The Story

Hey readers, it has been a long time since I wrote something. I was busy with the publishing work of my novel - 'Oops!'. I am happy to announce that everything right from proof-reading, cover-design, typesetting has been done and the novel has gone for publishing. The release date of the novel has not yet been finalized, I plan to release it on 29th Aug, i.e. my birthday, but my Dad wishes to release it before my birthday - in a way making him proud that I published my novel when I was still 19 years old.

Now, I am quite free and I am longing to be more regular on Graffiti - the story-teller within me is dying to write yet another story. My travelogue too will be updated soon, since I have some awesome experiences of Scotland to share with you all.

So here I am. All free - with excitement, vigour and 'time' for my blog.

P.S. I found that I was gifted at exaggeration, so I became a story-teller.

The Father and The Son

There was a father
Who used to boast with glee -
"As soon as my son turns 18,
I'll set him free."

"I taught him all the things
That should have been taught
And there is absolutely nothing left
That I forgot."

What a father
He would have been?
No words did he use to teach, rather
He taught through his actions which the son had seen

His son very faintly remembers
A 'heartless drunkard' beating a woman late at night
Amidst groans and tears, all that 3-years old could hear
Was - "Son, please stop your father!", a lady screaming in fright.

Time passed, wife passed and soon
The son turned seven
With nothing special but gloom
As his birthday present

Since he found accidentally
That his father smuggles goods,
Embezzles large sums of money,
And takes drugs with all the dirty foods

The shock was absorbed
In almost no time
And this remained their way of life,
Until the son's eyes went blind to crime

The years went by
And the son was 14 in a blink
The father was full of joy
To find his son's interest in his business - quite keen

The small-child that used to live
Died within the son soon
Drugs, money and lust started catching his eyes,
Instead of the stars and the moon!

The young lad
Was now the partner of his father
His right hand - he often called
And the one who'd take his business farther

Time flew and the cub turned 18
The proud father set him 'free'
But, the young man couldn't find the freedom
No matter how far did he see

He could devise no way out
To kill the throbbing boredom
There was no path throughout
Which could let him feel that exhilarating freedom

He's 19 now and imprisoned for life
For he killed his father - who could never be
The teacher who taught things that should have been taught
Instead, just set him 'free'!

He will never be able to witness that freedom
Nor does he want to see
Since, he saw that exhilarating moment once
- When he set his father 'free'!

(Wrote on paper, on train, from Mallaig to Glasgow, 16th June)

P.S. The actions of the father here led to his own death by his own son, who when set free realized that freedom doesn't mean to be free from guardianship rather to be free from evil. And ironically, he chose the path of evil to get rid of it.
P.S. Parents forget that it's not their talks but their actions which has a never-ending effect on their child. If they speak good language, they are honest and caring; their children will definitely be like them. Cheers to my parents!

To Angel from Demon

I met a guy
Who was a bit shy
He had a scintillating charm
And a dream to touch the sky

I could see in his eyes
A determination to reach those
Who needed someone to love them
And to settle their woes

He was so different
From each one of us
Compassionate, diligent and patient
Were just a few facets of the character, did he possess

I so wanted to become his friend
Not only to deduce his thinking
But to know him better
And to make the distance between us start shrinking

And soon I became his friend
Days passed like moments and our friendship bloomed
From summer to winter, January to December
The heart-to-heart bond between us exquisitely groomed

I got impressed by his thinking
With every passing day.
He had a dream to catch
In his own unique way.

Now, when I see him
I feel immensely proud
Because he is chasing his dreams
Without ever being loud

Often I see back
And I cherish those moments
Which gave me not just a friend
But a brother, a guide as well as a 'present'

This is a small present from my side to you, oh brother
You don't know that you are special to me - like no other

Being so far away from you,
I had nothing else to give
All I can say is cheers to our friendship
And the beautiful days of school that I want to relive

They say a friend in need
is a friend indeed
I say, a friend whose friendship is without any greed
Is a friend indeed

Happy Birthday to you AMAN!
From all the angels as well as 'one Demon'!
;)

P.S. This is for my brother-like friend Aman. There are very few people in my life who are as special to me as my school-friend Aman. I miss you buddy.

