fool speaks

Because you have to say something

Sniff Sniff

Time has come.

We were waiting for it desperately and now the wait is over. So are the days with scorching sun and burning rays.

It’s monsoon, fellas. Hurrah!

Summer’s over, rain’s everywhere, cooling the heat vomiting earth and our nearly melting bodies.

You can smell pakodas and chai and smoked corn and umbrellas and ugly long raincoats around. You can also smell a bunch of lazy people who finally got an excuse for not going to work and not taking bath.

But you can withstand all such smell. I mean it’s just food or people. We love such smell. I mean scientists say that women choose men from smelling their sweat. They say it has something to do with pheromones we release from our bodies. Oh man, I am not going to smell any woman’s underarms just to know if we are compatible or not.

People say rains are romantic and one can smell love. I say, here it’s all about waterlogged streets and the sweet smell of shit swimming out of the runnels. Fortunately most of us have roof above our heads and walls around to save ourselves from this apocalypse.

I and my friends live in a small rented house. Rainy weather allows us to work from home, preventing us from stepping on dissolving shit. Downpours barely affect our routine and we do our chores like we always do.

The most grueling thing to do in our lives is to wash clothes. I guess it stands true with most bachelors. So we do it with utmost superficial cry on our faces. Next is to hang it under the bright sun let the clothes dry. But hello, it’s raining outside. So we put the wet clothes on every corner and every edge of our house. It looks like a dhobighat.

Try doing it and die. I mean it is not about the room which becomes hot and humid. We can endure it. The show begins with the inexplicably peculiar smell of wet clothes that repels all the fresh air coming in through the windows. Even the best sniffers would fail in telling what kind of smell is it. But I know it’s stinky and suffocating. Naphthalene balls wouldn’t work. Our expensive deodorants lose miserably. And the jasmine scented room freshener is even worse than the smell of wet clothes.

What is to be done? We plan to go to our friends’ home and a similar situation exists there too. Moreover who wants to step out? Just suffocate and die. I think even the dead would despise the smell of wet cloth.

So we tie masks on our faces and looks like a bunch of swine flu patients. Our house stink so much that even MERS and EBOLA virus combined would die here. Even noseless Voldemort would try putting a mask on.

So please visit our house if you are planning a suicide.

Sniff Sniff.

I am blogging for #SmellyToSmiley activity at in association with Ambi Pur




This is a fiction.

“Really Seher (name changed)?” I cried.

It was terrible to ask if it happened really or not. I almost felt her irregularly heavy respiration. Even if I want, I will never forget the intensity of sorrow in her eyes. Nonetheless I do not want to forget it. It is our struggle we keep inside that gives us a driving force to create a better life.

I was astonished by every word she kept uttering to me. I wondered how she can reveal everything. The facts were totally personal and disturbing. May be it was trust. Trust that takes us forward in our lives. Trust that is created after many crucial judgements and tests. Trust when broken, shatters the surface of life.

“I was helpless there. The strength in my cold arms could never match those well built biceps,” Seher spitted bubbles of anger filled with truth. “I loved it. I mean any girl would love it. Those full muscles adding to masculinity is tremendously seductive,” she continued the story.

“Stop it girl. You’re done with it now. Don’t go back and scratch the wounds,” I tried to distract her. “The only thing you’ll get is more pain.”

But she didn’t stop and spewed out everything that happened with her that day. The day when she didn’t received my calls and I felt very angry that I crashed her home only to find her room locked from inside. Her mother knew nothing about it. Me neither, at that time.

But now as I know her story I wonder what if it didn’t happened. May be Seher would be the girl I knew before the incident. A girl with a heart as soft as a hospital pillow. Now, there’s another Seher inside that tells her again and again not to trust anybody. Not even me. And when this Seher looks at me, it hurts.

But I am stealing her story. Not to the details or full script but few parts that would help all of us in becoming an aware and responsive individual.

When she told me she was in love, she was as happy as I was sad. Full-on. It was as hard as to digest the 8th peg of whisky in the name of challenge. You know you’ll vomit anyway.

