Mansi's Birthday!

I walked, I stumbled.
Questioned, blamed myself now full of guile.

Heart took the road less travelled
Entered an effervescent girl with perennial plastered smile.

                                         Photo courtesy of Mansi Shah - http://mystifiedforever.blogspot.in/

Gave me hope, abundant edition of acceptance
Humble, infectious head donning not one but many hats,
She was the only, She was affection.

It is my turn, my moment,
To give back love, an always there helping hand

On this occasion, special and chosen
You stuck with me, curse your soul now forever damned.

Sid

@siddheshgarg

Three stories, One heart

Chapter 1: The DVD guy of Chameli Ghat

   He dived. The water was icy cold and transparent blue. The depth of the water was alarming and intimidating. Was it possible he was in the middle of fluidic abundance? A no man's land where his heart beat was the only possible living array of hope? Amidst the confusion, he accidentally exhaled. He immediately regretted his stupidity as a tiny part of life floated above in a form of a bubble. He pushed himself further beneath. He could see the corals beneath displaying an array of vibrant colours. The coral reef stretched beyond his eyes could trace and ever imagine. For a moment he was hypnotized by its sheer natural beauty. He went in a trance. All near to peak orgasms looked anemic. His agonizing mortal world seemed far behind. For an iota of a second his eyes flash backed in to the human cravings and deficiencies. His longing for the bitter taste of success now seemed inconsequential and ludicrous. He looked back. His worldly false steps waved farewell. He closed his eyes. Was he dead?

  

   He woke up with a jumpstart. He muffled a tiny scream. He looked at himself. He was naked and his olive lustrous skin shone in the shimmering sun. He was in his charpoy. The rugged sheets had been fallen in to the floor and his room had the aura of emptiness and loneliness. He looked at his flaccid penis. He looked at the side table. The laptop was playing a rerun of some BDSM porn. The leather and the faint moans of the couple seemed a bit loud for the nearby serene atmosphere. He continued watching it for a minute and realizing his hormones becoming active, shut the laptop in a haste. He stood up and looked at the mirror. He skin was still tight and his hair looked frizzy. He gestured some model like poses and concluded that at the age of 28 he still got it. He muscles still were in place and his penis he was proud of.  He looked at his eyes. They had a tinge of crimson red. Uncommon and reminded him of the Devil. He sniggered and proceeded with his daily chores. Due to financial crisis looming over his family he was ousted at the ripe age of 16. Living on the streets had taught him a lot of things. 

  

   What started as begging soon now led him to sell pirated movies belonging to pop culture. However, this was just a cover. His specialty was in selling porn. Men and boys as young as 15 flocked to him for steamy DVDs which would provide them their guilty pleasure. He sold all types of genre - BDSM, leather, soft core, hardcore, gangbang and even rape. He controlled the hormones of the entire Chameli Ghat and this very reason made him the unofficial lifeline. No one dared to disrespect him for it meant no more DVDs. Even the local havaldars gave him salaam as a formal respected greeting. Being powerful meant that he could get away with minor and sometimes major law infringements. But his penis was also quite famous in the neighbourhood. Women who had the opportunity of having a date with him would swear the Kama sutra was his Bible. They moaned in ecstasy when gossiping with their fellow envious friends and yearned for his fellatio. He had sex with almost all the beautiful girls and women in the entire Chameli Ghat and was proud of de-virginising many privileged damsels. (To Be Continued.)

   - Sid

   @siddheshgarg

Citizens - A Threat For The Administration?

    With the recent disturbing news stating the interception policies of the U.S senate of the innocent American citizens, it perhaps draws a sharp revelation that the self proclaimed superpower is just a mere oddity. Barack Obama who is the most recognized and popular president, U.S.A ever had has now raised eye brows among the common masses in regards to their privacy. In an era where terrorism is constantly looming over the western shores, perhaps NSA's bid to tap the call durations and numbers of innocent Americans does for a second - raise concerns. Obama who is serving his second term as the president has to face sharp criticism  and dodging behind this blasphemous and unreasonable amendment for reasons to fight against terrorism would certainly not be acceptable.

    Agreed, the global threat does possess an act of panic and alarm, however trust of the citizens is what the government has to possibly be confident over. Concentrating on such absurdity -  call durations, recording connection logs and networking details of common people from U.S website portals such as Facebook, Yahoo, Skype etc. is beyond doubt an act of proclaiming that we the users of Internet are victims of suspicions and distrust. 

It does raise questions on the Obama administration for their uncalled control in private lives of innocent citizens. Julian Assange, notoriously famous for leaking the U.S cables now holds a hope of sympathy and allows him to credit that the administration itself is the greatest threat to the common masses' confidence and belief. 

