"Whatever has happened once, will not happen again..but what has happened twice is bound to happen for the third time..." - Paulo Coelho from "The Alchemist"


The much awaited sequel to 88.


“I’m gonna tie you up now.” said Rebecca.

AR couldn’t believe his luck. 3 hours earlier he was sitting in a bar, nursing a deal gone bad, a cold beer soothing his parched throat and now he was in bed with a smokin’ hot girl, who was more than ready to fulfill all his desires.

“You are doing a good job up there God” he thought, “screw one deal a month and give me something like this any day.”

Rebecca took two off colored handcuffs and cuffed him to the bedpost. She sat top on him and started kissing him. She started rubbing his shoulders and dug her nails into them from time to time. The pain combined with the effect of Rebecca’s hardened nipples touching his chest, started sending waves of pleasure down AR’s spine. His dick was erected to its full length and frantically begged to find solace in her warm pussy. Rebecca started nibbling his ear lobe and AR started to rub his hot rod on her small, tight ass.

“Mmm…someone or rather something is getting desperate” she said in a husky whisper, “But it will still have to wait darling.”

“I’m going down on you.” She whispered into his ears.

Before the signals telling AR’s throat to utter ‘Yeah Baby’ could finish their journey, he felt her soft fingers firmly holding his dick and stroking it.

AR could only manage a grunt of pleasure before Rebecca took it into her mouth. He felt her warm tongue licking it and the pressure of her teeth from time to time. She started nibbling at it and with each stroke the resultant stimulus increased the ecstasy manifold for AR. He felt her hand caressing his balls and as she squeezed them felt his skin tighten further as his thing increased its size.

“You’ve got a monster here” she smiled, “An untamed demon. Just don’t get too excited and finish it before I have even begun”

AR wanted to say something witty, something funny but no words came to him. Maybe seeing such a naked hot girl between his legs or the fact that she was hungrily taking mouthfuls of his major was the explanation of his speechlessness but one thing was certain, words or not, AR was living his fantasy.

In all the times he had never even imagined he could reach this size. The male in him was feeling very proud. He pitied all the girls who had rejected him earlier.“You missed it gals. You missed a hell of a pleasure ride” his mind boomed.

Rebecca’s voice bought him back to the bed.“You will be my number 888.” Her voice suddenly had an edge to it. Her tone was aggressive and as soon as AR saw the hunting knife in her hands he knew he was in a real mess.

“What?? What are you doing babes? I’m not much game for snuff sex sweetheart.” AR’s voice trembled.

Rebecca had a look of a hungry tigress on her face but the gentleness was back in her voice.“I have a fetish for those things darling. I already have a collection of 887 and you have a very special monster with you. But don’t you worry, you’ll be my prime collection or rather your dick will be. ”

AR tried struggled to break open his handcuffs but to no avail.He stared in horror as Rebecca went into a dreamlike state, staring fixatedly at his dick.

She suddenly looked at AR and smiled.

“Item number 888.” She said and with a slash chopped AR’s dick off.

Moving on

Moving on.

Maybe the greatest and most amazing words created in any language. The remedy to all the world's problem, all the heartache, every bottled up emotion that has been taunting you, choking you down and pushing you deeper into the whirlpool of self doubt.

Last three years have been a fucking roller coaster. I've come to terms with the fact that the Heartthrob in me will always remain. Discovered the path to attain nirvana or getting drunk/high, same difference. Figured out that beneath the mask of a great witted clown resides a charming seducer and deeper still a poison boils under. And finally stopped giving a shit about everyone else.
I've forgiven and forgetten about my two ex-gf's cum best friends. Reduced the number of best friends from a mind blowing 7 to a healthy 3. Cut down on cigi's and vodka (Yes...all the girls who have been breathing down my neck for the past year, find other jobs), and started a MBA where they expect us to give a 100% attendance.
Love has become a forgotten emotion, pity and sympathy have been reserved for the deserving, Friendship still rules while anger has started to raise its ugly head more than I would've wished for. Irrationality and eccentricity are the new mantras to live by and patience and understanding are again thrown out of the window.
I'm on a dating and getting laid spree. Flirting with anything that moves prettily. Pool and Snooker are the new passions.Driving Still relaxes me,inspite of the traffic snarls of my dear old city and have evolved from fiction to more intellectual stuff (Porn stories are still my number 2 most read and always will be).

