Grilled Retard Says

She undresses it, very clumsily A burden she carried reluctantly Nothing compared to her marriage though She wanted to take the blouse off Since the punishing afternoon that tanned her skin And made her sweat after an enduring day at work Where saree was a compulsion And so was not raising any voice against it For them, saree prevented rape It is what temples see fit to be worn Did they ask gods what they want? Gods want to see her in clothes that fit comfortably And that is it. Full stop. In fact, naked is the ideal apparel for gods Like they had made us in the first place But knowing how corrupt the society has become They have to settle for the cloak She wants to get rid of this saree It has dust of the streets And lust of men from work, from shops From trial rooms at shopping malls Who have fancy for her bra O fab India! And ladies who talk of her backless blouse Behind her back It has to be behind her back Her carefully disclosing cleavage and deep ne...

There's some hidden force you seek, one that drives you, and gives you strength to accomplish wonders you didn't know you had the ability to until you have. And that's when you realise- you carried within yourself that very force all this time while looking for it throughout the journey. Was the journey futile? No, darling, it is not about having the force. It is about the realisation of it. And the journey made you realise. Darling, the journey was realisation. (1/3) What you must fear is losing to the trek you haven't started, and staring at the peak from the bottom because you were too scared to climb. Watching the sun rise and set from a mountain top is an unparalleled beauty. Something the plains cannot offer. Something that is exclusive to the peaks. You don't have to know that you would reach the top. No, it is not necessary. You only have to know that you won't stop. Once you reach the summit, darling, it will be worth the climb. (2/3) Climbi...

Life has failed you. You’re caught in a labyrinth. Every turn inside the maze would lead to the door that won’t open. The paths betray you. The lampposts give no light. The grass would concoct a plot to ambush the feet. Your shadow trails behind you like the oil leaking out from the fleeing Bentley. The friends who had visited you in the hospital with corsages and unfaithful wishes would stab you to a putrid death with the birthday knife. But the crystal ball doesn’t show you dead. There’s something that leads you to the door time and again. The barren lands haven’t given up on the clouds that tease the thirsty earth and obscure the sun. The sun just won’t die. The lights will penetrate the proud mass of water. Without faith, the easiest climb is most difficult to scale. Pick yourself up and look at the sky. Lose yourself to the music and the lyrics will start to make sense. The doorknob will drop by the wayside. You were marooned on the island where no ships dock. Start bu...

[Editorial, Yearbook 2015, Summer Valley School, Dehradun.] It takes Brobdingnagian excogitation to write your last editorial, cognizant of the fact that one needs to drop a line about every flake of reminiscences, moments of elated bliss, tragic and comic episodes, your entire school life in a nutshell. A random tall guy with an undistinguished face amidst the crowd, who was somewhat adept in literary compositions to a man of humility, undecipherable cognition, and hardheaded wit; it has been such an enlivening journey. Class 2, Godawari to 12 Science, life was pain and pedagogy, quakes and edifice, pitch and pick.  One meaning to expressions transfinite, life was woe and win. But eleven years of relapse and resurrection, I've learned, school life is life lived best.  I've grown accustomed to hate coupled with disgust, I've taught myself to give it a cold shoulder and plow on. I may stammer as a verbalizer, a wretched orator but as a writer, I transcend aerospa...

One doesn't become a social worker by self-proclamation of the same. Social work is not just orchestrating candle marches which die down as soon as the flames extinguish or sending invites to participate in a tree plantation activity. It is more than just throwing verbose at Municipal Corporation for not cleaning up the streets or garbage dumps. It is nowhere close to putting up an anti-rape display picture on our Facebook or WhatsApp accounts, or posting comments and sharing videos related to some burning social issues. Abusing and remonstrating against the Government and plutocrats, the aristocratic group of people for turning a blind eye to the woeful plight of the poor and needy is too good to be termed as a social work. On the contrary, social work is going out there and taking part in the protest/march yourself, burning your hand with the melting wax of the candle and ensuring that even when the flame dies down; it continues burning in our actions henceforth. It is putti...

Life is so much better in movies. You swim across the gulf of torment, dashing hopes, shackles, ruptures and wrath. And yet always end up on the happy shores. Indian movies teach us that every life has a story, all it needs is a direction. No one is born a Hero, we become one. Get inspired. Don't just exist, live. Life's a movie in itself and there's an end to it, unlike Winrar's trial period. So spend Greenwich Time like a sandwich. Grasp the inner nature of things intuitively. Romance like Shah Rukh, king size. Dance like Hrithik, just dance! Entertain like Akshay, fun all around. But at the same time, protest like Amitabh Bachchan, like an angry young man, when you see someone being exploited. Raise your voice against social evils like Aamir Khan, after all, height isn’t the only thing that matters. Fight like Salman, nothing held back. (Don't drive like him, though) How about seeking inspiration from Chak De India? (It was my first movie at a cinema theatr...