Dec. 4, 2005.
Some wounds are deep,
Deep within your being,
They fester away relentlessly,
Corroding your soul.
These are special wounds,
Inflicted by those you love,
An enemy could stab and stab,
Still these hurt more.
The agony and trauma they cause,
Never, never do they heal,
You try but can’t forgive,
They haunt you till your death.
It’s like Gold and Iron talking,
Gold says, “We are beaten the same”
“But you shout and I bear.
“Why is that my dear?”
Iron says with a heavy voice:
“The difference is my friend,
You are beaten by iron,
But me by my own!”
- Neil
Monday, December 05, 2005
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Not so long ago, there was a bunny who ran helter-skelter for his carrots in a nearby town called Villa Parlon. Since a tender age, he was taught to be caring, honest and hard-working. Problem was he took it to heart about the first two things and ignored the third. He grew up wishing for a beautiful life with Reddington Carrots, Reddington Palace, Reddington Car and with the red-blooded princess of Reddington as his lady. (Reddington being a brand name associated with the best there is.) As long as he works a little, remains honest, is nice with people and enjoys his life, he would be fine, he thought. How naïve was he?
When all of sixteen he first encountered serious competition, not for intelligence or honesty or academics, but for being cunning and street smart! He floundered, held on to his values and moved ahead one step at a time, slightly annoyed, that others were leaping two steps at a time though cheating. Always wishing that he would meet the real friend, a real soul mate and the world would stop spinning so viciously. He found many friends claiming to be from Reddington town itself, only to be stabbed later in the back, with his own carrots. Thankfully for him, they were only carrots and his heart recuperated, the agony in his soul subsided but not without some parts dying within him, with his bushy tail shedding or ears feeling the gravity and drooping. In the graduation year from Reddington High, God did reward his perseverance with his values by crossing his path with the princess of Reddington but warned him that all good things is life henceforth, shall not be so easy to come by. This was an exception because she’s going to be instrumental in your further progress and help you succeed.
Couple of years went by with now young Bugs taking on the real world, the real wolves the likes of whom he had seen earlier at Reddington High. But those seemed cubs in front of these big bullies. Poor Bugs had to grow up and fast. His stubbornness didn’t help much. Finally he decided it was time he applied to a Castle to be trained as a knight. Simba City Castle , King J. Somerset Castle, Micannelly Castle, Wellington Castle, all had their long drawn application procedures and hordes of wannabe knights would apply for these coveted programmes. It was not an easy choice nor was it down his line, he thought. But if he has to go to war, he better be trained for it at Simba City or Wellington than go solo and risk becoming a martyr for values which are getting outdated, he pondered. As the princess put it succinctly, “With all the training you will get as a knight intern, wouldn’t it be easier to defend your values? Your carrots are no good when it comes to such brave deeds. You better invest these next two years to get that coveted Simba City or Wellington Sword” (which by the way are the real world names for a prestigious brand like Reddington, Bugs found out.) She knew how to make him understand these real world philosophies, in his language.
So off he went to his burrow and toiled hard cause it was no mean task to get selected as an intern at these castles. Hard work had struck back with vengeance for being neglected so long and had Bugs completely helpless and frustrated at times but he knew by now that this is just the beginning. At the castle there was more to come, lots more, so he flogged himself harder.
Among the tasks, one was to bell a big, wild, ferocious cat. Another one had Bugs running for cover where he had to speak clearly and make his point, with screaming witches from Dellisbury beside him and some frogs croaking ever so loudly. The three judges could barely hear their own thoughts, he reasoned, how can they analyze his performance. Then came the ultimate hoop to jump, three sorcerers were to cross-examine him on his life, his deeds and how many and how deep the burrows he created were. Why did he particularly burrow at Reddington Garden for three years after graduation and what did he achieve by it and so on.
After all this he grew so tired that given the Wellington Sword directly, he would collapse under it. Further bad news from Simba City, Micanelly etc demoralized him. Various stories of the internships being sold, the kings’ relatives ushered in etc., further aggravated his situation. Finally, news came through from Wellington that he had been selected as knight intern and his joy knew no bounds! He played his carrot flute all day and pranced around like a ballet bunny. His efforts did pay off, he smiled. His smile turning into a sigh of relief and a sigh of further hard work down the line to become the most precious knight he could be in Wellington. Then he would challenge all his foes to duals and have the confidence that he can win them defending his values.
