Thursday, September 28, 2006

Krrish Rocks!

So went to a friend's house for no particular reason, and ended up with a plastic model of none other than india's (something like sixteenth) "first" superhero, Krrish!

Obviously my mobile camera, and photoshop came into the picture...

Here is Krrish in his trademark pose above the small north eastern town. Only here it is a google Earth cap of Manhatten, uncyclopedia will have a citation that Manhatten, is, in fact, located in some obscure North Eastern location... only thing is that I was too lazy to remove the Ram that was so appealing to the Nat Geo photographer...

But eventual boredom and lack of capacity to study for my upcoming exams motivated me to half heartedly try anyway... but now the scene is so empty... it needs something... probably a hot sex scene... or an action sequence... or Priyanka chopra...

With a THX sound FX to introduce it, Krrish pops out a lightsabre... and wonders what to do with it... tell him where he can shove it...

Someone apparently told him what to do with it... but forgot to mention mention what the "it" stood for... so he found Angie Everhart.

And as a finale, somewhere in the middle of this interesting photoshoot or the libido of this plastic figurine, this happened:

And THAT is the sad end to this story. How I wish Krrish would have ended up like this, and there would not be YET another sequel.



The sun it hides behind the smog

Afraid to nurture anymore

The streams now laugh in dark humor

And birds are but for urban carrion

The seasons have turned schizophrenic

Their pass bereft of identity

We have never built, merely destroyed

We are guilty of raping

Our mother

We have milked her dry,

And now we are wasted

In the rot that remains

In the dregs

That are but a reflection

Of men

Victims not of circumstance

As the make themselves to be

But that of their decadence

And being a part of the antimovement

Is just not

My cup of tea


scream at your minions

they dont really give a fuck

that's why they are here

not for your expression; theirs

dream of being their god

they dont really give a fuck

that's why they pray

not for their wellfare; yours

scheme of their destruction

they dont really give a fuck

that's why they converge

not for their protection; their ideologies

deem their laws for them

they don't really give a fuck

that's why they revolt

not for their emancipation; yours

through their expression

their ideologies will survive

and you will be emancipated

but only if you dont give a fuck


The first pic is a composite of the second and third... light falls on a mosque or church in the middle of nowhere... although the two color photos kills the effect of the black and white, I am blogging it for some weird reason anyway. The last is a photoshop job of something I rendered long ago... really like it now. Cheers.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

The Hindi Nasal tone

Whenewher you speak in Hindi, there is this nasal tone that is incorporated without any specific matra or punctuation for it. There is no letter to say you have to go nasal... everyone just does it. Like "mein" or "haan". The weird thing is, although in the Roman script, the nasal is implied by the n at the end of the word, in Hindi, the nasal comes at the BEGGENING of the word. To use an alternative to illustrate, its "mew" not "mew". So what? Nothing really... just something I noticed...


This is a poem I found in my grandfather’s old book called “Modern Bengali Poetry”
(published in 1945).
The beauty of this is that this was only translated and published in 1945. Seeing how things would be so slow to move back in those days of turmoil, the poem had to be written atleast ten years before the English translation was published, to give sufficient time for the poetry to gain fame and deserve translation in a compilation. What amazes me is the amount of scientific knowledge Bengali poets possessed in the mid 1930s. Some of this is more than what people know about the universe even today.


Prememndra Mitra

Remember the great Joke,

In the Phantom dance of electrons

The setting sun has woven a bright border of the clouds,

And the green earth breaks in waves at the horizon.

The rain falls on the darkened town;

The gas light is caught in puddles in the streers

And slides across the asphalt.

Ah, I loved it,

The sky, the stars, the flowering grass,

And the long lashes of her eyes,

Which cast, like tall clouds, mysterious shadows

In her eye’s fathomless deeps.

Once you saw the helpless face of a child

In the street;

In the lonely sleepless night

You wept the unconsoling tears of the defeated soul,

The tears that youth alone can know;

You knew, suddenly

The infinite deep despair of sudden death

Terrible in its meaninglessness-

Know that this is but illusion

And a mirage before you.

God’s thought is just electron mathematics

Beyond the Milky Way

Covering the infinite spaces

His sport of mathematics in the nebulae

Which the strange tree

At the roadside

Stands you with the sudden shout of flowers,

And when you desire

To spread her hair across all consciousness-

Remember this game of electrons.

You may love or weep

Ask with soundless cry

The aimless question of the soul;

God’s thought is just electron mathematics

In abstract, flawless calculations.

Take comfort, from this joke of the electrons!

Yet why should I remember this?

