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This is the story of a man who felt the seasons wrong.
He personalized Mandela while the world FISH,
and read playboy neath a cross in his dorm.

The sun set on him,
while the rest heard a cuckoo at dawn.
And he chased the winds in his trunks,
snorkels on, in the eye of a storm.

He could only see while the world saw.
mounting a cantilever suspended midway,
he went up when they all settled down.
And this is the story of a man who felt the seasons wrong.

Trying for a date,
funerals he attended in white,
often asking for a hand to ballet,
searching for a pianist as the kin mourned.

He spent time discussing history with the Math professor,
while his mates chased their humps for the night,
once drunk, he gave the nuns, furtive glances,
all this, on the night of his prom.
Had to be; the story of a man who felt the seasons wrong.

Soaking in the dry breeze by the sea,
he scrutinized the summer chill.
Wondered how the sea approached during low tide,
and how people swam in Dolphin infested waters.
Procrastinate his then hectic Sunday schedule,
only to admire the snow melting off the peaks in December.

He often questioned Da Vinci's theory of evolution,
seldom, if Alexander's Monalisa was actually a woman.
They say he agreed to Laden's globalization,
in hindsight, was it such a bad suggestion?
Pay attention. Think terrorism.

They say he lived it out, while the world lived in,
Was this a curse or a distant hand bestowed up on him,
poor us, we smirked at the Earthified alien.
This is the story of a man who felt the seasons wrong.

Absurdity struck him in racing pawns,
so he took a deviation that was perfect,
and sarcasm saw the world in his innocent charm.
Alas, wise men draw parallel, too bad, only by retrospection,
It had to be no other way, considering,
this is the story of a man who felt the seasons wrong.

Bipolar Vision

A perfect circle is either a great beginning or a very bad ending,
normalcy prevails over tangents unlimited,
on every direction without a seam.

Sidelines seldom prove to be guiders, blamed to confine.
Limitless could be smothering, if its just space that all you seek.

A smile unleashes, when a right hand's in a right,
yet amazement rides the brow, at a wrong in wrong's delight.

Extremes sway on a path alike, conjoining, only to depart yet again,
salt is all that trickles, embodying everything that's bitter or sweet.
No pendulum swings preferentially, every saw is what you will see.

Not everything that shines is silver,
it could be gold, if not bronze you see.

If I could sell myself, I would not be worth it at all.
Buy me, if I come for free.

Ohhhhhhhhhh PT!

This post is a dedication to all my friends and many other students that I may not know of, who are struggling to get their OPTs. If it is any respite, with just about a few months to go, many more of us are surely gonna join this wagon. With two of my room-mates also involved in this struggle to get work authorization, the cunning writer in me needs to go no further than Boston to seek a few more examples, and there you have it, yet another post. Through this post though, I want to convey that I shall pray for the people that I know of, and send out a few anonymous requests, for there is no shortage of takers. It's also a request to all the readers of this post to wish good luck to our budding desis. When things work out eventually, we are all gonna laugh it off some time in the future, then why not try it now. Hope this brings a smile on your face, which most often is 'optional'. For once, the choice is yours.....Peace!


I thought my life took a turn,
banks on the road, banks by my side, secured
that it was time to let the rubber burn, rest assured.
A card in my pocket, jacketed heart, all hands off guard.
Rickety Honda gone long, my Jag was on the road again,
even a blind soul could dig it; my life was on the fast lane.

I thought I had hit the freeway, so I took the GPS off,
and just before she died, she uttered slyly : "exit right!"
Now I am back on the road again, with directions all,
with nowhere to go, on roads to take me where I want.
Shaking my head, I stare at the map again,
even before I could realize that I was lost.

Looking back is never easy, so I took the rear view mirrors down,
like begging to a beggar for a quarter, life's made me a clown.
I never asked for a red carpet underneath my feet, only ground,
then you tied my legs and asked me to clap,
only on my hands when I walked around.

My teacher said in school, that I had a long way to go,
only little stood between me and the elusive dream,
my choices, a piece of paper, and my fire within.
I chose it, racked my brains, got my offer-e- joinin',
I burnt, ash is what's left of my competition,
I stomped the paper then, and it has come to haunt.
I hate it, when she is so god damn right, her taunt!