Seher was in love. I was like a crashed airplane. No I do not love her. It’s just that I couldn’t imagine Seher with anybody else than me. And I feel bad to share her.  Even the thought of somebody coming closer to her than me gave me goose bumps. I am just like this. Insanely mad and jealous type.

I was very much lost in a mindless anger that I didn’t even cared about her life and relationship with Dhruv (name changed). He was a dude. Seher’s a sweetheart. It was easy for them to fall in love. Well, this is what Seher said to me. I viewed it exactly opposite with a boy’s mind. My reaction didn’t complimented Seher’s but burned it. She understood.

But our story has no significance in the coming part that Seher told me face to face. It was a moment when I found Seher closest to me and her story made me feel like snakes crawling on the chest. It was a realization that wasn’t unknown to me but when happened with somebody I love, shaken my conscience.

“I am never this sad. You know me right,” Seher convinced me majorly because of the depth of her voice more than the words she used. “I can never imagine how many masks you all wear”. She added.

“All of us wear masks. And why are you including me in your story,” I shouted on her even when I knew that she was very upset. I was angry on everything including her, Dhruv and everything else.

Love blindfolds. There’s no mask in this because there are no eyes. Seher was absorbed in the manly energy of Dhruv. And there was this phone call by Dhruv to Seher.

“He said we’ll watch Gone with the wind together. I couldn’t resist the temptation to watch a romance with him and so I went straight to his house. I’d never expected that it will turn out this bad,” Seher started the story. She looked as if she had used wrath as make-up. May be she have to spit everything out in order to soothe the pain.

“It’s was just a bad day Seher, I mean it should not have happened I know. But stop blaming yourself for it ok,” I consoled her in vain. It was stupid to say it a bad day instead of understanding what she actually felt about it. I’d never imagined how it feels when trust is broken and more importantly when somebody you love tries to perform really unpredictable, unjustified and monstrous action upon you.

“Shut up. You should be a woman to understand what it feels when somebody throws its lust over you. I just went to his place for the movie and thought it would be nice and sweet. We kissed and no I do not feel like having more than that but Dhruv was unstoppable, forcing her arms on my breasts. I couldn’t stop him. He might have been turned on but what about me? Am I just a fucking sex toy?” Seher released her story on me. I was ruptured.

I was shocked. I knew it happens with boys when they get aroused. But it was Seher and I can’t see her on the weak side. I didn’t want to believe that Seher was a victim. But she is.

“He actually pulled my brassiere and nearly ripped it. Men can be hyper I know but I was not his mistress to accept whatever he does. How could he even try to do that to me? What about that bullshit love he used to speak of? And what about my love that was breaking part by part, falling in pieces one by one every time he tried to touch the shivering skin under my clothes,” Seher opened the curtains from the facts that burned my ears. It happens when you hear dreadful stories from your loved ones. Their ache becomes your ache. “The situation was no more mind-driven and the energies in both of our bodies were rapidly on rise. He almost captured my body and I resisted and quivered exactly like a fish does when taken out of water. Was it my luck that I found a metal candle holder at the right time? I used it to hit on the back of his head. Twice, thrice on everywhere my hand could have reached added with a rush of adrenalin, I was able to bring him back to his normal state of mind. And then he acted as if nothing happened followed with sorry. I gave him a tight slap on his cheek and left his house.”

There was a long pause. I didn’t speak anything. I just wished she had Smart Suraksha with her. So somebody could have reached there at that moment.  It was her will however that saved her fortunately.

What if there was no candle holder? And what about the after effects? Who is going to believe if she is saying the truth? It is Seher who went to Dhruv’s room, now whose mistake is it? Where is the proof of attempt? What if she had this smart app that could notify few of us and even police in such situation? Wouldn’t it be much better and lifesaver?

But now I wonder what about her who will always stay trapped in fear. Would she extend her arms ever to meet mine? Does her heart still beat as loud as it used to?

“Kya tum ek baar phir se aaoge
Usi muskurahat ke saath”

For Seher

The same happens with countless women. Some are fortunate to save themselves and some are not. Do we still have to say it a fiction?

