tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86308531678090601632024-03-14T03:37:20.623-07:00TWISTED CHILLIESBeing a writer is easy .Just strip completely and throw yourself on the paperForked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.comBlogger203125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-87654703571366720442017-05-03T08:45:00.001-07:002017-05-03T08:45:03.385-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Religion is beyond superstitions and political propagandas. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It is that 5minutes of solace you find when you bow your head and breathe in the incense. The tinkle of the bell, the beads of the rosary, the momentary silence.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It reflects in the words written eons ago. Names of deities written with such painstaking love and beauty.</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />The reciting of scriptures that carry even deeper meanings (should one care to decipher them) and the relief (delusional as it may seem) one feels when one places oneself in the hands of something greater.<br /><br />In the last pews of the church, religion sits between clasped hands. In the light of the dawn, it shivers with the wick of the lamp.<br /><br />On one hand, it has been twisted by men over the ages. On the other, it has expanded it's folds to include millions who had nothing else to believe in. And kept them afloat.<br /><br />Religion does not requires blind belief. It requires understanding.<br />- Akshay</span></div>
Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-29683126058323370002017-05-03T08:44:00.005-07:002017-05-03T08:44:41.725-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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'Aaj rang hai ri ..'<br /><br />She could hear ammi's record player whirring to life as she stepped out gingerly. Her footsteps measured, her heart thumping, her breath taut with anticipation.<br /><br />The very whiff of gulaal in the air made her shiver with excitement. Before she could breathe it all in, apa's bangle laden hand had dragged her away.<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"><br />The distant drums that reverberated in the old lanes of the forgotten city. The air thick with shreiks of laughter, giggles and guffaws.<br /><br />The hands that surrounded her. Soft, scented, wrinkled, rough, their palms submerged under the layers of colours upon them. Their fingers reeking of bhang. Their crudeness dissolved into mirth as they brushed layer upon layer on her.<br />She could count only so much. Her cheeks had been draped and coated, her hair suffused with dust, her clothes clinging to her threadbare frame, her ears itchy, her forehead smeared, her head reeling as she soaked it all in.<br /><br />It wasn't until Ammi came running with her stick and dark glasses that she realised how long had she been standing there.<br /><br />It was the one day of the year when she did not need those appendages. She had felt all that she needed to see.<br /><br />'Aaj rang hai ri ma, rang hai ri<br />More khwaja ke ghar rang hai ri'<br />( They are playing rang at my Lord's house today)<br />Ammi's record had been crooning all this while.<br /><br />- Akshay</span></div>
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Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-71953871607374436362017-05-03T08:44:00.003-07:002017-05-03T08:44:26.197-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It was in that tiny storeroom, that she conversed with her dead grandmother.<br /><br />Everything about the house was unremarkable. Patched plastered walls, creaking gate, the toilet with the wobbbly latch and dimly lit interiors.<br />If you could make your way up to the dark little storeroom on the roof, you'd be sorely disappointed. Cobwebs, a large trunk, old tricycles, rusted cribs overloaded with junk. A<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"> huge pile of Lakshmi-Ganesh dumped unceremoniously on diwali, year after year.<br />Smiling, crumbling, blessing.<br /><br />It was here that she took shelter. Shelter from the constant humming of the flies, the roar of the mixer grinder, her aunt's ear splitting burps, farts and snores. Her mother gossiping away with the neighbours, dragging skeletons back to life.<br /><br />It was here that she had met her grandmother. Buried deep below the moth bitten sarees and boxes of glass bangles. In stacks of neatly lined, single ruled notebooks.<br /><br />It was here that she discovered her grandfather, with his monstrous moustache and ivory spittoon. Her mother, cunning little notorious village brat ( not surprising ). The kitchen filled to bursting with activity and the cows that mooed to the chorus.<br /><br />They talked for hours. They discussed village politics, period pains, demanding husbands, scheming neighbours, home brewed medicines and joint aches. They rode hand-in-hand through the village bazaar. They lay on the roof and chalked out the 'saptrishi'.<br /><br />In that tiny little storeroom, they broke every barrier that existed. And talked.<br /><br />- Akshay</span></div>
