Two Gone-Three More to Go

When I say my good byes,
I’ll look back with misty eyes,
Wishing for one last chance,
To be on the green turf!

Sportsmen age quickly—and in full public view—and most of them retire when the rest of us start our climb. They turn 30 and we start calling for their heads, writing their obituaries before the actual day. They sweat it out in the field and we ask them to shed some blood.

The Wall is Crumbling

He came, he was slow but solid and reliable, he ruled at number three… and now he is not even the shadow of his former self. I defended his batting, fought with my near ones, and boasted, “no one can ever dismiss him.”

Today, it does not affect me whether he gets out at duck or three. Rahul Dravid is no longer the player for whom I fought for, and he has completely slipped out of my cricket memory.

I Envy American Politics

“I am happy because Obama won,” my friend used IM to convey her happiness. My reaction should have been, “Obama Who?” But, I got up in the morning thinking “Did Obama win?”

B.R Chopra passed away, Pandit Bhimsen Joshi is conferred the Bharat Ratna, a serving army man is arrested for Malegoan bomb blast… and Gambhir banned from playing Nagpur test –on any other day, all news channels would have dissected the ban—but to my utter surprise both English/Hindi channels are rejoicing Obama’s win non-stop.

Friends in U.S asked me Obama or McCain, and I have no intention to become an American. But, still the question was asked as if my opinion mattered. What difference does it make to me if an African American comes to power? Nothing to be precise.

He will be serving his country and Americans the best and not some Indian. If tomorrow, giving Kashmir away to Pakistan solves his country’s insecurities, I bet … he won’t think twice before putting pressure on India to act and her strategic interests be damned.

Good for the people of America, and as screamed by all, Americans have risen above race to elect the young president. The happiness on their faces as seen on T.V reflects the ushering of a new era of promise for all of them.

As an Indian, it would have made no difference to me even if McCain had won. But, I have started to envy American politics—it looks intelligent and sophisticated compared to rowdy politics of India. I do not see goons in American politician’s shed—ready to kill, destroy public property and make a mockery of democracy.

When Americans rose above race, region and class to elect Obama, in India, we are getting more fixated with caste and regional politics. Will I be able to see the same class and intelligence among our politicians who believe more in their brawns than brains. Do not think that will happen in my life time.

Even the educated in India believes in dividing and using goonism to win over people, the examples, Bal Thackrey and Raj Thackrey. And, people do agree to that brand of politics and stand in the queue to vote for the death of democracy and also India.

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Honesty Turns Fatal for Boy Killed in Mehrauli Blast

For a change it happened in the afternoon, but again another Saturday and again another bomb blast. It is again a similar sequence of events at my end too. The breaking news on a Web site, screaming “bomb blast in XYZ city,” the rush to take hold of the remote control and while watching the hysterical anchors, the curiousity to know “how many died.”

Again the same curses directed at thick skinned politicians and desiring their near ones death–so they can realize five lakh can never compensate for a life lost.

All this is fast becoming like a weekly realty show, but with a difference, the protagonists escape while the bystanders get punished. And the viewers, open their address book, make few calls, take a deep sigh and get back to watching the gory details or switch over to another reality show.

Today’s terror attack killed one and injured 15 plus. Ah, not much, it’s all right, we must have had more road deaths.  May be even this 13 year old boy, Santosh Kumar, would have escaped, but he paid with his life for being honest.

We lost an honest Indian, which is rare to find in this country of a billion. And, if the nation is not capable of protecting our endangered class, it’s time to say our last prayers.

And by tomorrow, we would have forgotten everything. Another day, most probably another Saturday, we  will switch on the TV to know, “how many died.” In India, reality shows get the highest TRPs.

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This news story and the title is courtesy NDTV Web site:

Honesty Turns Fatal for Boy Killed in Mehrauli Blast

Sincerity and honesty became the death warrant for the child who lost his life in the blast that shook the flower market in Mehrauli of south Delhi on Saturday.

