
Ben Kingsley is totally wasted in the movie.
Even the concept of using mathematics in teen patti is wasted.
Bah! What a waste of time!

Hijack

I just found out that my mom has found out about my blog.

For four years , she knew nothing, except that I spent an inordinate time on the internet.Like any parent she thought I was mostly surfing porn.Then I had to confess that I wrote.

You write?

About what?

Well...this and that, and generally about everything...

Can I see it?

NOPE!

But now, thanks to a cousin (yeah you!) she has opened her own multiply site and started reading my stuff.

Bad Idea!

Now she likes to sit down and discuss stuff that I write.

Bad Bad Idea!

Luckily she has a very short attention span and she tells me she simply skims most of it and reads the replies to the posts.Yesterday, she was talking about some video reply to one of my posts that I myself had not yet seen.

GAAH !

Now she's on Facebook.

The funny part is her friends are actually my classmates and shipmates...

Most of them who have never seen her.

Double GAAH !

Now she wants to take over the world!

1 in 5 Americans Admits Peeing in Pool Or Why I Don't Go Swimming Anymore

One in five people admitted to peeing in a swimming pool, in a recent poll of Americans.

In fact, the survey conducted by the Water Quality and Health Council found that almost half (47 percent) of the subjects admitted to one or more behaviour that contribute to an unhealthy pool.

Here are some of the survey's other findings:

• About one-third (35 percent) say they don't shower before entering the pool.  
  
• 63 percent were unaware of illnesses associated with swallowing, breathing or having contact with contaminated pool water.  
  
• Less than one quarter consider the frequency of pool cleaning and chemical treatment (23 percent) and even less (16 percent) think about chlorine levels to maintain clean pool water.

"Swimming is a fun and healthy activity for old and young alike. Proper water chlorination helps protect swimmers from germs that can make swimmers sick," said Michele Hlavsa, an epidemiologist in the Division of Parasitic Diseases for the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). "But swimmers also have role to play in maintaining a clean and healthy pool. Unhygienic behavior brings germs into the pool and makes it harder for chlorine to do its job.”
 
The survey was conducted online between April 30 to May 3, 2009, among a national sample of 1,000 U.S. adults, using the field services of TNS Omnibus. Results were weighted to reflect the adult population based on U.S. Census figures, including age, gender, geographic region, household income and household size. The margin of error for the study was plus or minus 3.1 percentage points.

The Water Quality & Health Council is a body of independent scientific experts, health professionals and consumer advocates who serve as advisors to the Chlorine Chemistry Division of the American Chemistry Council, an industry trade association.

The CDC urges pool users to follow these six tips for healthy swimming:

• Don’t swim when you have diarrhea.
  
• Don’t swallow pool water.
  
• Practice good hygiene: Shower with soap before swimming and wash your hands after using the toilet or changing diapers.
  
• Take your kids on bathroom breaks or check diapers often.
  
• Change diapers in a bathroom or a diaper-changing area and not at poolside.
  
• Wash your children thoroughly (especially the rear end) with soap and water before they go swimming.
  

Unclean water can lead to r3ecreational water illnesses (RWI’s) —  diarrhea, respiratory illness, and ear and skin infections. Children, pregnant women and people with compromised immune systems can suffer from more severe illness if infected. According to the CDC, these illnesses are on the rise. Between 2005 and 2006, 78 outbreaks were reported in 31 states — the largest number of outbreaks ever in a two-year period.  Close to 4,500 people were affected.  
 
To check that your public pool is properly chlorinated, the Water Quality and Health Council recommends the use of portable pool and spa testing strips, easily purchased at pool supply stores and discount retailers, in addition to trusting your basic senses.
 
"A smelly pool is a dirty pool," said National Consumers League President Emeritus and Water Quality and Health Council Vice-Chair Linda Golodner. "Look for water that's clean, clear and blue. Check for tiles that feel smooth and clean. Make sure there are no strong odors. Listen for pool cleaning equipment. Using your senses help you recognize the difference between a healthy pool and one that needs cleaning and treatment."

Pressing a Button and making things go Beep.

This was the first time I ever voted.

Yeah, I know...I was never at home whenever we had elections.

Voting was held in SDM Law College, five minutes from our home.As I was parking my scooter, an aunty smiled at me.I couldn't recognise her.So my smile was hesitant and half-formed by the time she moved ahead.

