SARKAR COUPED...

You do not know when you become a party of the history in making; as mute witness to an event steamrollering the established monoliths to raze beyond any recognition or redemption. The temptations of your senses to react are awashed by orgy of shock, disbelief, jubilation and fear of unexpected. Like they always ask- Is this end of an era or a beginning of a new journey- even this mothballed cliché transcends the wisdom of the lesser mortals for any answers to come by. Sarkar’s ‘Not so important’ gate crashing into Gristha-Ashram is such a watershed, unparalleled in its grandeur and ramifications. What if there were not any ‘Bidi Jali le’ or ‘ UP Bihar lootne’ marka Funfare around it with gunshots tremoring , sometimes the Silence speaks for itself. It is one of such occasions.
Who could have dreamt of our ‘Smiling Buddha’ in search of Nirvana, eloping with his Better half, leaving every left, right and center scratching their head with equal bemusement? “ Falling in Love is common day naivete of greenhorns, enamoured by the subliminal deception of its eternal bliss”- Haven’t we heard these words from our Sarkar so many times. Today, wheel has come back a full circle and truth has come out as a Callow Young lovebird unmasking itself from a façade of aging Angry Man.

Who gives a damn now to the Bahenji’s 52 Crore IT Return, Left’s sudden self’Right’eousness about the Industrialization or President Incumbent Taijee’s spooky premonitions, Life is so beautiful in the small world with the Lady and her priceless love.
Sarkar has learnt his lesson before it got too late. Hope this case will come to rest as open and shut and inspire others to come out of their self-deception. Still, there is not an answer to this riddle- When he already had classes in Psychology from Magadh University, why he used to wait for Shatabdi Express every morning in the Mess Lawns for GID classes?

Coffee Gate (Based on True Rumors)

Coffee Gate (Based on True Rumors)

Place: HO/CAN Bank
“Would you like to have Coffee with me?”; he asked her meekly with his voice quavering and face blushing to blood red. She was struggling with spoons and forks to relish the plate full of steaming roasted chicken fry. She said dryly, “ Coffee has to wait. Munna! Before that you have to have Tea with my Mummy. She would be pleased to see you.” She was chewing the last fatty steak of the chicken fry. After all, both of them were there for salvation from her. “ But what about you? Do you like me?” Munna prodded her. “There are so many chickens still left to be roasted. Thanks God! I will not starve ever.” she thought and grinned from ear to ear. Munna was all ears for an answer. Neither was any thing left on the plate nor were there any answers. She had gone too.

“ Better Luck next time.”; he wished himself resolutely while paying the bill in the Canteen counter. When he returned to Office, She was back in her seat next to his and was busy doing something on her desktop. He squinted to have a look on her monitor. She was uploading her full-size photo in some matrimonial web site. Now, Munna had his skin crawling with disgust,” O God! Can’t she see a suitable bachelor just next to her.” Thank God, there was LAN in this office. He sent an IP Message to her;” I am still waiting for a reply. Can’t you have a little mercy on me. Isn’t it enough?” Before he could blink, a message popped up on his Screen,” All Right! Tell me one goddamn reason to have Coffee with you.” He was totally stumped. “ There are so many ‘beautiful ‘reasons to have Her with Him for Coffee but he could not find a Goddamn reason to have Him with Her for a coffee. He is just as good as any Tom, Dick and Harry.”, he was wondering. There were already these three Tom, Dick and Harry in his life. One bum was in same office, cavorting around her all the time and other two Villains in the piece were at other Circle offices, flirting with her all the time on IP. God! Save from such friends.” A buzz brought him back to earth,” Munna! I am still waiting for your reply or should I invite someone else for Tea.” She was in no mood to relent now. He turned off the computer.


The story has got stuck at this point. Please help “Munna” to find a goddamn reason to have coffee with her. Kya Munna Coffee Pee payega? What Happened to those three Tom, Dick and Hary, troubling our Poor Munna?
For quick update, call on to toll free number-98 8089 8089:

Else wait for next episode of Coffee Gate: (Based on True Rumors)

A Mighty Heart...