I am participating in the Seeking Smart Suraksha contest at in association with Smart Suraksha App.

Greed, love and happiness: An unbreakable nexus

Does human greed for love is natural? Does greed has any limits? How much love do we need to feel satisfied with life? Even if we have love, why do we want more of it? Why we want people to love us? Why others have an effect on us? What can we do to rise above all of it? Is there any way or the questions will remain questions?

Everyone is different. Either they are happy or sad. There is no mid-way. But one thing is common in all living beings. We all need love to live and without it we will be destroyed. But this is not our fault. From the beginning of our lives, we have been made addictive to it by our mothers or fathers. When we grow up and leave our homes, the love which we used to get cannot be felt. The love always prevails but not the presence of the people. Presence gives you the feeling of love. From distance, it’s hard to feel it the same way. This compels us to find a new love. Few are lucky. Things come to them. Others have to keep their eyes and heart open. Their path is struggling.

The new love can be anything. Work, people, food, pets, accessories, travelling, anything. But out of all these, the love of a human is the need of all soul. Because they give us a reaction. Other non living things will never touch you. Only humans can touch you and make your breath heavy. So we walk in search of a stranger with whom we can fall in love. Feelings of lovelessness are strong at this time. Many were heartbroken. But those who succeed in their motive become happy. Sometimes love is a total cosmic and unreal process. It just happens. This is good. We flow like the wind endlessly and we love every moment of it. But the pain of separation will not spare you. It will come and kill you. The people who have been spared are the fortunate ones.

Let me change the point here and come to our lives. We live in a time when the feeling of gratitude rarely comes in our mind. May be that’s why every other self help book says it loud to feel the gratitude. Why can’t we feel it? Are we hollow from the inside? Long before our ancestors have given a beautiful piece of advice to stay happy with what we have. But we are humans who have the curse to think. Thinking fuels yearning. A yearning desire to obtain more. May be what we have inside us will never make us happy. We really want some more. This is greed. Here again the people are divided into two classes. First who have the greed of power and money and secondly, who have the greed of love. But the ultimate of goal of both of these sections of people is the same. They both want to reach above the clouds where happiness exists. The struggle of life is to attain happiness. This way or that way, without happiness, we are broken into pieces.

But does happiness is similar to truth that is always searched? Why do they say that it comes from within? Does anything come from within? Questions again! Well if we were alone in this universe then we should have brought the happiness from inside. But we live in a society. We live with people. We see people. We can never ignore them. Anyway they will affect you in as positive or negative way. Everything around us has an impact on us. Everything in this world is connected with imaginary strings that were tensioned. You cannot run from them. You have to face them, love them, hate them and accept them. Most of the happiness is a result of events that happen in our lives. And events consist of people. People who can make us happy or sad. But we always want to choose the first option. No matter how much a person will say that he/she is happy being sad but from the inside happiness is always longed, always searched. For these people, happiness means a lot. But leave them; they are very less in number.

Let’s come to general psychology of our mind that desires for more love. It comes from insecurity we develop over the course of our life. We feel that people will leave us behind, taking all the love. We want them to like us more than others. That way we will be loved and happiness will be showered. There’s no doubt that it’s for short term but even the smallest of happiness matters to us, doesn’t it? In the above paragraphs we have understood how people around us affect us to the core and we cannot escape their action and criticism. This way, getting loved by them affects us in a positive way and release the energy that makes us happy. Any disturbance frightens us and fuels the greed. A greed that will never weaken. A greed that keeps on opening its mouth. There is no limit to it. And there is no measurement of love such that we can tell how much we want to make ourselves satisfied. May be we will always long for more love and that is why we become promiscuous. And the people for whom even the smallest particle of love is enough, happiness is at their door.  While others, including me, the stupid lesser mortals will be greedy always unless we go through a series of enlightenment. Otherwise all the anger with our greed that is not fulfilled will pile up and destroy us. We will end due to our greed. The question that how can we rise above it will still remain a question.

Sleepless nights with words: A quest to find what matters to us

Out of many sleepless nights, I know only few will matter. Rest will stay with me. They are for me and my little happiness.

