Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Nylon stockings

Bloomingdale was a teddy bear with a lot of gumption. He would take the most arduous punches from Miss Kitts and not utter a squeak. Oh yes! He was very well respected for it too. Everyone from the pink teaspoons of the Tinklen tea-set to the Sergeant Shackleboot from Miss Kitts' brother's army men admired and respected him. It was all hunky-dory, till he burst a few stitches at the seam. Life was almost as smooth as the honey in his friend Pooh's honey jar.

Then 'it' happened all quite suddenly, really. Miss Kitts was having one of her sleeping over friends, over. And decided to celebrate the night with a bang - a pillow-y bang, or rather a banging of pillows, or to put it more plainly, a pillow fight. Bloomingdale was, as usual, at hand. So he got flung with force that was actually meant for a much fluffier pillow. The cast iron grill on the east window was a tad rusty and it scratched open the seam on one of his paws. Oh bother! What was he going to do now?

It would soon be the time for the evening of the first snowflake. He had been all ready to be wrapped up in his red and orange striped scarf and get singed when thrown too close to the fireplace. Oh, how he loved the flickering warmth - it hurt a little - the singeing, but mostly the warmth was nice as was the Miss. He was just a little scared of the fire but he was covered with special non-inflammable fur, so he was safe. But now, he had icky white fluffy thing peeking out of his paw. Eeew! How hideous! How could he show his paw in high society in such a condition.

Everybody was concerned about Bloomingdale's paw. Mrs. Tinklenot suggested that he should use a Play-doh plaster to patch the paw. But Play-doh does not stick very well on the fur. He guessed tea kettles did not get very bright ideas. Sergeant Shackleboot suggested that he use the bayonet of one of his men to pin the ripped seam together. But the bayonets were not detachable from the rifles, which were in turn not detachable from his men. It was a tad embarrassing to walk with soldiers dangling around one's paw and very impolite to say the least. No. Bloomingdale wanted a more genteel solution to his problem. A more elegant solution. Something that oozed finesse.

He was pondering on this rather distressing situation with his muzzle buried in his forepaws when he heard old man Santa grumbling something about out-of-reach-stockings being hung by petty parents of callous children. Stockings! Why of course! Stockings! All he had to do was to put on a pair of stockings and that would hide the burst seam. And it was just by pure chance, that the Miss had forgotten her pair of bear-brown stockings from last year at the back of the toy closet. Bloomingdale was ecstatic.

He could not wait for the warm, cozy evening of the first snowflake. Even the dancing fire did not scare him now. After all he even had his nice orange-red striped scarf and exquisite contrast matched bear-brown stockings to show off now. Such lovely, shiny, nylon stockings.

Monday, November 12, 2007

The Pale Blue Dot

For everybody who had trouble understanding my previous post.

For more information please visit Pale Blue Dot (Wikipedia). And for a better resolution version, visit here.

Before some one argues that this is making the Earth seem inconsequential, in the grand scheme of things - think before you put your foot in your mouth. Think what that image shows. Think how special, how fortunate we are. Also, think how fragile and how delicate. I do not want to take sides here and put down seekers of extraterrestrial life or believers of God or anybody else. I just want to say, what I have been saying since the previous post. We have only one chance, one life to live in this place we share with millions of our kind. Whatever be your nation, religion, language or shoe-size, we are all humans. Whether we believe the Earth and humankind to be of miracle of divine creation or of evolutionary biodiversity, it does not matter. We do not have a second place, to call home.

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Friday, November 09, 2007

Freedom Writers

Sometimes we do not see the world around us as it is. Sometimes we see only what we want to see. Sometimes we see what we have been taught to see. For generations.

I have laughed on people who have never read Tintin. I have ridiculed people who have never heard of Industrial Light and Magic. I cheated and read the last page of Diary of Anne Frank before I actually finished the novel. I cheated some more and never actually finished it.

I am watching a movie called Freedom Writers. Now almost as unspoken policy, on this blog, I never write about anything remotely social, political or something that stands up for anything. I have never championed a cause here. Why? Well, one primary reason is that I am too lazy.

But every now and then... every now and then... even the most laziest part of me will be moved to action (ummm... don't start wondering which part that is). This is one such time.

Someday, I am sure each and every one of you will face a dilemma. A situation that will ask you to overcome everything you've ever known and learn to love another human being for just being that, for just being another human being.

