A Bowl of Elusive

It was the summer of ’05. And we were in love, all consuming, unadulterated and absolute love. She wore frocks, pastel colored and covered in flowers. She was chubby and jolly and wore her curls with an attitude. And she used to smell like a baby. We were young and adventurous. And had all afternoons to ourselves, warm windy afternoons. Holding hands, playing with each other’s fingers, talking about the future, we were only 15. Completely oblivious to the rocky future we were going to have, we sat there swooning over each other, just breathing each other in. It was warm and she had a few buttons undone. Her dress slipped off of one shoulder, baring a portion of her beautiful full breast. She didn’t bother to straighten up even though I was looking. Right then, we knew. Things would happen. I was shy yet hopeful. And she read my mind. A storm was raging outside and it kept getting dark. We were close to each other, tiny whispers filling the space between us. Then she cau

I was browsing through some of my old works when I came across this piece. I must have written it sometime between 2003 to 2005. Surprisingly, its an awareness builder, by a 14 year old. Check it out. “Recently while humming to one of Reshammiya’s tune near the water tank, I heard some boys talking about sex_a favourite topic among boys. I stood there listening (now! Don’t stare at me like that.) Very soon, condoms and AIDS found their way into the conversation. And then, I was struck by an amazing fact…these boys (all of them were from high school) were largely misinformed about the deadly disease. They believed in many superstitions related to sexuality. So I thought it my duty to tell them what the truth is. And when I started, I was asked a lot of embarrassing questions; many of them were obscene in the manner in which they were asked. I could have told them to stop talking dirty. I could have gone away from them: but I chose to overlook the filth and answered most of t

Now this is a story not a lot of people know. I will be changing a few details for the sake of everyone. The super-cyclone of October 1999 was dark, fierce and devastating. But a strange calm fell upon the land once it was over. Thinking back on those days, I might say it reflected on the life I had back then. Having been appointed into a new job after leaving the air force, my father had to move to Choudwar in 1996. Divorced and single, he had to toggle between a job and his 6 year old son. So he appointed a governess/care-taker of sorts for me. Funny how things turn sour before you have time to blink your eye. She was a horror. My father kept busy with his job and was absolutely indulgent whenever he was home. But that wasn’t most of the time. This woman, lets call her Meena, used to beat up till I bled. She used to verbally abuse me, saying terrible things about my parents and family. She used to starve me. All this started gradually, mind you, and maybe that’s w

I wrote this poem back in 2004-05, when I was in high school. I had written it for a girl named Asha. (“Asha” means “HOPE” in Hindi.) I never told this to anyone as I was seeing someone else at that time and I didn't want anyone to know I had a crush on Asha. ;-) “She is sweet like candy And pretty like Eve. Hi, she says And gives you a smile. Dark beautiful long hair; Black eyes which look like Oceans overflowing. Her lips like molten chocolate Shiver, when she speaks. Her cheeks so filled with blood Inflict life unto you. Her skin glows like burning gold; Her eyes like balls of desire. Yet its not exactly Her beauty that kills, But the love that You feel when she is around. Its hope inflicted on a dying man. HOPE_ that’s her name. That’s the name of the Pretty damsel. Its true_ you feel loved, But you can never really know If she loves you or not. Now that’s what t’is like With angels. As they are Rarely se

I am one of those guys who find dressing up a big hassle. I dress comfortable. And that becomes a problem due to the unavailability of clothes my size. I mean its not like I am plus sized or anything. But for my country, I am pushing on the commonly accepted largest shirt and trouser sizes. Result: The clothes I buy are usually larger than I am. Coz the alternative is buying the smaller size which fits me a little too snugly than I would prefer. Add to this the fact that I have been staying all alone for the last few years and we don’t have laundromats in India. So I end up wearing clothes that don’t fit me well and my wardrobe is repetitive. This in turn messes with my confidence when I go out, in spite of the fact that I am tall and don’t look too bad. The solution here would be to take better care of my clothes but I never seem to have time for that. And India being a hot and polluted country, I perspire. So my clothes get soiled faster. I wish there was some p

Like I have mentioned earlier, I am an orphan and was raised by my grandparents. Sounds sweet to a lot of you out there, doesn't it? Indulgent grandparents is the usual image that pops into people’s minds. But its a little different in real life. You see when you are orphaned and come to live with your grandparents, they assume the role of parents and for all intents and purposes, they become your parents. And thats where the problem starts. Being raised by people who are 57 years older than you are poses challenges that you normal kids out there will not understand. And add to that the fact that I was born to a generation that saw the Technological Revolution happening, and you’ve got mayhem! The generation gap wouldn't have been such a pain had it not been for the Technology Gap. I mean I was a quiet kid, I was never really a rebel. But my grandparents’ aversion to new technology kept getting on my nerves. You see, a lot of my father’s peers have actually adopt

I remember having quite an imaginative mind as a child. I used to day-dream a lot, often about having powers, super powers, about flying, about aliens. (Sometimes, I still do.) And I used to write about my fantasies. So my characters were inspired from books I used to read, movies I watched or the crazy collection of comic books which my pocket money went into buying. I remember a story I wrote in middle school. It was about an Indian archaeologist excavating a dinosaur fossil in Costa Rica and dreaming about the extinction of dinosaurs. It was called “The Jurassic Dreams“. (I will try to post it here sometime.) I chose my uncle to be the first reader for my story. After all, he was the one who had inspired me to read books. Alas! It was a stupid decision. This is what he said: ” Its a nicely written story, but Ian, you must start writing about things you have experienced, places you have been to, otherwise your stories will never be authentic.” No offense to my uncle, may G

For a major part of my life, my family history has haunted me. Its a sad history…you know, the usual: Abandoned by mum at the age of three, father died when I was ten, brought up by old grandparents. Its a sad story and I have lived in its shadow for so long. But not any more. Its funny growing up. Things change. My history was forgotten as soon as I got a job and started fending for myself. Now I am identified by what I do. And all the old things are forgotten. And its a good thing. Coz now I can confess that being an orphan came with its perks. I mean the sympathy that I used to get when I was younger was just tremendous. And like all manipulative teens, I used it to my advantage several times, be it with teachers or girls! Seriously, the sob story got me my first two girlfriends!!! But the story has been retired now. And it seemed fair to bid it adieu formally with this blog! Goodbye, SAD PAST !!!

I wasn't born this way. For a large part of my life, I too lived under the impression that my life, my thoughts, my experiences, my struggles (and everything that is about me) mattered in this world. Boy! Was I wrong! Its naive and its a delusion all of us carry, even though we know better. Because it gives us the strength to get up in the morning, this feeling that people are waiting for us to speak or act. … I know around 80% of the people who started reading this post have drifted off by this point. And that is exactly the point I was making!!! For anyone who is still reading, you are either my girlfriend, a friend or maybe (fingers crossed!) someone who actually wants to read what I am about to write. Irrespective, its my duty at this point to tell you what I am gonna write about in this blog. This blog: Is a loose semi-fictional narration of my life, experiences & fantasies. Might contain explicit/sexual/disturbing details at times. Might not