and kiki got married

it was time that kiki got married
it was her 8th fall with him
ups and downs ,highs and lows... she had seen it all with him
cried, laughed, got drunk, got sloshed, tripped, tried all the shit in the world with him
it was time that kiki got married...

loveeeee was in the air and in the food and in the drinks as well
laughter ,crankiness , anxiety , tears in mom's eyes well it was all there
dholis with there dhols djs with their groves were there too
it was time that kiki got married...

sutta drives and wine drinking sessions would never gonna happen again...
mafia all night with brothers in arms literally was never gonna happen again....
crib sessions ,gym sessions with girlfriends would be missed as well
but hell it was time that kiki got married...

she hugged all and tears rolled down her face....
we stood there spell bound sayin goodbyes to her and her life....
paki dosti ,love shuv and all that ....kinda went on with her but not lost forever...
well it was finaly the time when kiki got married....

winter

hmm....can u feel the nip in the air...the third dimension which appears on the street lights ...
winter is round the corner and its already getting lonely and cold...

their were times i waited for winters and now it seems i detest them for the coldness and the sadness it beholds...i need my sunshine....

well would it be the second depressing winter in a row ..last year October was when i started writing this blog and life hasn't changed much...

i guess its time...i guess the buck stops here....

the coorgi experiance

Waking up at 7 on a Sunday has never come easily to me ,but I think the very thought of visiting Coorg the most talked about place in South India at least by my nature sucking band of freaks made it a bit easy. Excited on clinching a kick ass deal on a quails I was hell ya disappointed after seeing the Tata Sumo which reminded me of the super car in Mask.

It helped that our driver neither knew English/Hindi nor kannad. I guess he spoke malu which was mandarin to us as well as the locals who would have laughed like crazies if they knew that 4 power packed panjus are heading towards the elusive wetlands of Karnataka with a mallu driver…

Coorg is actually a small district in Karnataka which the met department argues receives the highest rainfall in the world. Don’t know about the official status but ya it rains day in and day out. So if you luv rain catch the next flight to Bangalore and head off and if you don’t stay off.

The landscape is all misty and the greenest of greens. I haven’t seen any landscape so green in India at least. Anyways so the fucked sumo and the crazy driver took just about 8 hours to reach Suntikopa ( four hours behind schedule ) which is were Mrs Muthappa’s estate was .

Suntikopa is a small village and inhabitants are all coffee estate owners and their workers. We drove through coffee estates to reach Mrs Muthappas River side estate; the river obviously was invisible in that darkness. The rooms at Mrs Muthappa's River Side Estate are basic but tastefully done like any south Indian house. And the fact that the river was not a myth and it actually appeared in the morning was an add on.

The landscape was just brilliant and the weather couldn't’t get better…I could have just sat around and had endless cuppas of the brilliant coorgi homegrown coffee and my ultra milds and maybe gone for a walk through the brilliant coffee estates hunting for some snakes and birds ,but my partners in our self confessed and top secret crime had something else in their minds so we ended up at madegiri (spelling mistake for sure)which is the capital of the district and hence a shiti small hill station, the view from “Raja ki Seat"is phenomenal and the very fact that we have some freaking 30 pictures at the same spot is a digital testimony of the same.

The other place I luved was the Abby falls which is about 5 km from the main city and believe me these are actually falls wherein one can commit suicide ,well all four of us thought this is the perfect place to kick life if we come back here again single…… (a lill luv would have had a multiplier effect )

The night was quiet and we had another round of fine corgi cuisine which Mrs. Muthappa who is ex Delhi and really misses the capital served us with someeeeee pride along with small organic bananas. I was about to start another gyan session about how God was an Alien (Read Chariots of God for more information on that) but my travel buddies were not amused and hence I was forced to shut up.

