EMAHO

We live in a self created world where most of the reasonable approach and behaviour comes from, Me: Knock, Knock.. They: Yeah!!, Knocking on the heaven's door.. Me: May I please come in? They: Your cheap indulgence can not destroy my inner peace and beauty of my life.. Me: Excuse me? They: You cant understand. Neither I want you to understand. Please let it be. Me: Ohkay, but what? They: I am not insecure for anyone because I am secured enough and confident enough for myself. Me and my life is very simple. It is not like your shit life. Do you get that!! Me: You may go and snob where ever else you want and the way you want with your bloody desperate spree of nuisance.  They: You dare to abuse me and give a undignified verbal assault? I will see to this. Me: Ohkay. They: So you arent affected right and you don't bother at all. You think you are very smart and we cant overpower you? Me: Dafuc!!, bwhahahahhahah ahahahahahhahahahahhahahha!!.. They are ...

The note is an extension to  http://maktubpomilproch.blogspot.in/2014/05/true-identity.html#.VEi6_GeSwwY  . This blog titled "TRUE IDENTITY" had well derived words that stated, "But then he got her pregnant. And it all went downhill from there. He refused to lend his surname to the child. He denied being the father of the child and would take no further interest in the child. He even offered to sponsor the money and facility for abortion." The developing societies which boast of ethics on its humane, fight against women abuse and all the societal existence that follows is just a photo-shopped faux. The more it claims, the more downright unclaimed the reality is. People who stand against the odds are let down with cheapest indulgence of being wrong.  On many of her kinds and experience, She was a woman of substance who believed in a true emotional commitment to him in every thick and thin. She stood by his side where others could have easily walked away ...

They say, "Go to Goa, party harder, get drenched in boose and walk red-eyed on grass. It is Goa. Goa is high, hyper and hippie." I heard that all and knew that there is much more to the specified highs here. On a psychadelic trip away from the horns and hustles, this part of India has to offer the most well defined culture, heritage and essence of it's own existence. Having quit my corporate enslavement lately, this was a much awaited exploration of my life. Being a mesmerized traveler on Konkan routes for five years, I was very much fascinated by the tattooed firangs and the Kokam squashes at Margao Railway Station. I used to travel alone in my two-tier side berth most of the times and watched everything pass by, with a book in hand, sitting under the blanket. I never could relay it to anybody but there was an intuitive connection to this part of India. The moment I was offered an official visit here, all I could say without a second thought was a ...

Having naturally unkept hair like Frank Zappa and a serious hippie look that made me look like an abstract thing in my family, as a kid I was always referred as "That girl who looks like an anglo-indian afro aboriginal!!..Is she your daughter!?!?". My father used to laugh and say,"yes!!,yes!!". My mother's attempts to frame me into girly clothes and hairstyles always failed as a disaster. I had a waist of 32 and had a round chubby face. I was a pre-mature birth with dents in my skull and wierd since the beginning. This wierdness was a hallmark till I realised my ownself in the college. Log mujhe "Maggi Maggi" bolke haste the cause of the hair and I used to be least bothered and self-occupied. I was ragged the most in comparison to my other batch-mates because I looked strange to normality, and guess behaved stranger with the inbuilt "Dont you dare" fauji brat attitude. Never into intoxications and addictions, I still always looked liked...

The conversation between me and her started on an image I shared with her on whatsapp. The image depicted the vastness of freedom we humans crave for, the vastness to explore and the vastness to live those out-of-the-ordinary adventures. This was the image that gave me a sleepness night thinking about the amazing calibre of instances that can happen to life, if we think of them and plunge for a fearless dive.  She is a silent woman who normally doesnt express much and it was like an adrenaline rush when she exclaimed in a go,"mujhe bhi udana hai..give me the wings". I was so amazed and declared,"Lets be Wright sisters this time".  The Wright gliding experiments were always based on the "Lift Equation", like most of us measure the quality of the people we are with by the lift they can give (by their capability to fulfill our needs). The wing wrapping systems were used for the aircraft's lateral control, like the immediate and long-term needs o...

Avidly, stars are astrological incarnations held on belief by many of us. Some are born with great star influences and some with none (as believed and taken). For me, stars are all about what Pink Floyd lyrically "Breathed"-"Long you live and high you fly. And smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry. And all you touch and all you see. Is all your life will ever be." (starstruck and influenced) Co-relating affliction to imperiality, lately I have realised how small is the value of LIFE (living and yet-to-be-born) for people around. There are people who struggle to survive, who want to live a little more and not die, a mother who wants a child from her own womb, a mother who would bear pain to the extremes to let the life she has held inside her for months breathe by itself finally or who disrupt every atheistic supremacy to submissive prayers for a beloved to stay for a life-time. I have realised, nobody would trade their life and needs for the concer...

