Tamseel Husain

From chaos to nothingness

2011-07-12T12:36:00.000-07:00

Its been 4 months since I have been off the radar with myself, yet my concept of nothingness deluges with formality and pointless arguments. I want my lovable chaos to take a break, meditate and walk slowly.

gced.witness' photostream

2011-06-27T04:39:00.001-07:00

gced.witness' photostream on Flickr.

Global Classroom Education Division photo-stream. memories of Egypt, Thailand, Singapore, Australia, Malaysia and Jordan.,

35 Musicians – उजां:A festival for the Sunderbans

2011-02-21T21:22:00.000-08:00

Putting up 03 of them 35 launch videos for Ujaan - A festival for The Sunderbans

Launch video made by PINKNOISE a Kolkata based band for Ujaan: A festival for the Sunderbans.

Launch video made by Tempo Tantrick for Ujaan.

Concert recording being used as a promo for Ujaan by FLI feat. Gandu

Ujaan: The festival of Sunderbans

2011-02-21T07:09:00.000-08:00

Who are the Musicians/artists performing at the Ujaan?

There are 34 musicians performing at the event, apart from them we plan to host the largest outdoor art exhibition in Eastern India – which consists of works coming from various artists across the country and few international artists.

1. Avtaar
2. Bay Beat Collective
3. Beginners Luck
4. Bolepur Bluez
5. Emergence
6. Five Little Indians feat Gandu
7. Kendraka
8. Los Amigos
9. Lounge Piranha
10. The Mavyns
11. PINKNOISE
12. Quark
13. Rajasthan Roots
14. Reggae Rajahs
15. Shaai*r+Func
16. Soulmate
17. Stella
18. Srinjoy Bannerjee Trio
19. Techno Tourettes
20. Teddy Boy Kill
21. Tempo Tantrick

Folk/sufi/baul
22. Guru Rewben Guru Rewben Mashangva hails from the hill district of Ukhrul in Manipur, India. He is a Folk Singer, musician & composer, researcher & guide for preservation and development of the tribal folk music for the past 15years.
23. Rewben is is the leading exponent of HAO music with vast experience in the field. He performs on the the Tingtelia, a violin type instrument .. Whenever he performs in and around his hometown, his son Saka Mashangva joins him as percussion player.
24. Phuning ding (phu baba) PhuNingDing popularly known as Phu Baba is a Karbi Folk Rock singer/composer from Karbi Anglong district in Assam.His famous song Warklung was also the name of the bands debut album.
25. WARKLUNG...the big bang...is an approach to understand and preach the power of the infinite, nurture the love that grows in every human heart and codemn the the horrifying act of terrorism that results in the death of millions of innocent lives worldwide
26. Arman Fakir Maestro of Marfati sufi songs and Lalon Fakir's songs,Bangla Kawali,Baul songs of Nadia
27. Akkash Fakir Baul and philosophical music of Nadia(West Bengal),Bangladesh,Lalon Fakir's songs
28. Golam Fakir Maestro of Bangla Marfati Sufi music,Lalon Fakir's songs
29. Golam Fakir(Jr) Sufi music of W.Bengal and Bangladesh,Boyaati songs(Sufi Kavi songs),Bangla Kawali
30. Babu Fakir Baul and Fakiri songs of Bengal,Bhoba pagla songs,Hason Raja songs
31. Khaibur Fakir Maestro of Fakiri songs and Baul songs
32. Shoshthi Das Baul High spirited performer of Baul songs and knows various kinds of Baul songs of the red earth !
33. Gopen Baul singer . indegenous songs of nadia ! Multi-percussionist
34. Dipankar Fakir Fakiri songs , Lalon Songs , songs of the river , Multi traditional

Tickets out, book them now - www.ujaanfestival.org/

Songs for Salvation

2011-02-21T07:04:00.000-08:00

The Sunderbans will echo with the eclectic sounds of the Indian independent music scene this March. On March 11, 12 and 13, Frasergunj in West Bengal will play host to a music and arts festival, Ujaan, for the very first time. The current music line-up includes acts as varied as electro-rock duo Shaa’ir + Func, blues act Soulmate, drum and bass act Bay Beat Collective, and post-rock band Lounge Piranha.

