In Exchange of the Soul

Richard came out of the hole and saw the sun hanging above the remains of the world. The buildings stood as silent witnesses to the death and destruction, ready to scream obscenities at the human kind for the misfortune they had bought upon the planet. The lack of any wind whispered accusations in Richard’s ears. He inhaled deeply the dust rich air and instantly started coughing. Each day he did the same thing, as a ritual, with the hope that one day his lungs would be blessed to breathe in air, a little cleaner, a little calmer, a little purer. And each day his wish was rejected.

A little girl’s head popped up from the hole from which Richard had crawled up. As she saw the yellow light spread across the ruins of the once famous skyline, a gasp escaped her lips. Sunlight had been a rarity since the time the massive dust storms had enveloped the earth. In fact, little Suzie actually couldn’t recall the last time she had seen natural light. The undergrounds were all lighted by kerosene lamps which she hated because of the smell and the fumes that they filled the tunnels up with when ignited.

Richard looked at Suzie and smiled at the fascinated expression which only a child can display. He took her hand and led her towards the road which led them deeper into the heart of once proud city.

‘Come now sweetie,’ he said to her, ‘Let’s find something to eat before it gets dark.’

He took her hand and started to move across the heaps of rubble, laid across the wasteland like the silent victims of Pompeii. Suzie kept looking at the fallen buildings and the wilted trees in amazement. Everything her sight touched was a proof of the devastation, but she rarely had a chance to ever come out from the den and today also only the desperation to get some rations and provisions had forced them to come up.

Richard kept his eyes focused on the store which was looming into view from behind the mountain of debris, as they climbed it. He took Suzie in his arms to speed up their ascent. He reached the top of the heap and could finally make out the broken signage on the store welcoming its visitors.

‘W- A- L- L- M- A-’ Suzie started to read it aloud

‘Shhh baby,’ Richard purred.

There was a small field separating them and the canned food inside the store.He put Suzie down and took a deep breath. ‘Time of reckoning.’ his brain commented.

‘You see that pole dear?’ Richard asked Suzie, pointing at the remains of a streetlight standing on the far right of the field.

‘Yes.’ Suzie nodded.

‘When I reach there, you go running toward the middle of the field, alright? Make as much noise you want. Ok princess?’

Suzie nodded again.

-----

Richard carefully crawled towards the streetlight on all fours. He stood up and looked back at Suzie. She was still standing atop the hill of rubbish, her face already pink from the heat. A calm determined look was on her face as her eyes met Richard’s.

‘She knows.’ Richard’s mind chided him.

Richard felt a ball of lead falling deep into his stomach and his heart did a double flip in his ribcage, yet his brain didn’t let go of the command over his body. Richard felt an invisible force making him wave to Suzie, prodding her to move forward.

With a look mature beyond her young years, Suzie started to come down from the top of the rubble. Richard’s mind forced him to come out of the trance like state and move towards the depleted store.

Out of the blue, Suzie’s voice filled the amber sky. ‘Doggy.’

Richard stopped in his tracks and looked back. Suzy was standing at the foot of the rubble hill, looking back at him with a pleased expression, all the time pointing towards the gates of the store.

At the doors of the store stood a huge dog, almost the size of a little bear. It had been completely disowned by its fur except for some small, shiny patches of hair left here and there, as if to give testimony to what a fine animal it had been once. Half of its face had no skin or muscle, melted away from the massive heat of he sun’s radiation. Its white raw skull protruded from what was left of the face and a pool of saliva was forming at its feet while it looked at the strange figure in white pointing towards it.

Slowly the beast started to move towards Suzie, the first vibrations of a killer growl forming at the back of its throat. As the distance between them decreased, the speed and the fury of the beast increased.

Suzie sensed that something was wrong as the monstrous figure she had been marveling at a little while ago, came charging towards her. She looked back at her Uncle Richard for help, but he was already making his way towards the now empty door of the store.

Once Upon a Time

The logs crackled to life as the fire mustered enough strength to break the barrier of the ignition point of the wood. The black darkness of the night bowed down as the flames started to exert their supremacy and gave them a little space from its inky domain as a peace offering.

A smile of content came to Kumar’s face for his efforts as he wiped his brow with a handkerchief. Even in these times of anarchy and destruction he made a point to hang on to the last threads of civilization. Cooked food, Hygiene, No eating by hand were some of the few rules he had been enforcing to be followed.

‘Bye Bye Cold.’ clapped little Jimmy and threw in some twigs and pieces of plastic in the blaze. The bonfire instantly started to produce foul smelling black smoke, as the plastic started to curl from the heat.

‘That is enough Jim.’ Rita scolded him and forcefully made him sit in her lap.

Jimmy tried to wriggle free but a 5 year old was no match for the strength of the 13 year old girl.