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Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-29258619637586318352017-05-03T08:44:00.001-07:002017-05-03T08:44:10.438-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">She wondered how many other women celebrated their rape anniversary.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Fancy water sprinkled flowers, greeting cards, copy-pasted facebook replies and overseas skype calls with the rapist.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">The night was as vivid as ever. Smudged mascara, cheeks taut with makeup, hennaed hands, millions of pins holding together an ensemble of fakeness. Fake jewellery, fake designer lehanga and above all, fake smile</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">s throughout the night.<br /><br />Mr. MNC from NYC was a myth. A blur of blurred HIs over LED screens and a balding hairline seen through the haze of that one coffee meet.<br />He appeared equally drained. The sweat glistening on his bulging cheeks. His breath heavy with the effort of tucking that tummy in the sherwani.<br /><br />A touch, a grasp, an amateur forced kiss. Before she knew, his hands were everywhere. Unpinning, unwrapping, untwining.<br />Undoing. Undoing it all.<br /><br />The moves were sloppy, his breath reeking of Old Monk and chicken tikka. He was soft and gentle. That was all she could say. Unmindful of her frigidity and weak tired whimpers.<br />Before she knew, it was all over. Forever.<br /><br />He called now and then. And visited when he could. She lay with him. Pretended. Acted. Sighed. Endured.<br /><br />She wondered how many other women celebrated their rape anniversary.<br /><br />- Akshay</span></div>
Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-31435751575708447292017-05-03T08:43:00.005-07:002017-05-03T08:43:49.195-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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At 6PM, there was nothing beautiful about the red light area.<br /><br />The very stench that hung in the air. Overflowing gutters, urine soaked walls, clothes dangling over the balconies, discarded jasmines, cheap air fresheners, sweat, and desperation.<br /><br />Flimsy sarees, low cleavages, sequinned blouses, petticoats and nighties. Paan stained grins, hitched up lungis, scrawny kids, Runa Laila crooning over t<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">he radio, flickering street-lamps and boarded up windows.<br /><br />At 6PM, two little chappal clad feet ran out of the house. There had been no customers that day. Ammi had no reason to throw her out. Still, she ran.<br /><br />She ran past the lecherous men, dodging the eunuchs and the piles of dung instinctively. Her head towards the sky, her hair let loose, her grin wild. Waving and blowing kisses.<br /><br />The passengers in the flight above, had no idea how beautiful they were.<br /><br />- Akshay</span></div>
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Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-39427517116751482292017-05-03T08:43:00.003-07:002017-05-03T08:43:31.583-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">BE A DOBBY</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">In a world filled with discrimination, hatred, propagandas and bullying .. be a Dobby.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Be the smallest, most insignificant being. But wake up every day with determination in your heart. Suffer (until you can change the world), but do not let those sufferings break you.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />Step out of the law. Do not care about the government or rules. If it is to save those who matter to you. Even though you might have to burn your hands or beat yourself for it. Be a Dobby.<br /><br />Speak the truth. Even if you shiver with fright. Look them in the eye and tell them that they are cruel and wrong. Do not start a revolution or blindly follow whatever your entire species has been doing for ages.<br />Embrace who you are. And fight to get what you stand for. Even if the entire population tells you that you are not normal.<br />Fight until you get your sock. And wear it proudly. Be a Dobby.<br /><br />Find yourself an ideal. And dedicate your life to it. Be courageous enough to take a dagger in your heart for it.<br /><br />In a world where each one of us is struggling to 'belong'. In a world where it's comfortable to be a Winky or a Kreacher.... be a Dobby. </span></div>
Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-58132466520186229232017-05-03T08:43:00.001-07:002017-05-03T08:43:09.778-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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He danced, the destroyer Himself !<br />She, the destruction he bespoke of<br /><br />Grace, bliss, the very music in motion<br />Insanity, rage, the fire that won't be quenched<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"><br /><br />He moved to the rhythm of the cosmos<br />To the beats of his companions<br /><br />She danced to the wails that erupted<br />The screams echoing in the wilderness beyond<br /><br />He was the stone chiselled to life<br />She, the flames that erupted beneath<br /><br />He radiated infinity, agile and ageless<br />She reeked of death, slow and surpassing<br /><br />They danced to the very end<br />Or was it the same spoke of wheel<br />Turning over and over again?<br />Who could tell?<br /><br />- Akshay</span></div>
