I'm just like the sun. Bright, alive, energetic. People cant live without
me. They love baskin in my rays, when they're cold. People are
thankful to have me around. Like the sun, they make me also feel
important. Still nobody dares to see me right in the eye, to know how
i feel. If they do, they do it when im low and abt to set. They smile,
when im goin down, away for some time. They forget me. And at the time
of sunrise, when i recollect, when i come back with all my thoughts
gathered, when i pick myself up from the ocean of tears, i spread my
arms yet again, lookin at people, dictating, im there. And will be
there, forever. I'm just like the sun.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Whats the point
Whats the point
of bein romantic
Where to pinpoint
when you dont want it
Why are you so cold
when you lit the fire
The flames gone old
or you've burned your desire
When forgotten kisses
Are no surprise
No one blushes
with tears in eyes
Do the heartbroken
feel it all wrong
The arms wide open
dont look good open for long
of bein romantic
Where to pinpoint
when you dont want it
Why are you so cold
when you lit the fire
The flames gone old
or you've burned your desire
When forgotten kisses
Are no surprise
No one blushes
with tears in eyes
Do the heartbroken
feel it all wrong
The arms wide open
dont look good open for long
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Metal
It all starts with Barbie Dolls for girls and Hot Wheels for boys. But for me it all started with a television show called, 'Street Hawk'. Watching the black Honda XL500 pushing limits on just one wheel in the streets of Los Angeles is how I grew up. I was beginning to feel the hyper thrust of that man and that machine, keeping me glued to the television with jaws opened wide. Do not try this at home? Well I tried it outside my home on my BSA Champ, my first two wheel ride. After many failed attempts to pull off riding the bicycle on one wheel, it still made me content that I have a ride. I remember exploring places, roads, streets on the bike I loved and cherished. And the small jumps on and off the sidewalks and making the 'S' shaped black skid marks on the road. Every fall, every bruised knee, every race with friends, every trip to the mechanic to inflate the tires. Everything. I guess I didn’t even know, but I was starting to get inseparable to my bike.
Time went by and the manpower turned into horsepowers during college. When my father bought me a basic, fuel saving, commuting motorbike to commute to the college. The whole "cool wind in my hair" part started to start making sense. The silver ride I had was the only thing that became an identity by itself. While I was learning how to save fuel by getting the maximum mileage, I met people who taught me how to ride the ride like a true biker. How to manage taking the steepest turn without slipping. How to shift gears using your toes and not heels. How to stop and control your bike without actually braking. How to ride on one wheel. How to ride and manage falling, if any, at an occurrence. How to ride and stop on one wheel. How to perform stunts to catch eyes. How to do a burnout. Like staying idle but managing to have the rear wheel turning on full throttle. How to enjoy the smell of the burning rubber. The idea behind all this was to understand the riding, obviously after we graduate, understanding the ride.
I'll admit that I was a wannabe and would still consider myself, a good one, when I see actual bike riders performing stunts, racing, with their girlfriends cheering. Well I always considered and believed that all bikers can be stunters. But all stunters can’t be bikers. I still remember while sitting behind in a Maruti, while my buddy driving us to Chandigarh, I heard the loud thump of two Royal Enfield bullets, passing by us. On closer focusing I see two firangs in black leather vests and blue jeans's, laying back on the luggage nicely tied on the rear seat as a back rest. Eyes widened and jaw dropped, I could just wave at them. They acknowledged by a slight nod and a thumbs up sign, and thumped away. This is the actual biking, is what I thought. And I pledged I’ll buy a Royal Enfield. There's something about this bike that makes head turn. No matter how freaking powerful bike you own, you just can’t ignore when one Royal Enfield passes by. How can I forget, the day I managed to ride one, that belonged to a friend of mine from college. Since that day, I used to beg him to let me ride his ride. It was official that I rode his bike more than him, when we both used to go out someplace. Some days later I got to know that my own roommate's father bought him a Royal Enfield. Well, I begged him too. I found another friend who bought an old, non working, rusted, second hand, Royal Enfield from his brother in law, to satisfy his passion, who took 6 months to pimp it up and make the sexiest Bullet in Pune, that time. Now I had my 3 best buddies, riding the thumpers while I’m sitting pillion with them trying to count the thumps.