My vivacious self through a boulevard of flowered streets,
I was made to stretch out my arms, to hunt for my charms,
and just when I thought a petal came down to peck me on the cheek,
I found a thorn with no rose on.

Now this is a situation like never before,
Like I know what's 911, but don't have a phone to call,
I know what needs to be done, just don't ask me how.
Walking on the street, a poet saw my mind on my face,
he stooped low, slid his glasses on to his nose, to say,
"You know how to shoot a rifle, just don't know how to take an aim!"

They call it 'Optional' , and you 'Practically Train' for it all,
Now the 'Option' ain't there no more,
and here comes the buzzer: duty's call.
With nowhere to look, I look up to see who sees it all,
"I wanna go to Vermont, but couldn't you wait for the fall?"

The Savage Mountain?

This is the fastest post that I have written so far. It took me about 20 minutes to compose. I guess it would seem obvious to you once you browse through. Don't know why, but I think am going to remember this post for quite some time.

Cold tar, of a combination bizarre,

in shades of Grey, intermittently black.

Displaying the moods of nature, of terrains, of paths of cry.

Ten feet of width, and people pass, with little regard,

for what lies around. Prayers; subtle, fearing a shroud.

Huts, of a combination bizarre,
like splattered bursts of civilization,

proofs of a unified individualism,

disparate yet bonded, in a manner vague.

Of jewels against a green slumber,

like gems on a big fat belly,

reflections of what lies above,
twinkling in the distance, quiet and naive.

Paths, of a combination bizarre,
now extinct, like wrinkles on an aging face,
sword-marks, a blueprint: narrating footsteps,
exaggerated by the moon, pacified by the Sun's galore

They say the mountain still comes to life at night,
to reach out to its remains, to heal its self.
Little do they realize, amidst their honey dreams,
After a gruesome day, its the right time to sleep.

Pain, of a combination bizarre,
swaying by his ridges, she whispers in to his ears,
may be an anecdote, a few resilient words,
while he sits there triumphant, bruised yet amused.
Emotions of the inexpressible, an occasional slide,
as he tries to shrug it off, all this, bearing the human load.

Wise men say that I am closer to the heavens,
I thank the gods for the absence of the 'human touch'.

Sharad Kanwar Raj
September 21, 2008

To really love a woman!

To really love a woman
Just once you let her know, and then step aside,
Load the reel and leave her to let her feel
She may act confused, will not accept
even though its natural to be bemused.
If you can bear around to watch and hear
when she lurks around to seek a logical reason.
Explaining all this while; her situation
and makes you feel like you really stand a chance.
You know that you really love 'a woman'.

To really love a woman
To understand her - you ain't gotta know it deep inside
as impossible as it may seem, there's always more, though, out of sight.
Hear every curse - in multilingual words
N' take away the handle - when she wants to fly
Then when you find yourself uttering apologies, lips down,
lyin' helpless with folded hands in her arms
You know you really love a woman

When you love a woman you don't tell her
that she's really wanted? Tactical blunder.
When you love a woman you tell her that she may be the one
she needs somebody to assure her
that your misery is gonna last forever
cos she wants to be your only comforter
So tell me have you ever really
- really really ever loved a woman?

To really love a woman
Let her hold you, by the collar
till she knows that you can't take it anymore
Then wait until she sets back your tie,
and confirms the fear of your unborn children in your eyes
You know you really love a woman

Just tell me have you ever really,
really, really, ever loved a woman? You got to tell me
Just tell me have you ever really,
really, really, ever loved a woman?
If you have ever loved yourself,
how can you ever really love a woman?

Fictitious friction!

Sand embraced your velvet feet,
as you lifted your wriggly skirt.
Wave by wave, you cut, to enter the ocean,
like glitters on a colorful sheet.
There was a time when we were all greased up,
and now all that there is, is friction.

Sticking lips on the remains of your lipstick,
coffee never tasted so brewed ever before.
Like a fireplace concealed with in me,
winters never seemed to matter anymore.
There was a time when we were all greased up,
and now all that there is, is friction.

You stood by the pavement, while I parked the car,
gazing with an assuring smile, as I rolled up the glass.
And now there is no glow, just a few lights surround,
with a diminishing warmth, a cold seat, I drive around.
There was a time when we were all greased up,
and now all that there is, is friction.