The Reddington Carrots and the Reddington Palace were not so far away after all. Only that now they would be the REAL Wellington Carrots and Wellington Palace. This is the story of how the dreamy eyed, lofty headed, high flying Bugs saw the light and found his feet on the ground, only realize that leaping is his real strength.
When all of sixteen he first encountered serious competition, not for intelligence or honesty or academics, but for being cunning and street smart! He floundered, held on to his values and moved ahead one step at a time, slightly annoyed, that others were leaping two steps at a time though cheating. Always wishing that he would meet the real friend, a real soul mate and the world would stop spinning so viciously. He found many friends claiming to be from Reddington town itself, only to be stabbed later in the back, with his own carrots. Thankfully for him, they were only carrots and his heart recuperated, the agony in his soul subsided but not without some parts dying within him, with his bushy tail shedding or ears feeling the gravity and drooping. In the graduation year from Reddington High, God did reward his perseverance with his values by crossing his path with the princess of Reddington but warned him that all good things is life henceforth, shall not be so easy to come by. This was an exception because she’s going to be instrumental in your further progress and help you succeed.
Couple of years went by with now young Bugs taking on the real world, the real wolves the likes of whom he had seen earlier at Reddington High. But those seemed cubs in front of these big bullies. Poor Bugs had to grow up and fast. His stubbornness didn’t help much. Finally he decided it was time he applied to a Castle to be trained as a knight. Simba City Castle , King J. Somerset Castle, Micannelly Castle, Wellington Castle, all had their long drawn application procedures and hordes of wannabe knights would apply for these coveted programmes. It was not an easy choice nor was it down his line, he thought. But if he has to go to war, he better be trained for it at Simba City or Wellington than go solo and risk becoming a martyr for values which are getting outdated, he pondered. As the princess put it succinctly, “With all the training you will get as a knight intern, wouldn’t it be easier to defend your values? Your carrots are no good when it comes to such brave deeds. You better invest these next two years to get that coveted Simba City or Wellington Sword” (which by the way are the real world names for a prestigious brand like Reddington, Bugs found out.) She knew how to make him understand these real world philosophies, in his language.
So off he went to his burrow and toiled hard cause it was no mean task to get selected as an intern at these castles. Hard work had struck back with vengeance for being neglected so long and had Bugs completely helpless and frustrated at times but he knew by now that this is just the beginning. At the castle there was more to come, lots more, so he flogged himself harder.
Among the tasks, one was to bell a big, wild, ferocious cat. Another one had Bugs running for cover where he had to speak clearly and make his point, with screaming witches from Dellisbury beside him and some frogs croaking ever so loudly. The three judges could barely hear their own thoughts, he reasoned, how can they analyze his performance. Then came the ultimate hoop to jump, three sorcerers were to cross-examine him on his life, his deeds and how many and how deep the burrows he created were. Why did he particularly burrow at Reddington Garden for three years after graduation and what did he achieve by it and so on.
After all this he grew so tired that given the Wellington Sword directly, he would collapse under it. Further bad news from Simba City, Micanelly etc demoralized him. Various stories of the internships being sold, the kings’ relatives ushered in etc., further aggravated his situation. Finally, news came through from Wellington that he had been selected as knight intern and his joy knew no bounds! He played his carrot flute all day and pranced around like a ballet bunny. His efforts did pay off, he smiled. His smile turning into a sigh of relief and a sigh of further hard work down the line to become the most precious knight he could be in Wellington. Then he would challenge all his foes to duals and have the confidence that he can win them defending his values.
The Reddington Carrots and the Reddington Palace were not so far away after all. Only that now they would be the REAL Wellington Carrots and Wellington Palace. This is the story of how the dreamy eyed, lofty headed, high flying Bugs saw the light and found his feet on the ground, only realize that leaping is his real strength.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
I know why God keeps us busy.
I finally found out why man is engrossed in so many endeavours like science, arts, astrology, tarot, occult, religion etc etc.