Yes, I am preaching. I may appear pompous and condescending, and say things I know nothing about. So if you have a problem with that, then there is something very simple you can do. No, not break your monitor. No, not kill me either. Simply stop reading this blog post. See, it's easy. Like I said.

But I am so fed up of seeing such petty idiotic discrimination happen everyday around me in the world, I can't take it any more! (The `not taking' it is going to last only for the duration of this post and after that laziness wins again!)

Black against white against yellow against brown. Fat against fit against thin. Women against men against children. Lesbians against gays against heterosexuals. Muslims against Jews against Hindus against Christians against Atheists. Creationists against scientists against artists. Teachers against students against administrators. Lawyers against politicians against valentines. Oui against yes against Da against Si. And so ad infinitum.

I am making no claims to be better than the next guy or girl. I have my own prejudices to take care of. But I am going to offer you my hand. No! Not in marriage! Heavens! What are you thinking!

I offer it to you as a sign of mutual respect and as a promise. A simple promise of tolerance.

Thursday, November 08, 2007


How long does one have to bang on a door before one realizes that the door will never open again? I used to like open doors. I used to like the open. I always thought the feeling was mutual.

Grey walls choke a 7 feet by 10 feet space. Glossy plaster peeling off like scabs, covers the walls from corner to corner. The gloss reflects the lost rays of the setting sun, streaming into the room through the ventilator high-up on the west wall. The sound of the ceiling fan slashing the stale air in the room is the only thing competing with the sound of my erratic breathing.

She met me because she thought I was this melancholic, sombre guy. She had this fascination for sad souls. When I turned out to be a happy clown instead, she went into shock. A shock that lasted ten years. A shock that curiously, nurtured nothing but hope. How could I be sad around her?

The ceiling fan drawls slowly, like I do now. At the end of every sentence, every word. It's the drug they inject into me every week. It is to keep me calm, they say. I do not understand. It has been four days since the last shot. I am calm. Very calm.

When a shock wears off, the effect I guess, is unpredictable. Celine was singing," If that's what it takes" into my ears as I walked in. I was a little late than usual. The budget meeting had taken too long. The neighbour's chihuahua, Biscuit, was yelping in their yard. I remember reminding myself to trim the grass over the weekend. The brass doorknob felt strangely cold, even though the setting sun gave it plenty of attention. Twilight was especially beautiful from our porch. I stood there, with one of my feet inside the half-opened door.

The bed feels strange and hard to touch. The white bed sheet is crumpled. Why is it crumpled? The bed is not placed right. I hate the screeching noise, when I drag the bed. The floor is... slanting. I hate slanting floors. I always fall off, out of the door if I do not hold onto the leg of the bed. I don't want to fall anymore. The door. If I can only get it to open. I can escape this. Somebody! Open the door. Open the door! Somebody stop her.

Sunday, November 04, 2007


"Lots of confusion sometimes brings lots of clarity in its wake. Much like a storm brings peaceful seas. That is the one motivation for weathering the storm in fact," Michail said.

Elena just looked at him and smiled. Her crooked, half twitched lips made for the most alluring smile. At least that's what Michail had told her. She saw the navy blue checked cotton shirt he was wearing with a navy blue tie - from Ralph Lauren obviously. She nodded her head as if to shake the thought away. "Why is he not wearing a belt?"

"That is why when the boss said that I have to do the Lansdown account also, I thought to myself, maybe a promotion is somewhere on the cards. Of course, that was after I wanted to beat him up first thing in the morning, but one can't really do that to bosses. It's like the bad boss you get on the final level of Wolfestien - you know - you can empty all your bullets and you still wouldn't be able to kill the guy. You know why? The damn game is built like that. One just can't win."

She looked at the brunette who walked by. "Nice. Must be a size more than me. I wonder how the satin sheets would feel on her?" Her auburn hair caught the sun like a fly in a spider's web. The heels were not making the type of click she liked hearing on the road. "Hmmm.... maybe the Christian Louboutin's she saw last week would sound better. No, they would sound perfect in fact but they will tear up the satin bed sheet. Oh well, one can't have everything."

"That's why Elena, that's why am I so crazy about you... you don't care if I win or lose." He wrapped his arms around her waist a little tighter than usual as if to make sure that she was really there with him. "I am so excited Elena. Sis has been wanting to meet ever since I told her about you. I hope she likes you."

"Oh yes, my darling! I hope she likes me. I so hope she likes me."