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Showing posts from July, 2016

Quote of the Week

"She thought she heard a sound behind her -- fragile, skittering. Amelia 
turned. The sound had stopped. She felt a chill move up the backs of her legs. "It's He Who Kills," she said with a smile."
- Richard Matheson | Prey

Prey is a short story by Richard Matheson which later became a part of Trilogy of Terror, a made-for-television horror film. Gripping and chilling Prey tells the story of a bewitched tribal doll haunting a woman stuck in her apartment.


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The first time I laid my eyes on you you were probably a few weeks old. Little, feeble and yet so full of life. Your right front leg was a little twisted hence you could not run as fast as your other four siblings. You were always the last one to reach your mum whenever she would come to feed you people. I don't know why out of five you caught my attention the most. Was it because you were the weakest one? Or was it your black and fawn complexion that stood out among the whole bunch? I don't know. But before I knew it, you were my favourite one. I used to separate you during the mealtimes because you were too weak to eat from the lot. You knew it. You people always know it, don't you? Love speaks a more unrestrained language in your world.

The first time I noticed who you were, I was quite amazed by my own realisation. I knew people would laugh at me, but yet I was dying to share my newfound discovery with someone so badly. I told my mum but she laughed at me. I had expec…

Quote of the Week

"The most important thing in life is to learn how to give out love, and to let it come in."
His voice dropped to a whisper. " Let it come in. We think we don't deserve love, we think if we let it in we'll become too soft. But a wise man named Levine said it right. He said, 'Love is the only rational act.' "

- Tuesdays with Morrie | Mitch Albom

A sports columnist (the author himself) and his 78 years old ex professor, Morrie Schwartz suffering from a terminal disease (Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis) - Tuesdays with Morrie is a memoir of their conversation during Morrie's final days. Published in 1997, the book topped New York Times Non-Fiction Bestseller of 2000.

Tidal Wave

Sometimes I get this edgy feeling inside me. That I love you so much that my heart can barely contain it. I might be sitting in my room re-blogging my marvel fandoms on tumblr. I might be in office, being drowned in the chaos around me. I might be out with my friends, laughing at foolish jokes. Then that restlessness hits, like a sudden surge of a big tidal wave that I didn't see coming, the one that tumbles you over and you land up on your face, like a silly toddler. All of a sudden I can hear your voice, whispering into my ears, telling me how much you love me. The butterflies in my stomach begin to flutter so much that I go breathless. I fear somebody might notice my flushed cheeks, and my sheepish smile. I feel like running out, go stand in the middle of the street and scream my lungs out. Yesssss!!! I love you!!! Bloody hell I love you!! I have loved you all my life!! Where have you been all this time when I was getting my heart broken by morons?! Oh yes look at me everyone! …

Colour Palette

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Parallax Error

If there was an award for mastering the art of falling into the trap of wrong timing, I would irrevocably and irretrievably bag it. There was a time when it used to feel mortifying (it still does sometimes) and sad as well. But as it happens in most cases, when the tragedy goes beyond the limit of normalcy it turns satirical. So my life has now become one good, old saga of Shakespearean drama with a dollop of black comedy – so many erroneous decisions and cataclysmic events following it that it would actually make the audience question the sanity of the protagonist.
After a long time I was out to join the weekend crowd of the aam aadmi brigade (I’m in no way a follower of Kejriwal, please I am yet to becomethatinsane) and soak up all the fun and frolic before another sinfully boring week took another bite off my already decaying soul. Five minutes into it, and I realised my mind had pathetically but not quite surprisingly abandoned me, and it was out on its own wild goose chase. So for…

Quote of the Week

''Nonsense,'' said Tuppence. ''One must have hope. It's the great thing you have to have in life. Hope. Remember? I'm always full of hope.'' ''I know you are,'' said Tommy. He sighed. ''I've often regretted it.''
- Agatha Christie | Postern of Fate

The first and hopefully the only book by Christie that totally let me down till date. Published in 1973, Postern of Fate is the adventure of the detective couple Tommy and Tuppence during their post-retirement life. An old house, a room full of old books and an age old village gossip about a death - Postern of Fate starts with an intriguing prospect of suspense and adrenaline rush, but the climax fails to live up to the expectation. However the quirky duo and their antics keep the reader hooked on till the last page.