This is my theory:
Basically man is a thinking animal. (By man I mean mankind, women think two times more than an average man, I feel). If left to himself, he will ferret out the cause of life on earth, the beginning, the end, the past and the future. He will think and think and go on with research and a linear process will lead to the inevitable i.e. the solution. THE FINAL SOLUTION. Where did we come from? Why are we on this earth? Who am I? Why does life behave in such a way with me? Why is life so unfair? What, if any, is the ideal character – honest or dishonest? / Practical or idealistic? Then again what is idealistic? etc
So in order to confuse and prolong the process of finding the Final Solution, GOD, or who ever we find responsible for this mess called life, has put in what I call – Random Variable/ Element. This is the one where luck, destiny, stars, chance, coincidence or bad karma comes in. These elements are put in just to distract and distort the real situation. As soon as some one comes close to the real solution or the right track, he dies or something happens which changes his mind or people condemn him for being a mad man. This is so because he was too close for comfort.
These Random Elements behave as the name suggests. No one can predict or presage such events. One thing I believe to be true is that only time these variables show up is when some one is doing an excellent work, beyond a certain level of mediocrity – generally accepted as geniality. If man thought out his way, then to whom will he surrender? In front of whom will he bow? Can any one stop him from being ego-centric?
It will be a curious world to live in; curious, as I don’t want to label it as unethical, dangerous or ideal, without experiencing it. This poem would throw some light on our world today and the one who tries to get out. Either that or suck you into a dark abyss of confusion.
A Curious World
No one can know it unless it comes true,
And no one wants it but a few,
For the rest it’s all the same,
They have resigned to being lame.
Here a spark flies,
To start a wild fire of passion,
Before it kindles, it pours,
To river of ashes turns our hope.
The one who stands tall to it,
Has to crumble under pressure,
Has to kneel down to some one,
Feel the need to surrender.
Such is the maya of this world,
To search and defend the truth he dies,
After his death it’s forgotten,
For whom his body lies.
All in wane and wasted,
Nothing worth fighting for,
Live each day in your dazed numbness,
And die one day, careless and faceless!
- Neil
This is my theory:
Basically man is a thinking animal. (By man I mean mankind, women think two times more than an average man, I feel). If left to himself, he will ferret out the cause of life on earth, the beginning, the end, the past and the future. He will think and think and go on with research and a linear process will lead to the inevitable i.e. the solution. THE FINAL SOLUTION. Where did we come from? Why are we on this earth? Who am I? Why does life behave in such a way with me? Why is life so unfair? What, if any, is the ideal character – honest or dishonest? / Practical or idealistic? Then again what is idealistic? etc
So in order to confuse and prolong the process of finding the Final Solution, GOD, or who ever we find responsible for this mess called life, has put in what I call – Random Variable/ Element. This is the one where luck, destiny, stars, chance, coincidence or bad karma comes in. These elements are put in just to distract and distort the real situation. As soon as some one comes close to the real solution or the right track, he dies or something happens which changes his mind or people condemn him for being a mad man. This is so because he was too close for comfort.
These Random Elements behave as the name suggests. No one can predict or presage such events. One thing I believe to be true is that only time these variables show up is when some one is doing an excellent work, beyond a certain level of mediocrity – generally accepted as geniality. If man thought out his way, then to whom will he surrender? In front of whom will he bow? Can any one stop him from being ego-centric?
It will be a curious world to live in; curious, as I don’t want to label it as unethical, dangerous or ideal, without experiencing it. This poem would throw some light on our world today and the one who tries to get out. Either that or suck you into a dark abyss of confusion.
A Curious World
No one can know it unless it comes true,
And no one wants it but a few,
For the rest it’s all the same,
They have resigned to being lame.
Here a spark flies,
To start a wild fire of passion,
Before it kindles, it pours,
To river of ashes turns our hope.
The one who stands tall to it,
Has to crumble under pressure,
Has to kneel down to some one,
Feel the need to surrender.
Such is the maya of this world,
To search and defend the truth he dies,
After his death it’s forgotten,
For whom his body lies.
All in wane and wasted,
Nothing worth fighting for,
Live each day in your dazed numbness,
And die one day, careless and faceless!