Two years later, while I was working for a corporate organization, I figured, that I was in a position to save some money, and either invest or finance my hobbies. Luck favored me and God blessed me, that I could gift myself a brand new Royal Enfield, Machismo 500, on my own birthday. Now this time, it was my mom and dad who had their jaws dropped and eyes wide open. Buying a bike costing over a lakh, at that time, was like getting married to someone, against my parent's wishes. Except my two friends, nobody understood, or I guess still understands, my eloped affair with my bullet. I don’t think anyone will understand how I felt that day. The day, when I wasn’t counting but, dictating the thumps. The day, when the sound of a bullet didn’t turn my head, but everyone else's. The day when I realized, I can be mean to any two wheeler on the road. The day, when I understood why this bike's made like a gun, to obviously shoot like a bullet. Ridden it on highways, streets, helipads, Bombay’s floods, summers, winters, days, nights. But with the decency of sleeping with my hands stuck in the spokes of the wheel, keeping my pants on. 16 months now. And 16,000 clocked.
Today, I ride to work and work to ride and when I die, may I be surrounded with scattered chrome, and burning gasoline.
I am a proud owner of a Royal Enfield, and will always be.
Time went by and the manpower turned into horsepowers during college. When my father bought me a basic, fuel saving, commuting motorbike to commute to the college. The whole "cool wind in my hair" part started to start making sense. The silver ride I had was the only thing that became an identity by itself. While I was learning how to save fuel by getting the maximum mileage, I met people who taught me how to ride the ride like a true biker. How to manage taking the steepest turn without slipping. How to shift gears using your toes and not heels. How to stop and control your bike without actually braking. How to ride on one wheel. How to ride and manage falling, if any, at an occurrence. How to ride and stop on one wheel. How to perform stunts to catch eyes. How to do a burnout. Like staying idle but managing to have the rear wheel turning on full throttle. How to enjoy the smell of the burning rubber. The idea behind all this was to understand the riding, obviously after we graduate, understanding the ride.
I'll admit that I was a wannabe and would still consider myself, a good one, when I see actual bike riders performing stunts, racing, with their girlfriends cheering. Well I always considered and believed that all bikers can be stunters. But all stunters can’t be bikers. I still remember while sitting behind in a Maruti, while my buddy driving us to Chandigarh, I heard the loud thump of two Royal Enfield bullets, passing by us. On closer focusing I see two firangs in black leather vests and blue jeans's, laying back on the luggage nicely tied on the rear seat as a back rest. Eyes widened and jaw dropped, I could just wave at them. They acknowledged by a slight nod and a thumbs up sign, and thumped away. This is the actual biking, is what I thought. And I pledged I’ll buy a Royal Enfield. There's something about this bike that makes head turn. No matter how freaking powerful bike you own, you just can’t ignore when one Royal Enfield passes by. How can I forget, the day I managed to ride one, that belonged to a friend of mine from college. Since that day, I used to beg him to let me ride his ride. It was official that I rode his bike more than him, when we both used to go out someplace. Some days later I got to know that my own roommate's father bought him a Royal Enfield. Well, I begged him too. I found another friend who bought an old, non working, rusted, second hand, Royal Enfield from his brother in law, to satisfy his passion, who took 6 months to pimp it up and make the sexiest Bullet in Pune, that time. Now I had my 3 best buddies, riding the thumpers while I’m sitting pillion with them trying to count the thumps.
Two years later, while I was working for a corporate organization, I figured, that I was in a position to save some money, and either invest or finance my hobbies. Luck favored me and God blessed me, that I could gift myself a brand new Royal Enfield, Machismo 500, on my own birthday. Now this time, it was my mom and dad who had their jaws dropped and eyes wide open. Buying a bike costing over a lakh, at that time, was like getting married to someone, against my parent's wishes. Except my two friends, nobody understood, or I guess still understands, my eloped affair with my bullet. I don’t think anyone will understand how I felt that day. The day, when I wasn’t counting but, dictating the thumps. The day, when the sound of a bullet didn’t turn my head, but everyone else's. The day when I realized, I can be mean to any two wheeler on the road. The day, when I understood why this bike's made like a gun, to obviously shoot like a bullet. Ridden it on highways, streets, helipads, Bombay’s floods, summers, winters, days, nights. But with the decency of sleeping with my hands stuck in the spokes of the wheel, keeping my pants on. 16 months now. And 16,000 clocked.
Today, I ride to work and work to ride and when I die, may I be surrounded with scattered chrome, and burning gasoline.
I am a proud owner of a Royal Enfield, and will always be.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
boo hoo... :(
eleven days to go
i still don't have a date..
how long i dunno
will i have to wait..
to find someone of my own
to open her heart's gate..
she should be here, you know
before it gets too late..
be it a friend of foe
any city, town or state..
oh, i'm feeling so low
i'm still looking for a date..
i still don't have a date..
how long i dunno
will i have to wait..
to find someone of my own
to open her heart's gate..
she should be here, you know
before it gets too late..
be it a friend of foe
any city, town or state..
oh, i'm feeling so low
i'm still looking for a date..