They say, when it rains it pours. I was wondering why it was torrenting and tormenting my hapless heart. The day’s horoscope was equally befuddling, " Thanks to the Mercury’s continued support to Moon, you will be on the crest of a wave of great possibilities." Hell to kayaking on the waves of great possibilities, I am already neck deep in the troubled waters, flooded by the mundane of things. The ever-calling Boss and Never calling Girlfriend, an ever-ringing Cell Phone and Never inviting Neighbor, Never ending Sas-Bahu Melodrama and Ever Exposing ‘Breaking’ News Channels….. This list seems to ever increase these ingredients to put me in the Soup, so detasteful and nauseating. And you just can’t even wish them away.

Somehow, I had found my own way to not let me screwed by these great possibilities unraveling every day in my life. I started reading a big fat Book by a Best selling Management Guru. After grinding through those 800 tortuous pages, I got a inkling what that Guru was trying hard to tell me, " Be a Man of your own destiny.". I made a promise to myself to be a different Man from then onwards. Super Stuff was flowing inside me. But Destiny had other plans in store for me. My resolve vanished into thin air the very next day when I went to my corner Kirana Store to buy a Mosquito Repellant. Shopkeeper showed me variants of mosquito repellants- Malaria, Dengue, Chickenguniya … there was one variant for AIDS too. Heavens! Do I really have any choice to be Man of my own Destiny. I can’t decide on the things as lousy as Mosquito repellant.
Is there any way to find solace for my Mighty Heart? May be it needs a sod little excuse to smile and enjoy. Forget global warming. El Nino or fickle westerly disturbances, I was praying to Rain God for the early showers of Monsoon. Let it rain, pour and invigorate new seeds of hope in my Barren Heart.
Come and Join me in welcoming the Monsoons…FOR SAKE OF MY ALONE MIGHT HEART.

Shootout of Suitor...

" You are just one of my good friends" I was least expecting this turn to my much awaited proposal to her. These sugarcoated words sounded like the bitter pill that I had to gulp once again. I was in catatonic trance wondering how many times in the past also every other girls had saved it so diligently for me. These words had the clinical precision to quench my thirst to find a sweet honey for me. Unfortunately, They only had a psychedelic effect at least for a couple of weeks before I inveterately started again to fool around with some pretty young things. With so many colours flashing in my face, she still was not over with her didaction," See! you are a popcorn stuff. Neone would like to pass time with you. But, Sweet-candies are made up of different stuff." That analogy was incomprehensible for me and i was staring at her with utmost dumbness. She also understood my situation. This time, her tone was a little sympathetic," Believe me, it does not mean.. You are loser. You still can make it but with some other girl. You need to repackage yourself a great deal." Now, things were going into totally different territory but I felt a faint sense of hope in it. I only nodded a bit, a big frog was itching in my throat leaving me speechless. Though mind has starting following her every word. “ U look so Raw and unCOOL. Metal frame of your specs has gone rusty for so long and even your sense of dressing has got all the downtown taste. Boyfriends are made up of sunglasses, dandy T-Shirts, stone washed Jeans and overpriced branded shoes. And don’t forget the glitzy bike for a long drive after having dinner at some Italian Restaurant in the evening.” She stopped for a moment to take a long breath and then dropped the last bombshell, “ Mind you! This all comes with a price.”

There was eerie silence in the empty classroom. Our ‘important’ discussion has ended for which I had stopped her during the recess before going for Lunch. She had already reached the doorway of the Classroom. “Where am I amid this all Boyfriend Crap?”, I shouted at her. “You are still one of my good friends.” Reply came from her before she disappeared. Lot of grass has been mown at Lawn since then. And, that rusty metallic frame is still hanging from the bridges of my nose and I am trying hard to get for myself those Boyfriend Craps. Least to mention that I am continued to get popcorned by the PYTs

Koffee With AKM...