Though there be complicated space-time geometry in the sky

The endless scribble of calculation:

For me let there be

Beyond all calculation

The irony of the we of illusion

Wrapt in the colors of intoxication,

This transitory bubble;

Birth, death, and love,

Joy, pain and the unmeaning

Prayer of the soul.

I know that this life is devoid of meaning.

But what is the use of seeing behind the joke?

Monday, September 25, 2006

Jhonny Walker

I walk down paths of a varying kind

Seeking sensations I don’t yet know

But merely flirting with the ones I find

Where a better high is a newfound low

These parallel paths are intertwined

Elevated to something of a thrill whore

A frantic walk with an “open mind”

These may be exciting paths to explore

I walk down paths of a varying kind

But I know that I am walking blind

Caps from Dhoom2 Theatrical Trailer

Screencaps from Dhoom2's thatrical trailer. Mostly has Hrithik Roshan sufferring from a serious Krrish hangover, pulling of rediculous stunts like skating below a sixteenwheeler, flying away from a crash site, god knows how, and parachuting right onto a running train AND skating on the rails from behind... then there is Aishwarya, not only in a bikini, but in also various other types of skimpy clothing. Bipasha, whenever she arrives on screen is fully clad, and probably has the same designer from corporate... Abhi and Udhay hardly ever show up... want to watch the movie though... for kicks, Dhoom was amazing, loved it for some odd reason, probably will love Dhoom2 as well...

Sunday, September 24, 2006

The unshow - episode III

Watch the video
Simple thing really, camera in front of the PC recording it, two visiting cards drawn on by none other than the one and only Chirag Mahabal. they take up the role of the two mellow, mysterious, intoxicating, and terribly terrible fucking intelligent voices.?


Just saw Dave Gorman's Googlewhack adventure, and I am just searching for googlewhacks. One thing I dug up was that every single site, probably has a googlewhack. Lets see. Its three in the morning, and I am starting to do this. ]

2:58 am

1) Tangerine Banana: 612000

2) ferrous platypus 710

3) establishmentarian bonobo 13

4) cardiovascular polyandrous 714

5) promiscuous pteranodon 1580

6) arteriosclerosis nervosa 66100

7) antedivulian parenthesis 0

8) ribosomal synergy 322000

9) mitochondrial boson 125000

10) pulmonary politics 969000

3:07 am

11) epidemiology argus 46200

12) dodecahedron multipolymerase 0

13) latitudinal gastronomy 697

14) mermaid venusian 15600

15) multifaceted burnout 80900

16) dimensional prejudices 332000

17) entombed ombudsman 1420

18) lavender samurai 248000

19) segregated metamorphosis 58900

20) endocrine paradox 172000

3:12 pm

21) concentrated oscilloscope 170000

22) parabolic anonymity 24900

23) ergonomic expatriate 30100

24) indistinguishable antiestablishmentarianism 142

25) neophyte progressivism 592

26) biblical pesticide 372000

27) unilateral peroxide 116000

28) vasodilation anteaters 219

29) triassic marauders 709

30) nautiloids persephone 18

3:22 pm

31) dehydrated immunoreactivity 352000

32) magnocellular cyanobacteria 235

33) circumstances tracheolar 75

32) refrigerator prehistoric 167000

33) tobacco mastodon 62000

34) giraffe retribution 70100

fuck it

Friday, September 22, 2006

MY incoherent contributions to the eternal debate

read long argument below or answer the question rephrased in this manner: "does the chicken create another chicken through an egg, or does an egg create another egg through a chicken?"

{long argument|and to those who conclusively say that the egg came before the chicken as the chicken was hatched from an egg and only then was a chicken and before that they were all chicken in the making, not evolved chicken... then the question is, did the chicken-egg come first or the chicken. That is evolution is not such a sudden one step process... there would be at least a thousand generations of transitions before a chicken and a near chicken ancestor could be differentiated. In fact, the chicken of our own forefathers are not the chicken of today. If your argument is to be followed, then it goes to prove that chicken don't hatch from eggs at all, its like egg=>chicken=>egg+1=>chicken+1. The thing is eggs have not evolved as much as the chicken... so what really came first is... ? The question would not make sense if it is asked like "what came first, the egg, or any organism that is born out of, and lays an egg?"]

two eggs came... one by getting its cock out and the other by getting its hen out... that is what I am trying to convey

If you are terming all chicken acestors as chicken, then the chicken came first, eggs evolved later in evolution as a modified form of the placenta to keep younger ones safe....

