Trials and Tribulations by Fire

The title refers not to the famous play by Oscar Wilde, but to the thought behind everyday struggles. It is important, many a times very important to show your eagerness, to participate, to engage and to, just be there.  The past few months, to put it succinctly, have been tumultuous. I went through many ups and downs and most of the times, came out of situations, with hands burnt but soul gleaming. I realized then that, the most important thing was to be earnest even during trying times.  When I say earnest, I mean being eager to absorb life lessons and experiences through each pore of your body and not only through the five senses. It is imperative that we take these life lessons seriously and ensure the moral stays with us, throughout our lives.  When we lose track of the essence, of the moral of the struggle, the whole effort of being in the challenge goes down the drain. Every life lesson is like a brick that adds to the strength of our life's wall. ...

Money Money Money  Oh my honey I love you! Have seen the shimmer of gold and the glimmer of silver coins make many a man go swaggering... Of late have been meeting people who love to show off their moneyed selves and flaunt their "oh my beemer that Ramu uses for going to the laundry" and coo "arree baba, take the Rolls na...!"  Most often these show offs are Punjabis. I 'ave nothing against those poor ole' blokes, just that they are so "pheeka pheeka and arre soo khaali khaali" between their ears ki na...poocho mat! Oaf heads!  Anyway, I just decided to jerk off on my blog so that I could get some sadistic pleasure seeing me jerk off, howzat! Whoa! it never seems to end, does it?  Something or the other keeps cropping up. These bundernooks, jerks think they are the best thing that ever happened to mankind. This post is about many such specimens I met and got highly highly amused and allowed them to hang around purely to tickle my funny...

DH got a heavy duty internet pack and had been dropping hints about streaming movies online. I suddenly realized that I had lost that allure for watching or absorbing stories, at least visually. There is something that happens when I get absorbed in a story or the visual element of a movie. In a similar state of mind, I watched Fan. SRK’s movie after a long gap. I think the last movie I watched was the disastrous Happy New Year. I had almost given up on King Khan and I watched HNY only because of Deepika and that lovely number called “Kamli”. I ignored Dilwale and didn’t even bother to watch it free. So, when Fan was being promoted, I turned a blind eye and a deaf ear. I had written him off. Almost. I was kinda sad too, ‘coz I thought a man like him must go down with grace. Not resort to gimmickry like how he did in HNY but I would have wanted him to play more Mohan Bhargav kinda roles.    Yes, I grew up with him and even dreamed of him as a teen. Probably, like mi...

Sia sat in the dark balcony, lightly holding the smoldering cigarette in her slender fingers. She took a short deep puff and then inhaled deeply, taking the smoke inside. It traversed her pores and housed in her lungs, her cells. She left out the smoke in slow motion. The smoke mixed with the cool night air and she stared as it dissipated, becoming thin. The nicotine kicked in then.  She had started recently and was willfully forcing her mind to get addicted. Sia knew she had to keep control over her restless mind and reign in her thoughts. It was high time she went back to her routine life. Soon, she wrote in her diary.  Sia suffered from delusions and sometimes she wondered if everything was squeaky up there. Many times it seemed as if she had deliberately entered a suicidal mission. But, then how you must get into a dirty pond to clean out the weeds, unless you delve deep into the recesses, you cannot unravel the multiple layers of the thought that make up...

I have a problem when you don't see my point of view but when you expect me to follow yours I have a problem if you think I am a robot and do not need sleep or timely food I have a problem if you believe that I am jumping with joy to come home after a 12-hour shift to cook a hot meal I have a problem if you think it is cool to stay cool while I sweat it out in a hot kitchen I have a problem when you don't attempt to do your assigned household chores and I am forced to do them I have a problem when you seem to forget that I am a woman with a heart and that I need love and affection I have a problem when I crave for affection and yearn for that touch though in my heart I know I can never have it again, ever I have a problem when I see you walk away, never to return I have a problem when I don't see you stand up for me, when you let me down, yet again I have a problem when you treat me like shit I have a problem when you think I am weak if I cry out of frustration I have a p...

