Monday, December 19, 2011

Mindyandy

Faraway, in a land of sparrows and oranges, lay half a million bugs under a boulder. Bug Andy was a funny bug. He was always playing tricks. But he had a good heart and bad breath. Bug Andy had an accomplice named Bug Mindy. Bug Mindy was a gleeful insect. Always helpful and willing to participate in all of Andy's pranks.
One day, a giant snake named Python Xavi overturned the boulder and there lay exposed the half million bugs scurrying away as fast as their tiny bodies would permit.Python Xavi in a huge act of deviousness leaped at the bugs and quietly scooped half of the million bugs. Bug Andy was mortified. He and the surviving half managed to enter into a rabbit hole.
Rabbit George was perched at his desk eating an orange and poring over his papers. He was a judge of the highest order. Bug Andy crept up unto his ear and shouted, "We bugs are in great danger! Save us from the python." Bug Mindy cried, "Yes Rabbit George! Save us from the python's wrath!" Rabbit George was alarmed and pleased at the same time. Pleased because he felt honoured the bugs asked him for counsel and also because the Python Xavi was always stealing the oranges that he foraged for with such great difficulty.
He readily agreed and the next morning, Python Xavi was summoned to the rabbit's hole. He appeared late with a dead mouse in his mouth, still devouring the rat's flesh. Rabbit George then asked Xavi why he ate the bugs when there were rats in such great bounty. Xavi replied, his snakelike voice booming in the underground haven, "Me like me some bugsssss once in a while." Saying this, he once again leaped at the bugs. Doing so, he gobbled half of the remaining half of the total bug population. Bug Andy and Bug Mindy, however were saved. He quickly got an idea, and alongside Mindy, crept out of the hole.
A minute later, they came back down and then the bespectacled Rabbit George declared in his rich accent, "Keeping in view the arguments set before me, I pronounce that Python Xavi be forbidden to eat any bug from this moment on" Python Xavi hissed and said, "Let'sss see about that," but before he could take a fresh swipe at the few remaining bugs, ten sparrows flew down the rabbit hole and started pecking the snake thus piercing and making small holes in his long pipe like body. Python Xavi withered wildly and screamed madly with pain.
Out of the holes on the snake's body came oozing out all the bugs that were presumed dead and out crawled Xavi vowing never to trouble the bugs again. All good was restored in the land of sparrows and oranges and Bug Andy and Bug Mindy got married before the very same judge, Rabbit George.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Mo Kotz


Who we are never changes. Who we think we are does.

By not over thinking the less intelligent handle emotions better.

Bravery is being the only one who knows you're afraid.

Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit; wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.

Tact is the art of making a point without making an enemy.

To err is human, to arr is pirate.

You must learn to see what you're looking at.

My Idea of God


I believe in a sexless power.
Unassuming, omnipresent.
A force that changes, forms, and adapts.
Without which nothing would have ever been.
Without which nothing would exist.
It is not a God. Neither any being, human or alien.
It is the founder of nothing and completer of everything.
In it exists the source of everything.
And it lacks nothing.
And in it's simplicity lies its complexity.

Lame songwriting that will not culminate into a song!


Every time I see your face
You I crave to embrace
Every time you glance at me
I'm weak in my knees
every time you looked at me and closed your eyes
I felt like I could no more disguise
every time you lied
every time I cried
all those days I felt like I would fly
And all those nights I felt like I would die
Thanks but no thanks
I don't need your lovin'
I don't need your textin'
I don't need your bullshit
Thanks but no thanks
You lost your chance
Like you did your sanity
Before you you placed your vanity
Thanks but no thanks
Go take your fancy hat!

LIST!

I made a list of songs whose first syllable corresponds with the alphabet. For example, the first word in the song "More Than Melody" by Anna Nalick is Hey, so the corresponding alphabet is "H."


A After All This Time by Simon Webbe
B Dangerously In Love by Beyonce
C Where Are You Now by Britney Spears
D Basket Case by Sara Bareilles
E Lucky by Radiohead
F Fly With You by Pete Murray
G A Beautiful Life by Lindsay Lohan
H Hey there Delilah by the Plain White Tees
I Closer by Travis
J Love The Way You Lie by Rihanna
K Kahi Aag Lage from "Taal"
L Love Is Blindness by Trespassers William
M Your Love Is My Drug by Kesha
N Slipped Away by Avril Lavigne
O Let Me Go by 3 Doors Down
P Everyday by Dave Matthews Band
Q Kyunki Itna Pyar Tumko from some Hindi movie
R Halo by Beyonce
S End where I begin by The Script
T Sand In My Shoes by Dido
U Mama Do by Pixie Lott
V Sorry by Maria Mena
W Just Around The River Bend from "Pocahontas"
X Wish You Were Here by Radiohead
Y Early Winter by Gwen Stefani
Z Zoobie Doobie from "3 Idiots"

Wednesday, November 02, 2011

Yoga in Goya

I will always remember the day I felt one with the earth while lying on the grassy floor of the secluded grove in the middle of the undiscovered tropical forest listening to the deep sounds from all around and holding in my hand the rough, small and irregularly shaped rocks and remotely aware of my sense of self while gazing at the endless canopy of pine trees strong and proud below the limitless untouched sky that was so sparsely littered with stars, there was barely any space between them. I watched till my entire being, and all that I am aware of, drowned in a slumber so sweetly enchanting I felt I was floating and when my eyelids opened I was overjoyed to find that I was indeed transported onto the still calming waters of the vast ocean. Never moving, my body felt weightless. My mind even more light. This was what life was all about. Getting lost. Not finding yourself, not uncovering hidden truths, not having epiphanies, not discovering unknown answers to unanswerable innumerable questions. Life was about getting to a place wherein you consume the world and the world consumes you. About abandon, about true freedom, about feeling lighter than it's ever been possible for any being to feel.

