I'm not going to launch into the long and complicated history this blog and I have shared, nor will I sit down and make a list of why I love it so. All that is self-explanatory. For the last year or so, the blog has been more or less dormant but I have been posting fairly regularly again and I intend on continuing this practice (yes, even if it means replying on excessively nonsensical tags to keep it going).
Four years ago, launching this blog was my first attempt at finding readers who were not my poor classmates bullied into reading and appreciating my (then, and possibly still, crappy) poetry. Now, four years later - and indeed it is so appropriate that this happens on the exact same day as ol' Kreation's birthday - my first ever published work is out.
Agreed, it is not entirely mine; the anthology Seven Deadly Sins includes short stories by a bunch of talented writers. This endeavour began as a contest by Serene Woods Publication judged by Mithun Mukherjee of De-Scribe - author of Cold Feet and Revenge. The winning entries were compiled into a book and Seven Deadly Sins was born. the book will officially be launched by Guracharan Das of India Unbound fame.
You're all welcome to the launch!
|Note: A slight change in schedule... the event starts at 4:30 pm.|
So, it shook -
Heavens in the morning
Earth at night.
Bloody possessions, torn limbs
Spattered intestines and mangled bones
Of the morn’s proletariats
To flustered, frightened flocks of
In this happening city.
Black-robed made way for the dead
The dead for the grieving
The grieving for
Victims one minute,
‘Mild’ and ‘slight’
Were the adjectives used
With their mugshot—likenesses
Plastered over the screens.
Nothing to worry about, you see
11 dead, 74 injured
It was the exceptional one per cent.
4.2 on the Richter is nothing.
Mere twelve hours
And the city shook
Mere twelve hours.
Death whisked past us
It chose, instead –
Others, with more to lose perhaps
Both times we turned
To Twitter and Facebook
To maintain our sanity.
|Duly cropped and not-photoshopped, we present to you - Kiki!|
Now to Day 5!
Day 5 - A photo of yourself two years ago.
This was easy. all I had to do was go through my facebook profile picture until I found one from two years ago. And here it is -
This was officially the best hairstyle I've ever had, in my entire life!
Ah! Fond memories.
That's it. I'm done for today. See you tomorrow, peeps. (Ha! Who am I kidding. Nobody visits the blog anymore.)
Erm, well, umm....
This morning I woke up with all intentions of clicking a photo of my scrumptious breakfast. Hot pakoras and tea. But by the time I actually sat down to eat, I was ravenous and all thoughts of the blog and photograph had conveniently made space for this one: "FOOOOOOODDDDDDDDD"
When I was done I remembered the photograph and promised myself to click one at lunch. Long story short, there was no lunch. Why? Didn't I say the breakfast was pakoras? :D
After some heavy reading (no kidding, that book must weigh atleast a good kg... perhaps more), a heavenly siesta and a trip to the tailor's, I was all excited for the dinner and committed to the task of getting a photograph for sure this time.
I forgot. :-|
When it is kadhi-chawal (especially when it is chawal... it being a rare luxury in your life (some allergy, don't ask)), you are entitled this slight dereliction of duty, no? Again, by the time I was done, it was the breakfast story all over again. There was a nagging blogpost but no food. But since I HAD to put a picture of something I had today, here's one:
|Drinking even as I type. Cheers!|
|If you're wondering why those glasses are so-friggin-huge (and you should!), it's because they are 3D glasses. I nicked them off when I went to watch, umm, some movie... my memory fails me.|
The rules go like this:
Day 1 – A photo of yourself and a description of how your day was.
Day 2 – A photo of something you ate today.
Day 3 – Your idea of the perfect first date.
Day 4 – Your favorite photograph of your best friend.
Day 5 – A photo of yourself two years ago.
Day 6 – A photo of an animal you’d love to keep as a pet.
Day 7 – Your dream wedding.
Day 8 – A song to match your mood.
Day 9 – A photo of the item you last purchased.
Day 10 – A photo of your favourite place to eat.
Day 11 – What’s in your makeup bag.
Day 12 – A photograph of the town you live in.
Day 13 – Your favorite musician and why?
Day 14 – A TV show you’re currently addicted to.
Day 15 – Something you don’t leave the house without.
Day 16 – Your celebrity crush.
Day 17 – A photo of you and your family.
Day 18 – Something you crave a lot.
Day 19 – Another picture of yourself.
Day 20 – The meaning behind your blog name.
Day 21 – A photo of something that makes you happy.
Day 22 – A letter to someone who has hurt you recently.
Day 23 – 15 facts about you.
Day 24 – A photo of something that means a lot to you.
Day 25 – What’s in your purse?
Day 26 – A photo of somewhere you’ve been to.
Day 27 – A picture of you last year and now and how you changed since then?
Day 28 – Your favorite movie.
Day 29 – Something you could never get tired of doing.
Day 30 – A photograph of yourself today + three good things that have happened in the past 30 days
Oh, and I'll begin tomorrow, or day after. Certain photos that the tag expects me to put up might instead find their way over at Chaos. Since Chaos is a private blog, this part should be self-explanatory.
Quite strange it is
For that which makes us
top of the food chain
one of its kind
king of the world
is also what takes
from us the very ability
to be what we can be
that thoughts are what make us
and those thoughts then break us
into tiny pieces of fragmented glass
shedding blood of those we once loved
even as they walk away
leaving crimson footprints
on our hearts.
Author's note: Written in response to Aniket's post, this poem will (naturally) make more sense if you read his as well.
A pool of red at my feet,
My hand boasts of 23 cuts,
(some of them need stitches mind you),
No easy feat!
But hatred that wells within me,
A loathing so deep embedded,
It will echo in your heart and soul,
Long after I am dead.
You won't feel guilty,
You filthy f**kin' bastard
May you rot in hell,
And if alive, be cursed!
You know not what you did to me,
Why the hell would you care?
After all, you got it... didn't you?
You've had your 'share'!
Mark my words,
For they will bloom,
Justice shall be done,
And your entire kind is doomed!
P.S.: Because a repost is exactly what was required.
Note: Written a few months back for one of the Serene Woods' Writers' Meets, this piece was lost in the deluge of unfinished, unpublished drafts in my computer and I only discovered it today. Although I'd leave the interpretation of this to my readers (as I do with all my works), I have but one thing to say. Read it not once, but twice. For there is more to it than meets the eye.
'I stay in your mind, 'pon your thoughts I pray'
Consciousness, consciousness, why don't you die?
'Because if I die, then your thoughts shall fly'
Consciousness, consciousness, let them be free.
'Oh, no no no, that's impossible, you see'
Consciousness, consciousness, leave me alone
'Why of course, for a minute, here- get stoned'
Consciousness, consciousness, you're nothing but a sham.
'Muahaha! Write that in your Paper 7 exam.'**
*My exams begin from tomorrow, so something of this sort was anticipated.
** Paper 7 includes Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway. Nuff said.