Out of many words I’ve written, most of them are for you. But the one’s that’s left are mine. They will dissolve in my blood like sugar and make me happy.

Out of many dreams I’ve seen, only few will become reality. Rest will be wasted. So I thought, why not laugh at them and be happy for few moments?

Out of many steps I’ve taken, only few were the careful and clean ones. While others were on mud and mostly spoiled my feet. These carefree and dirty ones bring the childhood back into my eyes. All those muck-play was flashed unstoppable. It makes me incredibly happy.

I am not enlightened. I am not a saint. I am not a man with wisdom. I am just another man lost in the crowd with no face. I may not have the answers to your questions. I may not have the capabilities that will separate me from the crowd. But I know one thing which you may or may not know.

I know what matters the most to me. I know what makes me alive. It’s happiness. It is the mixture of many things but all of these lead to only one thing that matters to me the most: true happiness.

I believe my thought is no different than others. I think this is what matters to all of us. It is a human conquest to reach the state of happiness. Anything we do in our lives, all the purpose we build in our minds, all the roads we take is consciously, subconsciously or unconsciously to pursue happiness. It’s a religion that unites us. A fundamental need of all human beings to make life beautiful.

Every action, good or bad, sane or insane, has its purpose. The purpose is born to make us happier. Whatever we do in our lives is to be happy. Sometimes we get distracted and choose the wrong path where action doesn’t bring happiness. This path is dark and ruthless. Taking the right turn is necessary here. Otherwise it will kill us. It will make us a zombie.

Finding what matters for you the most is not a very difficult task. You just need to listen to your inner voice. Whatever you choose, the ultimate reason of choosing it will be based on the happiness it will deliver. If something will make you happy, obviously you’ll love it and choose it. Who wants to be sad? Nobody! Even if there are few people who loves being sad because it gives them happiness. We are all similar when it comes to our ultimate purpose. It’s always to be happy.

All my passion, love and interests stay with me untouched by external calamities because I keep safe within me. There is only one reason to keep them safe. They all make me happy. They all burn me altogether so I can shine happily like a diamond. It’s two-thirty in the night and I am still awake to write this because as the ink of my pen continues to create words, happiness keeps coming to me. How can I miss this happiness and sleep?  Sleep is boring. I wish I could erase the sleeping part from my life.

If now we believe that what matters to all of us is happiness then we should all believe that there are three ingredients that lead us to happiness viz. passion, love and interests. These three things make us. They let us feel our existence. They remark that we are Homo sapiens who lead a life of purpose. They don’t let us sleep until we are satisfied and happy.

I write endlessly in nights because that’s when I get time to write. The days are mostly wasted in making someone else’s dreams. Nights are for my dreams. Nights are my genie that grants me my happy writing time when everyone’s asleep and I can cherish the silence of earth. But I don’t let sleep touch me. I am full of fire now and keep burning until I attain true happiness, until I fulfill my passion of writing.

But there are nights when I don’t feel enough passion. I feel love. I remember everyone I love. My mother and this girl I love. Both of them make me happy unconditionally. Both of them love me without any sense of selfishness. I reminisce the past and dream of future with them. I remember all the love they have showered upon me. It makes me happy. Love fills the world with happiness. And the lonely night just passes.

What matters to me and all of us is always happiness and the struggle to find it. The spiritual masters might say that the true happiness comes from within. But I think it’s a long journey to extract it from the core of our soul. Happiness comes in parts. Then only it has value. Perpetual happiness exists or not, I don’t know. But when it comes to us after a tough journey, we feel good and love life.

But there is one serious glitch in the whole idea. We usually do whatever possible to achieve happiness. But in the journey we often get blinded and forget to think about the happiness of our contemporaries. What we need to do is to produce mutual happiness and eradicate the selfish acts that bring happiness at the cost of others. By that way happiness will climb up to a new high.  

All that matters is happiness. For you, for me, for all of us.

Happy sleepless nights!

This post is written as a part of ‘All that Matters’ contest at in association with INK Talks 2013.