Friday, October 28, 2011

Jaraka's Gewata

In the great mountains of Uvapishidora, there are rich and at random locations, well decorated in flowery embroidery and intricately adorned Ape Kings for each range and a mighty sword each of great lineage. But they never go to war, they just use the swords to check the ripeness of their many lovely myriad variety of exotic fruits.
Among these great Ape Kings or Yeshums, there is one of them of certain distinguishness that for this story to have a plot, if not be another one of my foolish night writings, has to be talked about, well, in humongous detail. Hell, imma make this all about King Jaraka. Because, one, a short story is best with the least employment of characters and it's way past midnight, and two, because I'm no Christopher Paolini thinking up awesome weird names.
Okay, so King Jaraka here, was a pretty awesome kind of king. Kind of like the emperor in the 'Emperor's new groove,' minus the skinniness and the eventual show of heart in his character. (Come on, I have to show SOME originality.)
Moving on, Jaraka was massive. The biggest, meanest ape. Hell, he was so mean, he just had to look at them fruits and say, "they're ready" in his sexy, gruff baritone. His sword hadn't been touched since he started to rule his range of the mountains. It was just kept there, beside his throne, as a show piece, because it looked so good. In fact, it looked too good to be used. Jaraka was in that sense, a big show off. He had the best looking apewomen as his mistresses, the finest adornments, the ripest fruits arranged disorderly (because that was considered to be of the highest order) in his yelluminum platter.
One day, while Jaraka lay in the recliner especially designed with the top levels of comfort for his size, he had a thought. He wondered why the mountains were so purple, why the fruits so many different shades of purple. He wondered why his women had purpler hair than their bodies and why babies were so purple for the first 10 months of their lives, why every thing in the world he knew was PURPLY!
His frustration grew, as it should; all unyielding thoughts are ill known to aggravate that sorry state. It occurred to him that beyond all reasoning, there had to be an explanation. There had to be a world existing far above the skies or on Thashir, which is what they called the moon, which was also kind of purple. He felt zealous and energized by the thought that grew overwhelmingly fast and seemed to encapsulate all his being with a vitality he hadn't felt before. A sense of purpose to discover the unknown: a mystery that could lead him and all of Uvapishidora to a world of new unexplored things. A world not so purple, perhaps. The purpleness of things started to irritate him now.
Everywhere he looked, there was purple. In the river he saw purple fishes, in the sky, purple birds. He didn't even know the word purple. In his mind everything looked 'tomban'. There was an ever growing sense of urgency that prevailed inside of him. He was tired and sick of the tombaness of things.
And so he closed his eyes, and slept for 28.5 hours, because that was the longest time a Yeshum could sleep before suddenly disappearing into oblivion. Without alarm clocks or such technology, Yeshums would awake solely on survival instinct. And because Jaraka was the awesomest King, he awoke exactly at the 28.5th hour, not a millisecond less. The other Yeshums would awake at the 28.2nd hour out of sheer paranoia. But he went the farthest, as with everything. He was the limit-breaker, the brave-hearted and sturdy King with intellect, as clearly shown earlier, as that of any well human.
As soon as Jaraka awoke, the tombaness of things again shook him so violently, that it was also physical. He awoke, growling with such an extremity and loudness, so as to awake and anger a pride of young healthy lioness'. There was, unfortunately no amount of yelling that could help his situation.
He realised this after a good 7.75 minutes. I said he was intelligent, but not that much. He is an ape after all.
Then he sat on the ground wearing a doleful expression identical to that of a nine year old pug who has given birth to 23 puggies, and so has the wisdom enough to carry off the look with perfect credibility.
Another thing that separated Jaraka from the other Yeshums was that he had 21st century sun glasses on, 24/7. He hadn't even known he was wearing them, because in that era, there were no forms of reflection. The other Yeshums thought that Jaraka was born with "that special gift" and were too proud to ask him about it, they knew in their minds that it was probably what made him so mighty and mean. When Jaraka saw other kings, he felt more handsome than them, but his face, he felt, was just like the other apes. The others called the glasses his Gewata behind his back. Jaraka's Gewata was quite the chick magnet. The women dug the whole unique look. They thought it made him special. And it did. Little did he know, but the glasses had a purple/tomban tint. And the reason he thought babies were purple for 10 months is because he never saw older than 10 month babies.
Jaraka got fed up of his doleful expression. It took him a lot of muscle movement to get the look right and he was itching for a meal. He called Jenupa, his favourite woman, and asked her to make him something to eat. But it had to be untomban. She stood puzzled, big breasted and bimbo looking. (yes fascination with boobs dates THAT far back.) She had zero clue as to what to do. She dared not ask him what he meant for fear of not being his favourite anymore. She dared not question him, because she hated Kyalu, the other bigger breasted woman who was his number 2 woman, and Jenupa would not in her lifetime permit any Kyalu or Byalu, for that matter, to take her rightful position. For she earned it. The plastic surgeon, the same purple glasses bringer dude from the 21st century, was paid 57 bishies in Uvapishidora money to get herself her precious silicons. 57 bishies translated to barely .37 cents but what did Dr. Adams care. He was rich enough thanks to the amazing time machine he invented. Plus it was worth the fun of fixing purple sunglasses onto the face of the biggest baby he could find.
Jenupa wandered the mountain, searching for the untomban fruit. It was an aimless search, but remember, she was a bimbo, so she searched anyway, expecting herself to chance upon something untomban. It never occurred to her that if she did, she wouldn't know it's untombanity from the rest. So it was a fruitless search, quite literally and eventually she gave up the hunt, leaving her fate to rest on her big breasts, like other bimbos do.
She positioned herself in front of the King and told him she couldn't, for the life of her find him an untomban fruit, all the while heaving her large breasts dramatically, hoping for the desired effect of forgiveness.
Jakara, like all truly mean people with no heart in their character then asked her to 'buzz off' (yes that's where that phrase came from) and then proceeded, like Hitler, to commit suicide. He slept this time, without making any mental alarms to ever wake up. And alone in the Yeshum's cave, at the end of the 28.5th hour, he disappeared into oblivion. Oblivion, that for once, didn't look purple/tomban to his true, unglassed eyes.

This story is written as a tribute to the legendary Douglas Adams. Also, I made it a point to include all my favourite things. Apes, fruits, mountains, babies, pugs, Christopher Paolini :P, time machines, recliners, and boobs. I am straight, though, and single, if you are wondering, mysterious Mountainview California (nice single straight funny awesome male) stalker. Other stalkers too, actually, for all you know MV guy is an hairy old piggy perv. :)

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Kamna now Watchable!

My very own YOUTUBE CHANNEL!!! >>>> CLICK

I do covers on my guitar, sometimes without (if I don't like the chords ;)) and am working on some originals too!

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

New Quotes

For people who believe strongly in the illusiveness of life, to doubt would be more correct than to bear full conviction about anything at all. But then again that questions their primary belief in illusions. - Aditi

A world without faith in a higher power or a god is a better world where we can be responsible for our own actions; where we can be kind to one another because we want to and because it is the right thing to do instead of being frightened into behaving by the threat of divine punishment.

Many events may have defied your ability to explain, events that seem like miracles, but if you are convinced that you failed to understand them because you're still woefully ignorant about the universe and the learning will never stop, then, you cannot and will not believe that a deity altered the workings of nature.

Don't ignore reality in order to comfort yourself, for once you do, you make it easy for others to deceive you.

Understanding breeds empathy.

We do not write because we want to. We write because we have to.

For failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail.

If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and a man.

To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism. To steal from many is research.

Don't drown the man who taught you to swim.

Be careful about reading health books. You might die of a misprint.

Saturday, October 08, 2011

Mowgli

I only name this Mowgli because, one, I mention him twice, in two different contexts. And two, because naming it 'ponderings' or 'thoughts' would make it super done. Oh, and because Mowgli is awesome.

Experiences form a mind. Each person is defined by their experience, good or bad. A great mind directly correlates to great experiences. Each experience good or bad, constitutes each part of your beliefs. You believe what you see, what you're told, what you feel. But these are all obvious statements. As usual, I have a string of questions to complicate the simplicity of this fact, like every other common knowledge -- which is basically what we have led ourselves to believe is true, and thus have created facts. We see the ground and say it's the ground. We've forged an identity for this thing that looks kind of groundy and so we call it the ground. What makes the ground groundy we know is by it's characteristics. You name a white dog snowy, for example. But again I am drifting from my string of questions.
Experiences; they ought to teach you something that forms part of things you build faith in or lose faith in. It formulates and shapes the way you think.
Questions:
What if a bad experience, instead of lending good judgement, screws it up even more, so that you are forced to believe in untruths so passionately that it seems impossible for you to ever revert to yourself before that experience?
Is believing in the wrong that was the effect of that experience merely a state of fake wisdom, a false illusion that you are supposed to eventually grow out of and become a little more mature?
I hate that word, maturity. It signifies a state of conformity to normalcy; normalcy that is not even true, normalcy that is another fallacy created by everyone to maintain sanity. If we could do what we wanted whenever we wanted, if there was no lying, no wrongdoing, the world as we know it would fall apart. Truth is another fallacy which is confounding, because the word itself is so reminiscent of all that is honest and sincere. We need the lying, without lies nothing could exist. We tell ourselves things, lies, every second of the day. It's all a lie, what we see what we feel what we KNOW. What we know to be true isn't true for sure. The word know means you are told something or you have convinced yourself something. You can't just know anything. That's bullshit. If you give birth to a child and leave him to live alone. The trees the rivers the mountains aren't gonna take care of him. He'll die in 2 days. Well unless he's Mowgli.
Okay again, going back to the maturity topic. I hate having to mature. We tell ourselves it's the proper course, to "grow up", but question(s), where is the growing up when all we are learning to do is from what we see others do and what these 'others' tell us is the mature thing to do? Who told them how to be mature? Vedic scriptures, God books, self help books written by know-it-all life gurus? Shouldn't growing up come from doing things never been done? Rising, being different. I wonder what it feels like to be insane. Maybe that's something worth inspiring to be. Why strive for normalcy? Why be like everybody else? Why not aspire to know the unknown? Why, because of the sick undefeated ability of fear. It seeps inside and messes up everything. Everything we do is out of fear. We're doing so much, we become so mechanical about the doing of things, that the fear is minimized in the background and you never feel it or take notice of it anymore/ever. The truth is, we lie out of fear. Whatever we know, we have made ourselves know for fear of not knowing anything and going mad. But we don't know still, why going mad is such a bad thing. It could be the most liberating thing in the world.
It could be the most natural, the most simple thing in the world.
But our reasoning ability will never allow man to live simple. Or so we think, out of fear again I guess. Fear of the unknown which is so stupid yet totally understandable. I wish there was something you could get high on enough to forget the fear, maybe gulp down a barrel of beer? :)

Another thing I have been experiencing is this constant neverending need of man to be entertained. Why can't we sit idle? Why do we have to be in the state of enjoyment? It's the middle of the night, and after I am done with this I am going to things on my phone like check my facebook then my youtube and then google things like the hindi word for 'transcendental' and then if sleep is still far away, will make music with the nimble movements of my fingers against the bedside wood and then listen to a podcast or a song, then sit up and burp for a few seconds, then be fascinated with the building cats for five minutes, sit on the pot with the newspaper, or in the dark because I am afraid of moths that have on two occasions started to fly around randomly from nowhere as soon as I put the toilet light on... and then play Mowgli on my phone for half an hour and then... Okay maybe I should just meditate or count back from 1000, I read that tip online and it's worked a couple of times, I lose track around 600 and fade out. That ought to fix up the various glitches embedded in my brain. For the night. Isn't it so cool how you switch off for hours on end, unresponsive, and unconscious in world full of unexpected weird and wonderful dreams! :)
My idea for losing touch with 'reality' would be to get lost in a world full of lucid dreams and not even feel displaced or lost, but feel instead, a sense of complete belonging. I have in my life had only one lucid dream. Maybe tonight's my lucky night! :)

I still love Phil from Modern Family. I need to find myself some Phil in this world. I need Philly time. Maybe I should move to Philippines. Nah. Tobago still is looking very promising.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Reflections

Sitting in the backseat of her old Chevy
The girl is staring at herself in the rear view mirror
Her face is perfectly symmetric
Her eyes almond shaped
Her eyeballs the blackest black
There is a look of untouched innocence in those eyes
She's is but a girl of thirteen years
She is relaxed, and yet, has never felt a sense of such unprecedented gaiety before
She's on her way to a traditional ceremony
Her driver is driving swift and oblivious to his sole passenger
She is garbed in a red salwar kurta
Admiring herself, she feels no less than a bride
The hair is a symphony of soft musical waves;
A black cascade of dancing curls
The forehead is the size of her little finger
The eyebrows are slightly angular
The nose is long and straight and broad altogether
She has issues with her nose on an everyday basis
But not today.
Today she felt and looked the epitome of beauty
The lips are neither too thin, nor too thick
The jaw is neither high like a movie star's
Neither is it indistinct
The chin has a subtle dimple
The face is roundish, oval too
A smile appears, a small and vain appreciative smile
She is loving this moment of guiltless indulgence
She is loving herself
The smile widens to show her perfectly aligned pearly teeth
She moves up her busy gaze to each and every line and feature of her face
Then she closes in on the eyes.
She looks and looks, till a point where she shuts out all else
The smile slowly fades away
All she sees are the dark pools of her eyes
She doesn't feel her own presence
Time passes on.
Then her driver says, "We have reached."
And she jumps out of her reverie
She is greatly astonished;
Her reflection isn't hers anymore
She can't relate to that distantly beautiful face
Dumbfounded, she scrambles for the door and walks out
She looks at her legs moving forward
Depending on them to take her to a place identifiable
One step after another she takes, feeling numb and lost
She looks at her feet, her shoes; the shoes she meticulously picked for the occasion
And somehow none of it feels part of her
"Are these mine?
Who am I?
My name is Kamna.
Kamna. Kamna. Kamna. Kamna. Kamna. Kamna. Kamna. Kamna
Really? What a strange name!
That doesn't sound like me.
That is not me.
It's just my name.
Who am I then?
Without belonging, without associating with any one of these things I call mine, who am I?
This is my embodiment. I am trapped inside for as long as life takes me.
And I am to be responsible for, and aware of this body to serve my mostly selfish life goals.
It's like a game.
You don't know anything really and yet you have to ignore these life long unanswerable questions or lose your sanity trying to make sense of things.
Unless you have faith in a God.
That simplifies everything.
I don't want simple. Not yet."
Deep in thought, she hesitates, then enters the hall
Her friends greet her, some call out her name
The name she didn't even truly believe was hers not a moment ago
Looking at her hands, she abandons her thoughts
She finds solace in this familiarity.
For now, that is.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Werehuman

