Sunday 31 August, 2008

Those 19 years  

When on the threshold of 20 years , everything which a normal guy would have gone through,I had been through.Well the following is just the reflection of those ironic years .Today , If I want to look back at those years the only way to do that is to be pensive or to look at this post .


19 years passed
and I am yet to explore myself
feel like I am an angel
turning into a demon

The light is fading
and I am hoping for the sun
but I am still wondering
where can i find a gun?

Every passing second
felt worth a year
no breathe,no voice
I can hear.

Sinking in my hell
deeper and deeper.
Waiting for someone
to lift me up.
I am so weak
can't pull myself together
don't really know who I am.

Thoughts flowing all around
making me clumsy and clumsier
Ironic as it may sound
it seems I am about to touch heaven

You taught me how to breathe,
how to hide,
how to leave,
how to choke,and
You taught me how to eat.

Its better to bury myself
because I can't pretend
to be like them
I am not like them
all I've is
being true to myself
be yourself is all that You can do

I wish I was like You
easily amused
but I am not like them
I cant pretend
I love myself more than You
I know it's wrong,
what should i do.
everything is my fault
I take all the blame..

What else should I write,
I don't have any right
what else should I write,
I don't have any apologies
it's the season
I am the reason
I've seen all
I've grown fast

Lightning fucking around in my head
fierce, dangerous, pathetic, fucked up.
people freaking everyday
white lights inside asking,
what do You want

Please don't grade me
You don't have any right
I am simply having fun
being myself
thats all I can do.

It's my life
I'll crack it my way
don't try to explore
or dare to interfere
Let me be the way I am
I am having fun
I am not dumb

Stay away..
Peace.

Friday 25 July, 2008

heard ?  


MusicPlaylistRingtones

Thursday 26 June, 2008

The Urge of a Father  

Ata,
The piece is excellent .
the flow of thoughts are flawless.
you have surged in your urge,
dont purge your urge.

But ,
to urge is to desire and when you desire you act;
which is a responsible act .
so the "deserve" you acheive by urging is responsibility .

A virgin is parent who desires and deserves a child or a result .
so be a parent in your thoughts and not a virgin .
A virgin is one who is on a verge but not in .
so be in and not on the verge .
I know there are people who will take the meaning of virgin on its street value ,
but nonetheless one who knows the naunces of the language do not ponder but splurge on its sweet meanings .
you surge ahead of the word to its real meaning .

Good,
keep urging and make your father your best friend ,
for he keeps you as his best friend ,
as he was to his father , as son , as the best of friends.

keep blogging responsibily ,
Saadullah ,
Your father .

Monday 9 June, 2008

Urge  

When You go past an ice-cream stall and desire an ice-cream, that’s called Urge .
When You pay no heed to that Urge and continue to follow Your path because of sheer laziness, that’s called stupidity.I have another name for it too however I wish to preserve my respect .

There are so many times when You wish that the unimaginable intensity of the Urge could be controlled and most of the time the wish is denied and You end up ignoring it . An Urge, very instinctive , generates a strong restless desire which crosses the limits and the boundaries of passion itself . The Urge I am talking about is momentary but then the events which follow it freeze to be the moments of Your life . Urge is instinctive . It is not planned . It can never be planned .

You are here reading and I am here writing because of our Urge . You and I are a result of this urge . I am not here to write definitions of Urge but the only reason I am writing this is because of the Urge,the desire, to write .

I Urge to do something and then ditch the whole set up by backing out .I Urge to do something and then suffer from what they call laziness .In fact laziness might not be the word. Procrastination suits perfectly .There is a very thin line between laziness and procrastination.The former and the latter know exactly where they stand .

You Urge to get flowers for Your someone .But drop it because You might seem over romantic .
You Urge to make sure that Your someone reaches college or office or home safely .But You back out stating to yourself that “give that person some space”.You Urge to talk to Your dad .
But You would rather talk to a friend .You still Urge to get Yourself back on track , Urge to become more responsible .But yet You feel You have Your whole life to desire , to Urge .

Numerous days , numerous hours , numerous seconds , yet the Urge continues . Urge is dangerous . Dangerous because of the fact that when You Urge , You procrastinate or at least I . My Urge goes beyond the level of my imagination . I desire unknowingly and also in fact knowing
that it will not fulfill and knowing well enough that my Urge will only be a desire . It will remain a desire .

But yet I desire , I urge .In a hope that someday my desires would be complete .In a hope that my instincts are not demotivated by the events that follow the Urge .I have always urged and have always felt the need to crush the desire .I hope this post of mine helps me twain my Urge and the events that follow .In hope ,I can only Urge .Still in hope,I wish to Urge , even more.

Tuesday 22 April, 2008

The Business of the Scene and the Wish  

The scene is dull with Mozart playing their way in the background. Twin tubes fixed at just enough elevation to be able to read, flickers. The writer ponders and ponders over and over at every flicker as to who is the manufacturer of the tube.Just then an inside voice shouting at the top of its minimum maximum voice telling me to, “hey look up !” .