What is love?

If you begin to see more and more qualities
Rather than flaws in a person as time passes,
Then I'll say that
You are in love with that person.

P.S. This is how I define love. I can explain this concept too. The human ego, to keep itself satisfied, searches for flaws in any person, the flaws you see increase as time passes. But being in love is nothing but the suppression of this ego.
P.S. Your interpretations of this difficult word called 'LOVE' are cordially invited in the comment box.
P.S. This definition holds not for just your soul-mate, rather for every person you love - be it friend, relatives, COUNTRY or your beloved.

'She'

There are people
Who claim to love me, and then there is 'She'
Who doesn't claim a thing
But loves me condition-free

They speak out aloud, shout and exclaim.
Whilst she chooses silence to speak her heart-out with glee.
No matter how much they may claim,
They'll always remain 'people' in my eyes, they can never become 'She'.

"Who is this 'She'?"
I surely made you think
Replying to which,
"She is my best friend", I say with a wink.

"Why is 'She' so special?"
If that's your question
There are no special reasons
What I can mention.

More than the reasons, it is she
Who is special to me
The moment she came into my life
'I' was transformed into 'we'

They sometimes ask me
"What makes 'us' so apart from 'she'?"
I reflect and say to them
"Your 'us' can't make me 'we'."

"She just gives me a bit more than what everyone gives",
After thinking for reasons, do I conceive.
"Be it love, time or the key to happiness,
With her by my side, utter bliss is what I receive."

To all you 'people'
I have just a thing to say
No matter how much love you give to me
She'll continue giving me a bit more everyday.

P.S. This poem is dedicated to my soul-mate. I don't know how are you or where are you or when will we meet but I can assure you from the core of my heart that I'll give you everything a bit more than everyone else.
P.S. I am a hardcore romantic.

My Quotes - II

To impress people on facebook, my egoistic writer mind has started writing some really profound quotes. I present them here in another set called 'My Quotes - II' :

• The real joy in writing comes when you read something really beautiful and you're amazed to realize that it is actually you who wrote it.
• Everyone can write, but not everyone can sit to write.
• A real photographer is the one who instead of looking through the camera makes the camera look through his eyes.
• I am shocked to realize how joyful this life can be if there are no checkpoints(read 'exams').
• Happiness is costly, but I am rich and extravagant!
• Theoretical physics is like photography ... you've to keep your eyes open to get that perfect 'click'.
• As days are passing out here, the more I am getting closer to myself. And the more I am getting closer to myself, the more I am falling in love with me.

P.S. It is quite difficult to manufacture yet another quote as a PS for a post titled 'My Quotes - II'.

8 things I love to do:

The points are in the hierarchical order:

• Writing stories(on blog) - It is my passion. I am mad about it. My mind has started searching for a climax or a twist in every simple event of my life. I am doing work and suddenly a flash of idea rings my mind. Day by day, I am getting amazed to know how this amazing thing called 'passion' works!
  
  
• Playing guitar - The mere plucking of strings with my fingers gives me inexpressible joy. I know how to play about a dozen of instruments, but not one gives me as much pleasure which guitar gives. The pain in cuts and bruised fingers gives a sense of satisfaction that's incomparable.
  
  
• Catching the moment on my cam - My eyes tries to search for the weirdest of weird things in the surroundings and my finger waiting for the moment of that perfect 'click'. I've realized that a real photographer is the one who instead of looking through the camera makes the camera look through his eyes.
  
  
• Writing with hand - I love my handwriting, I find it artistic and beautiful. No matter whatever keyboards or voice recognition softwares the mighty human brain develops, nothing can take the joy of writing with my hand.
  
  
• Cooking - I was not sure about this one a couple of weeks ago, but now suddenly this has become my newest passion. I can find cooking quite similar to learning music - you get better and better with experimenting.
  
