Who needs drugs?

We lied there. Out of breath.
Covered with a sheet of satisfaction. of sweat.
A thought jumped my mind, like a chased hare.
I could die here. it said!

Belong. She said.
Not just to me.
Belong somewhere, someplace
that really erxists.

Wake Up. She said.
Live not just in a dream.
Live in this world of lies
and of greed.

Be a man.
Not just a spirit.
A man of this world,
not a distant dream.

Don’t Speak up.
Speak beautifully instead.
Hatred like effort is mere waste.
Don’t hate, don’t try to change. Just ignore.

A tie and a frown
do a man these make?
Why can’t I just flow?
Why shall a mould I take?

You say, be another shadow
and an untouchable dream,
It’s not me.
I am no form, no reason, no care.

Can’t you change a little for me my love?
said she in a mortal whisper.

I slayed it, burnt it and left it to rot.
My soul, my spirit and a vague dream

They all rot now, in some unknown dungeons.
They all rot now, in the shackles of our love.

I love your hair that flow like a verse,
And more I love your slender bosom,
He said with a smile, beneath his saffron shlokas.

I would shun my kingdom for you
And travel miles for another touch of your lips
He said as he grasped me in his princely hold. I just writhed.

I don’t have much to give you,
But I surrender my life, just another touch and I shall be thy slave
He said as I saw his wife waiting at the window.

You are like Mary pure and holy
I just feel you to rise higher and in hope of salvation
He said as he kept the crucifix beside the bed

Another one comes through the sinister doors,
He shies away and then comes again, staring at the floor.
He says, Let’s get over with this fast, I have to teach the history class

They all are in love with me,
My soul, my hair and what lies beneath
But when I break the blackened doors
And come out on the streets, to search for a free life

Some shy away, some stare in shock
A father of two says “I love you, but behind closed doors!”

All who found the temple in my arms and thighs,
Now just look at me.

In the fear of truth or in true malice?

Waves, dreams, life
Scream at me.
They claw at the walls,
I built for me.

Here they come gushing
I sit in solace.
Waiting. My eyes shut tight

For that taste of salt,
That is my fuel.
I reach for them
And when they are just a moment away
It dies.

It all dies
And what my hands feel
Are just corpses, of waves, dreams and life.

Still I wait, live another day
In hope of
Some wave, some dream, a life,
That will reach me with a light and a song!

Again I go to the Indian Overseas Bank at Nehru Place.. I hate that bank, I know I know I hate a hell lotta things in my life and this bank is one of them…

Karan said to me ”Dude You claim to be a follower of the flower childeren what happened to all the peace and love?  Why? Why do you hate these bank guys so much?”

I took a deep drag as I sat outside the bank waiting for my cheque to pass and hoping i wont pass away before it. I said “This bank is slow, yes slower than any ad agency. The moment I enter that dim lit bank, I feel like someone has hit fast forward button in my life and I’m a 60 year ol’ retired guy, whose children have abandoned him and he has come to the bank to collect the miserly pension money!” Why dad? why? did you open an account in this bank?

After a lot of struggle I finally got MY money from them!

When I came back to the office, the HR chick came to me and said your account can not be opened in HDFC, coz they are not accepting your learning license as a id proof. I screamed “Fuck Off” in my mind.

Anarchy forever!! or is it?

THE SYSTEM HAS ME!!

Its still two days to go before we leave for Goa.. but everyone around me is already in a vaccation mode.. I HATE THEM! You bastards cant just lie around doing nothing… Thats my right!

 Everyone’s on the net searching for maps, beaches, markets, adventure sports… bla blah blah.. And I aint no different I’m searching for rave parties in goa yeah inspite of the haul in Pune..  I read some interesting blogs about travellers who have been to goa.. and as I read about those firang dudes and chicks going globe trotting… Where the fuck do they get the cash to do all that I ask Karan trying to pull out whats left of my hair..

Then Ajanta comes and tells us how its all the currency difference, when they start off with $ 5000 and come to India it comes up to two lakhs and more in Indian rupees… And it’ll take me about 5 years to get that sorta money.. How kewl!

Karan comes up to me like those outlaws from the ol’ western movies with a cigarette hanging loose on his lips, and he says “Mah boi! Why aint u thinkin about a retirement and settlin’ down in some sleepy town around the beach. Where the waves touch your feet as you sit on the beach smokin and readin’ Galib and Gibran!”