We sought each others' attentions,
with gestures frivolous, garish actions,
exchanging glances in a crowd of thousands,
eyes stuck like magnets, creating their own lines of sight.
Polarity's reversed, friends reckon,
three feet of distance or one street across; ignorance's dawned,
There was a time when we were all greased up,
and now all that there is, is friction.

Sitting on a couch for one, with a bottle of wine,
sipping to eternity, raising toasts to cloud nine.
going red, beating thud, smiling to your name,
engulfed in a sound of whispers, both, silly and lame.
There was a time when we were all greased up,
and now all that there is, is friction.

I hope my words still ring like a melody in your head,
that my absence reminds you of the dreams that we bred.
Do you turn around in sleep to hear things long unspoken?
Tell me that you smile and cry in a moment of two emotions.
There was a time when we were all greased up,
and now all that there is, is friction.

Now I remind myself to breathe,
to live off a breath, that was once taken.
Give a meaning to my strides,
to assert a purpose, not long back broken.
There was a time when we were all greased up,
and now all that there is, is friction.

Sharad Kanwar Raj
August 27, 2008

And when the lights go out!

Walking past the solo neon light,
casting suave shadows on the cobblestones,
breathing against the sound of silence,
puffs of smoke on a cold winter night.
And when the lights go out, I will seize you.

Lane by lane, marking your footsteps,
following the scent of your body,
leather on staddles, leaning against poles,
glancing eyes, seeking a moment's loneliness.
And when the lights go out, I will seize you.

Let you shiver in my presence,
let the fog form formations in your mind,
while you wrap around your hands,
feeling the chill of an evil around.
And when the lights go out, I will seize you.

Silver spreads across your face,
as it beams neath the moonlight,
like splitting into halves; the night.
Lines drooping on your face,
you know the moon's fading.
And when the lights go out, I will seize you.

Your English walk, ain't there anymore,
make-up's on the floor again, like you care,
vanishing panache, attitude; verve no more,
trembling, like a leaf, curling even more.
And when the lights go out, I will seize you.

Sweating on snow, gulping fear,
pushed in to the blackness, you are.
Growing still, waiting for the inevitable,
you know it, you know it all.
And when the lights go out, I will seize you.

I wish I could hold it back; the desire,
now it speaks for me, simply taken over.
Giving in; playing in to the hands of the devil, I am.
You have played it enough, the table's turned.
And when the lights go out...........................

Sharad Kanwar Raj
August 26th, 2008

A look down the Aorta!

For people who know me well, are aware that I am passionately in love with Mussoorie. I just penned a few lines some time back, but in between applying for jobs, which I did for the most part of today, I did something that kept me going through the usual company profiles; completing these lines. Though this could go on and on, I am too excited right now to publish this. Considering that I am running a slight temperature today, I am happy with today's efforts, in terms of my work and more so, for churning out some nice lines. Hope you all like it!


I can feel the sun, heating up the floor underneath my feet!
Soft warm winds with rays fighting the printed linen, to seep.

Trees on toes, in vain; not tall enough in standing!
Streets lengthened by a red lining, shadows straightening!
May be this is what is called 'lining up the broadway"!
To me, just another day in good old Mussoorie, quaint and gay.

The Quran's being opened yet again, enchanted in reverence.
Agarbattis fill the air with the ever so recognizable fragrance!
A sound that needs no voice, a smell little insecure.
The morning namaaz in sync with the temple prayer!
Allah meets Ram, 6000 feet above the ground.

Sherpas; steel bodies, benign expressions, circling town.
Breathing beedis. True to its last stretch, a constant grin.
NewYork, Paris, Mumbai,Tokyo? Gun hill chalna hai saahab?

Winding paths, known yet unknown.
Daily nuances, mundane chores, still cause a rush of blood.
As I stroll down, steps beg to speed, eyes popped out,
Looking to see, seeking solace, for once the future is a reality.

Turn after turn, familiarity strikes, anticipation satiated.
Panditji's grocery store, Omi's sweets. I can guess it all!
A sense of security prevails, my hills intact.
People love change, I am in love with the unchanged.

