Thursday, 27 February 2014

3 Things That Inspire Me About Sachin!!

We all have big dreams but ofcourse most of us do not have the guts to follow our dreams, to cherish and keep alive the uniqueness that defines us. Three things that inspire me about Sachin? I would say just three isn't enough. A man who had the guts to follow his own passion, to do what his heart wished and inspire millions in the process is a legend. And in this world of mortals he is a God! The God of Cricket!
What I really see when I see him? His courage to follow his own dream and have the patience to see it through. To be bold enough and not worry about anything else but fulfilling that one purpose that has stirred the masses and made them worship the ground he walks on.
Another thing that I love about Sachin is his single minded focus. He is the only cricketer I believe to have retained an untarnished public image in the celebrity world. He is the very image of a trusted brand, a royal tiger untouched by the black stains of glamour that continuously haunts his world. He commands respect and his parting speech honestly moved me to tears. He took the time to thank every member in his life who had contributed to his immense success. And his respect for his soil, the ground that made him proves that he is a man of substance and true worth.
Ofcourse how can I forget!!Am a romantic and I cannot help but mention that his marriage to Anjali Tendulkar who is 7 years older than him affected me greatly and revived my faith in love. To all you romantics out there let me tell you he is an inspiration!!

Do check this out!!

(Written as part of the Speed Blogging Contest organised by Aviva Life Insurance at the Aviva Bloggers Meet.)

Sunday, 23 February 2014

Writer's Block..

I looked up at the ceiling, taxing my brains as hard as I could to force it to come up with some amazing brainwave that would instantaneously fire my imagination. I looked at the fan, the walls, the LCD placed directly ahead and screwed my eyebrows in concentration. I went out into the balcony and stared at the cat looking haughtily back at me. I made faces at the cat, stuck my tongue out, threw up my hands and pretended to do a jig and finally after no response from its end I came back inside and went back to staring at the ceiling. Ah...Writer’s block again.
My Imagination had finally decided to pack her bags and take a much needed vacation to Imagineville. After relentlessly forcing her through a whirlpool of words and sentences, she had finally thrown a tantrum and decided she had had enough of my constant obsession with writing. Before leaving she had also advised my Subconscious to incessantly remind me of her importance. Afterall, I was prone to take her for granted.
I could totally imagine my Imagination looking scornfully back at me from behind those fake nerdy glasses she so insisted I sport in real life and saying,” Serves you right for putting me through your cryptic whims and phases.” This was ofcourse essentially true. I had first forced her through the philosophical phase, then the romantic phase, then the biographical phase and finally the gloom phase. So by the time I was feeling upto the humour phase, I had checked in only to find the note she had so unceremoniously dumped with my Subconscious. In it was written in bold letters- Better luck (though I seriously doubt it) without me!!
I finally decided to emerge from my musings and opened the laptop. The blank page mocked me. I desperately prayed for some random sensible jumble of words to magically appear on the screen. But even my comrade of life seemed to be in alliance with the one hell bent on ruining my life. I sighed. It was time to honour Imagineville with my gracious presence. My Subconscious chuckled. I gave her a dirty look.
So as I closed my eyes and drifted off, she emerged from behind the doors of her mansion. Hands folded across her chest, tapping her feet to some absent beat and wearing a most infuriating expression of smugness on her face she smiled at me like someone had just sold out free rights to an unlimited supply of hot chocolate for a year. I slumped my shoulders in defeat. And ofcourse she then had to go into a detailed rant of all my nonsensical whims and idiosyncrasies. I had no option but to listen patiently. Amateur writer that I was, I was entirely dependent on Her Highness for brilliant flashes of ‘Imagination’. Miss Highty Mighty might as well vent then decide to take a lifelong vacation in the Maldives.
At this point I emerged from my trance and looked at the white blank screen. I grimaced. I did take her for granted. In my mind’s eye she smiled at me and unable to stop myself I smiled back at her. And with a sudden flash of inspiration, I started typing as fast as I could, grinning broadly the whole time.