Awesome these words transcend me to an ideal world but one of those waves that should touch my feet, hits me right in the face…and i wake up!! Asking for retirement before i finish my probation? Doesn’t sound very practical does it?

So here we are again, looking at the ceiling and thinking how? how the hell? can we travel around the nation, thump on our bikes across the mountains, rivers, deserts, forests… HOW?? HOw?? HOW?? someone tell me!!

Help!!

Me and Karan have become like characters from a Kafka novel and popped out in reality… This sunday morning we again set off to search for that ultimate truth that the two urchins waited for in Beckett’s play, that K always roamed around and grasp. Out truth here was that ‘perfect cuppa tea’ in Delhi.

 First let me get it all out the people here in Delhi just don’t know how to make tea, they just can’t.. I miss sitting outside IIM Ahmedabad wall, as Rambhai poured in some strong tea, and ofcourse the navy cuts and meaningless ramblings were all a part of it.

Cut to Delhi: No cutting!!

SO this time Karan saw this travel program on Discovery channel and saw a kittli wala near Jama Masjid. So the game was set. Parathe wali gali, jama masjid and some good tea..This time Mahim had also joined us not in search for tea but for the parathas and the old dilli experience..

So we hit the parathe wali gali stuffed ourselves with parathas dipped, immersed in pure 100% FAT. and yes that really rockin lassi… then we had a pan and Karan and mahim had jalebis.. Ok so now the tea better be good… We went to Jamma Masjid got ripped at the gate, by the ol’ dude who charged us 10 bucks each for keeping our chappals.. BASTARD!

We climbed a minaret there… It was pitch dark, and it just didn’t get over, we climbed and climbed and climbed, and panted and climbed as the staircase got narrower.. Karan rightly said “It’s like a nightmare where you keep on going in an endless tunnel” but it was all worth it. there was a beautiful view…

So we hit the chai ki kitli and it was grand in its way… the guy was making some 60 cups of tea in 30 seconds but…

It was SHIT! I still had some hope and asked for a cup of tea without milk, i just couldn’t resist the taste of good tea when I saw that crimson red liquid filled in those glasses with smoke rising… so i ordered for one… Karan and Mahim stared at me searching for an expression of disgust as they expected me to spit the tea and walk off, but i didn’t i had the tea..

We went to Karims hogged again.

And an end of another day, another journey, we shall start again tomorrow, in search for a cup of tea… Will I end like Kafka and his characters or will I someday find good tea in Delhi.

Last night, it was perfect. IDEAL! It was drizzling and I left for Turquoise Cottage and planned to meet the office guys there, enjoy some ol’ school rock n roll over chilled beer… Ah perfect I say!

So I reached TC and as usual the bouncer dude didn’t let me in, he thought I was under age… Blah blah babble babble…… And as usual the Anil talked to the manager and they let me in! It was unusually vacant, Ajanta, Prerna, Suneha, Neha, Rohit and Vaibhav were all sitting on a table, Puru had gone to pick up his date… but we were pretty fortunate to grab a table on a wednesday night eh?

Ordered some beer, the dj was belting some Doors and Led Zepp.. WE chatted, we smoked, we drank and we felt hungry… At around 2 we all left… Others left for home and Me, Puru, Neha and Vaibhav decided to grab some hot dogs from TwentyFour Seven. Neha was friggin drunk, and she wont admit it, Puru’s head was spinning owing to the chocolates he had.. so we reached Saket to catcha coupla bites. Neha was sitting outside when i reached, screaming for chocolates, Puru and Vaibhav were inside getting Hot dogs.. We ate, we had some Cola, roamed around, tried to convince Neha that she shouldn’t eat chocolates and then gave up and bought her some Dairy Milk…

They were off, I went to pick up Janis-my bike, from the parking lot.. I searched for cash in my never ending pockets which are like a storehouses with lighters, cigarettes, papers, more useless papers, chocolate wrappers everything but money. The guard there asks me “Bhaiya, paise rehne do, cigarette pila do!”

I could use some company while I smoke, I said to myself. And lit a cigarette for me  and him. Then he asked me what do i do? To avoid a long conversation about advertising and how it has ruined many a lifes, i said I’m a writer.

At this he said “likhte to hum bhi hain!” I asked him to quote something and he said

 ” Chaman ujad gaya

par kuch nishaan abhi baaki hai,

kaise keh de ke rishte saare toot gaye

jab rishtaae parvadigaar abhi baaki hai!”

I rode back home, smiling dreamingly as his voice kept ringing in my head!