Unexpectedly she spewed hot fresh blood in the middle of the feud
She was appalled at her vision that was astoundingly askewed
She danced in circles; her rapture of great magnitude
Away she fanned away, the crowd, they booed
Towards the rotting brain of the toads, the flies with great discipline queued
She was alarmingly exquisite, not anything like the brood
Her master was by this evidence, indeed very shrewd
No one in her mind resided, none dared to intrude
An unquenchable hunger lingered in her for something that could be food
Unrequited are her desires, she can't help but be in such a dramatic mood
She stops her nimble feet as she announces the interlude
Cowering low she looks incredibly fragile now, dude
Her eyes give away her pain, there's no one there to have her soothed
She then scowls and all in a mighty fright were shoo-ed
Bounds herself in a ball rocking self, looking one, so well glued
Then she passes into the void, poor little Jude
Whispers goodbye to the world, unclaimed and never wooed


OH AND WHO ARE YOU, READER FROM MOUNTAIN VIEW, CALIFORNIA?
I SEE YOU HAVE BEEN READING MY BLOG QUITE A LOT!
I WOULD LOVE COMMENTS. :)
ENJOY THE VIEW.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

The Comic-al Boy

Look at that boy, sitting in the library
Attention consumed by a "Calvin & Hobbes" comic
For a full ten minutes we stalked him
While he sat innocent, oblivious on the stool
Not for a millisecond does he look up
So rapt is his adoration and attraction
He seems other-worldly
His every five seconds' smile
The sheer joy on his face
He looks the part; he's the epitome of what a reader should be
He's aged a decade plus five years passed
In those small smiles, and often big, un-suppressed expressions of pure emotion, lies his awe
Unbeatable, the subtle wholesomeness of his amusement
In his world, there exists nothing of this one
An undeniable fantasy world he lives in
It must break his heart so when Calvin's adventures end!

And... Another stupid poem!

Taurus the walrus has a wealthy corpus in the bank of fungus
He's in love with Cheryl the gorgeous
Up to her, he approaches saying "Hello Miss!"
But she won't respond, no blushes
For she's a haughty one, one of the showbiz
After a fortnight of his broken-heartedness
Cheryl walks into a park and falls into a ditch
Taurus rescues her and soon after they lived with happiness

Monday, September 05, 2011

Sierra


Her eyelashes glittered in the rays of the sun
The eyes beneath danced with joy
She was the Chosen One.
To her, it was bestowed the power to fly alone.
For sixty-eight days she lived in the stratosphere
Ate a doughnut in the clouds she called her home
Not once she felt the desire to descent
Until now that is.
No longer did her cheeks flush with glee
Her eyes lay still and mouth numb
She longed for the life downstairs
Realization hit, it was always lonely at the top of the world.

Yellow Biksie


The wind is blowing the street light's glowing
The world is one, there's not another place you'd rather be from
Smile and sing to the trees and they'll forever prosper
Just like the elves do in Ellesmera
Text your "hello"'s to the Lebanese lesbians in Lisbon
Giggle out loud because your password rhymes with Zaphod Beeblebrox
Get yourself so startled that the words "Holey Haley!" just burst out of your mouth
Flirt with greasy Gracie and dream about her long legs
Encourage two-toothed Tilly; lead her on 'cause she's your only stalker!
And so what if this, while it started off as a poem, not any more sustains a decent tune!


The title, is the name of my newly formed 2-man band. Check it out here----> Yellow Biksie's Official Youtube Channel


Please like, share, rate, comment, subscribe, and spread the word if you love us, which you will. :)

Charlie!

Alexis and Ellis sat on the porch of Alexis' Trenchtree outhouse. It had been three and a half months since the sisters met and it didn't seem like it for they shared a close enough bond that even time or distance wasn't a hindrance. There had been a torrential downpour for the past week on the Eastern part of the town of Uhbridge but here on the West it was dry like a basement.
They had unfulfilled dreams, dreams that made them restless and nostalgic. Restless because a part of them felt like they could have been living different lives from what they chose. And nostalgic because of all the thorough plans they made at that very porch billions of years ago. Or so it felt.
But they were not bitter. The siblings were content with what they were and what lives they created. The husbands they chose, the children they nurtured and the love they spread.
So the sisters sat, both eating freshly plucked peaches from the peach tree in the yard. Alexis wore a purple coloured bonnet with a gummy bear exactly in the middle. Ellis, the older one, tied her hair in a neat bun with long, pink, demure hairpins.
Ellis had a throaty laugh, full of sensuality. She was all woman, with here small yet curvy figure, and ever so soft features. Alexis on the other hand was the handsome one, with a tall and slender frame. Nevertheless she was very pretty and had Light blue eyes that never stopped twinkling.
Alexis and Ellis had a dream the previous night and were currently having an animated discussion about it. They both dreamt about the same thing, rather, the same person. Charlie.
They did have amazing experiences because of the life they shared with Charlie. But the time for fun always has to end somewhere and that's when life happens. And it did.
Charlie used to be their boss. And they were Charlie's Angels!!!


And who is Charlie, you ask?
Yo but only the AWESOMEST KIDNEY-LESS FINGER-BITER MAN!!!

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Hijab Poem!


