An Ode to Facebook

A dash of blue is all I need,
To keep me glued to the computer screen,
Already I’m thinking whats on my mind,
One which would beget maximum comments of its kind.
A new 'profile picture' would do fine,
If it generates a buzz for a while.
I put a ‘like’ coz my friends ‘like’ it,
If they act smart, how can I be left behind?
I am always connected to my friends, thanks to ‘wall post’;
And once in a while, I give them a ‘poke’.
I send ‘request’s even to people whom I’ve never met,
But that’s just because I want to globally connect.
I sometimes get into my farm just for a change,
But I would prefer ‘mafiawars’ if I want some kind of avenge.
My real world is a lone , distant sky,
But in my virtual world, I am a star to a thousand prying eyes.

A palette of colours

My world was all black and white, till you came. With you came the colours, a vibrant red of love, a soothing yellow of the heart and a peaceful white of the soul.
But you left. All very sudden.
My life is still colourful. Now,its all about a sepia of memories…

The last call..

“Hello hon”, he said in an unsteady voice. “But where the hell are you? I tried so many times but couldn’t get to you”, she shrieked . “Just out on a drive with my friends.”
Suddenly there was blaring of the horn of a truck and a loud screech and everything turned silent..

My first attempt at blackout Poetry

Hi frnz, this is my first attempt at blackout poetry..its not at all good enough to be posted but since this is a first time creation so i thought of posting it....



Wondering if,
Changing anything that has always been there,
Is somehow inevitable.
Spring began,
Only for the deluge to arrive as summer,
And the summer reach their zenith.
In reality, faceless cohorts remain in the shadows.
Life goes on;
Countryside people still live-
Much as they have for the thousands of years.
Life is still the lifeblood of the river.
But man’s essence of existence is that-
Life is hard, but it is best just to give up,
Enjoy the pervasive sense of freedom…


P.S- sorry guys forgot to mention whats BLACKOUT POETRY. Actually its taking a piece of article from a newspaper and striking off words with a marker and retaining some to create a new article. Its actually creation of an art from an existing one.

Slutwalk and its Impact On India

Slutwalk protests started out in Toronto, Canada on 3rd April,2011 and immediately became a phenomenon across the world. It all started out when Constable Michael Sanguenetti, a Toronto police officer, said “women should avoid dressing like sluts in order to not be victimized”, to a group of university students. Slutwalk took the form of a protest march consisting mainly of young women some dressed in ordinary clothing, others mostly dressed provocatively. The whole idea was to challenge the connotation of the word “slut” and the way she dresses had nothing to with her sexuality.
On 3rd April,2011 around 3000 people, mostly women,gathered in Queen’s Park(Toronto) before moving to Toronto Police Headquarters.

Slutwalk Toronto turned out to be an immediate success and received responses worldwide. Soon this protest march spread to other parts of the globe. Next in line was Melbourne where Slutwalk was held on 28th May,2011 followed by Chicago where it took place on 4th June,2011. It was reported that people in Wellington and Auckland braved the chilly weather to make Slutwalk a success(it was held there on 25th june,2011). It has been held across many other cities over the world and received huge responses.

But Slutwalk had its own shares of supporters and critics across the globe. The founders and the supporters of the movement have justified the name by saying that “we want to reclaim the word ‘slut’ and use it in a positive, empowering way. Historically, it has been used by misogynists to degrade women who are sexually assertive – whilst men in the same position have been hailed as ‘studs’ or ‘ladies’ men’. We wish to make it know that women are well within their rights to have consensual sex and to display their sexuality however they like”.
But according to feminists like Gail Dines and Wendy J Murphy : "Women need to find ways to create their own authentic sexuality, outside of male-defined terms like slut." Some popular responses have also questioned the wisdom of using the word "slut," even suggesting that "far from empowering women, attempting to reclaim the word has the opposite effect, simply serving as evidence that women are accepting this label given to them by misogynistic men," concluding "Women should not protest for the right to be called slut". Melinda Tankard Reist, notable for her stance against sexualisation of children in modern pop culture, said: “I believe the name will marginalise women and girls who want to be active in violence prevention campaigns but who don’t feel comfortable with personally owning the word slut." British Conservative MP Louise Bagshawe has objected to SlutWalk "on the grounds that it "lionises promiscuity", which she says is harmful." She also adds "promiscuity is not equality."
Now amid much controversies ,Slutwalk has finally come to India. The Indian version of Slutwalk is better known as Besharmi Morcha. Delhi was to hold the first Slutwalk march in the country at Connaught Place on 25th June 2011,but it was somehow postponed to end of July and still we are in much doubt about it.( Delhi being selected as the venue mainly because girls are most unsafe over here. It is known as the rape capital of the country.) But the burning question is, even though it had a huge impact on various parts of the globe, how much of a success it is going to be in a conservative country like India?
This march is a protest against any kind of sexual violence against women, the establish the fact that they are free to wear whatever they like but without attracting undue male attention. But what should be borne in mind is that our dressing sense is quite different from that of foreign countries. Whats quite natural for them isn’t the same for us. They can well carry of any kind of revealing dress without attracting much attention. But in India even today if we see a girl in a dress,not in sync with the conventional norms on the streets its bound to make heads turn. So if a protest march takes place with girls skimpily dressed girls it would turn more of an eye-candy for the voyeuristic people of the society and an eye-sore for the conservative people,without the actual purpose being served.