‘Listen to her Jimmy.’ Kumar chuckled, ‘or you know both of us would get into trouble.’

A deep hue of red started to spread across Rita’s face. Sure, she had scolded Uncle Kumar from time to time, but it was for his own good, she always concluded. Sometimes he got a bit carried away in his enthusiasm, like the time he had jumped in the over flowing river because Jimmy wanted to fish for dinner.

‘Uncle Kumar, story.’ Jimmy chirped as he settled smugly into Rita’s lap.

‘Okay.’ Kumar said. ‘Now I know I have really spoilt you.’ he teased them.

Suddenly, the lights dancing in the sky caught Kumar’s eye. Just as they had appeared, they vanished but with them they swept off the moment of peace from Kumar’s mind.

‘Thank God the kids didn’t see them.’ the thought flashed in his mind.

‘Uncle Kumar. STORY.’ Jimmy shrieked.

‘All right, All right.’ Kumar tried to calm his quavering voice.

‘Once upon a time in a land not too far away, there lived a King. He was a great king. Compassionate, Brave, Just and Loved by all. But he had a vice. A very large problem. His anger.’

‘He had a raring temper and used to get angry at the most trivial of matters. Once he burnt all the apple orchards in his kingdom because one of the apples he ate hurt his gums. His name was Aramis.’ Jimmy gasped, apples were his favorite.

Kumar continued as if in a trance. ‘Aramis had a huge kingdom. It sprawled from the edge of the frozen Blue Mountains in the north to the bank of the Black Sea to the south, from the golden wheat farms in the east to the red desert in the west. His stories of might and strength were the first defensive walls against any outside invaders. Kings from all around were so scared of him that they had all married their daughters to him in order to maintain good relations. People from all around were in awe of him and respected him, except for at one place.’

‘On the other side of the black sea there was another kingdom. A beautiful land, of rivers and trees, of exotic animals and birds, of people who in spite being a little violent in nature had a little goodness in them. They didn’t have good boats which would allow them to cross the black sea, so had no idea that there was also someone across the sea.’

‘The crown prince of the Kingdom was Jadey. He was a little reckless and adventurous in nature, always climbing the Blue Mountains in the North or taming the Wild Rats of the red desert. One day he decided that he would go and see what is on the other side of the Black Sea. As was expected, Aramis forbid him to sail, but being as stubborn as his father, Jadey didn’t listen.’

‘That night Jadey set sail all alone. He traveled for 4 nights and still didn’t see signs of the land. On the fifth night there was a bad storm in the sea. Jadey tried and tried but just couldn’t control his boat. It kept on going in whatever direction the sea wanted it to go. Jadey just kept holding onto the main sail of the boat for his life. Finally the storm subsided and his boat touched land. He got down and marveled at the flora and fauna of the land. He kept on roaming on the land and saw strange creatures. He was just tasting some yellow colored fruit and looking at a cow in amazement when suddenly the natives saw him. The natives looked amazed at the appearance of Jadey. They hadn’t ever seen a person like them. They took him down and took him to their King.’

‘Meanwhile, Aramis on finding out that Jadey was missing got very worried. He knew that he must’ve gone to the Black sea. He ordered his whole navy to go out and look for him.’

‘Months went past and so did years but there was no clue of Jadey. Aramis kept on getting more and more worried. Finally one day, one of the scouts reported that they have found the remains of Jadey’s boat on some strange land across the sea.’

Kumar broke from his trance and saw that the kids had fallen asleep. He took a tattered quilt and covered them up with it. He slowly got up and moved towards the edge of the cliff. For miles and miles he could see the wreckage of his once majestic city. Fires which hadn’t stopped burning for the last 25 years still ravaged the whole world and mutated animals now roamed the streets once bustling with humanity. Kumar saw what remained of India Gate still standing, bathed by the light of the Spacecraft hovering above it.

‘If only the Americans knew the alien they had captured was the Prince of that Planet.’ Kumar thought sadly. ‘None of this would’ve had happened. We could’ve avoided all the death and destruction. There would’ve had been no need for them to invade us’. His eyes welled up as the images of the horrific past crashed down onto his soul. ‘If only that son-of-a-bitch would’ve stayed in his own forsaken world and not come to earth.’

He turned his back to the destroyed world and threw some twigs in the weakening fire.

Targets

Jack's mind dictated him to drink the glass of water placed in front of him, but the fear in his heart countered this command and told him to sit still instead. Beads of precipitation formed on his forehead as he looked across the table.

A seductive smile spread across her face as she gazed at the frightened image sitting in front of her. She uncrossed her shapely legs and sighed. In another setting someone might have misunderstood that sound as a sign of pleasure, but Jack knew that there was nothing but contempt in store for him.