However, moving on doesn't mean that I'm getting off this ride. I have so much fun on it. It just means am not gonna puke anymore after staying too long on it and won't EVER get on it with a full stomach.

Sorry everyone down below.

The Tamil

He silently stepped out of the foliage where many of his comrades lay dead, spread-eagled & free from the vicious circle of the world. The enemy had closed in from all sides and despite the fucked-up morale building speeches by the top brass, the soldier's heart knew that judgement day was just over the hill, either in the form of a few bullets in his body or a blast from a tank.

Just 17 years of age and waiting for death. Fuck.

And then he saw the man responsible for his fate. The Commander running like a terrified lamb, wearing his sweat drenched battle fatigues and surrounded by his ass kissing comrades. Somethings never change, even when mortars are dancing around you ready to shred you to pieces.

He had believed in the cause he was fighting for but wasn't too sure now. Killing others hadn't shook up his conscience but now in the face of certain death he was questioning his earlier decisions. He wanted to piss and ask for a miracle from the big guy above, none of which was going to happen.

Screw the cause, screw the comrades and screw the world a hundred times over. Let me live Oh merciful one. Let me see tomorrows daylight and I promise I will join the Buddhist sect or whatever you command me to- ranted his brain.

As he got to his feet he saw the Commander get into a jeep followed by his cronies. "The great leader of the Tamil Eelam. The head of the most notorious terrorist group of the world. Mr. I'm-the-great-Prabhakaran. Wasn't it bloody awesome that when whole families were being wiped out, the architects own flesh and blood were safe somewhere? That is some fucking power. While we were living in the jungles living on god knows what and satisfying ourselves with god forbid what, his own family was living in the lap of luxury?

And where the fuck was the mighty UN? and dear old Uncle Sam's we-come-to-save-your-ass-but-will-fuck-you-eventually army?? Being screwed by muslims most probably.FUCK. I should've stayed in Tamilnadu."

Just as the jeep started to move the most enlightening idea came to his mind of his short life, except of the time when he had screwed the Major's wife (but she was the one who had seduced him so that doesn't count).
"These mother fuckers want him. With him dead no one is gonna care about me. I will just take off the uniform and mingle in the crowd. The army rations have already given me the much sought after malnutritioned look. I'll live."

With this happy thought he clutched his rocket launcher with a new zeal and fired. As the jeep catapulted on impact he whooped in joy and turned. A burst of fire caught him in the chest and he slumped down.

He'll never know that Prabhakaran died in that jeep. That Sri Lankan army took credit for the kill, displayed him to the world like a dog at the dog show. That LTTE finally lost the battle which it had started 3 decades ago. And the world rejoiced.

His body lay there. Just as dead as he had lived his whole life. Like an unknown.

3 D's & Yours truly

I fumbled with the matches. Should I or shouldn't I? As I contemplated on the answer to the dilemma I poured another shot of vodka in my glass.

I've forsaken my lungs, my liver is on a downward spiral but the agony of my mind & soul find respite only when my senses are not working at their very best.
For someone who preached that one ought to give proper respect to the Vodkas & the Cigarettes of the world and enjoy them instead of using them to douse the fires within, I admit I've taken the low road myself.

NO. I'm not depressed yet. I'm going through a trough in my life but it's just a phase. I know. After 20 years on the top one has to come down once in a while. Call it the Yin-Yang balance if you want to.
I will not vindicate my position but I'll definitely oppose the idea that I'm turning into an addict and to strenghten that I'll just dissect the special bond I share with the 3D's. Drinks, Drugs & the Deathstick.

