..Of Bombs, bullets, blood and break

** First things first. The Mumbai carnage has completely knocked me off. My favorite place, going all bloody, turning so ugly. A bunch of brain-washed youths, went berserk and brought the Momma--I--won't--sleep city to a standstill. The majestic Taj Hotel, that orange-domed beauty.. home to those pigeons..the dream elements that complete the picture of Mumbai. If you were ever to dream of Mumbai, pigeons would come there...flying and pecking on the grains strewn on the ground before the Gateway of India. Now that orange globe is all charred. From being an eyecandy to an eyesore. It's has been a disastrous metamorphosis. And all that brought about in some 48 hours!! I was so shocked by the whole development that I remained glued to the TV the whole day. For the first time in my life, I prayed for the death of someone. Yes. Call me a shrimp for that. But I want those terrorists dead. I know I am not the one with the gun in his hands. I, for that matter don't even have the power to sustain the recoil. But I am angry. And proper anger is all you need to hold a gun, for the right reasons.

** Exams were on. And the computer center remained occupied all through the day. Given that I had played truant and had killed time while all were pulling every last bit of hair out of their scalps, I had tons of notes to go through. In limited time, I had unlimited things to do. But I managed to do something, somehow. A friend of mine often reminds me of a way to turn even a dead fish into a pro- swimmer. When you know that an alligator is after you in the pool, you automatically start to swim!!!

** Home, here I come. On 2nd December, I am all set to dash to my place ( Ok. Don't laugh. It takes 33 hours by train. Every journey is supposed to end.) . I got to meet mom, dad and friends. I am very much a momma's kid. I pester her for money. I buy vegetables and all the groceries while I am around. There is a fun in doing that.

** It's quite possible that I might not be around to blog or converse on Orkut, this december. But, I hope that I won't be forgotten. Some might even miss me!! ( See..that beam on your face..!!).

Till then go for a different movie all-together. This theatre is closed because the owner hasn't paid his taxes and is absconding. Probably I would resurface when the time is right.

Chao. Have a nice time.

On "losing" and "winning" ..

It has been a busy time for me. Packed with daily bull-shit, diurnal chores and overnight slogging out and mugging. Obviously, in these terrible times of grime and sweat, the "bloglobe" ( a new word??) got left out. But, now I am back, at least for a while to keep turning the wheel. There are some stories to be told, again in bits and shreds. But, tales for tomorrows. Today, its sermon time. Not teaching per se, but some thoughts strewn on the fabric of life. Here I go jotting. And you? Well, if you have come this far, I hope you would go a li'l further.


The title itself is a giveaway. "Winning" / "Losing". The two proverbial verbs that have had the world reeling and vying to pull each others pants down. Everyone trying to outpace his opponents. Grab collars, warm palms, swear, abuse, curse, sweat, conspire, reach for your sickle, clench your fist, slit throats.... Victory. Whatever it takes. Wherever it takes. Whatever it means.

Loss. Absence. Sweat gone in vain. Hopes flung brutally to the ground. Dreams shattered. Jibes of the cruel world. Evil smile of the victorious. Stupid, malicious consolations coming from happy-deep-within-but trying-to-be-sorry people, your conscious attempts to hide yourself from the world. a bitter pill to gulp. We put so many things at stake that losing becomes a disaster.

Whenever I lose something, I feel small. I feel insignificant. Coz, in your state of loss, the world acts cold and leaves you to your own elements. Coz, then, even your most loved ones look at you with unforgiving, accusing eyes.

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I have seen many defeats in my little life. You can say that my journey has been stuffed right up to my neck with tears, moans and moments of bitterness. And so ,few have savored victory in a way , I have. Coz, a victory only tastes sweet after you have had enough of chillies. Tell you what, try to lose. Sometimes willingly. For that smile on the victor's face. For that look of relief, for that sweet bow the lips carve after moment of victory arrives. For that joy which a prolonged wait for victory holds in itself. For that tapped frill in the expectation that a win is possible even after you lose most of the time . Lose. Believe me , you would only emerge a winner that way.

At least, I did.