Whore or a Goddess?

I look around in my house. I revere my mother and dote on my sister.
However, as I venture out, I metamorph into someone sinister.

A bashful mind feels utmost discomfort when the girls, whom I stare at, try to talk.
What if I am branded an indecent man? Of all the sins, it would be blasphemous to have been accused to gawk!

The one who speaks her mind doesnt deserve my tender gaze.
She is loose. She is the one who has fallen from grace.

A million dreams of wetness isn't enough to satiate my depravity.
I am above atonement for this transgression as her skirts defy gravity.

She can be a teacher, she can be nanny and she can be a maid.
But if she is an executive, she is expecting to be laid.

Her bosom is tender and her breasts are supple. Her hips sway as if they are mimicking God's pendulum!
No no no! All these are complementary, as I care only for her inner beauty!

But I would damn her and her entire clan, if the wretched harlot has lost her virginity.
It is irrelevant even if it was due to rape, accident or a decomposed relationship as she has insulted my virility

I have been bought up to respect a fully clothed woman
And term a women showing her skin as a whore.
Yet, whenever I visit temples in South India, I stand forlorn and confused.
Because there She beholds, without covering her chest, her entire splendor!

Relief!

Blogging! Laying out my naked thoughts on a public forum! Expressing whatever I want to without a care in the world!

Gosh! I haven't been doing this since a long time! But now, its back to typing on my blog!

Corporates Cancel Candour

Greetings,

Posting after what seems like an eternity makes me feel refreshed. Today I post about how it is very difficult to be diplomatic in the corporate world.

For most of us, the door to enter corporations is a premier institute which offers a well designed MBA programme. And all Indians who are aware of the education scenario in our country certainly vouch for the stringent admission process employed by all the top tier B-Schools located in different states which essentially consists of an enterance exam which tests your aptitude followed by a group discussion or a case study and a personal interview (which can be very grilling for a few unlucky souls!)

My armchair criticisms about the obsoleteness of the aptitude tests and the irrelevance of grilling interviews will be elaborated later as presently I am trying to point out the boring and ubiquitous reasons parroted out by all MBA aspirants who somehow get to trudge on till the personal interviews. Many of us are trained by the omnipresent coaching classes which ensure that we end up attending atleast 10-15 mock GDPI sessions where we the real reason for most of us to pursue an MBA, the moolah, is systematically wheezed out of our brains and is replaced with gems such as 'to expand my horizons', 'to broaden the scope of my skills', 'to morph me into an employable asset' and my favourite - ' to be of relevance in the industry'. As if being a human being aint relevant! And it is ok if we forget about these lines, but it is absolutely imperative that we downplay the monetary element which is a prime factor for more than 98% of all those who are aspiring to pursue an MBA. It is an agnostically sacrilegious deed to be candour and express the true motivation behind pursuing an MBA.

Ahh! An MBA can be a better diplomat than those in the IFS!

Melancholy..

Greetings,

Being perpetually happy is the best way to live life. But, when sadness is nurtured, life is just a medium. A portal. A link between an unknown origin and an inevitable death. A random route, which when travelled on, reveals fascinating sceneries.

To sustain sadness one needs to understand the reason or reasons for doing so. The loss of a loved one, the belief that premature death is imminent, the sheer loneliness of living a relationshipless life, the breakdown of all will to achieve anything except the desire to never experience bliss and a multitude of other causes will force one to seek a melancholic life.

Fostering blues is not everyone's cup of tea. Like most elegant creations, it is an art by itself.
Tending a broken heart is very noble as well as an excruciating examination of gauging one's emotional intelligence. Appearing distressed forever or seeking sympathy wouldnt be an act of a mature melancholic mind. It would just be an expression of seeking attention.

A pebble is enough to shatter glass. But even the most expensive length of exquisite thread which has been inserted into the eye of a needle most fine, cannot mend a wounded organ of love. But the organ will still keep beating as the sadness which was born during its lynching will transform into a seeking soul. A soul which seeks peace only in symphony with sullenness.

A short and random post

Greetings,

I am posting utter nonsense tonight. If you are interested in reading it then please go ahead!