Her mini skirt and the skimpy halter top didn't left much for the imagination while her jet black hair enveloped her pale oval face, but it were the coal black eyes that captured all of Jack's attention. He could actually feel the air getting colder as the seconds ticked past and the chill entering through every pore of his body as she kept boring him with those eyes of hers.

'How have you been doing Jack?' she purred.

'Good.' Whatever confidence Jack had been trying to muster up evaporated in an instant.

'Let me get straight to the point Jack. How many clients do you have in a month?'

'23.' He mumbled.

'Only Regulars? or Including New clients?' she said in her best honey coated voice.

'Regulars.'

'And New clients? What about them?'

'On an average, I manage to hook 4 or 5 new clients in a month.' Jack could hear some sense of confidence being restored in his voice.

'And what is the conversion rate?'

'Mostly 3 of them become regulars.' Yes. The confidence was back. Nothing bad could happen to him. He was the star.

'And when was the last time you had a new client Mr. Jack?'

Jack felt as if he had just been punched in the stomach.

He fumbled with the words to form a coherent answer but she blew him off with the rest of her words.

'Each month we give every peddler $20,000 worth of cocaine to give out for free. To hook up more users, to give the rich brats something new to flaunt about and all of this only to give opportunities to our distribution agents to grow, to prosper, to become rich. This is our way of saying thank you Mr. Jack. OURS. FOR YOU'

The last words cut through the air and entered Jack's heart.

'And you Mr. Jack haven't brought a new client since the last 5 months. 5 FUCKING MONTHS. But still you avail that free coke from us.'

As her voice increased decibel by decibel with every word she spoke, Jack felt a dread seeping into his body.

'$100,000 down the drain. And your business from those 23 regular clients you are so gleefully mentioning hasn't been more then $53,000. Not monthly but collectively for 5 months.' she spat out at him.

'Recession hit all of them hard. They wanted more to cope with the frustrations and I didn't want them to loose them to cheaper substitutes that is why I kept the supply at a lesser rate,' Even to Jack this sounded lame. 'Also all those other peddlers. They keep stealing my clients. Despite the clear division of territories they...'

His eyes met hers and he stopped in mid sentence. There was a legend in the business that her eyes were the doorways of hell. One could actually see the bowels of the devil's lair through them. Jack could have swore that it was all true.

'You see Jack. It might happen once, twice or even three times if your luck is out to screw you hard but for 5 months?? It only tells me either everyone has turned to God for peace in your neighborhood or you are doing a shitty job.'

A silence engulfed the room.

'You would agree Jack you have just become bad for business. You are fired.' she said calmly.

Jack expected a sledgehammer to shatter his ribs, he expected the air out of his lungs to choke out. Strangely, none of that happened. Sure, he had fallen to a more lower level in the hierarchy of things but wasn't his mom always used to say he was a man of spirit?

'That is my Jackie boy,' he could picture her saying, 'always bounces back when his opponent's back has turned.'

'Pimping isn't a bad option,' he thought,' or I can always become a paddler for that fat Indian.'

His chains of thoughts were broken by a click.

He saw a Beretta sitting prettily in her manicured hands.

She threw her seductive smile back at him and said, 'Sadly for you no one leaves the business alive.'

The last thing his mind told him was,'I told you to drink that glass of water.'

Angels & Needles

The buzzing of the clock tore through the night's silence and with that I finally accepted failure. My lungs were aching for air and I was drenched in sweat. After more then 7 hours of tossing and turning on the bed I finally quit. When you are dead tired the elixir of sleep comes really slowly. Add to that my present condition and you have an extreme case of insomnia in your hands.

'Some nights would be difficult. Really painful.'

I sat up and tried to steady my spinning head. My mouth felt dry & rough as a sandpaper. I gulped down some shallow breaths and tried rising to my shaking knees. Another failure added to the story of my life. I tried to scream, to curse, to cry the least but my physical exhaustion forced my hands down yet again. The red digits of the clock at my bedside showed it was 3 A.M, but it could've been the middle of a sunny day or a drizzle in the early hours of the evening for all I cared. I just craved for one thing. The only thing that had the power to transform my dingy little apartment into the grounds of heaven.

'Take control my friend. It would tempt you in so many ways. TAKE CONTROL'

I got up from the bed and moved towards the window. As I opened it, the stench of the filth and the humidity of the city hit me like a wall of bricks. My blood-shot eyes had that dazed look in them as I tried to peer through the darkness. The cityline was adorned with bedazzling lights but all I could see was the looming darkness in front of me.

"You will see things you would like to see. Reality becomes a dream and hallucinations the truth."

Another shot of pain rammed down my throat. I fell to my knees as my insides caught fire. I could actually feel by heart getting ready to burst out of my ribcage and my entrails twisting into a new shape. I could feel my skin melting away and the my bones turning to dust. A grasshopper's chirp halfway across the world could reach my ears and I felt the rush of the warm blood rushing towards my head. Bile and vomit rose towards my throat with a blood-curling scream intermingled with the shit. And just as it had started it passed.