In the 19th century, inhumanity meant cruelty and in the 20th century, it means self-alienation. Alienation is an often tragic form of dislocation which entails disruption between the hopes, dreams, aspirations, relationships and social world which seems to be moving in a sphere. The victim's relationships can be sabotaged equally or particularly through verbal pressure, threats, diversions, distortion campaigns and systems of rewards as well as punishments. The industrial and scientific age has recreated the world of complexities along with specialties which is incapable of perceptions holistically. It is possible for people to manipulate their identity while keeping their privacy. Nowadays, the world has been reduced from naturalists to labors and countries to markets with a sole purpose of gaining profit. The ultimate justification of all interactions leaves no space for selflessness, altruism and fair-minded service. It is all about head-over-heels dependency on technolog...

The world is surrounded by speculations and assumptions and illusions and symphonies of their own thoughts. It is like a whole different distant world, real for them and unrealistic for me, or, unreal for them and realistic for me. I shall call myself indifferent and them as indifferent too (No bias).  Now, when it concerns silence the reasons can be many-ignorance and hurt amongst. Ignoring silence if presumed from a positive aspect has a lot deeper to learn and if dictated by negative approach, it is merely the person being ignorantly silent who is running away from problems, his responsibilities, his flaws, his undeclared mistakes, his fake public image and his lesser self. To my analysis, intentional ignorance being silent is the worst form of abuse you can treat someone with. Why not just open a channel of words and clear through rather than running away or making yourself bigger than what you actually are!?!?.. Now, the hurt silence is something you cant be blam...

Happy in the lives, most of us are struck by the compulsary theme known as "PROFESSIONALISM". Lesser professionalism, it is more of "being the dumbest donkey" being spanked everyday cause slogging our own ass is the expected work for the organisational productivity and performances which would drive an increment, luckily if noticed. Luck depends on what kind of a professional player you are-the bad one or the worst one. A day it so happens that professionalism came to my door steps for the seemingly esteemed talent I am bestowed with. (Wow Moment!!) Professionalism of a kind where I am supposed to do one thing a day which turns to be something else the other day and something else the third day. So, basically, the recruitment criteria obviously insults the work I am supposed to actually do, that would be work of three asses eventually, which am made to realise on transparency after joining. I know, I know, I am stuck from the dusk to the dawn. I am confused ...

You never know how close they are to you till you try distancing yourself from them. Nothing is more to life than the depth in  maa's  eyes and the warmth of her undeclared care, the strength that  papa  gives by his silence that speaks a million strong words. They know no distance or constraint from the time you are born till the time they are alive. Parenthood is the best emotion one can ever be blessed with unconditionaly.  There are many instances when we fail to realise their worth and keep on hurting them for our own selfish needs and freedom in life. They dontt't utter a word and accept the way it is, having a big heart that would internally cry. They see happiness with a perspective of where our happiness lies. They hold your hand to support when nobody would dare or stand by.  Having committed a mistake of making them very small in our own lives, rectify and grow, wishing that nobody else does that to their folks, have guilt-acceptance to...

Many of us have this tendency of entangling ourselves with wierd thoughts and situations, and this phenomenon of  deja vu  if mis-splent can really be written as disasterous floccinaucinihilipilification..I am surely not mixing my half-memories with " de jaa who!?!? ", but I really felt that I saw this man in blue aviators and fluorescent green shirt somewhere before, walking right infront of me as a studd, with an attitude of international glamour..not the man, but I guess, I am cool like that.. On my epiphany (an experience of sudden and striking realization) and no deja vu, I see the man walking past again with added red pants followed by a one in yellow pants..I literally thought that am visiting a nail paint counter, a wholesale cloth market, rather a abstract art museum on colors.. Bursting out laughing on my ownself, I accept that it is the latest fashion trend when I hear them say,"arre woh dekh,waha hara phool wala pant hai".. (Thank you for w...

The first time I held my first heart, in my bare hands, was at the age of 19 years in the anatomical dissection hall. It was a female heart preserved in formalin and felt hard as a rubber and heavy as something really uncommon for it's size. It was a terrible feeling initially, may be for the strong odour of formalin that made it difficult to even breathe.  The walls of the heart were out of distinct understanding and all the three layers seemed difficult as my eyes gazed wide open and blinked. We were told that there are four chambers to receive and send out blood via veins and arteries, and the right side of the heart theoretically maintained circulation to the nearby lungs while the left side of the heart pumped blood all the way to the extremities of the body. Obvious question was which side is right and which one is the wrong. The only fascination I had in that heart were the very cordial "valves" because by the time I accepted that I am holding somebody's ...

She sat on a hammock in her balcony strolling through the heavy rain with “ The Motorcycle Diaries ”. Before she started reading the book, she could relate to Ernesto “el Che” Guevara just as a young medic who revolutionized towards united Latin America, fought and died for the cause of poor. As the pages turned and the words unfolded, the relativity ruminated towards a larger aspect of causes and consequences concerned to his legendary life which very few men are constructed with. All thoughtful, she was positively agitated as she came across lines about his narration of the journey that read, “…Quixotic in its semi-unconscious style and, as for Quixote, had the same effect on the scope of his consciousness.”  Deeper through the words and craving to explore the world, she marched into her own life and experiences until her mother walked to the door with a mug of dark coffee. She sipped the coffee while clicking the rain drops which were beautifully aligned on the metal wir...