Scribbles

This Friday, got up alive. Lungs took O2 in and CO2 out. Small intestines were ready to make the whole day shit come out. Then suddenly at 10:30 am, Atika tagged me in the feed, which said “BJMC VI semester exams to begin from 2 May 2014. I went clueless. Then I closed my eyes, pretended that I read nothing. I was dead for that while.Annihilation The semester exams are the great gamble. Who will become the topper, one never knows. “Unpredictable” is the best word to describe. Papers are OK, but is the viva voce that I can’t stand.(l feel more stand less than Mr. Manmohan Singh).this is one reason why I never praise my teachers to the fullest or bring them gifts, as they   have got no role to play in our viva. It depends on the stranger, the outstation examiner. Last time one great legend landed, he gave us so much land to think that we had the best viva ever. He praised us to the heights for our photography projects. His admiration for Deepshikha had so much intensity that ...

In her dilapidated house Jashodaben sits on the old wooden chair. The wooden chair is also symbolic of her life-destroyed by termite (marriage.)Like wood is not aware of what is killing it inside, she remained ignorant of what destroyed her from within. Only today she realizes what really it was. She is reading the newspaper that is full of rhetoric delivered by her kind of husband in the rallies. These elections only one liners, empty rhetoric, word gamble has been in the news, modified and amplified by social media. Suddenly the wind of anger touches her face; it has stirred her soul within. She realizes that it has been ‘her life’ since she had been bearing the badge of ‘Modi’s wife’. Thus she decides to write to the women of the country regarding the mirage of marriage. Unlike her husband she cannot afford PR agents or ad agencies. She has to prepare her speech on her own; she takes down the old diary, which has yellow pages. Over half century old anger, hurt, agony c...

Today the college is organizing the seminar themed “women, shame and societal taboos”. this timed the responsibility to represent the college is handed over to Nysha and Siddhant .though these two never get together ,for college prestige they have spent two sleepless nights to write paper on the theme and prepare the exquisite presentation. The chaos is in on the campus. Arrangements are checked, re-checked. Everybody is busy doing something or the other they probably don’t have idea about. As usual Siddhant tries being smart with Nysha knowing that she has the habit to read newspaper early morning. He comes with usual naughty language skills .he says “hey Nysha today I read the complete newspaper.” Nysha was quick with her riposte and exclaims in speed “COMPLETE NEWSPAPER .what are you saying man. What are doing here, you should be in Putin’s army, he requires person like you to unite soviet.” Siddhant feels why in the hell he said something like that to her and with apology...

April -8-2030 Dear daddy Dad just got up and somehow managed to sit on the chair and arrange the table to write to you. Still last night’s hangover is not done. The fumes of cigarette are creeping in from my room’s door. My empty beer bottle is lying on the floor shamelessly. My nostrils and mouth still smelling vodka. But only for you bloody dad I got up to write. Yes because I am Honey Singh’s daughter .like father, like daughter attitude. I am slut in other’s eye but who cares. After it’s the she honey Singh’s bang..World should better be aware of. Oh dad by this time did you get depressed .great. As a child when I got the lyrical and musical violence in my ears of your talent, I used to wonder how world would respond if a girl wrote those vulgar and abusive songs. What if a woman rapped the male vital organs and brutally insulted it. Would society have accepted this? To test it I became the she honey Singh and the result is just what I thought of. Like you I had a h...