Once inside, I found out that the entire college had a placid atmosphere. Only a handful voters had turned up at twelve in the noon.The rest were smiling and courteous electoral officers and other officials.The sight of Government officials smiling and courteous and helpful was inapposite but certainly welcome.

I gave them my entry chit and stood in the line with about ten people in it.They checked my card, announced my number (816) and another official ticked me off on her list.I went further up the line, where I had to show my Voter ID card and sign an attendance register.Further ahead a gentleman asked me to extend my hand.I extended my right hand, to which he asked my left .He marked my index finger with indelible ink that was produced in Mysore.The ink left and ugly dark line on my finger that would not wash off for months.The gentleman next to him reset the EVM (Electronic Voting Machine) so that I could vote.The EVM itself was a few feet awayon a wooden desk, and covered by a cardboard enclosure.

Voting itself was an easy task.

The EVM is a simple white plastic box which displays the list of candidates and their symbols(for the illiterate)There was a  red light and a blue button. I had  to press the blue button against the candidate of the choice and a red light  appeared on the pressing of blue button and there was a sound like whistle  which indicated that the ballot was cast.

That was it.This was what voting was , for those who cared to vote.

'Pressing a Button and making things go Beep'

This was supposed to be exercising my right.This was my part in deciding the future of my country.This was my role in bringing about a change in things that I don't like about now.'Pressing a button, and making things go Beep'

Felt like what I did was trivial,insignificant.It felt ridiculous.

Most of all, It felt like I should do more.

More than just 'Pressing a button and making things go Beep'

Exercise your power to Vote!

 

Tomorrow is the elections.

Although I've turned eighteen a long time ago, I could never vote as I was never around, never in the same country to exercise my rights.

This time though, everything has come into place...the planets have aligned favourably,the wind is blowing from the right direction.

So I'm going to vote this time.

 A good friend of mine had stumbled upon a theory that practically explained the unexplainable...well at least it made it palatable.

Stephen Hawking would have died to know that someone could come up with a theory that was so simple, so elegant.
Freud would have waltzed across Vienna in joy for his question was answered in such precision and sparse economy.

Four words that would make history (and her-story to all feminists)
Four words that would resolve the irresolute.
Four words that needed no proof just as we need no proof of the invisible air we breathe or  for that matter the non-existent god we believe in .
Four words that spoke the truth.

Four simple words that got you going  AHA!

"All women are crazy"
Proof:Just look around you.

                   Recently my uncle stumbled upon another universal theory, which again defied conventional thought, yet in its simplicity reduced everything to ground zero and explained the unexplainable.

This theory did not deal with women, but with snakes in the grass and wolves in sheepskin, and it made your choices simple and the bitter truth just a bit palatable.

He said "Ellaru Kallare.Nimage yaawa kalla ishta awaranne aaike madi"

He said this with reference to the upcoming elections.
Simply translated it meant "They are all theieves...simply choose the one that you like"

A cynic forever, he said that it didn't matter who it was.They were all theives.Simply chose which one you want to rob from you.

He says further that this applies to everyone...mega corporations,brands,politicians,god-men et al.

Kurt Vonnegut said"Humour is a way of holding off how awful life is"

or making you realize its inevitability.

"They are all thieves...you're gonna be robbed anyway.So why not get robbed by someone you like?"

 

Its a Mirror Neuron Thing.

 I can't watch people kissing.

Especially when someone gets kissed in the neck.

It feels ticklish down my neck.

I immediately close my eyes and recite the multiplication tables of 13.

I'm very ticklish.My achilles heel is stupid.

Its a mirror neuron thing.

Are you a man or a mouse? (Check out hitler cat!)

Its downright humiliating when you are being taught lessons about Manhood by a woman.

Apparently apart from cockroaches I'm petrified of dead animals.

Strangely enough,dead people don't faze me.I have a morbid fascination with death in human beings.In fact I experience cognitive dissociation and dispassion.When I see a dead body My mind is immediately off the dead body and upon imponderables pertaining to the soul,karma and other heavenly concepts.

Overfed cats pose a significant problem in urban areas.

A cat is a cat is a cat.

And that is that. (sorry I have a compulsion to make words rhyme, often for no reason)

No one or nothing can change their feline nature.Their keenly honed senses and instincts cannot be denied.Their feral nature cannot be denied.Even when fed, they have to hunt simply for the thrill of the hunt itself.

Our cats usually bring in dead mice and rats and on one occasion a dead bat!

Remember Hitler Cat?

