Inspired poetry

Zikr-e-haalat unse kaise karein baayan
Rehm ki numaa..ish bhi unko agar nehi aati
Mei me aisa raha madhosh be intehaah
Sharab se bhi saali aasar nehi aati

Koi umeed ber nehi aati
Koi surat nazaar nehi aati
Maut kya aayegi tujhe Sameer
Neend bhi agar raat bhar nehi aati

Ghalib ka sher chura ta hai Sameer
Sharam tujko magar nehi aati

Everyone farts in my general direction

You let them ride on your back, just to be polite.
You let some water flow under, coz then it seems right.
You are tolerant but someone else might not be,
Slack, my brothers and sisters, is your enemy.

A little neglect caused the Bhopal tragedy,
For the current reservation crisis blame middle class voting apathy.
The reduce-weight industry trigerred by burgers and french fries,
And an ambiguity in requirement scope has led to kiddo's demise.

Jab Sam ko mausi ne kaha ki 'Woh sab toh theek hai beta, lekin mei bhi basanti ki mausi hu, koi dushman thodi hu, usko kuwe mei dhakel toh nehi sakti na. Itna toh pata hi hona chahiye ki ladka kamata kitna hai!'
toh Sam ne mausi se kaha 'Baat aisi hai mausi, ki kamane ka kya hai, agar naukri rahi toh kama bhi lunga!'
Fir gao waale ne kaha 'Mausi, yeh kya kar rahi ho!'
Aur mausi neh kaha 'Wohi karungi joh Chapman nei Lennon ke liye kiya tha, Godse ne bapu ke liye kiya tha.... Murder!'
Gao waala 1 'Yeh murder kya hota hai?'
Gao waala 2 'Jab koi angrez kisi aur angrez ko maarta hai na, toh usko murder kehte hai.'
Gao waala 1 'Agar koi desi koi angrez ko maarta hai, toh usko kya kete hai?'
Gao waala 2 'Usko suicide kehte hai.'

Belated

Remembering b'days was never my forte. This past year I have been especially guilty. One important b'day I missed in September was my blogs'. I mean 10th in 2004, I guess, was the day I decided to display my dirty linen to public.
Anyway, one year it has been and more, since getwastedatsams has started displaying the waste that sometimes plagues my mind. One year, and it is still not showing any signs of maturing. There is a serious dearth of worthwhile ideas, poetic prose or any structure. It seems more comfused about what it wants to say than I am right now. Still, I hope it lives on. Like the father of a toddler I expect development with time, the sooner the better ofcourse, yet I love it in its present form. Afterall its my child.

I don't wish belated b'days, but just to let you know you're thought about.

Don't take it seriously!

Roughly this was what happened to me many years ago.
She: 'You know smoking is bad for your health right?'
Me flustered and red faced: 'Yeah I heard about it somewhere!'
She: 'And still you smoke'
Me looking for a place to hide: 'Yeah I know, I'm pretty sad am I not?'
She walks away with a condescending air.

Whenever I think about this incident I am deeply flustered and have to go for a cigarette to soothe myself. This incident has left me deeply scarred. It felt like the pants and the pussy were not where you would expect them to be in a normal boy facing girl situation. I replay this incident in my mind over and over again. I particularly like this imaginary retort my dim-wit self apparently comes up with!
Me: 'You know we are all going to die one day right?'
She taken aback but her supreme confidence allowing her to collect herself: 'But that doesn't mean we kill ourself a cigarette at a time while waiting for the axe to finally fall!'
Me: 'No, I won't keep you waiting that long sweetheart!' and saying so I whip out my remington magnum 55, point at her head, and laugh like a maniac while she stares at me with terror stricken eyes as I bitch slap her.
If the perfection of the crime is judged by the amount of relief it provides the offender, this should be the perfect crime. There is just one minor flaw. I don't know much about guns. Is there something like a remington magnum 55?

A square meal!

The other day I came across the movie 'Office Space' where a character comes up with the most crazy product notion. He conceives the 'Jump to conclusion mat'. Actually it is a simple mat with 'Conclusions' written all over it, and the owner of this mat can jump onto it. A 'Jump to Conclusions' mat.
I was wondering on the same lines and tried to come up with the entire breakfast line which I would package as the 'square meal' with specially made square plates.
We'd have a Jam called 'Faith' so you could Spread the Faith onto your bread. The breakfast could be called 'Justice' so mothers could announce 'Justice will be served' in the mornings. Milk could be packaged as 'Truth' and so you could answer to anybody who cares to ask, that you are having nothing but 'Truth' and 'Justice'. Mothers could also ask their wards to have their 'Truth' with a grain of salt.
Sugar and fat free breakfasts could be marketed as 'Dive' instead of 'Justice', so diabetics and skinny girls could be asked to take a 'Dive'.
Leftovers and discards from the meal should be called the 'Upper hand'. It would be fun to watch street dogs and cats fighting for the 'Upper hand'.
Looks like a revolutionary idea!