Tamseel Hussain, public engagement manager of the festival, says, “We’re a group of individuals who’ve come together to raise awareness about the Sunderbans and the problems it is facing.” The festival has been organised along with Kolkata-based organisations, Allsport Foundation and Magic Wallrush, and intends to liaise with small NGOs based in the Sunderbans. Besides the art work on display and the music, Ujaan will see a number of presentations that will drum up awareness about the region. “We’re also working on a documentary, with which we hope to put the Sunderbans on the global arena,” says Hussain. That is quite some objective, and the intentions seem noble. But despite massive support from music-lovers, indie music festivals, such as Ladakh Confluence and Eastwind, have had to fold up due to various pressures in the past. Hopefully, Ujaan’s fate will be brighter

Ujaan: Festival for the Sunderbans

2011-02-18T21:24:00.000-08:00

Ujaan is a three day music and art festival in aid of the Sunderbans. The Sunderbans delta, at the mouth of the Ganges river, is the largest mangrove forest in the world, spreading across parts of Bangladesh and West Bengal, India.

It aims to bring together artists, musicians, thinkers, activists and organisations working in varied fields and disciplines, from across the globe, highlight the impending crisis situation and help raise funds in aid of the people and ecology of the Sunderbans delta that is fast disappearing due to manmade climate change.

The first chapter of Ujaan will be held in Frazergunj, West Bengal on the 10th, 11th and 12th of March 2011, What the best thing about Ujaan - it's run by 300 inspired volunteers across the country. To find out more: visit - www.ujaanfestival.org/

Below you can find the Ujaan Badge! To find out more, visit the link:

Ujaan : Festival for the Sunderbans
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Performance given by students of Nermein Ismail American language School (Cairo)

2010-07-08T06:57:00.000-07:00

This video was shared by an Indian student on youtube called Urvashi who was a participant of 2009 Egypt Chapter

Global Classroom Egypt Chapter ( May' 10 )

2010-06-23T03:52:00.000-07:00

Memoirs from Global Classroom Education Division Chapter: Egypt (May'10)
The program was good, had fun conducting the '6 thinking hats ' workshop.

The participants were from Springdales school (Delhi), Sagar Public School (Alwar), Nermien Ismail American Language School (Cairo), between the age group of 12 - 17 years of age. Conducting such programs for school students can teach you so much, its been 5 years since I have been a GCED coordinator, over the years I can find myself turning into a ' Child Psychologist'. Specially when there are students from different countries getting connected through one platform

Sharing some photos from the trip and school interaction :)

"Opening the windows of your mind"

2008-09-25T01:06:00.000-07:00

Genesis of educational Excellence(GEXX), an NGO formed recently, which took over an interesting project called 'Global Classroom'(launched in 1997). Further updates will be posted soon.

What is Global Classroom?

Global Classroom is an ‘Experience which is the superior form of Education’ .
With an aim to augment knowledge, that tends to aspire the young and clear barriers by - Opening the windows of the mind.

The maiden concept of Global Classroom was launched in India way back in 1997 and the same received rolling success and a wide range commendations from various Educationalists across the globe.

Today the program ambitiously looks ahead for comprising all age groups - because the realization is that human beings perpetually urge a change for betterment & desire contentment from all achievements,appreciate satisfaction from their investments, weed out happiness from their contributions and look ahead for recognition.

Current Destinations : Egypt & Bali

Ek Cup Chai

2008-09-10T06:55:00.000-07:00

Strolling through the streets of my colony, I witness an awe-inspiring site every morning. Mohan holding two narrow bottom glasses and staring at steaming hot tea that streams from one glass into another. The intense pouring of the hot liquid makes it luke warm and hence my day begins with a stimulating cup of chai.

Like Mohan there are more than 6000 tea stalls that govern Delhi’s Café culture. All catering to different people coming from all walks of life. Located on almost every street and distinct corners of the capital, these tea stalls in other words Local Café’s of Delhi have an intricate culture of their own. From dusk to dawn they serve a limited menu but with a lot of placidity. Most of these cafes comprise of strong bamboo sticks supporting a shelter made of old asbestos or fiber plastic. Interiors include an antique counter that holds a gas stove, a kerosene lamp, old utensils burnt to black with leftover bits of their former essence, a relatively big kadai that stores cooking oil in the open for the day’s food, half empty egg trays, 10 – 15 narrow bottom glasses and a rare variety of conversation coming from different regions and assorted personalities. Usually there are no seating arrangements made, but some of these cafes will have tables made out of antique rotten wood or rot iron, stable enough to hold a satisfying cup of tea and maybe a heavy arm rest.