I follow water, down stream, trickling as it does.
Only it shares my exuberance, my passion, my love.
We communicate with our characteristic giggling,
holding virtual hands, it dodges its bumps, while I evade mine.
New waters, old friends, race to the finish this is, with two winners.

Eggs buoyant on boiling water, topped with salt and pepper when done,
Corn, coated in lime, honey and spices, freshly charcoaled, blackened.
I scuffle my coat, for a 2 rupee coin, Sun's beaming on Doon Valley.
Got to hurry up! For I know I have to bargain, before I catch a glimpse.
Telescopes don't rent out cheap, on a fine bright Summer morning.

Bauji, calls out the rifle shooting vendor. Haanji sir, yells the horselender.
Authoritative in my voice, I reply with a chosen dismissive response, local.
Persistence vanishes in to the thin air. The rest, as they say, is history.
I move on, with my hands in my pockets, city walk, amused, triumphant.

I realize relativity. No trace of speed of light around, but for my thoughts.
Engaging me in a seamless motion; stretching perspectives, contracting times.
The will to see life in a second, and all you have is a bunch of emotions.
I assort them, frantically. Time's of essence, yet another life's to follow.

Stopping intermittently, smiling profusely, childishly tapping the barricades,
I retrace my steps to 116 Landour bazaar, my ancestral home.
Bowing with folded hands against every alternate shop, is Kawarraj's puttar!
Sharing second glances, second greetings, but rejuvinated warmth.

Tandoor awaits at its harshest temperatures, to be fed yet again,
hands clapping against it, flour's been cast into a holy shape yet again.
I totter my way up the steps, comforting my demanding stomach.
Engulfed in an aroma of maa ki daal, yelling "Beeji, Rajma chaul banaye ne ?"

'Shot' of glory!

I think we all know of the news about a fairly simple bloke winning the first ever individual gold medal for India. Indeed, a moment to be very happy! Congrats and thanks, Abhinav!

What you reap is what you sow- It's true!

I agree with the title to a great extent when we talk of the current state of terror in India.In the wake of the current bombings, and the subsequent advent of these so called Indian Mujahideens, who have claimed the responsibility for the same, it may mark the beginning of a new face of reckless killings. I think the outside hand can only fan the proceedings, and glorify these misguided youth as martyrs. We may need bofors on our borders, but we definitely need some compassion with in our territories. I don't think this post is complete as I would like to add on to the ideas that I have tried to express..Let's see if I actually manage to add a few lines later.

Why blame the gun, when we supply the bullets!
Why blame the dead, when we didn't spare the coffins.
Outside hands, with strings attached; operating puppets!
On a podium of their extinct families, showcasing talents.

Let a few more scream their last,shed blood in indispensable blasts.
Let a few more perish, while you count your votes!
Spare none; send out your hounds, to immoral grounds.
Let them have a feast with cops, in government rounds.

Post the bombings,I know you invented a few terrorists.Kill them.
Suleimaan may be 12, Aashif 13. Did I mention they are Indians?
Nevermind! Threat's a threat, more so, if it gets you a medal.

Wipe them all off, before 'they' get you.
So what if you are oblivious to who 'they' are.
Rage demands no logic, mob's uniquely cogent.
Your sword demands blood, and that it shall have!

Did you rape, loot, floor a dozen?
Hurry up, don't you wanna join the CM's kaizen!
Gandhian state, Gandhian ideas, with essential mutations.

Respond, to whistles from both sides on the border.
You count the heads, while diplomacy tackles humanity.
You shall have your share, like it was taken.
Do as is told, oblige to the call of the Satan!

This game's fun. A Colosseum, you provide, we execute.
We scar, you train. Favor returned.
Poverty's rampant, trendy is unemployment.
Life's priceless! Guess what, it earns you a few cents.

I will do my time in hell. For you, let me ensure the the same.

Sharad K Raj,
August 6th, 2008

Paradoxically receptive nature of humans!

One moment, we gaze up, wondering why it should ever pour,
The very next, we sail out our boats in a puddle of mud!

-Sharad
August 5th, 2008

An incredible song!

