World Peace

Its 0000. The room is very quiet. You can hear the clock on my wrist tick. Every second passing with every word i read. I am sleep deprived and the book is my saviour. It has caught my attention and it is now impossible to let go. I learn about the cold war, i learn about the spies used. I learn the brutal methods which the Soviets use to torture the traitors. Spine chilling. A bullet in the head is what they beg for. One bullet, just one bullet. 

He wakes up early morning at his usual time and puts on his sport gear and gets ready for his morning run. A middle aged man, in his 26th year as a CIA operative, still runs his assets and hasnt mentioned them in the 301 files, the reason for his assets to be alive. He still had not lost his pace, running five miles in forty minutes, better than any cadet at 'the Farm'. 

He entered his building suspicious, his 26 year old career had taught him to be. The shrinks had given up on him. His last hope had turned their backs away. He started to climb the stairs to his appartment with sheer suspision. He  opened the door only to find his partner in the kitchen. The only one he ever slept with in his 48 year old life.

To be Continued....

COLD WAR

It is 1991, the soviet union is divided with USA winning the 40 year old cold war with Jason Monk putting a bullet through Colonel Grishin's head.

The Cuban Missile Crisis almost brought the World to the brink of World War III. The Russians had missiles all over Cuba. USA was under potential threat from the Soviets. The Bay of Pigs fiasco made JFK look like a clown.JFK had no option but promise the Soviets to remove their missiles from Korea, which were a threat to the Soviets.

The Cold War had many spies who worked for either Governments. Agents and Double Agents. They were paid in millions to spy against their motherland. Some did it for money, the Americans, some did it because they did not believe in what the Russians were doing.

The Mafia were the moneylenders to the Government of Russia. KGB and the mafia worked in close proximity of each other. After 1991, they were against the Russian Jews and Chechens.

Lee Harvey Oswald, who assassinated JFK had roots to KGB(not proved though). It is said that Lee Harvey Oswald was a communist and was also involved with the CIA, FBI. 2010 will be the year when the assassination videos of JFK will be released from the Archives. It will then become clear who was actually behind the assissanation. By that time it will be too late.

Igor Komorov, the future President of Russia wrote a Black Manifesto which was stolen by a man with three metal front teeth was brutally beaten by the UPF, which resulted into his death. All those who read this dreaded document have been killed. It is now up to Jason Monk to bring Kormorov's exploits to a halt.

PS: This is a blend of fact and fiction.

The Appeal

The latest by the Author who has 19 Best-sellers under his belt is not so impressive. The tag line 'Every verdict comes with a price' is good enough for a Grisham fan to pick up the book. It opens very strongly with a very strong plot. Remember the movie 'Erin Brockovich', one part of the book is based on the class action shown in the movie.

The book is divided into three parts which go into detail and are loosely linked with each other. Sticking to the plot is something which is not found in The Appeal. The author has gone into detail with all the three parts, of which the best being 'The verdict'.

What the author is trying to potray through this book is 'how easy it is to get elected as a judge of a supreme court of a state and reverse the verdict '. Here is where he has made the mistake of deviating from the plot.

He could have stuck to the plot without going into too much detail of The Campaign.

The ending is absolutely medicore. Chetan Bhagat's 3 mistakes... ending was better.

It is a one time read for a die hard Grisham fan but not worth putting it in your book-shelf

A Junky's Story

Heroin is a sensory deprivation tank for the soul. Floating on the Dead Sea if the drug stone, there's no sense of pain, no regret or shame, no feeling of guilt or grief, no depression, and no desire. The sleeping universe enters and envelops every atom of existence. Insensible stillness and peace disperse fear and suffering. thoughts drift like ocean weeds and vanish in the distant, grey somnolency, unperceived and indeterminable. The body succumbs to cryogenic slumber: the listless heart beats
faintly, and breathing slowly fades to random whispers. Thick nirvanic numbness clogs the limbs, and downward, deeper the sleeper slides and glides toward oblivion, the perfect and eternal stone.

That chemical absolution is paid for, like everything else in the universe, with light. The first light that junkies lose is the light in their eyes. A junkie's eyes are as lightless as the eyes of Greek statues, as lightless as hammered lead, as lightless as a bullet hole in a dead man's back. The next light lost is the light of desire. Junkies kill desire with the same weapon they use on hope and dream and honour: the club made from their craving. And when all the other lights of life are gone, the last light lost is the light of love. Sooner or later, when its's down to the last hit, the junkie will give up the woman he loves, rather than go without sooner or later, every junkie becomes a devil in exile.

- Gregory David Roberts, Shantaram

Is It So Difficult To REMEMBER??

The man behind 'Rath Yatra' has done it again. I still wonder how he got his facts wrong. Yes Yes, i am talking of our very own ex- Deputy Prime Minister, Mr. L.K. Advani. Mr. Advani in his autobiography 'My Country My Life' hanged the three very famous revolutionaries(Bhagat Singh, Sukhdev and Rajguru) for bombing the Delhi Assembly in 1929, where as the records and a professor of JNU (whose name i don't remember), say that they were hung with regard to the Lahore Conspiracy Case.

Bhagat Singh's nephew surely didn't like the patriotism displayed by Mr. Advani who calls India 'My Country My Life'

How could a man of 80 years of age who practically saw Bhagat Singh, Sukhdev and Rajguru in his teenage years fight for the independence of India. People like him should not even pen such books where they cant even remember how India got Independence, and who all sacrificed their lives for their country.