A tasteful treat for a curious eye and for those hungry stop overs, the menu is pretentiously small of course served with a big heart. The menu usually consists of eggs to order, cheap bakery products and a rare blend of teas – regular, medium or kadak. A special feature on the menu calls for black tea or mint tea. For those who are hungry for conversations, a buzz ranging from politics, corruption, daily problems of different classes in our social system to movies, music, cell phones and electronics.

These local cafes speak a common taste of architecture and design, have a similar language, every discussion is spoken over a ‘cup of chai’, other than breaking class barriers it’s a perfect place to meet authentic Delhihites. Friendliest of all people, these café owners would know their surrounding areas at the tip of their tongues.

So the next time you walk through an unknown street or lose your way, be sure you stop by a local tea stall, to rejuvenate your senses and find your way back home again.

2008-09-09T13:51:00.000-07:00

'Enclosure'

Placard Confetti

2008-01-06T03:27:00.001-08:00

Part - 1 : The Clumsy Dido<>

The place was dark , and it was long....

He was tired of walking in a four lane library that was empty.
As his work was incomplete.
For some reason the place wasn't a typical reading joint.
It looked more like a glum upholstered cave.

He dropped his pen.Even though the place was filled with rusty yet new books.
Which were of course unread and unexplored , he saw a title called 'The Mad Man'
He rolled his eyes to the left and saw another title 'The Outsider'.There were all kinds of titles that described him , rather wrote a character history of an unknown wanderer in search of Eureka!...All were ignored.He looked straight and he saw a large black book with no title.Although the books he had crossed seemed without a title and meaningless.The Particular book was treasure in the cave , at least it felt like a rarefied extinct gem in the middle of a coal forest.Its torn old pages looked golden in the dark.The book was old , yet it gave a fresh new charm to the cave, probably its colour.

"Ahhh...ummmm....bah" exclaimed rake.His red hair was forced to move a little by his right palm.He scratched his coned head. And walked towards his newly found destiny..

He takes big steps towards the withheld 'Bin Laden' , probably his inconsistent nature forces him to grab every strum of a conventional light.

He trips over his own brown boot , but manages to balance on his heels.He walks ahead...(two more steps) and lifts his heels ,he's now on his toes.Tries lifting the book with his right hand , but is convinced to use the other one .
Since the weight is unbearable.

He drops it and drops his 6 ft long body over it.

'What a pity! Man falls , where knowledge falls .... tortured by fate...indeed a pity' - this was written on a piece of burnt paper that was dispersed out of the book .

Its not that he is clumsy but lately he hasn't been use to such pleasance.
His lifespan is not more than 22 years.His death span has prolonged for 3 years now....

He dragged it in thin air till a 'rusty old teak table' interrupted the unusual swooshing of wind and dust ..The strong table surprisingly was eventful...A loud echo awakened the defeated literature that felt unwanted and lone.
And shook the antique wood that had built a magnificent yet ugly mesa'

He lifted the hard black cover that wasn't dusty now....and found a series of blank pages...he kept scrolling till he reached the other end of the hard cover...which had a plastic packet attached to it. He ignored the packet.Since he never is inquisitive about strange plastic things....

He shut the book...looked around his bushy eye brows that sloped like old mountain tops.He grabbed the plastic packet and crushed it in his palms , after going against his own virtue he , felt something , he pressed harder ad he could feel that there was a key inside the former empty plastic.

The key was divine of rust and was visibly useless.But what struck his head was an old saying that his forefathers mumbled every time they were in trouble " Every key opens to a new undisclosed door / lock".well most used the term 'lock' and the ambitious idlers used the term 'door'.

He opened his so success again and found the same beige pages that he had ignored.
He found words that meant nothing he found letters that concluded null!
But what he did observe were watermarked letters on some pages the only ones visible were ' L ' 'A ' 'F' ' A ' ' E ' T '....these six letters were different if not to a naked eye but to rakes eye...Yes! they were different....

After hours of thinking , he reached no solution . He pondered and he got tiered.
He kept the key in his pocket and left the book where it was.He frowned at the librarian , who was drooling of red spit that dripped of his dry lip.The librarian replied with a nod , which smelt of hard work.

He got out of the place and jumped on the road crossing four cemented steps in the air, dropped his skull cap . He picked it up again , amused by his own clumsiness..started walking towards his house....

