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[prakhnster]

Aadat

Kisi Roz Kisi Tanhayee mein,

Shaamein ghuzar jaati Hain,

Aakhon ki parchaiyon mein,

Yaadein utar aati Hain,

Ki tum alfaaz padhti ho,

Aur main jazbaat likhta hoon,

Pyaar nahi pehchaante,

Aatish ko nahi jaante,

Bhaarein phool barsayengi,

Aur tum Khushi se bheeg jaaoge!

[prakhnster]

Post after snog!

Will we be alright together,

Like I'm breaking my own heart,

Perhaps to let sunshine through the cracks next morning,

So now I write you poetries and letters,

With pencils so that you can rub,

Somethings you can't understand,

As you and your narratives change through time,

Each time you fall in love,

It's time you kiss a girl,

You never know what is worth,

All I wanna know is if you love her,

How come you never give in.

You’ve been locked in here forever ,

you just can’t say goodbye

You play dead, but you never bled

Instead you lie still in the grass all coiled up & hissing

Iknow that you say I get mean,

But then again sometimes I get really sweet

So what does it mean if I tell you to go fuck yourself

Or if I say that you're beautiful to me

So when it's late we'll say we're still wide awake,

We love to talk about how you'll come up to visit me

Kisses on the foreheads of the wrapped in your arms

You’ve been hiding them in hollowed out pianos left in the dark.

Midnight of feeling empty,

Everlasting wine nailpaint,

A flower with life lights of sunshine,

A flower with life smells of love.

[prakhnster]

Abstract

Ummedon ka ye samaan, Jo tumme bhi hai mujhme bhi, Chahat ka ye sitam, JO mujhme bhi hai, Tumme bhi hai, Chahe tum kuch Na Kaho, Khamoshi se befikr, Palkon se dakhi ye nazar, Kuch sir sairata tumme bhi hai Mein bhi hai, Betardibi ki ye nazar, Tumme bhi hai mujhe bhi hai Chahat ka ye samaan, Tumme bhi hai, Mujhme bhi hai,

[prakhnster]

Sundays come slowly!

Sometimes you are aware of your aloneness,staying put night after nights in the lab oblivious to the incumbent labor and motivated to make things fly out of raw materials mixed in the dust trampled beneath your feet.

I decided to stuff in and finish off all the snack's that accumulated space from the previous visits to home. I started with the packet of salted cashewnuts which have been lying for months,circling my knee caps with left hand fingertips and crushing open the Nur from its roasted shell amid the crackling sound by my index finger and  thumb. By the time I had finished 200 grams of cashewnuts, I developed a lame super power of crackling shells in flat two seconds with my index finger and the thumb.

A few hours later on target were the Mangoes,jiggling my lower jaw as I peeled them. Why is it that we find pleasure in small things of life but vindicate them for larger goals in life. Sometimes you find yourself a misfit to your own standards. The local indie music put in the entire day thanks to the Soundcloud’s new Track station algorithm.

Got up when my body signalled me to. Took gentle warm shower alternating with sudden bursts of cold sprays sending my neural system to rapid shocks instead of the usual scrub-clean-rinse. Finished the first draft of hitherto half baked script for a short animated film.

The following evening I felt myself a date in the neighbouring bar. Its amazing to watch girls dress up. The angular blades of her shoulder moved rhythmically with bones protruding off her back. 

“You mentioned you were sapiosexual,I’m not guilty ma'am”.

Those tiny little specks of hair went down till the nape,there should be some term to it maybe as fascinating as petrichor. After an exhausting bout of dance.

“Say me those three magic words,will you?”

“I can cook!”

“You sound like someone who likes to move fast and talk smooth!” “I clean up good and hold my own”.

“How many LITs will it be before we wind up in my bed?”

“Well depends on whether a gracious high class woman like you would keep sipping on the same or wipe off my old monk!”

“You sure,aren’t going to kill me on the road?Watch out you’ve got a lawyer on your bike! Andar karwa dungi”

“Hold me tight ma’am,its not the speed that will kill you but the thrill might! Azaad panchi andar se bhi udaan bhar lete hain,azmaa ke dekhlo!”

“Did you know? Wine connoisseur have a rabid term to call themselves Wine Wankers.” We drank and spoke of our travels, she had been to French Riveria,Scotland,Portugal while I managed to name and explain places that were similar in India.