I glorify the 3-D's in almost all my posts. The misunderstood 'Three Musketeers' of the real world. I do not miss an opportunity to mention at least one of them in all my conversation and literacy pieces. I won't suggest to anyone to drink or smoke but I'll definitely give them hell who'll try to paint my world in their colours of Black & White. I'm not fascinated by the effects of these substance abuses, actually I consider them as mere props to my character. My fascination with them are intermingled with my attraction towards the Byronic Hero.

The tragic hero of Lord Byron, idealised but flawed. Smart, cunning, magnetic, mysterious yet laced with simple human traits of jealousy, hatred, cynicism, arrogance and the self destructive tendencies makes him not only believable but also attainable. I admit being an X-men (specially Gambit) or Flash would be much more valuable (God help the World Bank then) and interesting (peek-a-boo ladies) but the sense of practically compels meto think more on the line of being the attainable Joker instead of the idealised sugarcandy Superman.
I never wanted to be a Mr. Goody-two-shoes asshole infact the dark black or even grey characters always made me feel connected to their torments. Be it the John Abraham of Jism, Irrfan Khan in Rog, Muzammil in Dhokha or Emraan Hashmi in Awarapan I relate to everyone of them at some level. Infact the New age Dev D seemed more like me didn't come as a surprise out of the closet. I'm definately not suicidal but the idea of finding solace in death intrigues me. I don't have a maniacal-sadistic trait in me but 'the ego' drives me. I'm not the guy whom you'll want to end up in a dark alley with me in a raging mood but I'm the guy whom you would like to turn to when you are down and out and everyone is against you.

The fact is that I'm an idealistic SOB in the end is part of the truth too. I still believe in the simple emotions of love & friendship. I believe in the goodness of others. And to those who lack in compassion, care and love, those who've forgotten all the good things that happened to them, all the times someone was there to hold them and support them when they considered themselves alone, I just have hope in my heart for them. That's me. I'm capable of nothing less then eternal hope.

And I'm full of contradictions. Part of the charatcter.

Till next time. PEACE.


I contemplated smoking a cigarette before I start doing my job, but lighting a match would have ruined all the night vision I had and on a night like this I needed all of it so that I could work effectively and efficiently. The road was deserted and I could see no lights in the windows of the house. I put on my mask as I silently crossed over to the other side and reached the wall.

The voice of the Major from my training days invaded my mind as it does every time I start doing my work. Old habits die hard. Besides the recollections kept me cool under pressure and the training was coming in handy in another field where you didn't had to die in the line of duty.
"Very good jokers, go up and come down silently. Remember in combat it can decide whether you'll live or die"

The wall was about 12 feet in height. Piece of cake. 15 seconds at the max.
I was on the other side in 14. Out of practice I guess will do good as my excuse.

I observed the manicured lawn, the gleaming cars in the driveway and the white cat who had been silently observing my every moment since I don't know when. I said a silent prayer that there were no dogs. Dogs can be tricky and cause a problem and I usually have to resort to killing them to save my skin. Even in my line of work I abhor killing animals, Human however are an exception as a species.

It was a two storied house and I observed that all the windows on both the floors were shut except the one on the top floor. I decided that window would be my ticket to the house. It wouldn't had taken me more then 4 minutes to open a window but there is always a chance of tripping a burglar alarm and I was not in a mood to waste more time trying to find it & disconnecting it when such a window of opportunity was open to me, besides a little exercise would always come handy in old age.

I reached the drainpipe and did a double check to ascertain my midnight stroll hasn't caught anyones undue attention. I pulled myself up with an agility and quietness and completed the vertical distance that would have had made my major proud. Once a uniformed figure always in the army.

I reached the open window, reached out, caught the ledge and peered inside.

I saw a man tied and gagged to a chair, struggling fanatically to open his knots, failing miserably with tears streaming down his face.
A man was on the bed on top of another struggling figure while another burly man was standing at one side holding a gleaming hunting knife in one hand and threatening the figure on the bed who was crying silent tears.

