Thursday, September 25, 2008

Aaand its deja vu!

Last year, last year's creative writing competition. This.
This year, this year's creative writing competition. This.


[in the opinion of a few honourable gentlemen]

'There's a hole in my bucket,
Eliza, a hole..'
A child singing his rhyme
could take its toll.
The noble young 'un
With a heart of gold;
Of environ consciousness
In school, would've been told.
Precious water would go waste
Flowing through the hole;
Paining our noble,
aggrieved young soul.
To the town mayor
He would scurry;
[Trying times like this
Necessitated hurry]
The mayor would look,
solemnly; and say,
"I see but
no other way.
A problem so serious
Needs more power.
I shall make calls,
Wide and far."
The environment minister
At once would be called;
He'd look at the bucket
Stricken, appalled.
"The bucket makers
Should die of shame,
Of so sacrilegious a sin
They are to blame!"
A committee would be formed,
A panel laid;
To see if the bucket
Would make life fade.
The learned chairman
Would adjust his glasses,
Cough, and be ready
To face the masses.
"This bucket here
Doth proclaim :
Repercussions for which
We have no name.
The aqua would flow through
And be wasted;
People would die
H2O untasted.
Dehydration would take
Further lives:
Men and women
Husbands and wives;
Producers would die
Supply would fall;
[The author has economic knowledge,
however small.]
With no food to eat
We'd be dead meat;
Scavengers would abound
Rise and soar,
The black eagle would burp
Having had bodies four.
A gurgling in its stomach
Would put it ill at ease,
For it would develop
A weird sounding stomach disease.
Flowers would wither,
Plants die;
No life on earth,
My, oh my.
This is true people,
fear oh fear!
Armageddon beckons,

Apocalypse nears!
The world is in danger,
Do well to worry:
Live your dreams,
Dude! Scurry!
The earth will soon be dead;
Drenched in streams of red.
But remember this mortals,
I, first this, foretold,
So when you make money on your bets
I want commission in gold."

Er, yeah. So I suck at rhyming. And I digress. :P

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Five blasts.
All markets.
One fifteen minutes away from home.
Another I would have been at right now.
What is the world coming to?

Hope you're all fine.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Dilli - Ahmedabad

[Just found something in my drafts. Iono, but it makes me cringe. Cribfest.]
[PS. Exams. =( ]

23rd April, oh eight.

8:oo PM
Bon voyage. Train leaves.
15 relatives, one fourteen hour journey.

8:3o PM
Honestly, I have a name and it is NOT gudiya.

9:3o PM

Yellow Dal that has, due to space constraints obviously, been compressed into a thick block of yellow blubbery glue.

11:3o PM
The Indian National Railways need one thing, and fast : separate snorer bogeys. Try sleeping while five people snore in tuneless harmony around you, Mr. Laloo Prasad Yadav. Hmph.

24th April, oh eight
oo:3o AM

Though Ambar makes for great listening on sleepless train journeys with the A/C chilling you from the outside and the lyrics warming you in a snuggle inside. Mmm.

Also blocks out snores.

6:3o AM
Waking up to the sounds of "Itni Shakti Humain Dena Daata" on the train's local radio network can only be labelled interesting.

6:45 AM
Railway toilets are creepy. Do not, do NOT look down, not even for a peep.

7:oo AM
Turns out I missed on the most important events of the night : one of the 15 odd relatives sleepwalking to the toilet in the night, someone's foot hitting someone on the head, and someone needing a different berth since he was too, er.. girthly to fit in the middle one.
Ello. The Great Indian Dysfunctional Family welcomes you.

9:3o AM
Sleepwalking ancient uncle, who has more teeth missing than present, gets a call from some random girl. A simpery voice is heard.
"I like music, and I love singing! Could we meet?"

9:45 AM
Standing at the bogey door, waving at kids working on the platform tracks and taking photographs, when the TC comes and says, "Ah, so you are doing photography? Bhook hartal people, no?" Okay, so they hadn't served dinner until 10 yesterday night, and I'd jokingly said it was a forced bhook hartal, and I'd put up a dharna in the corridor, which he managed to overhear. I grin at him, and nod quickly.

1o:3o AM
We're here!
And its HOT.

1o:31 AM
Aaand we've been rechristened, folks.
The name's ben, Vasuben.


Blog Template by