First the eye shadow went off. Then the cheekbones,then the forehead and subsequently the jawline. Keep the lipstick, I quipped. She asserted with a sheepish smile.

The cupboard opened,down left were 4 blackish brown totes,up in the hangars were upperwear from tank tops to ponchos. OCD. Bras stacked up on each other on three simultaneous hooks. Definitely OCD.

“How do you have such silky,smooth,shiny,nice smelling hair?”

“You promise,you wont tell it anyone”,

“ I won’t”

“I use mayonnaise before I wash it with conditioner”

“Whats you secret? I like the way you smell? You don’ smoke do you?”

“ Nope! I You mean the body odour?”

“No this.alpha,smell?”

“Just spray a bit of perfume on diluted lotion and rub it post bath! Chiropractic alchemy!”

Have you ever noticed that girls flinch their eyes,eyebrows pop up and twitch lips while tying a hair bun? All 3 involuntary movements at the same time. With everyone of XY chromosome.

“Great dates end up with a handsome,good guy cooking breakfast in the morning. I’m afraid this might turn out to be one!”

“Technically its 2 in the night,I am neither a good guy nor have been complemented as handsome”

“You are handsome.of course in an unnerving way! Not the way I like it with boys!”

“Someone who can see naked through the facade of a hot-shot broke,wild child is unnerving?!”chuckle and zip up!

“You usually end this with a goodbye kiss or walk away? Who goes to work at 2 in the morning!”

“I work with things that appear in the night”

“Ghosts or lunatics?”

“Astrodynamics!”

“So how bright are my stars tonight,Mr? Do I get lucky again?”

“Well you haven’t appreciated my fusili, M(e)y lord!”

“You seem to have a commitment phobia”.

I gave a sly smile and left. This one is the next mistake!

This week at work should be really productive.

[prakhnster]

Pyaar ka Chumma!

(Yet another message in a bottle filled with miring crosslinked thoughts flashing in the head and absolute restlessness to edit)

The globalization effect on Earth has helped broker peace between the developed or fast developing nations. The premise has been profoundly subjected to amicable understanding like a nasty neighbour whom you hate from the guts but quickly resolve the issues because its life and he/she brings you the tastiest baked cakes during Christmas. The real challenge now lies in our capability to expore the extra terrestial and survival as inter planetary species. I started an Aerospace entity straight out of college and will break it down to you with a very simple example. A scientist is like a martian kid on a relentless pursuit to create. After a couple of years an inventor or discoverer realises the jest and joy in creating something unique and extraordinary as his sole purpose of life. He is okay with no yachts and Gucci shoes. You require an audience to put up a show,if you make a film with all your hearts but no one is willing to watch and connect you feel disowned and thoroughly  disconnected. The charm of a Gucci shoe in a research lab weans off as quickly as solid ice in water. A scientist is like that nasty kid trying to make a swing out of rags and banyan tails and one day.Woof! It propels you out of the sky. The irony is there are substancial part of his life that money can buy. Just like an artist needs to focus on belting new tunes or piroutte on the dance floor with complete disregard to the aspects of survival. To create your mind must be free and devoid of uncertainty, you need to lose and shun the aspect of worry and set yourself free. To balance both these is where the real battle lies. The period where I cumulatively spend night after night designing and optimizing parachutes these days are probably the happiest period as you are completely oblivious of your own existence much like meditation. There cant be a greater high in life than creating an aerospace module with 6 inch thick sheet of Aluminium and million other dials to travel to Mars all manufactured out from the sand you trample everyday beneath your feet. If money was never an option I would have still done this for a living. Thats's hard when you want to manage life and creativity of 11 enthusiastic youths and married men under you. Not something I had expected at this age to start off.