    Such a whistle blow of the secretive deal between the government and the Verizon telecommunication company is profane and does not present any validity behind their defensive stance on this matter. It also overshadows the fact of capability and milestones covered by Nobel Peace prize winner Obama and produces dubious doubts of his style of running the U.S parliament. We can only hope that the citizens do not bear the brunt of invasion and hard conduct as mandated and immediate steps be taken to counter act this in to immediate dilution.

                                                                                                                                                     Siddhesh                                                                                                                                            @siddheshgarg

All sad and prematurely done

ashen smooth sun kissed skin,
cupped with pain, melancholy. wretched desolation.

intense almond eyes filled with skepticism towards existence
drowning in emptiness and losing everything. .

past creeps every now and then,
like a sudden zephyr warning of a possible quicksand.

reach out for a shoulder and yet find none.

I need no anchor, I need no hand.

This is my ignored karmic life all sad and prematurely done.

I yearned for the alabaster tone, an iota of recognition.

Do I owe this life, questions my wavering mind.

I am just a living zombie, 

all sad and prematurely done.

- Sid

@siddheshgarg

me - the shitzu

I like them stars. They exude an aura of panache and vivacity. Considering the on-goings of my life, it does offer some - sparkles. So why are not things a cakewalk? Don't we crave for glitz, glamour, moolah? Perhaps, yes.

I too need my bank accounts over flowing. Support my expenditures and have guilt free luxuries and enough money to take a trip to Mars and back. Even when life revolves a full 360, it does end at degree 0. Old turkey buzzer! All I wanted to do was fly high. But why do I lust for the holy tender? Perhaps it is a defense mechanism. To involve myself with something unattainable thereby wading my mind away from the permanent lull. Am I able to attest my paramount attention to the current impending pressures? No. I am just dead boring. Period.

I often become impaled with questions countering my meaning of relativity and existence in this very competitive and yet addictive world. World is beautiful, yes. But I am not. I like ugly and I prefer it this way. With the sudden explosive need to define things, label brands and invent new definitions, perhaps behind all this hoopla are we not forgetting one major remedy - patience? Can't we just be patient and not rush in to things for a change. In many ways, I feel like one of the background silent performers - the junior guild of artists. Whimsical and yet the sutradhaar. Oui, I would like to be the one.

I have been always a go-getter. Taking my own sweet time adjusting to things and yet getting acquainted only with the mere definitions. A four letter nuclear bomb, filled with nothing but selfless passion, sacrifice and mutual acceptance. Why do we need a companion, a confidant, a consort? Isn't the whole idea of falling head over heels overly exaggerated or just a cock and bull story? Though vague and limitless, why can't I escape from its sheer exuberance and infectious aura. It is cold and yet I feel warm deep down within. I feel so medieval. Imagine being teleported to the La Belle Époque, an era introducing bohemian attitude to the mindsets of the orthodox pan-Europeans or simply being in a trance by the sheer cosmic beauty while swimming in kṣīradhi or Kshira Sagar. Though urban, I am still that unabashed simple middle class guy who craves for Ghathiyas or glucose biscuits with chai. Want some?

I don't know my strengths. What I do know are my vulnerabilities. They are not one and can smoothly flow like the ever flowing Ganges. I sometimes wish to go on a excursion to the Himalayas and be lost, forever. Imagine, the feeling of peeing amidst the panoramic beauty of the snow clad peaks or chanting mantras in a monastery. A place devoid of the concrete jungles, devilish mind boggling gossip rants and subjecting myself to only sattvic lifestyle. No cottage cheese, No soda pop. No moral bindings, just me and God. Can then I be humble? Maybe, yes.

My current state is vulnerable. I am frail and not at my sunny best. It is almost like I like a lame duck waiting for my fag end like a cross - over ignored superstar counting his days. Sigh! I almost pity myself. I need some inspiration, a role model or maybe, I just want to go incommunicado and start all over again. Is such kind of a tempting offer too hard to ignore. At this period, maybe yes. I don't think I can afford to execute my dreams. Yes, I too have dreams. Big ones, stupid ones. I am the lone traveller yearning for social harmony and liberty from myself. Boring. Yes, I am.

So do I deserve anyone? A question rummaging my head like a knife stuck in cold butter. Yes, deep down within, however I deny, but I need someone. Someone being there, walking towards the unknown together with a bottle of elixir and hard coded secrets. I need someone to hold, embrace and understand my on-goings. It is a shit show, but I am a selfish ass dude. I cry the foulest when I see people in distress. Makes me want to tear myself and give up my all. But why am I boastful. Who cares? This is my space, I am my own created shitzu. Ace up!

