Engage & Fire away

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Click. More clicks. A whistle. Some claps. A smart comment. The happy laugh. More clicks. A deafening whistle. Laughs. And more of them.

The obligatory congratulations.

More smart comments. Laughs.

Sweet dishes. Maybe lunch.

A day to hide the monotony. A new beginning. New hope flowers. The pains find the depth of the deep inside, which nobody can see. Hidden & locked forever.

They surface an other day or may be another time, more bitter & spiteful.

But what needs to be needs to be done, without knowing when it will stop, with whom will it end? Or is there an end?

Heartfelt congrats to them who bring happiness to whatever little time. Hope they can do that a lot more often to themselves and others around them.


The common man

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Who the hell is this common man?

What defines a common man?

Does the wealth define whether he comes under this common bracket. Or is it his action or inaction that define common?

Statistically speaking using the percentile methodology we can clearly demarcate who is common and who is not.

But the ones who claim to be common are not so common and ones who are common do not make the common noise.

Stop complaining you uncommon commons. Look around you are uncommon. The uncommon folks on the other hand will remain uncommon with additions every period.Good. But the additions to common as a percentage is far higher. So growth rate keeps the uncommon uncommon and the common common. The sets are kept honest.

If the uncommon knows the common, and the uncommon become uncommon by fair means in the common then we are are on the right track. Else god save us!



The road less travelled

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I don’t know if this is ever going to make sense.

The road, people populated, is what makes the journey worthwhile.

The funnel:

There are shortcuts, most take them. So there goes a set of people who you will never see again.

Then there are these people who are in a hurry, those big brawny vehicles, zipping past you.

Nobody stops, they keeping turning away or going past you.

Some of us follow, some of us accelerate to join in on the race, exceeding speed limits, breaking rules.

The journey goes on.


Blood Spilled

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She laughed. Carelessly.

The horses rode the waters for a change. Slow, but the visual and the aural made up for the velocity of the horses.

The trees swayed to wind. Dusty but windy. The shrubs sashayed in the open. The grass freshened in the evening light. The expectation of rains it seemed.

The sun had made his last appearance, retiring early in the day. The dark clouds had taken over. Sun had brought it upon himself. For a while, he would have no say in to what happened below the cover of those thick cumulonimbus clouds.

The birds waited ratted out their understanding of what was next. The dogs followed suit in . The bats welcomed the early nightfall.

Nightfall. Sunset. Work day ends. He comes back.

They get in. Sounds shut. The walls gradually close in.

Blood has been spilled today. Tomorrow will be a different scene.
Or is there still hope? Hope for the mankind?


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There is more to life than just living, she complained. Philosophy, quipped the kid who had lived the as many days as her age. Or maybe more. More snigger.

She adjusted those larger than life spectacles. Her worries kept her busy for a long time now, even those silly spectacles got on her nerves. She sniggered now. More followed from everybody in the room.

She wished a lot of things, she started listing and categorizing, filing under the family, the friends, the kids, the husband, the neighbors, the acquaintances and the street folks ‘banners’. All people related, she exclaimed inside. Inside excitement was good, she laughed inwards. Small short lived happiness. The things she wished for. She wanted more. She did not wish for death. Death seemed too easy. She wanted her type to be extinct.

Rahul Dravid

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There was a time when I want to scribble something, an itch to write pages,  to talk endlessly; visualizing those heroic acts, those brave confrontations and the time of our lives. Last time it was Anil Kumble, now it is Rahul Dravid.

Dravid’s cover drive, his pull, his on drive, his square cut, his flick and many more of defense and leaving the ball alone were only the visual beauty of his game. Perfection, that is what he aimed for. It showed. Persevering to be better all the time. I guess that is what it is all about. To be better. He was never rewarded enough. And criticism never was too far away either. But he was always a gentleman. On and off the field. Guess, his retirement in way shows us the way of life. But it is those circumstances, those games, those heroic acts which will never escape the memories etched in us.

Dravid is a hero. A wounded one at times. And he has fought back always. An inspiration to the way of life. A genius who struggles at times. An artist so involved. A warrior and yet to so human.

Dravid, has been a treat. But it is the Dravid who has helped when we have felt a little scared and a little helpless. And will continue to be that source of inspiration. Hats off!

The story of the unknown

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There was  a man. He was unknown. He knew no one. Nobody knew him.

He lived. And lived on. Eternity it seemed. It probably was.

Nobody got him. He understood no one. It was probably why he was unknown.

His actions were in no way illegal or even immoral. But every one else seemed quite the immoral. Morality and popularity had a inverse correlation. The first step to popularity is to be liked. Our man was not easily liked too.

Or maybe there is no fairness. It is all pre-decided. Control is for ones who were on the right side of ‘like’.

One day he died alone. The world remained the same.
Unknown to him and likewise

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