After the process of creativity you are exhausted. I ride my Royal Enfield Himalyan which I lapped in May this year,a Schnell Snipper 3 mountain bike,a self made 6 inch telescope and a self fabricated drone. Along with a 3D printer I made last month, together they amount to 4 Lac rupees of my savings splurged. Too whacky or prudish for a 22 year old to make. The treks, rides and rendezvous are mostly solo. It gives me a great time to introspect and recharges to work tirelessly all over. If there is any substantial outcome from it, its been a fact that I have been life akin a brash racing drag car, often going relentlessly in pursuit with no throttle barred and subsequently losing gas over the miles. This amounts to a lot of incomplete projects and half baked ideas. I firmly believe anything you have honestly done comes back to use one way or the other. That said, I am awaiting when my 12th grade proficiency in Organic Chemistry will come handy :D . You  need a lawyer to pave way for a smoother and harmonious transformation to shape the future. You need an Sauvé accountant to facilitate the journey. The way to overcome this is probably to indulge and develop myself in Endurance sports. I have been playing squash for over 6 years and with adventure touring bike this should help. I have been acing half marathons near about 2 hours so sheepishly getting there. This is utmost essential since an aircraft from concept to design to prototyping to induction takes around a good 3 decades. People in general are sceptical to accept standalone revolutions happening in a short span of time. The industry is ruthless and ever changing with incessant multitasking development. There have been instances where big entities in the field of Computational Simulation have nicked me off project by constant lobbying. To be really honest, every time I feel like letting loose carnage on them I am reminded of what Rahul Dravid said to his wife on being confronted by her over politics in the Indian Cricket Board, he quipped - "Despite all of this, the game has given me so much joy that it diminishes the rest ".

What we need is an entire generation of engineers to bring a change in the culture with companies in Avionics,control and dynamics,propulsion and decelerator systems,liasoning and talent grooming.

I tried putting on a suit and giving on formal debates, even won a Special Mention award in United Nations Organization of Outer Space Activities , I convinced myself I to refrain shaping policies sitting in an air conditioned room and instead try to focus on something hands-on. Somewhere between the period of 1940s and now the Industry has taken backseat. An initiative of J.N. Tata took shape into IISC Bangalore,post World War- The automotive factory of Walchand Industries became HAL. AR & DB 1971. Now,the machinery has come to a grinding halt! Age to kickstart,break down the walls by coaxing or brute force and bask in the shining light of the new found sun.

The leverage of the technology is so emphatic that since the inception of Earth you've had primates and subsequently humans have been at war to acquire advanced weaponry or lately put in proxy war to sell them. This industry has demolished and build nations.The parachute industry for example,has been limping on the pace of the R&D  In the retrospect you have less time with family and non-existent love life except for a few flings on the weekends. The dirty secret remains we love it to the bits, to initiate something from the scratch, nurture it as it grows and find it turning into a mammoth industry influencing thousands of people for good on the way to the pinnacle.

Its alright to not be alright. When in trouble and rough times, fire-fighting through cash crunches, attrition and self doubt, which happens almost every other day, you can draw influences from your past, people you look upto or simply imbibe good virtues from the lady you spent the night with. I have been lucky that way, I started making money at the age of 12 by winning football matches. You would carry 10 bucks you Daadi (grandma) gave you on last visit and win 10 bucks from the opposite team. So that means 10 bucks to enjoy an ice gola with rainbow of flavours and 10 bucks to put in for the next match. Once, I convinced the entire team to put in 40 rs each and we won. Happened twice, we raised our price and lost more than 100 subsequently. It didn't matter then, we had bunked a lot of school and nailed a lot of medals. I then tried to arrange a fresher's party in colleges of Bombay during junior college but a bomb blast closed the deal. Teaching Math was quite productive, it gave me an essence of chronological thinking pattern and money to buy a good pair of sneakers and jeans to college. My funda was simple - Kaam hojayega aur kisi ko pata bhi nahi chalega.

The odds are stacked against me. Who wants a man from a broken lineage,brought up earning from garages,door to door selling and tutions,who studied in a below par college to whiff the world by his wind?!

If I put have my entire life trying to create ridiculously cool things,be it,I'd rather die on the predicament and save myself an embarrassment of a fruitless life.Time to train like an athlete with dedication,channelling the inner anger and so pointed ego to be on top of this game called happiness. On the hindsight, if a musician wakes up, fiddles with his violin, he is cool. The generation worships him. If Feynman wakes up and scribbles differential equations on his breakfast table, his wife divorces him. This has to change, I will try to imbibe my theatrical and movie making talents simply because - Designing and test flying Aircraft and Rockets for a living is cool!

Ye Zindagi hai,ye pyaar ka chumma hai!