Monday, January 19, 2009
Again???
I think I've had this feeling before
It's like some strange sweet pain
I dunno, maybe I'm not that sure
Maybe I'm becoming insane
It's getting hard for me to ignore
But it's harder for me to explain
I'm addicted, and maybe i want more
Are you making me fall in love again???
It's like some strange sweet pain
I dunno, maybe I'm not that sure
Maybe I'm becoming insane
It's getting hard for me to ignore
But it's harder for me to explain
I'm addicted, and maybe i want more
Are you making me fall in love again???
Monday, December 22, 2008
Them
She tries to make sure she moves on
When the begining started with an end
She tries to stand up and carry on
When all she could ever do was pretend
He tries to stop his tears from rolling
When there's no shoulder around
He tries to help himself consoling
When he's losin all what he ever found
She tries to close her big brown eyes
When the world is busy dreaming
She tries to cover all those lies
When nobody hears them screaming
He tries to forgive and keep himself calm
When things start goin apart
He looks at his wounded palm
When he tries healing his broken heart
When the begining started with an end
She tries to stand up and carry on
When all she could ever do was pretend
He tries to stop his tears from rolling
When there's no shoulder around
He tries to help himself consoling
When he's losin all what he ever found
She tries to close her big brown eyes
When the world is busy dreaming
She tries to cover all those lies
When nobody hears them screaming
He tries to forgive and keep himself calm
When things start goin apart
He looks at his wounded palm
When he tries healing his broken heart
Monday, December 8, 2008
Four
Sometimes it takes 5 minutes, and even 5 days to blend the perfect outcome, when i write. It took me 4 hours to write this one. The thoughts were not flowing in.. Every paragraph was completed after the end of 1 hour of thinking. In layman's language, 4 hours - 4 paragraphs. Uhhh okay 4 hours - 8 lines. This was the outcome of 4 different moods at 4 different hours. Its titled after another 4 minutes of thinking, as Four :oP
he points his own head with his own gun
smiles, realizing that he should reconsider and think
he checks whether there's anything left undone
smiles, knowing, it'll be over in a blink
he decides that he should unload his gun
smiles, as he pours himself another drink
he picks up the pen to write another one
smiles, realizing his pen had no ink
he points his own head with his own gun
smiles, realizing that he should reconsider and think
he checks whether there's anything left undone
smiles, knowing, it'll be over in a blink
he decides that he should unload his gun
smiles, as he pours himself another drink
he picks up the pen to write another one
smiles, realizing his pen had no ink
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
walk against the wind
Everythin might come back to where it was
As whatever goes up must come down.
What was i thinkin, what was the cause
There's no point being the talk of the town.
No you need not worry and say sorry
It was me who fell in love.
Maybe I was in such a hurry
I didn't think from the head up above.
That it's not that easy as it sounds
Its a lot tougher than what i imagined.
I hoped to achieve unachievable grounds
As it was never easy to walk against the wind.
As whatever goes up must come down.
What was i thinkin, what was the cause
There's no point being the talk of the town.
No you need not worry and say sorry
It was me who fell in love.
Maybe I was in such a hurry
I didn't think from the head up above.
That it's not that easy as it sounds
Its a lot tougher than what i imagined.
I hoped to achieve unachievable grounds
As it was never easy to walk against the wind.
maybe...
All the butterflies now, are dead
I could see my face's fading glow.
Everything faded back to pink, from red
I can feel my heartbeat going slow.
Mixed emotions, overflow my head
Maybe it was meant to be a no.
Maybe I shouldn't just have said
Maybe I should just, let it go...
I could see my face's fading glow.
Everything faded back to pink, from red
I can feel my heartbeat going slow.
Mixed emotions, overflow my head
Maybe it was meant to be a no.
Maybe I shouldn't just have said
Maybe I should just, let it go...
unanswered questions
What do you call it, when you continuously think and think of someone?
What do you call it, when your feelings grow and your heart weighs a ton?
What do you call it, when you do something but always seems undone?
What do you call it, when life goes in slow motion, enjoying all the fun?
Why do I think, that without her, I won't be able to live?
Why do I always want her, is she so damn addictive?
Why do I think, that she's the one, and there's no alternative?
Why does being with her, gives me a high, that no other drug can give?
How does she make my life taste like a lime?
How does she make my existence in this world, rhyme?
How does she do things to me, that can't be called crime?