Woh hijabi hijdi
Khelti thi
Khilkhilati thi
Fakfafakkar roti thi
Uske ghane zulfe kabhi dikhai nahi dete
Kyunki woh hijab pehnti thi
Haaaaaaan
Par asal main woh andar se takli thi

Really Bad French Fries Craving Inspired Poem


I want it all the time
Oh french fries
You make me wild
I can smell the friedness of it
I can smell the accompanying dip
I want it all the time
Oh french fries!
Another prose written by me and Aditi:



In her eyes, lies her beauty
In her doing, lies her expertise
In her sun kissed complexion lies perfection
The ideal concubine; the ultimate fantasy
His royal finger glides down her dimpled face as they lie under the rickety fan
He plucks a cherry with his mouth from her lips
Her breath feels like waves against the sandy roughness of his stubble
Her foot moves in circles on his neck with each toenail
Calculating and moving expertly, sans the slippers
Bare; making crescents on his skin from which blood oozes
Darkness falls, but the two lie unperturbed
Then, he lightly treads over to intimacy,
Running his hand down her creamy back whilst she nonchalantly flips through the leaves of a book
The incandescence of her face; he likened to a pearl
Her constancy; to a lone wooden bench
And her seldom spoken soft words; to cascading musical gems
As she lay beside him, her eyes reflect the crystal chandelier overhead
It matters not how long they lie entwined
They listen to the hushed and excited baritones emanating from divine satisfaction
Which releases their imprisoned imagination from the shackles of their own worlds

Additional Quot-age


Familiarity breeds contempt.

Forbidden things have a secret charm.

If your world exists in just black or white, you can be sure that you got no grey matter.

Well done is better than well said.

Adversity introduces a man to himself.

If you meant anything to her she will come back. If you meant nothing to her she might come back. If you meant everything to her, she'll never come back. Unless you fight for her, that is.

He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.

Life has no meaning. Rather it is an opportunity to create meaning.

The thing about college is that everybody tries to look different but all they all end up looking the same.

Moral indignation is jealousy with a halo.

I got a discount when I went to the disco with the cunt.

Where there is shouting, there is no true knowledge.

Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.

Call someone a liar to see his truest side.

He closed his eyes and sank into the warm dusk that separates consciousness and sleep, where reality bends and sways to the wind of thought, and where creativity blossoms in it's freedom from boundaries and all things are possible.

Friday, August 05, 2011

The Number Song

We wrote this in class today, me and Aditi, inspired by Kimya Dawson's "Alphabutt."
It's fun making picture videos!

The Dream Spa

Today, while napping, I had a strange dream about this spa where you are completely inside a suit whose material is that of a tea bag's and you are to hold someone or something (I am not sure) on your back like you would a monkey/baby/monkey baby, basically kind of resemble the Ra'zac, but a pretty version of it, and stand in a tiny earth bucket thing which has some weird coloured apparently aromatic warm fluid and make Surya Namaskar kind of poses which is basically going up and down except in the dream you weren't supposed to lie down for that little second like you do in a Surya Namaskar but actually just bend down and back up with that weight on your back so it's barely anything like a Surya Namaskar which I could have easily not mentioned to avoid any confusion but I did and I don't want to backspace now because I am loving this whole no full-stop thing it is refreshingly different from how punctuated my writing normally is so anyway moving on, you do those bending postures for n number of times (I didn't count) and then on the last count, as you bend down, you have to remove the weight of your back using your hands and then rise up and the amount of relief you feel when you let go off that weight is so therapeutic that you feel not only physically light, but mentally too.


I thought this could be a good idea for a spa/healing place.

Monday, July 25, 2011

The Root of Beer [co-written by ADITI]


The bear and the boar
Danced all night 'round the fire
And the result was the birth of beer
The boar said, this is not my child liar!
The boar was sliced into two, the pain he could not bear
And all this while, Red Indians came along, and carried away the beer!

And then in the woods, the troubled bear
Went searching for the beer
But instead he found a seer
Who was only adorned in a lioncloth sheer
The seer conjured magic gear
His holiness realised on seeing the bear
The exact reason of his coming there

Meanwhile, the Indians lay at leisure at their lair
Inebriated, they played with each others' lice in their hair
The seer apparated from nowhere
Yelping, the Indians got such a scare
For the bear came too, and jumped towards all his beer

The Indians were overwhelmed with fear
But all the bear did was stand and jeer
With one skilled leap, he landed in the Indians jeep
And in a frenzy he tried to steer
His enclosure though was far from near
The Indians that followed with their spears
Invoked fear in the bear

Fleeing, the bear for victory was sure
But somehow one Indian did a spear bore
The seer, flying, whispered a spell and the wound did cure
More spells were yelled, the Indians gone, all but remained four
Beer in hand of the bear, for many years was this lore retold



Sunday, July 10, 2011

Sanyasi Kamneshwari

What you fear and what you want can never be the same. When you fear death, you don't want to die. When you want to die, there is no fear. There is also no fear when you are blindsided with courage. But that is another blog post for another time.

Maybe our spirit soul, the essence of what we are, wants only that which has, at some point been familiar with. When we want to gain sensual pleasures never experienced in this lifetime ever before, we do because there is a certain sense of familiarity that assures us into believing it is what we want.

How does fear of something change to want then? Does that happen when forces outside of us assure us into believing it's what we want? I don't know. There are only questions, unending, and aimless, rolling in the deep.

So does this made up theory imply that our soul, having gone through so much, already assumes what is good for us and lends us that familiarity in our gut that makes us believe in it so wholly?

This is toh, my made up theory. But in relation to this I recall another one that says that when we are conceived into the world, we know everything. And life is a just a beautiful process of unravelling; unlearning. That is very interesting. Maybe that would explain instincts and premonitions.

One should never try and predict the future. Whenever you do, you are making plans. Planning brings disappointment. But this isn't a universal rule. You can plan a career. You can't plan a LIFE. Don't say to yourself, "I will get married when I am 24 and have kids when I am 30 and retire when I am 50." Okay, you can plan retirement. But what if you get stood up at the altar, or your to-be husband dies, or, more realistically you don't find anyone worth marrying? What if you are told you are infertile, and can't adopt because you are declared unfit by all adoption agencies? So many what ifs, every step of the way. What ifs are bad too. Especially the negative ones like "What if I should get my grandma's cancer?" What ifs prepare you too on the other hand. Get yourself examined as you turn 20 and often after, and you can nip it in the bud.

I don't know how this had any relation to the main topic but I am in that mood of penning down thoughts of the day so excuse me, few loyal readers (of my preachy bullshit.)

Great night for shooting stars! I WILL try that one day.

Saturday, July 09, 2011

Of Paradoxes, Smashing into Walls, et al.

While in the bathroom today, I stumbled across an interesting paradox. It's believed that the best things in life happen unexpectedly.  Also, it's is generally believed that when you want to be happy and successful you should be positive about life. Negativity is thought to bring only sorrow and bitterness.


But here's the catch: doesn't being positive involve a positive frame of mind where everything that happens is in the hope and expectation of something good for your benefit? Of course it does. Then how, when you are being positive or hopeful about something, it doesn't happen? Why do these best things have to happen unexpectedly? I understand that this does not happen in every case and naturally being negative is bad. But sometimes when you least expect things to happen, they do, and then you somehow value it much more.


