I have seen a dream.
And every moment
away from the dream
is a lifetime spent
desolate oceans of suffering
where I leave the city lights
And kiss the bloody nights.
these saddest lines I write.
I have spent many lifetimes
And will spend many more.
I yearn for the distant shore,
But I'm afraid no more.
I fervently hope for hope
Cos' tonight it hurts the most.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
I have seen a dream.
Monday, February 19, 2007
The TDP (The Ten Day Plan)
Prologue: Not to be confused with the Telugu-Desam Party of Andhra Pradesh. Andhra Pradesh politics is neither relevant nor does it influence the story in any way.
Day 1 - Because of unemployment problems, ten Malayalis-from-Kerala (For obvious reasons, it will not be possible to henceforth refer to them as MfKer's) are forced to go to different parts of Pakistan, each possessing ten rupees in his pocket.
Day 2 - With lightning speed, efficiency and the highly ingenious Malayali business buddhi, tea shops are setup with highly limited resources (ten rupees!) multiplied into a considerable sum on Day 1 using sundry means; effectively shaming Hitler's blitzkrieg attacks and giving Harvard MBA's a run for their money.
Tea shops attract heavy crowds. Demand for cigarettes and tea far greater than supply.
Day 3 - Phone calls are exchanged between Malayalis in Pakistan, the Gulf and Kerala to address the demand-supply issue.
Day 4 - Malayalis from Kerala pour in and setup tea estates using raw material sourced from Munnar to maintain consistency in the end-product (Tea).
Marlboro, seeing opportunity and sensing huge financial gains, seeks entry into Pakistan's tobacco market. Large investments are made. Land is acquired, farms are setup. The finest quality Tobacco plants are sourced from various parts of the world (from Malayalis, of course) and transplanted on a massive scale to the farms in Pakistan.
The Malayali GM invites old booze-buddies in the Gulf to come down to Pakistan, help him manage Marlboro's financial interests and set up an investment portfolio for adequate asset management. Each of the Booze-buddies, in turn, gets each of his eight brothers-in-law' to Pakistan to help manage the 'company'.
Day 5 - Union of Malayali Tea Stall Owners (UMTSO) is formed. Malayali GM leaks sensitive information to UMTSO. UMTSO, with the help of a generous bribe in favour of Gen. Pervez Musharraf, use 'borrowed' military forces to take over the tobacco industry in a bloodless coup d'etat effectively usurping Marlboro's investments and kicking it out of Pakistan.
Day 6 - Union of Malayali Tea Stall Owners (UMTSO) is officially recognised as a Political union. Visa-less entry of Malayalis into Pakistan is approved.
Day 7 - Heavy business all over Pakistan continues on Day 7. Malayali tea-stall owners rake in tremendous amounts of money. Even more Malayalis from Kerala enter Pakistan to form a support system for the 'fledgling' Tea Stall industry. Duty-free Mundu import begins. (For the uninitiated, Mundu is the piece of clothing similar to a lungi, but white or off-white in colour. The part of the Mundu covering the left leg is usually held in the left hand so that a hairy left leg is revealed while the hairy right leg is off bounds and hence covered. Asymmetry in nature, perhaps?)
Union of Malayali Tea Stall Owners (UMTSO) formalizes and incepts the Organized Tea Stall Industry (OTSI), a corporation where each Tea-Stall owner is a shareholder. An IPO is launched.
Day 8 - Stock exchanges in Karachi, Islamabad and Lahore see heavy buying because of OTSI's IPO. Ketan Parekh, specially flown in by R&AW to capitalize on the situation, engineers a stock-market scam causing heavy losses to all Pakistani corporations. OTSI now controls 98% of Pakistan's trade.
Day 9 - Union of Malayali Tea Stall Owners (UMTSO) becomes Central Malayali Workers Support Union CPI(M) - CMWSU CPI(M). Gen. Pervez Musharraf is deposed in another bloodless coup d'etat by CMWSU CPI(M) (which won over the militia with Twelve-Year FREE-Chai-Sutta incentives). A puppet government is installed.
Day 10 - CMWSU CPI(M) government cuts funding to terrorist organizations in entirety and offers Twelve-Year FREE-Chai-Sutta relief packages to surrendering terrorists. Terrorists, now deprived of money, 'see the truth'. Terror mechanism is completely dismantled, thus ending 18 years of insurgency. Pakistan officially becomes the 29th state of the Indian Union.
Epilogue: Kashmir valley has demilitarised and the conflict has finally ended. Hindus and Muslims no longer fight for territory. Thanks to the enterprising Malayali, Peace reigns, occasionally interrupted by lots of stamped-upon-cigarette-packs-or-cigarette-butts lying on the road and tea-glasses flying pell-mell during times of internal power struggles of the CMWSU CPI(M).
Economic warfare rocks.
Etched, by Anonymous ; 5:26 am
Monday, February 12, 2007
I am a blogger. I read blogs, analyze content, stimulate my senses and put thoughts to words. Now here I was, ready to wind up my affairs for the day when I happened to chance across the word 'atmospherics' on Nandan's blog. A desire for further information led to clicking of hyperlinks that would unknowingly transport me across oceans of time and cyberspace in the hope of presenting a neutral picture of things that were. But what followed was a 7-hour epic journey tilting the scales of my mind towards pride, and prejudice.