"You have the strength to say No."

For a long time I stayed on the floor, infact I lost all sense of time. Only the floor's coldness and my own shaking persona were my companions. I tried to focus on the watch but everything around me was just a blur. Finally I started the crawl toward my desk. Every move I made sent down waves of pain through my body, but I've learnt to live with pain.
It pains when your heart gets broken.
It pains when you see someone else getting everything you deserve.
It pains when you loose the goal you had set out to achieve.
It pains to see the disappointment in the eyes of your loved ones.
It pains each time you insert the needle in your veins.

"Addiction is easy, recovery is not. Some days would just be like straight out of hell. You should throw away all the drugs as your first step."

I somehow managed to plant myself in the seat. I opened the drawer and took out the bottle and a hypodermic needle. I filled it with the clear liquid and rolled up my sleeves. For a second I forgot everything as I saw the numerous puncture wounds on my forearm. Each one of those tiny holes told of a larger story behind them. I closed my eyes and inserted the needle in my vein.

"Call me anytime you want."

My eyes fell on my cell. If only she wasn't 'out of coverage area'. If only I was able to talk to her, nothing would've come this far. My eyes welled up with tears as I realized that due to my weakness, I was loosing the battle we had been fighting for two months.
I still hadn't inserted the plunger, yet.

"You are not alone. I'm not only your counselor, I'm your friend."

The 'ping' brought me back to my own personal hell. I searched for the source and saw my computer was still on. I had forgotten to sign myself out of Gtalk also. It was a message. From MH. 'Hi'.
She was one of my classmates from college. Smart. Beautiful. Elegant. Intelligent. Considerate. And we had hardly ever talked to each other.
We were just acquaintances during all those years. Our conversations were limited to the customary Hellos and Goodbyes. After so many years of disconnect from everyone, her perfunctory greeting seemed like a ghost of the past. The bright, happy, joyous past. The past that killed me each day, little by little. I almost made up my mind to switch off my computer when she again wrote.
'I'm so glad you are online. Will you please talk to me?? I was just going to kill myself.'

"Don't worry friend. Everyone is going through this life, looking for their angels. You will find yours too."

I stared at the screen. At my apartment. At the drug filled needle still sticking into my arm. At the words flashing across the monitor. At the broken pieces of my life.
I took a deep breath to calm my shaking hands and tried to ease out the pain sledgehammering my mind. I took out the needle from my arm and threw it out of the open window. Suddenly, I could make out the lights of the city and the faint glow of rising sun in the backdrop.

"Talking to someone helps. It gives you strength. The will to fight, to survive. Share your pain my friend."

'What happened MH?', I typed back.


-----

Skillet were right. Angels show up in the strangest of places.

Like mine did a week back, at 3 A.M in the night !!! and when I was least expecting it. This one is for ya. :P
AND no, I wasn't doing drugs AND NO she wasn't thinking of killing herself (Amen).. tats why the online's friend's initials are in the reverse.. :D you'll get it 'HM'.

It is also for one of my philosophies... actually Raj Kapoor's or rather Shailendra's to be exact... "Kisi ki muskurahaton pe ho nisar...Kisi ka dard mil sake to le udhaar..."

If you want to forget your own pain, be compassionate towards others problem, try to listen to them if not solve them. It works. Trust me. ;)
PEACE till the next.

Downloading Complete- 78%

Thanks to the leapfrogging progress we have made in 'genetic research', babies can be designed today. A couple can decide on whether their child should look more like the 'handsome father' or the 'gorgeous mother' (sense the sarcasm guys and gals. take a reality check. No you do not look like George Clooney and give Jessica Alba sleepless nights. Only your mother thinks you do. Today is Mother's day right??? LOVE YA MAA. You ROCK !!!). Manipulate some genes here, some alleles there, change a code here and attach another nucleobase there (I was a Bio topper at school, I KNOW WHAT AM TALKING ABOUT :D) and presto, you have the perfect baby.

And what if we go one step further? What if their are CDs to make your own babies. Imagine if a window like Bit-torrent opens up on your PC, just put in what you want, chuck out what you don't, have sex (I hope that is NEVER taken away by technology) take the personality zip file, embed and voila the perfect baby comes out.

Imagining it? Good. Now stop. Read further to know what I imagined. :D
maybe will start a mini-series on this too :D


********

"That is not how we used to do it" said Grandma Jo, short for Jyotika.

Jessica sighed and looked towards Karan for some support.
Karan looked up from his newspaper and faced the two women. He had the bewildered look on his face that most men do, when they have to mediate between their wife and mothers. God help me, he thought as the first of his words started pouring out of his mouth.

"Yes mom, I know that wasn't the way you used to do it but well times have changed. It is 2073 for god's sakes. It is the technological leap of..."