~End of Part 1~

Part - 2 : Stairway to Faet'

He had always lived his life alone ,on his own terms.
His day dreaming , his unfrequented absurd observations and his recluse talents were of no use to the world anymore.
It didn't bother him , although he did get annoyed by humanness , that had never found any place in his theatre.

Rake's dreamworld was full of imaginary characters/actors who played their roles according to his script.His life was wasted in a 'keg of confusion' misinforming his senses , that the world was a gambol and not a wasteland of human soul .

While walking back , he reached his deep pockets and found his new discovery , he looked at it again , this time with frustration , his anger prevailed his eagerness.

Probably, his mind wandered on a chaos of questionaires...

"Who would leave a key wrapped in a packet?"

"Why would anyone write a book , enormous in size with 06 letters to read?"

"Why in the name of god , did I find a book so vague , even when i dont read?"

"Why am I carrying someone elses possesion?"

"Why did I go to the damn library?"

These questions troubled him , and so did the situation.
frustration led to anger and anger led to force.the key was lost and thrown towards his left , with extreme rage.

He heard an echo , it had hit an opaque interruption.
His curiosity underestimated his ego.

He ran towards the key , and found a small metal door , freshly painted blue ,the door waved from left to right as the wind pushed it from both the directions.He saw a dim light , which atrracted his attention and his hunt.

He crouched into the entrance , and landed on his back , after falling of a small pane that was misjudged by him.
The pane was 5 feet high , 'Tall Rake held his back and cracked it to fortify.

He looked around and saw nothing , but smelt a confidant aroma , that helped him recollect his past , (a strange coincidence).

The Atticc

It was an atticc , that was familiar in its own way.
No , he hadn't been here before , but sure his senses had , they guided him to a staircase that led to a basement , a strange architectural wonder that had nothing in the middle to support life.The basement looked more like a rich colonial fascade.
That had leather and suede submerged in a furnished marvel.
The fascade had a brown feel to it and was divine in it's own sanctity.

It was variant in colour , although comprising of mahogany , brown , green , black , yellow and a Picasso (a classic abstract that was the centre of the fascade's attention) .The painting had , a vibrantly colourful woman sitting on a brown chair , with a grey and yellow pattern in the background.

Below it rested a black book that resembled the same that was discovered by Rake.

He glared at the book , ofcourse he was surprisd.
He felt cheated and yet he felt happy.

Was he being stalked?

A thought that crossed his mind for a second , it drifted away in a strong breeze that comprised of dust and water drops.

The book flipped pages , not on its own , but it was encouraged by the breeze.
One could see drops of water , sketching on its rusty pages.There flew a papyrus that consisted of black ink.
It led to another wooden door that opened on it's own (probably the breeze again), helping Rake enter into another room which was empty and white in colour.
It had traces of black and dispersed clothes all over .

As he stepped inside , his right foot felt something old.
Yes! it was Rake's lost treasure , without it he felt insecure.A breathtaking reunion for him. 'gasp...gasp..'

At the other end of the room there were 02 doors , one of which was locked and the other unlocked.

He walked towards the door , dragging a red shirt , that was stuck on his boot.
after reaching his destination he shrugged his foot to get rid of the torn shirt.

He looked at the key that was tightly fisted in his right hand , he opened his palm and revealed his treasure , he took pride in its ownership now .

His hand shivered when he held the key with respect , he could already feel a fresh shiver of luck run down his spine.He didnt expect eureka but what he did expect was a change.

~End of Part 2~

A Tiller ' Abased

2007-10-11T03:55:00.000-07:00
A Tiller ‘Abased
by Tamseel Hussain

( tamseel.hussain@gmail.com(This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it )

**This article was posted in 'Aid India :Delhi Chapter' newsletter September 2007.

A broken house, a broken man, a vacuous earthen stove with no food to cook, a brown face with fine wrinkles that spell of sweat and years of hard work. A brief outlook to a life of a slackened Indian farmer. There are more than 700 million Indians who depend on agriculture for their food and shelter. The rest of us depend on them for our food.

If one looks into a farmer’s enfeebled forehead. One can feel his cry .It has been more than 50 years of our independence. Our demands have increased and so has our income.

But there are many still suffering from a rotten disease called ‘poverty’. This has been an issue longing for more than decades now. Our land was known as the
‘Golden Nightingale, during the imperialism and victimization era and now it has attained a future spot for a super power.