As they say,

HISTORY NEVER REPEATS ITSELF

THINGS

Ever thought of living a life or a part of it without THINGS? Come to think of it, its going to be tough and exciting. Things like cell phones, sunglasses, cars, motorcycles, watch and money. What are we going to extract out of these things, i fail to understand. One cant really define or find himself or herself with these materialistic things.

On the other hand, you need a cell phone to talk to your girlfriend. You need money to booze and fag, and if u have the money, you sure can afford a pair of nice ray-ban. So one really needs money, a cell phone etc etc.

Take a week long vacation INTO THE WILD and you will understand that these materialistic things are a farce. All you need is a tent, matchsticks, a knife, and a gun(You should know how to shoot!!) . You can live. Its an amazing experience, away from the SOCIETY, and its not the END OF THE ROAD, and its GUARANTEED that you will RISE for good.

There comes a time in your life that you really need to discover yourself, one way of doing the same is by going away for a while. Away from people and away from THINGS. Our life is so dependent on these things that they end up owning us. Our personality and our character is molded according to these THINGS.

But if you come to think of it, these THINGS, at the end of the day are now an important part of your life, i wish i was born in the early 18th century and lived in a village.

UNCLASSIFIED RAMBLING

The winter Monday mornings are the toughest. Waking up is like sleeping in between THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION. But once you are out of the house walking on the pavement looking at the people around you, you realize how warm you are. And your life IS 'THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION'(the best movie ever).

The Rickshaw waalas sitting by the morning fire which is about to doze out. Their children still clinging to their mothers arms. 'LIFE IS(not) BEAUTIFUL' for them.

The guards standing their last minutes by the fire waiting for their replacements and a cosy sleep, 'corporate executives' getting late for earning money, jumping traffic lights end up bribing the thullas cause they are getting late.

(It is difficult to channelize the thought over here)

Life is a struggle in every way. Have we ever questioned why are we going through such torture. If you ask this question to my friends, you will get only one answer. 'I wanna EARN the big bucks. Why? No one knows. Then the question comes.

What will you do with so much of money if you dont have the time to enjoy it?

The answer: I don't know. I just wanna earn the BIG BUCKS.

(where the fuck am i going with all this bullshit)

Ever tried to define politics? I have. Lets just try again.

A hypocrites breeding ground who is ready to sell his soul to meet the end.

Somehow, every politicians' name i have known(barring a few) have come in the limelight for the wrong reasons. And you know what. We are the ones who have selected them. Not even 1% of my class has a voters ID.

There are so many imperfections, so many of em.

Recently i wrote an application to my college Dean for the publication of a LITERARY SOCIETY.
It took me three weeks to come to know that nothing is going to happen. Why? I probably think the answer is: 'Whats the point of a literary society'?

Why i call this as internal politics?

Maybe the teachers (some of them) had vested interests in the Society. (IF I AM NOT A PART OF IT, I SURE AINT LETTING HIM BE ONE).

I ask myself, What are they going to achieve at 45 years of age by doing this?
I get an answer,They have nothing better to do.

Then i remember THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION.

'Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things and no good thing ever dies'

REMEMBERENCE

When was the last time i had gone out to smell the evening dew on the grass. I don't remember.
When was the last time i had lied down on the wet grass and not worry about getting my clothes wet. I still don't remember. Its been ages since I had thought about the nature and its plan for me. Boots and woolen socks, hands in the jeans pocket, snow flakes on the shoulder and a walk into eternity. Its been six years since i have done that. Its been six years since i have walked alone and thought about ME.

I miss the chilly breeze on my face which made my nose turn blue and red. I miss the whispers in my air which were like music to me. I miss those long walks in the snow which made me want to build a home.

The huge snow capped mountains and fighters flying between them, the moon shining on me showing me the way to my home, the dark chilly nights after a game of billiards, the quiet long deserted roads, my broken bicycle, sleeping pansy's and gladulas, again the wet grass and the bonfire.

Don't i miss the nature, don't i miss the thought of walking in the pine forest, how i miss sitting by the quiet stream under a moonlit night. It was my home.

I just wanna be back home.

Talking Guitar!!

Well if you are an 70's rock fan, then i am pretty sure that you are aware of a homo sapien called Peter Frampton. I wouldnt want to talk a lot about his music. But all i can suggest is"you are damned if u listen to him and you are damned if u havent".

'Do you feel like we do' is what i am talking about. His Guitar talks...

Who Are You?

I dont know who i am. Am i a body, am i an emotion, it is still a mystery. When i stand in front of the mirror and put lather on my face, i question to myself, Who are these eyes looking at. I dont understand myself, i am trying to know myself.

English

What did the Frenchman say when he was accused of raping a dead woman?

I didnt realise that she was dead, I thought that she was English.

P.S: The English are out of my list.

Lot To Say

The elections, the bhajji incident, bhutto assassination, Mulayam-Mayavati and finally hyderabad.
Well i am pretty sure that there are quiet a lot of bumbs sitting out there to say a lot about everything i've wanted to say. But, beyond question, no one will be able to talk about Hyderabad better than me. From the much hyped hyderabadi biryani(dont blame me!!) to the lovely chicken cheeze burgers, it is a city to fall in love with. Unlike Delhi, this is a slow paced city with the night life jsut about non existant(wish i was in secunderabad). But one thing which you will never forget is its speciality in making kebabs and korma. The weather is jsut about awesome, you dont need the bloomers and you dont need the fan. what u do need is your girlfriend.

Racism II

A friend of mine in her blog wrote 'White australians alleging that a brown surd is hurling racial slurs on them on their land!' I am pretty sure that the surd must have said 'mainnukey' and the lot must have heard 'monkey'!! They are some bumbs.