As I stepped into my lab today, as a part of my daily routine; I turned on my radio and started listening to a nice Indian radio channel. I came across this song that I had heard quite some time back but I could not get my hands on to its cover, and I don't know what to say, I am just speechless. Its a beautiful rendition of Kabir's poetry, sung by Abida. All I can say is that you have to listen to it. I am very moved by the simplicity of the song backed up by the powerful voice of Abida. This definitely made my day. The lyrics are kind of tough to get, and I am trying my best to find them on google. I would really appreciate it, if anyone out there could help me with the same.

The ironical NRI!

A string of bombs to wake up the Indian in me,
Only rationality to make him sleep again!

-Sharad Kanwar Raj
July 29th, 2008

Hints of god!

Firstly, I thank you Vandita for sending a very beautiful picture in response to a rather feeble description of something that I saw. Also, I really enjoyed our little 'walk the talk' session.

Yesterday, on board a rickety Greyhound bus, I was fortunate enough to have an empty seat to my right and a nice goggled window to my left for the most part of my butt flattening ride from Rochester. I did what I love doing a lot, observing cloud formations. They may not sparkle quite like how a constellation does on a black canvas, but the perennial formations that they are, traveling with you, they can be much more expressive. I saw a beautiful sight yesterday, and though, I did not have a camera to capture it, thankfully, my mind has the original positive impressed on it. I shall use Vandita's pic to describe what the sight had to say to me. It was one of the most incredible things that I have seen in a few days. Though this pic does not have a Sun in it, yet I have used paint to mark the spatial coordinates of our powerhouse. What was incredible, was that the hole in the clouds quite identical to the one in the pic above, seemed brighter than the Sun itself. This ofcourse is governed by Physics, and has to be attributed to the fact that the Sun was covered in such a way that it could be seen, yet, as apparent as it may seem, it din't feel like the Sun at all, just because the spot to its right was a through hole that seeped in much more light than what was filtered through the gaseous waters. So though shouldering each other, the Sun's distance from Earth was its saving grace. It was indeed a fascinating sight. Nature compelled me to draw an analogy to this. I could not help but think that this would transcend beautifully into what we see and observe in our day to day life. What appears to be the truth might not be the truth after all. On a more personal level, reasons apparent to us can seem so obvious that they in that time frame appear to be the SUN. One other way that I could interpret this scene was that sometimes situations could be so overwhelming that one could fail to see the big picture. To some, this might seem uncomprehensible. To some, obvious. If you are one of them, you are lucky today, for I am just trying to look at the Sun, so enjoy the pic! :D.

Singh is King!

Finally, our parliament did give a nod for the nuclear deal, and am elated that we have embraced it. What's ironical is that 7 MP's from the BJP signed in favor of the present government. Wonder if the BJP would endorse an intra no confidence motion. Wonder if Brijesh Misra had a hand to play in this....His open support for the deal was a no confidence motion in itself for the BJP. Who cares if the MP's were bought, they can't be refrained from taking moolah for murders, riots, and god knows what not. Atleast we shall get the Uranium that we need, and that's simple enough. All the bureaucrats who want to talk jazz using the 3500 words in the GRE words' list, can do so, while we go out there and kick some real butt. As a common man, I don't know much about the intricacies of the deal, but being born in the nuclear fraternity, I know that you give these guys the required inputs, and they will give you power. No wonder, the Nuclear Power Corporation has been registering profits of 300-400%, consistently. Moreover, I love the comment that Mr.Singh gave out in a post parliament session; that Advani saab should consider changing his Jyotish. At this moment, I can't help but reiterate the famous lines; Future would not have forgiven us! (had we not endorsed the deal). Let's hope that the fast breeders accelerate our energy production rate like never before. God bless India!

An ideal rise, characterized by an ideal fall!

A flash spanning a life time,

inspired by a reminiscence of the future.

And seconds go by!

Endeavors; seeking to foresee,

Strains more buoyant than melancholy,

And days go dy!

Forbidded insecurities surface,

Actions take precedence over words.

And weeks go by!

Commotion seeks solace in a unified solitude,

embraces fathom to depths never so profound.

And months go by!

Conglomerated moments conspire,

Contriving a plot that's only unravelled,unspoken.

And years go by!

In illusion- dormant,

But the defiant perception has a tale to narrate.

And before you realize, time goes by!

NO...NO.....NO.....Keep practicing!