When we believe that when good things happen to us unexpectedly we assume somewhere in our heads that is has been engineered from out of our capability. Because even wishing or dreaming about good things makes us feel somewhat in control of our destiny. And when that happens, we embrace it and respect that good thing so wholeheartedly, because whenever in life we come across something that is not ours, we  tend to want it all the more.


But change, in this case is an opposing idea. When change, good or bad is enforced, we always shun it. Or maybe 90% of the time we do. Change is never fully welcome.


It's so surprising that I am writing now, at 8 am! Long gone are those deep revelations filled late nights. Hello strange new morning person! Blame it on my current routine! :/

Thoughtful Lines

The future is scary, but that doesn't mean you should run back to your past because it's familiar.

The worth of anything we do is in the act. Your worth halts when you surrender the will to change and experience life. But options are before you; choose one and dedicate yourself to it. The deeds will give you new hope and purpose. The only true guide is your heart. Nothing less than its supreme desire can help you.

A person's mind is his last sanctuary.

Many people have died for their beliefs, it's actually quite common.The real courage is in living and suffering for what you believe.

When you face choices in life just toss a coin. Not because it settles the question, but when the coin is in the air you'll know what your heart is hoping for.

Instinct is the nose of the mind.

All things are difficult before they are easy.

A man is as faithful as his options.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

The Lost Yard of Bluegrass Leaves

I could still see it in the map of my mind
There were big and great watermelons growing in the clouds
And when it rains, it seems like blood rain
Excepting the presence of seeds
I dug the ground and rescued the scarlet pink pixie
And found a world of mulberries 'neath
And then me and nephew John sat by the pier fishing for angry sharks
And popping them mulberries by the orange sunset
And then John gasped in horror
For we did not catch a shark
But a big and great green sea dragon
He was 85 feet wide
And 65 feet tall
And he looked at us and grinned
Flashing, surprisingly pearly white teeth
John approached and touched the dragon's tail
And POOF, the dragon disappeared into the maroon rain
Then we headed to the field of stones
And no longer did we see any bluegrass leaves
The blueness was dyed into the redness of the rain
And no longer the yard of blue leaves did remain
Heartbroken, nephew John and I went to our yellow cottage near the brook
I didn't prepare dinner so we restauranted it
Later Mike told me about the movie I wanted to see, "just torrent it!"
The disappointment I felt when the laptop wouldn't start up, was acute
The disappointment I felt was anything but obtuse

Everyone has a right to live. Should there also be a right to die?

The question cannot be answered directly with a yes or no as it is subjective to different cases. However, we can proceed to discuss it. To begin with, let us understand the concept of mercy killing or euthanasia. Derived from the Greek word "euthanatos", it stands for "good death"; which refers to the practice of ending a life in a painless manner. The term can be further classified into voluntary or involuntary euthanasia based on the consent of the person. Further, active euthanasia refers to death with legal injection and passive which means withdrawal of life support systems.

Let's now look at the history of mercy killing. In 1997, the state of Oregon (US), passed the "Death with Dignity" Act allowing patients to inject lethal injections themselves. And, in 2002 the Dutch Parliament became the first country to legalize euthanasia. However, euthanasia is still practised in countries depending on the circumstances leading to the request. In Columbia, doctors are not held responsible if, on request, they allow or practise euthanasia. In 2003, a 43 year old paralytic woman in the UK was granted "the right to die."

Here in India, euthanasia is illegal. Worse still, there is no debate about it nor is there any judicial exemption practised. However the new euthanasia case of Aruna Ramchandra, a rape victim, who has been in a vegetative state for the past 36 years, has been brought to the apex court for hearing. It is now time for India to open up euthanasia as a logical and reasonable solution in certain rare cases.

As far as ethics go, when life support systems used to lengthen the life span even in a hopeless case, isn't considered unethical, how does pulling the plug, when requested, become unethical and illegal?

24 year old Aruna Ramchandra used to work as a nurse in Mumbai's KEM hospital when she was strangulated with a dog chain and sodomized by a ward boy, leaving her dumb, blind and paralysed. While the rapist was let off with ONLY 7 years of imprisonment, the victim continues to live her life as a helpless vegetable.

Recently. Bollywood director Bhansali came out with the movie "Guzaarish" dealing with the sensitive subject of mercy killing. The film has paraplegic Ethan (played by Hrithik Roshan) who is rendered paralysed after an accident. While many who saw Guzaarish argued on the what and why of euthanasia, Ahmedabad based Ekta Raval, 20, knows exactly what the magician Ethan of Guzaarish feels about death. She has death staring in her face but nonetheless choose to live and live loud and live happy. Although she has had no control over her body below her neck for over the past 15 years thanks to the Guillain Barre Syndrome, she firmly believes that there's no point in meddling with God's pattern or his choice of a life for you.

Aruna's lawyer makes a strong point when he says, "Is not keeping a woman in persistent vegetative state by force feeding her for 36 years, violate her right to live with dignity, guaranteed by Article 21 - Right to Life of the Constitution?"

Summing up, while there are differing opinions about euthanasia, there are patients like Ekta, in contrast to Aruna who wishes to live her last days with full enthusiasm. Aruna on the other hand, happens to be an extreme case wherein euthanasia seems like the most feasible option. Although, legalizing euthanasia may not be the best idea as inheritance thirsty cold-blooded relatives can misuse the law as a weapon to conveniently cover-up murder. Finally, cases of euthanasia must be thoroughly investigated before being executed, even if the legalization were to take place.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

The really mango mango!

Today I ate a mango. An everyday thing to do when you are a mango addict living in Mumbai and the season for mangoes is fast fading. You'd think this would be a mindless activity, something you do while watching a stupid serial about perfect bahus. (well, atleast in my case) (I was bored.)

But, it wasn't. On the other hand, as dramatic as it may sound, this mundane act of eating a simple mango (actually it was pretty awesome) was a great philosophical epiphany for me.

When I was done with the fars(you won't understand these terms unless you are Sindhi), I moved on the the core. I got so into it I realised there was no mango left to eat. Scraped clean I got the idea to break it open. Something I vaguely remember doing when I was younger. Breaking it open was easy, as unlike alphonso mangoes the core of this mango variety was more open-able.

Opening it, I was presented with this huge, ugly, weird coloured seed. It was a dicot seed and when I saw it I felt like I already knew it was a dicot. But that wasn't the philosophical epiphany. That doesn't even make sense if it was. That would have been more like a past life mango grower's spiritual revelation.

