Delhi promised

: Speak to me of civil war, I told Delhi.
: I will, she said.
: Speak to me of blood on the streets, I told Delhi.
: I will, she said.
: And if there is blood on these streets - I asked the city - do you promise that he'll be the first to go - that man with the fat folds under his neck?
: Promise!!!

The green of her eyes

The clue to everything a man should love and fear in her was there, right from the start, in the ironic smile that primed and swelled the archery of her full lips. There was pride in that smile, and confidence in the set of her fine nose. Without understanding why, I knew beyond question that a lot of people wound mistake her pride for arrogance, and confuse her confidence with impassivity. I didn't make that mistake. My eyes were lost, swimming, floating free in the shimmering lagoon of her steady, even stare. Her eyes were large and spectacularly green. It was the green that trees are, in vivid dreams. It was the green that the sea would be... if the sea were perfect!!!

In finding beauty

Do not laugh at me over what I call beautiful. Do not judge the things in which I find beauty. 
I find beauty in nothingness.
I find beauty in what you call a gloomy day. 
I find beauty in unanswered love, in failed love, in the final goodbye after the first night together and in never even knowing her name. 
I find beauty in rubble, in the scars on her body, in her damaged soul and in the ruins of her past. 
I find beauty in his failures, in his daily struggles, in his torn clothes, in his untimely grayed hair and in the wrinkles on his young forehead.
This beauty is not normal. And in return, normal is never beautiful.
Do not laugh at me if I can only write a sad song.
This beauty is not happiness, it is inspiration. This beauty is not satisfaction, it is mental stimulation.
This is not pleasure I'm talking about. This is beauty...

no title

I have happily given up my momentary flirtations with the art world, with the literary world. 
Who talks about art or literature these days? 
It's embarrassing, like talking about spirituality. There are some things we don't do, that should be left behind in the 1960's, left in reprints of Herbert read, in the hands of scientists who wax lyrical about the artistic element in chaos, in office workers wanting something more, in people going back to the art school after years in the lawn mowing business, left with people it might mean something to as part of a deep personal commitment thing, of how they position a great beyond to the exigencies of daily pain and personal tragedy and misery. 
I want no part of that... 
I'm nestled safe in the coarse blanket of societal norms and people's expectations. I think I'll be happy!!!

When at powercut

Power cut!!! And when at 4am your ac and fan suddenly go dead, you wake up in Thar in summer solstice. My British friend is sleeping in the other room, probably all sweaty. Now I feel unnecessarily guilty as well, dayum. My neighbour texts me from the opposite apartment. "Kya karen?"...

So the demographic of my whole apartment building is like 5 single ladies, one ancient couple (very old, I mean) and their equally old servants, one invisible doctor family and an ever changing group of hipsters! So basically, I'm the man of the building. Or so I like to think.

Now when a lady texts you "Kya karen" at this panic situation, you need to understand it's your cue to get into action. Well this lady is a true blue pedigree Delhiite. And they're not used to power cuts. And if it happens, there better be a good reason and it better be settled fast.
Now from where I am, power cuts are routine. I'm used to a different culture. In Dibrugarh, if electricity goes, nobody questions. They just wait for an hour. And like clockwork, power does resume after an hour. Almost every house has an inverter nowadays.
I open my windows and the thumping of these rich people's gensets reach my bedroom. Delhi likes everything loud. From their Enfields with customised 'silencer' pipes, their make up and now even their electricity back-ups!
My neighbour texts again. "This is not done".
So I get up from bed, make a call to #BSES customer care and lodge a complain.
I am informed that the whole of Hauz Khas and Green Park is suffering a black out. And by the time I finish writing probably it'll be back..................

Nope....

Still nope.... No sign of it!

Well, maybe by the time I post it, electricity will be back. And so if you live in this 'posh' area and suffering from this black out, 9Gag and chill for a while and it'll be back...
I'll just take my dog out for a walk!!!

My nightmares

When your nightmares come to life
When they're worse than what you dared never dream
How many falls will one take
Before his hands tire of brushing off the dust off his pants
Before his bruised knees can't take any more
Before his legs fail his weight
Why does his lantern not meet an object to shine upon
Why is the right thing to do also the hardest thing to do
What holds
What gives
What is the answer???

My tryst with INS Viraat

This is about a morning many summers back, when I was a young gentleman cadet in this elite academy, perched atop a hillock in the picturesque Goa, wrapped on its three sides by the beautiful river Mandovi. 
We were a small privileged batch of selected 14 who were chronically sleep deprived. Our mornings started at 0500 hours with morning muster and PT. 
That day, around 0830 hours, as we were marching towards our classroom after a heavy 3 course breakfast, we were told that the day’s classes were canceled and we had to go on a field trip. We boarded a bus and the moment the wheels set in motion, half of us, including yours truly, had dozed off.
I woke up to the stirred up smells of iron, rust, paint and the smoke of heavy fuel oil that’s quintessential to sea ports.
We got down, walked for a few minutes, and stood in formation in front of something. Facing me was a large Grey wall whose ends on my left and right, I could not see. It was much taller than a multi-storied building and its walls were chock-a-block with pipes of various dimensions. I could see window like openings from where men appeared to be busy at work.
Our guide, a lieutenant, pointed at the wall and told us, “Gentlemen, this here, in front of you, is India’s biggest ship, Aircraft Carrier INS Viraat.”
That was my first tryst with the then, and emotionally now, pride of the Indian Navy. We were lucky that INS Viraat had just docked in Goa, and we were the chosen batch, to the utter envy of our seniors who haven’t had the opportunity yet.
The memory of the next 3 hours on board the monumentally majestic INS Viraat will always remain deeply etched in my mind.
Today, INS Viraat formally gets decommissioned from the Indian Navy.
May your glory live long! Adieu, you mighty one!!!