The bimbo

There was once a pretty girl, a girl so pretty.

To her, she had entire books of poems dedicated.

Wrote some of her rosy cheeks, while of her silky hair some.

And showered day and night with gifts was she.

Some brought her flowers, some shiny earrings

And yet others tried to win her over with plain ol' chivalry.

Not only pretty, but infinitely nice was she

And not one left in disappointment, only glee.



It came not as a shock to many but her

As the doctor sighed and twirled his hair

Finally he turned and said to her..

Well, that's it, You've got herpes.

Instead of the shock and grief he expected to eclipse her face

A blank stare and nonchalance found he.

What a brave girl, thought he to himself

Till she parted her lips and said..

Oh, do i have to take shots to get rid of that? How does that happen?

Facepalmed the doctor himself, before he sent her home with all the right answers.



Slowly the number of admirers dwindling watched she

As the disease spread without concern or mercy.

And once the last of them was gone, she feared

That not much about the world knew, did she.

So used to the vile gifts had grown the pretty girl

That forgotten to become smart and fend for herself had she.

But, she thought to herself, let me make myself some tea.

After all, how hard could it be?

And so it happened that an hour later, the neighbours heard a shattering blast.

As, fidgeting with the gas cylinder, the pretty girl was gone at last.

The End.



p.s. Herpes is not the end of the world. Do check these folks to make yourself feel better.

A mother's love

It was a pleasant evening. The sun was just dipping beyond the horizon, a cool breeze was making its way through the closely packed huts and the usual stench seemed lesser. The mongrels seemed to have disappeared, leaving behind nothing but silence, broken only by the occasional cry of one of the toddlers who seemed a dozen a dime, in this colony. Somewhere far away, if one really strained their ears, they could hear what seemed like a quarrel between two old women. Then again, one could also lose themselves in the the soothing yet lost melody, as the widow who lived in the last hut on the left tried sing away her sorrows. To one eye, it appeared a perfect scenario. To another, almost an eerie calm before the storm..

And a pleasant evening it still was, when Ni'mah came skipping in to her home. She hurried to her mother, who was busy in the little portion of the hut that had been designated as the kitchen area. "Ammi Jaan" she said, "My teacher called me very good today. I wrote the entire tables of 9 before everyone else." "Hmm, that's good. Your abba will be very happy" replied Shafana. Disappointed with not having received the excited response she wanted, Ni'mah continued, "Nobody else did it for ten minutes after i finished. The teacher said i was very smart!" Lost in her own thoughts, Shafana again absently replied "Very good, sweetheart." Disappointed, Ni'mah turned towards the door and was about to exit, when she saw Ahmed jaan running through the colony, screaming at the top of his lungs..

At first, it seemed like he was being chased by the scourges of hell themselves, but soon, as he got closer and closer, Shafana heard the commotion and joined her daughter at the door. 'They're coming.. They're here..' he seemed to be shouting. 'Who is here?' wondered Ni'mah to herself. She turned to ask her mother, but stopped halfway when she noticed the expression on her mother's face. Shafana was shocked. She had heard of all the mobs which were victimising Muslims, but she had prayed fervently to Allah, that they would never come this way. She had heard too many horrifying stories of how the mobs had destroyed & desecrated entire families to be able to keep courage and she felt her feet give way..

Being the bright girl she was, Ni'mah immediately ran over, picked up some water and sprinkled it on the face of her mother, who regained consciousness, appearing ten years older than she had done ten minutes before.
"What happened, ammi?"
"Nothing sweetheart, nothing. I must be tired. I didn't eat properly in the afternoon."
"Ammi, what was Ahmed jaan saying? Who is coming?"
"Ni'mah, my dear, you know that your abba and I love you a lot, right? You're the prettiest, smartest girl in the world."
"Ammi, tell me.. who is coming?"
"*sigh* It's the Hindus. They're coming in mobs. It'll be alright. Don't worry."
"Ammi, why are they coming? Why would i worry?"
"Nothing sweetheart. Some people did very bad things to Hindus on a train. Some of them think that every muslim should be punished. Don't worry, nothing will happen to us, Allah will protect us.."
"But ammi, doesn't Allah get angry with people who do bad things? Isn't that what abba keeps telling me? And even my teacher at school tells us that Hindus, Muslims, Christians and everybody else is equal. Isn't it, ammi?"
*sob*
"Ammi, why are you crying?"
"Nothing, Ni'mah, nothing. Yes, you're right. Allah does not like people who do bad things. He will punish whoever did any wrong to anyone. But the Hindus do not believe in Allah. They have become blind with anger. Allah will protect us. Allah will forgive them.."
"But ammi, even if they don't believe in Allah.. is it still not wrong to do bad to others. Aren't they still human?"