The scene is set to write.
To write whatever comes to my mind.
This mind of mine is very unpredictable.
Unpredictable is also the climate.
The climate makes me feel like an African.
An African has no option but to bear the brunt of the heat which is bestowed on him by the lord or let’s just put it in the atheist version, the nature.
The nature that I am made of is very unpredictable.
Being unpredictable always means that I end up thinking or doing just the thing that I wanted to do but in a way I do not understand why I am doing it.
I know you understand none of it.
But at least try pretending to.
I think and end up getting to the same point where I start.
So I start from where I started.

The scene has been set up for writing and
Now I am in the mood of it.
Sorry for the trouble.

I recall scenes when some very dear friends of mine ask me to write more so that they can read more.
I recall thoughts where I find myself thinking, do they really want me to write or are they just going around praising the posts I write.
I recall my passion to get satisfaction form the compliments I receive.
I end up doing nothing but just recall the scene that I started with.
The inner voice still tries hard to tell that the compliments are for real and ever genuine and thus started its domination.

My life is damn circle. Life is viscous circle they say. I never did believe it. I am left with no choice but to believe.

The writer wishes that those friends of mine understand what he writes down or at least try pretending to do so.
The writer still wishes he would get his share of compliment and comments.
The writer wishes he could go back to the scene he loved to live.
The writer still wishes to wish .
The writer stills his thoughts and wishes to still his life .

and thus wishing so,
and knowing that some wishes just follow the path of impossibility, do not come true .

So, the writer wishes to end, not knowing if this is the right place.
but always wishing that the end is always right .

Sunday 16 March, 2008

Almost is what it has become  




Relationships I have been in seem to have 'almost' glued on it. where ever I go , whoever I be with , whatever I do , the 'almost' never goes away . It never wears off. How I wish I would be ‘complete’. How I wish I would be associated with completeness. How I wish things would just be complete.

Friends I have taken an oath to die along, have been mocking this infamous ability of mine to leave things on an almost note, always , and I cannot help but grin and crib on the inside. It hurts when I am not completing stuff. It hurts even more when the almost relationship gets pulled and lost into completeness with some other complete person.

There have been instances when I am in a relationship and come out of it, get into it once again, come out of it again. The sequence continuing and dwelling itself into an almost state, state which only tends to instigate fear and hostility. Such an almost state has always been despised and yet has been stuck to me like a spell.I would lose this jinx only when I am constantly getting the complete in place of an almost.

There have also been instances when I get into a relationship with a almost printed on it since the very beginning and I keep looking at it and wait for it to spell complete .In such a relationship is that you never can figure out what is happening . You are always under uncertainties of truth and uncertain is how u move and uncertain is how you love.

I have long started to feel suicidal because everything I want does not come to me, everything I want does not want me. The feeling grows larger when everything I tried to work for ended up not being mine and things I do not work for become mine and stick to me forever. Sometimes I wonder how things are left at almost with me, analyzing does not help a bit and neither killing my thoughts .

All my life, I have lived for the other.
All my life, I have lived for me.
All my life, I keep being upset about the almost.
All my life, this will go on and on.

And,

All my life, will I be writing posts after posts about my fates here?
All my life, will I be telling you my miseries?

All my life, would I be writing uninteresting long tales about myself?

No,
All my life, I will be pondering on my mistakes and healing them.
All my life, I will be healing the almost and
All my life, I will be writing in this very place.

All my life, I will be me.
All my life, I will be with you.

All my life, I will feel you .
All my life , I will be mine .
All my life, I will be in thought.

And then,
My life will be all.


Thursday 13 March, 2008

rang de basanti  

THE FOLLOWING FOUR POSTS HAVE BEEN MY FIRST REAL WORK . I HAVE WRITTEN THESE MOVIE REVIEWS AND ACTOR REVIEWS FOR A WEBSITE, AND GUESS WHAT I GET PAID FOR IT ;) AND HERE IT GOES .

Earlier patriotism in Hindi films often turned jingoistic. It looked forced, at times unreal, it often looked like an attempt to unnecessarily arouse patriotism and nothing seemed to happen. . The genre is treated differently today. Patriotism in Hindi films looks real and more importantly it looks from the view of the common man and the youth.


Director Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra merges two plots in RANG DE BASANTI. The first is about a group of friends, their bonding, and the carefree lifestyle they lead. The second plot pertains to the past, when freedom fighters sacrificed their lives during the pre-independence era. Without doubt, portions of the movie prick my conscience.

Mehra draws parallels between Indians ruled by the British and Indians ruled by corrupt politicians today. The message is subtle at first, but echoes piercingly before it reaches its finale. The transition of the five friends from meaningless to meaningful existence is done brilliantly.The awakening, after one of their friends dies in an air crash, is master strokes from the writing point of view, the sequence of events that lead to the climax take an idealistic route. The friends enter a radio station, force the staffers to leave the premises, go Live, confess to the world that they’ve gunned down the Defence Minister for certain reasons. By then, the commandos get into action and the radio station turns into a battleground.

Also, RANG DE BASANTI unfolds at a leisurely pace all through. After establishing the characters in the first 30 minutes, the story doesn’t really race forward instead it created a vision for me and I would say oh! I need to be this guy or I need to be that guy . I need to do that; I need to do this from now on.

Products of modern India, the five youngsters initially refuse to be part of the project as they don't identify with these characters from the past. Not surprising, considering that they are a part of a generation of Indians that believes in consumerism. To them issues like patriotism and giving one's life for one's beliefs is the stuff text-books are made of. They would rather party than be patriots.