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Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-15244719856845706392017-05-03T08:42:00.005-07:002017-05-03T08:42:55.959-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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You have to be a misfit to LOVE Harry Potter.<br /><br />It's about a gangly abused teenager, his low self-esteem friend and a strong headed nerdy girl.<br />There is the bullied one (Neivelle ), the eccentric one (Luna), the outspoken one (Ginny), the soft hearted giant (Hagrid), the lonely brilliant gay man (Dumbledore), the ones shunned and feared by society (Sirrius and Lupin) and the odd-one-out (Dobby).<br /><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"><br />You have to be a misfit to fall head over heels for them.<br /><br />- Akshay</span></div>
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Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-40646813868170979122017-05-03T08:42:00.003-07:002017-05-03T08:42:37.333-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">NAKED</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">After ages, she stepped out naked. Her hair tousled, her arms tingly, her thighs gently rubbing against each other. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">For as long as she could remember, she hadn't been naked. She shut her eyes against the ruthless wind and let the sea foam wash over her. </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />She had been taught to cover her flabby arms in sleeves, her pendulous breasts heaving in bras, her Caesarian scar wrapped under layers of satin.<br /><br />No one. No one had told her how good it felt. To raise your unshaven arms, long dirty nails digging into messy hair, to part those legs and squat on the chair. Naked.<br /><br />To not suck in that belly. Not tuck it in. Not tighten it. Hide it. Let it all be there. Open to Mother Nature. Open to a million different eyes that won't care.<br />To let it go.<br /><br />After ages, she stepped out naked.<br /><br />- Akshay</span></div>
Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-11397648136743654542017-05-03T08:42:00.001-07:002017-05-03T08:42:18.042-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Hinduism is under threat. It is being damaged beyond repair.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Hinduism emerged from the worship of the Sun, the Wind, the Water and all that that surrounded men. It slowly opened it's arms to worship food, animals, statues, words, music and even disease.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It embraced bhakti movement, maintained it's orthodox traditions and humbly bowed before the tantric sects that flourished at the periphery.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />Time and again, Hinduism (like any other religion) has been twisted for power.<br />The Learned ones moulded it to create castes and create a niche for themselves.<br />The Rich joined hands with them to turn simple rituals into elaborate celebrations, making the devotee place the Gods and the kings on the same pedestal.<br /><br />Never has Hinduism taught violence. There are texts upon texts on the beauty of the diety, on ways of living life, codes of conduct and righteousness.<br />Even the most 'barbaric' of Tantra traditions teach the follower to inflict pain on oneself. It advocates self suffering to crush the ego and make oneself humble.<br /><br />The enemy is always Ego. The magnanimous ego of Ravana, the blind pride of Duryodhana, the narcissistic rage of Mahishasura.<br />Even the Gods follow their own codes of conduct and suffer when they wrong others.<br /><br />The kind of narrow minded (read, intolerant) image that is being projected in modern day India, is the greatest damage that could be inflicted on Hinduism.<br /><br />- Akshay.</span></div>
Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-60595387073388072192017-05-03T08:41:00.001-07:002017-05-03T08:41:50.096-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I'll sit by the window</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">And watch life pass by</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">The faithful old MTC bus</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Tottering along at it's own pace</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />Rickety, unhinged, precarious<br />As it jostles with humanity<br /><br />I'll watch them enter, I'll watch them leave<br />Swaying along the winding roads<br />Sweating, struggling, seething<br />Hanging on for their precious life<br /><br />I'll watch the rain lash and sun burn<br />I'll snuggle and put my head on the glass<br />Doze off when the terminal beckons<br />And start all over again.<br />Tomorrow.<br /><br />I'll sit by the window<br />And watch life pass by<br /><br />- Akshay</span></div>
Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-36935518172563657662017-05-03T08:40:00.000-07:002017-05-03T08:40:58.508-07:00'Babul mora naihar chooto jaye'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">The car smelled of papa. She rolled down the windows, pressed hard on the accelerator and popped a random cassette into the player. Of all the places, this wretched car smelled of papa.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">The home held no trace of him.His battered Rolex, his shirt flung over the sofa, his cassettes stacked next to the TV, his half-finished biscuits, the cup stains he'd leave all ove</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">r the house. Nothing.<br />Amma had wiped it clean. Not with her usual ocd vigor. With a vengeance.<br /><br />Here, in the rickety old Maruti, he lingered. In the ash under the seats, in the dusty compartment, in the scent of OldSpice that would not go away. In the jerky gear handle and wobbly seat, he lingered.<br /><br />She instinctively ran her hands through her hair. And held only cropped rough stumps. She had chopped off her tresses when they wouldn't let her burn his pyre. Nothing. Next came the tattoos, the nose ring, the kohl lines eyes, the cuts on the wrists and the emaciation.<br /><br />She kept driving. Blew a puff and stared dreamily at the deserted stretch of road that lay ahead.<br /><br />Over the stereo, Begum Akhtar crooned,<br />'Babul mora naihar chooto jaaye....'<br />( Father, I am leaving my home behind)<br /><br />- Akshay</span></div>
Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-14402661515684900272017-05-03T08:38:00.001-07:002017-05-03T08:38:17.176-07:00'Balmwa, tum kya jaano preet' <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br /><br />No one had told her that breakups were this bad. From best friends to magzines, each stipulated a certain period. Each prescribed certain rituals, gave the same advices over and over again.<br /><br />But nothing prepared you for this. For the sheer terror of getting out of bed. The feeling of dread that sunk in when you opened your eyes. And felt thoughts rushing in. Every <span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">sms that beeped, every object he had left behind, every friend who faked sympathy, every nook and corner, every day that went past.<br /><br />The curling of the toes, the stiffening of the arms, squeezing the eyes close in the hope of exorcising it all. The blanket that seemed to shut everything out. The pillow that would bear the fury of it all.<br /><br />The house was chaotic. Scattered clothes, fallen hair, half-smoked stubs, the stench and the stifling.<br /><br />She chose to get up. Shivered as the toes brushed against the floor. The cold of the wintery morning seemed to have settled in. Nature had a sense of humour.<br />She looked around with slits for eyes. Her hair undone. Her gait unsteady. Her hands grasping forgotten territories.<br /><br />The handle of the cupboard seemed frozen. She jerked it open, almost stumbling upon the chair nearby.The nauseating smell of naphthalene balls and cloistered life.<br /><br />She groped around in a frenzy. This darkness she wasn't used to.<br />Her hands finally grasped the wooden handle. The strings twanged a bit. It seemed a mockery almost. Nature, life and love .. Were all in harmony.<br /><br />The weight of the tanpura was enough to make her sway on the spot. She sat down. Her back frigid. Her head throbbing. The strings cutting lashes into her frozen fingers. Her throat rebelled. Raspy, dry and wanting.<br /><br />After what seemed like an eternity, she managed to hum. An old thumri. A new context. Or maybe the context was old too.<br />'Balamwa, tum kya jaano preet..'<br />( Beloved, what do you know of love? )<br /><br />A ray of watery sunlight seeped in through the window behind her. Through the mustiness.<br /><br />-Akshay</span></div>
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Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-50753781352159734312016-10-29T01:15:00.001-07:002016-10-29T01:15:13.397-07:00Hinduism<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Hinduism is very simple.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">None of the Gods are perfect. None of the 'asuras' are evil. Each one is flawed.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">There is Dharma. And Dharma needs to be followed. If you do not follow Dharma, you perish. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />Ravana, the greatest of all sages, pays the price for abducting and desiring Sita. Rama prays the price for doubting her chastity and abandoning her.<br /><br />Kauravas fall because of their greed. For desiring what was not theirs rightfully. Panadavas fall for they too stray away from Dharma, in the heat of the battle.<br />Even the puppeteer Sri Krishna suffers at the hands of Gandhari, for her faith in her dharma was unshaken.<br /><br />Siva falls prey to lust and attachments ( neglecting the dharma of being a yogi). Mahakali succumbs to anger and destroys all She holds dear.<br /><br />Take the storiy of any asura in Hindu mythology. It follows a common theme of a great man who performs severe austerities to get what he wants. Its only that that the he demands what is not his.<br /><br />Simple as it may seem, this forms the crux of Hinduism.<br />In current times, when religion has become synonymous with hatred, caste and politics .. this needs to be understood even more.<br /><br />- Akshay</span></div>
Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-31430795654360661652016-10-29T01:14:00.005-07:002016-10-29T01:14:47.426-07:00sex<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Let's have sex tonight. We'll leave the flickering bulb on. Let the light seep into the crevices of your wrinkles. Highlight the stray gray hair. Play havoc on your chapped lips.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">You can slip inside my skin. Snuggle. Your ribs against mine. </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />Touch me. Not rub, not probe, not scratch, not grope. Touch me. Feel the thumping that is my madness.<br /><br />Let loose my sanity. Tear off the robes of civility. The threadbare strips of morality.<br />Throttle me. Let my sins dance their macabre dance before my eyes.<br />Hold me down. Reign in my monsters. Let them gasp as you assault them.<br /><br />Move in rhythm with the drums inside my head. Make love to the incessant shrieking. Bite down hard enough to make the scars disappear. Again. Over and over again. Until we are spent.<br />Or worse, quiet.<br /><br />Let's have sex tonight.<br /><br />- Akshay</span></div>
Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-27896040171595148482016-10-29T01:14:00.003-07:002016-10-29T01:14:27.258-07:00The Art Of Eating Alone.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Of all the skills one must acquire over the years, the art of eating alone is an absolute necessity.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">A book or magazine I would suggest. Although, one must avoid the phone. The ever devious phone ( with its tentacles embedded in every sphere of life) hardly leaves one 'alone'. One must first settle down comfortably. In a seat one likes. Not hide in a dimly lit cove, whic</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">h would suggest that one is ashamed of eating alone. Except those wonderful wonderful introverted souls. What blessing it is indeed!<br /><br />Then one may open a book, flip through a magazine or write. One may gaze into the surroundings ( short of looking desperate and creepy) too.<br />Concentrate on the food. Chew it, churn it, cherish it.<br />Fiddle with a pair of earphones and plug them in. Let music do the rest.<br />Your tongue will taste, your ears will hear, your eyes shall feast. And all will be in harmony.<br /><br />You might also chance upon the fact that one is forever alone. And what a delighful pleasure that would be.<br />Almost an icing on the cake. Unless, you have a cake on the menu. I'd always suggest the latter.<br /><br />Cakes taste best when tasted alone.<br /><br />-Akshay</span></div>
Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-46624855905374040942016-10-29T01:14:00.001-07:002016-10-29T01:14:06.639-07:00You can't<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">You Can't </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">You can't get over depression. It won't let you.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Depression is the 4AM restlessness, the twists and turns. The tossing of the pillow. The whirring of the fan. The cupping of the eyes. The buzzing of the headache.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />It's the nauseating feeling early in the morning. The headache when you pour water, the dreariness on the face in the mirror. The slowness of the fingers buttoning the shirt. And the heaviness of footsteps out of the door.<br /><br />It's the thought lurking at the back of the mind. The stray comment that stings. The scenes that keep repeating. The work that piles up. The food that tastes like sand. The lonely corner that feels like home.<br /><br />Its the dread of going home. The hollow room, the lumpy bed, the sight of clothes scattered, the tears you know are coming.<br /><br />Its the eagerness for the sun to set. When darkness creeps in, mates with you and makes the thumping stop. The staring doesn't appears aimless. The phone can be switched off. Work can be slid to a far corner. And the cycle can be started off afresh next morning.<br /><br />You can't get over depression. It won't let you.<br /><br />- Akshay</span></div>
Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-82419269750816832032016-10-29T01:13:00.003-07:002016-10-29T01:13:45.053-07:00gali ke muhane<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">गली के मुहाने पर </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">एक बल्ब लटका करता था </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">पिद्दी था, प्यादा था </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">जंग लड़ने पर आमादा था </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />धागे से तार पर<br />झूलता था मदमस्त<br />झिलमिलाता था, भुनभुनाता था<br />रात भर गश्त लगाता था<br /><br />तस्कर था रोशनी का<br />सुराख की सुरंग से आर पार करता था<br />रसिक था परछाईयो का<br />कठपुतलियां बना व्यापार करता था<br /><br />महफ़िल जमाता था झींगुरो संग<br />रूठता तो लुप्प हो जाता था<br />कभी यूँ ही खिलखिला उठता भोर सवेरे<br />कभी घुप्प अँधेरे में चुप हो जाता था<br /><br />गली के मुहाने पर<br />एक बल्ब लटका करता था<br /><br />- अक्षय</span></div>
Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-13950921726268729572016-10-29T01:13:00.001-07:002016-10-29T01:13:24.087-07:00On a night<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">On a night like this</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We cuddled</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Eons ago</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Or maybe it was yesterday</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Hands entwined </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />Shirts crumpled<br />Palms sweaty<br />Breathing rugged<br />It smelled of Old Spice<br />And Listerine<br />Horns beeped faraway<br />The bulb flickered<br />You snored<br />Blissfully oblivious<br />There was no movement<br />No adjusting<br />No fidgeting<br />We fell in place<br />Like the world around us<br /><br />On a night like this<br />We cuddled<br /><br />- Akshay</span></div>
Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-74843897709548113572016-06-17T03:53:00.002-07:002016-06-17T03:53:29.457-07:00Two of them<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Two Of Them</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">In the end, there were only two of them. The Blue Hued Lover and the Dark Gaunt Mother.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Mad, mischievous, mundane masqueraders.</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br />The One who lured them with love. Seduced them with smiles and then made them whirl to his flute.<br />And the One who danced Herself to the sound of her ghouls screaming. Who fed upon the Despair of those at Her feet.<br /><br />The two who turned men into monsters. Who roused such passion and devotion .. That anything short of insanity felt trivial.<br />The ones who turned away and had to be coaxed. Had to be fed, to be reassured.<br /><br />The ones who demanded love and bred poetry. And were satisfied with neither.<br /><br />In the end, there were only two of them. The Blue Hued Lover and The Dark Gaunt Mother.</span><br />
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Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-90547762907643187342016-06-17T03:52:00.003-07:002016-06-17T03:52:39.754-07:00blue<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Why, mother? Why is the sky blue?<br />
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He is a lousy writer, child. He spills his ink pot almost every time.<br />
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- Akshay<br />
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Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-46222897592576331302016-06-17T03:51:00.002-07:002016-06-17T03:51:45.867-07:00mornings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">MORNINGS.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">In a way, those first mornings were special. The Way you woke up to the alarm. Unfazed, excited, non-grumpy.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">The struggle to find the specs. Unfamiliar surfaces. Untouched corners. Cardboard boxes strewn about. Life, messy and comfortable.</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><br /><br />The first splash of water in the basin. The first aroma of tea gurgling and boiling. The first newspaper. The first gush of wind through the windows thrown open.<br /><br />The cacophony of neighbors, the echoes of past. The buzz of the television next door. The tinkling of nostalgia in musty nooks.<br /><br />The knob that wouldn't turn. The lock that took ages to click. The switch that refuses to budge. The bell that chimes way longer than necessary.<br />The first guest. The last occupant.<br /><br />In a way, those first mornings were special.<br />- Akshay</span></div>
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Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-80453901594973490832016-06-17T03:50:00.003-07:002016-06-17T03:50:58.613-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">The God Of The Schizophrenic </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Let's say that you are a schizophrenic in ancient India. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Not the raving kinds. A milder variety. With pleasant auditory hallucinations. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">You hear a voice telling you things. You hear it. In time, you start conversing with it. </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><br /><br />You have no idea as to who owns the voice. You attribute it to a higher source. Since the voice knows all about you, you assume that it knows the Truth.<br /><br />You see visions. Of the entire world in the mouth of children. Of thousand headed Gods and<br />monsters who sprout from their own shed blood.<br /><br />You pen it down. Discuss it with people around you. Unfortunately, they haven't heard of schizophrenia either. Your shared psychosis spreads.<br /><br />Over the years, there are others like you. Who put their conversations to paper. Since most hallucinations of schizophrenia are similar, the similar content consolidates the belief.<br /><br />Learned rishis ponder over it.<br />Since their view of science is trough the looking glass of religion, they meditate upon it and draw conclusions.<br /><br />Your hallucinations are now part of a thick book. Accepted. Revered. Carried forward.<br /><br />The God of the Schizophrenics is now God.<br /><br />- Akshay</span></div>
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Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-53579536857290499582016-06-17T03:50:00.000-07:002016-06-17T03:50:09.226-07:00Barbed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; outline: none; width: auto;" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption" style="font-family: inherit;">He looked beyond the barbed wires. There was beauty.<br /><br />He drank it all in. His fingers stiff against the metal.<br /><br />- Akshay</span></span><br />
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Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630853167809060163.post-89041031517894879962016-06-17T03:49:00.000-07:002016-06-17T03:49:20.978-07:00high tide<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Waiting for the high tide. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Aren't we all?</span><br />
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Forked Tonguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09270739333461437413noreply@blogger.com0