- Neil
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
9th March, 2005
Bang at 9.24 am when I had hardly finished brushing my buck-teeth, a call came through. My cell phone was nowhere to be found in my shabby burrow. After searching high and low , rather low and lower in the burrow, I pacified it by picking it up, like a crying baby. Remembering the etiquette class, I "smiled" into the cell,"Whats up, Doc?" Imagine my plight when Doctor Dolittle, who actually does quite a lot for his name, announced," Congrats!, you babbling hare, you gonna be an uncle,bro! You got a nephew..." "NO!," I exclaimed,"you must be kidding.Like that day when you fooled Mr. Foster ' The Aussie Kangaroo', into believing that the poodle in his pouch was his Joey!" "Aam serious maan, your bro, Viny , the beaver, has become a father", he said in his most nasal 'brotherly' accent. I couldn't believe him. My eyes welled up, I had the sniffles. Then tears started started down my huge cheeks. Suddenly I remembered the chopped onions in the kitchen. " Thats awesome,catch you later, doc!" Click! (You see I slept through the last part of the class when they taught about 'closing gracefully')
After breakfast while searching for my helmet, I thought of how a young beaver, one year younger to me, who barely had a moustache, who shaved till it hurt to complete his French beard, that fellow biker, was a Father now!! I wondered when he would mature and asked him once, " A year after you , Bugs, simple logic!" he used to say. "High hopes," I chuckled " even at 70 my grand children would be shouting at me, ' Grow up grand pa, this is serious stuff. Please dont play with your respirator switch!!' " And we both laughed till we couldn't see the road ahead ahead due to watery eyes. Finally it took a cop and a fine for speeding, to control our emotions. Though by then the cop was laughing away with his share.
Then I thought of the baby, will he be like his father, gregarious, adventurous, a born fighter with strong will power, a hard working fellow or like his mother - calm, unperturbed, happy-go-lucky, afraid of the lizards? Just then Princess Una, the beautiful angel whom I adore telepathically called to say that he was 'the cutest bundle of joy'.
I rushed along to visit my nephew...
Bang at 9.24 am when I had hardly finished brushing my buck-teeth, a call came through. My cell phone was nowhere to be found in my shabby burrow. After searching high and low , rather low and lower in the burrow, I pacified it by picking it up, like a crying baby. Remembering the etiquette class, I "smiled" into the cell,"Whats up, Doc?" Imagine my plight when Doctor Dolittle, who actually does quite a lot for his name, announced," Congrats!, you babbling hare, you gonna be an uncle,bro! You got a nephew..." "NO!," I exclaimed,"you must be kidding.Like that day when you fooled Mr. Foster ' The Aussie Kangaroo', into believing that the poodle in his pouch was his Joey!" "Aam serious maan, your bro, Viny , the beaver, has become a father", he said in his most nasal 'brotherly' accent. I couldn't believe him. My eyes welled up, I had the sniffles. Then tears started started down my huge cheeks. Suddenly I remembered the chopped onions in the kitchen. " Thats awesome,catch you later, doc!" Click! (You see I slept through the last part of the class when they taught about 'closing gracefully')
After breakfast while searching for my helmet, I thought of how a young beaver, one year younger to me, who barely had a moustache, who shaved till it hurt to complete his French beard, that fellow biker, was a Father now!! I wondered when he would mature and asked him once, " A year after you , Bugs, simple logic!" he used to say. "High hopes," I chuckled " even at 70 my grand children would be shouting at me, ' Grow up grand pa, this is serious stuff. Please dont play with your respirator switch!!' " And we both laughed till we couldn't see the road ahead ahead due to watery eyes. Finally it took a cop and a fine for speeding, to control our emotions. Though by then the cop was laughing away with his share.
Then I thought of the baby, will he be like his father, gregarious, adventurous, a born fighter with strong will power, a hard working fellow or like his mother - calm, unperturbed, happy-go-lucky, afraid of the lizards? Just then Princess Una, the beautiful angel whom I adore telepathically called to say that he was 'the cutest bundle of joy'.
I rushed along to visit my nephew...
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Poem for the Hopefuls
Pursue all your goals,
Satisfy your thirsty souls,
Get up when u fall down,
What (luck) goes around comes around!
Then it will be your day,
You will be there and say,
I thank him and i thank her,
Dont forget lady luck, cos shes very dear!
Satisfy your thirsty souls,
Get up when u fall down,
What (luck) goes around comes around!
Then it will be your day,
You will be there and say,
I thank him and i thank her,
Dont forget lady luck, cos shes very dear!
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