I was in a very uncomfortable position so I thought it would be understandable if I take refuge in the room inspite of the scene unfolding inside.
As I came inside everyone grasped and went silent for a moment as would you if a well built, masked figure leapt into your room in the middle of the night.
"Hi there, nice knife you got there" said I in a voice that failed to mask the instant hatred and the feeling of violence building up inside me towards the two men.

The one with the knife recovered before his partner and threw himself at me.

Major's faced piped in.
"No guns, no knives and no bombs. Your hands are the ultimate weapons lads. Use them properly and even you jokers can kill an elephant bare handed"

45 seconds after taking a leap at me, the man with the knife lay on the floor, back broken in three places and head rotated to an impossible angle.
I grabbed the knife that had fascinated me from the moment I had entered the room as the man on the bed recovered from the spectacle that was going horribly wrong, atleast for him. I reached him before his feet had touched the floor and had him spitting blood from his slit throat 10 seconds later.

The pretty thing on the bed looked at me silently, with alarm and fear in her eyes and suddenly dashed to her spouses side crying fanatically as she hugged him.

"This is a robbery guys" I said flashing my best gentlemanly smile at both of them.

I have killed many when I was in the Special commando unit of the army and robbed many after I was dishonourably discharged from it, but never before I had robbed anyone who was smiling amidst the tears, that usually come when one is looting there hard or not so hard earned money and showing them the end of the barrel of a gun, and was actually thankful and glad to have me there.
Till that moment.

7 Days & 18 Hours

7 Days & 18 hours.
7 days of backpacking across India and 18 hours of total sleep I got in between.
7 days of total ecstasy and euphoria & 18 hours of the realisation that a soft bed comes only third to sex and vodka.

I travelled to the City of Nawabs-Lucknow, My home & the capital of this country-New Delhi, the financial capital-Mumbai and in the end the oxford of India-Pune. And in between I squeezed a lil village called Taregaon near Pune.

I travelled in the luxury of Rajdhani's coach, in total comfort in Shatabdi's chair car, travelled in the cramped environment of the Mumbai local, sat idly in the Mumbai-Pune Volvo & watched a mindless flick called 'Partner', travelled in an inter city local, almost got duped by the local Auto wallahs and finally slept through the cacophony of a sleeper class.

I ate Aloo vada, batata vada, idli, biryani, matar paneer for lunch and dinner. I smoked hashish with a big hearted and breasted Austrian lady, drank two bottles of vodka with my elder brother cum best friend and almost missed my 5 fucking 30 A.M local and gave my ice cream to a lil beggar girl.

I met a kayastha family from Delhi settled in Mumbai for the last 25 years who treated me coldly at first cause they thought I was Muslim because of the long kurta I was wearing, eyed their beautiful, young, married but not happy daughter, met a confused railway clerk who had just been offered a job as a manager in some hot shot company and also has gotten a call from Bihar police, met a girl doing her biotech from Bangalore a city of which she was sick of, totally blasted the interview panel I was facing in Pune, met a CRPF officer who went out of the way to make my stay comfortable.

And in the end presented a sight to 50 dumbstruck people who'll never forget it as long as they will live.
I entered the sleeper coach's waiting room attired fully in a two piece suit wearing a crisp shirt, a great tie and shining black shoes. 15 minutes later I departed from the room wearing shabby clothes and nondescript sleepers in feet leaving everyone wide eyed and giggling.

7 days & 18 hours.
I've just tasted life with no wings attached.

Dev ME

What sort of person must Sarat Chandra be to write something like Devdas in the first place?
J K Rowling may be responsible for spreading Pottermania around the globe and J R R Tolkein's Rings trilogy might have won the most Oscars in the history of academy awards but I guess there is still to come a piece of fiction that had inspired 10 different film versions of it.

I saw Anurag Kashyap's version of Devdas yesterday with my own 'Paro' & the similarities between me and the protagonist were striking. The self destructive streak, the helplessness of love, the pendulum swinging between self pity & despair, the carelessness about his own self, the unnecessary indulgence in cigarettes, hashish and ganja, the inevitable search for happiness and love, my own Paro whom I can not hurt, my Chanda whom I had to see after watching this flick, the two Chunnilal's of my own life giving me a shoulder to rely on from time to time, the dark void sucking in my sanity every night and last but the most important similarity- the worshiping of the brand name 'Smirnoff', I could relate everything with myself.