  
• Telling stories - This one hidden talent is known to very few people around the world. I have great stock of stories - all kinds - real life stories, inspirational stuff, humorous stuffs and anecdotes of all the famous personalities fed into my mind. Just remind me whenever you get time and I'll get started. Most of these stories have entered my CPU through books like Chicken Soup and anecdotes owes its origin to the numerous biographies that my bespectacled eyes skimmed through.
  
  
• Turning the pages of a Book - The essence and importance of books can never be overshadowed from my life. The mere joy I get while turning the pages of the book propels me to the Cloud Nine. I dream of the day when the large library at my home will have one shelf for the author named 'Harsh Snehanshu'.
  
  
• Teaching - This is the job that I want to do. I want to teach. I want to teach a subject called 'life' in addition to my area. I want to be the best teacher alive out there in the world. A teacher whose mere teaching attracts students, numbering more than registered for the course.
  

P.S. As days are passing out here, the more I am getting closer to myself. And the more I am getting closer to myself, the more I am falling in love with me.

Yo!

A BIG NEWS in my life:

My Professor has just offered me to do a Ph.D under his guidance, if I 'wish'. No competition, no examinations, direct admission. Hmm, the universe is conspiring to let me realize my destiny. :)

P.S. If you think you can, or you think you can't; you're right - Henry Ford

The Bucket List

It is 5:15 am in India and 12:45 am here. One hour ago, I went to the kitchen to make soup. My mind was not quite thrilled with the day I had. Talking about today; I, Keshav and Rajiv travelled a lot, to the poshest area around the town, but at the end of the day I and Keshav realized that we didn't really enjoy the thing. Something seemed missing. That forced my mind into a philosophical mode. The mode which I generally avoid getting into. So, I was there in the kitchen and suddenly I asked Keshav, "What are the ten things that you want to do before you die?"

These kinds of questions are very uncommon nowadays. No-one has time to sit back and 'dream'. We generally keep ourselves occupied, with orkut, facebook or even by doing nothing, to prevent any serious thoughts enter our minds. But today, we crossed the limiting barrier of 'laziness to think' and each of us came up with our own Bucket List - a list of things which we want do/be before we die. What we came out with amazed both of us, the weird dreams and belief that we have already achieved them happened to blow our minds.

I am writing my dreams down here and I think I'll cross-check this list before I die(friends, do remind me if I forget!).

So ladies and gentleman, here is my bucket list:

1. Get my name published in a book and that book should make a mark in the world!
2. Win Bharat Ratna at the age of 40.
3. Compose Music for a bollywood movie - that too honorary - be the honorary music director for that movie.
4. Drive Bentley along the river Colorado, with my parents, sister and wife seated in it.
5. Publish a photo captured by me in the National Geographic Magazine.
6. Win a Nobel in Physics as well as Literature.
7. Take care of someone, love the same someone and marry to the same someone and make her feel that she is THE MOST special person on this planet.
8. Come to Scotland - Glasgow for my honeymoon and live in this same White House Apartments and read this 'post'.
9. Be the best short-story writer India ever had.
10. To have my best friends crying 'dil se' during my funeral i.e. to have my bunch of good friends remain my friend forever.

P.S. Nothing is impossible if you dare to dream. Give yourself some time to make one bucket list and be amazed to see what you really want!

Personal

It is 3.30 am in the night. I am awake. The morning light has crept in. Had a bread-jam. I don't know what is keeping me awake. I suddenly realize that I have some purpose in my life and that purpose can only be realized if I keep myself involved - involved in some things or other. I had been wasting my time quite a lot. In worthless blabber, in reading and seeing craps(not literally) and facebook-ing. Today was a unique day. It made me contemplate about something which I had not cared about much in my 19 years, 8 months of existence. And that something is my life.

