sometimes I feel I don't need love
I really don't

because love is an antidote
to loneliness

... and I am not lonely
I am alone

and so we play this game called life
no spectators, only players
you and me
all of us

as with every game
if the losers don't play
the winners won't win

but sooner or later
the champion will falter
and the underdog
will have his day

but the game is still lost

for its only really won
when you don't have to play anymore

This is for someone, who, if it weren't for her love and comforting presence, this blog would have died a long time ago.

There was a boy called Blues
who ran the race without his shoes;
but it bothered him none that the race wasn't won,
coz he got a tight hug and a kiss
from a girl called Bun!

Life becomes so much easier
when you accept the fact
that nothing you have
is really yours.

Not even the ones you love

... for they are like the waves
that break gently upon the shore
soaking your feet in their cool embrace
as you walk along the sand
alone.

The Shakti Kapoor story is getting spicier. Like any villain worth his salt, he won't go down alone. Now he's spilling the beans on Subhashji and Yashji, and is talking about the special "grooming" that Preity and Rani recieved ... which of course is why they have become such highly acclaimed actresses.

But you know, reading about this in the papers today, a thought struck me: Women will always be exploited - they have been since the beginning of time, and they will be for a very long time to come. And nothing can change that.

On that thought I happened to remember the Omar Khayam Hotel in Manama, Bahrain. Our school bus-stop was just a few meters away from the hotel's main entrance. It was one of those 2-star places - shady joint; but their food was fantastic ... mostly all Goan chefs. My friend Cliffy's dad was a chef there ... actually we were sure he was just a steward, but Cliffy always insisted he was a chef. Anyway, after the completion of the Bahrain-Saudi causeway, we used to get hoards of Saudis - highly desperate Saudis I should say - coming to Bahrain (Bahrain is an island in the Middle East, btw) on weekends for booze and sex. And the Omar Khayam offered it all - at reasonable rates. On Thursday evenings after the bus had dropped us off, we would usually hang around there for a bit - just passing time - and we would see the Saudi's drive up in their Buick's and Cadillac's; and they would bring the girls with them. It was not uncommon to see a car pull up with 4 or 5 beastly looking buggers and one puny little Filipino girl sitting inside ('group discount' we called it). Many of the girls looked just a little older than us, and on their faces you could see that look of ... well, it was a mixture of fear, desperation and helplessness.

We felt sorry for them. They probably had an entire family back in Manila depending on their earnings, and so they had no other alternative. And we could only imagine what those Saudi's must have been doing to them ... those guys are animals, I tell you.

Truth is: when people don't have a choice, they offer themselves up for exploitation. And there will always be someone happy and willing to oblige.

I think it's a little different with the Indian film industry though ... here you find both parties happy and willing.

.... and they say the casting couch exists for men too. No wonder you have so many John's and Dino's and Milind's suddenly becoming actors.

But instead of targeting poor Shakti, I think the television channels should go after the big boys - the so-called respected, distinguished members of the industry.

.... yeah, I don't think it should be too hard to spot Karan Johar getting it on with ... Shahrukh Khan?

K K K K Karan... thoda dheere se please. Kal subah mujhe shooting pe jaana hai :(

Abey chup bait saaley!! hamesha rota rehta hai .... Kaun jaane? kal ho na ho!

In compliance of a recent order passed by the Supreme Court, we will soon be seeing something like this on all Pepsi and Coca-Cola bottles sold in India.

"CONTAINS NO FRUIT ... JUST A LITTLE PESTICIDE"

You know, when life has given you a hard time every step of the way, you often end up living in a state of constant paranoia.

Whenever anything good starts to happen, you instinctively dismiss it as something temporary. It becomes an accepted fact of your life that nothing good can ever possibly happen to you.

How do you change that? How do you get someone to smell the roses instead of standing back and looking at them from a distance, only because they know for a fact that the roses will wither away in a few days time?

Please tell me because there is this friend of mine who really needs to know.

I often read blog posts by women who talk about how they just can't seem to find the right man .... He should be like this, and like that, and what have you.

Dee made the same mistake. The fact that she has the looks of a fashion model (and presumably the brains to go with it) somehow led her to believe she'd have little trouble finding Mr. Right. But her experiences have taught her otherwise ... Mr. Right has turned out to be even more elusive than good ol' Osama!

She once asked me: "why aren't there any guys like you out there?"
And I said to her: If I were just some stranger you happened to meet at a party, would you fall in love with me?

She just smiled ... she got my meaning.

True love isn't about finding the perfect person; it's about finding perfection in an imperfect person.

Your prefect man, your prince charming ... he exists only in your head. And even if he does happen to be out there somewhere just waiting to be found (it is highly unlikely that he is waiting to find you), locating him will be like looking for a needle in a haystack. And you know what is the easiest way to find a needle in a haystack? -- Setting the hay on fire and then sifting through the ashes.

If you succeed, good for you. But what if you discover that there never was any needle there in the first place? .... I'd say you could do a lot more with the hay than with the ashes.

You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus: One day, long before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all my masks were stolen, -- the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in seven lives, -- I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting, "Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves."

Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear of me.

And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top cried, "He is a madman." I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed my own naked face for the first time. For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, "Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks."

Thus I became a madman.

And I have found both freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in us.

But let me not be too proud of my safety. Even a thief in a jail is safe from another thief.

From: The Madman by Kahlil Gibran

I've been going to gym regularly for the past couple of weeks. I feel strong again. I find my mind works better when I'm in good physical shape; I don't worry about things as much ... and that's because there is this sense of power, which somehow makes me believe that I can handle anything the world throws at me. It feels good to be in control .... even if the feeling is only an illusion.

The guy who was living in the ground-floor flat of our building died late Sunday night. I came to know only today. He lived alone .... and died alone - massive heart attack. He used to leave his door open sometimes .... I could see the place was filthy. He was just 32.

He looked like someone who had given up on life. Unemployed, and with nothing else to do, he would spend his time tending to the plants in the yard behind. I was filled with a terrible feeling of regret when I got the news this morning. For the past month or so, I had been meaning to go down and say hello to him.

I guess he went quietly; without a fight.

***

When we were kids, most of our time was spent getting into fights and destroying whatever took our fancy. If I tell you of some of the things we did, you'd be horrified (and if you're an animal lover, you might want to kill me). Truth is, every damn thing we did had that destructive element to it; nobody ever cared to listen to our problems and show us another way. Fight your own battles was always the answer we got.

But there comes a time when you get tired of fighting .... when you will find yourself turning the other cheek. But you know what: there's nothing like knowing you could return a knock-out punch if the need arose.

Peace, love, and another round with the devil.