Archive for the ‘My Experiences…’ Category

I think I am going to be one of those people who get old and reflect, only to find their life worthless. They look back at what they did, and most importantly what they didn’t. They may get a smile or two when they think of their off-beat achievements, but those shoots go profoundly unnoticed as they sit in the roots of the rainforests of things they couldn’t achieve.

I was born in a middle class family with a to-heck-with-bread-winning attitude. Being such a “self-destructive combination”, I have always tried to fly higher, but I never seemed to use the “normal” way. My parents always warned that the way I am using to reach the sky is not “real and healthy”, and I must follow the “right” way! The biggest problem in my life as a boy were to stop playing, stop singing, stop dancing and start studying. Studying was the only point in my KPI for being a good boy – everything else was either a hobby or a waste of time. Hobbies were not quite encouraged though, as the child’s enthusiasm in it may eat up study time. Hobbies related to studies, like writing self-assigned homework, tidying study area, creating a weekly time table for studies, packing bags for the next day et cetera were  probably the only ones encouraged. Studying has be your ultimate goal as a child; or else, as the legend goes, you become a good-for-nothing tramp!


But I used to be a revolutionist (the first masala to the story). My parents barred me from singing, and I practiced for a competition for patriotic songs in the bathroom, (singers, ever practiced normal-high pitched songs in squeaky voices). Even though the results were devastating (was oblivious to that), I still remember spending half an hour each every time I go, just to practice. It may be normal for a boy who attained puberty to stay back in the bathroom for that much time (if you know what I mean), but I was still 9. This unexpected downtime did raise suspicion. I had to make something up. I used to take bottle caps to bathroom from the day I felt that my father wasobserving me. Once when he asked, I explained that I get late because I play in the bathroom with them. I used to make swirls in the water bucket with my hands and let the caps float in them, and imagine them as pirate ships caught in a swirl in the sea. And I sing songs to dramatize the scene. As they already had an impression that I was borderline crazy, they bought the story. But going back, I would never believe my child if she ever says that. Who sings Indian patriotic songs when a pirate ship sinks?


Thus, I never practiced in full range of my voice and I never knew my limits. To top that, I had no idea about song selection. No teachers to teach, no singers to guide, and my competition had all that. I lost fair and square in those few stages I participated. I never wanted to quit though, and my bathroom sessions continued. But then, my parents were not too oblivious about my participations. Slowly, and emotionally, they barred me completely from it.


I started growing up, and when I reached 7th grade, I saw around myself that a certain amount of social status must be acquired in order to survive the highly cosmopolitan life of a backward Mumbai suburb. And I saw an easy way to get a lot of it. A classmate of mine, who looks half of his age (imagine that), showcased a brilliant western dance performance and he got elevated to the alpha status overnight. I saw the real power of a stage performance right there. I wanted to become that rock-star which he is now. But hey, do I dance?


I thought of getting expert advice on it. But because that comes at a price, I thought of seeking some free advice. No free online forums or Youtube videos were accessible back then, so I sought asylum at the only social media platform that was available for free to school kids, the television. The problem there (the list of problems doesn’t end here) was western dance was available in channels banned in Indian families, namely the MTV and Channel V. Dead end? I don’t think so. I can never quit that easily. But I need to find a solution where I can watch channels which have “highly explicit sexual content” in front of my parents for hours. Will I do that, find out next…




Image courtesy:


CH – 1
It never depends on how she looks,
Looks wither with time!
The only thing permanent, is how she  looks,
At you!

CH – 2
The way she looks at you depends on the way you treat her!
And if you treat her like a princess, you’ll be her prince!

P – 1
Even if she doesn’t have dreamy locks of hair,
Which run upon your face to wake you up,
If she makes your mornings pleasing with
An honest smile on her face!
Even if she doesn’t  have those curves,
On which you can rest your head,
If she keeps you warm in the winter,
With a warm hug and a kiss, You’ll know…

(CH – 1) It never depends on how she looks,
Looks wither with time!
The only thing permanent, is how she  looks,
At you!

P – 2
The girl who doesn’t let you forget,
That love is not just you and me!
That girl who reminds you of the world  outside love,
Who reminds you of realities,

Who makes sure that you succeed is the one who you need to choose!