The novel can be considered as the convergence of the tragic Hamlet and the classic Romeo & Juliet but is in fact bigger then both of them. Every human has an evident dark, uncaring & self destructive side to himself and the way it has been shown in the novel as well as the films, specially in Dev D, will make look both Kafka and Edgar Allen poe as amateurs.

The whole kaleidoscope of emotions running through the reels, the bizarre colours splashed across the canvas, the first shot of our protagonist making a joint, the open sexuality of Paro and the coming of age of Chanda, every second of the next 3 hours is engrossing. Unless until you are the happiest soul in this world you won't relate an iota to it but for the rest of the majority there will be at least one moment in there where you would sit up and take notice.
The leads are naturals and actually brilliant in their portrayals. Never once will you will be reminded of Abhay Deol from his earlier works he is totally convincing as the new age Devdas, Mahi Gill as the bindass punjabi lass who transforms into a mature lady is completely believable, Kalki as Chanda the teen-lady prostitute struggling with her own ghosts has that innocence and vulnerability on her face that makes you want to reach out to her and in the end Dibyendu as the practical Chunnilal who makes you wish for a resourceful tout like him in your own life's script.

The music is brilliantly awesome but am sure will sound just like a raucous cacophony to most purists. It's a healthy blend of Rock, Lounge and a little folk thrown in for the extra flavour. As with the whole film nothing here is formula driven and the songs just take the movie forward and disclose the turmoils of the leads. The rock version of Emotional Atyachaar, The peppy Duniya number, soulful Nayan Tarse and Aankh Michonni are THE tracks to listen in this quarter of the year.
The cinematography, camerawork, lighting and all other technical details are done quite well. My only complaint is the second half that could've been a little more sleek if edited properly.
As all the columnists in the newspapers are rejoicing this is a coming of age film for Indian cinema but as a warning watch out with whom you are going out with. Your family might want to get out of the hall in the first ten minutes (and maybe later individually book the next show for themselves alone).
Saratchandra considered Devdas to be his worst book but it became his most celebrated work. I guess this proves the point that we people are addicted to self pity and love to brood over our sorrows.
Last point. This is the best version of Devdas to come out. Dileep Kumar's version is the second best.

The Proposal

Ritika stepped on the escalator and I followed her, two steps behind.
“Lunch was great wasn’t it? I loved that…”

I had known her for the past four months but felt as if she had been a part of my life since forever. We had hitted it off during our lunch hours, become quite close between all those coffee breaks and shared laughter amid our cigarette smoking.

I had decided to ask her to marry me two weeks back. Since we were both orphans I was spared the task of ‘Meeting the Parents’ and just had to walk into a jewellery store and spend more than half of my savings to buy that perfect diamond ring for her. I also didn’t have to ask my parents whether they can think of Ritika as their daughter-in-law, infact they would’ve had disapproved of every girl I would’ve had wished to marry.

“Wait till you meet them.You are gonna love them…”

I kept listening to her sweet voice, without heeding to the words and kept playing with the ring in my pocket. Should I ask her to marry me? Should I beg? Or will threatening her do the trick?

We reached the top and I saw two young men smiling back. My heart shrank as I saw the joy on Ritika's face as she saw them.

“This is Abhinav my boyfriend and this is his brother Avinash…guys this is Soumya, my colleague and my bestest friend”

I tried to keep despair off my face as my whole world came crashing down on me. My shattered dreams pained my eyes and brought tears to them, yet I controlled them somehow. The ring fell from my pocket as I took out my hand from my pocket to take Avinash's outstretched hand. As I knelt down to pick it up, Abhinav went down on his knees besides me and said “Will you marry me Ritika?”
This was to be my entry for the Ascension contest at 'The Clarity of Night' but alas the word count became its enemy and by the time I could resend it the contest had closed. Yet I wanted to know what people thought about it so here it is at your mercy. Till next time. Adios.