If at the end of the universe, some guy sits and counts all the chicken-eggs ever created and all the chicken ever created, then he would find that there have been more eggs than chicken (evolution: overproduction). After he would do this, if he would distrbute chicken and eggs evenly over time, since there would be more eggs, eggs would have come first. Therefore, statistically speaking, eggs came first.

Note: The accepted scientific answer is that eggs came first as chicken before that were not chicken but chicken ancestors.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Lage Raho Munnabhai

The movie is almost flawless... amazing production values, great story, amazing casting, well chosen guest appearences and cameos, but everything pales in front of the theme, which just explodes right out of the theater. I mean you are sitting at a restaurant, two people bump into each other, say sorry and move on. That's not the influence of the movie, the influence is a guy on ANOTHER table, commenting "In log Munnabhai dekh ke aye kagta hai" (These guys must have just seen Munnabhai).

The film is about Gandhism - without the Gandhi. There was a show on headlines today, congress seemed to be very please with the movie, and they were discussing whether Mahatma was a sad thing they did to Bapu. I don't care, and HT got it wrong... Gandhi is totally out of the equation... he just gave the ideology, and then vanished. Its our respnsibility to see if this ideology is a better option... that's all the movie says, and it does this in the most amazing way. It shows how one can be a gandhivadi in practical, everyday situations, like choosing a good boyfriend, or being faced with curroption, or people who spit too much. Each scene in the movie is a challenge to gandhism that is faced by the chars in the movie. And the most amazing thing is that they conclusively show that this philosophy is within all of us, we just need to look inside our hearts to find it. Amazing movie.

People are however still suspicious of anything with a political color on it, and the movie will be hated by a few unnecessarily because of people who will say this has come out as a gimmick close to the blast trials, and be suspicious of the congress being so happy about this movie. The opposition can however not say anything, even if all of this is true, because the movie is NOT political in the remotest sense. Must watch. Probably going again.


Just moo it

errr... you get the picture

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

So there!

Ok... one at a time please... there isnt enought to shove it all in. what? I donno. You tell me. There are enough to go around, but they all come to ME. Every single fucking thing. What is the experiment? I dont know. I am just tested. Tested to see how well I can eschew the trend. And the trend? That is tested too... to see how worthy it is... how quickly it can spread. And how quickly can it spread? I dont know. The results are not out yet. In fact, someone lost track of the whole experiment long ago and began to spew nonsense. I am not doing it. I am blogging. Same difference. Hey, if I didn't make you think, that's your fault. Dont blame me, I was just releasing some weird energy that absolutely required me to post something here.... my fingers were dying to type. What? I don't know. I am still doing it. Do my fingers have a brain of their own? I don't know. Have I come into relatively rational thought? Yes. Have I gained the ability to let my consciousness loose? No. Have I lost it? Yes. Will I try and go there again? Yes. This is not the experiment. This is another line of parallel thought which is about to be revealed to a lot of random people with no lives, but most importantly, me. No speculation is involved, no forethought in the formation of these sentences. No delibrate effort in their malformation either. Damn... the mind returns to organised thought pretty soon. I have really lost it. Will try again. This is fun to do. Here goes. Two seconds of blankness... then... off I go... stabs. Stabs are irritating. You have no clue from where they show up, but they invariably do. The work of an artist is probably relevent because of the amount of ex

phone call. Bye. Pics later.

Monday, September 18, 2006


Like one of the freakiest things about the whole time flowing backwards idea (basically scientists have come up with this concept that all the dark metter in the universe, regions of extreme darkness, are all areas where time actually flows the other way around... which means everything unhappens in these regions) is the devolvement or the undevelopement of the consciousness... it would be a wonderful feeling, for example, read, and then untype this post, and then make my fingers hover over the keyboard in thought whule I (un)think about how to (un)express my thoughts before (un)writing this post. It would also be cool, for example, to say, read a poem after you appreciate the significance and the beauty of the peom, and at the end (or beggening) of the un-reading, you will end up forgetting about all the complex thoughts the poem managed to bring about! In fact, the thought has never occured to you in the first place, it is something that is bygone... err... it is something that will happen, but you wont expirience it because your life is being played backwards. I am precisely talking about thinking backwards... and all the interesting things that will be a fallout to this interesting things like solutions will dissolve into problems, technology will all run backwars, with sucessive models ofsay iPods having lesser features than the previous, the entire civilisation will climax in cavemen undiscovering rire and running back up the trees... and probably heading back into the water as well, and finally unbirthing into small one celled creatures. Too comlicated to think about?

Actually, this way around, life will actually be simpler. Unthink about it. Even in this time's arrow, if you unget what I mean.