Okay moving on, the SEED! I examined it, undressed it, opened it up and felt the smoothness of the individual cots and sat in awe at the beauty of it. The beauty in the ugliness. That was the first philosophical epiphany; there is a hidden beauty in all that comes off as ugly. Ugly rubber shoes that help you survive the floods on a rainy day, that's beauty. Ugliness of a storm is washed away by the cleanliness it brings.

The second philosophical epiphany (I love saying that even though an epiphany can't possibly be anything but philosophical), was that no matter how ugly the creator, the creation is always beautiful. The seed, man it looked ugly as hell, and not only that, it tasted bitter as hell too. (Yes I did take a bite, don't judge me.) That's when I pondered the irony of such an ugly-ass seed creating such an unbelievably sweet and fantastic fruit. Without seed there's no creation. And that's why no matter how great the creation, the creator is a 1000 times more abundantly great. Undoubtedly, you must have respect and admiration for the creator.

Yeah.

I love Phil from Modern Family. :D

Friday, June 03, 2011

"Gone With The Wind" inspired poem-ish thing.

The sound of the rain is so overwhelming
I feel like I could drown myself in the sound
Unseen, unheard, unspoken, and unknown
Tears and rain joining in a divine union
More rain, more tears, more heart
More soul with every drop falling to the Earth
Heart breaking with every heartbeat
Miles reducing with every heavy step of my feet
The world is drenched in water, water everywhere
Nothing but the sound, the beauty
The smell of the downpour
Nothing but the cold, the so very cold cold
97 days gone by without a single word
97 and more shall continue to pass still
They say silence speaks louder than words
I guess my silence wasn't loud enough
I am; what I am and nobody else
            who I am made out to be in your eyes
            who I am made out to be in my eyes
            whatever I want to be
            what I am in being what I can
            who I see, I am who I know, I am who I feel
            what I used to be, and what I never was
            who you knew, who you know,
            whom you never knew, whom you'll never know
I am this being, made up of my past, present, future.
I am also what I want to be, what I can be,
And what I am sure I will be
And the world is an unexplored, untouched place,
Ready to be learned, ready to be discovered,
A new place every single day
The learning, the growing will never stop
Nothing ever stops
This rain will stop and it will rain again
After all, tomorrow is another day
For now, I am going with the wind.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Nu Cotes


The only time you run out of chances is when you stop taking them.


It's fun to say not to be.


He who knows others is learned; he who knows himself is wise.


Evening news is where they begin with "Good evening", and then proceed to tell you why it isn't.


Work hard to get what you like otherwise you will be forced to like what you get.


When you are yearning for God it is almost inevitable that a God will present Himself in your spiritual path. But if you're yearning for something you don't know anything about yet except that it will cause you immense peace, then again it is inevitable that you will find something eventually that will grant you that peace. So it's all about how badly you're heart needs something. We make things up to make ourselves believe our idea of truth.


Better a lie which heals than a truth which wounds.


A life without a cause is a life without an effect.


Over time, not knowing, is way worse than a "no."


People tend to forget their duties but not their rights.


Every relationship needs work; the aim to a beautiful one is making the work feel effortless.


Don't be afraid of the space between your dreams and reality. If you can dream it, you can make it so.

Monday, May 16, 2011

YA


It's such a vastly cool summer
It's going to take more than splashing water to break my noonday slumber
You look smart and charming in a grey tux
My prom dress is still with the cleaners, shucks
This gregarious melody is driving me to an untouched state of mind
Six o' clock the clock just chimed
The redness of the sky at twilight is so pleasantly moving
I wait and listen to the sound of sunset, grooving
My green trousers enjoy the blueness of the waves, it enjoys getting wet
Meanwhile my heart wells up and I have tears choking up, pent up tears un-shed
It's dark now, the beauty of the day merging with darkness
Mellow is the feel of tonight inciting me to confess
There are bright cruel lights appearing now
And I just saw an abnormally fat indigo coloured cow
Tightly I close my eyes shut
Hoping to merge with darkness just like water and sherbet
Soon enough I am sure they will find me
For instead of black I wore fluorescent yellow at sea

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

The morbid Westlife inspired poem

It's hard to die when all the birds are singing in the sky
It's easier to dig your own grave when it's the sound of eternal silence that you crave
It's hard to drown in the deep blue sea when there are jumping dolphins that can set you free
It's easier to live in a dream when in reality you can't help but scream
It's hard not to crash when your driving is terribly rash
It's easier to pull the trigger when you don't have access to a razor
It's hard not to laugh when you see a purple giraffe
It's easier to allow the ropes to snap when you can't anymore bear to deal with crap
It's hard to not suffocate when your heart is full of angst and hate
It's easier to jump from a great height when there exists in you no longer the will to fight
It's hard to draw courage when you can't seem to locate a bridge
It's easier to let it all burn when you're sure you won't get what you yearn.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Something about the night that makes me write. Something about the night that feels so right.

You have to catch the thought before you let it disappear. Before you forget the idea, you must express it in some form before it's gone forever. Don't wait for your dreams to merge with your reality till it's true. You have to let yourself be who you want to. You have to do the things that make you happy. No one else can give you what you want better than you can. The more self-reliant you are, the more independent you'll be. And with independence comes self-confidence. And if others misconstrue that as selfishness, don't try and prove them otherwise, because nobody is worth that effort. You can't expect anybody to know you. And if someone finally does understand you, without your actions ever being justified, hold on to them. If they can see your strength, and respect you and love you for it, then that's just the multiplication of joy, not the addition of it, to your life.

Love and music makes my life beautiful. Music is love. Music is so powerful. I could literally sit here all night and listen to music.

Find that thing that makes life worth the while. Life is only short when you live it like that. Don't over stay, don't over think, don't over possess anything. Let it be. When things are left to be, they can grow uninterrupted. Don't ever attach yourself to anything external of you. Detachment brings clarity. Clarity is good, it's clear and beautiful. Life is actually VERY simple. One step at a time, everything comes, and then goes too.

Nothing is constant. That's how it should be, too. Appreciate all that's around you. It's all so good. We have life so good. It could be SO much worse, you know.

Let yourself breathe and feel alive in this moment. Dive into the ocean unclothed, the ocean in your imagination. Unleash what's hiding within. Let go of all your inhibitions. You can't and shouldn't hide yourself. Because the best person is not around you, it's within you. That person can heal you. That person is what you've always wanted to be.

Love life, it's shorter than you think. Love the people in it, the ones who've always been there. The ones who have at least tried to.

I love yellow sunflowers :)

Monday, April 11, 2011

The Babies' Got 'em Rabies

The poor boor and his whore
With her body all sore
He sat on the sea shore

And wondered what he wore
When he was at the moor
Boots, it was not he was sure

For he threw his only pair out the door
He had to, as he killed his last whore with it
Which caused a lot of gore

He needed to keep on killing to maintain score
And before murdering, their clothes he tore
It excited him otherwise it was a bore

The poor boor was sad now
A feeling he never felt before
And he realised he wanted to kill no more

He was in love now: for his new whore, affection pore
No matter she looked like a man, no matter she sometimes did roar!