I Saw Her

I changed the metro at Kashmere gate for Rithala. I had to be in another part of Delhi and taking the Metro was the only economical & practical option available to me.

She entered the car with a friend of hers and from that moment onwards, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her, atleast for the next 20 minutes. She was not exactly beautiful, infact she was far from the conventional sense of beauty, yet there was something about her which I can’t fathom, and guess never will be able to, that held my attention. She was wearing a cherry-red colour jacket over a creamish sweatshirt and faded stone washed blue denims. She was more on the wheatish side with shoulder length dark brown hair styled unevenly which gave her a wind swept look. She had no curves, no long legs and no breasts to speak of but at that moment was easily the most desirable girl in the world for me. She was carrying an overflowing bag, most probably filled with books to the limit and was from Gargi College, since she was wearing the college’s sweatshirt and I could read 'GARGI' written over to the left side of her sweatshirt. She had an unsmiling face with slight bags under her eyes and looked pretty tired, infact she looked relieved to be in the metro and having a chance to relax for a while. She was leaning against the door and like a puppy I was staring at her, hoping that I would get an opportunity to start a conversation with her.

She was totally oblivious of her surroundings and didn’t even notice any of her fellow companions, especially one of them who was precipitating despite of the morning chill. She either kept her eyes fixed outside of the window beside me or decided to give them a rest from time to time.
She had a relaxed appearance and a calm aura surrounded her. She looked as if she wasn’t in any hurry to reach anywhere and gave the impression of a smart, intelligent and sensible person. She had the quality of a confident and in control kind of a person which was well evident from her body language.

She was someone maybe with whom I would’ve had loved to share a coffee, talk, hold a conversation, listen to her views and try to get to know her a little better. She gave me the impression that maybe this was the kind of girl I would like to share my life with, share all my happy moments and tell her all my worries. She was the kind of girl I would’ve had liked to wake up every morning, snuggle to, bring a smile to her face, make her childish fantasies true and listen ‘I Miss You’ from.

With a jolt the metro stopped at Rithala and we both got out. I jumped the stairs two at a time and rushed towards an auto, without even glancing back at her and pushed her out of mind as soon as the auto started moving. For me it was over, a chance meeting, a time we will share but of whom she’ll remain unaware and I’ll treasure. For me she was lost in the land of the human mass forever.

But fate had other plans.

I rushed back to the station 3 hours later to reach CP as soon as possible to meet my girl.
After a long wait I finally got a ticket and entered the overflowing coach of the Metro. And there she was, in the crowd, right in front of me sitting serenely. But this time I didn’t feel any of the previous emotions that had rushed through me. I hardly noticed her and kept glancing at my watch, calculating at what time I would be able to reach CP and for how long my girl would’ve been waiting.

Both of us again departed at the Kashmere gate station and as before I bolted towards the exit without a second thought in my mind.

This time we had parted ways at last.

Or have we???

A Time called 'NIGHT'

The sun shines brightly for a change as I sit down in front of the family’s common laptop.

It is a glorious day outside with a slight chilly breeze reminding that it is still the start of January & officially, still winter in the Indian plains. For some this day might signify happiness and joy & maybe some pessimists might consider it as the last day of light before the bleak future sets in, but nevertheless no one can deny that this is a magnificent winter morning.

But alas the philosopher in me is not easily side tracked by such playfulness of nature. In my pursuit of materialistic gains & bodily pleasures, I don’t usually stop to marvel at nature’s artistic talent. I just take in the wonderful surroundings and move on to do whatever I was doing.

Considering the surroundings and my elated state of mind, one might assume that I might be dwelling on something which is bright and maybe holds some promise for the future. Some line of thought which deals with the lighter side of one’s self or atleast won’t have something dark associated with. But as usual my thoughts are directed in a different way altogether, which by the way is duly affected by this bright sunlit day.