Also the march call for girls to wear whatever they are comfortable in. Now with an increasing tendency to embrace western culture, we blindly follow what they do without any aforethought, but how many us would still be comfortable in dressing up in revealing clothes?
Most importantly how many of us are ready to take this bold step against sexual violence? Many of us would not dare be a part of this bold act and would rather enjoy sitting at home and watch all this on the TV instead. Also it hasn’t gained much popularity as it should have. As far as my information goes Facebook Delhi community page has till now got 43 “Likes”.
In a country where female foeticide is still rampant, rape killings and molestation occur day and night be it a burqa-clad woman or a skimpily dressed girl, where the fairer sex still not safe after dark, where her slightest movement is questioned, it would take more than a protest march to change the view-point of the people. We need to fight sexual violence against women with a heavy hand, and Besharmi Morcha would hardly suffice for that.

Source- Google, Wikipaedia.

Random Thoughts....

Its time to say what I didn’t,
Before I go,
Its time to be sorry for what I did,
Before I go,
Its time to forgive you for what you said,
Before I go,
Its time to stop contemplating what could’ve been,
Before I go,
Its time to stop loving you over and over again ,
Before I go,
Its finally time to say GOODBYE,
Before I go…..

Luck By Chance...

Aranya sat in her room fuming and flaming. Her mother came in and took out a blue salwar from her closet, “Beta this one would be perfect. Hurry up, the guests are due any moment .“,she said and rushed up to the kitchen. Everyone seemed to be busy or at least Aranya felt so. Mom had been busy tidying up the room since early morning and now she seemed even more busier in the kitchen. Dad was working on mom’s instructions rushing down to get whatever mom asked for. Nobody seemed to give the slightest importance to her say. This whole affair seemed completely ridiculous to her.
It all started with Rama aunty’s proposal. Rama aunty was their neighbor, a lady in late forties but she was more famous as the over-enthusiastic matchmaker to every prospective girl or boy(I mean the ones who had attained their marriageable age) of the colony. Anxious mothers, waiting to get their son/daughter married off, always looked upto her, but the young people couldn’t withstand her. And it had to do with much more than her being a matchmaker. She was a lady always in lookout for gossips. Any small piece of news she came across and the next day it would be talk of the colony.
And Aranya was her latest target. The other day she had come up to Aranya’s parents and talked of a Mr Xyz she had “at hand” who could be perfect for “our Aranya baby” . Aranya knew nothing of this till she came back from college. And when she learnt that her parents were more than interested and already invited the boy’s family the next Sunday, she was flabbergasted. “But mamma how can you get me married off ? I cant even think of marriage right now. Who bhi ek anjaan ladke ke saath!!! Kabhi nehi.. “,Aranya shouted, fighting back tears. “Beta, me and your dad never knew each other till we got married, but has that been an issue between us. And whats the problem in talking to them,kya pata tumhe ladka achha lag jaye”, mom said and left.
Aranya went by the window side and stood there. This whole idea of arrange marriage seemed so abnormal and unfeasible to her. How could one spend a larger part of her life with some completely unknown person? And she had her dream to chase,a goal to reach,what if the other person didn’t really approve of that? Recently she had a split with Sameer on these grounds only. Sameer and Aranya had been going steady for the past two years. Sameer was an IT professional working in one of the top MNCs . They had shared dreams , small and big. Both of them were quite happy with this relation until one day he got this call from USA. His company would be sending him away to USA within the next six months and Sameer wanted to get married before that while Aranya wasn’t ready for it. Both of them had their own grounds and none of them would bend for the sake of the other. They had a huge fight and stopped talking .Their ego prevented them from calling up each other . But Aranya missed him dearly. At the same time she wouldn’t call him. It had always been Sameer who broke the ice after a fight and even this time she had expected him to be the one to make peace. Although she knew this whole issue was mainly because of her fault but she would none the less agree to it but herself. Had she wanted she could’ve got a solution to it but she was adamant. Everyday she used to dial Sameer’s number but immediately cut the call,”why should I call him. If he doesn’t miss me then why should i?”,she murmured to herself. Silence, to her, seemed the best revenge. A drop of tear fell down her eye. Already she was upset about her break up and this “arrange marriage” issue seemed to upset her even more.