How does she make my heart beat, fast and slow at the same time?
What do you call it, when your feelings grow and your heart weighs a ton?
What do you call it, when you do something but always seems undone?
What do you call it, when life goes in slow motion, enjoying all the fun?
Why do I think, that without her, I won't be able to live?
Why do I always want her, is she so damn addictive?
Why do I think, that she's the one, and there's no alternative?
Why does being with her, gives me a high, that no other drug can give?
How does she make my life taste like a lime?
How does she make my existence in this world, rhyme?
How does she do things to me, that can't be called crime?
How does she make my heart beat, fast and slow at the same time?
coffee loves chocolate
Now this is something i wrote for a woman who used to call me coffee. And obviously i used to call her chocolate. I wrote this for her. Coffee loves chocolate.
continuously thinking
of you, my love
fallen so badly
feels like heaven above
every moment is worthwhile
especially when it's you, my love
life will be awesome
once we get together
validity of my love will
equate to eternity, forever
so special you are to me
can't explain what you mean to me
how did I fall in love with you
only you know what you did to me
crazy I am for you
oh, my only desire is you
listen to my heartbeat
and look into my eyes
to know if my love is true
eradicate my lonliness, love me do...
p.s. by the way..did you get the catch? no? hmmm.. just the way the woman i wrote this for. even she didnt get it. read the first alphabet of each line from top to bottom. remember.. alphabet. not the word.
continuously thinking
of you, my love
fallen so badly
feels like heaven above
every moment is worthwhile
especially when it's you, my love
life will be awesome
once we get together
validity of my love will
equate to eternity, forever
so special you are to me
can't explain what you mean to me
how did I fall in love with you
only you know what you did to me
crazy I am for you
oh, my only desire is you
listen to my heartbeat
and look into my eyes
to know if my love is true
eradicate my lonliness, love me do...
p.s. by the way..did you get the catch? no? hmmm.. just the way the woman i wrote this for. even she didnt get it. read the first alphabet of each line from top to bottom. remember.. alphabet. not the word.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
ya right....
here i go again, this time with just a pen in hand
no thoughts, no emotions, no laws of the land
guess its bout time, maybe, i desreve my stand
this time its just my head baby, coz heartbeats are banned
not drugged, not drunk, not even one percent stoned
im possessed, i belong, im totally owned
no this cannot be a phase, im so emotionally cloned
do you know its a handicap, no you dont
you kissed me goodbye, when i was leaving for the airport
i had tears in my eyes, not wanting to be onboard
as soon as the flight for two straight hours, landed
the first thing i got to know that you had actually planned it
i loved u like a princess, gave u everythin around
i moved to this city, to earn, buy you a diamond studded crown
he emotoinally blackmailed you and made you travel all the way down
coz he didnt have the balls to touch you, when i was in town
being his slave is what you call being on cloud number nine
what me jealous? no way, im perfectly fine
you would know better whether his lips taste better than mine
but then i doubt your taste or maybe he's just blind
alright he seduced you, coz he has the art mastered
maybe your love helps him to get his heart beat faster
his talks melt you weak, the broken gets plastered
baby realize it, in my dictionary, hes nothin but a bastard
what did he look like, when he looked down deep in your eyes
was it romantic, candlenight, champaigne over ice
or was it really scary, when he closed those curtains
tell me what the fuck were you thinkin when he opened your buttons
dont be surprised to see me cruisin on this road
when you could never possibly imagine me, in this eye widening mode
well i'll be honest, i did fantasize you, when i really got bored
my mind enjoyed the foreplay, now i gotta jerk off this load
remember when you used to be alone and stranded
and the way i made your life a little more candid
when i used to get caught loving you red handed
and all you used to do was take me for granted
this doggy never bit you, this doggy never barked
this doggy stayed awake, to see the baby sleeping in the dark
this doggy simply hugged you remembering that old park
now he's left tilting his head with a single question mark
i kept letting you know, that i wont ever halt
i will forgive, i will forget, as it was my default
no sorries, no worries, no pointed assault
i fail to understand, what in the world was my fault
i hope you know this, that whatever you did was totally wrong
by the end of it, you must know where exactly you really belong
dont just take these words as a beautiful rapped song
baby realize that pretendence doesnt make anyone strong
no thoughts, no emotions, no laws of the land
guess its bout time, maybe, i desreve my stand
this time its just my head baby, coz heartbeats are banned
not drugged, not drunk, not even one percent stoned
im possessed, i belong, im totally owned
no this cannot be a phase, im so emotionally cloned
do you know its a handicap, no you dont
you kissed me goodbye, when i was leaving for the airport
i had tears in my eyes, not wanting to be onboard
as soon as the flight for two straight hours, landed