To conclude on a heavier note, I loved the film on respects of its patriotism and the youthness that it had. The portrayal of transition and portrayal of fun would not be missed. I would actually be so generous to rank it as the movie of the decade. Some have been even more generous. I love the film even more for the realness of display of reaction by the youngsters of different colleges after the gun down by the commandos. I loved the movie because of the on air scenes in the radio station and lastly I loved the movie because I saw myself in the movie .

300 -The movie  



A movie where you see gore being so beautifully portrayed is not a gore movie, it’s called a wonderful movie. 300 is about 300 Spartans who fight till the last man against a Persian king Xerxes and his army of over a million soldiers . Since birth Spartans have been trained to fight mercilessly and the biggest honor for them is to die while fighting, an honor even bigger than that of the getting victory to the state that was Sparta. Sometimes when you look at the 6 pack abs of the Spartans holding a spear in one hand and a shield in another conjures up jealousy and demands the viewer to actually cry out and ask himself why does he not have those abs!
300 is an adaptation of a novel by frank miller. Little did someone know that a novel to movie culture would give the producer never stagnant bank account? But almost all the credit for the awesome display of war scenes and individual fights goes to that of the graphics and the special effects team.

And all the credit goes to the script writers and the dialogue writers. Dialogues like “tonight we dine in hell”
“Madness? This is Sparta!”
“Give them nothing but take from them everything”, will take your breath way because the delivery is just perfect.

The background music is way from awesome because without the music the movie would have been just plain. It was the music which added effects to the battle scenes. Some of the scenes were blatantly hilarious like the one when the Spartan king eats an apple so casually amidst hundreds of the dead.

I’m glad this movie didn’t pretend to be anything more than what it was marketed to be. It was marketed as a visual treat, and who can say it wasn’t? It was marketed as a straight-up, no holds-barred war movie, and who can say it wasn’t? The cheesy love scenes with the queen in a movie, 300 six-packed testosterone-and-adrenaline-filled dudes on a killing spree would have satisfied me enough yet I’m not going to complain about a naked woman.

Shushmita sen  


If you happen not to know anything about the lady then let me just give you a briefing on her. Shushmita was born a Bengali. In 1994, at the age of eighteen, Shushmita won the title of Miss India narrowly beating out Aishwarya Rai, who was the favorite to win the contest. At Miss Universe, the judges placed their votes on Shushmita, making her the first woman from India to become Miss Universe. So soon began her career in bollywood and thus fame struck her.

Shushmita's movies with Shahrukh khan claimed honor for her and thus fame being a by product of it, paved its way to her. The reason of her admiration by me is because of the fact that her screen presence is woah! Ever noticed someone capturing the frame along with Shahrukh Khan and gathering attention? Well, needless to say I did.

There have been so many movies of her that crashed at the bollywood and in the recent times she has not been getting any real acting contracts but during her peak period which was in her late 20’s she got some offers which anyone would die for . Apart from the screen presence the reason for the dreams of the long legged lady has been because of the person she is. About 8 years ago a girl called Renee was adopted by her and since then she has been a single mother of her and has done the job very efficiently and I respect her for that since it’s not easy as a single mother and then juggling between Renee and her boyfriends is even tougher.

Though she has had a patch in the acting career, she has been very instinctive on accepting offers and putting her money in production houses and movies. She has also been receiving money for the endorsement so you know where the money comes from. I know there is not any sufficient reason for me to actually term her as one of my favorite actor but there has not been sufficient reason to deny that too.

Shahrukh khan!  



The person whose name is entitled on the top is being called the king of bollywood not on the mere talent of acting but on being a total showman . SRK as people usually call him or if they feel he is greater than that of the name itself, they would call him King Khan .He has been in the industry for about 20 years, each year having one or more blockbusters in the box office. Something about Shahrukh khan which everyone knows is his inept ability to actually prepare graciously for what he wants and then deliver it even more graciously.

SRK falls into my very few list of favorite actors only because of the way he carries and charms the other. The other being a person, a group, media or an audience. Be it stage shows, movies, press releases, conferences or advertisements or wait did I forget marketing? Sometimes and larger than sometimes I have felt my growing need to term him as my idol not because he looks good or not because he is actor trained but because of the person he is. I could have happily chosen my dad as my idol but this guy, Shahrukh khan takes a better place than my dad for obvious reasons.

There have been innumerable movies of SRK that rose till the peak of box office and there have been innumerable movies that crashed to the deepest level of the prestigious box office, but his reputation, income and image has always been rising only for the fact that he will carry himself in such a way that the second or the third person would feel woah ! this is the man !

If you know what I am talking about then you must know how he got to one of the top bidders for IPL(Indian Premier League)

If you know what I am talking about then you must know how well he marketed for Om Shanti Om.

If you know what I am talking about then you must know the humor he generates for the people.

If you know what I am talking about then you must be knowing how he got to sit on the same platform with business tycoons in a Press conference and delivering meaning to his speech along with those of the Ambanis,Cement czars, Deccans, Kingfishers and the Zinta’s.

Do you know of anyone who would live for the people instead of himself or rather for the work instead of himself, well except for the politicians?I know all these qualities are of a business man and not an actor but someone once said, “To run business you should know how to act”. And guess what SRK has an added advantage of being a trained one.


