"Baba" called Asmaan to his father, "When are they giving me the books. I miss my studies already"
His father had a small shop of second hand books. Books don't die, he believed. They don't have a shelf life. People die. They die of poverty - hunger, malnutrition, illiteracy, unemployment, politics and flood. But books don't.
But he was proved wrong when flood stormed, like an unwarranted storm, a storm which gulped down everything like an ugly demon never satisfied of preying. His tiny heart seemed to miss those blotted ink marks of yellowing pages. The roaring water not only drowned his abode but also his heart which kindled a dream to soar high, higher than the cupid's arrow for he had heard his devotion to books attest - "the sky is the limit".
Ironically, the only thing he could look upto through the shabby refuge camp was a gloomy sky which held no promises. But he held on to the promises which comes like the same deluge inundating…
Your ticket has been confirmed. Seat no. 13W. Have a safe and a happy journey.
A part of the confirmation mail screamed at me. Why do they even attempt at writing the same "safe and happy journey" message to everyone. What is so happy about a journey, I thought.
My bus was meant to depart at 5 a.m from the terminal. I woke up much earlier than that. When you have ghosts of past haunting your dreams, the morning becomes the end of your darkness. The mind fears those monsters with such trepidations that the cobwebs of the nightmares have to be broken by the dawn of new rays, new hopes and new aspirations.
From the corner of my mind I can see those monsters seeking the darkness that I have been trying to thwart. "Thou shall not find light", they seem to say even in the midst of the morning light. Going to a new place would help me find my light, I thought and so did the doctor, with a bag full of anti darkness pills, concur.
It didn't take me time to pack my ba…
Why would anyone live in a clay barrel, when the riches were presented as an option to him? Why would anyone look around for a man, with a candle in a broad daylight when all he got were spineless morons? Why would anyone reject societal norms and beliefs while remaining in the midst of the society? Philosophy suits well to everybody but only when it is limited to theories ornamented with texts. But then the society got a man who practised philosophy but of a different kind. The kind that made the same man a mere dog or a cynic. The author, Tomichan Matheikel, of the book The Nomad Learns Morality in one of his short stories narrated the life events of that man, Diogenes.
Now the definition of cynicism that perpetuates today, albeit negatively, is somewhat different than what Diogenes practised. Cynicism, today, is considered synonymous to pessimism and misanthropy. But he never claimed that human beings are unworthy, although his actions did portray the same to the society. The very so…
Chapter 1: Wow! look at me. All pink and glossy. Ah! my wonderful curves, all in proper places. And... And wait a minute. Who is this dork of a book by my side? Look at his ugly leather cover. Yuck. And what the hell is this smell?. Dusky wooden old plagued. I wonder who will ever gonna read it. Huh!
OH NO! Wait. wait. Don't pick me up with this ugly book. Please! NO No no no....
"Here is your book with your favorite pink bookmark, ma'm. Have a good read" Chapter 2: "Hello mister! Would you be kind enough to tell me what is inside of you that has led you to get picked with a beauty like me" "Ma'm. I have been listening to your yowls for the past half an hour. Let me tell you one thing. I am the last book of a famous love story. That smell that you have been complaining about is what makes me attractive. But it's my pages that have all the charms. No one has ever beaten a love story so profound like that of my insides." "Is it so? Will the l…
I have a firm belief that communication is an engagement of both the listener and the speaker in a clear, concised and convenient form, where the roles of the speaker and listener should be interchanged in accordance to the context of the conversation and it needs to occur naturally without anyone imposing the other to remain in his/her previous role.
Communication uses tools which forms the basis of language. A language, just like evolution of species, has been evolved through a myriad of civilizations right from the beginning of early man.
Communication undoubtedly has been the only sole means for the survival of homo sapiens on a planet which doesn't treat anyone with niceties. Nature is cruel to everyone and to not communicate with others leads to the natural regression towards extinction.
We have seen communication in the form of cave paintings which shows the human tendency to record events for the present community of human beings and also for the posterity.
But as the civ…
Where did my voice fall?
Cobwebs on the wall
With a dead clock and lizards crawl
Staring at me, making me so small
The dawns and the dusks
The days and nights in this dust
Looking for my voice, used to trust
Looked at my mind, oh a rust!
Waiting for you here
Amidst my layers, within my fear
Steps away from my door, you there?
Where did my voice go?
A dead clock or is it slow?
Oh! I feel so low
Feel so low
One thing that I can say for certain is that people, wherever you put them, will always find a place favorite to them. A place where they can be themselves without having to wear a mask! Where they become who they are and not who they want themselves to be.
This story or you can say a scene is about that one place.
After a whole lot of soul searching, or to be precise a place to burn their lungs, the two idealistic young boys in their twenties had finally found a perfect place to vent out their frustrations through small, weak, half formed, half invisible, half desperate, half ambitious rings of smokes.
A buffoon can find himself a better place to smoke inside a construction site, but these two gentlemen had a tobacco head - all fidgety, moronic, filmy and inglorious bastards. After a week long search for a place to inconspicuously produce nicotine laced carbon monoxide, they found their safe haven - the back side of their construction office, a makeshift porta cabin.
Not always that I write like this
But then people come
And then throw their piss
And hence, happens this
Witness how they broke my bliss
Do read this piece, please
At least you will not miss
Won't dismiss the abyss
Will come to know the gist
And why I wrote like this
Okay here I go
Silence please It has been just a week
New people, new surrounding
But I came to know the hidings
Where they uncoil their black wings
Was suffocating to say the least
Gentle meek people hiding their beast
Bitching kings and queens
Pretended to be priests
But creepily they released
Guns of mockery and silent beasts
Little did I know that they like to feast
On the honesty of beings
Wrapping their black ugly wings
On the pains and sufferings
Of the miserable beings
Things afflicting me
Do surface on the skin with crease
Pretententious not at least
I said what I say best to those priests
Hoping to seek honesty
But they released those beasts
To fleece my skin with crease
All the time kept on pre…
How do you win an election? By becoming everybody? I wish! By becoming everything? Ask the dalits! By breaking a fundamental law of physics? By breaking the backbone of Newton? By misusing Einstein's E=mc^2? By inflating length, 1 inch is equal to 56 inch? By equating the time, 2002 is equal to 2014 is equal to 2019?
You can never break a law of physics, can you? An object in motion will continue to be in motion until and unless an external force is applied to it.
You find yourself solving a question on Physics.
1(a). Given that a train is in motion with believers in Orange travelling at a speed of 80 km/hr, how much force would the believers in Green make to stop that train? [10 marks]
1(b). Also show that Newton's third law is valid in such situation. [5 marks]
[Assume realistic mass of the train and unrealistic forces of the system in control]
Take the speed of the train and multiply it with the mass of the train- Final momentum. Assume an initial speed of the trai…
One thing I hate is to do weekly vegetable shopping. I hate going to any place with school of people roaming like vegetable seeking zombies on a big area with makeshift tents of vegetable shops. I hate bargaining as well. Yes, I am full of hatred! But that hatred is a transient affair and when I get isolated from them, I return to my usual calm lackadaisical reticence.
The vegetable market I am talking about was situated on the outskirt of our Institute where I was working as a contractual buffoon. I stayed with a friend of mine in a quarter allotted by that institute. I would be okay most of the time with him, as a roommate. I am always okay with one or two person at a time, not thousands of people! So, I mostly remained okay with him except for the D day! the vegetable shopping day!
What he would do, he would come to my table and would put the stupid shopping bag atop it. That used to be the damn sign for me to move my lazy back off the table and accompany him to the market. He is …