Our people have survived many economic ups and downs but some due to many reasons haven’t so they commit suicide and most leave their families alone to handle themselves.

There was a conference recently held in Dehradun where more than 250 organic farmers participated. Since Organic food is gaining popularity all over India and these farmers are much at ease. They reached many conclusions for these innumerable suicides committed by these farmers .

“The organic farmers believe that much of the cases of suicides committed by farmers are due to the use of spurious fertilizers and pesticides which has lead to crop failure. In such cases the farmers are unable to pay back the loans and become debt-trapped. Therefore, the alternate way is to go for organic farming which is less expensive, environment friendly and ensures
higher yields.”

There are certain steps to be taken by us regarding the above issue since the death toll is increasing day by day and so are the many seldom families. A few points that we ought to cover are:

Provide a guaranteed Minimum Support Price that is more than the cost of production
Waive debt currently owed to private money-lenders

Set up a committee, with proper representation from farmers and people's groups, to carefully analyze the current situation, and implementation of Government relief packages, in suicide prone region and make real numbers of farmer's suicides public.

Increase grants and provide training to farmers who wish to move away from mono-cropping to multi-crop, or organic agriculture – this will serve to increase food and livelihood security

Set up a system of checks and balances in the marketing of seeds, and make available at the time of sowing, good quality seeds

Explicitly make agriculture a permissible work under the NREGA – this will allow farmers, who want to make the shift to low-external input, sustainable farming, to hire the help they need for activities such as mulching, sowing, weeding and composting. Such a move would address aims of the NREGA as stated in section 1.1 of the NREGA, 2005 – protecting the environment as well as reducing rural-urban migration

Support farming of traditional Jowar and Ragi – this will not only provide local access to nutrition, but will also provides a source of fodder for cattle that were part of your previous relief package
It’s true that the present government has recognized the fact that farmers are committing suicides and have also taken steps in mitigating their distress and destitution. The path taken by the government to solve the agricultural crisis, however, takes the same route of liberalization, providing more credit to farmers, deregulating the seed sector and promoting export-oriented crops. In our view, this is not the lasting solution. This
would put the farmers off their fields by making agriculture less remunerative and increasing unemployment.

In order to save these farmers and their trodden families we need to stand up , we need to awaken each corner. They need our help and one must save his/her ‘broken home’.

After all we all our Indians and we all bread and survive on the same land. Lets take this cause as our own and help India prosper and attain its goal as a super power soon.

Let’s save our ‘broken home’.
Let’s fill in the earthen pot.

The Pretender

2007-09-14T12:03:00.000-07:00

AID Delhi "Tamseel Hussain is a volunteer who is doing his political science from Bhagat Singh college. He is extremely interested in writing articles. He is also involved in re-writing the website content of AID Delhi along with his friend Joe Sebastian."
The Pretender
by Tamseel

If we take a walk back to our so called path of ‘development’. It would all seem so prominent and definite; like a metaphorical journey through time where we forget everything that used to exist and force our ships to sail through destiny for our new found aim – growth. Isn’t this cause for our recent product called ‘India Shining’?

Well I do admit my pride for my country’s worldly success.

It’s a success story worth mentioning.

A sudden hike in the share market. A sudden intrusion of giant mergers. Economically our heroes, our brands have been successful. Employment opportunities are on a rise (Finally all the workers / employees get a chance to choose and decide). BPO invasion changed everything, our culture, our society, our health, our cost, our knowledge and our kids.

Isn’t it true, this new plight called neo – colonialism has a profound effect on our land?

Isn’t it true, the inevitable conflict between neo- colonialism and neo – modernism is just not seamless enough?

Yes we have progressed, reached new boundaries.

Although our land is loosing its fertility both agriculturally and humanly but we still are progressing. The thin line on the Sensex chart has proved us right, but what has it done to the good old Indans? Are we all benefiting equally? Is the price hike justified?

These questions are unanswerable and unattended.
Many have realized the importance of the word ‘knowledge’ and how much of an effect it has on the word ‘success’. The beggars look cheerful now, at least some of them. Technologically we have moved ahead into space. All this and more defines our trip to present success.

Am I being too much of an optimist?

India – the preserver, the pretender, the dominated. It’s still a colony being blackmailed and threatened by the new laws of interaction. Trying to cope up with the changing trends and lifestyles it has made its mark.