Welcome to your favorite show “Coffee with AKM”, we are having tonight the sensational “Delight to all Geela eyes” Cynosure on our show to speak her heart out. This program is exclusively being Live on air on Astha Channel as prime time was not available on other channels, incidentally this is also the favorite channel of today’s Beauty of the Show.

AKM: Welcome to our Hot Midnight Show, “ Coffee with AKM”

Cynosure: HIIEEEEEEEEEEEE…

AKM: Let us start with from where it has really started, I mean from IRMA. Not a long time ago , there you used to be Bomb shell , isn’t it? How it felt being really cynosures of hundred odd eyeballs?
Cynosure: Hmm…. it was great. I still relish those moments whenever I remember them. It was also new and unexpected for me then. But, its all over now….

AKM: Can u a bit throw more light on this…
Cynosure: if I say it straight.. it means that they were all “ Frogs in well “ at that time. So , they can’t see beyond us that time and now suddenly they are swimming in the sea and have lot of bigger and golden fishes to fry. So…

AKM: So… it hurts now.. But isn’t it true that you also have broken many a hearts of those frogs at IRMA?

Cynosure: Everyone does mistake. I also did. But, Didn’t I have the right to choose My Mr. Right. This is the problem with media, you don’t want to see the other side of coin. I was also heartbroken after IRMA … but does anyone care about it As if vamps can’t weep or they don’t have heart

AKM: We will take a short break as things are really getting hotter … Don’t go away anywhere … we will be right back. This part of this show was sponsored by “ICBI Bank”, … Hum Hain naaa

AKM: Welcome back to “ Coffee with AKM” again. Before we continue with Q & A with the Cynosure, we invite “ Janta Ka Phaisla” our Special SMS Poll, asking for justice to our beloved Cynosure..Send your SMS replying to our today’s question,” Shouldn’t he/she be thrown into Arabic Sea or Bay of Bengal (whichever is nearer) for breaking the heart of our Cynosure?”

AKM: Ok.. Let us leave his topic until comes the “Janta Ka Phaisla”. Let us talk about something else. Is marriage on the cards? Or do you have anything to say to the other Cynosures who are getting married.

Cynosure: I haven’t thought about it yet neither am I in haste. But, I do believe in Marriage as Institution. It is only that I am not yet prepared for it. For others, I can only say that “Better late than Never.”

AKM: You seem to be getting plumper than your yesteryears…

Cynosure: I was expecting this question to come by. I don’t mind adding some more fat here and there than dying by anorexia. Any way, I am feeling more like Homely and matured now days. I may have talked about frogs and fishes but I am strictly on Veg. This reminded me that I have to do Yoga watching Ramdev Baba on the same channel. So , can we call it a day for tonight

.AKM: Sure, but let me also confess at the end that I was also one of your silent admirer..

Cynosure: Was ….?

AKM: Yeah… I am also no longer that ignorant frog.Ok… that ends the tonight’s show of “ Coffee with AKM” with our own Cynosure… Hope u still have lot of questions to ask her… She will again join us on coffee next week till then you keep sending your questions so far kept wrapped deep inside your heart.Next Program: Yoga with Baba Ramdev….

A Story untold so often...