I am the King of Khambhoj and I want to marry the Queen of Sparta,
but she loves Arjuna of Hastinapura and desires to be his eternal companion.
So I decide to indulge myself in one of my European slave called Martha,
but she is very annoyed at my demeanour and forces me to peel an onion.

But then and there I decide that I am not accepting defeat so easily,
and therefore I decide to kidnap the woman of my dreams.
But then fate has her habit of adding to the misery,
and thus my army rebels against me and affording a collection of a thousand men is way beyond my earthly means!

Then Martha inveigles me to make love to her seductive self,
and that is when I wonder who is bigger: the dwarf or the elf!?
I manage to switch on my gramaphone which plays a hundred songs,
but none so sweet as Elvis's Love Me Tender!

Yawwnnnnnn........goodnite! ;)

Running out of the retrospecting realm

Have I lost IT!? Have I lost my enthusiasm?! Have I lost my zeal, my zest to live a wonderful life?! Have I begun doubting my abilities as a leader, as an innovator, as a thinker, as someone who can win against any odds posed by the machiavellian elements of an unsuspecting future?

These questions have been plaguing my harangued mind since the last debacle that frustrated my sense of purpose and forced my to contemplate hard about my prospects. I felt more than just pinched when I realized that I was going to be one those rats who would be left behind in yet another random rat race that had insecured little rodents behaving in a way which would make Scooby Doo seem the emperor of all courageous souls there ever have been! But then, everyone of us who retrospects a lot keeps worrying about the forebordings of an alluring yet anonymous future. But then, I have also realised that I am not a rat. By no means am I being disrespectful to those industrial little critters, but since when has a homo sapien started feeling like a rodent?

Yes, I do have my set of ambitions for my self, my family, my love and my fellow men ( and women! ;) ), but I will not let them intimidate my individualism just because of a random roadblock. But at the same time I shall not back out from an engaging combat.
I know I have never lived up to my potential. I know I have lost certain crucial matches of my short yet continuing life. But then, excellence is not a trait. It is achieved by habit. And the habit stays when u start winning. You start winning when you keep trying and you commence trying when you desire your wants.

So let me not procrastinate and begin by wanting. Wanting to live a full life. Wanting to love my sweetheart even more. Wanting to achieve improbable targets! And yes, probably one day, I would also want to stop wanting!!


Try I must and try I will and I shall keep trying till I can!
- Sham (the one with a million dollar smile ;) )

Elegy of a warrior

I can see the sky. I am lying on my back and waiting for Deliverance. The smell of death has never smelt so sweet. I have waged a thousand battles and won uncountable wars. I have fought along side the bravest of men against the most vicious of adversaries. But today has certainly not been my day. Innumberable wounds have lacerated my body and maggots are feasting on the fresh wounds which are searing every square inch of my flesh. Yet, it feels as if I am making love to a most divine damsel.
The crown which used to adorn my head has been cut into two and bears a silent testimony to the days when it alone commanded unwavering loyalty and inspired many a braveheart to wage war in my name. My sword is still held by my hand. But my hand is no longer mine. The bow which I have wielded since the day I learnt to shoot arrows has been unstrung , yet it hasnt lost its splendour as its golden midriff still incites greed in the heart of men, even when they are dying a death most wretched.
Flashes of an eventful life and times begin passing through the rapidly darkening corridors of my mind. To exclaim that my life was eventful would just be a modest understatement. I can visualize a kaleidoscope of images. Images of my mother chasing me all around our palace with a glass of milk,my father cajoling me to outdo my elder siblings in every game we played, the teacher encouraging me to believe in my abilities and the beholding of the most purest form of love, that of my beloved, with her eyes evading mine as countless apprehensions and expectations are whirling a cyclone in her innocent mind.
I leave nothing to posterity. My beloved must have cut her belly by now. My inability to win one more army, one more kingdom has cost the life of my soldiers, my generals, my beloved and the grey soul within my brown skinned body is awaiting retribution.I have killed many and saved even more, but as the amber rays of the sun are inviting the denseness of the last dusk I shall witness in this life, I lie in peace. I smile. Not because a smile can mask a million sorrows, but because my mind,soul and heart were one whenever I set out to conquer. Many who live have been conquered. But I am dying unconquered...