Before Shafana could reply, screams began to escalate through the colony. From the doorway, Shafana could see men dressed as priests and whatnot dragging out women from the homes, striking them mercilessly. Then, she noticed something which froze her in horror at the sheer magnitude of the vulgarity. Afsana, her friend's 12 year old daughter was stripped naked and being passed around amongst the wolfish mob, who, it appeared by the dancing lights of their torches, had developed vulpine teeth and devilish horns. Afsana's mother lay nearby, her clothes in shreds and some hairy beast on top of her, while more beasts with greedy eyes surrounded the scene like vultures, waiting for their share of the spoils.

Quickly bolting the door, Shafana huddled in the corner with the now silent Ni'mah, saying all her prayers, hoping that the mob would not come their way. She thought of how much she loved Ni'mah, her abba and how much he owed to him. She thought of what she had just seen and though she wanted to throw up, she couldn't muster the courage to move from the corner she was huddled in. Much though she tried, she couldn't get the scene out of her head. All of a sudden, the scene seemed suddenly surreal and she saw Ni'mah in place of Afsana.. Overcome with disgust, she tried to push the image out of her mind. But before she could, she saw vivid images of herself, knife in hand, trying to fight away the beasts, and seeing that there were too many, putting the knife through her daughter's heart, feeling like it was going through her own..

Ni'mah, who was already shivering, shuddered as there were loud thuds on the door. She could hear chants in praise of the Hindu gods outside. She didn't want to go out. She wanted the door to remain closed, forever. It felt very comfortable in the warm embrace of her mother. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother grab the kitchen knife. Was she going to fight away the bad people? As the thumping increased, the door began to give way. As it slowly but surely started to move out of its hinges, Ni'mah's heart began to pound and she turned to look at her mother. Her mother was crying, very clearly. And then she noticed something peculiar. Her mother's hand, holding the knife seemed to be raised. It was now moving down, it seemed, towards Ni'mah's heart and she slowly watched it come closer and closer..

Photo credit: http://outhouseworldphoto.wordpress.com/2007/10/27/muslim-malaygirl/

Samsung Galaxy Tab 750 - Hands on!

After a lazy kicked-back saturday afternoon at chai point with 'rj ranjaan', i was finally off on my way to the Goldfinch hotel, for my first indiblogger meet, ever. Little did i know, as i bounced on the balls of my feet in excitement, that i would be stuffed into one of those shiny local buses with overly loud telugu/tamil/kannada cinema blaring through the speakers before i got there. But got there i did.

Now, i'm not a person who likes wasting too much time when i'm somewhere with a purpose (which, sadly, doesn't seem to apply to my general life) and off i set, charging straight to the point where the galaxy tabs were being doled out. Sadly enough, i didn't manage to land my hands on one right away. So, off it was, to the presentation by sarfaraz, which, given that it was an informal saturday afternoon, was pretty much all that could have been asked for. Free sweatshirts flowed through the halls, like the rain did through the streets outside. And some delicioso high-tea and "performance" discussions later, i finally had my hands on one of those beauties.

At the very outset, it was clear as day that the bright screen was something worth drooling over. (see what i did there? heh.) The display was definitely better than any i had ever seen. Trust me, held it wayy close to my eyes and checked. The pixel density of 149 ppi really pays off here and makes it the perfect device to use if you want to watch a movie/show on a bus ride. Another thing, quite akin to the iPad 2 was the lightness and the overall feel. The Galaxy Tab so light, it made me weigh my phone twice, just to compare. Throw in a classy finish as well and you're in for a certain visual delight.

Another thing very important to me is my music. And i certainly would appreciate the comfort of being able to keep my ipod/walkman at home some day, for some reason, knowing that the galaxy tab would be right there for me. Out came the XB-300s for a test ride. And i wasn't disappointed, at all. While i did not manage to figure out a way to edit the levels of bass and treble, the galaxy tab still provided me with better quality on music than my laptop did. Thumbs up, there.

As far as the performance was concerned, everything seemed to run smooth, even when i was streaming music through the browser in the background, using a 'live' wallpaper and using the integrated gmaps. The browser, in itself, was laudable, having adobe flash 10.2 and rendering websites pretty much the same as on a full-blown computer. Another lovely feature, from earlier, is the way e-books can be read almost like real ones, turning of pages et al included. Of course, the readers hub may take a while to catch on, but it's definitely a healthy addition.

