Let’s not chat, Parineeti

If you yearn to be good to everyone, you’ll end up failing at to be best to someone. I would rather try being bad to too many if that gives me a handful of finest relations.

You can go and masturbate over the fact that it was a marvellous reunion with your school friends. You may lick your social networking sites’ arses for making this come true. You may wake up every morning and offer mental prizes to the engineers who reduced the suppositions of application like Whatsapp and WeChat to reality. You may also feel proud about being an iconic social being if you want to but just slide down that damn phone in your pocket while you are talking to me.

Have you ever projected a real world analogy of the situation when you are making parallel Whatsapp chat with goddamn six people? If you still feel it’s not rude then I insist you to stop reading and check your phone. Have you ever realized that the person outside your phone talking to you is also a kind of chatting? You do not have to always investigate your phone after every minute in order to not missing out on some “real” conversations. Have you ever even considered the fact that the basic mechanism of a communication is to listen attentively to what the speaker is saying, and to execute a focused speech? Have you figured out yet that talking to six people independently at a time altogether invalidates the point of talking? Do not you feel that the relation, friendship is getting diluted with every pillars of technology you are supporting it with?

If you want to ponder about it, ponder about it or go do whatever the dung you want to do but just slide that goddamn phone inside your pocket while you are talking to me.

A gone green gift

That moron thought he would rip apart the coop with his tiny beaks as if it’s a movie going on. He probably mistook himself as a human who have constituted themselves with the right to freedom. He surely must have been a fool who ruptured his nail while trying to escape. He got his lessons though, he should have got bloodied. More than ten drops of blood bid farewell to his veins through the wounds he himself opened up while assuming come what may, it will lead to his independence.

I mean, how much more stupid can one be? The fool knew he was a birthday gift to that little child and the child wants to amuse himself from outside to celebrate his sense of not being alone at being a victim of dependence. Did the child ask for much? The child also gave him potatoes to eat. And I am telling you the child was a wise one. He only picked the potatoes that were uneatable for humans who have constituted themselves with the right to food. He was really an idiot who was trying to escape from being a birthday gift of such a wise child.

He was so stubborn to go out that not a single minute passed when he wasn’t trying to break free. The only few minutes he sat placidly was after those ten red drops spurted out of his nail. And again after regaining his strength, he got back to his business. At times, clutching a rod in the beak and trying to twist it open, at times, pushing the rods with his claw and pulling the gate with his beak to set it open. He must have been really a very big dunderhead who thought he would actually succeed and that too at that budding age of 25 days.

The parrot died the next morning. And maybe that should have happened to a fool like that. He didn’t realize he might get tetanus or something. Anyways, he was no match to the wise child he was a gift of. You never know, how fool these birds can be. But thank God, the child was done with his amusements, he don’t want another one to disappoint himself in such stupid manner.

MNC-igarette

I am telling you this guy must be a spoilt brat. He has just injected his lungs with smokes of three cigarettes back to back. Sitting alone, hiding from all the probable known ones he could encounter, this man has just adulterated the environment along with his lungs with three back to back cigarettes. I mean, look at us, we, a group of three friends, have come to enjoy the cool breezes at the bank of river Ganga and this man here is sitting alone, hiding from don’t know who and smoking cigarettes.

Anyways, I am really missing our fourth friend. He is a big shot among us now. We always used to hang out at this very same place and used to discuss about matters that would concern us. At times we also used to discuss about things that didn’t have to do anything with us. He would always say about things he would do once he gets a job and all. We were, I mean, the other three of us would just care about a job and he on the other hand would make plans about what he wants to do once he gets a job. He was really very excited about things he would do, once he gets settled. He used to say, once he’ll get a job, he’ll be free from all the social taboos he is handcuffed with and would execute all his dreams one by one. He was a talented boy, I am telling you. It was as if he always knew he would get a decent job and all. And see, he is in a big multi-national company. Big thing. And we are still here enjoying our evenings on the bank of river Ganga.

Anyways, last night I just texted him about what’s new and all and he replied –

“It takes a lot to live in this society

Till the end you’ve to pay the prices

These days I sit alone and fag

To celebrate all my sacrifices”

I don’t know what does that suppose to mean, but I just hope he don’t smoke a lot of cigarettes.

Holi ; coloured faces

Happy Holi to you and all but dear lord how I hate Holi! Yeah, yeah, Holi is the festival of brotherhood and love and all that crap, when even the arch enemies forget their rivalry to neck each other for a new feeling to sprout but dear lord how I hate it!

They play colours that don’t make a sense to me. What joy could one get while colouring another guy’s face? Yeah, finding joy while colouring the face of an opposite gender do make some sense. If they find pleasure over their accomplishment of colouring one’s face, better play cricket or badminton for God’s sake. Probably they feel happy about it because they think they are supposed to feel happy about it no matter how much time they spend while bathing that day and scrubbing their faces to fatality.

