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THE LOST SYMBOL

Dan Brown

action starts after 160 pages..

mystery unfolds a lot earlier..

a promise of national emergency fails to knock u wen it unfolds..

a lil disappointing wen compared to other langdon adventures..

but makes one THINK abt 'the WORD' if u ve been initiated to such thinking earlier.

Shades!

i was on Speeding bike..

highway windin n unfolding before us..

was wearing yellow shades../

n this is wat i unzipped:)

\

The shades had a tint of brownish Yellow.

let me describe the weather before that..

it was kinda rainin now n then..

the pleasant types with melancholy bluish hue interspersed with threating clouds with specks of black

the shades jus changed everythin..

it perceived a warm sunny afternoon..

it took sometime for me to adjust to the reality with the shades on cos wen ii remove them , there is a completely different world in front of me..

i was reminded of my friend who always said that our senses were imperfect..

All i could do here was wonder at the fact that we perceive the world through our senses.

if we dint have the ability to recept certain fragrances, it ratherg becomers so hard for us t6o believe that they really exist, so is the case with all other sensdory receptors.

What is real n unreal.

All that we see is the surrealism posed by our sensory perceptions..

perplexed,i wonder in meandering thoughts which were exploring new domain.

i embark the journey to unearth the truths way beyond me, myself and my percetions.

i pack my bags with new bouts of imagination and all the myriad of thoughts my myriad of species have put in me.

I PUT ON THE SHADES AND WALKED TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGE.

Of resplendence tat has blinded me!

i lie down

with no sleep spendin d nite

mornins down like a drunken dog

stubs of fags leavin traces all over d place

d effect of alcohol wearin off

restless mind wanderin boundaries unknown

disconnected dreams

my fav playlist failin to conjure magik

ve ultimately fallen in da maze i know d way not

i cant say it out load

i still wanna shout my throat off d cliff

i realise..

i accept..

i finaaly enjoy the virtuality

i know not how much has she prepared me for this journey

but am losin it every second

a bad move will make me lose it aall

a gamble tat i wish not to throw away

years n years n years

i know wat draws us closer.

the beacon of light off the distant warehouse

is tat wat they call hope

i feel none frm wre i see the light

butterflies..i see them everywhere..

more often than not

the river encircled in the horshoe bend

not reachin da ocean

the urge to the union so strong

a fury that cant break the horse shoe spell

for da river is poisoned

blood so impure

my goddess is always worthy of worship

i cant clip my wings in sacrifice however great the emotion might be

a test of all tat i stood for

d wax in da candle is givin way to darkness

as its no eternal than my mortal musings on this planet

i bring my hands together to feed myself strength

universes bein created from stardust

dust is all thats left of this creation

d devotion i understand not

at times desperation consumes my soul

blackholes formed frm my actions gainin strength

takin everythin in, sparing nothing to craetion

taers have dried

water water behind the corniac dams

not a single drop to shed

moonlight doppling away in eclipses eternal

the highwayman meets the solitary highland lass

their sorrws communicates by intuition

their illusions of life no more understood

pores of da body brewin sweat as if the whole body is sheddin da saline of the eyes

ambiguity n disorientation take d drivers seat

d heart prisoned by a roller coaster of beats thumping thumping

slowly sadly

dreams of hers to step on

my dreams unfolded in a red carpet

symbolising an ode to her 'future' treads on mine

happy to take the footprints

to cherish those contacts immortalised by time

engulfin d dust left by her feet

somitimes a rebel

to upturn destiny

to figt the chances of rollin dice

i need her as i need oxygen water n freshness in them

so suffocated at times, never understanding wat makes me belive

scary thoughts of obsession interludes my thoughts

possessive like never before

only to dream of

her sailin miles apart

sharing her soul with the prince of her precious mind

Gollum.

i ve bcum..

my precious is all i can cry in private

in da darkness left by the blackholes

i pretend a smile when da sun comes to the fore

am happier than ever disappointed self

is it a curse r a nightmare to pass

i feel like rippin off my shell

to show her the mould inside me

to make her see that she is etched within

a void tat only she can fill

a lifetym on earth tat she can give meanin to

alas am jus a mortal

amoral as she loathed

i slap myself to reality

to only feel the pain

a deliverance which is all the better than the pin prickings

ve swum against the tide all along

let go!!

hungry all the same

till life does the death apart

i breathe her in n breathe myself out

shes magic n shes the rain..

i feel her in every drop healing n healing my vain

my pain

am scared of the ultimate test it mite put me to..

