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

she is a woman, a pride

her eyes are ocean, hypnotising and humble
heart stops at every gaze, mysterious yet hurt

I reach out for her
she is a woman, a pride
I fall into a hall of shame
wipe off my guilt and walk towards her
her intense deep eyes rests and tricks me in never ending game

the flame erupts and I hesitate
scream and gobble a anger

she is a woman, a pride
a valley of love, a valley of hurt
heart stops at every gaze, mysterious yet hurt

I call for truce, but she is in the veil
breeze stiffens and I hesitate
she stole my heart but why does it stop?

I wail a soft cry
she appears distinct, she appears gloomy
I wail for attention,
she appears distinct, she appears unawares
I give up, I soothe the pain
she turns her pity best
she smiles and my heart rests.

An interview with a Drug Addict

     Traveling in the rusty old bus in the street of the city, I chanced upon stumbling with a scrawny self proclaimed old hippie urchin. He claimed he was a drug addict on the very first introduction and seemed unabashedly unashamed. He sat next to me and jumped to initiate a conversation. Some of the excerpts of the conversation are as follows:

Drug Addict: Can I sit here?
Me: Sure, the whole seat is empty.
Drug Addict: Cool.
Two minutes pass, where I am busy fiddling with my cell phone.
Drug Addict: You know I am a drug addict.
Me: Uh..
Drug Addict: Its a long story.
Me: Uh..
Drug Addict: You know I am going to ___(Mentions some Rehab facility).
Me:Uh..
Drug Addict: Where are you from?
Me: Bombay.
Drug Addict: So how did you land up here?
Me: karma.
Durg Addict: *hysterically laughs*
Me: Uh..
Drug Addict: What are you doing here?
Me: I guess, traveling.
Drug Addict: Cool. You know there people consider us as filths.
Me: *True dat*. I guess.
Drug Addict: Its a long story. I am a fucking mess. I am trying to be on my feet.
Me: *No answer*.
He goes on.
Drug Addict: My Dad was a brilliant scientist. But my parents got murdered.
Me: Cool.
Drug Addict: I come from Delhi and I am a fucking mess.
Me: *I know that already*.
Drug Addict: Forgive my odour of alcohol as I cant help it.
Me: It's cool. It's cool.
*A passenger sits in between us. My eyes are elated*
Drug Addict: *To the passenger* Can we exchange seats, Sir.
Poor passenger: *looks at him and gets the smell*.
The passenger leaves the bus.
Drug Addict: So where were we? I like to be on O.P and Dream gun.
Me: Cool.
Drug Addict: I wish to stop. But I cant.
Me: All you have to do is believe.
*I curse my senti feeling*.
Drug Addict: I went to Delhi the other day and I got acquainted with syringes and hash. Great fun.
Me: Sure thing.
Drug Addict: I am unemployed and need a job.
*As if I am the job dealer*
Me: Uh..
Drug Addict: Can you proivde me a job.
Me: Actually I was about to ask you.
Drug Addict: *laughs hysterically and then coughs hysterically*.
Me: You okay?
Drug Addict: I am just okay. I just need some pot.
Me: Oh okay.
Three minutes pass with no interruptions. I bless the time.
Drug Addict: So, there is a ground nearby. Want to smoke?
Me: *I look at him. 1. Smells. 2. Infected* No thanks.
Drug Addict: I love weed.
Me: Me too.
Drug Addict: But I am an addict.
Me: Uh..
Drug Addict: Can you give me some cash for a beedi?
Me: But you are an addict.
Drug Addict: Yeah. Can you give me some cash for a beedi?
Me:But you are an addict.
Drug Addict: I want to stop it.
A minute passes.
Drug Addict: So where you off to.
Me: *Mentions the destination*.
Drug Addict: I am going to the rehad clinic. So can you give me some cash for a beedi?
Me: *starts to leave*.
Drug Addict: Dude, your stop hasn't come. It is supposed to be mine.

Moral of the story: Talk to a Drug Addict if you wish to get down at a different stop.



     

Words and their impact

     My taste for music has always been diverse and distinctive. I do not mind the occasional reggae to the thick baritone voice of Kenny Chesney. I listen to music as it makes me pumping on my feet with a sense of letting off my dick down. But occasionally I would die for a good sad single preferably by Elton John for I like to be grounded to the reality.Of lately I am listening to Grouplove with their latest hit single titled Tongue Tied which really makes me groovy and selfish. So can music make one real? Well I do not know about that for I take music to a whole new cosmic level. I like the plasticity of music for it is made with electronic elements married with vocals of symphonic tune. The auto tune is also not bad as it is rad and in fashion. But I never follow fashion. Hell I still wear flip flops to the corporate world and still be cool with it. So can you really understand head or tail of what I am saying? Well this particular blog is supposed to be like one. The more mysterious I become the more pride I have in myself. Life does not come with a predefined manual and I have learnt the hard way. Till now I haven't told anyone in this world of my trials and tribulations, but seriously do anyone really care! The answer is no. I am happy being goofy and articulate sometimes, it is one of the many personalities I have. I like to be fake! People always wonder that you should emulate someone and try to be inspired. But I am a captain of my ship where I create the path and I change the wheel. There is no one to understand me and I am frankly content with that. I feel that I am not bad or an asshole but plain weird. Weird has taken to a whole new meaning thanks to the likes of pop culture and that is where music chips in. The fact that music was always there in the background in creating ground-setting styles and trends. I wanted to be like someone but today I feel like I am on the right track of discovering myself. Some say I have an attitude and many of my acquaintances say I am egoistic.