(CH – 1)It never depends on how she looks,
Looks wither with time!
The only thing permanent, is how she  looks,
At you!

(CH – 2)The way she looks at you depends on the  way you treat her!
And if you treat her like a princess, you’ll be her prince!

Someone just put a ring on my finger.

A ring of gold, shining bright yellow,

With the name of that someone on it, bold and polished.

A strong ring, bolder, bigger,

Than it actually looks, and the yellow glow,

Having the aura of being something special, to be cherished,

For a life-time, forever,

On my right hand, nowhere else it will go!

A promise, that I will have it embellished,

With her hand or hair, sooner or later,

When she rests on me, when I will show,

The love, in my heart, which I had preserved,

For her so long. Sooner or later,

The moment to which I will grow,

Will come, and I stand unprepared,

My bones trembling to shatter,

Like a boy 5 year old,

Gazing at a raging sea for the first time, battered.

The ring reminds me now the bitter

Side of what it means to throw

Myself into the sea of promises, I did

See the ring slides in easier,

But its hard to remove.

The skin under it, pale as dead.

It squeezes my finger,

Where now I see my head, and the squeezed neck below,

The responsibilities keeping my neck squeezed,

I need to be stronger,

To face the unexpected, I need to grow,

The greatest fear is from the unexpected,

To face the biggest fear,

I need to stand strong,

Just like the great mountains, never stirred,

By the storms, forever.

With the words that “No,

I wont fall back, no matter what. As I promised,

I will be there, forever.

No trying situation, can give a blow,

To my determination, that I will have it embellished,

With your hair, your fingers, forever,

When you need me. Together we will glow

As for each other, we were destined.

Our rings will glow together,

And your right hand, I will hold,

With mine, and see their shine, as with love they are polished!


Photo Courtesy:

Thank you Sir!

Posted: July 27, 2011 in My Experiences...

Hi, how are you People? Well I am not fine, if you ever mind asking me that question, and I am writing this post to be all right… For your information, I started this blog so that I will feel finer every-time I post some meaningless article in here. To be a biiit more clear, my senior asked me the big question one day (and that is last Monday), “Do you Blog?” I said yes. “What do you blog?”. I was blank. Not because I didn’t know the answer of the question, but because I didn’t understand the question at the first place…

Well, as a normal guy who just uses his computer to google out a few things of my concern, or may be chat with some of my folks around the world, I have never blogged. The time when I thought that I must start blogging was not even a week before; at that time, I just thought that a blog is just a place where you can give out whatever you have within yourself, not with you.

I asked him, “duhh… Sir, can you please specify the question?” This I did to buy some time, but I never knew that this would reveal a truth to me about something, which is viral among the youth, which is blogging. He said, “I think you are not so updated about blogging. I’ll give you a live example. I have a blog named ********** (I didn’t delete the name, I forgot it. I don’t mind telling the name if I could remember it…) which sells people a lot of ways, ideas to make money. I blog ideas and resources for the same. Now, tell me, what do you blog?”

I heard a flashover inside my brain; it just caught something, a new result. A search started, and it ended just from the place it started, my senior’s mouth… Well, I seriously didn’t ever know that a verb blogging had another meaning, which is selling. I never knew that a blog is used for commercial purposes. Well, one more truth revealed…

But I still couldn’t answer the question, this time, its not because I didn’t understand the question, and certainly not because I didn’t know the answer to it… I didn’t reply, just because I knew the clarity of my answer, I knew that I cannot speak about what I ‘blog’ to him. But hey, I can tell it to you folks, but don’t tell it to anyone.

The answer is (drdrdrdrrdrdrdrdr) “Frustration”. Yes, when I am frustrated, I sit in front of my laptop, and I start venting out the frustration on its delicate keyboard, and that’s what you see. I vent out my frustration into something or the other through this keyboard (usually a word file). A friend of mine happened to read my frustrations one day, and that friend told me, “Why don’t you blog it?”Since long, I  have always thought that blogging is just a place where you can store all kinds of crap that you write so that people can come and see them. I verified that when that friend of mine suggested.  Well, I never thought it was such a powerful tool… Thank you sir…