Wednesday 12 March, 2008

Thinking  

Let me just start with asking do you know what you want?
So many times have I asked myself, what do I really want?

So many times have I tried asking the others by hinting or being blatant enough, but I get just the opposite.

Is this the truth that no body knows what they want?
Do we really not know what we want?
Oh come on, how can someone not know what he wants?

Still, the very question of what do I want spins around in my head.
Its 21 years from the womb and I am still not able to figure out what I really want!!!!!!

Sometimes what I want is very specific
Sometimes it goes to various depths
People, to whom I tell my aspirations, tell me, oh that! Hmm and I know the very second that they think I would not be able to make it. They know it cause I make such mind blowing plans , blue prints keep folding in my head and then when its actually the time to put them to work , I back off telling myself , lite le baap !

Seeing people fascinated me and still does so.
Seeing stills and movements will always be a part of it.
Sometimes all I really want to do is sit at a place and think, imagine, paint my thoughts in the mind. And to think of it, all I really want to do is think!

If you give me a 100000 today and you want me to do anything I like, I would assign a Personal Manager first, my thoughts would be put on a paper and then I would ask him to carry those thoughts into reality. Yes, I like the comfortable sack I sit on.

But at the end of the day all I get is responsibilities, and I am sick of all of it. I wanna be myself, be alone and think. Thinking and writing and reading and listening to music are the only few things I have a passion about.

When someone asks, what are your passions I will surely tell one day that I love to think.
I know thinking is just a process, a human process like breathing but lately, “thinking” is what I do all the time.
I wake up and think about how my day is gonna be.
I brush and think about yesterday while staring at the mirror.
And when I notice I am thinking too much, I think time is up.
I need to rush, and then I think about what my room has become of.
I go by the roads I think about the people, I am marveled by the acts, sometimes optimism for Hyderabad’s development springs up.
Sometimes thinking about the children playing on the streets cuts the thoughts, and then I venture into my school and think about how I royally screwed up my school life.

I think about what I am gonna do and then there comes a thought which bears the question of what am I gonna do after this.And then I think of the uncertainties of the word ‘future’ and then I think of what I should write in my blog

Thinking has also lately been a very integral part of my life.
When I think too much and in the process stop talking to my friends, I get a kick on my ass
It kinda helps because then I think about the itch on my ass.

Sunday 2 March, 2008

wondering ?  

oh if u are still wondering my state .
i got a bloody 28
hows this for screwing up my fate ?
did i mention to you earlier,mate ?
St.Mary's College is where i ate .

and oh if u also wonder how i fared in tally ?
it was a cake walk with a cherry being the finale.
Everything was my compute .
sheets filled by me despised copying and i followed suit .
but i also think about the other .
so i let the another , copy .
but this time i was not an inch sloppy .

oh and if u are also wondering how the external played her game ?
or rather i claimed my acclaim .
or may be that's what i think
but who cares as long as i win and she blinks .
this time it was me who was playing the tune
and she who was having fun holding the flute .

Friday 29 February, 2008

Am i the ass ? or Am i the ass ?  

Confidence and more self confidence erupted before the sleep took over yester night .the sleep had dreams or rather nightmares of the mildest nature and then I realized oh! This is what they call nightmares. I had visions of me waking up late for the practical exam. I had visions which I don not even remember .I had visions that I was screwing my life up. I had visions of me crying. I had visions of me desperate to make an effort not to get scared. And I did not take the cue form the very visions I had that today is gonna be the hell which u just visited.

I had a practical examination of web programming today and to give u the gist in just three good words, I SCREWED UP! I had made my arrangements and plans to do everything I cud to fill in the sheets with ink and that went so smooth until I started thinking about others. The weakness and the strength I possess have just been narrated to u. I think about others and then what happens? I get screwed up! I had arranged for the USB to put in all the answers in the computer and then stare and copy was the order. I was the copying king. And little did I know that a card called jack ass was still to be played on me. I was merrily writing my sheets and then assholeness struck me. I went up to check on how others were progressing and then kunal says hey! Ata! Call kiran fast. I said okay and then proceeded towards kiran and in between I see kaleem making merry with his sheets. I peeked into his and then the Bitch of an external saw me. (If I can make names sting to me then why not her?)

She said or rather ordered “have you finished executing?”

I said in a sheepishly tone “No.”

“Alright no problem come give me your viva”

“No ma’am I gotta get it signed from sir” in an even scared and trembling tone as if knowing fully what was coming.

“It doesn’t matter if you got it signed or not, you can do it afterwards also, first come and gimme the viva”erupted strongly from her very shrewd face.

I followed the tune she played, I followed the lead, and I followed the path to misery.

I blurted out my Hall ticket with full confidence and style knowing fully well that it would make no real difference. The difference was caused by Hussain’s glares which I had in my shirt pocket. She thought I was some Rowdy little guy trying to act smart and then I got it.

Did u ever experience the situation where an invisible force pulls your shoulders up and Ur legs down but no real physical difference is being made ‘cause you still remain lean?

Needless to say, I did!

First question: what are the various scripting languages?

Answer: sorry ma’am I do not know.

Reply by the external: you do not know that? Then how are you writing this exam!

Reply by me: okay, I am sorry I got confused with a lot of stuff, I said smiling and unconvincingly. I blurted out something which did not make sense but half of it did and I see a dot in her book which means correct.