Santosh Kumar (13), who fell victim to the low-intensity bomb, was only trying to return the ‘packet’ of the two motorcycle-borne youth.

Little did Kumar, hailing from Bihar, know that he was trying to return the bomb, which the duo had deliberately dropped.

The last words heard by eyewitnesses and his relations were Kumar saying, “bhai saab, aapka packet gir gaya hai (brother, your packet has fallen).”

“Everything happened so suddenly. Thick smoke came out instantly and there was a bang. My nephew was in blood,” recounts his maternal uncle Fantoosh, a snacks vendor selling omelets and boiled eggs.

Santosh was sent by his maternal uncle to fetch a crate of eggs when the incident happened.

His grandmother, Rekha, was wailing for Kumar who was declared brought dead by the Hospital authorities.

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Rest in Peace Kumar!

The Bird

Wrote this one long … long time back.

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The bird desired release, and who was Him to refuse her. The substance cried foul, cribbed, begged, and at last challenged, when every other arsenal failed. Bird pitied the substance but understood its quandary. Him was malevolently delighted, but did not make it apparent, acting the neutral, mere an innocent medium, to fulfill a desire.

Waiting for Inspiration

Before I begin … let me salute those who write everyday, post something on their blogs regularly, and have built something–good or bad–after being told by everyone, the land cannot carry a seed. Most of us, including me, we keep sitting … staring vacuously, waiting for the inspiration to strike.

A friend of mine once told me, “If we were not lazy, we would have been genius.” I trust his words but more than lazy, I am scared … ‘What if.’ It is not the fear of rejection–I believe every rejection takes you closer to that perfect story–but it is the fear of unknown.

I define unknown as a trait of not knowing how your characters will behave or where they will lead you. It’s also possible–one of my fears again–they may never reveal their true identity or reason.

The inspiration aspect is just an excuse to procrastinate the inevitable. And until and unless, I do not shed my fear of unknown, I am incapable of stepping forward and discovering the world that thrives on the branches of a Mango tree.

First, I need to find more about the roots of this Mango tree.

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For my own sake, I wish to continue updating this blog.

Waiting for Opponent

For a long while now, I have been writing fiction, which has been difficult for others and at times even for me to comprehend. Often, I feel that I need to bake them properly, give them enough time, work on them and may be then it will be easier for my friends, who are kind enough to read all my crappiest stuff, and also myself. This, I call it flash fiction, that I wrote a long while back is easier for me to understand …. but my friends… no too sure

The Story: There were two seats, one was occupied, and the other was still looking for its worthy occupant.

Pay Per Click Advertising-Introduction

If you are online, you have to be on search engines, otherwise you are assumed not there. But, when there are pages and pages of search results and your website is not on top of the search results, your products or services do not catch a searcher’s attention. This is where the concept of Pay Per Click (PPC) advertising helps.

It not only gives your website instant listing on search engines but also gives top positions, provided you are managing the account professionally and doing the bid management properly. Unlike conventional medium of advertising, here the advertiser only pays when a searcher clicks on the ad.

Looking Towards East

Everyone says, I have to make this story more  clear and decipherable … the story is incomplete without me writing more on the background. … But do I know more … I am so in doubt and so I post without clarifying what actually happened. I actually do not know what happened, or you can just say, I do not want to make an effort and take a deeper look at the protagonist life

The Story: I sat in my cell looking towards the east – they say the sun still rises from that end. It was also towards the east that my mom had built a home for my sister and me. My father did not like the house, but he used to come home late in the night to fight and collapse.

Blabberings

At times, there is a complete chaos inside you and what takes life on the screen are multiple thoughts in pieces, not lucid but thoughtful enough. After a while, when you read them again … each piece has a life of its own … throbbing and ready to burst and become a complete entity.

However, often you do not get the time (read, I am a sluggard) to expand those written pieces and they just remain your blabberings … just like the couple of ones I am posting today….