 

Yeah! All cats are Hitler cats...

What I mean to say is, all cats are sadistic in nature.Believe me, I've had 8 cats so far.

My cats usually bring a mouse half-dead and then toy with it till death.Chubby, one of my cats,is usually the one with the brightest disposition amongst all,but when she catches something, then she gets transformed into a bloodthirsty monster!

The torture has to be made into a spectacle.She will wait with the half dead victim until we arrive and then she will lead us towards it.What happens next is a very grim danse macabre.She will repeatedly toy around with the captive and inflict just enough pain to keep it alive, and then finally when bored, simply eat its head(so that its really dead?), crunching and munching all the way leaving the rest of the body to us.

You should witness the twinkle in her eyes when she has caught something.She is proud, and she wants to show it.She usually stashes her victim in some prominent part of the house where it is easy to be found and then she'll lead us there.She has left dead mice on my bed,the kitchen table,the living room sofa and on every carpet of the house.

Of course, I cry for Mommy every time,

I'm scared of the mangled bodies, the headless corpses of rats and mice and other dead creatures.Stephen King's 'Pet Sematary' comes to mind.                                                What if the apparently dead mouse springs back alive for one last hurrah with yours truly?

Brrr!

Today, I found another dead mouse...but Mommy wouldn't help.She said that it was time I became a man.

I tried to explain genetics...Mom...an 'x' chromosome and a 'y' chromosome combines and results in a man...and then cultural and gender stereotypes are imposed unfairly on the child during vital stages of development and the child's true potential is lost...OH MOMMY MOMMY I DON'T WANNA DO IT...PLEASE MOMMY...PLEASE!

Nope! Didn't work.I can't melt her heart like I used to when I was ten.

Since it was in my room , I had to clean the mess...she said

...like a man, she added at the end.

Yes I did it.

It was scary but I threw the mouse out after poking it several times to confirm its death.

I was a man.

Yay! (is it manly to say Yay?)

But minutes later  I was screaming like a girl when Chubby carried the same dead mouse inside the house once again.

Don't ask me why I don't smile or talk these days.

I'm coming home.

I think.



I had a nasty fall today.

I fell face first.

I think.


A total blackout after which I realized that.

I had broken both my incisors.

Had to be rushed to the doctor.

Who shook his head and sent me to the dentist.

Who yanked out both my front teeth.

She had exceptionally strong forearms.

Her kids were inside the clinic hovering around the chair and peering curiously.

My driver told me that I looked like Dracula.

I hissed at him and said 'I weel dreenk your blaad'

He laughed and clapped his hands in glee.

I look hideous.

I took my extracted teeth in a plastic bag  to be kept as mementos.

I guess my new year's resolution of getting a girlfriend will not be unfulfilled this year.

But I'm coming home.

With a few missing teeth.

Now Don't ask me why I don't smile or talk these days.

This is why.

Calling all Monkeys

My friend once surmised that mangalore was going to hell because a certain movie was in our favourite theatre for a very very long time.(Was it 120 days or was it more?)

He was joking of course, making an astute social commentary of sorts and displaying his keen and well honed sense of observation at the same time.



Let me remind you once more.

Rama attacked lanka with an army of monkeys, a vanarasena.

Of course, they could talk, walk on 2 legs, perform feats of strength and intelligence far superior to that of today's primates, but they were monkeys nonetheless.



So what is the difference you ask?

Well, in those days even monkeys did not attack women.

Even monkeys thought that it was unethical and even cowardly to beat women.

(I'm making this up. I don't believe for a minute that monkeys were among Rama's army or that they were particularly non-violent towards women)



Hey!

Calling all fascists! Calling all fascists!



Where are you going to draw the line?

Today you don't want women to drink.

Tomorrow, you might not want them to drive.

On some other day, you might deny their education, because frankly speaking,women today are getting too smart for themselves...right?



Go on...shake hands with the Taliban!

They too want women in burqas and other physical and metaphorical and metaphysical shackles.

Congratulations to you modern monkeys!

The Taliban sends their warmest regards form the depths of their cold hearts to you for going on the right path,which by the way is the path that they follow.They congratulate you, for the
actions of the vanarasena have done them proud.

But they'll kill you infidels just the same...because you still remain infidels.



When my friend made that joke, it was funny, because, He was not going to attack the theatre the next day with a bunch of his friends (If he did, then he probably forgot to call me) He will never attack beliefs and actions contrary to his own, because he is secure and in peace with his own unwavering core beliefs.