The harsh reality, which I’m quite sure has revealed to me only due to this burning sun, struck me across my face that all my creative musings and my spiritual awakenings happen during the late hours of night. My emotional threshold point reaches to its peak only during these dark hours. I fully feel alive at that time only. All my doubts and problems get solved during these ungodly hours. I’m free to think and devise ways to live life on my terms. Make fallback plans for some future endeavor at 2 in the morning. My craving for something non-veg, a little drink, smoking everything starts when the dawn of the devil is happening (Sex is an obvious exception, every guy is and rightly so, ought to be ready for it 24 hours a day, 365 days a year). It is as if my life actually awakens during the night.

So what is my fascination with Night?? Actually what is with everyone’s attraction with Night?? You will always hear about the nightlife of a city, will always be judged by at what time you sleep (even when you are studying late into the night instead of partying for a change), all the greatest of personalities (and I include Dracula, Frankenstein, Werewolves, Paris Hilton to name a few) roam in the streets only during ‘when darkness falls’. Mother’s fret over their children because everytime they wake up during the night they finds them well awake. Father’s still play Mt. Vesuvius because their sons are taking the prescribed 5 hours of sleep at 11 in the morning.

My mother always told me I was a nishachar (demon in devanagri). I was a child of the night who used to scream his head off from the window when my neighbors, bless them, were trying to go to bed. I used to be full of unspent energy which surfaced during the night and which I used well to cause mayhem around the house. I was the only child who used to keep wide awake whenever a family gathering was happening and all the adults were getting nostalgic about their childhood. I still love to drive away in the dead of night on the streets of Delhi, still remember the nights when I used to meet my ex-girlfriend under her apartment.
I guess it has to do something with the fact that we spend all our day living for everyone else and it is only during the night that we can unleash the rebel within, hoping that our dark side will be lost in this darkness or maybe it has to do something with the reveal-hide quality of the night which invites us to shed our inhibitions or maybe I’m overcomplicating a simple way of life & it has nothing to do with anything. Whatever might be the actual reason this is for a fact that Night is a special time of everyone’s life, one time or another, irrespective whether it’s a blue full moon night, a half moon yellowish night, or a night of no moon and total darkness, the pull of the cities lights or the charm of the quietness of the dead paths, of both metros or villages, is something no amount of sun can match. For me a dark cloudy day is always much better then a sunny morning.

With time my parents finally understood the fact that I will always have my life in the night but alas they still haven’t come to terms with it. They don’t stop me from partying late into the night but my mom still calls me at 11 to remind me to come back home, with the faint sense of unmistakable hope in her voice that she’ll hear that I’m already on my way. My dear old Dad still sleeps in fits until I return back from my midnight strolls. As for me, I still hope to drink the elixir of night every night and get high.

oNE WiLD NighT

Pre-Script: I was drunk as I had originally written this...drunk as in totally wasted...with no sense of time, direction, stairs, person, food or something else for that matter. There might be some mistakes in there but even as I re-edit it am not gonna rectify them...originality matters. And besides what fun it would be if I didn't have a drunk, insanic post in my blog???

31st December 2008/ 1st January 2009

Finally my craving to get drunk and my wish to have a hangover are fulfilled. It's 7 in the fucking morning, 1st January 2009 and pretty chilly. The fog is quite thick right now and I have just driven 20 miles in half conscious state with two of my buddies (actually one is drunk and was asleep the whole time...still is {& remained so late till the afternoon}) acting as my eyes and mind (I couldn't see a bloody thick chain cordoning off the entry of one of the roads and almost drove through ot) with the sounds of Bon Jovi and Linkin Park blaring through the speakers to keep me awake and with prayers in our hearts for the dearth of the traffic cops,to finally have a cup of coffee in the comforts of my own home.