Thursday, 13 February 2014


All I can remember is the cold and the darkness. I was born into it, grew up with it all around my existence and never knew that there was a brighter, more lustrous world up above until the day I was old enough to venture out into it. The darkness was my comfort, the deep tunnels my retreat. The little light that filtered through very rarely was an abhorrence, a plague that I avoided, fearing it was somehow potent enough to shatter my peace.
When finally the day arrived for me to go seeking out provisions for the community, an unnatural premonition of fear gripped me. I felt sick and dizzy, dragging my feet slowly through the familiar tunnels, towards the alien shimmering world above. I breathed deeply, urging my fears to lay silent and cold as with ever increasing audacity I trod through the dark underground maze.
Gradually soft light filled the tunnels, steadily dispelling the ever consistent darkness of my life, and with a sudden outburst of willfulness I rushed ahead and broke free of the sinister fear as sunlight filled my soul. I was blinded and lost, yet my life had changed forever. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the light, I was dazzled by the brilliance of the world around me. It was beautiful and astonishing, its hues filling my heart with warmth.
It was then that I saw her, standing quietly under the brilliance of the sun, her dusky skin glowing with pleasant health. She seemed to be lost in some thought of her own while the sun rays reflected off her whole being. She seemed surreal in her trance like state and I desperately wished to touch that warm skin, to feel its glow radiating through mine. And I kept coming back again and again each day to drink in her beauty. I loathed the dark tunnels now, their cold and gloom a stark contrast to everything up above. Her beauty was balm to my existence and the desire to feel her warmth kept steadily growing with each passing day.
It has been months and collecting provisions for the community is a tedious task. Yet I tread through the black tunnels towards the ever brilliant surface and look forward to seeing her up there each day. Of late I have watched her sleep, seemingly more exhausted, her glow gradually fading. A dark worry haunts her sleep and manifests itself around her eyes while her health diminishes like the setting sun on the horizon. Her skin deflates closer to her bones and a dark omen fills my heart.
So here I stand tonight, watching the moonlight fill her room with its pale hue. I creep through its vast expanse, my accelerated heart beat deafening to my own senses. The covers on her bed are soft and warm and exhilaration, thrill and ecstasy are almost blatantly palpable to my senses. Her hand lies upturned on the bed and as I stealthily climb up her wrist a deadly cold infuses my body. The warmth I had so yearned for fails to fill my being as I feel no pulse beating life through her. I recoil in fear, her death reaching out to me like suffocating tendrils craving to softly enclose round my neck. The room is suddenly flooded in pitch black darkness and I escape to the ever present deep tunnels to seek solace.

Wednesday, 5 February 2014

360 degrees..

I looked into his eyes as I fired the shot. There was no fear, no regret. The bullet ripped through his innards and his eyelids closed over those intrepid brown pools. And as his lifeless wrinkled body hit the mattress, I hurriedly stocked all his valuables into my backpack and left the place. As I jumped off the window and hit the solid ground with a loud thud, my eyes flew open and a deep silent night greeted me. I could hear distant barks and my own ears picked up almost inaudible scraps and skittering around. I looked behind me at the ivy covered, melancholy bungalow from the dream. My master lay asleep upstairs while I stood sentinel on the grounds, my eyes luminous and fiery in the dark.
The dream had haunted me ever since my master had rescued me from those vicious stray of my kind on the streets. My feeble young body, bruised and bloody, had lain in the cold, shivering from the aftermath of their assault when master had cocooned me in his warm embrace and brought me to this refuge of his ancestors. This melancholy bungalow became my domicile while master’s father (looking down with a deep contempt from the painting in the central passage) started haunting my dreams. An old wrinkled man who looked back at me with scorn while I murdered him in cold blood. The dream felt so real and familiar that it always left me with an inexplicable remorse, an eerie qualm that unsettled my peace and quiet.
Lost in this reverie, I shot up almost instantly as a strange scent rippled through my nostrils. My ears pricked and my senses instantly went on alert. Muffled footsteps, treading carefully inside the house, the smell unfamiliar and dangerous, had triggered my hyperactive senses and I immediately made for my master’s room. I ran like a lunatic, my heart beat roaring in my ears as a familiar bloodlust mugged my senses. Adrenaline and fear rushed to the surface and blurred my morals. I would tear away the intruder’s flesh, shred it to pieces and taste his blood.
 As I tore into master’s bedroom and leapt on the bed, placing myself between my master and this stranger, I looked into the thief’s eyes. There was no remorse in those desperate pools while mine looked back unflinchingly without any fear, without regrets. As I bared my teeth, he fired the shot. The bullet ripped through my innards and my eyelids slowly closed over my luminous fearless eyes. And as my lifeless body hit the mattress, the thief stocked all my master’s valuables into his backpack and jumped off the window.

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