New Orkut Dp.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

The Unshow - episode II

Watch the video
fake promise to be regular from now on... too many problems in the makin, but now will use original animations mostly... this was too funny for me... so presenting...

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

You know you are spending too much time away from home when:

1) You wake up and feel disoriented after seeing your own room arond you

2) You dream of the familiarity of your own toilet

3) You feel a jolt of longing everytime a song in your winamp playlist plays anywhere else

4) Your bed is used as a spare cupboard - by the rest of the family

5) You have to google your bookmarks all over again

6) Home cooked food tastes exotic and delicious

7) You take wrong turns to the loo in the middle of the night

8) You forget where the switches for the fans/lights are

9) Being able to do all those things you do when you are alone in the room

10) You start missing, longing for, and realising the importance of things you never even noticed before... like the particular comfort of your favorite rug, the arrangement of your PC, the size and shape of your television, and the joy of not seeing someone else struggling with the keys...

Tuesday, September 12, 2006


Simple thing really, but am trying to make the same impact the thought had on me, so: A thought Experiment: Imagine every one on the planet dedicated to one task. A task of making something immortal. Not converting something that is bound to die out, but just but creating something new that will be immortal. Now imagine, every single person given this responsibility, and their entire lives being played out only to achieve this end. It takes so long to create that generations come and go and the work carries on. Now imagine people lose their sense of responsibility and botch up. They waste too much time fighting, or stress to much on religion, or anything that YOU personally feel are major problems to the evolution of this society. Now imagine, every single word here being true. Its our history man.

Monday, September 11, 2006


Its ok for one guy to bear the burden of his expirience... but for Mankind to be pre-occupied with history, and almost all of which they had no role to play in, is just fucking stupid. Its not even a problem that we spend so much time chasing these questions, but it is that we require more than a practical idea of our past, we are attempting the impossible to create a real picture of something that is lost to and on us by trying to figure out a veritable mess despite knowing that most of it is distorted and that it was written by the winners. What we understand of our past and the part of our culture that relates to it will be elusive anyway... I am not saying that we should stop seeking answers because we know that they are all going to be wrong a little into the future, what I am saying is that we dont need to place undue emphasis on things that dont really matter, and let it affect our personal lives, or the lives of people we have undeserved control over... Comemmorate the national song, celebrate Shivaji's birthday on this day, was Jesus really God's sun, did the Ramayan really take place...

The distortion theme works well... like Chaos Theory applied to history you know... a Butterfly efectish movie called the noise of time or something.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006


Nice topic... heavily loaded word and has a lot of meaning attached to it which will make you expect something really mind boggling. Fucks to you... a revalation can be that the guy picking his nose in the train has to indulge in it - it relaxes him and more importantly, his nose is full of shit which is better out than in, lest flecks of it fly out and meet your tongue in the middle of the conversation. Ofcourse, a truer realization would be never to talk to people digging their noses because they will rpobably have loosened all the shit in their noses and it is likely to fly out...

The realization here, is however that drinking is commonly percieved as a nusience, if that is how the fucking word is spelt. Just came back from a small adventure with a long story behind it. No doubt the people actually involved can relate it better, but they are in no condition to blog, and are all hopefully safely home, which, I doubt. What happened was that a bunch of guys got shit drunk (long history involving various extravagant and probably made up love lives, all stemming from a general frustration), realized that one of their homes they were gonna crash in was not free after all (long history involving obscure plans about Pune made by the parent of one of the boys, which got cancelled, because of another long history behing it)... and all of them were stuck at checknaka with nowhere to go...

I got a call and this is where I fit into the drama. I did nothing but send them all home in various states of drunkenness, but it was funny/sad/ and more importantly, here the title fits in, and damn realisational (if that is a word) that drunk people make utter fools of themselves. The rickshaw driver was laughing, so were all those chindi people who man those chinese food corners, and frankly, so was I. Sorry to say, but it was funny.

This brings into perspective all the times I have been drunk. Fortunately, most of my friends were not too cruel to me and were pretty nice to me, but everyone thinks drunkards are gonners, and it is pretty much true... cannot blame them. All I have to say is this... whatever pleasure you can get while laughing at a drunk is not in the least bit comparable to the pleasure the drunk gets laughing at you. Cheers.