Although our co partners corruption and treachery haven’t left us , because if they leave us we would come to a standstill. Our goals will be subdued by a slow motion system where all are treated equal and not according to their pockets or welfares.

Am I still being too much of an optimist?

In the midst of our colossal trip to marginal success

The class struggle has rejuvenated in a silent tone of peace.

Some believe there is certainty that defines our country’s success, for some its uncertain if they will survive till India deeply shines.

For instance traditional Indian retailership (banyagiri) has gone for a six and is personified by ‘open economy’, although candid yet resourceful.

The past 5 years have been debauched and speedy, it’s incorrect if we call ourselves tamed and prepared for the forthcoming pit stop. But its correct if we wish to experience the hardships to cross that pit stop.

The reason this article is titled ‘the Pretender’ is because of the country’s hidden loop holes. Where and what does it stand for? Who is benefiting out of its stand?

Are we pretending to be developing rapidly or have we forgotten our roots.

These questions will always remain where they are right now. This article will get transferred to the archives. But what will remain fresh and mutable will be our success. Our self explainable class contends and our newly constructed mono marvels.

Cordial Imagery - KL

2007-08-30T10:46:00.000-07:00

I would define Kuala Lumpur(KL) as a city of customary irradiated lights.The city is a collocation of various devoid yet aspiring people.there are Indians preferably Kannadigans , Tamilians , Punjabis and mere Konkanis selling 'parathas and dal', Chicken with a thin layer of a day old skin ,Pakistanis with good tandoori Dhabas(oh well tandoori from malaysian standards),Thais,Chinese,Japanese,ofcourse Malays and a few blondes here and there.Lets not forget South East seeking Westerners from the west.A paradise for shopping.
Also a solid structure worth a threshold of million viewers - Twin Towers.

Whenever i travel to a new destination , the word 'jaunt' recreates exclusive meanings in my head. Although I always end up walking around the rare exuberant interiors of a metropolis or a rural masterpiece.

Walking around KL was different , describing it as a city of diverse cultures and lights that follow one wherever the footsteps lead.Each culture is preserved in its own boundaries , reminds you of your mothers collection of excuisite pickeles each preserved in a different bottled and each relished according to its neccesity.All of it confined to a supreme Malay acculturation.

The above images are taken in a perception that will hit many but intrigue a few.the above are the villages that surround the 'Petronas Tower'.While jaunting around the city and sweating my forehead off the humid weather i decided to jaunt in different yet exclusive manner i.e. in a target oriented manner.I followed the towers on foot.Since these towers are huge in size and deep in design , You can see them from evry corner of the city , even mopre prominent at night , it acts as a watchtower with selffish lights embedded efficiently .Now the only way you can reach them is by skytrain(I found that out when i reached its boundary walls that were helping the neighbourhood construct Mini Marvels in a distinct concrete hope ). While walking I observed the distinct smell of purity and work amongst the residents , a laid back nature that explains nothing but intelligent hardwork, dustbin ashtrays that were full.Malays living their routine ,Skys Scrappers which define perfection , all in all a distinct yet interesting life of a abruptly defined metropolis.

I entered a lane that was small yet cozy , it was cofortable to walk on , although it had houses on each side . It was a colonial village. each house was beautifully made of wood and cement , a compulsary garage in each with a wooden protective shed to protect it naturally . A kitchen garden that supports lush green grass and a few flowers . Topless mechanic working in a small garage wearing caps towards their necks , huge speakers and loud pop music.Laid back atmosphere and drunk old men discussing finance and family,Youngsters smoking marijuana in a corner which was visible to every one, small restaurants that only serve tea and cheap bakery items.Surprisingly each house supported with 02 well built sports cars .

This was probably the only area where i found true Malay life , which is probably not potrayed properly but if empathised properly says it all.

Jane's Monologues

2007-08-06T13:00:00.000-07:00
"It was sunny when I woke up" said Jane. Lifting her head up , not glaring at the dirty white bed sheets that lay crumbled and crushed on her antique bed.Her red hair wandered in all directions to find neatness.Her antique creaked when she sat up.With her bruised hand on her nose and the other healthy palm on her head.

The mirror accross the wall was far , yet she could see her squandered blue eyes , dark marks of eye liner waste on her cheeks and temples.She could still smell her own stink ...probably the rum she had last night.Cracks on her walls were significant to her present lifestyle.