Well I would like to thank our ace photographer Puneet Sewra who can put some real kick ass special effects in your pictures if he loves you, our super model Shivani who we all are so sure should get married to a photographer considering her never ending appetite for getting clicked and the sweetest dictator Ruchi who is well above all this ( wo in sab se upar uth chuki hai) you are all awesome travel buddies and more

Aldo i think i will always remember Mr Muthappa who versed us with his life history, corgi traditions and how corgi women cant get married to outsiders ,his better half for her love and oh food and off course our new driver Fahad who is the wittiest driver in the world……

green dreams , coffee plantations , misty landscape , dark starry nights , compatibility and the reverse of it...perfect chuti personified...

thanks meera for suggesting it ur a sweetheart////

unimportant eventfull

its freakin 4 in the mornin dam.....well my victory rounds after the mindblowin worldcup final have extended in to this wo so senseless shoot which i am not sure ill ever use....well lifes like that ,,,,sometimes you do things knowing theres no point and sometimes u miss out on stuff which is like shit important to your very being,,,,

this day easily goes down as the most unimportant eventful day in my life....dono if thats a oxymoron...well 5 am i shout on my society president,....some freak fauji who didnt like the sight of my all new unwashed sex on toast set of wheels while he was on his morning walk...then he alleges that i tried to run him down ...ya sure i wish i would have,,,thanks to my insane sense that prevailed ....i am proud though how i survived the 7 am courtmarshel with 7 faujis eatin my head on being a good citizen which whose prime most responsibility is to park the car at the right slot,...cause you know such in dicipline can kill some one on front,,,,gurrrrrrrr....feel like shootin each one of them down,,,,

i forgive them hmm i feel like god sometimes....but dam India screwed the shit out of Pakistan and i went mad and am sure embarrassed the shit out of shilpa who just wanted little peace in her life ....sorry baba...some days are just some days....

weird ...how bored i must be to actually write about this unimportant eventful day....am sure there are better days ahead....

were is my change

another year ,,,,passed by ,,,like a uncertain whiff .like a stranger ,,,
its been tough ....huh,,,,pretty tough....
its strange you know when suddenly people around you start disappearing..
like Morrison says....no safety no surprise......the end
shilpa ,dj , meera , mona ....i know u would have been here if you could have but you couldn't....i love you anyways.....
i used to say every birthday of mine brings a change ....am still waiting for that change this year....am getting anxious almost uncertain of what lies ahead....

raft through gods farm land....

i just landed on presumably the highest civilian airstrip in the country....its cold outside....drive towards the the mystique old town of leh is unnerving.......am on a rafting expedition////through the grand canyon of asia....would be rafting through the mighty zanskar valley....walla....3 days of drive through the highest mountain passes in this part of the world...drive...camp...drive...camp.....and then 5 days on the river....tackling grade 4 rapids,..stop camp when u want a sutta break.....start when u feel the adrenalin rush...3 rafts ,,,,7 rafters /////some old fogies...some future acquaintances.....we raft through landscape ...so crass....so imposing...untouched...unexplored....u almost feel like an intruder into gods own farm house...ur off road ,,,of civilization.....steering on gut and a gps....nothing matters anymore....i god dam wanna get lost ..........

irony ........my chutti got cancelled....

Speed of light

Alone

will i

Misty moon light or shades of day

starlit sky or rain drops are falling on my head

forest all around or water touching the horizon

loud silence or quiet cricket noise.....

walk on the old church road or quiet chat on the old school bench

dance till dawn or run at the crack of it....

belafonte, frank Sinatra blues or Morrison and weder poetry

sudden spur of surprises or mellow change....

shallow affection or deep hatred...

true lies or bitter truths.....

will i ever be able to pick.....

Fluid

one of my first pictures,,,,,d70....have finally dived into the word of shutter speed aperture and exposure....

Faith

Mashobra...unfold

Of Rain

Of Faces in the wilderness

Of Bonfires and smoke

Of Six Strings and chords

Of shadows and darkness

Of Conflicting Egos and arguments

Of Peanut Masala and

Of rum and coke

Of Manala and mellow intoxication

Of freaky gyan which erks

Of more rain

Of the wonder car and its elements

Of chilly water and rapids

Of forced appreciation

Of forced clicks

Of longing for more

Of show of the lifetime missed

Of reality that bytes....

that was this trip...

why not

Heard her voice
Drowned in melancholy and seclusion
Thought she would and should be happy after all
Then why ….why not

