To the lost one

December 24, 2010 § 1 Comment

I was lost in the water
I went to the edge of the sea
you were the North I was chasing
wish you had believed in me.

I was going around in circles
and you were never in view
for a lot more days in that year
I wanted to be with you.

We were hanging to the thread of love
I was not afraid it would give in
I said I will always live for this feeling
the baiting touch of your cold skin.


Sometimes I need to put gross on my blog..

December 22, 2010 § 2 Comments

When I look into your eyes
I can see a nun restrained
Remember when I told you
There’s a beast in you untamed.

Cause fidelity doesn’t last forever
As we both know what happened to Assange
It’s impossible to withhold the cable
When in Afghanistan missiles rain.

We’ve not been together for a long long time
Just trying to tell you about the relationship strain
Lovers come and lovers go
But you will be remembered for the sweetest crotch pain.

So if you want to love me
Then darling don’t refrain
Or I’ll just end up believing
It’s the same old menstrual pain.

I know it’s hard to really read my heart
When with all your friends I have a history
But I swear it to the just concluded fart
It was your BFF who gave me the acne

So never mind the darkness
Some electricity bills I am yet to pay
This wouldn’t be so forever
Since Dad’s car is now up on eBay.


December 14, 2010 § 5 Comments

Your eyes are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises with two others to keep
And a third to kiss before with you I sleep.

Richard Marx redux

December 6, 2010 § 3 Comments

Two drinks, day after day
and my tongue goes profane
those twenty odd sticks today
didn’t alleviate the lingering chest pain

If I lay you next to never
how can we stay attracted forever

Wherever you go
whoever you do
I will be right here boning someone but you
however many drinks it takes
or having to take a lot of work breaks
I won’t be anywhere waiting for you

I won’t remember all the times
You managed to come and cry both somehow
my post coital cigarette, your choke and tears
driven me so far away from you, and how

Oh how couldn’t you see it baby
we were meant to be, but some other life may be

I don’t remember

December 5, 2010 § 3 Comments

What this place used to be like
and those people I met
warm, fuzzy and nice
together we sketched a fine vignette.

That subscribing to feeds
or hitting refresh
hoping to see a new post
from friends of the online flesh.

Miss those long conversations
about the subtle implications that were never expressed
that waiting for the co-blogger to come online
when real life as a concept was as good as dead.

The tiny moments of bursting joy
after a new comment
the time I wasted day dreaming
wondering if the next composition be advent or lament.

Where are you lost
friends bonded over a bunch of words
your spaces exist in vain
unless your excuse is lost passwords.

In which I (re)discover I have a blog – 2

December 3, 2010 § 3 Comments

I am down with sinus. Again. It is one of those things one just can’t get used to. Almost like marriage (or differently sized testicles for that matter). You know it’s going to stay with you forever, and will be a pain in your ass time and again and make you feel all flustered and disabled, but you still gotta live with it. It’s another story that I feel like an outcast whenever I step out of the house, with all the protective layers on me trying to keep the cold out and I run into an off-shoulder garment wearing non-stick non-touchable hot girl with hands in the pockets of her shorts and Egyptian sandals. I am one of those men who accept that we are formed by the women around us.

But I have nothing against marriage in principle. In real life I am all for it. In fact just the other day I was riding next to a bus full of pretty and young things from Lady Hardinge Medical College. A flash from the past kinda thing happened as I remembered how I always had a thing for doctors. Basically anything remotely doctorish and female. I used to have these discussions with Maa when I was barely 12 about how I am going be this hot shot Computer Engineer and will land a charming and nice and warm and pretty doctor girl. I have grown out of it after dating a physiotherapist and a PhD (see ..both doctors), but the idea seems to have evolved with Maa whose only purpose in life before she retires from the active house managing life is to hunt for THAT girl. While her zeal for the project kind of scares me some times (because the prospective girl will have to live up to Maa’s expectations before mine), I also have a defense mechanism to ward off possible successful conquests – my Twitter stream. No girl in her mind would want to meet me for prospective matrimonial alliance after reading my tweets. Unless I have got women figured all wrong here.

So I have been watching Californication these days. I would say it is creepy how you can connect so deeply to a character in a TV show, but then one must always remember you are not the only asshole and definitely not one of a kind on the planet. Needless to say I’m all hooked to the series, given there is a naked breast popping out of nowhere every fifteen-odd minutes in every episode.

And I was supposed to give the IIM entrance this year. But I was conveniently in bed snoring my thundering sinus away waiting for the nymphomanical maid kid to come and make some tea. I guess everything happens for a reason. And I am happy not knowing the reason here until it presents itself sooner or later.