Tuesday, April 05, 2011

The Harlem's Marmalade

प्रस्तुत कहानी के शीर्षक की सार्थकता absolutely अनुचित हैं|


The truck was cruising at speeds conceivable only to broad sighted men. Van Der Vaughn sat confident; his 200 pound behind placed comfortably on the custom-made seat, howling enthusiastically along to Motown his woman Pam picked out especially for this road trip. Countless old country traffic signals were being passed with not so much of a look of acknowledgment.


Van Der Vaughn had been looking forward for this one journey for twenty five years of the grand enigma that was his life. He didn't come from an easy childhood. His mother was a rag-picker, and he had no father nor any siblings. He was twelve and a half when his mother hanged herself in the Holly Hood's motel. He was put under the care of his Uncle Jim who was a drug dealer cum drunkard. Van worked at a convenience store and did odd jobs for his Uncle's "friends" to put himself through high school. And then, Uncle Jim died. Thereafter, with the help of his Uncle's "friends" he started his own business.


Pam had golden brown hair that looked like the sun at the time it seems to be fading away after a long day of some particularly stressful light-giving. Her eyes were forever on fire. Ablaze with a light so indescribably delightful it cannot be truly expressed in words. That's what he saw in her first. She was wearing her red-yellow uniform waiting on tables at the Sunny Shack, when he walked in one sultry afternoon, cowboy hat in tow, demanding for some just-out flapjacks in that Southern drawl that she always found so charming. He was in haste, like always, always on the ready to reach someplace, do whatever it was that seemed so important. He was the kind of man who never gave attention to details. He wanted results, quick, without any questions asked.


That's why when Pam brought him his pancakes, sans maple syrup, he was surprised to hear himself rebuke the young waitress instantly. She timidly ran in to fetch the jar of syrup, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and reproaching herself for allowing her emotional status to overshadow her work. He sat there at the crowded Shack, feeling a slight sense of regret and unease. However, he knew not whether it was because he indirectly caused himself to waste time merely for syrup; or because of the look of such utter despair he happened to glance at in that young waitress' big beautiful distracted green eyes.


Pam Aldridge had lived a long life. Although she was only eighteen, she felt worn out, old and tired. She was the kind of person that wore her emotions on her sleeve. When she was fifteen, her boyfriend Zack impregnated her and then moved away with his family before she even knew she had a baby in her womb. She had foster parents, as her mother died in childbirth and her father, she never heard of or ever saw. Pam had to drop out of high school because her parents couldn't bear the humiliation, conservative as they were old, of their daughter showing up with a huge belly to school. Plus, she couldn't bear to lose the child growing within her, for she never felt close to anything like she felt now towards her unborn baby.


With a baby on the way, she had little else to do but try and reach Zack. When she realised it was a futile effort, she tried to redirect all the unrequited love she felt for him towards his creation. She read a lot on to-be mothers and motherhood and resolved that she would be the best mother to her baby.


When Addison turned two years old, Pam's foster parents met with a massive car accident. All their assets including her house had to be dissolved as it was discovered then, that her father, Gerald owed the Government a lot of money as he had been evading taxes for thirteen years. So Pam had no home, she stayed with her best friend and confidant Aunt Peyton for a few months before she became her paying roommate. Aunt Peyton was 50 years old, she was a childless spinster and was only glad to have the company of a baby in the house and such a great daughter in Pam. It was around that time that Pam started working with the Shack.


Coming back to the scene at the Shack, now. The reason Pam was so disturbed was because Aunt Peyton had just been diagnosed with a rare heart condition. She would have to be admitted to a hospital very soon. She was worried because Auntie was old and had limited financial provisions. Pam owed her enough to support her in such hard times and thus her mind was plagued with this issue as she didn't have any savings and her income was too measly to support her small family alone. Presently, she hurried back to Van's table, placing the jar of syrup noiselessly onto it, murmuring a brief and distracted "sorry about that."


Van Der Vaughn finished his flapjacks in record time, climbed into his truck and sped away only to return again the next morning. Pam wasn't there and it bugged him and he knew not whether he was bugged because she wasn't there or because he was wondering why she wasn't there. Just when he was about to leave, his morning hunger thus satiated, he saw her attending to a small family over the last table. She glanced at him and Van felt lost and funny in his head. Fumbling, he exited the Shack and drove away.


Van became a regular at the Sunny Shack. On days when he was out of town on work, it would bug Pam as she wondered why he didn't come. One day he walked in late, just before closing time, and went straight up to Pam who sat behind the counter looking dazed. He caught her off guard with his merry exclamation of "Howdy miss!" She was so taken aback with the suddenness of his presence that her heart jumped and she cried "Oh my, you frightened me!"


Next thing you know, Pam and Van started going out. One thing led to another and within eight months they wed in court. Three weeks into their marriage Aunt Peyton, who had been in the hospital for a couple of months, suffered a massive heart attack that proved to be fatal. Addison, now four, was very sad that Big Mommy(Aunt Peyton) had gone for a long holiday in heaven. After a year Pam gave birth to Addison's younger brother Charlie. And so they lived a happy family life.


Back to Van Der Vaughn eleven years on, in his truck. He stopped at a gas station just outside a small town called Rewemtry. He bought himself a can of ginger beer and filled his car with diesel for the long ride back home. His visit here would be short, but the most fulfilling; he knew this.


Forty-five minutes later, he was 3,500 feet up in the air. Rewemtry was known for having the only private skydiving school in all of the State of Wesberry. Before leaping out of the mini air craft, the words of his mother rang in his head, "I wish I could fly. You know, then life would be so... sublime." As he jumped he yelled for joy, "I'm flying Ma, I'm flying for you!"


He felt the wind, sharper then ever, hit the cheeks of his face. He felt a profound sense of euphoria. Then his instructor, Leonard, suddenly exclaimed with extreme alarm that the chute was jammed and could not open. Van Der Vaughn was oblivious to his claim as he was in a world far above from this one by now. It didn't take long before they hit the ground: Van face first. The crash was so instant that he died from impact. Leonard was overwhelmed with grief at what happened. He survived with only a concussion to his head as injury.


Two years on Pam married the neighbouring widower Gareth and went on to make twins with him in the following years. The sense of loss of Van still prevailed in the hearts of his family. The only consolation was that they were sure he went after experiencing all he craved to experience. He didn't even feel death: he was in such escalated ecstasy.