[prakhnster]

Alpha Romeo Project

Dear {name} In the heydays of early teenage,I saw romances flying off the shelf in school and neighbourhood. I was occupied by being a punk, boyhood mischief and joy of creation. I observed and drew immense courage to brace what lay ahead from you. I witnessed you dating that chap from your building to the 27 year old biker (which was hilarious) but throughout maintaining the sanguine attitude towards life,self-dignity and grace. Hell,post school you came out through 36 months of paired - swimming through the sea of gaiety without a flinch of past as a burden which otherwise would ramschackle hearts to smithereens,you don't need condolences or consolidation you don't deserve that!  Change is one thing,it's the only constant. Acceptance is another dimension intertwined in our mould. What makes us love? Unfolding the complexities of your lover,layer by layer through masks,peeling off the apprehensions,ego, adulthood, contempt,facade and pretense. As you go through the process maybe at times you end up wrapping yourself thick like the skin of an orange. Attached to the naive scrub of their souls ruffling smoothly on our senses. Why is it that your intution points subliminally to the thoughts and ideas going through the head of the lover lying next to you!? Why is it that the masculine/boyish charm has to work the way around of the vindicated walls of your heart!? It's hard to wear it on the sleeves,walk the part of this journey with something throbbing in your hand, brought up on tales of heart mingling. As we galvanised our romantic threads on these tragedies,I often wondered how they perceived the entire episode.It must be absolutely shattering to watch your lover crawl on the blood spewed arrowed ground for that last touch, drowning under the galloping waves for the last satisfying glimpse or perhaps scathe nails on the wall built around you standing watching him blur out of your sights.  We've had enough heartbreaks for a lifetime! The revolving dial of meeting someone, loving them exhaustively,jittery thoughts of being apart,trifles,going abreast and departing- the process is tedious and clobbering. You're drenched by the end of it,look back at the initiative with aspirations of a selfless devotion to last when wrinkles have made way for the unaccounted infatuation. Virulent compassion runs a sprint,stoic compatibility paces a lifespan. Like the first bout of whiskey,it tastes bad,you throw up in the washroom,swore to never put yourself through this but hung around the bar trying something new soon! You are much wiser, pragmatic and calm. Besides what's the point of a life stripped off the excitement,jamboree,full of passion,raw emotions and bear hugs. Prakhnster.

[prakhnster]

I wish to take away your heart!

Dear I wish I could take away your heart. Unlike the grandiose of Bollywood 'Dil churana' but like a professional thief,a criminal hardened over a career.  Observing you in deep sleep,a swarthy circle surrounding your dove eyes,lean fingers with a quarter moon of nail paint remaining from this year's Diwali,your legs curled up shyly touching your belly,unkept hair,lopsided clean jawline next to books from last night. Carefully slip my hand into the deep crevasse,adeptly pulling it out. Your cats and puppies might pounce for me on actions but set free smelling the intentions. Snug in a jar of Formaldehyde I'd sling it across my shoulder,safely tucked in a yellow cotton bag with Aztec design cutting along its edges. Take it over to hitherto unknown corners of world,I certainly believe they exists to the kind of dates your heart loves. Flowers embroidered on a white silk cloth placed over a dew laden grass looking over the mountains as the clouds pass by,flickering the night long bonfire,empty cups of port wine and half eaten fishes besides twig- skewers next to fire. Take it to the blackest of markets,maybe show a glimpse to the world,the buyers,the hagglers,the hoarders,the gangs,watch them go berserk to lay their hands on something akin to fountain of youth. No I wouldn't sell,defend it swinging daggers on whosoever puts an eye on it. When clock strikes two,when the sanest of men are asleep,demons are to sway,walking under the moonlight over the cobbles of the shadiest alley I would break into a goldsmith's workshop  where they repair broken pottery with gold by Japanese art of Kintsugi and fill the slightest of blemishes to the scathing scars of your heart with metal yellow. While I write you poetries on the moist sand of sunny beaches,waves washing it away. I'd request the sun to drain the ocean,if not paid heed to. Steal two boats from the shore,paddle incessantly straight to the paunch of the ocean.Take it through the tempest of storms roaring wildly. As they violently rock our boats,coughing through the mouth full of sea water if I ever realise yours would drift away, indelibly filling my senses with adrenaline. I will fling over a hook, no matter how far with all the strength in every fiber of my shoulders. Once assured,glee on my lips like the lanky 13 year old,I'd squirm in a dagger through my chest,pull out mine from the widened ribcage,warm and throbbing,place it along the oars and fall off watching the two bobbing along from the floor of the sea. Wading through the torrential billows they will awaken a mist laden morning into a calm estuary,chirping birds and two wiser, younger and simply better hearts not liable to sink either. Mine is a cardinal raging fire that initiates things,yours a placid monk that executes them yet both yearning to explore beyond the horizons. Exactly like the times they intertwined pristinely,before all these adulthood heartbreaks,before all the malice,cunningness,responsibilities and selfishness filled our brains. They'd go places hooked in a realm of no boundaries or understanding for relationships,where romance and love have a clear demarcation,none forced upon each other or weighed in the same breath since magic between souls come in the simplest of forms. I wish I could steal away your heart. It's just not meant for keeping you alive,its meant to pause in awe every time you complete a revolution round the sun. Pyaar, Prakhnster