I long for her happiness …..
I long for her peace…..

hold on

Mosaic of emotions
Scared, blemished, cryptic
Veiled in the little corner of my flickering mind
Want to hold them as long as I can…before they wreck
My artificially sweetened life….
Something inside seems bursting out……….hold on…

home

home..
wonder where is it......
in the quaint old town ....were my folks live and love
or in this mad house were i run after and from my facets....
amongst old deodars , mango trees and ashokas,.....
or between dust ,cement and rotten grass
150 crazy cacti..park double the size of my nest.
or 150 books ....and my mattress....
do i luv the old Victorian high ceilings with roshan dans ...
or the new space crunched rooms....and balcony
the chai,,,,newspaper and jenny
or slim milk....worldspace and my bai......
with my folks ...who are a generation ,,,,ahead....
or with my loneliness....

hmm

hmm
havent written for quite some time...
i guess i am numb
there is pain but i cant feel the pinch
there is joy but i can feel the tickle...
there is hope but no positivity
there is light but its too dark to see it
i have gone through the highest high and swimmed through the lowest low
right now....i guess i am in search
in search of well another new me
this time around....a lill less of everything////
gud night god bless

newyork angel

An almost stranger from the past waiting

An unfamiliar, unexplainable anxiety which was shadowed by the steeping excitement

Busy hotel lobby bursting with rain drenched travelers and I try and read every face which seems pretty and her

And their i see her scanning every face to find a reflection of me...

She stands pretty and tall on the steps with her oh I am so tired look

We walk across to the café, its raining thoughts, perspectives, emotions, illusions, and madness

Corner café at a busy Manhattan street, Italian food , goo goo dolls in the background….

We share a little that we had in common, the weak stitch from the past and little which was unknown, unspoken …stitching us together forever or so it seemed

Her views, her perspectives, she was like my alter ego

The best lunch in the past 12 months and the happiest entry in this blog

I am disillusioned

Buried in mystification

Crossing paths with inconsequentiality

It looks trivial….shallow…..

Where is….what I am looking for……

What was once mine ,eternally …

Have I lost it….are am I lost…..

Perspectives seem unstable

Sunday

Solitary Sunday

Wet eyes

Heavy breath

Morbid visions

Dark shadows

Numbness

An atheist prays

Dying optimism

Birth of a cynic

Desperate affection

Contemptuous imagination

Scornful dreams

Self mocking

Forced acceptance

In that order

i feel numb for a split second
feel shattered the other

feel someone has died deep inside
almost as if my soul is running out of reasons to live inside

as if i am waiting for the gallows , life smeared with darkness
her thoughts which painted my life red are turning black

my life is walking off and am sitting tied with the unbreakable
the movie has ended and i felt pity till the time i realised it was my life

will never live if she leaves...cant hold on...
cant un love her ...cant love neone beyond her.......

have felt the lowest of lows
the extremes of agony...

guess my best wasn't enough..................

i loved u since september

i know it all started suddenly and i know we rushed in ...
i know i made mistakes and did the wrongs in the very beginning...

i cant forget the coldplays...the wines and the dance...
getting late , making excuses and innumerable promises
those months i was in some kinda trance...

do u remember the night at blues...when u said it all...
it still sounds as if it was just yesterday..

the morning drives to office...the sun on ur face..
and the sparkle in ur eyes which grew with every passing day

how i hated to part and how i wanted u to be their every single day
couldn't change it at all..just that now i want u every split second

u bought me love when i had started hating the very word..
u held on to me when the winds from past tried to blew my life...

the sunday lunches, the tc nights and the jams at dj's ...
dont remember the life before u and cant think of one without u...

the trips to the jungle ,the urge to fight the world..
wish it was still around...wish u were still around...

i know u might never read this..
even if u read ,,,u might not believe this..

i am in love with u ....since i remember...
i have fallen in love with u every single day since that September

Sometimes the where becomes more predominant then the what….
When the where is the only constant and what becomes variable…

Though the what will always be more defining then the where….
I thought of writing of the where rather then the what…

Strange but my last three life changing what’s happened at the same were…

Goa and me have established some sort of a karmic connection.