Taking issues #1: An angry question mark on rape

The chain of barbaric sexual acts performed by men on women is getting longer and thicker. The continued and unstoppable crime of rape in India seems to be unaffected, no matter how much the power of feminism and righteousness is expressed. The burning anger on the streets that include both men and women protesting against the powerless and corrupt law (that includes mostly policemen) responsible for rising number of harassment, molestation, assault and rape cases of woman seems ineffective, as the pages of newspapers are filled with similar kind of news of destruction of women’s honour and dignity (majorly through sexual act) everyday. Recently India has witnessed a furore of protests (both angered and silent) and candlelight vigils by the people who are distressed by this continual brutality. Women, girls and infants of even 3 year old are getting raped and murdered. This is a situation of crisis.  Contemplation of many sorts to save our women, leading to myriad questions: Will the chain continue to grow? Why India is one of the leading producers of rapists? Will sex education work? Do we foresee feminist movements here or feminism in India is constrained to carry out protest only against gender crime?  Rape is a result of patriarchy or is it something else? Will men continue to see women as an object of satisfaction or grow out of this sickness? Can we expect a full stop to this atrocity in the future? Will the chain ever break?

The birth of a rapist and rape

Men have high sexual urge. But rape is not just a result of this urge. It has something to do with psyche or rather disturbed psyche. Deprivation of sex is one possible factor that leads to this act but then why countless people who are married or in some relationship that gives them the pleasure of having sex commit rape? This is a serious mental problem coupled with physical urges. However no mental craziness is witnessed in most of the rapists (only in few serial killers or rapists, a peculiar kind of craziness and psychological disorder is found). The why do men rape?

There is one possible answer for this question: The rapist’s mind is deeply instilled with the thought that he could satisfy his lust by using the women’s body, raping her and getting away with it. Many people know this fact that due to ineffectiveness of our judiciary/law enforcement system, rapists thinks that they will easily escape the crime and at times they kill the girl so that she will be not there to utter a single word and find the convict. How ruthless is it! But this happens all the time, everywhere in the world. So is it the system that gives a rapist the courage to do anything with a women’s body illegitimately? To beat, assault, rape and murder a woman is not an act that happens just because of system inefficiency but because of wrongly assuming superiority over the womankind, utilizing the dark power of patriarch ideology and lack of education. All these factors with lust for women’s body boost the will to perform the heinous act of rape.

Why India is infected with rapes and what might be the real possible solution for its annihilation?

The idea of patriarchy is deep rooted in our country. A child grows up looking the father as the head of the family. It doesn’t matter how much love the mother gives, the father remains the leader and somebody with the power. Feminism movements may have generated the electricity of equality in our minds but how far is it seeped in? Sometimes everything ends up in the minds of people who are aware and educated. But what about those who have never thought about this equality and never seen any such scene where women are doing as much as men and getting the same respect? Somebody (boy) who has seen a man leading and ruling the house (and the woman of house) all over his life will naturally develop the attitude of considering himself powerful than women and when this idea clicks the fact of doing anything with women’s body, rape is the result. Not respecting women, assuming that a man can use his physical energy to make a woman submit her body, confidence of escaping from law, threatening the woman to harm her if she reveals anything, murdering in extreme cases is a hard thing to digest but prevalent in our society, deep rooted like the thoughts that we develop by our experiences, hard rooted like the formulas that we can never forget. And sometime there’s a feeling knocking from inside that apart from protest and writing articles like this one, what else can we do? Even if we make our laws stringent and generate fear in the minds of such kinds of people (prospective rapists), will the chain break? May be the strict laws, powerful enforcement and effective monitoring (through CCTV’s) would help in decreasing the number but is that our main point of discussion? Don’t you think it should be about having respect for women? Can law help in obtaining this respect? The killer answer is that the law might miss but once a man understands the value of respecting a woman, when he learn about equality in the society and the value a woman hold in our lives then only true sun will rise.  The halo will appear.

Will sex education work?