What if genitals were pronounced "geynitels". Ass pronounced as "ehss". Yes as "S" or I would end each sentence with a trademark "da" or "na." Would it not be funny when in thesis (say), I am giving my life's worth speech and amidst the crowd, someone just says "Boobs." I literally feel sorry for myself at this very moment. Sigh!

                                                                                                                          - Siddhesh

                                                                                                                     twitter.com/siddheshgarg

Trek to Karnala Bird Sanctuary

  ­Experiencing an apocalyptic aura is something that everyone wishes, when sad. There are times when one just wants to go through a feeling that just makes it novelty, artistic and yet humane. Inspiration is a soft drug which needs to be smoked time and again to keep the fire alive. Intoxication at its panoramic best, one constantly thinks to reinvent himself to maintain the freshness. Often the dull monotonous life becomes a tad boring and escapism is sort in emergency. Hiking proved to be one such escape for me, this time.

   I have never tried to be associated with any forms of labels. Urban dude, weird anomaly or being just an uncivilized street hippie, I can do it all with élan. Sometimes, I believe it is just one of my alter egos; waiting to cracking out of his shell, one at a time. Being close with someone closer to nature, innocent souls who are now at the mercy of human pitying of not invasion - enters Karnala Bird Sanctuary.

   The said sanctuary is quite sarcastic with its name for save for a few captive peahens and parrots there are no birds at this sanctuary. But even though this was quite public, I still did not want to lose the chance of experiencing the pitiful state of the peahens, let alone peeking their feathers on full regalia (which I did experience). Located at a distance of 12 kilometres from Panvel railway station, it is just fitting to set tiny signboard warnings that state, "this is not just more than your eyes can see." Hiking on a Republic Day of India, does have its perks. For starters, the police officers greeted us with a smile and warmth at the entrance, proclaiming to be entry-free on this eve. Bless his soul. For real.

   Trekking, I started and yes, it takes a good stamina to hike up the Karnala Fort. Well, a helpful advice. If you wish to lacerate yourself with the scorching never dying spirit of Sun, you more than welcome to initiate hiking after 10.00 a.m. Yeah, right. No biggie. What Karnala Bird Sanctuary lacks in animal presence, sure makes up with the picturesque still like views and yes, this is a great jumpstart for a fresh batch of new selfie pictures. You welcome. While there is a snack shack near the base of Karnala Fort trek, once inside the sanctuary, it is not scrumptious and considering the elevated cravings for spices due to physical exhaustion, this turns out to be a huge disappointment. Water jugs if needs to be recharged, should be done here at the snack shack for there is no human soul present once you initiate your Karnala Fort trek. Overall the experience is quite uplifting for it makes one contemplate how easy it would have been if we were not caught up with daily human jargon. It does make one realize that it is acceptable to let the clock tick slowly, for a change. Our priorities are just based on luxuries, and unlike Nature we never let things go in the flow.

   Just keep walking, and the answers will eventually follow.

Best way to go to Karnala Bird Sanctuary:

1. Trains available from Wadala Road to Panvel railway station. Once at Panvel station, walk out towards Panvel West and once in the main road, ask for "Chinchwan" sharing.

2. There are plenty of six seated auto rickshaws for Chinchwan which allow sharing for a maximum of 10 rupees per person. Once at Chinchwan main road, there are frequent six seated auto rickshaws who will drop you at Karnala Bird Sanctuary for 20 rupees per person.

3. You can directly book six seated auto rickshaw to Karnala Bird Sanctuary for 250 rupees from Panvel.

4. It is highly advisable to leave the sanctuary premises at the best before 3 p.m.. Six seated sharing auto rickshaws are not frequent after 3 p.m..

5. Alternative is to have a private vehicle which is a viable option.

- @siddheshgarg

 

Never ending karmic cycle

Heart beats, yet does not sing
carries wind, maladies and debauchery.
upon heightened snails pace and infringement,
appears a wizard tiny yet impeccable capability

looks gobsmacked, body of experience
eyes glazing, glowing with flames.
appeases with confidence and to believe
world seems small and happy place.

reach out for faces recognized and realize,
temple of doom is hidden somewhere beneath
the moral alchemist is not anyone but you
the fragile heart who whispered to stand tall
life is a bitch but to fly in to the light

the one who shines at the darkest
after all has danced in the rain
sunshine, rainbows a la willy wonka
clubs with pain and orgasms in a never ending karmic circuit game.

                                                                                                                                    - Siddhesh
                                                                                                                             twitter.com/siddheshgarg