I admit it, I suck at saying 'NO!'. It's gone on for such a long time that I can not take it sometimes. Just yesterday, I confided in my adviser of my intention to take a few days off. His reply, " I don't care where you go, what you do, I need that paper!". And there, I knew it. I just turned in a draft a few days back, and infact, am still mending it. Before I could take a breather, I was awarded with another abstract, like a hard pat on my back. I want to publish, but not in this relentless manner. I sometimes just lack the capability to say NO, and I am mad at myself for that.

Perspectives!

It's interesting to ponder over how one would look at something if he/she had no clue about it; an object, a tool, a painting, creatures....just about anything। A funny incident happened with me just today that brought back some good old memories, when I learnt facts the hard way, and in retrospect; was much more fun, because when they did cross into my cognitive neurocells, they stayed there.Like, holding the cone while licking your favorite choco-chip and not the other way around. Also, not messing with the mixer's lid, while its in action, for you most definitely will end up licking the contents off your face( Lassi in my case!) . Just today, I and Ming, who's not only my lab mate but also a very dear friend, here in Amherst, were trying our hands at writing each other's name in Chinese and Hindi, respectively. While I felt that Chinese script was not only beautiful, but also a bit more expressive in terms of its depiction against the white backdrop, wherein the words demanded to be spoken rather than being read, Ming on the other hand had a very funny interpretation of my name. He coded me instead. 2129 is what I could be recognized as on Taiwanese streets, if I ever tried elucidating my name in Hindi.

शरद: 2129.

My awful handwriting can be held responsible for this, but I think its cool! With the state of patience commonly observed amongst people in this Binary world of 1s and 0s, if nothing, this denotation atleast gives us some more preferences. Thanks Ming! I have had people call me Sarad, Shrad, Shraad( this is the worst! :D), Sharaad (to which I ultimately gave in!), but 2129 is something I will remember for a long time to come. So girls, get over 007, 2129 is here to stay!

Proposed and accepted!

I am just too happy to blog today. The feelings of accomplishment and satisfaction are overwhelming. I think its just one of those feelings that can be felt. I don't want to take up the task to try and express what's in my head now, for I do not want to look back later and say "That, was an understatement!". I believe that some words sound best, unspoken. I could put Miss Universe to shame with my thank you speech today, but then, let's not even go there! The best thing I like about today, is that I have no negative feelings for anything or anyone; the hardship I faced, working alone, without a guide for all these months seems to have finally paid off. There's no sun brighter than the one I am basking under. I often searched for a feeling as to why would someone want to do a Master's. I guess I realized atleast some part of it today. As much as I would have loved my mom and dad to be in the room when I proposed, I am sure they can feel this excitement. Have a new zest today, to kick some more butt! To push myself one more time and see how it goes from there. Thank you all for your help, guidance, wishes, support and for just being there, even if just as a part of the universe which I believe does conspire every now and then. God bless!

-Sharad Kanwar Raj

Here I come, to propose!

Sitting down in this serene lab of mine in the basement of our department, I am quite tired, exhausted actually. As my code runs again for the nth time, I can't help but count the hours before my proposal would be over. I haven't had a break since my return from India, and I am so eager to take one right now. I defend on the 8th @ 12pm. So pray for me guys, and wish me good luck. Luckily,so far, work's gone on well, and a good proposal would be the icing on this cake.

4 α 4th?

I wonder with the gas prices hovering around the 4$ mark, would anyone really care if 2nd July was celebrated as the Independence day instead, ofcourse assuming the propotionality to hold constant, implying that you would have to shell out 2$ for a gallon. I would not care, for am neither an American nor a car owner; just another overworked, underpaid, hungover( from last night!) Indian grad student. LOL!

Potty power!

I am in the middle of a very crucial phase of my master's life, and look what I come up with। I have no idea what I was thinking, when I penned these lines down, yesterday! But I am sure, I
had a noble hand over my head when I did so. This goes out to all the parents out there who have, who are or who will deal with this affair. Hat's off to you! I can't help but remember our very rhetorical Hindi teacher, back in class tenth, who often said;
" पीपल पात सरिस मन डोला। "
May be it was just one of those moments! Try not being very literal when you read it, and you might end up enjoying it. For those who think this is shady stuff...hmm....well...ahem...nevermind!




