transumptive "after" thoughts

If you ever want to be talked about similar to a prostitute, I’d suggest that person to be work as a freelancer for an event management company. You’ll be referred to as a price tag and called upon based on availability and need! As much as there is a downside… which, mind you, is way stronger than the up side can ever be… there happens to be a few good ups to being a freelancer as well! Let me get into the details of it in a while. I’m writing this whilst working at an event in the Go Dolphin Ballroom of Emirates Towers. The entrance roof is made of glass… can you even begin to imagine what an idiot must the architect have been to make a glass roof in Dubai? And an even bigger idiot is the man who approved the glass finishing! As much as its pretty, did they just conveniently forget that Dubai is, in reality, a desert? Oh well, I’ll just mark that one as one of the downs of working as a freelancer! Now to really sell off the up side of working as a freelancer...

Below is a story that was originally written (by me only) on 28/02/2007, only publishing it late. Hope you like it! When the last of the guests left, I went back into the hall to feel the emptiness that’s not only in the room but also inside me. It’s strange how even a house full of people can also make you feel so lonely. Sometimes I would just wake up to see if I really am as alone as I feel, only to find a warm body breathing steadily beside me, so very peaceful, so much unlike me. Does anyone else feel what I feel? Has anyone in the house noticed? I crept downstairs into the library; I fixed myself a drink from the leftovers on the bar, picked up the book that I had seen him read. He looked so much interested & lost in it. I had walked past him twice to make him notice me. But he didn’t. Not that I’m surprised, I don’t even look into the mirror anymore, in the fear that maybe I’m really invisible! I couldn’t read a word, so I just finished my drink, lit up a ...

Certain stories are difficult to start. Even though you intend to relay it word-by-word, some stories are difficult to express unless you are a writer of high caliber. Please be assured, I’m not one of those and shall do my levels best to put this simply, minus the confusion! Before I even as much as begin with the story, I just want to ask all the readers if they’ve ever had a repetitive dream or nightmare… I’m a person who believes that dreams have a meaning… if anyone else also believes in the same, care to interpret this one for me? Allow me to provide you with a brief synopsis of what happened sometime before I slept off as I think its related to the nightmare I had last night… As most of you know, my cousin is currently in town from Doha. We spend shit-loads of time together… however, this story is to do with my nightmare, therefore won’t get into that. We had to meet up a common friend of ours at Starbucks (SB) in Al Ghurair. He picked us up in a White Toyot...

I know usually everyone enjoys Holi. I’m personally not a great fan… but my family is, so I do join them in the celebration. This year, like every year, we went to Creek Park. Not sure who were the organizers; however 89.1 Radio 4 fm was one of them. Below are 10 points why this year it was disastrous: 1               The music sucked big time… mind you, it was all Indians organizing an Indian festival, without the knowledge of which festival! They just wouldn’t play HOLI songs! 2               They hired a comedian to perform right in the midst of the celebration… trust me, it’s just not worth the details! No one heard it either, most left… 3               The suppo-sed ‘STAR OF THE NIGHT’ Monali Thakur, who was lip syncing songs for us, got all pepped up, prepared the audienc...

After my first (and last) disastrous attempt at writing in Hindi, I solemnly swear on my blog never to repeat the mistake! It’s amazing how many laughs (not counting swears) I received over it. To those who laughed, fuck you bitches... and to those who swore, ditto! I get it people, I won’t bother again. In order to make it up to my mates (who felt tortured just reading it), here’s something me and my cousin were working on yesterday. Unfortunately, this one is heavier on music than lyrics. I’m hopeless with notes, else would’ve provided that for the music readers. However, I can help with the fact that the music is very 80’s style, heavier on the keyboard than guitar. This one is to all my friends. I won’t name them (if I forget anyone, I’ll be in shit trouble). And please consider this a big THANK YOU to all those lovely people who always paid my tab for I’m forever broke! I know it isn’t much; we are still working on it. Should there be any "better" de...

The below song/whatever-you-want-to-call-it is a dedication to my fiancé, Rakesh. On his request I’ve made an attempt at writing in Hindi! Not that I don’t know Hindi, it’s just been so long since I wrote anything in my national language that the flow of writing is broken! However, I hope whoever reads this has only basic knowledge of the language; else they’ll probably find too many errors. Goes like this… Kuch tanha se baethe the hum Yunhi soche kab aayenge voh Mudke dekha jab yunhi humne Samne humare khade the voh Zindagi ke yeh pal bade yaad aate hain Zindagi ke kuch pal muskura jate hain Ruthne manane se fursat kaha Ki chan baatein bhi hum karle Aapko apne kaam se fursat kaha Ki hum dil bhi thoda bharle Zindagi ke yeh pal bade yaad aate hain Zindagi ke kuch pal muskura jate hain Shopping to hum harooz karte Lekin paise deta kaun? Shikayat bhi hum harooz karte Lekin humari sunta kaun? Zindagi ke yeh pal bade yaad aate hain ...

The below song is a dedication to my brother Amrish. We wrote this song in complete haste only because he was in one of his music composing moods! Its based on a personal experience when traveled to B’ham, N. Ireland, Cyprus, Delhi and Mumbai. Its just a song that was written randomly, but from the heart. Hope you’ll like it as much as much we enjoyed making it  J   Everywhere I’ve been I’ve heard the same sound, The sound of people and the sound of cars The cries of children, mingled with laughter The bursts of horn, the obscenity Yet everywhere I go I’m different to them, Is this what they call hell today? Everywhere I’ve been I’ve heard the same sound, The sound of people and the sound of dogs The neighbor’s dog barking, all night disturbing The construction guy going on and on Yet everywhere I go I’m different to them Is this what they call hell today? People with Afros, People with Gold The Oil-rich mofos, And the people with Om ...