But it’s not the colour that bothers me much. It’s what they do afterwards that bothers me. They meet. The hell they meet. They meet people they haven’t given a damn for the entire year and they meet artistically and cheerfully. They don’t have topics to talk about but they meet. They don’t have topics therefore they crack jokes. They crack jokes that aren’t even funny and they laugh like Hyenas on jokes that aren’t even funny. They talk about summers, heat, God, generation and all those topics that are very redundant to talk about and then they crack jokes that aren’t even funny. In fact it’s only the joke that can be new to someone. But even the unheard jokes aren’t funny.

I mean why do they meet? I mean, meet me if you want to but don’t meet me just because you think you are supposed to meet and crack a joke that isn’t even funny.

Anyways, happy Holi and colours and all but meet me with a genuine face, not a coloured one.

J, Q & K

Charlemagne: La Hire, where are you? La hire, are you there? Etienne de Vignolles! I demand you to hear me! Can you hear me?

La Hire: Apologies King but Queen Rachel has put on a lot of weight, a weight enough to abort the birth of every voice. I am beneath her.

Charlemagne: No wonder why I penned my mistress’ name as Rachel.

Rachel: Shut up you dorks! It’s not my weight alone, I am here sandwiched between you and the bloody Ogier the Dane. Charles, it seems like the entire France’s orgasm has to do something with me.

La Hire: Ignore her King. If the majesty demands a conversation with a knave, the knave shall offer his service no matter whom he is sleeping with.

Alexander: Will you both please stop this nonsense? Gone are our armies, gone are our days. Together we are mere bumbling fools here who were just a moment ago brutally thrown and left behind to stare the ceiling and to have a moment for rethinking our lives again by just four of the awfully ordinary guys!

Hector: Ooh! Somebody save me from the mighty Greek, he seems to be upset about something.

Athena: Shut the fuck up guys! Let us not forget our civilization and do good to carry it out well.

Charlemagne: If everyone still remembers, I had something to say at the first place. I think we are highly misunderstood creatures in at least this format. People love us, they eventually get addicted to us but they are ashamed of it and I don’t understand why.

Athena: May be they are not wise enough as say, me.

Alexander: It is because of Poker! I wish I could re-rise to see the demise of the man who designed Poker and left us rolling in the grave of ours!

Hector: And I thought only Achilles overreacts!

David: Oh Jesus! Stop it Hector! Will you elaborate over Poker, Alexander?

Alexander: It is Poker which has ruined our importance. It is the game which parents think their child will ultimately switch to and get crumbled. But what they fail to understand is Poker is not a game played with cards. I mean it is played with cards but the cards are just a tool to carry it. The actual skill one needs to play Poker is the skills of bluffing which at all has nothing to do with cards. So they play with cards but actually they don’t play with it.

Hector: Do all of you get confused about which side you are with?

David: Wait, I see his point. You mean the reason behind our being disliked has nothing to do with us? Poker is just a game of bets and we are just used to put the bets for. If I may give an example, consider a situation where Caesar’s two insane best friends are standing behind him and we just bet upon who’ll stab first. Here, Caesar is just a tool for our game. I got it! Sheer observation Alexander the Great!

Caesar: Et tu David?

Alexander: Exactly! We are like Science. People make the misuse out of us and then hate us! Bloody losers!

Hector: I could only point Dmitri Mendeleev who made out a use of us, bloody Greek!

While all were discussing and pacifying each others’ agony about being the bad company for kids of their age despite of having the hidden potentials of honing one’s mind for ever a voice from inside the cover came, “Guys! Why so serious?”

A poetree

A thought relayed a thought

A thought fathered another

Some thoughts formed a troop

Some went in an endless loop

They forgot to follow a pattern

They grew wherever they could

May be they already knew

The mind had nothing else to do

If an empty mind is a devil’s workshop

The devil must surely be a gardener

Reproducing thoughts is what it has aimed

Or maybe good people’s devils are tamed

But the thought is an unchained eagle

At a range of heights which has flee

The way your thoughts branches out

Your mind is either busy or it is a tree

The rotting race

He picked up his pace in blink of an eye

That skill he has, quite a lot in store

The thought, of running towards the rivals

Demanded and compelled him to exert some more

The rivals were supporting their men with their cheers

And at the same time disheartened him with the roar

His failure would lead him into a moment of humiliation

A humiliation, he isn’t allowed to ignore

He has to walk till the end no matter what

Bathing in all the slangs his rivals have to pour

He has planned how he’ll deal, if he loses

Against all the patter, he is going to snore

His momentum apparently is not quite enough

Or maybe upon his efforts, this idea has an outscore

Conclusively he has given up a well started chase

The ball ran to the boundary all the way for four