The Scorched Soul Erotica...

If you doubt your dependence on God, stop taking pain killers. Just one good headache will remind you how fragile we really are.

I am driving to Nanded from Aurangabad on SH177 and at Jalna I see a green coloured neon sign that reads Nanded 246 KMs. Some 100m down the line is another sign, Nanded 226 KMs. Then after 4 KMs, I read a sign that says Nanded 255 KMs. Now obviously, we have a problem here. No, it’s not the bed intruder. The problem is that there is not enough reservation in jobs! There is not enough representation in legal terms for certain people. And the solution is that at least a small fraction, perhaps 22.35% of all candidates, should be chosen upon merit. Mind you, this is not a one-off problem. I saw similar milestones on NH2 between Agra and Faridabad. Palwal was getting farther I more I drove towards it, if I were to believe the milestones! Now I am not against reservation for different classes and sects. No sir. Because if you choose people upon merit, then even candidates who compete within reserved quotas would be good. But I am against the informal, undisclosed reservation that c...

Marriage ceremonies can be discreet, in a few cases, but in vast majority of cultures and religions, the ceremony is a social affair. In cultures which do not allow extra-marital or premarital relations (which traditionally I think almost all didn’t), the event should be such so as to make the general population aware that two people have been legally wedlock and hence are entitled to stay together without the people’s objection, or better still, with their cooperation. So in a small village, all the village folk could be gathered to proclaim the event. In larger ones, someone’s community or relatives or friends may be invited to attend the event. We have religions like Christianity and Islam where marriages are a relatively quiet affair with the presence of only a few relatives and close friends, generally speaking. Then we have religions like Hinduism and Indian versions of Christianity and Islam, wherein every bloody person who ever got acquainted with the couple or their fa...

I was, like most of us, brought up to believe that truck drivers are the most badass people in the world. They are crude, lack manners and mercy, drink and drive dangerously, have no families waiting back at home, would squash your car to pulp if you came in their way, blah blah. I had no reason to believe in the above, but it had been somehow passed from common knowledge into mine. Now one day, back in my college days, I had gone to Haldwani for some work and got late. My college, at Pantnagar, was some 30 KMs away, and the last train had left half an hour ago. There were no buses at night for Bareilly, which could drop me at the University gate, and the late night buses to Delhi took the Tanda bypass at night, which would drop me some 5 KMs from the college. So although instinctively I found hitching a ride from a truck at night dangerous, I had no option but to try for it. I gave my hand to a few but all were going to the local mandi a few KMs ahead. About half a...

This post was written by my dear friend, Mr. Satyajeet Das , who happens to be a part time professor and author when he is not contemplating such awesome stuff. I have borrowed it from his Facebook page so that it can be shared with more people. It's a heart wrenching story about a cockroach who went to his favorite diner for lunch, but found himself amongst cruel people who mistreated him and ripped him of his dignity. Even his old friend, the waiter, deserted him for more opportune friends. So here goes... For my PDP students: While I was in a Restaurant, suddenly a cockroach flew from somewhere and sat on a lady standing a little away from me. She started screaming out of fear. With panic stricken face and trembling voice, she started jumping, with both her hands desperately trying to get rid of the cockroach. Her reaction was contagious, as everyone in her group got cranky to what was happening. The lady finally managed to p...

If you have ever tried to evade a question, then know that you were wrong (in that for which the question was being asked). Our minds work faster than our awareness of it. It reasons faster than we can realize, and reason tells the thoughts not to turn to that question, as a measure of self defense. If you were correct, you would face the question. As you were avoiding facing the question, you were wrong. Our minds know the difference between right and wrong, and we don't need anyone to tell us these things. But still people lie and cheat and deceive, including me at times, for which I ask Allah's forgiveness. Why? And I guess one of the strong reasons for lying, cheating, deceiving, blah blah is ease. Physical and mental ease. I steal cause it's much harder to earn an honest living. And stealing is not what the thieves who we read of in story books as children do. It is done intricately and in an infinitely more refined way through economics. So physical ease is o...

“Before you can grow up, you must fall in love three times…” My colleague in office is quite a philosopher sometimes. His name is Paul, so we call the manure he spews out Paulosophy. He is particularly bullish on love, and recently he gave us some gnana that I feel is worth writing down. So here goes… There are three stages of love, according to the sage Paul. And one may experience all three or any combination thereof. The first stage is during the teenage years, around the age of 14 to 16. True love at this stage is not possible. It most probably is an infatuation, or your sex drive overpowering your thinking. This kind of love seeks attention, gets intimidated by others, is jealous and selfish rather than selfless and is soon lost with age like the bubbles from an open can of coke, leaving a bitter dank liquid behind. The person is too young to understand relationships, too unsure of himself to really love a person selflessly, and life is too full of opportunities to ...

"What matters our creative, endless toil, when at a snatch, oblivion ends the coil"  - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust Yesterday while on the road, I saw a bitch cross the road. I was doing 90 on a village highway with no regard to the suspension or the  squeaking  door hinges, just because the vehicle was not mine. So I saw this bitch cross the road. And then a little distance behind her her two little pups followed their mum. I swear I could've braked. I could've slowed down. But it was a bitch. So I didn't.  By the time we passed them, she had crossed over to the other side. One puppy who was on her heels was across too. But the second one, who had been looking around and had been left behind, probably because he was not inclined to be a momma's boy, was not so lucky. I lazily moved the steering to the left and then straight. But as fate would have it, he hit my tire. Let out a small squeal as he gave up the ghost. Our vehicle did not even feel...