Seeing the work culture here, which is awesome, I don't know why I get an intuition that research is not exactly the arena for me to step upon in my future. It is certainly peaceful for the body and challenging to the mind but there is some kind of monotony that I can always associate with it. Theoretical physics is such a big field that no wonder two hours later I come across something awe-inspiring and change my statement, but for the time being I feel that it is not for me. Perhaps I am too lazy to apply my brain. The work here has no relation to my current feeling, rather the work-culture here is really fun and I am making a nice progress too; but inwardly I feel something else is in store for me. The only question is 'what I really want?'

So enumerating the career options for me, hmm, let me see:

• Research, Physics : on hold; chances - less.
• MBA - I have no specific interest. Perhaps if I go for it then I'll end up founding an NGO for AIDS patients. That's certainly what gives me a certain specific interest, but that interest has to be polished to a more general state.
• IAS - No way! I hate being a part of the bureaucracy.
• Direct Job - That would be misusing the runway to the higher exposure that IIT has offered.
• Higher Studies in some other field : Certainly, this seems a lucrative line. I get a definite urge that I'll shift in any field of arts after my B.Tech. But then always, I can carry out my passion for writing as my side-business, with whatever I do for living.
• Confused - yeah that's my state.

P.S. I've written a story in Graffiti after a long time of one month, and that's just because a slight appreciation that one of my blogger pals did to me by commenting on the last story. Thanks for re-igniting the writer within me!

Keep the feedback engine on...

Quantum Leap

Friends,

I am not getting time, seriously, have loads of work at hand. Plenty of stories are in the assembly line waiting for things to settle. I am leaving on 15th and my stagnant blog would be bloomed only after I step in her majesty's land. Meanwhile, I am making a new blog(photo-blog, I suppose) to encompass my 'Videsh Yatra'. I named it Quantum Leap and that can be accessed at :

http://quantumwanderings.blogspot.com/

YOU

When days were hectic,
I thought - I would forget you,
When I was happy,
I thought - I don't need you,
But now when I am sad,
I miss you,
And now I know that
It was never 'I' that mattered,
It was always YOU!
And you know what?
'I love you!'

P.S. Being loved is far more beautiful feeling than loving somebody.

I am in love...

Alas for those who never sing,
But die with all their music in them!

I am in love, with her, yet again!

P.S. Pichak dhoom, dhoom pichak dhoom, dhoom chak chak, dhichak dhichak. Let the rhythm within you flow out!

Harsh

I don't know the reason
Nor do I want to know
I like this season
Though there isn't any snow

Did nothing splendid
Still I am elated
You may consider me stupid
But that's what has originated

Knockin' my door are the examinations
And I'm welcoming them with open arms
Having no fear and no expectations
All I am feeling is aaram!

I don't know why this poem came
And where it came from
But it brings to my mind - a flame
Of joy ~ more than some!

P.S. I am happy of no reason and this fact makes me happier.

The Stepping Stone

Have you ever had a flash of idea? An idea which can make you lose your sleep, can overpower your thinking so vehemently that no moment passes without it. If not then certainly you are missing an important ingredient of life, called passion. I am not here to preach you about passion but I want to share my experience with my passion. For those who don't know, I have written a novel titled 'Oops! 'I' fell in love!' which is due its release this August. It is a comedy of errors in a vulnerable small-town guy's tryst with love in this strange Delhi.

After writing this bit of humorous thingy, an irresistible urge to write something with a message - impactful but without any trace of philosophy - came within me. My urge to get this flash of idea made me into a story-teller and in the meantime I wrote about five stories which turned quite impressive(even to me!). Ideas for a dozen more of these are in the assembly line waiting for my exams to end, but none of them could help me out with the theme for my next novel, until the day before.

It's a matter of just yesterday. After struggling for over a month to find MY IDEA I have finally got it ~ in just a flash of second. I was sitting in the library and reading my plasma notes with the concentration of a drunken driver when I was shaken by this thought. The idea traced back to my last article '18+' in Graffiti and it made me think of an issue which could be addressed in a novel which is still(hopefully) not thought of by anyone else on this planet!