which am sure to fail.

i cant take it no more than i can explain

a brilliance far away

blindin all the same... my love!!

beat the heat

pacin down..9..10..11..01

a perennial stream has jus found its end in the pit of a navel mine.

a buzzing fly ends its tenure in a squat.

eyes flamin dragons' fiery.

matka bears water no more than a trickle to quench the thirst, ends in a virtual gulp.

dark is the nite devoid of partyin leaves, leaves me in yonder wander..

leanin am i, watchin with full concentration to jus satisfy my sense with

a mere least of a wavin leaf, summoning the wind.

alas! my senses titter totterin.

practicin voodoo in vain..releasin the pricks tht prisoned the VAYU in chains.

upto no good.

DIMAG KI BATTI in flickerin mode..

arms wide open, runnin the 11 paces that i had counted earlier, between potential n obvious obstructions, like a big fat ostrich preparing flight.

spreadeagled spree dint yield a dab of air to molest the sweat streamin down:(

it had an effect quite the opposite.

flushed.i sit down.

shooin the mosquitoes off.

its fag tym. to open the doorway to fresh contraptions.

bellows of smoke fill the room, affecting thermodynamics of the room in a rather unpleasant,unintended proportion.

quickly put off the smoke n throw a cough in agitation.

i lie back.

glare at the spinnin engg marver overhead.

cursin .

the damn thing doesn seem to throw any air eventhough its seems perfectly functionin in order.

irritation exponentiates............................................

i hide under my tee, to only come out with a face , sweat free:)

the clock says 2.48..

wann it to show 6 badly..

its bearable n pleasant at tat tym of the day..everyday..

beaten by the heat..

i resign.

CHECKMATE

Gulzaman's son

fragrances driftin in the air..
leavin traces behind..
a momentary lapse of reason , they cud be..
a shot of vodka wud ve justified this better..
deprived of which..
I Give u sumthn thats close to my heart..

Gulzaman's Son
Climbing his tortuous way from Kanzalwan, GuIzaman leaves the river, buckwheat harvests and slopes dark with conifers. His breath comes in a half-choked whistle, the air uncertain whether to burst through the lungs or whoosh out of the mouth.
He doesn't remain with his people now, among the sheepfolds and high-pasture huts. They rag him, 'GuIzaman, where is the son? Can we help?' 'Here comes the randiest ram in the valley!' They're not funny, these jibes at his virility. So each sundown he leaves for the river to sleep in a stone-breaker'spine-hut, till at dawn the sheep call him.
GuIzaman strains up the last hundred feet to reach the fold. Expectant ewes seek shelter from the wind under the lee of limestone walls. He sees his kinsmen, bearded and gaunt and broad-boned as himself, brooding over a dead kid. Rain starts hissing. There has been such heavy sleet the week past that in the sheepfolds new-borns have been dying. With the mothers wind-weakened and fed on wet grass, the lambs are still-born, floppinginert on the earth. Ewes don't even lick them and probe for hidden embers of life with their raking tongues. Broken, they turn on their sides like sacks of crushed ice.
The turf is sodden but his own fold is a small den made snug by bales of hay.His ewe snuggles up to him and bleats recognition, a thin tremolo of love blanketed by gutturals of pain. Relations crowd, darkening the doorway,as with heavily-greased arms GuIzaman examines her. Yes, the lamb is on its way! An hour later it is there, quavery-legged and wet and uncertain about its rickety, four-pronged hold on the earth. Shortly it pees. Allah be praised, now it will live. It cannot die of a chill in the stomach. Either the doorway has been cleared, or cloudshave been parted for an instant by the sun. GuIzaman picks the dun-coloured lamb and holds it to his chest. 'This', he says, 'this is my son.'
BY KEKI N DARUWALA

another question??

there s a dark feeling..less than hatred..more than loathing..

that ugly meen feel for handsome men..

its unreasonable and unjustifeid...but its always there..

hiding in the long shadow thrown by envy..

it creeps out..into the light of ur eyes..

wen u r falling in love with a beautiful woman..

SHANTARAM

wat if one no longer feels this way???

Economics thats bothering me...

heres the case..

one gold flake king size cig s 5 rs

one pack 44rs

i buy a pack n think of returnin two to shopkeeper for 8rs

my loss: .80rs

shop key s gain: 2 rs

wat if i get 10rs for d 2 fags that i return??

my gain: 1.20 rs

shop keys loss: .80rs r 0rs???