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Monthly Archives: July 2009

Snana madiko yendu,
Peedisivavaru nodu,
Nedhe bittu, yeddi kuru,
Oota madi, pata vodu,
Chikka Jeeva Horaya Nodu
Chikka Jeeva Horaya Nodu


It was the first time in Fashion,
Bangalore was taken seriously,
Coping up with the Metros,
Was Bangalore certainly.

They knew it wasn’t easy,
They knew they weren’t big,
They put the show together,
It was a Dream Merchants gig.

The whos-who was present,
The big names showed their crafts,
It was an opportunity sure,
For Creative (wo)men of sorts.

There were some who went conventional,
There were some so refershing new,
The Gorgeous girls sashayed the ramp,
Dressed in impressive hues.

Babycorns and Peacocks on yards,
Mohit wowed the crowd,
The trendy magic of Ramesh Dembla,
Made our city men proud.

Bhakti’s and Kaira’s designs,
Bridged the west south gap,
Diganth, Zulfi and Jackie,
Were the stars for whom, all clapped.

At last there was the bubbly,
Samant Chauhan, oh boy!
He cast a spell that everyone loved,
A fresh new trend, ahoy!

Awaiting for the days ahead,
Are all the fashion freaks,
When Manoviraj Khosla and Rocky S,
Will show Bangalore their streaks.

Walk up, Walk down,
In Green, In Brown,
Till dusk, from dawn,
In a long, short gown.

Steps to the song,
A sweet smile long,
A whish, and a turn,
Then a stare that can burn.

Some hep, some bland,
Some none can stand,
Some drool, some pause,
At the end, all applause.

“Its just a small lil herb’, he said,
‘What harm will it do to me?”
He chewed it, while they smoked up,
“I hate to smoke” said he.

In a while before he knew of it,
He had a dizzy feeling,
His roof went high below his toe,
His world had a different meaning.

He felt as if he was seeing a show,
Whence his mates were scoring neat,
He liked the feel of his every step,
Being lighter than his feet.

And then the table turned and skewed,
Right before his eyes,
All the people around him dear,
Looked like tiny mice.

He fought the floating sense sometimes,
And shook his head to see,
He was standing with a plate in his hand,
There was no sign of the meal.

Did he eat or did he not,
Was a puzzle too big to crack,
He washed his hands off the morsels,
And fell into dreams in a snap.

Again, as the Tradition of Polished Crap goes, there is yet another parallel I am drawing, yet another flavor to savor. Just spilling some creativity on the floor! Ideas and opinions, I feel could be implemented in the marketing / advertising / design world, will look like posts. And this time, its prose.

Its not that you are cursed,
You’re not a blimey slave,
Its not your fate that turns worse,
You’re not a mere doll of clay,

You have feelings and thoughts,
Which warn you every day.
You have yourself to answer to,
You dont just breathe alive to stay,

Listen to it with caution,
Hear your conscience scream in pain,
You are no master of your own,
You Disobey. You Pay.

Not life, Not love,
Its our mind thats screwed up,
Not luck, Not chance,
Its We who give up,
Can see that bright light at the end of the tunnel,
It just that its steep and scary to go up.

Are we scared, oh! Yes,
Then why blame whatever,
Its just another opportunity,
That was devoured by our fear.


Heaven and Hell are mere illusions,
God and Devil created to scare,
The surprise that life unveils is thus,
Death is the beginning of every new dare!

What do I mean? Am I insane?
No! Its just life on another plane.
Where one believes not that he won,
Until he rolled in the river of pain.

Dard-e-Dil ki dastaan hai ye,
Bhikre kwaab ke armaan hai ye,
Aap chahe isse shayari samjhe,
Mere beete hue ehsaas hai ye.

Her eyes are Music,
Her lips are notes,
Her looks are poetry,
Her charm is wrote.

Need I dream,
When fairies are true?
Angel or Devil,
She’s Gorgeous for sure.

The mind plays a dirty game,
For it craves selfishly, for an easy name,
When you’re in love, you are talked about,
You fall out of it, and its gossip for louts,
Your idea sounds zing, they lap it up,
Expectations fail, you are screwed up,
You lose, you gain, its all the same,
For the mind only needs, its claim to fame.

I watch the drowning sun,
The color of blush on the horizon,
It seems so happy today,
The vividness of the crimson.

And there is the new full moon,
Peeping from the silver lining,
Making the night so proud,
She is brighter today and smiling.

And I wished for the day I would see,
The sun and the moon together,
Sliding away into the clouds,
Kissing one another.

It’s a belief that better quality means more money. And the canvassers of this concept, sell their goods at sky high profits. Recession came as a blow to many, including brands and traders. Prices of goods fell, in the form of discounts, as consumers weighed less on their pockets.

The big brands fell flat on their face, when the buyers realized the true value of things around. Do we see regret? Not for too long.

After all this, there would still be people, who will rake up their rates and talk the same lingo again. And the brand followers will end up paying the price they quote.

The question arises then, if quality was measured in terms of money, would it mean that the less affording strata of the society, deserve lousy products? Is it fair of the big companies to play this game?

What say? Express uninhibited! Discuss your opinion! After all the power is in the thought, more than the words.

Worry ends, where Faith begins.

“So howz it going?”, she asked,
“Nothing crazy!”, I said.
“It’s been long”.”Oh Yes!”
“‘Twas my fault, I confess”

“‘Twas Early?!” she quipped
“I hid from the world,
cos I wasted my years,
Guess I deserved it, no tears”

“What’s on with you?” “I’ve moved on”
“I knew that. What when I was gone!”
“Yep! No sign of you, I called everyone I knew,
And then I assumed, You had somebody new”

“No! Never! Not at all,
I could never do that to you”
“Who would believe you,
When all said ’twas true”

“So did you get wed?” “No.”
“Can we get back again?”
“Listen Fella, STOP it,
I Don’t want this again!”