A house fly went blind in wilderness when it flew accross Jane's dusty room.It flew through the broken jars and made a safe landing on the antique's side table , where it could smell bread crums and salad leaves dipped in rum.

"It was sunny when I woke up" said Jane , when a strong breeze drew away newspapers and old documents distinctly marked with coffee stains.It made her eyes open wide , only to witness her own chaos.She moved to the left side of the bed and removed her outworn , torn bedsheets to expose her soft white skin that had nail marks drawn all over.She put her legs down towards her brand new slip ons , after snubbing a piece of left over cloth.

She left her antique and walked towards the rest room , glaring at her mess .
20 years of hard work and she ends up in a death hole!

Where did she go wrong?

Proper education , proper expirience a profitable job ...everything seemed just perfect.She was tall , beautiful and drew attention wherever she strolled.Probably last night was the night she realised her mistakes , although taking aggressive actions didnt change her soul.

She fixed her hair and entered the restroom.Which was small yet equipped , the shower dripped , the flush wasnt working . She washed her face and wiped her stains ...only to find blood stains on her bathroom floor...they looked fresh yet they wernt.The curtains had red fingerprints and sploshes of blood on them. Behind the curtain their was a blur image that sent shivers through her nerves...Each spilt raves of guilt and happiness.It was someone close who had slept behind these translucent curtains.

Probably she did realise her mistakes afterall.Getting married wasnt the right thing to do at an age of 16.It took her 4 years to realise her issues.Behind the curtain was something that had once made her the happiest person alive .

There it was 4 years of compatibility , a silent comatose that shaved her ethnicity.
It took her a long time to realise that her husband was a rake and had killed her soul , who indeed had killed her grieving mother.He was the man who forced her to poke needles through her evergreen veins , making them cold ,dull and useless.

She moved the curtains to her right and saw her lovers distorted face , was he still cheating on her or was he finally sleeping alone?

"It was sunny when I woke up' she exclaimed again , only to absorb a grey ambiance that sniped the cityscape.her blue eyes were wider than ever before , her soul was her's again.although her skin was skimmed with fresh goosebumps...for fear still remains inevitable.

élan

2007-05-31T10:57:00.000-07:00
While walking past the colossal lanes designed for my colony , i came across a small shed .As I glared into the compressed warehouse of clothes that wasn't large enough to hold more than 4 cows.I peered through a family of 6.

If I have to describe this fellowship I would consider it as an honor... as they did make me realise something that has always been there at the back of every youths head.

The man of the house was ironing out the clothes collected by his wife from a set of houses in the corner of the colony. He was wearing a vest with torn edges or should i say it had no stitch along its border , just as his family according to me didn't. He had a stubble which was covered with sweat both fresh and and the one that streamed from his forehead. probably as there was no fan in that so called open cellar.You could see his heavy yet thin shoulders intensifying towards the centre .A collar bone that was yet to be filled with majestic flesh.

His wife who was tired of giving birth to 4 children ; who were sitting on the floor in a profound chronological manner with their torn notebooks.All except the youngest ward, were practicing how to write in English ,whereas he was scribbling something on a used sheet of paper covered with lemonish oil stains.Probably he found it on the road as there was a cart 15 steps away from his workplace where a vendor sold laborious food cooked in used mustard oil.The lady of the cellar wore a terracott Saree with common flower prints . Her breasts were visible since she was drenched in sweat...well i would assume the cause as a result of swithering distress - not for herself but for her unsuccessful husband.She was sitting in the corner of the outworn shed which was covered with a mixture of aluminium and fibre sheets....with her legs open forming a distinctive shape around her Saree smoking a beedi . she was showing a sign of disgust and emotional bankruptcy in every cloud of smoke she blustered

The children looked happy since the way they were grasping their ingenious knowledge . Probably they found English amusing.

I would say the scribble portrayed by the youngest ward was a scribble worth a thousand stares. Although there were chaotic & circular in shape they had a fixed pattern .
my views on his work of art are a little elusive .

For it described the modern Indian bliss....where education prevails poverty and of course cellars persist in workplaces as to afford a descent workplace is next to impossible in a metro like delhi.My views don't matter...what matters is how incredible India's growth defines itself!

I would say... that scribble defines my life or may be every youths life....It adds a scribble in our daily routine that helps us figure out the numerous catacombs that have been constructed by our inconsistent lifestyles.
Even though its a terrible thing to waste..at the same time its a scribble that's yet to be untangled...without a borrowed pen or an eraser!!