“A little corruption. A little bribery. I negotiate with the world 24 /7. So why not an extra 5 minutes of sleep?” he told himself and buried his head under the pillow. And so began another day in the life of an Indian commoner, this time in the incarnation of a migrant Auto rickshaw driver. Yesterday evening, he had got the news of opposition parties protesting today again as Black Day against Government’s anti poor policies. “Auto rickshaws become the manifestation of this popular discontent against anything; be it government, municipality, university, multinationals or now a days even against all powerful America too, so better not venture out today with tyres burnt or glasses broken on the road” he thought. Even weather was far from relenting as chilling waves were shuddering his bones inside his tattered “Kholi”; wobbling precariously with those gutsy cold waves. A month back only Municipality Bulldozers had knocked off his Kholi as his small 8* 5 Kholi was not fitting into the Master Plan of the City. He had found a place for his Kholi near to that demonic transformer, fickling disgouging ever now and then spark of its fury against overloading by residents of that Unauthorized Colony. Last night; One of his fellow auto driver had told him a very intriguing detail of the strike that something called “IT industry” has been exempted from this strike and no one at Desi Liquor Stall has ever heard about this industry. “May be even people poorer than them work there, so are spared from the daily dose of Bandhs.” they all commiserated for those hapless “IT workers” with sloshing the last glass of liquor. Though, light had slowly started to peep from the hazy clouds, still he couldn’t muster enough courage to get out of his pillows. Somehow, he took his hands out of his pillow and switched on his FM radio. It blurred a cacophony and he mercilessly gave it a big slap on its back. Surprisingly, radio purged out a sweet and tender girly voice announcing playing a hit dance number. Last night’s hangover was still niggling and that rocking music was pricking on his mind. Another slap on the radio and it was silent to dead. A big clock hanging on the wall in front of his bed was showing nine and he left his bed in a trance as a sense of urgency crept in spite of it being a forced upon free day today. Luckily or unluckily; his family had gone to their village so he was alone. He has never felt such an irresistible need to find an excuse to kill his time like this before, he couldn’t wait this day to die its natural death second by second. There was no place to go in this big city for him though he has taken his passengers to every nook and corner of this place, first time this truth was staring in his face so point blankly. He came out of his house as if loneliness was slowly tightening the noose around him. First thing he saw was his auto rickshaw standing in front of his door; appearing equally bemused like him. At last, he got his companion for the day going through the same motions of being alone in this ever-growing crowd. He got on the steering wheel of auto and drove slowly to find his passenger for the day. Who knows he may find some of those hapless “IT People” waiting somewhere to reach to their places on this strike day

Connecting the Dots..

There were innumerable dots in the canvass untidily staggered; some bright and some fading away. The more did I grope to connect those dots, the more I entwined into the maze, following the stories imprinted by those dots. On the face of it, those were the stories of poor farmers’ sheer defeatism and surrender to hopelessness by taking away their own lives. But, You just have to scratch a bit the surface of it and something very unusual comes to fore. Most of these farmers were so called progressive farmers; who were ready to ride onto the so-called second green revolution by venturing into the remunerative cash crops; availing easy “At your Doorstep” Credit from the local Cooperative societies. Then, what really went wrong in this magical formulae of people’s organization like Cooperatives reaching out to the last mile of the farmlands to guide them from subsistence farming to progressive farming. May be the very idea of being cooperative and easy credit was flawed. People never realized that they were lured into the vicious debt cycle after availing the loans from these primary societies at exorbitant rate, much more than what other financial institutions were offering at. This sheer anomaly of highly differentiated pricing for the farmers from different financial institutions (By Government’s own Farming conscious policy Decisions) brought total havoc to Agricultural Finance; which never became a Real Market Place. But, was there any way to these Nationalized Banks for these farmers? First and foremost, the farmers are still considered to be “Unbankable” and then long drawn process with minutely written documents in English and the Managers sitting in these Banks not understanding their language create mayhem with them. More so Technically, once a cooperative society gets an encumbrance over the farmers’ land, they just becomes totally “Out of Bounds” to Banks for any finance. So, big talk of doubling the agriculture credit, financial inclusion and 4 % growth of Agriculture never saw the light of the day in these vast tracts of farmlands. Alternatively, these so-called cooperative societies had mushroomed everywhere, catering to the any need of these farmers at a price that ends up being asking too much finally. What was supposed to be a voluntary membership to the Cooperatives actually became opportunism to have a share in the “Loot” of Government money which was pumped every year to revive these “Dying” Institutions. As the health of these cooperative societies debilitated and Government slowly fastened its “Everflowing” purse strings, the peer pressure of other members and office bearers turned the heat into these farmers. One Newspaper article sums up the grim picture showing one farmer’s suicide Note as saying, “ He is ending up his life because he cannot stand watching his land being auctioned to repay his old debt.” Daily harassment, abuse, fear of losing the land and intermediaries not giving enough prices, pushes them to a wall with their back. There appears no future on horizon and present totally indebted. Suddenly, he come across a news item of one farmer suiciding in the similar conditions and Government giving a big lump sum money as “Compensation” to the deceased family. He knows that this is the moment of life for him and more so for his family. So, you find another dot glaring in this canvass with another story of lost hope. Next day, CSO releases its statistics with a news of Indian Economy rebounding with impressive 9 % growth as its cover story and that cliched suicide story relegates to inside page at some distant corner. The dots are getting bigger and far too many...