[prakhnster]

Will they serve wine at your Funeral?

Mrs. Fernandes? Ever heard of writing an obituary before the person is dead? I’m unsure of the terminology associated with this art but by end of this piece, I look forward to mastering it. Its 3 : 07 am and sleep eludes me, Ma in her usual night phone call informed me that you were on your deathbed. As I watch the moonlight shine on my tiles, carefully evading the guard of the curtains ,it glimmers from the swaying leaves of Guava, coconut and the chickoo tree that surround my room on the second floor. I should perhaps write you an obituary, something that is fit enough to speak in your Baptist Church near the Vasai Fort. It would be a shame if I dont, you have significantly been a intriguing part of my childhood. Now that you are in a vegetative state of mind, contemplating on how you spent your life, I would like you to know a few things. You could never cast a fear on me anyway, since you are slow in your reflexes I am sure your spirit won’t be able to catch up with a boy jet-setting the country for work and travel as he spills out stories from crevasses of time. I could judge the temperament of a new lady by how quickly she caught hold of me when I rang her bell and went galloping down the stairs often bursting into giggles by the ground floor. I wonder with all those CCTVs and door camera what do kids do for fun. Your soul has grown old too, signifying you were indeed old. It was synonymous to a Jagrata except you had melody and acapella with ladies and girls in skirts, I have no memory of the prayers but I remember standing next to Jennifer occasionally exchanging flirtatious smiles. Jennifer moved to Mangalore, I lost touch ever since. It wouldn’t take long for you to turn your grumpy, sweat drenched Aunty mode on. You refused to handover the ball lodged in the cover of your AC ,despite repeated pleas of “Sorry Aunty, we won’t do it again, Aunty” that ran into half an hour till we gave up. Sadly, I had bought the ‘pepsi’ cherry red ball that same evening from the money I had won from last week’s football match. Remember, how next day I volunteered to help you with baggage? You found the vegetables and fruits ‘fresh’ with sprinkled water and I explained.” Aunty, Kishan bola wo bhaji fresh rakhne ke waaste paani maara”. Yes, that time, well I had peed in it. Believe me ,it was a no mean job, I had to pull up the knickers from my left thigh, aim into the basket, leak while maintaining balance on my toes simultaneously watching out for someone passing by. Now if you ask me why I simply didn’t use my zipper, well not long ago to the incident I accidently had my soft skin entangled in the zipper,I decided to cut off the zip and stitch all my pants after that painful ordeal. On the contrary ,I think you would be hysterical and shouting on this if you could lose your bollocks when you found me peeling off earthworms in the rain and me watching in awe as the two new split earthworms found their way. You looked puny besides Mr.Fernandes,he was well above 6 feet with a mix of Portuguese and Konkani genes, though he was a clear buffoon who spent his time in Merchant Navy while you enjoyed back in Mangalore.I could cut through his goose-shit when he said he was a Major General in the Indian Navy,Seriously? Your son never returned from the Gulf, people, especially Malyalee uncles from Oman made all sorts of horrific stories and that made Mr.Fernandes restless and so did his bottle. You took the belting often leaving long and horrendous bleats like a battered brewing cooker whistle spewing out thick sambhar. Of all your seldom appearances, Christmas was a joy to be around you. Freshly baked Rum cakes, pastries, mango-almond cookies and endless supply of cream whipped fruit salad. That was just the first year. Next, you decided to experiment with Gujrati snacks and poruppu, well your chaklis and kachoris were rock hard as a granite pebble. The third year, with no signs of your son, you started doing tricks, cakes from D’Souza aunty went to Da’Cunha’s plate, Kaveri auntie’s fafda went to Rachna auntie’s plate and one piece from each came to my home. How do I know this? D’Souza auntie’s son Ricky was my junior whose tiffin I quite often hogged during recess and her cake stands out amongst the thousands of smell you can snug into your senses. As a child, I always believed you Catholics were a progressive lot. Ma has a Phd in Medieval History and her garangutan thesis starts with  ‘The progress of a society is showcased by how its women are treated’. Well, then you were just like the others in this idyllic town of Bassein where people live in a rigmarole. One afternoon,you let put a big scream which was clouded by the sweeny’s incessant barking ,this was it.I was coming back after a frustating day of cricket, sometimes a decree of empathy is bigger to overwhelm fear.  