the first thing i got to know that you had actually planned it
i loved u like a princess, gave u everythin around
i moved to this city, to earn, buy you a diamond studded crown
he emotoinally blackmailed you and made you travel all the way down
coz he didnt have the balls to touch you, when i was in town
being his slave is what you call being on cloud number nine
what me jealous? no way, im perfectly fine
you would know better whether his lips taste better than mine
but then i doubt your taste or maybe he's just blind
alright he seduced you, coz he has the art mastered
maybe your love helps him to get his heart beat faster
his talks melt you weak, the broken gets plastered
baby realize it, in my dictionary, hes nothin but a bastard
what did he look like, when he looked down deep in your eyes
was it romantic, candlenight, champaigne over ice
or was it really scary, when he closed those curtains
tell me what the fuck were you thinkin when he opened your buttons
dont be surprised to see me cruisin on this road
when you could never possibly imagine me, in this eye widening mode
well i'll be honest, i did fantasize you, when i really got bored
my mind enjoyed the foreplay, now i gotta jerk off this load
remember when you used to be alone and stranded
and the way i made your life a little more candid
when i used to get caught loving you red handed
and all you used to do was take me for granted
this doggy never bit you, this doggy never barked
this doggy stayed awake, to see the baby sleeping in the dark
this doggy simply hugged you remembering that old park
now he's left tilting his head with a single question mark
i kept letting you know, that i wont ever halt
i will forgive, i will forget, as it was my default
no sorries, no worries, no pointed assault
i fail to understand, what in the world was my fault
i hope you know this, that whatever you did was totally wrong
by the end of it, you must know where exactly you really belong
dont just take these words as a beautiful rapped song
baby realize that pretendence doesnt make anyone strong
Mobile post sent by outlaw using Utterli.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
peer pressure
my hands on the keyboard. my eyes set on the screen. i see the blog name on the left and sign out on the right. i am wondering how do i start.
blogs. when searched on google, i found out that it means a commentary, views on a particular subject, maintained by an individual. from freinds i realised, its just a diary, a web diary, which is open for the general public as well. i have few hardcore blogger friends, who just come up with whatever they have in their heads, out on the blog. sounds simple.
these hardcore bloggers, pushwap me, to share, comment, discuss, debate, paint my emotions, thoughts, views upon my individuality. i start blogging. no idea, where this would lead to. just a question, if anyone would actually be interested to read. i am not out of ideas, its just that i have never written anything like this. yeah few hopeless romantic poems, that touch thehearts of all those people who read them, except those for whom the poem was actually written.
only books, that i have read are The Holy Bible, Instruction manual for my Royal Enfield, Kodak book of photography, and the Guitar Chords book. I havent read a single novel in my whole life. I aint an Einstein when it comes to literature. I am not even sure whether i can spell words correctly. and i dont find any automatic spellcheck on this blog post draft layout. makes me more nervous.
hardcore blogger, Mr. Syal told me, "blogs are simply a method of expressing one's self. It can be based on fact or it can be a piece of fiction. It can be an incident in your life or a story that brings your point across and gives the other person reading, a reason to sit back and think..."
This sure gave me a reason to sit back and think... how do i cope up with the peer pressure.
blogs. when searched on google, i found out that it means a commentary, views on a particular subject, maintained by an individual. from freinds i realised, its just a diary, a web diary, which is open for the general public as well. i have few hardcore blogger friends, who just come up with whatever they have in their heads, out on the blog. sounds simple.
these hardcore bloggers, pushwap me, to share, comment, discuss, debate, paint my emotions, thoughts, views upon my individuality. i start blogging. no idea, where this would lead to. just a question, if anyone would actually be interested to read. i am not out of ideas, its just that i have never written anything like this. yeah few hopeless romantic poems, that touch thehearts of all those people who read them, except those for whom the poem was actually written.
only books, that i have read are The Holy Bible, Instruction manual for my Royal Enfield, Kodak book of photography, and the Guitar Chords book. I havent read a single novel in my whole life. I aint an Einstein when it comes to literature. I am not even sure whether i can spell words correctly. and i dont find any automatic spellcheck on this blog post draft layout. makes me more nervous.
hardcore blogger, Mr. Syal told me, "blogs are simply a method of expressing one's self. It can be based on fact or it can be a piece of fiction. It can be an incident in your life or a story that brings your point across and gives the other person reading, a reason to sit back and think..."
This sure gave me a reason to sit back and think... how do i cope up with the peer pressure.
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