War of 1947
War of 1965
War of 1971
Siachen Conflict (1)
Siachen Conflict (2)
(I was reminded of Lata Mangeshkar's tribute to our heroes - Aye Mere Watan Ke Logon. These links are the untold tales of courage and heroism, of the lives that have been sacrificed to keep you and I - the ordinary citizen, safe.)
Siachen, a tactical nightmare, is the world's highest battleground. And Siachen and surrounding areas are exactly where the largest troop mobilizations since World War II have taken place; during the Indo-Pak Wars, of course.
Pakistan occupies two-fifths of Kashmir, a territory that was long acceded to India. I do not live in Kashmir, and I am very much ignorant of complex issues that exist there. But even a person whose IQ test returns negative scores can voice out a protest asking Pakistan to get the hell out of Kashmir simply because we have the balls to believe in secular ideology. And they don't. I shall now refrain from writing more about Pakistan's claim on Kashmir because my views are already biased, and quite possibly, distorted.
I shall now digress a bit.
Wikipedia took me places. And I spent a good amount of time reading about the CIA, KGB, MI6, Mossad and of course, our very own R&AW. (R&AW enjoys an undisclosed budget and is an organization free from political interference.) And as I read I vaguely traced the evolution of these, if you wish to call them that, agencies. I wonder if at some point of time, R&AW would evolve into an Indianized version of the CIA or KGB. Some say it is preferable that R&AW remain as unheard-of as possible because anonymity is an edge a secret service agency definitely needs.
It's funny how we acknowledge and glorify people who mostly do not deserve it. Shilpa Shetty won Big Brother? I don't give a fuck. Sanjay Dutt is fighting in court? I don't give a fuck either. Shilpa Shetty is hot and I love Munnabhai and Gandhigiri and all, but I still don't give a fuck.
Doubt might be percolating and you now might ask, whose picture is that? And how is it related to what he's rambling on about?
The gentleman in the picture, my friend, is Rameshwar Nath Kao.
He is the man responsible for setting up R&AW, and also the Intelligence 'System' of Ghana. A few days back I read an article by Shashi Tharoor where he recollected the honour of having spoken in honour of R.N. Kao at R&AW HQ. (The operatives prefer to call it R&AW as opposed to RAW.) He lamented that not many people knew who R.N. Kao was, or his contribution to India's development. It was then that I decided that one of these days, I would post something about him.
This is my tribute to this unsung hero, whose noble nature and determined efforts were responsible for kick-starting India's Intel. It is because of him that I can, without worrying about a bullet through my skull or a bomb on my roof, leisurely type this post sipping my supposedly organic tea.
Etched, by Anonymous ; 4:50 am
Friday, February 09, 2007
Dreamed a dream
Not in White and Black.
Ain't technicolour either,
'Twas a Black within Black
A New Meridian in Create,
A mind of Black,
The Light of Day did Rape.
My corroded heart did sing
Them Black Sonnets
And my Soul become half-part
Of those Tenebrous Tenets
Black, is the color of nothing
Black, is the colour of everything
Black, is what the universe is
Black, is what pure is
Black, is her who blazed life in a void so sour
Black, is her who shimmered away into colour.
Etched, by Anonymous ; 11:54 pm
Thursday, February 08, 2007
I don’t know what went wrong.
I really don’t.
Another crash. Fuck. And it’s not even 4 hours since I got my bike from the service centre. Thankfully, no damage to the bike except a broken rearview mirror.
Just when things were looking bright.
It’s as if fate's just stabbed you, and you know that fate will stab you many more times till you die of multiple stab wounds. And time is watching you, laughing as you slowly bleed to death and your soul is slipping beyond reality, into darkness. And there's that familiar hollow feel within.
Maybe experience distorts the concept of strength. Have I even lost the strength to tell fate – "Fuck you!", and move on refusing to give in? Once the process of giving in starts, it never stops.
I want to fight this battle, and resist giving in. But I’m lost, without a sense of direction. The blindness that seeps in is probably the deepest black. As days pass, this blackness shades deeper.
Statistically speaking, humans shouldn't exist. They're an anomaly. But we're here, and that's what matters.
It's that small sliver of chance I'm looking for.
And I live on in this twilight zone, searching for hope.
Maybe it’s my karma catching up to me.
Etched, by Anonymous ; 11:36 pm
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It is a very mean and nasty place and it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't how hard you hit; it's about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward. How much you can take, and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done. Now, if you know what you're worth, then go out and get what you're worth. But you gotta be willing to take the hit, and not pointing fingers saying you ain't where you are because of him, or her, or anybody. Cowards do that and that ain't you. You're better than that!
Etched, by Anonymous ; 1:27 am
Ever wondered what it's like to lose a loved one in the midst of riots? Not know whether they're alive or dead?
Parzania, the tale of a Parsi family trapped in the midst of the riots in Gujarat, is a must-watch. The gore and raw violence are intensely real and shakes the viewer thoroughly. However, the performance of the actors is not up to the mark; especially Naseeruddin Shah, who was a tad bit disappointing. But Parzania hits the heart, and hits hard imparting a very genuine 'feel' to the burning hatred. Half the theatre shedding tears was well justified. Although some facts appear biased, even distorted, the message delivered is crisp - NO to riots.
Etched, by Anonymous ; 12:57 am