"Technology-Snuffology... The best way to make babies is by good old fashioned sex and not your modern hocus-pocus."

Jessica turned a color of scarlet, by the sudden attack of shyness or because of her simmering anger, we would never know. She knew Karan had already lost the battle, now it was up to her to make her mother-in-law see the obvious point.

"Mom" she said, "Remember how you always wanted Karan to be a little more fair?".

Jyotika nodded dumbly.

"This thing does just that. We are not making the baby but just designing it. See here this is the CD which have the programs for physical appearance eye color, hair color, skin tone etc etc. While this CD has all the behavioral traits which we we can have in our baby." Jessica said while dropping a multi colored CD box in Jyotika's lap. 'Over 10,000 personalities to choose from' screamed the banner on the box.

Jyotika's eyes bulged out in amazement as she read all that that could've been done with only two CDs and the head gear (sold with the pack).

"You mean to say," her eyes welled up," this baby can have Karan's father's eyes?"

A triumphant smile came across Jessica's face while a calmness descended over Karan's mind.
"Yes Mom." Jessica replied back. "Here look I'll show you what more we can do with it."

12 year old Rishi, the elder son of Jessica and Karan smiled sweetly back at his family, as he smacked the cat with his bat but like always no one noticed him.


-----


The silence of the night enveloped the whole household. The computer screen was the only thing which shed some light in the room. 'Downloading Behavior' kept flashing across the screen. In one of the corner of the screen a window showed 'Baby Personality- Complete 78%'.

With the same sweet smile plastered across his face Rishi hit the pause button and ejected the CD. He opened another case whose cover was adorned by the menacing face of Heath Ledger in war paint. 'JOKER DISSECTED- An analysis of Heath Ledger's Joker from The Dark Knight motion picture' was written across the case.

Rishi inserted the CD and clicked resume.


-----


After his death in January 2008, millions across the world, across twitter, across facebook wished for Heath Ledger to be alive again. In 2073 their wish came true, almost. Instead of Heath Ledger, his character of the terrifying, mesmerizing Joker came into the world in flesh and bones.

Jessica Sanghvi gave birth to a boy in the winter of 2073.

8 years later, in 2081 his older brother died of puncture wounds. The boy had killed for the first time. With a pencil.

Just Old Friends

At first sight the room seemed like any normal room of a feisty 16 year old girl. But whether one can notice the subtleties which defines the person residing in here, whether she'll allow yourself to become a part of her existence or not,
depends largely upon the wish of the mistress of the room.

I was part of her once. Till she moved towards him.

A razor sat on the table on which fresh drops of blood glistered. One corner had a stack of Domino's boxes. The ashtray was filled with butts of Rothman's finest. A half finished Smirnoff casted it's spell on anyone who dared to look at it. A bookmarked copy of 'Catcher in the Rye' and a dogeared diary were the only signs of any literacy pieces in the room.

Her Kohl rimmed eyes bored through me and automatically my eyes dropped in shame. If they held tears or pain I might've had made it alright. Instead a fire burned in them. A fire fuelled by passion, confidence, zeal. Her face was a beacon of hope and determination. Determination to succeed, to make her plans works, to achieve everything she desired for, to lay her demons to rest.
And more the positiveness radiated from her the more inadequate and incomplete I felt.

And then she sighed. It held all the pieces of broken trust, pain, unfulfilled desires and expectations of her warm caring heart and that drove me further into the pits of despair. She didn't complained and that drove the dagger of guilt further in. She didn't screamed and that made me wish that she would tear my chest with the razor and pull my heart out.

"You don't understand. You won't understand..." her words trailed on.
It wasn't as if I didn't want to. I just couldn't. her mood swings made it difficult, my lack of compassion made it impossible. So many times she had tried to reach to me for comfort and so many times I had turned away. Wasn't it natural that she moved towards the one who did tried to comprehend the turmoil in her mind and soul. Who always stood by her. Was her rock when she needed him to hold on to and her best friend when she wanted someone to listen.
Completely natural.

Her phone rang. Must be him again.
"You should better go"

I silently reached the door and looked back. She was smiling, laughing into the phone. I purred hoping she will take me in her arms but he had already transported her to his world.
My eyes lingered on the Smirnoff. How I wish I could drown my sorrows in it.

As I jumped down the stairs to get to my dinner bowl, I realised a cat only has milk as his companion in anguish.


--


I can't say it's an original. One thing inspired me. And another idea I tweaked according to my convenience for giving the whole treatment.

Inspiration: a fellow blogger Trillian's collage which she has used for her blog's header.

Treatment: a short story by Jeffery Archer 'Just Good Friends'. (The title itself is a tribute)

Naked

His eyes met his own in the reflection.
Deep brown.
He saw his own face peering back. As if pleading to be pulled out from the depths of murky waters.