Friends, I have an immense pleasure in announcing that I have got a theme for my next novel. With AIDS as the backdrop, I would address the issue, "If a sufferer is deprived of love and care, what devastating impact he/she can have on the society!" I am not disclosing the plot, nor am I going to publish it on blog. I would be working silently on this theme for the next half of year and then come up with my creation materialized in my hand.

It is a very dark theme and demands quite a lot of research at my end. The moment I got this idea, my mind jumped in thrill and enthusiasm. I called two of my closest friends and shared my excitement with them, they instilled faith in me by being very appreciative of my plot and even the uniqueness of idea. I searched my mobile contact list and I felt really bad that I could not share it with anybody else since either they would not share the same excitement as me or they would be too critical.(It happens, as I've seen that if you bestow the right to judge your work to someone who has no niche in your field of art, they tend to be over-critical, they start thinking that they are the God! Offences meant!)

AN EXCERPT FROM MY DIARY:
20th April

With great hope at night I called my Dad and said, "Dad, I have got that flash - my BIG idea! I am going to write about AIDS, in a completely different perspective! Dark theme!"

I then went on to discuss my whole plot with him and he showed some mixed reactions - happy but fearful.

"It will serve two purposes - (a) Create awareness about AIDS in an impactful way, and (b) develop respect amongst people towards the affected few. We are educated ones and I think I will create a long-lasting impact on the society with a dark theme instead of the same happy ending themes. For that I would need to meet AIDS affected people and need their story of discrimination plus their feelings towards society." I continued.

To which Dad replied, "That's really innovative, brilliant sketch. But don't mix up with those AIDS affected ones too much. Avoid shaking hands or even accepting something from their hand or any physical proximity. Always maintain safe distance from them."

I was stunned. I replied, "Dad, you know everything about how AIDS occurs and it is not communicable, but still! I am shocked. I am sorry to inform you that your advice worked in the wrong way. These words of yours have made me a thousand times more enthusiastic about doing immense research in writing this. I would meet the affected people, shake hands with them and even hug them. And I will change this very perception of people around me."

Dad did not reply. Perhaps, his inner voice saying that his son is right overpowered his fatherly protective feelings for me. I instantly knew that he inwardly desired me to break free from all these social taboos and reach out to my dream!

"Thank you Dad." I said.

"I am proud of you son!" He said. There were tears in my eyes, and I could see his eyes too filled with tears, which were however 1000 kms away from me. I smiled anticipating the green signal in the path of my dream.

P.S. I love you Dad.

My Quotes

My mind has setup a factory for manufacturing quotes. With each passing hour, a quote comes out of nowhere. I just want to have a track-record of my genius(yeah, don't stare!) -

Profound-type

1. Love is not measured by what you can 'give' for its sake, rather what you can 'give up' for its sake.
2. I am not mad in love but I love somebody madly.
3. If you have a dream and you have friends who value it, then you certainly are the happiest one on this planet. And I am one of those!
4. I am not one of those; I am one of 'those few'.
5. Sometimes things go in the right direction quite unexpectedly and you are amazed to realize that happiness is your destiny.
6. One is single before and even after commitment. (It is profound, if you get it!)
   

Chill-type

1. I used to be straight, but now I am a hunchback!
2. I am a 'single' child.
3. TV is my ex-girlfriend! And it is I who ditched her.
4. I am addicted to addiction.
   
5. Love is not blind, it is myopic(short-sighted).
   
6. I am a virgin, but my eyes are not!
   
7. It is very difficult to invent a new quote every single time you want!
   
8. You are my best friend, for the time being!
9. I tried to be costly but no one seemed interested; so I became cheap!
   
10. I used to be happy once, but then I gave the minors!
    
11. IIT = Institute of Insipid Tortures(to be encountered in my novel too!)
12. When your girlfriend becomes more of a girl and less of a friend, it is the time to leave her.
    