Bah huh...who m I kidding isnt curruption responsible for the increase in mordernism?

7 minutes and 30 seconds...

2007-05-18T08:08:00.000-07:00
Sometimes work does become a little monotonous...i usually go for a smoke in between...my office is on the third floor...i take the elevator...the elevator ride from the third floor to the upper ground floor is not more than 30 secs long...i see people from different professions...waiting for the elevator and while they stand inside the elevator...a group of diverse individuals i wouls call them...since people who stand in an elevator usually dont behave like humans....i guess the enclosed transport and divine silence...rips them off their humanity..i see how conscious each individual is..well...if we start from runners..as the name suggests they run around for the smallest possible work that seems irrelevant but if strained upon is so very important...they stand in a comparitively unsmart manner...staring at the elevator cieling which acts as a diaphanous plastic structure in terms of the fire bricks installed along its path...there faces are filled with expressions that potray regret...boredom..divine ambitiousness...on the other hand theres the elevator boy...who struggles to mainain his moustache...and sometimes middle aged females...who probably are going through the worse stage of menopause..they re sick of their cuckolding husbands and sick of their vague work profile...blasé governs their life...with a twist in its dictionary origin.And ofcourse stressed impatient employees...who arnt satisfied with what they have....ahhh aspirations...who doesnt have them..?...

The so called 30 sec ride ends with ... gaffers who are stigmatized by their workers...wives and children...probably by their families too..waiting in front of the upper ground floor elevator in front of a plasma television that never works...what can i say..a defective advert...i say this for both of the given products...animate as well as the inanimate...

i take a right towards the ciggarette shop...the guy who sits there usually fights with evryone for a lost pen or a torn comodity...i usually dont wait at his shop for a long time since...the guy has a hearing problem or should i say ignorance prevails over insignificance...i walk towards another shop...though the path is strict with a lot of garbage that defines ur path and differentiates it from a way...after the garbage heap theres a state bank ATM ...fully air conditioned with a south indian guard...in an eastern disguise..who's imitation techniques...and talents are probably benefitial for his succes...hes a kannadigan basically...probably a Badaga who fought against his family traditions and came towards the northern city...to make it big....in the city..even though he ended up in a profession that outwits his charecter...but still manages to copy his ATM users...he has learnt fluent english ...hindi...a bit of french and ofcourse loads of abuses....

i reach the shop...search for my brand.. and ask for a cigarette ... usually the guy prefers working damsels but i do manage my cigarette....after that?
..dont think i need to tell anyone how i smoke my cigarette....

Lets just say i think about the after effects of the 30 sec ride to my humdrum...

Detour....

2007-05-07T09:00:00.000-07:00
There was a man who used to tour around his country.....
for a simple goal - 'pleasance'.
he travelled through....all the mountains...all the rivers....
visited all the seas that surround the peninsula....wasnt satisfied....he fell through all the terrains....he fell through all the wells...the ones that uphold acculturation....and the ones that are empty......
but what he didnt know was the ones left are all empty!!!

lets cut the story short he died on the tracks of old delhi...
his grave lies below platform no. 6.....decorated with white tiles
and profound artistry.....

Simplified Solutions

2007-03-13T09:38:00.000-07:00

The problems of the world are so colossal, so very complex, that to understand and so to resolve them one must approach in a very simple and direct manner.Though simplicity and directivity depend on outward circumstances but are linked to a self created dimension that you certify as life.Your problem is the worlds problem! one thing we all have to agree with.No matter how we deal with it. But human tendency creates oppurtunities and solutions to evry despair.When you take a step down to memory lane you go through various images that tend to create realisation of regret , dissapointment , joy , anger and joy again. Here i ' ve mentioned 'joy' again as it relates to the joy of overpowering your sentimental dissapointments . It also depends on the factual desire that you help your mind and body to adapt with.The realm of factuality must be distinguished from the realm of imagination.For many" finding solutions for their problems" is a dream . Filled with a zillion ideas and a trillion solutions.A collage of pessimism and optimism that governs their thoughts or for that fact their daily routine.A question raised for consideration or solution is undefined just as success is , just as love is , just as enjoyment is.
If you wish to resolve evrything hat troubles you ....then go step wise..period wise or for that fact problem wise.So the next time if your past troubles you or you create your own innovative troubles....take a deep breath and let your mind control your soul instead the other way around.