The smartly cut blue suit with a silk handkerchief in the pocket, the Rolex on his wrist, a nice haircut. Everything contrasted with he rest of his appearance.
Covered with dust and grime. Glitter. White foam. The week old stubble. Dried tears. Blood.

He looked as a sculpture crafted to perfection and then for good measures rubbed in the filth of the world.
The city was alive outside but none of the sounds penetrated the silence in his mind.

Who am I.

He undid his tie and dropped it to the floor. The coat followed the course.
The white shirt had been robbed of it's crispness a long time back. The patch of blood on the left side of his chest had dried a long time ago. His heart should've been there but it had ceased to beat in the past itself.
Slowly he departed with the shirt, the pant and his undergarments. Nude but still not stripped. Not an ounce of weight of the outside world, no expectations from other pulling him down, but he still felt as if lead ran through his veins.

He soaked the scrub in the ice cold water and touched his face to swipe off the make up of the world he has applied throughout his life. The moment it touched the filth of his face all the sadness he had felt engulfed him. All the disappointed faces of his peers brought tears to his eyes. The curses he had earned in his lifetime screamed in his head. Every hate filled face of his companions in the path of life swarmed his mind. Swearing at him. Wishing for his death. Paranoia. Madness.
Was he the devil's angel. The self centered soul of this dimension. Tasked with bringing death, destruction, sadness and grief to all those whose path he has crossed. Was he destined to hurt all of them in the name of showing them the truth?

His hands shook but he kept on scrubbing his body. He had to take the weight of his soul.

The scrub made contact with the foam and suddenly all the hatred of the world inside him changed to happiness. Fun. Laughter. Joy filled his soul. Memories of friends praising him, being grateful to him, being proud of him filled his body. The love he had given and had earned back.
Maybe that was his calling. Being a decent man in an indecent times. Helping others without being asked to. Caring for them. Making them smile through their tears. Being there rock in troubled times.

Suddenly the scrub made contact with the blood. He wasn't ready for this. The silence tightened its grip around him. He could hear the cricket on the other side of the world. The betrayals. The pain. The loves he had lost. The tears. The fragmented pieces of his broken trust entered his soul even further, drawing more blood to his soul. The long heeled scars opened again, sending waves of nausea through him but thankfully didn't started bleeding.
Maybe he was born to struggle. To fight. To fail. To lose.

The scrubbing off of the glitter brought contentment over his aching mind. The applauds, accolades, salutations filled his ears. The moments of glory, achievements and the beaming faces of people danced in front of his eyes.
Maybe he was supposed to reach his goals. Setting up one after the other. Finding contentment in living life on the crest of brilliance and splendour.

He dropped the remains of the scrub on the floor and stared back at the reflection.
Clean. Pure. Without virtues and vices. Naked. Stark naked. The way God wanted him to come to earth.
But wasn't his skin covered with his mother's blood when he had came out of the womb. Maybe God's best laid plans fail too.

He was brown from the sun. Face felt like sandpaper. Taut body and warm blood flowing through his head. But he felt light.

He stared back and suddenly, he found his place.

888

The much awaited sequel to 88.

X----------------------------------------------X

“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.

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.

PEACE.

& A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL OF YOU !!!

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

88

It felt good. In fact it felt really great.

My dick was hurting from fucking her hard for so long and my tongue ached for I had licked her cunt continuously for over an hour. It is a hard job to please a woman, satisfy her, keep her wanting for more and yet the ecstasy of the whole work is without comparison, unmatched, unparalleled. Words fail to describe the feeling when you finally reach an orgasm, when your white semen overflows her warm, wet pussy and oozes out of it and you feel her writher beneath you in her own world of pleasure. Pity I usually miss out the last part. Never have a lady cried in delight beneath me, a lot have cried out loud in pain but never in joy.

I sat on the foot of the bed and patted the thigh. It was still wet from my sweat and their blood. I took a towel and wiped the blood of me. That is the trouble of fucking two dead bodies, it gets very messy. You see every man has a particular position he is most satisfied with. For me well, I love to fuck and give an oral at the same time, which is quite impossible with a single woman so I just invented my own position. 88. So what if I have to kill two women whenever I feel horny?? Atleast I don’t go to bed with the same ladies twice.

I walked past the two useless upper torsos resting neatly near the door.

On the bloodied bed lay there better halves sewn together at the waist haphazardly.

Towards Nirvana...with Smirnoff & Rothman

The smoke swirled around his head for some moments before dissolving into the night. He threw away the stub and for the first time in a hour took air into his lungs without the accompanying fumes.

The stale smell of tobacco engulfed him and he could taste the acrylic butt of the cigarette intermingled with the burning aroma of vodka. His insides were on fire but it was the fire within his mind & soul that had forced him to take the cheap course of 'the stick & the drink'.