13. Love is 'friendship gone bad'. (It's plagiarized though, hope she does not read it!)
14. I used to listen to Himesh once, but now I find the noises in the toilet more dulcet.
    
15. This is what I use as my gtalk status message when I want to say DND : I have not slept for two days. Boring people, please bug me and help me sleep!

P.S. There are many more, but I leave them for my novel! Check it out there.

Graffiti

To reduce the accumulation of any more 'Kahani' in my personal blog Synergy, I have made another blog titled 'Graffiti'. The word literally means - a rude decoration inscribed on rocks or walls and can be metaphorically linked to scratches of my mind and imagination while creating stories. The stories, which are numerous to recount and are in the assembly line demanded a separate quantum number for their residence, so here it is Graffiti, ladies and their non-gentlemen:

http://anotherscratchinmymind.blogspot.com/

The way to remember is simple. When you forget the link, just start scratching your mind and another scratch in your mind will sublimate your oblivion. Good Night.

P.S. Check out the recent one in Graffiti. For the first time I wrote something meaningful.

Shorter Story : That 'THING' called love

Week I
"Don't ask about my past!" She said.

He didn't ask. He thought there must have been something quite distressing that might have happened to her, so he shouldn't ask. Curiosity multiplied as seconds ticked away. However, he kept his curiosity to himself.

He was a nice guy(and stupid too), the kind of guys who can be classified as an endangered species nowadays. It was their first talk. She asked his number ~ through net on that day itself after an hour long chat. He did not notice her experience ~ 15000 scraps and a dozen of flirty testimonials, rather was just awed with her choice of words and spontaneity(an euphemism for experience!).

He was in Delhi and she was in Bangalore. Distance was no obstruction since phone lines are always ready to be burnt ~ thanks to reliance on Reliance.

She called him. She started flirting with him. His handsome Orkut pic attracted all those polishing words. He was enjoying every bit of it - it was the first time in his life that it happened the reverse way. Quite a naive(and stupid) guy!

Week II
"I like you." She said. He felt perhaps this is what is called love.

"I like you too." He said with a flattered smile embellishing his cute face.

Talks increased. Even wildest experiences were not spared. He spread his life like an open book in front of her. She listened to him with her chat engine on. He was too gullible(and stupid too) to take a note of it. Plus, she did not tell a thing about her so-called past.

Week III
Thoughts about her clouded his stupid mind. She was good looking and she liked him. What more could he desire. He liked her too. His obsessive thoughts were given a break when she called.

"We both like each other. Why not go to another level?" She started. He was startled. Things had been made easy for him. He did not need to take an initiative. He just needed to say a simple word 'Yes'. He did it.

"Yes, I am ready." He said glibly(and quite stupidly).

"I love you!" She shot the wonderful phrase to his heart. It pierced through creating a wound of joy and he was ecstatic. Everything was so sudden for him. Like all of it had been already written by the Creator himself. He felt grateful to everything around him. Exhaling his long held breath, he said it himself - for the first time in his stupid life.

"I love you too." He said, quite shyly(and stupidly).

Week IV
She was happy. She asked him to mail his snaps. He mailed them. She showed them to her friends. He was looking really handsome. Friends were jealous, she could smell them burning. Her love(oh really, love?) stayed beautiful the whole week. He was all happy, swimming in the sea of love, with her as his lovely partner ~ as lovely as a piranha! Phone bills catapulted to the ceiling... he was relishing even this thing! Stupid!

Her scraps increased from 15000 to 17000. He was not its cause however. He didn't know about it at all since he had been too busy trying different swimming strokes in that algal sea of love. He trusted her. I told you he was too naive(and stupid too).

Week V
Something had gone wrong. He was too stupid to know what was it. There had been no arguments or anything whatsoever. But things were not smooth. He was still swimming though, he found in himself a good swimmer.