I had battered his shins with two swings from my bat as he roamed around in his drunken stupor near the garage, as it rained during the load shedding. Nobody could figure out the assailant, you went on to believe it was someone from the beer bar whom your husband owed to. He lay in bed, groaning for the next 6 weeks, stopped visiting the bar except for occasional bottles Kurien uncle got him. Meanwhile, you fed him with turmeric laced milk, nursed his wounds. It seemed like utter stupidity to what you were up to, either you detest a person or you love him but you kept sending me mixed signals all through those 2 months. The bloated shins coupled with diabetes didn’t allow him lunging to take a whip at you. The belting stopped since, all he did from then was to smash his coffee cup and plates against the walls. This dumbfounded your dog Sweeny, she started howling oddly then. As the pension got tighter due to medical bills, Sweeny whom you picked up as a stray pup and brought up on cakes and chicken was again on the streets. People did initiate help but you were too haughty as a Goan aristocrat to accept it. Well, Mrs. Fernandes sometimes you are the bird, sometimes you are the statue, should have accepted it and moved on. You started stepping out of the house, meeting people, in fact the watchman saw you after 4 years of whistling and stamping lathis down your flat to vindicate against thieves. All though this, your soul got gnawed slowly for sure. Sweeny was one nasty bitch, out of your snobbish contempt you never had another dog smell her or wag its tail. You were too particular about it. So two days into the wild, she put on a full blown show with Malhotra uncle’s Jacky a la doggystyle. This is what happens when you want to tighten your course around something, nature has its way to make things happen. A couple of months later on my detour to home from school, I heard her whine again. I stepped in the opposite side of the dry gutter to watch her litter  5 pups in the next 40 minutes, if you know they come out really sticky and gooey . Before I could explain the first birth I saw ,I was packed off to the bathroom for the next hour by Ma for supposedly smelling like a rotten hog! Smell, again to bathroom, smell again…I finally decided to not elaborate over the beauty of nature so neither could you know that your daughter-like sweeny now made you illict grandmother of 5 crossbreeds. Sweeny ate two of her own pups out of hunger. When Ma changed her work timings, Papa started cooking and I was at mercy of his test. So my lunch usually went to Sweeny and I grew up in my teens chomping on sprouts. You always addressed me as ‘Son’, but when I asked you to play my Mother for a day, come to the Principal’s office to explain as to why your ward was teasing teachers and breaking classroom desks. You bloody flipped out then and put me before my actual Mother. You will be 12 feet beneath the ground, tasting soil by the end of this weekend. Your medical expenses will be covered by insurance, rest some anonymous donor will cover up, he always has. But these are things the living will have to address, you have better things to do and repay for your acts as a mortal. For you have sinned-you lied to yourself every day that your son will be back, Mr.Fernandes will get his life sorted and Kaveri aunty will stop pestering you by rinsing her clothes before putting it to dry thereby .You lied so that you could live another day, looks like this was on par with a thousand truth to have been said. May, Jesus punish you with a duckwalk around the circumference of Earth straight as you reach the gates of heaven for not justifying me as your ‘Son’ throughout. I wasn’t always a punk to you .When you had kidney problems,I overheard Kaveri aunty say you were in urgent need of blood. I visited you,took your bed number went to the nurse who asked me if I was an adult ,well I lied ,I was 16,donated you blood and came back home cycling as usual. You will be lowered in your casket, wrapped in your favourite Orange pleated Mangalorean silk Saree that you wore during yuletide. Mr.Fernandes deserves a drink, since from now on he will have to manage his own. It would be electric drama if your son arrives during the funeral ,I hope he does realize on what he missed not visiting you all these days for himself, especially your Rum Cake. The heat will be killing Sweeny plus she has become slower in recognition and her impulsive barks have weaned off, so she is out. Society members will keep prayer and later discuss AGM sipping on Kokam sherbet. I will be sitting in my lab designing parachutes perhaps wondering if I should take a 5 hour ride to Bassein. Will they serve wine at you funeral, Mrs.Fernandes? Prakhnster, The boy who tapped                                                                                                                     your cable TV connection.