Which kind of throws me back in time a little. I remember myself as a very calculated person. You know the putting two and two together kind. While studying for IIT I used to derive the time I can invest to solve a problem after adding all the problems from the exercises across all the study material and dividing it by the minutes to the day of the exam. I was that freaky yes. Things changed a little after I came to IIT, I loosened up with respect to the ideal importance that should have been accorded to lectures and tests. And IIT Delhi was like the perfect place to delusion yourself. It made narcissists out of every Ram, Raheem and Harinder. There was some kind of pride associated with waiting in the bathroom queue behind an All India Rank 7. We went to lectures with some of the most unattractive girls of the nation put together and back in hostel we were exposed to a treasure cove of scripted porn with Casino grade assets women. IIT had the kind of girls you ended up respecting for all the wrong reasons – for writing fastest algorithms, for scoring an A while you bordered on flunking, for being able to talk to you and other men for years completely asexually etc. Anyhow, any more words and I am jeopardizing readership for the book that should be out soon in the next five years or so.

Right now the priority item on my list of to-dos is to get a full medical/dental check up done. I have been royally ignoring my health for a number of years now, despite having had gentle friendly warnings from people around me. I guess that Tata Safari Dicor ad can be blamed for ruining my good sense in this matter. I don’t think I’d like to remember working out in the corner of a shady gym, when I might very well be downing shots of expensive Mexican tequila in that fancy bar at TGIF. I mean comeon you health conscious people are not going down in the annals of history with any more golden words than me.

Anyway, enough with all of that. This felt good. That is what sickness does. Makes you feel vulnerable and then something happens that just turns things around. Like a she friend going all ‘Awwwww’ and planting a more-than-friendly kiss somewhere on your face.

The point is ..I am happy to be writing again. Hank Moody, after all, seems to get all the girls with his words.

The morning after

August 21, 2009 § 3 Comments

I slept soon after writing that depressing post last night and intimating Disha (who had sweetly asked me to not be an ass and continue blogging) about the addition. Negativism characteristically dispirits me. Couldn’t bear to push my few readers through the same too.

So probably after a huge sense of guilt, I woke up at 4 in the morning. Partly also because I felt something brushing against my right hand which I think was royally twirled over my head beyond the bed post and almost touching the floor. Sudden panic is so not good at that hour in the morning, worse when you’re sick and in much-desired deep sleep. The sudden jerky motion that brought the top half of my body ninety degrees closer to the bottom could partially be regarded to the rat infestation in our house for the last few days. As much as I find these creatures cute for all visual purposes, I have no love to rear and nurture and feed the pests. We (hereafter referring to me [@nitinsgr] and my flat mate Nithin K D [@nithinkd]) had managed to catch four of the family with about a quarter of a Parle G in the space of one night. I had no clue about KD’s awesome creativity when it came to murder (too). He lit a smoky fire in an unused earthen pot, kept the catch in the cage over its face, and covered it all with a cloth. Painlessly asphyxiated with a little carbon monoxide. There are about half a dozen more to be caught and executed in similar or smarter fashion. Will keep you posted.

So this friend calls up very early in the morning, having just returned from a Sufi music night, and a shade too moved to sleep. Few minutes into the conversation and I figured (or she confessed) that she was a little horny after the experience and needed some incitement. Okay. I like this new job. Though I remember I conveniently killed her desires talking about my running nose and phlegm and grey cough. Sorry about that girl. Some other time may be.

Also met @ambikajoshi after a gap of two years. She’s grown fabulously hotter and prettier, except for the fact that her getup makes no bones about her being a mixed South Indian. I think somewhere along the long conversation I mentioned her coming across as partly lesbian. And I still think she has the coolest parents ever.

Mamta, my cook has been barging in and out while I’ve been trying to write cribbing about their being no aata in the house for paranthas. She’s the most unsentimental woman I’m likely to meet. None of my jokes work on her. The sneers she would welcome me with in the morning continue till she steps out of the apartment. I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m a nasty human being and if not for the money I pay her, she would cut my spleen out with her swordish hands and gaze.

I’ve taken another off from work today. Dad seems pretty convinced that I couldn’t possibly get swine flu, and so far it’s just a change of weather according to him that’s hit me. I agree with him due to lack of options. I would anyway hate to die after a cardiac arrest (learnt this morning that’s how people with H1N1 are going).

I’ve good reasons to start looking for the next job, as I approach the end of my one year in the present one. Plus a colleague at work did me a psychic reading and claimed my karma in India is almost done with. I was terrified in the way she conducted this session and so I don’t quite believe too much in her foretelling.

We used to have a lot of pretty girls coming in to Mr. Raghu Rai (my next door neighbor, and yes the acclaimed photographer)’s house all the time. I think they did not appreciate me in my expensive Levi’s denim shorts and just that as every morning I lay chase for them in the corridor with tea in an even more expensive Borosil glass. No footfalls any more.

My foot fetish has taken a beating off late. With winter round the corner, I hope the girls will cover up and all that would be left to see and admire will be the bottoms. And whatever has happened to these amazingly hot girls in Delhi! I mean where’s the factory that’s producing them in such huge numbers anyway! In fact I remember a bunch of eleventh grade students from a school for the excessively rich had come visiting us at work for I don’t know what academic reasons; and the girls there! I mean I did not notice when I switched from talking about software and IT to telling one of the girls how pretty her brown streaks looked! There are just not enough men to match up to these growing numbers of desirable women. Sigh.

Okay. Blogging is not a pain after all. I can be interesting. Right? RIGHT?