You will die one day... Your smoking will kill you ...stop doing this to yourself...please...

He was tired of gazing at the stars. He wanted to get up from the cot and go downstairs and sleep in his bed. He wished for a good life, a comfortable life, without much worries, much pain. He wished for so many things. He wished for amnesia. To forget everything and live life afresh. He wished her to come back. He wished his present girl to love him back. He wished for the uncertainty of his existence to go away. He wished for stronger stuff. Something that would choke his lungs with smoke, taking out all the air and leave him gasping for his breath. Something that would burn his throat more effectively and set his insides on fire with a new zeal. Something.. anything to deviate his mind from this feeling of helplessness.

"If only I would've foreseen this and arranged for some dope..."

Please don't ever leave me...even if you would have to fake your love and care just do it...be around me forever... never leave me...

In the end she was the one who left him.

You gave her your best shot but it was not meant to be...accept it and move on...

He lit another stick.

"If only...". He forced his mind not to dwell on this line of thinking. If that would have had happened, he would've been wishing for something else altogether. Human mind always wish for something else, it is never satisfied with what it has in his hands. "How will a person who has nothing left to wish for live??" he mused and abandoned the thought as soon as it was formed.

Everything is written...whatever has to happen will happen...that is inevitable...

He needed more juice in his drink but discarded the thought aside for he wanted a searing pain in his head the next morning. A hangover he desperately craved for but which has evaded him throughout his life. No matter how much alcohol he take, he always woke up the next morning fresh, a little late but without any effects of the night before.

"That would be a welcome change... I'll welcome all the physical pain in this world just to forget this heartache". He poured more rum and whiskey into his glass instead and gulped the cocktail down in one go. It wasn't a warm night and the chilly wind entered his loose shirt and made his body cold, yet he didn't feel a thing. Every drop of the amber coloured liquid sent blazing, warm shivers in his body. Every pore radiated a hotness he had never felt before.

She had come back into his life that morning only. Crying. But he didn't feel a thing. He didn't allow himself to feel a thing. He pitied her, felt sympathetic but that was it. He would've felt the same for anyone else he knew. He didn't feel the same special way as he did before when he was with her.

You have killed the feeling of love in yourself...you don't love her..you don't love your present girl...you don't love anyone...

He recalled the conversation he had with his present girl. Poor baby is herself going through a lean patch,trying to figure out her calling in life.Poor girl.

You don't love me...you think you love me...you want yourself to believe that...

"What would she say??" the image of another girl sprang to his mind. She loved him or at least she said she loved him. A smile started to appear on his dry lips. "Definitely she is gonna go bonkers...dead sure she'll use all the obscenities she knows".Cute. Pity he was always so cruel towards her. Always made her cry even when he didn't want to.

Will you ever say 'I love you too' back to me???

He lighted another cigarette and took in a long drag."Well that's a new personal record, two packs in a hour"

Life was throwing curveballs at him and like everyone in this world he was not backing down. He had no option...No one has any options...Everyone plan and everyone's plans go awry, yet no one learns and they keep following the bloody vicious circle.

"One day my life will slow down and I'll be in total control of it...I'll fucking attain nirvana, will be unaffected by everything...will be more indifferent then I'm today...more cynical...and who knows even figure out happiness"

He threw away the half finished cigarette.

Atleast now he could boast about something to the girl who loved him.

She would be so happy.

Antriksh the Skinner

In the late 18oo's, London was terrified by a serial killer christened Jack the Ripper by the press. The man used to kill prostitutes during the night. The victims were strangled and then their organs removed.

Cut to 2008, New Delhi. Tonight was a night of turmoil for me. At first I decided to curl up in bed and wish to the Almighty that he takes away this godforsaken life.

And that is when Satan approached me and suggested that why not instead of ending this life I put it to some better use and punish those who had made my life hell and are pushing others to the same path of madness??

That is when I decided that I'll don the role of 'The Skinner' who'll skin his victims alive.

I was a happy-go-lucky guy, sane in the head, quite satisfied with his life.

Until I decided to take a brake and watch some prime time television. And my ordeal started.

Mindless Reality shows, Reruns of family feuds on each channel, comedy shows which make me puke instead of laughing, a fuckingly mindless flick 'Blackmail' (I used to like Priyanka Chopra & Ajay Devgan before this) and on whatever is branded as the News channel,"Ek sadak jo khoon mangati hai....jise laal rang pasand hai...jahan maut ka nanga naach hota hai"(A road which asks for blood...which likes red colour....where death dances naked[END QUOTE]...I guess this was the part cause of which even Satan sat up in his warm little 'Hell-pad'...someone says your girlfriend dances naked on the street you sure won't sit away idly will you??), every fucking thing fizzled out my brain and left me in the state I'm.