There was one tiny blackspot, however, as the touchscreen seemed to fail to respond a couple of times, not more than once on each occasion though. However, this slight tardiness in responding to touch may very well be something which can be made a non-issue with a particular way of touching the screen. And, maybe, just maybe, samsung could have let the android music player as stock, rather than integrating it with the touchwiz ux. Still, overall, a very healthy competitor for the tab market. Gonna run the iPad close, this one is.

The rain in the coffee shop

As i stood there, in the rain, backpack in tow, imagining that the scene looked like one of the timeless classics and i, like Gregory Peck, my thoughts started to drift. I know not when the two worlds collided for they seemed to have merged seamlessly and i found myself in a coffee shop. Not just any coffee shop. The coffee shop where i had finally met her..

It was all a haze, the past. All those times we'd celebrated over being Scorpios, all those shared jibes we'd taken at people we didn't like, all those promises we believed we would keep, never having met once in real life. All the wonderful music we shared, all the empty silences we braved..

It all came down to that moment, where love ends and hurt begins. And hurt, often causes one to hurt. 'May be you'll blog about me,' she said. 'You'd like that, wouldn't you?' said i, with an imperfect, unsure smirk. 'But, you know what's wrong with you?' i carried on, laying it all out, one icy shard after the other, silently praying she would change her mind. And we spent the final moments in silence.

As i left, having shook the hand of this tender flower whom i wanted to caress and hold in my arms, the words reverberated in my ear 'It's wrong. You're so much younger. It's just wrong..' And so they shall, for a long time..

The cow who fell from the sky

Spockett was mad. He was so mad he could have pulled his lone eye right out of its stalk and played bounce with it to calm himself down. Nothing was right today. The biiglie machine was out of order, Kirkon had called in sick and most importantly, the claw seemed to have developed a mind of its own. He walked over to the edge of the craft to see if the cloud cloaking him was still intact. As he leaned over the railing, cursing under his breath, he saw that it indeed was. Slightly relieved, he walked over to the radar and hit the scan button. Soon enough, it lit up with green dots indicating the scores of clueless bovine which dotted the landscape that this 'unidentified flying object' was zooming across. 'Beanie Weenie shiny doe, i pick you to feed my bro' chanted Spockett as his finger flit across the radar screen pointing from one dot to another. 'Naaah', he said to himself, 'that dot doesn't nearly look plump enough. Oh well, i guess i'll just take.. mmmmm.. this one.'
Lisa was having a good day. She always had a good day. She had a fixed schedule which suited her just fine. She wasn't like one of the countless street cattle. She was a thoroughbred. The way her hips swayed, nobody's did and the way her bell chimed, none did. She only had the greenest of grass to feed on and had, on more than one occasion, sent the farmhand scurrying to find her a better pasture to graze on. Her milk was simply wonderful, she believed. Which is why the farmer used it to make cheese and sell it, instead of sending her considerable stature to the butcher-shop. Today was, like we have read before, a good day. Ah, there was Gregory. She thought she'd amble over and say 'moo. So, off she set, her bell chiming in tune to her swaying. She was closer to him, closer to him, almost there, moving farther away, farther away, he was just a speck now.. Wait, she looked around frantically, she was flying! Some sort of claw from a cloud seemed to be carrying her. After 'mooing herself hoarse for a few minutes, she said to herself, out of the blue 'Hmm, this ain't so bad afterall!' So, she leaned back, trying to find herself a nice and comfy position. All of a sudden, she found herself falling. 'Moooo!' she said, 'Moooo!'

'Drat!' said Spockett to himself, 'That's gonna leave a mess.'

Nathan was a man of god. He was a man of principles. He was a virtuous man. He ardently abhorred all sins of the flesh and of the mind. He religiously practiced all the rituals prescribed to him. He helped the needy and the poor and prayed to the lord to forgive the evil and the wicked. He believed in the power of prayer. He believed in heaven. He believed in hell. He protected his soul from the devil. He had never uttered a single foul word in his entire life. He had never let the demon cloud his judgement. Today, as Nathan was walking down the road, he saw a cow being dragged to the butchers'. Being the principled anti-cruelty activist that he was, he rushed to the spot. 'Spare this here cow, brother' he said, 'for only the lord hath the power to give and to take!' After being scoffed at mightily by the butcher, Nathan finally parted with a few pieces of silver and set the cow on her way. 'Take care my friend,' he said, 'May you live happily with the grace of the Lord, our shepherd.' As he started walking down the street, he thought he heard somebody say 'moooove'. Startled, he looked around. Finding nothing, he was about to carry on when he heard the voice again; 'moooove' it said. In the hope that it would be Divine grace (and that heaven lies upwards, for some reason), Nathan looked up, only to see Lisa raining down upon him. 'Oh, fuck!' he said.

'Phew', whistled Spockett to himself, 'That was messy.'
The End.