“Naa jaane ladkewale yeh ladkewale kya kya puchhenge, Beti tumhe kya kya aate hain, khana bana sakte ho, Yeh kar sakte ho, Woh kar sakte ho,bla bla bla..mummy agar koi mujhse aise sawaal karein toh main tabhi wahaan se uthkar chali aayungi.”, Aranya said to her mom angrily. Her mom just smiled.
Finally it was Sunday . The house has been cleaned and Aranya’s parents were looking over the last minute details before the guests arrived. “beta hurry up,the guests are due any moment. Quickly tie your hair and put some kajaal.”,her mother said and rushed backed to the kitchen. Just then the doorbell rang. By her father’s voice Aranya could make up that the guests have arrived. She felt like running away. Instead she went to the dressing table and loosely tied her hair. But she wasn’t in a mood to put on the slightest bit of make up.
She could hear the excited voice of Rama aunty speaking in her shrill voice,”wait till you see our Aranya. She’s an angel. All the goodies you see,she prepared it herself….”and she kept talking. She looked up and saw her mother standing at the door, calling her. She dragged herself unwillingly to the drawing room and sat on the sofa opposite the boy’s parents. She purposely tried to avoid everyone’s gaze and her eyes were fixed on the mattress instead. As if she had silently promised herself not to look up to anyone.
Aranya had tried to look as much unkempt as possible. Her hair was loosely tied and she wore a dress that she had long back relegated to antiquity. But what she didn’t realize was that her attempt to look careless and unkempt was actually serving the purpose of heightening her beauty and elegance. Suddenly she could feel the boy staring at him. Trying to ignore it she looked up straight, face to face with the boy’s parents . She had a distant feeling of seeing them somewhere, in some photo or whatever but she couldn’t remember. Now she stole a sideways glance at the boy and she was shocked. Now she knew why they seemed so familiar. She looked at him again, and saw him staring at her unabashed, a wry smile at the corner of his lips. It did not fit at all. She couldn’t believe the guy’s guts. How could he behave like this, that too with their parents sitting around them . She had an overwhelming urge of crying out loud,not because she was sad or unhappy or upset with this alliance, but because she was face to face with Sameer after almost two months and his smile had taken away all her anger, her complains, everything. For now she just wanted to hug him tight. Sameer winked at her avoiding everyone’s eye and her cheeks turned a bright hue of red. “Aranya why don’t you two go to your room and chat among yourselves. What will you people do sitting here with a bunch of old people?” Sameer’s mother said. “no aunty its ok, I mean..” Aranya started stammering. When her parents also said the same she had no other option. She slowly moved towards her room, Sameer at her steps. Tears streaked down her face. But she didn’t know if they were tears of happiness, or grief, or relief, or simply an expression of her anger melting down. “I’m sorry my baby, but just don’t leave me this time. We’ll sort things out”, Sameer whispered into her ears as they entered her room and shut the door. She tried to speak Sameer sealed her lips with his..the still and softly breathing silence suffused and submerged them.. After all, all arrange marriages weren’t that bad. Some had lots of love involved and even more coincidence……

unchained love....

The roses still look so fresh,
And the promises crisp,
But the lonely nights wander in my room,
Snatching away the memories that put me to sleep.
You are there, yet u ain’t,
Or its my thoughts taking a bend?
Few things happen somehow,
The reasons for them, Maybe i don’t know,
But I try and convince myself,
Somehow,still, u love me though……

Hiiii beautiful ppl...how r u all doing???????have been away for a while...but not to worry,new posts coming soon...
love ya all..