I've decided that I'll roam the streets at night and when ever I'll find someone who is associated with with these mindless freak shows, I'll make sure that they pay for making me and my fellow human beings watch all of this crap.

Though there is something I can watch when the adrenaline has stopped pumping and am washing away the blood stains from my clothes, Cartoon Network and other Kid channels are worth a timepass...even falling anvils and talking animals make more sense than these family sagas and you can always switch to a sports channel (somewhere around the world someone must be playing something..even a kho-kho match between Bangladesh & Fiji is worth a dekko than the usual horseshit) or Discovery (or its subsidiary viz. History Channel or National Geographic) and learn something about this world and use it to show that dumb lass you've been trying to woo away from your best friend that you are smarter than him. And the music channels,only when singers in skimpy clothes sing or Katrina Kaif comes and shakes her booty(I don't give a damn about the Music..if I wish to hear a good song like a good criminal I'll download it from the net...Piracy Rocks !!!).

Time to go. Just saw an assistant of Ekta Kapoor. Need to sharpen my blade.

Where have the Jokers gone???

The most important of all the senses god bestow upon us is without doubt the Sense of Humour.

You can do away with smell when you are passing through the streets of Mumbai, eyes can always take a hike when flipping through channels(except in the cases when Katrina Kaif is on the screen...obvious exceptions), sense of touching is of no use when you have no one [:)] to touch, as for taste,if you've eaten south Indian once you've eaten it to last a lifetime ( if you've eaten a lot at 'Sagar Ratna' then maybe you'll understand what motions run through my mind and belly at the mere mention of it) and lastly as for the sense that provides us with hearing, well when horns are blaring at you in a Delhi traffic jam you'll wish you were born deaf.

All in all it is the Sense of Humour which don't have any ill effects (except maybe if you laugh at someone else's expense who looks like a cross between Batista and Khali and you are a poor copy of Rey Misterio then my friend you are in a lot of trouble and have all my sympathy with you).

Well my friends and me used to have this in abundance, the ability to laugh at others, make others laugh with us and when it really mattered make everyone laugh at someone we actually didn't liked. My best friend and me were quite a lethal duo in the last department, in fact the only time I was beaten was the one when I had pissed the guy really off and he was almost in tears, twisting and turning my dearest arm while I was laughing out so loud that I couldn't defend myself and my useless Partner-in-Crime was busy rolling on the floor laughing (with the whole class mind ya). Although with hindsight I can preach that laughing at someone else's expense can be quite hilarious provided it is safe (read the Batista-Khali scenario again) and clean but at that time we were the laughing duo, who disrupted the peace of the class and with whom even the class monitor used to laugh when we were suppose to play lambs (which mind ya is quite bewildering, I mean c'mon have you ever been with a bunch of lambs?? They make more racket then a mob of Manchester United fans).

Me and my mates have gone through a lot but always had each other to pass on the worries and laugh at our miseries. We still make fun of others and each other, sometimes even raising doubts over another persons sexual orientation and manliness (cheap jokes...hitting below the belt but we are usually drunk or high,in our defense, so it doesn't matter), even once in a while prove that the other person is pregnant and the fact that the other person is a guy never bothered us (am the only one with biology written as a subject in his HSC certificate but still I keep mum and enjoy the festivities never telling them that it is impossible... or is it??? haven't a guy given birth recently?? I tell you in this world of 'man-playing-god' anything is possible, even me getting a decent percentile in CAT or Kulu getting a job or Gaurav finally figuring out his love life).

Inspite of all the laughter and joy we share something has added up in our life which have changed all of us a lot. From simple carefree guys who used to idle away there time to glory without a thing to worry about in the world suddenly all of us have started trodding on the path of becoming Man. Real men like our fathers with responsibilities, commitment, troubles and problems on our minds (my parents were thinking of marrying me off to thrust some responsibity in me & the only thing that stopped them was my threat that then I'll leave my pesky kids on their door step while me and dearest will be out there earning our chikkan tikka and rumali roti, and trust me after raising me, ma & pa aren't be interested in rearing even 50% of my DNA for half a day). Studying like never before to get into a good college, worrying about the job at hand, going to the office at 7 and returning at 9, calling other pals to ask them whether they can post a resume to a company, screaming 'fucking hell' when the dean has banned their placement, worrying about finances and actually learning what really happens in the share market just to make a lil extra cash we all do it while planning for the life ahead.

The realisation that the era of our 'I-don't-give-a-damn' attitude is over is quite sad but that is reality for you. Reality continues to ruin my life.

And by the way there is a saving grace for me after all.

Bill Watterson said “Life's disappointments are harder to take when you don't know any swear words.” Thankfully I learnt a lot of them during my course of life.

I'm a simple man in the end.

Although yesterday I wished for a nuclear powered car that could turn into a jet with laser-guided heat-seeking missiles yet I'm a simple man.

I just got complex tastes.