Walked on the beach with some one and with no one

Danced in the water in the day and in the night

Counted the stars and the rain drops

Saw the sun sets and the depressions

Saw the sun rises and the ray of hopes

Got drunk on port wine and life

Ate omelets and goan pork sausages

Read Che and Morrison

Rode in to the dawn and walked in to darkness

Smoked with nudists and the layered

Heard everyone and myself

The dead me , the dying me , the young ,me and the newborn me danced to the trance…

Questioned god and his very existence

Got convinced and let go

Luved ,hated , felt , shaired , caught , met ,,,life here …

self reflection and shit

you know how it is to go through your phone book every evening....
wondering whom to call ....
hoping some one will listen...will agree to go out for dinner or may be a harmless coffee...
wanting to spend time with someone ...anyone ...not alone it is killing me now...(Jesus this is desperation)

went through my phonebook yet again....wondered .....called but well how lucky could i get,,,,
another lonely evening,,,,decided not to get bogged down,,,,ordered my pepperoni pizza...went for a shot drive,,,,,grabbed a frappe....smoked 3 ...tripped sitting in front of ccd...watchin ....luvin hating,,,,ppl moving around....and guess what Beatles played live for me...

the problem is that i am experiencing this for the first time in my lifetime...,never felt so lonely...so helpless...guess i have chosen this for me,,,,its like getting to know the real me...self reflection and shit, or rather forced self reflection..iam not exactly enjoying it...but ya its different then whateve i have been doing...ok enough iam loosing the plot,,,

this aint me

just read all what i wrote..and shit i realised what a deppresed fuck i am..
the reality is i am an extreme optimist.
used to be really happy as well..
wonder what happned...
i think its just that i write when i am sad..
is it like that allways...
we become more expressive when we are sad....
or is that there are a lot of thoes fogies around when ur happy...
well i guess need to start writing when i am happy ....cause i hate this shit...

sunday morning

Sunday mornings….start with dizziness….its like a struggle
a struggle to stay in the bed…asleep
a struggle to complete my dreams from the week gone
a struggle to interpret what I couldn’t the day before
a struggle to see the signs I couldn’t see
a struggle to read the love in her eyes
a struggle to hear deceit in her voice
a struggle to search nothing of everything and everything of nothing hidden in the corners of my struggling soul

Its like a collating a jigsaw.
to view my ghosts,
to view my disturbed soul….
to view the one who let go
to view who didn’t
to view those I left behind
and those who did that to me..


And then the dizziness gives way to fear

the fear of what has gone wrong going wrong again
the fear of the blasts from the past
the fear of listening the screams from the past
the fear of voices so cold ,cutting through me again
the fear of missing the bus again and yet again
the fear to loose her and everyone yet again


Cant take no more…the light pierces me deep down…
How I used to love my Sunday mornings …well not anymore..dono why…

Well still love one thing about my Sunday…my masala chai…
Life is not that bad…or it is…dono…fuck it ,,tea is great though..

the biker me in goa.....

with wind hitting on my face .........metallica jarring in my ears here i am on the road again here i am upon the stage ...turn the page....every day i took this ride on my not so overwhelming 180 cc ....from parvorim to brittos ,,,and hell i luved it....

the 20 minute ride through green pastures that define green ....churches that defy time and religion....was not just a ride but a new journey ...a new journey every day...it was me and the one within me....a series of questions ,,,,a number of confessions,,,,,couple of answers ....and a single reality.

reality bytes ....but hell it sustains itself....its the sole truth....we are born alone ...well most of us...and die alone ...all of us....and surprisingly we live alone most of our life's,,,,,at least i do...or i am forced to....

but i think the only time i have been glad to be alone is during these bike rides....no one to talk...no one to pasture....no one to crib,,,,no one to care for....no one to judge.....no one to betray ,,,,...its the good old me,,,,,my ride.....who only asks for a lill over 50 bucks for 3 km....and my music....

probably the only reasons ill go back to goa alone would be these journeys....the self reflective....self abusing.,,,,self destructive....self confiding....self confessing....bike rides which go down my memory lanes as iconic journeys....