The plan was simple. My home was supposed to be the venue (since my parents are conveniently out of town) and we were supposed to have a house party and get drunk on vodka, GUYS ONLY!! But all plans have a habit to go awry and what good is a man who can't derive the best out of a worst situation. 'We' were just four guys, GK..the man...my blood brother...the closest friend I have. Meena...a school buddy..budding script writer and director. Pawan..the boyfriend of my ex-'s sister..my big bro cum best friend. & finally, yours truly... the brain behind the whole idea...the man with the thousand nicknames and thousand plus one smiles.
The first setback happened in the morning when I ran out of cash. By the time I got to the Bank it was closed and the only thing I could do was to call GK and ask him to get the moolaah. GK had problems of his own by the way. His brother has wiped off his account of all the cash and had left him broke. Still he managed to scrape through somehow.
The second pitfall happened late in the evening when three of us were waiting for Pawan to reach my place and controlling ourselves not to start drinking the pure Smirnoff right away. That's when he called to say that he can't make it cause some dumb asshole of a guy had punctured both the tires of his bike. Instead of loosing hope and playing into the hands of despair, I took command & decided to move the party to Pawan's house. With no cash left in any of our combined pockets and minimum of petrol in the car, I drove the 20 miles to his place in my trusty car with fuckingly best fuel efficiency.

The pain in my head is searing, eyes blood shot and puffy from lack of sleep and the brain. an old has been sword, jaded and rusted. GK is snoring away to glory while Meena is desperately trying to sleep. I have made eggs for myself for this early morning breakfast and am still reading the message my ex- sent me after I had talked and somewhat screamed at her after she had pissed me off.

We planned to go bowling before drinking but here despair outplayed us. The malls were closing just as we reached there, which was surprising cause we had thought this was New Year's Eve and at least malls will be open at least till 12. With slightly dashed hopes but still with some spirit we went back home to our bottles of vodka and the now ice cold chicken and play out the original plan.
Meena broke the seals and I did the honours of pouring out the pegs for everyone. And then Pawan's gf called up and he went out of the room to talk to her. We like good old fashioned guys threw obscenities at him for walking out on us, kept drinking while litting up cigarettes after cigarettes and kept the mood swinging. We recalled our school days and welcomed nostalgia to the group, I proved to GK that he ain't in love, prodded Meena that his love calls me her sweetheart and flirts like anything, I boasted that her cute lil 11th class sister thought I had a sexy voice and then 'she' called.

I had read somewhere that the best cure of a hangover is sprite and tomatoes ( had read on Sia's blog) and something else to do with curd. But with lack of luck I'm out of tomatoes, sprite, curd. lemon, bananas, vegetables, or any kind of food for that matter. I roam around the house to find something to do instead of sleeping, inspite of the weariness and the tiredness am not ready to give rest to my eyes, atleast not yet. My mind keeps acting like a pendulum, swinging this way and that, restless, wishing for something to think about but all thoughts pouring out of mind like water from a hand, unable to concentrate and form a coherent thought.

I had been waiting for my girl to call me and actually didn't expect that my ex- will wish to talk to me when the clock will chime 12. We started talking and wished each other (actually I did, she ain't too keen on the concept of special days...New Years, B'days, Anniversaries etc etc.) and then my special girl called. I hung up and began my struggle with the jammed networks to listen to her sweet voice again. After a struggle of half -an-hour I was finally able to bore through the vodafone-airtel networks and talk to her.

I returned to my medicine after having a brief chat and then my ex- called up again. I listened to her audacious talk, spoke some angry words and put the phone down. And I passed out after 12 minutes. I found out in the morning that my cell had run out of balance, was low on battery and by some godforsaken miracle it was blocked!!!

Still later I found out how I had blabbered to Pawan that what a great and nice guy he really is and am gonna tell his gf not to trouble him much.

The world outside is blue, devoid of the rays of the sun yet there is nothing sad or depressing about the concrete landscape. It is the New Year's first day and the scene gives me the feeling of peace and tranquility. It gives me the sense of hopefulness that everything good will happen for everyone of us.

I messaged my ex- apologising for my behaviour the night before. And

I'm still to message everyone who wished me throughout the last two days (yup people started from 30th).

And now I gotta sleep cause I can't keep my eyes open.



& we ate a half cooked, ice cold chicken for dinner.

Yours Truly.

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Like a true gemini i've got a multifaceted personality. can't write about each of them so one will have to discover through the layers