Education is always the carrier of civilization. Through education comes morality. It always helped generations from generations to elevate the situation and become better. India has done enormously to lift its education system and has reached a satisfactory position. But why not it is able to establish a course of sex education? And will it help in reducing rapes? Yes it will of course help as it deals not only with anatomy and reproduction but also with emotional relations between a man and a woman, reproductive rights and responsibilities and other aspects of sexual behavior. It is shocking that the subject is still unacceptable in our society. It is neither taught in home nor in the schools and the only way to learn it is always pornography. However pornography only teaches half of it and may master you to till the physical level but there is no emotional understanding or learning. Only through proper sex education we can overcome this lacking. There is nothing like shame in teaching or learning it publicly. Why don’t we accept the fact that it’s high time and still we have not opened ourselves to accept sex education?

The role of women

The violence and gender crime against women had caused volcanic eruption in the hearts. Women have protested in all possible forms. The formation of feminist groups and the conduct of marches and protests are witnessed. How much it had affected the surface of trouble? Still remains a question. It’s always hard for an intellectual discussion (which is predominant as a part of feminism) on any struggling situation to pierce the sheet and touch the grassroots from where nuisance-makers evolve. So what can be the most effective contribution women can provide in the movement against the gender crime?

One of the best things women can do is to teach their children about the value a woman hold in the society and why they should be treated equally to its counterpart and respectfully. Possibly those boys who have gained these kind of valuable moral teaching early in their life from their mothers might never misbehave with any woman.

They can also uplift the way society portrays them. The knot must be untied that a woman in short clothes is bad and inviting. Transformation when it comes to thinking or changing an already molded ideology is a tough nut to crack but we can always try our best if the transformation is for betterment.


Learning defensive art (which is good) or arming with weapons like deodorants might be suggested from several organizations (specifically governmental) but that’s not what we want. We want independence from fear. At some point protection is necessary till a certain level but that will be like a mosquito coil kind of stuff. We need DDT for this. We need complete eradication.

It is understandable that it’s not an overnight magic but we can at least expect a downfall in numerical values. We can always hope of the day when there would be no rape. Till then we wish that the politico-blabbermouth will stop commenting about the girl’s clothing, western ideologies and chowmein. Bullshit to claim them responsible for rape. Only men and their sick brains must be blamed for this. Insolent, shameless, men. 


I need time (If you have an extra one then please lend me)

Blogging needs thinking. Thinking needs time. Even if there are bits of creative ideas that flash in the inner eye at any absurd time, it is still necessary to give it a makeover. The molecules of ideas must be fused to present an element. And for us, writers, the molecules in the form of letters must come out. Otherwise it will explode inside, frustrating us, saddening us. It must come out, making us happy. That is why we write, we blog. But it takes time to create the whole painting. Blogging need time. And time is always crucial, compelling us to flow with it. For me, the fixed hours are not enough. I need extra time to think more, to blog more, to write more. I wish I could take a break from sleeping. I waste a lot of time.

Time is…
Time was…
Time will never be enough


Signing off

Getting started with issues

Issues surround us, grip us and it’s tough to escape from it silently and unaffectedly. We have to face them, speak out for/against them and if possible doing something would be the best solution. Issues might be of any kind, any form, political or economical, saddening or revolutionary, they run the country. They may plague the air but kindles a fire inside us to fight. They make us strong and brave. They build us.

Hereon I would be covering major issues that affect us and compel us to ponder. After-all, ideas and solutions come from meditation and discussion. And of course from reading and writing.

Signing off


The first one

When you fail, you start fresh again. My first blog ( was an absolute failure, a disaster, a result of my negligence. I really lacked attention on it and in few articles the blog went into the state of oblivion and almost obliterated. I can give lame reasons for not blogging like I have been indulged in work so much or my laptop’s keyboard is totally spoiled (which is btw true) but that would hurt the writer in me that always aspires to write endlessly. I was careless for blogging and I failed. But you can always start again. So I am.

This would be my new blog:  A platform to share my ideas with the universe (well nothing lateral than other blogs) and an urge to bring out my views and shape them into words. The touch of my fingers on the keyboard will make my blog different than others. That touch makes every blog differ from others. Every blog has its voice. I hope mine will have too. A voice that can generate emotions is always the loudest. My blog will try to bang bang!

Signing off