My Pug Marks

John Howard: Hey Melanie! how u doin my sweet girl? Melanie: Am cool dad, how bout u? JH: This Haneef business is killing me sweety... M: Awww..my poor old dad, take a look at this u wud luv it! JH: Holy Christ, its the new i phone!!! where did ya get this from? M: Rowan's friend sent it for me..as a compliment from USA. JH: But sweety..this works only in US. Those AT & T people are yet to launch it in Australia... M: No worries dad..I've got a special SIM, that guy has links in AT & T u know ;) JH: Oh yea..cool !!! Who is this guy? M: Oh..some 2nd cousin of Bin Laden... John Howard faints... LATER IN A PRESS MEET...

What if it was frozen? All thoughts captured, A bubble still half ruptured. A photographic image, In which I could move alone on the stage. An essence of thought, A scheming plot. A mental siege, Half proliferating disease. A half turned turn, An incomplete burn. Death on face, Embarrassing disgrace. All frozen in time, A resonating chime. What do I see? Common to thee. That all are lost, In incomplete thoughts. Thoughts of time, In quantized packets sublime.

It rains. Washing things down. Putting dirt to rest. Paving new grounds. And a low far away grumble, Of the perturbed world's last fight, From the dark clouds oozes hope... For a determination, immovable and non stop. It rains. It rains to ferment action, From all and sundry, Atoning the sins of cryptic quandry. It rains. Yes, it rains - calming and slow, Not a loud trumpet, But a powerful majestic bellow. Alleviating anonymous thoughts of pain... Finally, it rains.

I don't want any Bush, Nor do I want Laden. I didn't want any Hitler, Neither had asked for Stalin. I don' think UN is doing much, But I don't know much about it as such. I never knew ethanol was a car fuel, Coz I always thought of Brazil as just a soccer duel. Our next prez will be a female - shudn't bother my head, Why shud I care if she talks to the dead? If Henry plays for Barcelona,why shud I think? If tomorrow water boils at 75, why shud I blink? I don't care much about anything much, Still, I want to remain in touch. This is what makes the world what it is, It is as simple as this (Or is it? Why shud I care? :P )

According to dictionary.com, bias is “a particular tendency or inclination, esp. one that prevents unprejudiced consideration of a question; prejudice.” From the same source, an opinion is “a belief or judgment that rests on grounds insufficient to produce complete certainty or a personal view, attitude, or appraisal.” This, in my opinion (or should I say bias?) is a definition at a macro level. I would like to opine (or be biased) more towards saying that any sort of opinion is but a bias towards the consideration of a question. It boils down to saying, an opinion too, stems out of inclination. As in definition, bias is a tendency or a prejudiced inclination, and an inclination is a belief or judgment, but one that rests on grounds insufficient. If, the grounds for forming an opinion are insufficient, then how is that opinion formed? The answer to this is simple: it is formed due a biased viewpoint that we may have towards that particular judgment of the mind which itself may have cre...

At the IIT flyover red light, I was about to take a right turn to the road I have seemed to know forever. Sri Aurobindo Marg, which eventually would join MG Road to take me back home to Gurgaon. After a "brain storming" session with friends at the Barista, it was time to go home, leaving things undecided yet again. We, a bunch of restless friends, with different aspirations yet similar perspectives, were thinking of moving the inertia that has taken control of our lives. We were planning to do something new, something different and something effective, which would mark our contribution to the society that has given us much, thankfully. So, there I stood, at the red light. Waiting for my turn to turn. Suddenly, I see this little emaciated boy, who comes in front of my car, accompanied with a girl, who is carrying a large bunch of roses, completely withered by the harsh Delhi summers. She hands one of the roses to the boy. He places it right in front of me, on the windshield. B...

I'll wait, For time to pass... For the return of that glance... For that meaning... For that inexplicable feeling... For that memory train... For that touch refrained... For that silent sound... For that freedom bound... For what you are... For that holy star... For that shimmering hue... For that morning dew... For that everything in you... For nothing in lieu... I'll wait... I'll wait for you...