The weightlessness remains rooted  even when the heart feels heavy, uprooted, bleeding second by second... How is it possible I wonder, weightless but heavy Feels like life is throwing oxymorons at me  Challenging me, teasing me, morphing from one emotion to another seamlessly, confusing my mind into thinking that I am dealing with  myriad emotions...but its all actually one and the same   The pain doesn't go away, goes nowhere...like matter, just keeps changing  shapes...formless sometimes, like air or even gas...flows into each crevice and fills one up, till oxygen gets choked The zillion pieces that lay scattered on the sands are something that I  do not want to pick up...I walk on...a few pieces stick to my feet and poke till blood gushes out...I wince but the pinch is not as great as the wound in my heart, I manage to smile...pull the piece of glass and look at it with wonder A miniscule thing, immaterial by itself but when it makes...

Have been wandering with a mad, wanderlust in my head A worm burrowing deeper deeper harder Forcing me, sometimes torturing me To wander, aimlessly, aim-fully, with disdain in my heart Across areas I wander, drive sometimes, listening to loud music, blaring from the thundering speakers of my car My sole companion, a mute spectator to the intensity of the night Of promises not made, of love made, and of emotions exchanged Hormonal rushes doused, to be aflame again, to be stoked till the heart's content be satiated... A fuzz, a buzz that pushes me, keeps forcing me to think, obsess on the sparkle of the eyes, of the whiteness of the teeth, of love unspoken but displayed, of passion exchanged over a mere touch Words flow like a torrential river, sometimes each drop spitefully spew venom Love, hate like co-brides, inhabit my self, containing within themselves an intense intertwining of emotions and sentiments, creating an inextricable bondage, making me catch my breath, forcing...

Time went by while I stood there watching the waves crash against the rocks Determined they were, throwing themselves on the hard rocks,  to etch their sign on them, the rocks... Steadfast, they stood...grand sometimes...the rocks deterred not... the waves shrunk back to gain momentum and tried again...harder and harder... no luck... When I turned after watching this self flagellation mutely,  I realized...there was certainly a change in the texture of the rocks...on the outer edges... they appeared smoother, the glaze of moss caught the moonlight and threw it on the waves... a silent back and forth they did... There comes a time in everybody’s life when you are forced  to return something that you have got which is not yours to keep. What should one do? Like the waves, keep hitting the rocks,  till they buckle in or gain momentum and make a gargantuan  effort to throw the gift on the shore and recede...swiftly...silently... never to rise again...flo...

I try to write...words don’t form I force myself to think coherent thoughts I close my eyes, tight...tears form from the effort My heart is threatening to burst as it has done so many times now I want the emotions to flow out...let the thoughts free Out in the universe I want them to merge and leave me alone To lick my wounds Prose or poetry, all are a play of words...which refuse to bubble up Which refuse to form...you merged with the light and left me in darkness To ponder on the frivolousness of the penance I am forced to enlist myself for A deep vast void that holds in its womb a solid ball of darkness, black and sticky You go closer, it will pull you, first slowly, then quickly, then slowly till you cant breathe Your life force will ebb away... The ball resonates, moves, sighs and makes one wonderstruck at the  dim blue light emanating from the core somewhere The light travels outwards...becomes brighter and explodes I feel the light ...

"We have a mental connect, I have never felt like this ever before with anybody" he said. Tina, listened carefully. Her heart was fluttering, like a butterfly. In a corner of her mind, her rational mind, a soft voice repeated, he must be saying this to so many women, don't believe him . Tina did believe him, alright. Each time he said this, she believed him. Blindly. She loved the connect she had with him. She didnt know at that time that he didnt have a connect with her, mental or otherwise. He was planning to leave her, make her a mental case. What exactly is a mental connect? Often, the lover boy types use these flowery words to lure girls into their hormonally-levered arms to satiate the rush and make them grunt to the beats of the adrenaline jumping in their loins. A mental connect is a very easy way to lure an intelligent women to shed her clothes. A solid and reliable mental connect between two people happens when both partners are equally sharing the ...