Pune. Visarjan. Booze. Tomorrow. Cheers.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006


I am terribly bored and sleepy. So what will I do? Write another story about being bored and sleepy? Nyah. No way. No chance in hell. In fact, I probably wont write a poem at all and relate instead, an anecdote, however uninteresting, for the sake of fuelling my dead blog along. Now I am saying this for forks sake, and have no interest beyond the matter that for some reason, all of this actually happened (though you will soon find out that what happened wasn't sufficienty great to be given this not-so-great -ut-still-trying-hard buildup)... ok I have lost the thread of the sentance, and a little more of my precious sleep, eyelids being the portal to a pretty damned fucked dimension... for later use.. anyway, so forks... there was a fork at this place where you get wraps and I stuck it in my head after being inspired By John Abraham who once mistook a feather for a fork, or so I believed. either way I was moving around looking like John Abraham, and a friend and I were discussing the innovative uses of a fork. Our combined cranial efforts resulted in: 1) To stab someone 2) Comb 3) retina stealer for high security entrances 4) Toothpick 5) Nosepick (other end) 6) Earpick 7) Scratcher aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand 8) eating. what the fuck. Now am in the mood to write a poem. Something that will be critiqued as a contemporary attempt to experience the power of the internet to mentally stagnate everyone into thinking the same things through the medium of poetry. On that literary note, to which I will return to in a short span of time, after a detour into examining the use and effects of cliches, I now make a short and unnecessary detour into the examining the use and effects of cliches. One: Make movies/ Novels/ Stories and Songs ADHERE to cliches as much as possible. The art is not in the creation of new forms, but in the depiction of the cliches. If you have any doubts on this one - Shakespeare, played with Cliches only. To give a more recent example, all of Jeffery Archer's stories are full of stupid cliches... told in the most amazing manner ever. Deviation from the cliches makes the movie weird, difficult to grasp and uninteresting. Ah screw that, detour done, back to the point where I write the poem afterall, it had a point, but I forgot, so I will write a totally different poem about something contemporary in as different a manner as possible. The poem is titled 'why the zeros walked in line'.

God Said
Let there be light

My literary endeavors are hampered by the fact that a call came right now by a friend who has crashed out at checknaka. Bastard is so fucking tully that he cant move and he is talking in weird ways. Will catch him and will be back. Cheers to people.

Sunday, September 03, 2006

I thought I lost this piece of shit

Ok so way back in first sem, our first assignment was to write something about life... The assignment I was given was “life is like the waves of the ocean which takes you to new lands” or something like that. Because of obvious widespread protest, the topic was changed to “life is like…” I came up with some boring old thing that culminated in the words “life is exactly all about finding out what exactly life is all about... and we had to write a lot of it in around fifteen minutes... two pages to be precise, and the impression it created for my class was mostly derived out of this attempt, along with a certain fateful party, but this was the first. And a year later, I was asked to speak the same shit out, but I couldn't, and now I found the original. Without further ado (except to note that I am no longer proud of this, and never found it clever):

Life is…

Life is a four letter word – S-H-I-T. Life is like shit, because you get flushed. You influence the color and texture of other lives in your journey. You also get influenced by the color and texture of other lives. The more you move towards the end of your journey, the less do other lives influence you. About midway through your journey, you achieve a consistent color and texture in your life, which you will retain for the most of your remaining journey.
At the fag end of your journey, you become diluted and uninteresting and begin to lose your essence (smell). Finally, you come out of the drainage system and are swallowed up by the vast ocean. This is probably why some people feel that life takes you to the shores of distant lands like the waves of the ocean.

Saturday, September 02, 2006

yet another one before the bed

Sometimes when I look at the sky at night, even when it is cloudy, sprinkled all over the place are these tiny dots of light... imagine, that is all our ancestors ever saw of those lights, even as the enormous fusion globes emitted the light we see when they were walking this earth. The sheer magnitude, not of the cosmos, THAT can never really get to anyone, but the size of each of the small dots of light can be appreciated with some mediocum of imagination. The night sky is not starved of suns. This is probably the fourth poem written when I am sleepy: The eternal stars silently spy/ and crickets croak in their keep/ all the lights flicker and die /my eyelids droop for want of sleep. Owls wing their ways softly by/ the mellow moonlight boldy gleams/ in the deep of the twilight sky/ and my mind tires for want of dreams

Friday, September 01, 2006


Orkutting is fun, but sleep is better. Like there is nothing like longing to sleep so hard to inspire poems about longting to sleep hard. The third one so far: again, no br tages embedded: Thoughts don't enter your dreams/ Insomnia keeps them free/ but let that deep slumber/ search my dream for me. My insomnia searches for me/ of that slumber deep/ where I'd be free of thoughts/ of falling fast asleep. I enter that deep slumber/ where thoughts are set free/ In search of those dreams /my insomnia keep from me.