That damned cell

That damned cell. He never had the need for it earlier. He liked his independence and his space. Somewhere things got complicated and he'd bought it so that he could talk to her regularly. He was so used to her in his life that the cell seemed a lifeline to bridge the sudden distance he could sense in their relation. Now it seemed a torture. It just lay there besides him tantalising, tormenting, insulting.
This was a new feeling. That insecurity. That feeling of loneliness. That helplessness. That damned overpowering cell. He just couldn't get his eyes away from it.
You're being stupid. She'll not come back. You're alone now. Theres no going back.
He tried reading. Couldn't. Tried sleeping. But the sofa in the hall was rumpled and it hurt his back. He adjusted himself. The hall opened up to a makeshift garden and the moonlight and the neon light lit it up quite well. It looked much better than in the day time. Everything looks better at night. Still he always dreaded the nights.
He got up from the sofa and lit a cigarette. Contemplated whether to take the cell with him. 'Fuck you! Get over it'. Outside the breeze felt good against his skin. Bangalore is paradise when you've stayed for close to three summer months in Chennai. And he'd lived in Bangalore for close to four years earlier. Yet Bangalore strangely seemed a new place to him this return. The cigarette hurt him. He wasn't used to smoking this much. He finished the stick anyway and then decided against lighting another.
When he came back into the hall, the lights of all the bedrooms were turned off. Despite the cigarette, this time sleep came easily.
He was awoken rudely by a ringing sound. It was the alarm ringing in that damned cell. He looked at his watch. He had slept for close to three hours. His friends were still sleeping. They would still be sleeping when he would leave for office. Atleast that way there would be no questions as to why he made such a ruckus over coming to Bangalore. In two days he would be moving to a place of his own. Maybe he would be able to sleep better there.

Boot Camp for Amateur Kissers

"A kiss can be a comma, a question mark or an exclamation point."

A comma will indicate that there is more to follow, paragraphs in fact, harbinger to tales of the delightful amorous kind. There will be a kind of connection between the author and the reader which can only be expected in lovers, which they already are or galloping towards being.

But hold on, the others are actually better. Take a kiss that is like a question mark for example. An unexpected out of the blue kiss. One which will propel you in orbiting speed out of the blues, if you happen to be in such a disposition at that moment. A sudden, refreshing and rejuvenating peck on the cheek, from the sweetest and hopefully cutest friend, while you are demoralizing all around you with your constant ranting. Demoralizing all actually, other than her.

A kiss that is like an exclamation point is the third best thing following an orgasm, and taking a dump. Further elaboration is unwarranted.

Sadly my first kiss turned out to be a full stop.

A and I were great friends, and her lips were of the succulent kind. The eye-catching succulent kind. Suffice to say that next to Angelina Jolie’s no other lips attracted me such. The build up to the kiss was the type that could only be dreamt about. This was partly due to the fact that this was my first kiss and I dreamt about it a lot. The follow-up was however an anti-climax.

Some attempted Haikus

Just for the uninitiated( as i was earlier in the morning), a haiku is one of the most important form of traditional japanese poetry. Haiku is, today, a 17-syllable verse form consisting of three metrical units of 5, 7, and 5 syllables.

I am enlightened;
neglected bath does the trick
Scald mends broken heart.

The sun shines too bright
And hides the moon from men's eyes
In partial darkness

Autumn has set in.
The leaves blow away from him.
He drinks all alone.

Freshness of the morning sun.
The day's best part is often
missed in sleep.

Casablanca

This week was the fourth time I saw that movie, and I can't remember any other movie that I hung on to everyword that was spoken, probably Shawshank redemption, but not many. And I have seen a lot of movies. There have been other classics but Casablanca is something else, every character has something significant to contribute to the flavour of the movie, every dialogue is memorable, every scene has a near perfect setting and relevance, and every song Sam sings makes we want to reach over for that mug of beer (Goddamn I need more).

There is a strange reluctance in all the main characters in the movie, the reluctance of Rick and Elsa to exhibit the feelings they still retain for each other even though the chemistry burns the screen, the reluctance of Lazzlo to acknowledge personal problems and to refuse to allow them to come in the way of his loftier mission or to show any emotion, or Louis who would only observe but would not be observed until he exhibits the hero in himself in the end and viewers never look at him the same way again in subsequent viewings.

And what about the subtleness in the entire movie, everything is simmering underneath, be it the passion and anger Rick has for Elsa, the insecurity Lazzlo feels about his future and Elsa, the hatred the French feel for the Germans, hell even the Germans are refined and well behaved.

You played it for her Sam, now play it for me... The fact that sometimes destiny kicks you when you are just recovering from the end of a beautiful fiendship and trying to get on with it, leaving you to grope around and find another support to get back on your feet and then maybe, just maybe, you end up a better man than you ended up the last time.

I'm meandering, and I guess words cannot do justice to the essence or beauty of the movie, especially my words... What I know is that I will repeat to myself that famous line never actually spoken in the movie 'Play it again Sam', and watch this movie many more times as time goes by

Here's looking at you kid!