Wake up, smell the potty!
Don't gaze at the clock,
Its not a time you want to see,
The ship's yet to dock,
Too bad.It may be a half past 3.

Wake up, smell the potty!
The dream's over,
time to get out of the rover,
what overtakes is a fragrance,
and god bless, its not of a flower.


Wake up, smell the potty!
A few swirls, even fewer rattles,
met with a louder whimper.
Adolescence, it wants to be pampered,
poor soul, all it bawls is for a fresh bowel.



Wake up, smell the potty!
A fight begins on a 6by6 pavilion.
Use it, your best weapon is oblivion.
For a change, the loser takes it all,
winner gets to sleep!


Wake up, smell the potty!

अलविदा अक्षय!

सबसे पहले तो ब्लॉग करने की ये नई व्यवस्था से मैं बोहोत आनन्दित हुआ हूँ! ऊपर से १० वर्षों के पश्चात् अपनी हिन्दी भाषा का उपयोग फ़िर एक बार कर्ने का ये मौका गवाना नही चाहता। बस अभी थोड़े समय पहले मैं अक्षय को उसके वाहन तक छोड़ कर आया हूँ। अक्षय अपने नए सफर पर निकल चला है जो सिर्फ़ जर्सी पर ही ख़तम नही होगा। अपनी नई नौकरी की आड़ में अब वोह एमहर्स्ट छोड़ चुका है। बस मैं यही बोलना चाहता हूँ की बोहोत अच्छा समय निकला है तेरे साथ यार। मैं याद करूँगा हमारी लम्बी बातें, या शायद मेरी लम्बी बातें। पार्टी (अक्षय) को मिलने से पहले मैं कोई ऐसे लड़के से मिला नही था। साफ़ नज़र आता है की लड़का बिज़नस वातावरण में बड़ा हुआ है। बात में एक ज़ोर, बोल दिया तो बस बोल दिया के प्रकार की एक भावना। पर ये सिर्फ़ मुझे पता है की पार्टी भी रोता है। उस बात के लिए माफ़ करना यार पार्टी, मैं भी थोड़ा आश्चर्यचकित हो गया था, उस दिन। मैं उम्मीद करता हूँ की मेरे घंटों के रियाज़ ने तुझे बोहोत ज़्यादा परेशान नही किया होगा। पार्टी के एमहर्स्ट में काफ़ी पन्गे हुए हैं लोगों से, कॉलेज से, पर जैसा भी है, पार्टी तू अच्छा आदमी हैं, और मैं ये मानता हूँ। अब आगे निकला है तो आगे ही देखना और खुश बन्दों/ बंदियों से ही मिलना, तुझपे उसका बोहोत फरक पड़ता है। लाल मास से दूर रहना और दारू पर काबू रखना, बाकी सब अच्छा होगा। इंशा-अल्लाह !आज घर जाने में बुरा लग रहा है, क्यूंकि पता है की तू उस सोफे पर नही बैठा होगा। ये भी पता है की आज कोई वर्क परमिट को लेकर नही रो रहा होगा। साथ में १०१ बारी 'जब वी मेट' भी देखने वाला नही होगा। पर जिंदगी की सबसे अच्छी और बुरी बात है की लोग आगे बढ़ जाते हैं। तो यही सोच कर मैं भी खुश हो रहा हूँ। नई शुरुआत के लिए शुभकामनाएं। ................................शरद।

Frequency for the right receptor!

Life's rather funny! Just when you think you are running out of options, it opens the Pandora's box. It does not spare me from feeling like a chimpanzee; jumping from one tree to another. But what the heck, as long as the forests are dark and deep, I am game for it! Just penning down some random scribbling.

Angel eyes; devil’s in disguise.

Suave moves; target’s close.

Locked, shot, and no smoking barrel

Prey’s down on a virtual ground.

7^th target desires to ascend,

Facing the arrow, he wants to bleed again.

Grip fierce, stance arrogant; he has time to defend.

Serenity personified, breathing gently, praising the cazador.

Staring at the unknown; waiting for the horizon while he can.

No wound, no scar, no blood on the tar,

Killer’s on the move again, no holds barred.

SOS’ disabled; the hunter’s unarmed.

The sweet pain of death, stone’s laid.