There were no calls or message. It was two days now. He was worried. He tried her phone, it was switched off. He switched on his laptop, logged on Orkut - his professional match-maker. He checked her scrapbook. She was talking to someone new...and somewhat more handsome than him, as his profile pic displayed. He checked Mr.Handsome's scrapbook where she had scribbled -

"Don't ask about my past!"

He (stupidly)realized that he had been swimming with a shark. He drowned surviving a brutal attack but now he was no more naive and neither stupid.

P.S. Dedicated to all the nice(and stupid) guys. The world needs your courtesy in the gatekeeping of hotels and department stores- your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile is not required to please the sharks out here.

My Best Friend

As a whistling stream, he flows
Transcending all the barriers
Of language, countries and sorrows;
More than a zillion colours he wears
He is my best friend, oh dear!

With the sound of violins
And the melody of song
Breaking the silence
Of the sad world, he goes along
He is my best friend, oh my summer song!

Much like that friend whose mere presence
Makes our world a place worth
Livin' - of pleasure immense,
That's the kind of joy he brings to this Earth
He is my best friend, oh he's my mirth!

When you love someone, you forget the world
Whilst his love makes you forget even you
His presence makes the Devil within dulled
He asks nothing but love and is always true!
Music - he is my best friend, oh you few!

P.S. The you in italics is for ego.
P.S. Just spent three hours with my guitar, and I realized how much I love it.

Am I talking about 'SEX'?

"Tharki Saala!" Ayush remarked, with both the adjectives especially chosen by him just for me.

I asked him a reason for such a beautiful word to be used against the dark background of my character when he replied, "Apni novel padh, samajh jaega! Tharki!"

I wanted to reflect upon what he meant but I could not find anything in my novel that can coin me as a sex-o-maniac. There are a few kissing sequences in the novel, but that is very necessary for the attainment of the climax for my story!

Ayush went to his room and I too went - to sleep, of course. Today, after the classes, I was getting bored, with nothing unique to do other than listening to the Corrs. I just went near Ayush's room, unlocked his bolted door and entered the room. In a reflex, he shut the lid of his laptop down. But, unfortunately, the lid did not know how to shut the speakers. The screams of women made its way out of the crevices left between the lid and keypad straight into my ears. He was watching porn!

He started smiling at me. I reciprocated and returned back to my room. I was shocked in a bizarre way, the shock you would've got if you find that you are born with two noses instead of one! Guys, 'he' was watching porn! It was not the first time I encountered hypocrisy, but it was the first time that I found that he is embarrassed for his double standards. Leaving hypocrisy aside, let us come to another thing worth notice in the above highlighted line. I put an exclamation mark after porn.

"Why did I need to put an exclamation mark after porn in the above line?" This is the question that requires some ponder. Why there is so much fuss about sex? Because it creates ripples in the head, ripples of the sounds like 'Eeks', 'Oh my God', 'Sick', 'Yuck' and many more but also at the same time make you form a mental image(consciously or unconsciously) of porn ~ in a way you yourself being in coherence with the doers.

Sex is not a thing to talk about, people say. But, almost all those who condemn sex are the ones who love it, my friend Ayush being no exception. One day almost everyone is going to encounter it, in some way or another(PUN intended). I know people who are so fussy about this thing that if they catch that a guy watching porn or something, they'll stop talking to them forever!

In India, sex is a taboo. Even if someone writes or comments something about sex; he/she is considered in the other category, the category of being offensive. Just because your parents told that sex is bad, you tend to avert from it but if it were not sex on their part, then your mere aversion would cease to exist ... because your seed of existence would be struggling to find a shelter for sprouting!

To start with, let me admit. I have seen porn. Not one, not two...but numerous! You probably would not have, and would even hate it... and would even hate me now after knowing about this one more feather in my cap. But the very fact that you have gone through this whole article about 'SEX' without a break with a curiosity of what's coming ahead, leaves you in the my category. Welcome to the club!


P.S. Bindaas bol is perhaps the best caption which suits much more than what it is meant for. It is actually a philosophy of life.
P.S. Am I talking about sex? It's not about sex, it's about YOU!