Questions followed and I faltered at every step she asked me to take. Taking my chance I asked her please ma’am could you ask me something form HTML. I did not study VB script.

“Then why did you come to the exam hall” she said like that was the last thing I wanted to hear but she took her chance too. She asked me something from HTML. Couple of them were thrown at me and I caught the last one. Making her even more sure that the first guy she faces would be dumb. I got up after unsuccessful persuasion to ask me another set of questions.

If this was not enough, I get a minus ten for my leaving my paper and then talking Kunal . I try to smile and impress her but everything fails and then I resort to using techniques to ask everyone of the staff to erase the minus ten and one gave me a sigh of relief when he said it will be done ,don’t worry we wont let it happen .

I gave scowls and fuck you signs to everyone who laughed about the incident and especially to kunal. You deserve this ..!..

Anyways life is good. I will do better and create a different impression that the external has never seen. I will lick the entire syllabus that’s there for it. I have Tally tomorrow and if I don’t do well in that one too. I am gonna spit in the air until gravity plays its part and throws it back to me and then I will write a blog on how she laughed at me for being an ass of a person . Yes ! i have my moments too .

Thursday 28 February, 2008

disclaimer : I do not wish to Title this post . I do not take responsibilities for whatever is written down below cause those words are not mine . i do not wanna get into any mess and i have no intentions to harm any sentiments . i am just projecting these thoughts and words of Taslima Nasreen 'cause they were very beautifully written and i looked at it from a very different point of view, a view which a loner or someone in pain goes through . i only wish u understand what i am trying to tell here . lastly i have not read her writings nor do i support her. all i have read of her is that of below .

" I am such an offender and enemy of humanity
I am such an unpatriotic betrayer
I don't have a country that i can call mine ....
.... I told the truth therefore today i am a traitor
you walk shoulder to shoulder with liars
but i am the person who is the traitor "

" I live in a house which has a closed window
a window that i cant even open if i want to ...
.....i stay in a house where i don't want to stay
but i am forced to stay there
in pain , in breathlessness , I'm being forced to live
by this democracy
in a room day after day by the democracy
in a dark room full of uncertainties and fear
in a room i am being killed every moment by secularism
I have been imprisoned in a room by my dearest India
which is full of extremely busy people , where i doubt
that if they even have a couple of seconds to look at a human being like a human being ...

..maybe one day with the flag of democracy
wrapped around me , in my dearest India ,
someone will put me in a grave ,
a government officer he will be i guess .. "

Saturday 9 February, 2008

Transition peaking  

Exams closing in and all I do is sit in front of the system and watch movies of sheer class. Movies like the god father and schindler’s list are incomparable. The other sex says “what is it with godfather and men” and we reply with a love even more than that of the reply saying “we just love it”. Got the opportunity to see halla bol starring ajay devagan and shit man! What a movie, even though I sometimes feel that producers are using the very concept of patriotism and the regeneration of India theme to attract possible customers. But I pity the producers. I feel bad that the movie has not done well. The movie had a theme, an inspiration capable of shaking the country to its roots and pleading and demanding the people to look into themselves and answer ‘ARE WE MAN ENOUGH!’

“Chot lage to jaanwar bhi rota hai…

Insaan WO hai Jo doosro ki chot mehsoos kar sake...”

The movie has had its effect on me. I get down on roads, though reluctantly, when there is a traffic mess and try to make wheel flow smoother. I did that couple of times now. The first time I tried doing it, a feeling of let-it-be-man erupted. I wanted to be the change and cause the change but my body was scared, the mind was scared. what ultimately that I did not get down from my bike and then sped away through very small spaces. Felt like I was hiding my face and to make it worse my thoughts demanded me to go back and be the cause in the matter. I still had my hand speeding the bike. But today, I changed. I got down twice! Oh yeah, Hyderabad’s traffic is getting worse. I am no traffic manager but I do not jus want to curse someone.

Deep down inside me I know I have to admit it ‘I am the traffic jam’

During these times of my absence from here I felt I was going through a transitional phase, a gradation which had to come very early but some things are better when they arrive late because the excitement increases. Like we, in Hyderabad have our own standard time. We say five minutes but we are miles away calculating half an hour or so. Somehow I feel politicians take their training from Hyderabad.

I wanna get into public administration and public services. I wanna follow what my heart wants and for the first time in my life I know what I want and this is what I want and I will have what I want at any cost be it monetary or non monetary . This is my oath to myself to keep reminding me if I bow down to the demands of people I am close to. I know I won’t but I always have a back up.

Sometimes I think what will happen if I want to become a politician? Will I be the one who are running the country right now? Will I be the one who follow the rule of shutting down shops if they feel injustice has been done? Will I be the one who takes and gives bribes? And every time I think that I tell myself a single word ‘NO!’And sometimes I wonder do I really wanna be a politician and pat comes the answer, NO!

I feel I have matured enough to think about issues concerning the state at large and act towards it. I feel the moment is right and I know what I want to do.

Thursday 24 January, 2008

The card that cracked  


Haula: person who is stupid to the superlative degree of it. Rather, a person who is an ass, in my case.

