-A window ajar is a prelude in building to the joy of being limitless! That uneasiness of being familiar somehow, sometime, somewhere.......

Sunday, April 30, 2006


Weirdincident...[1] also called, When a naked woman waves at you in the night?

Lets see how what happened one night late winter. I was carrying a cold around and you know how a head carrying around the cold feels, awfully heavy and weird as if you are pregnant in your head, a vague debilitating feeling which prompts questions like how many cartoon characters you know that have committed suicide? Under such difficult circumstances, S asked me for a drink down the pub, though it was a weekday given my state, I thought it wasn’t a bad idea at all and as expected we had a fairly good time but were unable to escape darkly futile detours like how many cartoon characters we knew that had committed suicide? But by and large it wasn’t too bad at all and after returning I went straight to bed only to be awakened by my head crying itself in pain at 3 am so naturally I went to the kitchen to pop a couple paracetamols and as I peered at the darkness through the window I saw a bare-naked glowing feminine form, lovely and pale, smiling and waving at me, given the state of my head and the drink inside it I waved back impulsively without sparing a thought and duly went back to bed only did when I realise the nature of the incident and returned back to the window to find nothing , no man or woman waving , not even a sausage; oh the old mind playing tricks or the drink or the cold or perhaps a combination of all, I buried myself beneath the linens of a cliché and went to deep dark noiseless sleep and when I woke up P was smiling her lovely smile and making me a fresh coffee, morning I wished back and during the course of conversation casually remarked about the incident and she first thought I was taking the mick out but then scoffed saying she had found a marble underneath the bed last night to which I promptly replied mine were fine the last time I checked and then I asked her two questions - 1 How many cartoon characters she knew that have killed themselves? and 2 Does she believe in ghosts? She disdainfully dismissed in one stroke of feminine genius saying ah you should watch your drink , but the cheeky girl she is,worried within that someone was trying to seduce me, had walked all the way through to the security office which led to the cctv footage of the night in question to be scanned frame by frame and eventually culminated in me discovering in the newspaper the following day that some religious cult was hanging around in the vicinity of my backyard having orgies at late night; I, of course was filled with a deep sense of regret to have missed the opportunity that would have gone directly up to the top five of the 100 things about me chartlist, oh what a miss,I had pictured myself proudly saying gentleman and ladies, ask not what syphilis did to you , ask what you did to the syphilis? and how you did it? but for now I just pray and hope at nights standing before the window not minding the three cameras that have been newly fitted for an omen.
So dear reader, kindly do something more than waving back at the naked woman who waves at you in the night from outside a window for these days not everyone can have the chance to be in an orgy , Heck ! How many cartoon characters you know who were in an orgy anyway?

Sunday, April 23, 2006

Multicolour Multicultural Britain?

Camden Market, London.

A Thank you to the kind shop-fellas who glady obliged.

Monday, April 17, 2006

There goes another novel....

~After all the hunting, have finally laid my hands on this precious photo of my two personal Gods: Marilyn reading Ulysses. A sublime symbol of what God and Man are best capable of.

Now, as the frame adorns my study wall, I contently sip my tea marvelling at its beauty, split between my admiration for Ulysses and adoration for Monroe, telling to myself, how it was all worth the time and quid. To borrow Monsieur Balzac, Yes, there goes another novel....



~Yet another Hyde Park sunset; a serene feeling beyond the confines of any medium.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006


Her name is Rose marie Higgins. The wise may feel otherwise but No, its not okay to call a Rose by any other name. Two sugars including.
PS; Lunch time flashlog.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Being PC...

a political/personal detour:
If asked to choose one man in contemporary politics who has impressed me the most, it has to be undoubtedly him.He could be best described only by borrowing an american term -the balls !
With all the misgivings included, he is growing more cunning by the day.
And I say Balls not in any frivolous or blasphemous sense , I say as it fits in perfectly- If you have something to say and are unable to keep it to your glorious self, you speak to the concerned and to the face; with your head held high and shoulders raised tall, and not speak to his/her back or in his/her absence.
Thats not balls, thats rationalization of self pity.
For eg, writing a blog about someone who cant defend himself or herself is not a testimonial. There is no honour in that.Absolutely none.Whatsover. Even skewed education or disturbed mothers cant be blamed for that.
For those who mistake blogs for testimonials, vide roman wisdom- latin: testis, testify, testimonial et al, you swear holding your balls in front of the involved. And say whatever you wanted , to the face.
That is the measure of your worth.

Sunday, April 09, 2006


Lets do a J Locke on water.
Think water.
Think how a sparkly drop slithers off gracefully from the tip of the tangerine leaf onto the one below , think how the ripples in a pond grow and grow into their own slow death.
Think how slimy heavywet your socks feel after an accidental rainpuddlewalk, or how the fingertips feel as you write on a moist puffedamp window pane.
Think how it is to hear the cavernous eternity of the tides roaring one after the other lying on a beach, or the tap that leaks so excruciatingly on a lazy afternoon.
Think of that watertaste on your parched tongue just after a long summer run, or think of how heavy and pregnant the evening smells just before a tropical rain.
Yes that water.
If original thought is regarded the prized accomplishment of man as a being, then water is the thought of nature. The undeniable symbol of the eternity of being and becoming.
Water is the visible form of the universe.

Think water, think life.

On a Motorway.

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