Every time I read the news, I wince in pain, shame and embarrassment.

Attacking churches, communal violence in the recent past, and now this...

Mangalore? Nah! It's a nice place to stay. I used to tell people confidently.

I'm not sure anymore.



What you monkeys haven't realized is that one man's Garden of Eden...I'm sorry...

Forgive my use of Christian religious terminology.One man's Ramarajya is another man's version of hell or naraka.

One man's jannat is another man's... you get my drift don't you?



I know, some of you will disagree, but I call for an irreligious movement.

Cast away your religious shackles and let them not define who you are.

If you want to be a pacifist, you don't have to be a Buddhist...you just have to make up your mind to be a pacifist.

If you want to be good, don't let your god decide it for you.

Decide for yourself.

If you want to blow up people, don't do it for your gods.

Do it for yourself. (But please reconsider...blowing up people is not nice...maybe you can play Halo 3, and not hurt anybody in real life)



What good is Ramarajya in today's context?

Does your vanarasena want Mangalore or for that matter the entire world to
regress back to Tethrayuga?

Whatever it is , you've just halted Mangalore's progress and thrown her back by about 20 years ...into the past.



People have an odd notion about the past...somehow they believe that the past was much better...this notion is usually due to amnesia, lack of historical knowledge and wishful thinking.

C'mon people...the past was not better.

There were no telephones,penicillin,loctite,3d goggles, aero planes,chemotherapy, internal combustion engines, satellite TV, polyester or even sliced bread!... not even a band aid for your boo boos.

The best time is the present. Really...because there is nothing else like it.



Even then, what about Ramayana do you want to emulate?

Is it Dasharatha's lust driven blindness for kaikeyi or his obsession with
his eldest son Rama?

Is it Rama's blind unquestioning obedience drove a prince and his wife and
kids to the woods?

Is it Rama's deception in killing Vaali?







Perhaps, what you monkeys really want is more Sitas to burn in pyres to prove their purity.



Rama lost his self respect the day he let Sita jump into a pyre.

Sati is still in practice.

And I'm brimming with disgust.



Calling all monkeys, calling all monkeys!



Stop attacking soft targets.

A few unarmed and isolated civilians minding their own business are not worthy of your might and spectacular prowess.

Even Rama fought a ten headed Ravana!



What I suggest is that you fight the real villains here.

Try someone your own size!



You don't want women to drink? Fine!

Fight the powerful liquor barons who push and peddle legal and illegal
alcohol, backed up by influential politicians.



You want old world morality?

Fight the shady underworld nexus that controls prostitution and drug
supplies and sales along with arms supplies.



Do you want progress?

Fight rampant corruption.



Fight fear.





Fight for freedom.

Fight for empowerment.



And stop hitting women.



P.S

Surmise (verb): Infer from incomplete evidence.



Holy shit! I just realized that I'm a pagan by definition.



Pagan (noun): A person who follows a polytheistic or pre-Christian religion
(not a Christian or Muslim or Jew)


Nah! I'm just your regular garden variety atheist who is going to hell after
death for forsaking all gods. At least It'll be toasty warm down under.

Dammit!

Mangalore is in the news for all the wrong reasons.

My memories will haunt you

Those familiar footfalls that echo,
resound and reverberate,
quickening your pulse
are not mine, but they once were



My memories will haunt you...



Those endless susurrus of sweet nothings whispered,
as soft lips brush lightly
against your earlobes
are not mine, but they once were



My memories will haunt you
like a cold winter's breeze...
but I am your creation,
just a figment my dear!

a fragmented figment of your imagination



And those nimble fingers that trail
and trace your curves
and linger, so longingly linger
are not mine, but they once were



My memories will haunt you
like a cold winter's breeze
that touched you in places,
long forgotten out of existence



You reach out, arms outstretched
to touch, to hold,to surrender
But I fade away, rendered to wisps of past memories
and imaginings long forgotten



And My memories will haunt you
like a cold winter's breeze
that touched you in places, long forgotten out of existence
and surprise you with a shiver and a smile



And those caresses that tickle and make you blush,
those gentle tweaks that makes you flush
and shudder, Ah! Those wonderful guilty pleasures
memories that you still treasure
dissolve and crumble as you wake up...

and all you are left is with my memories

and my memories will haunt you
like a cold winter's breeze









p.s. I miss you too.

The Best Romances.

 "The best romances are the ones you never had"