I was sitting good on my bike which is often called khatara and very obviously. I have music banging in my ear always when on it. Not very far ahead I see this traffic police Qualis and a little further than that I see another traffic police swapping green into red on the star wars inspired sword look alike gadget. I very gladly being a good citizen with dare unimaginable, stopped at the signal. I waited waited waited for the signal to turn green. When you live in old city of Hyderabad and do stuff like this you get this, “arre haule!”

Just beside me I see another traffic police constable busy with challan-ing another of ‘the haula’ ,and I , I got caught by him . I made a straight face at him which I am pretty sure he gets it every time. I was not mad at the constable who caught me riding without helmet but I was mad at myself to have walked into a sure trap for myself. the signal constable had a trick here which I fell for , whenever he saw couple or more riders who did not have helmet on , he would flash the red signal and this would mean we have no where to go but lead ourselves into the trap . Damn you constable!

I, with no protest got led by him to the Qualis where the inspector was sitting. Another thing which I noticed about traffic constables is that they try to take you as far away from the Qualis only because they might get the cash instead of the government by us! Yes I am the haula of old city.

I get down from my bike will full style probably wanting him to think he has caught a fish and it would reward him in the long run. and look at what I get , “license , RC , Pollution sab nikalo” I remove my license and this guy has a look at it . Turning it upside down turning it and doing whatever he wanted with the card I gave. He was checking it whether it was fake or real and next he does is bend the card!!! Arre! didn’t anyone tell him that to check if the card is fake you turn around and look at the hologram .He bent my card and it cracked in places. I somehow got the instinct of Spiderman and thought I could check the card, I demand to show me the card, he says ruko. I say what the fuck man!

“bade bhai card dikhao yahaan par, kya karre? card tod diye mera?” I am almost on the verge of fighting with him when he runs away to the inspector who writes challans. I went to him and said “arre une mera card tod diya!”

Inspector replies “tumich cheene na ji, aisa cheene to tut jata na”

Me, an ass, still fumed and blurted out. “nahin maloom une mera card kaisa toda! us ko paise pay karo bolo ab”

He mocked at me and said “arre huale hogaye kya ji tum, ladne ka itna hi shauk hai to jao criminal case karr do us par.”

My Indian-ness aroused “hau! pehleich itne saare cases poadhe hue hai, ab case kiya to 3 4 mahine ke baad ata” woah I felt proud when I said that.

And then I did nothing, argued a little bit with the inspector again and the constable too and paid the fine of rs.100 and cursed myself all the way back home thinking of the broken card I have.

I was riding down the same road today and I see the constable playing the same trick of turning the lights red.

I drove, I sped, I fled, he shouted! I felt great.

Now people look at me and I get this, “once a haula never a haula”

Wednesday 16 January, 2008

The Paradox is me  

I am sick and tired of writing about myself, my life. I want to write , I wanna do something for someone other than me, I wanna think for the society , for the city I live in , for the country I am a national to .

This thought of mine in words is because I have nothing to write? Is it because I have everything to write but nothing interesting to write? Is it because I everything interesting to write about but nothing to interest you ?

I write in this very post of mine to impress you, to interest you. My life in this virtual blog revolves around the comments I receive. The more I receive the more I write. The more I write the more I feel good. The more I write the more I try to impress you.

There have been innumerable times where I read , reread my posts so that I get to notice what I feel I missed out , so that I get to notice , is it interesting you ?

I wanna do big , I wanna be big , I wanna help others be big . I wanna be the one!

But nothing I want, wants to happen,

Because I make nothing happen!

Sometimes I pose my own questions and answer them myself, or rather always.

This post of mine may be a farewell to whatever I wrote out here. I wanna write something new, something which excites people, something which inspires me. I write for the people rather than me.

My posts have always had a hint of darkness and I liked it that way, I would want to have the darkness transferred to my post and feel it that way.

Sometimes it crosses the level of insane-ness. And that’s how I like it.

These are just fragment of my thoughts I wish to write, probably a gist of what all provoked me to write, probably a gist of what all I wrote.

Lastly and contradicting everything I wrote, I will continue to write about myself, my thoughts because that’s how I get to read them.

But but but I will also write about what I feel I should be, the world at large.

And,
This is me,
Yours Paradoxically,
Ataullah or rather Me .

Tuesday 15 January, 2008

The Kid  

There was this incident that happened that left me wondering for nights together. I would keep thinking about the child in this incident, keep on admiring myself, keep on admiring him, keep on admiring his parents but the answer would always be nothing.

Whenever there are some religious ceremonies happening, or whenever there is a festival to be celebrated, we a group of more than handful of guys serves food for our jamaat (group of people who are from the same sect and have certain common beliefs). We serve food to the women in our jamaat. The reason we serve food is to derive satisfaction and pleasure out of it. We serve food because we have got nothing better to do. We serve food because we can be proud of doing something for the community. We also pick up thaals (a very large round aluminum plate, larger than the drum used for March past and by orchestra). The reason for doing that is to prove our mardangi to everyone around and not just to clean the place. We clean the place and serve so that we get our recognition of the work we are doing and the receive gratitude towards the work done for them.

We’ve been doing the thaal lifting work very efficiently and then suddenly a kid turns up right in front of me, raising his hand forward. I knew nothing about what was happening. My first thought was that, why would the kid want to pick up such a heavy thaal. I know kids get inquisitive on how it’s picked up and stuff but no one has happened to ever ask to pick up a thaal, a thaal is heavy man! It’s not a child’s play.