Sometimes I wonder If you are real Or I was just so hopelessly In love With the idea of my Perfect man That you manifested yourself From my thoughts
You are perfect You are so perfect with your Amorous words And poignant silence That it is unnerving You are the Heady, intoxicating fragrance That I can only feel But can’t touch I can’t feel your warmth in my arms I can’t touch your lips With mine I can’t whisper in your ear And see How your shiver with Sweet agony Of pleasure You laugh at my joke But I can’t see How mirth Ripples through the creases Of your weather-beaten face And touches the eyes You are the Surprise treasure To my penniless heart I am elated And equally petrified As I have no shackles No safe No hidden chamber Where I can keep you Out of harm's way All for mine And never have to feel Empty again.

The Killing Conundrum

Last week had been quite an ordeal to me. No weekend outing in a while and I was feeling I was going to die of boredom and overthinking. The extra two days’ leave was not in the cards and it felt like bonus to my already piled up misery. And I was not feeling quite right after having a nasty row with one of my few closest friends, or to be precise, one of the handful of people that have survived the test of time, and well, me. Then I had to put up with forced conversations with a few people whose guts I hate to the core. The one person who could make me feel better was away too, so I was feeling like a ticking time bomb. I had two options lying before me. Option one, procrastinate and feel miserable. Option two, utilise the time and feel miserable anyway. I usually feel quite garrulous (inside my head obviously) when I am alone as well as lonely. The words begin to jostle up in my tiny, little head and it gives me a feeling of throbbing pain until I puke them out. One of my most arden…

Quote of the Week

"She wuz depressed. Yeah, she wuz on stuff for it. Like me. Sometimes it jus' takes you over. It's an illness," she said, although she made the words sound like "it's uh nillness."

Nillness, thought Strike, for a second distracted. He had slept badly. Nillness, that was where Lula Landry had gone, and where all of them, he and Rochelle included, were headed. Sometimes illness turned slowly into nillness, as was happening to Bristow's mother...sometimes nillness rose to meet you out of nowhere, like a concrete road slamming your skull apart.

- Robert Galbraith | The Cuckoo' s Calling

The Cuckoo's Calling was the first of the detective novel series by J. K. Rowling featuring her amputee ex-military sleuth Cormoran Strike. The title of the book was taken from a poem by Christina Rossetti, A dirge. Dirge is a kind of funeral eulogy poem. The novel was published in 2013 under the pseudonym of Robert Galbraith - named after her favourite hero Robert…

On the Birthday of My God

Date - 6th of July, 1935. Place – Takster village in the Amdo province of north-eastern Tibet. It was the fifth day of the fifth month in the Wood Pig year as per the Tibetan calendar; a new member joined the big family of Choekyong Tsering and Diki Tsering. It’s a boy this time. The Tserings brought sixteen children to earth, only seven survived. The newest addition to their family was named Lhamo Thondup – Goddess who accomplishes all wishes. Little did the poor farmer family know that this boy was going to be the global icon of peace and humanity during the most vulnerable time period in the history of mankind. That he would be known to the whole world as Jetsun Jamphel Ngawang Lobsang Yeshe Tenzin Gytaso – His Holiness the Fourteenth Dalai Lama.
One of the most extraordinary traits of Tibetan Buddhism is their deep-rooted faith in the theory of reincarnation – a soul takes multiple births until it reaches the Nirvana. And only a truly enlightened one can achieve Nirvana – the one…


Last week while returning from office my blank, tired eye caught the sight of some unusual activity going on amidst the usual, everyday picture. One unfinished pandal, few scattered flex boards, workers eating lunch on the roadside. And three empty chariots sitting in the middle, side by side, waiting eagerly for the respective occupants to board. Ratha Yatra is almost here. I turned my face inward and started telling my colleague animatedly how my pseudo-secular (Screw them. Let’s call them hypocrite bastards) friends had expressed their best wishes of some festival of some other religion that had happened to fall on the same day and how I had wished them a very happy Ratha Yatra in return.
However, eventually I couldn’t help but express my true intention behind bringing up the whole story. “My god, it’s been a year already! How time flies.” What I tried to say though, look a year has passed and I’m still stuck at the same place. There is hardly any change in my life. Even Lord Jaga…