(Found this in my mailbox...and the memories came flooding back...So good luck reading :) )   Growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day you're in diapers, the next day you're gone. But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. I remember a place, a town, a house like a lot of other houses, a yard like a lot of other yards, on a street like a lot of other streets. And the thing is, after all these years, I still look back, with wonder     what would u do if i sang out of tune would u stand up & walk out on me? Lend me your ears & I’ll sing u a song & I’ll try not to sing out of key   Love can tear and rip you apart. It can kill you. But if you're lucky, it can put you back together...   When you are a little kid you are a bit of everything; Scientist, Philosopher, Artist. Sometimes it seems like growing up is giving these things up one at a time...   ...Children leave...and parents stay behind. Still,...

Upon checking out from my hotel in Aligarh , Uttar Pradesh one morning, they informed me that the telephone line was down, and hence I could not use my credit card. They would have to send a waiter along with me to collect the payment from the ATM. Now this waiter was a Muslim, and judging by my beard that I was Muslim too, he asked me my name. And that was how the conversation started. He told me that he worked the night shift at the hotel, and during the day he studied for High School exams. I was touched by the thought that a person who craved education was forced to work nights as a waiter at a hotel, and I felt a tinge of sadness for the poor state of our country. Education is a prized possession, but the priorities in our country are such that often what is worthy commands a lowly price. I felt pity for the poor soul sitting beside me. And I felt sad for the misguided system of ours that lets deserving people be disappointed. I expressed my sympathy and told him th...

Dad had a friend by the name of Mr.M.Ali. The only memories I have of him were about the time I was in High School. He was an intriguing man, and somehow inspiring too, although there was nothing I got inspired for under his influence. He was careful not to do that... He was old and of an ailing age. One day, I met him at his tailor’s shop and asked about his health. He replied that he was fine, but that sometimes he felt weak. And since I had found him in his shop today, he said, I should know that he was fine. For, he carried on, if he felt weak, he would not come out in public. The people oppress the weak, he said. He used to say that ever since he was small, he had always wanted  not to find an employment, but  to become an employer. And Allah had blessed him with his wishes.  He lived in Haldwani, at the foothills of Nainital. Now in Haldwani, communal living can be seen in one of the clearest ways. There is a separate area where the Sardars live, and ano...

It was late in the evening on a hot summer day in May. I was in a market in Rampur in Western UP. Already most of the shops were closed and the remaining ones were preparing to call it a day. The heat of the summer afternoon had given way to a dust storm so strong that the people were forced to take shelter inside shops and pull down the shutters. Sand from ongoing constructions was being blown in waves across the road even as new waves of dust were swept along from the country-side. The commuters on bikes, unable to continue in the wind, had parked their bikes on the sides and were standing cautiously along the roadside wary of trees and electricity poles that might come down with the wind. As is expected in UP, the electricity board had cut off the electricity and except for light from some inverters, it was all dark and dusty. Most people, like me, had taken shelter inside any open shop or restaurant, waiting for the storm to abate. A man, undaunted by the storm, passed up by ...

Children can be so cute at times you could die. It's something that evolution instilled in us to prevent some of us from devouring their tender flesh... Uhm, sorry for digressing there... Well, one of my cousins has a one and a half year old son who's a naughty little devil. He's very adorable, but then again, he's the nemesis for many of his own age. Beating up kids, tearing their hair apart, smashing his toy scooter into the legs of unsuspecting passers-by... All the naughtiness that can be found in that age. So anyway, as a wicked joke on my cousin, somebody taught his little son some swear words. So one day, the boy's in the shop, and in come two girls who see him, are overcome by the cuteness and go to him crying out, fingers getting ready to pull them cheeks pink, "ollee. what a sweet baby!". To which the dude replies, "botlikey"! And the girls quietly turn around and leave. Not quite sure shocked or horrified.

I woke up sometime in the night on the wrong side of the bed, with my feet where my head had been when I had gone to sleep. I had been possessed by the devil that night. It was just a door that had some weird graffiti in pink on a white colored brick wall that I had been staring at. Then something flew at me and bit me on my thumb, on the fleshy side. It was a painful sting. And it left a black blob inside my skin, like the poison from a bee sting. Naturally, I squeezed my thumb to drain the blob out. No success. And then I saw that blob move away and turn into a baby bat. Right inside my thumb! Now I knew who had bit me. It was Satan, who left his offspring inside my skin to feed on my blood and grow inside of me. I knew I had to get that blob out. Lightless as a feather my head took flight. And I saw the stupid race of humanity far below me as only humans have the capability to see. I was in a state of trance with time on my side and the world as a safe haven for my body. I g...

It was a quarter to twelve on the night of February 13th, and my friend and I were returning from work at the STU. The road was dark and deserted, and like a diseased sun the orange glow from the street lamps painted parts of the road a fading shade of orange. My friend was feeling hungry so we were hoping that we might find some shop open. But all was deserted and quiet. We crossed the foot-over bridge over the local railway line and were headed back to our place. And then we saw that man, around 50 years old, with his push cart parked on the empty roadside, selling bananas. What he was doing there, sitting there in that odd hour when no soul but that like us would be coming along, we didn't know. But even though it seemed too much like the horror movies, we were only too glad to find him there. We approached the cart and looked at the bananas. They were all very ripe and just touching them made them fall from their stems. We bought some for ourselves and paid him fourty bucks. I ...