I bend down and ask, ‘kya hua?’ He said nothing.

I again asked ‘kya hua chotu? Thaal hona?’ he did not utter a word but the eyes said it all.

He raised his hand again and motioned a shake. I was left perturbed by the incident. My hand paved its way towards his. They met, they shook and he left. Left I was with a feeling unexplained. A small kid shook my hand and ran away and I did nothing but stare at him run past me. People around me were staring and smiling in belief of

‘Oh! He deserved it’

I was left there with my thoughts moving around so rapidly and nothing working. It was like feeling content. It was like satisfaction has reached its peak and I need nothing. Though I cannot really guess what was cooking in the kid’s mind. You have no idea what might have provoked it. Was it because we serve? Was it because we clean the place of the thaals? Was it because we take too much care? Then why was it only me that the kid shook hands with? Why was I shown the gratitude?

I would love to receive these answers, but I think I already have them subconsciously. Now all I need to do is serve the kid and the women there and bask in the glory of the gratitude of the kid on behalf of all of them.

Thank You, Kid.

This is to you.

Thursday 10 January, 2008

Extreme Randomness  


Whenever I try to get myself not to think about what has happened with me in the past or whatever I have done with myself , with others , I end up doing just the opposite . I cannot help it. My future hangs like a pendulum in mid air, innocence shining off it and a delicate push could deliver multiple oscillations. My life is kinda the same. The future is as violent and unpredictable as the oscillations. The steadiness of it is the present I live in. I wish not to be like this. Sometimes I wish someone would calculate my moves, someone would know just when I would stop oscillating. I wish everything would stop, I wish I would stop. I am sick of oscillating. I am sick of everything. I am not a sadist.

The past I talk about is very glorious and yet painful when I talk about it. I am still unsure if writing here is the right thing to do. If I see it through my eyes , I see myself passing through hell and when I see it from others eyes , I see myself passing through oh-what-a-life-he-has-had expression . But whenever I talk about it, there is always a mixed reaction. I feel happy and yet sad. I loved my school and I loved my school life too. But I hated it then too. I still have the same thing for it.

My thoughts are of extremes, my ideas believe in them, and my life is a product of it. By extremism I mean, my thoughts are poles apart. It’s like they have a life of their own going wherever they want to. The same goes for my music. I listen to some very soothing pop numbers and sometimes I listen to very hard metal beats and head band to glory. This trait of mine gets to people too, sometimes I behave so well with them and sometimes I make a mockery of the relationship I share with them.

I am person of extremes. I wish to remain this way. I wish to be myself.

I wish not to be controlled. I wish to oscillate.

I wish to be alone but have someone to be with.

I wish I can sleep. I wish I can be alive and write all through my life.

I wish I knew what I wanted. I wish I knew what u want.

I wish I am not this vague. I wish I can tell everything.

I wish to be me. I wish to be an extremist.

Tuesday 8 January, 2008

//this is a post from my brother's blog , there are not many poems i fall flat for and this is an exception of the rarest kind , loved it . i hope you like it .
His friend wrote a poem and he replied back to it in the language he best knew . over to you //



FRIEND`S POEM
=============

Standing at your door !! Please open my dear !!

Though i stand at your door
i dont knock out of a little fear

It has been a long year
and i have been learning to keep this far

wishes once so demanding like a chilled opened beer
aging into wine getting smoother and smoother

the distace has vanished and my crazy cravings disappear
and i dont miss you that much any more.

for i have created a smiling you out of my little memoir
and my obsessions, in a weird rhythmic way i got over

The eye is not that playful any more
it's become steady and getting deeper.

I have grown a hairy beard and cut short my hair
and many times find you behind the mirror

I still stand like i used to at your door
though turned silent and dont knock out of a little fear.

but i dont know who you would like to meet an old friend or a stranger
and i have turned silent and dont knock out of a little fear.

Peep through the spying lens of the door
If you still find a friend plaese open my dear !!!


MY REPLY
========

The protagonist, behind closed doors...

I stare at the door,
feel the emptiness within;
I see it with a little tear,
making inroads through my skin

It`s been a long year
Why does he not drop by?
I am not sure,
Why doesn`t he knock and say 'hi'?

Wishes, once like a child,
waiting to be born
my cravings have become numb
and my heart is torn

I miss you a lot dear,
I`ll think of you till eternity
Let me revel,
in the pages of serenity

I ain`t myself anymore
how can i be?
thoughts though silent
I am just not me

Peep in my heart and listen to it beat
I am there near the door.
Please don`t fear;
If you still want a friend please knock,my dear

Monday 7 January, 2008

The Times of Delhi  


“Those were the best ten days of my life”

Yes, I say it again and again and I do not get tired of saying it. I’ll keep on saying it till I die because they were the best ten days. there have been times when someone says company makes it happen or rather company matters and that’s what happened to the six of us or rather 15 of us . A group of 15 people went to Delhi so that they could rejoice their final moments with each other. I say final moments because of the fact that we were all in our 3rd and final year of our graduation. It was our desperation to do something which could actually have an impregnable imprint and then even if any one of us tries to distance, the thing will pull us back into a clan.