It happens only in India..

It happens only in India. We are a nation living constantly on the emotions, sometimes it may be our sheer apathy to the most goriest of things and sometimes our fierce commotion against trifle incidents defying any sense or logic. Incidentally, we all are living with multitudes of identities with their own idiosyncrasies in constant interplay with the instant stimuli. The news of Tsunami victims forced to sell their kidneys does not evoke even mildest reactions from us but alleged racism with one of our Bollywood actresses in “Foren land” leaves even the biggest leaders throwing tantrums. Then, we see an ocean of people running like chickens without head in the “Biggest Marathon on the World” for some cause- even not remembered till the finish line . Cheer for the indomitable spirit of Nation. Still we are the most sadist people on this planet; Who knows it more than our “Dada”; living each day to the “Bare it all” public gaze, fighting it out every match like a Gladiator just to die another day. As much the happiness or pain is some one else, that much is better for our own consumption. Our own pain sucks and happiness is far and few. So, what is this which is keeping us alive - the original sin of voyeurism or our indifference to every other thing which is not “mine”. There are no answers except telltale signs left by some stories. Saddam’s execution at furthest land leaves us high and dry and we smile gleefully when Bush somberly says in his annual address, “we cannot defeat in Iraq…..”. The daily dose of Newspaper means being updated with the latest body count in Bagdad as much as the temperature of the City where we live. The triumphant Sania at Tennis Court leaves us punching our hands and Shehwag is just another failed guy from the pantheons of “Our Heroes”. It’s all Greeks for us when our President talks so passionately about making India a developed country by 2020.
We have become master of playing hide and seek with the world sometimes ignoring it, sometimes blowing it out of proportion. We are constantly making and breaking the worlds of others, never minding that there is someone at some other place waiting to see you on wrong foot. On that day, you will be fodder to move him a bit. Check it out. What has kept you moving so far…

Encounter...

This is season of encounters, out of blue someone would pump all the "Ammo" into your heart. Neither are there any close shaves nor u get a whiff of fatal blow before it finishes u off. No longer are u a man with alive senses. You are dead for all "practical" purposes but one.These serial killers are beasts of their own rights, ulteriorly deceptive and always hit you where it hurts( pleases??) most. Surprisingly, they never stalk , u follow them and come close and let them play with u till u become a hapless "prey" ready to get maimed. Most of us set themselves up for this encounter and few find thenselves trapped in the firing line. Finally, everone learns to live undet the "thumb" or behind the " shadow" of these serial killers. It follows literally the " Kiss of Death" and then a pretty, shy, smiling and innocous looking albatross sits around ur neck for rest of your "Just Marred Life". Belive me, its not an adevertant spelling mistake , u slip into just Marred Life from Just Marr(I)ed Life in a jiffy as "I" gets vapourised off from your new HUMTUM lIFE. nO MORE r u a proud and baudy "Single", you are now a demur and refective "Couple" learining the law of multiplication in different way.Still, u love not to regret for this escapade and spend your life deciphering the certain"uncertain" and uncertain " Certain" demand swings of Serial killer. Afer all, it is still the sweetest encounter ever happned in your life. And u continue to die everyday with the fresh salvos of her WMDs of Sweet Love.

This is my humble tribute to "Just Marr(I)ed Friends". May God give their tortured souls eternal bliss.