Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Chocolate And Fire

Blurry visions of butterflies and rainbows, smoothly morphing into visions of violence. Violence and Fire. Violence in Fire. A distant acrid smell of tyres burning, too?

An 8 year old child, cute, innocent, clever, bright blue eyes, buries a bar of chocolate in the ground. Pats the mound of mud once she's done "hiding" her chocolate. She smiles a happy contented smile. Just the way an 8 year old can. Her white frock jingles hidden tunes, dances with glee and exudes an innocence. Just the way an 8 year old's frock can. She turns around, screams. Screams a terrible scream. Just the way an 8 year old can.

Her white frock catches fire. She writhes in agony. Agony that is capable of washing away innocence, happiness, the characteristic "8 year old's" smile and memories of buried chocolate. All gone. In a flash. In a possible eternity.

The 'morrow cometh, and the fires have subsided. There is a body which once held life, once had bright blue eyes, once clothed by a white frock, now covered in 3rd degree fire burns, now lifeless. No smile, possibly a frown. Charred remains, lying on top of some buried chocolate. Sadly, just the way an 8 year old can...


A curse on those senseless ones. Ones who burn mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers and innocent little children in the name of Religion, Death of an idol, and to subvert others for their own perverted pleasures. In memory of all those who had to give up their futures and their lives. Maybe these harbingers of doom should see the world for how delightfully happy it is. Just the way an 8 year old can...

Tuesday, April 18, 2006


His body ached with the scars of the bloody battle. But in the end, it was he had won after all. The skies poured a cleansing rain. Extinguished the fires. Washed away the evils inflicted by the scourge.

He saw the smiles and the pride on the faces of his friends, his elders and his lover. And he climbed onto that majestic rock. That rock, standing upon the the end-point of which, everything he could see till the horizon was his Kingdom. A Kingdom, rightfully his, now reclaimed from a tyrant.

His every step reeked with a majestic nature as his body inched forward to the very end of this monumental rock. And he roared. He roared a roar that instilled happiness and pride in recognizing their true King. A King who remembered who he was. His Father's Son and the One True King. King Simba on Pride Rock, destined to continue the Circle of Life.


I positively LOVE the ending of LION KING. One helluva movie!!!

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Strange Brew 2

Finch wrote :

Strange Brew

The Crapper commented :

Strange Brew 2

Tightly sealed


Raw barley
Single Malt

Memories of two kids
playing Hopscotch.
A whiff...
of butterscotch

Quoth a distant scorn
- "Bottle not"?
A delicate balance
Ingredients well mixed.

Seal the bottle.
Hold the wine.
Sand becomes pearl
Pearl becomes thine.

A divine whiff
Solitude of a Kiss
Wet, bittersweet
Moments in clarity

Older, the better.
Through delicate a fetter.

Tightly sealed
Truly, this vintage...


True love is like a pillow you can hug when you're in trouble, you can cry on when you're in pain and you can embrace when you're happy. So when you need true love, spend Rs.50/- and Buy a Pillow.

If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?

If it were truly the thought that counted, more women would be pregnant.

If they don't have Chocolate in Heaven, I ain't going.

God made Grass, Man made Booze. Whom do you trust?

Home is where the Television is.

God is Real, unless declared Integer.

Two wrongs don't make a right, but three rights make a left.

Alcohol and Calculus don't mix. Never Drink and Derive.

I don't have a License to Kill. I have a Learner's Permit.

No trees were killed in the creation of this blog post. However, many electrons were terribly inconvenienced.