I say the 6 of us because it was the 6 of us that mattered. The six of us include(L-R) Hussain, Sana,Suha, Junaid, Me and farah. Each of us have tasted shit ( not literally ) , puked , shouted , cried , talked crap about each other , back biting was in . Strangely and for good something(s) happened, it was like the divine power up there wanted us to realize each others worth. There was not once but many a time, when I used to feel shaken by the statements made by the other. We just couldn’t predict what the other had in mind. We could only guess. Guess and make a fool of us was the order of the trip. The only power that we had with us was to talk. And the talking sure made a difference. We guys were total asses personified. It was the girls with their high emotional intelligence that made such a difference. We were 3 guys and 3 girls.So you know what i meant right ? 3 asses and 3 girls !

I do not know if I should be writing stuff down out here because these thoughts of mine and the memories I share are very pure and I do not want to manipulate the innocence of the thoughts and incidences with my language. They’re best preserved in my mind. And I know for a fact that they won’t ever get erased. And I also know very well for a fact that this mind of mine will not allow me to keep them inside for long. There are more memories to come now, life is longer than we expect. I will surely write about it but not here. There are some very dear moments which I share with them and they deserve a special place somewhere else .

I write this post so that it can be a messenger to these 5 people in my life ,whom I deeply love from the very bottom of my heart and wish them to be along with me forever and ever. I really wish Rinky was there along with us. We missed you Rinky.She sits pretty and strikes a pose second from the right .Oh that makes it 6 :D


Sunday 6 January, 2008

Why do i write ?  

I write not entirely to please myself.

I write but to please you.

There have been thoughts and queries and questions and answers and every possible twisted way of thinking why I actually write or blog for that matter. What do I get in return? Aah! Satisfaction? That was a good one, but nah! Satisfaction is just pretence; it’s like a creamy layer over the cake. Yes, I am not denying the fact that I do not get satisfaction by writing but satisfaction is just not what I want.

The reason I write is to let people know that I write. I want to let the world know that even I can write. I want them to know what good I am. There was a time when I used to write shit. Once in class 8th there was a comprehension passage in which the question asked was ‘who’s shoes would you like to step into’, and I gladly with sheer innocence wrote about being in a Bata. I got a blast from my dad then; the scowl hit me straight at my heart. I think it was then I subconsciously vowed that I would show him and the teacher and my school of what I can do. I never really improved and did not really know what I was worth after leaving school – Chirec it was.

The reason I write here is to get comments. I love getting comments on my posts. I makes me feel good about everything. Know what? I love it even if I get one comment , I live in its glory for days and stop writing. I love to read too.Being very frank, I have also been so shrewd in getting comments that, I have actually started posting comments on others posts so that they read the comment and get charmed by it and come and read my post and then comment on it. To please them I even put them up on my ‘blogs I like list’. I know you are bound to despise me but hey who is not a please-gimme-comment-freak, everyone is. Everyone wants to feel wanted, even you. It’s just that I let my intentions out on a blue print for you.

These are the closest reason why I write. they might also include testing myself , expanding myself , following what my brother did , blogging is in , nothing left to do , who studies man ! , impress people, and hey! Look even I write.

I will write entirely to please myself.
I will write but also to please you.

Restlessness  

Restless is my mind, restless are my thoughts and restless are my eyes.

Restlessness is in my genes. Restlessness comes from my dad and restlessness is not bad.

My principal once wrote to me in a parchment on our farewell and she wrote , “The first thing that strikes one about you is your cheerfulness and of course your shifty restless eyes. May you continue to be cheerful all through, and yes restless too, but restless to excel. I have no doubt that you have a bright future but work for it. You were perhaps destined to be a Georgean.” Although she wrote something about each student in the class counting 12. It felt like the 2 in the 12 never existed. It was just me who existed. Felt glad about it.

Restless is my mind, restless are my thoughts and restless are my eyes.

I have so many thoughts wrestling in my mind that sometimes I do not know what to write about. Its like I want to but I cannot. It just does not happen. The same is the case with my life at large. I have so many , many, many, many, (yes I notice the many, do u notice the gravity now ?) things to do. But when I try to do them or when I take them up , it just does not happen.

Restlessness is in my genes. Restlessness comes from my dad and restlessness is not bad.

I have been to Delhi and other connecting areas in ten days and these days were like the best ten days of my life. When one says they were the best days of one's life, one is left in doubt . Unsure of what one is saying and questioning to oneself were those really one's best days ? These statements come from experience not mere presumption. I have ‘lived’ these ten days. I could die for these ten days. I have lived a life I had only dreamt of and now when I come back to Hyderabad I am what I was . Those ten days have infused and induced laziness in me. I do not know what to do. I do not know what I have to do.

I am just hoping that this restless mind of mine could get the cue from this very post of mine. I wish to be perfect , knowing fully well that I cannot be one. I wish to visit Delhi once again and ‘live’ again knowing fully well that that the moment gone will never come back. I wish to sleep, I wish to dream and I wish to wake up so that I could repeat the cycle . I wish to wake up now this very moment. I wish to take myself to a new level.

Like the cycle , I wish to repeat these lines again and again .

Restless is my mind, restless are my thoughts and restless are my eyes.

Restlessness is in my genes. Restlessness comes from my dad and restlessness is not bad.

 
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