[prakhnster]

12th February 1809 - ever ending sparkle in those piercing eyes. There are somethings that a bullet can’t cut through, spirit and resolve!

[prakhnster]

There are a few nitwits Who can't say the obvious, Like two sheets of ice, skeptical to end up against each other, But soon glistening in warmth as they pass over, Like two pair of shoes, Fidgety in one's leg, Replaced soles in other's, Flawed,uncomfortable,misfits to both, But Fun to walk with hands held, Together meant to scale the distance, That's the pun for 'sole-mates'!, Slurping on juicy stories into ends of horizon, Dispersing Grey clouds are all you see from flipside, Mornings as I watch the shunning moonlight, Eluding the sun rays alike you did 2 months ago, So much that I feel enough of my rhymes, Perhaps, to dwell in abstracts hereon, Much ado a broken crayon, Darker within willing to paint the town red, Contrary to the patron of these slippers, Who has left in the hope for a perfect pair! #Shoes #nonsense #poetry (at Coimbatore, Tamil Nadu)

[prakhnster]

Dear Santa, Its been 7 years that you've written to me or put me a gift.Unlike all these years Christmas this time isn't all pomp and pastry gala. I have been on solo journeys across the country in some unquenchable thirst.My lab machinery has been seized by Customs and a legal battle might endure. The parachute I've been designing for over 2 months just wouldn't glide good.I am on a losing streak of squash matches.My film won nominations in Brussels and Auckland but I cant go.The people I loved have cut me off over a text message.These December nights are long,cold,lonely and it hurts too much. Contrary to what people say,I still do trust in you and all your Hoes. Thanks, The kid who ran amid mass on a Hercules cycle after drinking wine and giving a flying kiss to Sister Pinto. (at Centenary Methodist Church)

[prakhnster]

Dear Santa, Its been 7 years that you've written to me or put me a gift.Unlike all these years Christmas this time isn't all pomp and pastry gala. I have been on solo journeys across the country in some unquenchable thirst.My lab machinery has been seized by Customs and a legal battle might endure. The parachute I've been designing for over 2 months just wouldn't glide good.I am on a losing streak of squash matches.My film won nominations in Brussels and Auckland but I cant go.The people I loved have cut me off over a text message.These December nights are long,cold,lonely and it hurts too much. Contrary to what people say,I still do trust in you and all your Hoes. Thanks, The kid who ran amid mass on a Hercules cycle after drinking wine and giving a flying kiss to Sister Pinto. (at Centenary Methodist Church)

[prakhnster]

You support me, I support him and together we can lift this world! 'Truss' is most important in our relationship! (at Jawaharlal Nehru Port)

[prakhnster]

WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?

Running around the balcony, hands full of sweets

[prakhnster]

You remind me

You remind of the blurred images while opening eyes, You remind me of chilly winter mornings snuggled in disguise, You remind me of that peeled walls, Awaiting new paint and magic stalls, You remind me of broken glass in abstract art, Of cog in the wheel of stoic cart, You remind of serene moments to a imminent death, Of skipping beats and out of breath, You remind of trickling rain, Imbecile in vagary plain, You remind me of raw guavas stuck in teeth, Of curled corners in scribbled sheets, You remind me birds that can never be caged, Placid hills and clouds rummaged, You remind me of gashes on skin, Whimsical chaos structured in, You remind of rocking boat slipped off tow, You remind me of bhaji to be had with butter pav, You remind me if you get more such rhymes, That I've had enough whiskey and cold chimes! You remind me

[prakhnster]

Graduation party wishes to the badass Twenty Two and a Half Men of the pioneer Aerospace batch from an entrance exam! Immense Love and wishes to the Band of Brothers! I promise you'll read and hear a lot of me in the years to come! :D (at Indian Customs & Central Excise Department)