      The truth is I am just an illusion complied with modern day anxieties dripping with aggressive amounts of egoism, kindness, understanding and shapelessness. I do not believe in labels as they make a person too limited. Why not be free to fuck with some vagina rather than thinking of the possibilities of the result. Pain and pleasure always go hand in hand and they act quite demure when you begin to wonder why can't I have one. Well pain is inflictive and athletic but we live in a world of alter reality. Difficult to understand, well it means one is trying to contemplate. There is no abstract feeling as reality as everything is fake. The more one tries to be original, the more antagonistic one tries to sprint away from it.
 It is just a way of speaking of leaps and bounds to how far we will go to be who we really are. We are a jumble of insecurities simply because we are in the constant need to be a stand out and popular. The process speaks leaps and bounds to what we want to enact and display. Life has always been filled with wishes, disasters and more wishes. We never try to balance ourselves. I for example can always call a spade a spade but there are complications. I feel honored when people take the pains to understand me or my thoughts. It makes me feel grounded but the fact is that I like to be lustrous as life when loses its heavenly orgasmic charm proves futile and boring. There is no concept of re-ignition as the flames when doused never brings the spark.
      Who am I? Am I a son, confidant, friend, companion, employer, go getter or just fake? I am just human. I am fake. World always calls a obese person as fat, thin as skinny, quiet person as weird and a babbling person as outlandish. Bitch! If you do not have any better way than criticising others than you need to seriously get a life. Words create such a lasting impact. Relationships are interwined and broken in a mere jiffy all due to it. It has power, as it is sans shape. It is without a figure and it directly reaches the heart. The soul remembers it for it is sensitive to the talons of words. They are mighty and they hit like sphincters. There is no sense of five elements in it as it is not individual. Words are like Satan. They work their magic without any viscous plasticity. The more you try to be unaware the more ignorant you become. Ignorance is best served when one does not understand life. It is simple yet it is difficult. So are we just plain assholes or revered priests who have nothing but have greed and barbaric means of advice in store!

    I

Alter Ego

   I am aggressive. I need to burn this floor down. Bottle. Sip. Muzzle. Bottle. Sip. Guzzle. Bottle. Hey! The drinks are flowing. There is no air to breathe. The background is frizzy and I can see only colours. I become anime faced. Aggressive. Sobriquet. Aggressive. Adrenaline rush. I move. There is no familiarity. World is zooming past like an art of splashing paint. I am high. There is weed around. I smoke. I exhale. I smoke. I become a slayer. No limits here. I sprinkle holy water on the vampire. I am unstoppable. These last for seconds and then continues with no intervals. I develop this alter ego which is narcissist to the core and has a care a damn attitude. I am Caesar. I am shit. Bottle. Sip. Muzzle.
  I meet my reflection. It stares me. I start dripping. His hair is wild and he looks feisty. I need some time off. I pound. I follow the path to infinity and self consciousness and I need no familiarity around.There is some whispering occurring and it sounds as if there is a tinkle of bells of the faintest volume. I am too busy to hear it and continue my exhilaration. The drinks have sloshed me down and I have become selfish. I see some living beings gesturing at me, but I ignore. I swing. Bottle. Sip. Guzzle. I look at myself. I am drenched with loneliness. I close my eyes.

   Hate, Anger, Love, Confusion, Pain and Kindness emanate out of my body. They initiate with immense intensity that it makes my body warm. I mutter a silent prayer. I sip again. This time the world helps me drip oodles of feelings from me. The universe seems a bit unwelcome but I dance with no regrets. Embarrassment walks past me like an old friend. I gesture at him. He seems unnerved. It gives me confidence. I continue. There is dim lights around. They dance faint crimson, blood and then again crimson and blood. They laugh at me. I ask for another round. The waiter wears a monster's busby which is no less like a villain's armour. I signal at him and he understands. He brings me the magic of anti-dote in a jiffy. I drink this shot sans salt. Bitches around. Ain't 100 motherfuckers tell me anything. I relieve emotions from myself. A bitch walks by. Her cleavage are tempting and perfect. I call for freedom. I increase my tempo and the floor hi five's me. He does not pity me. I sneer. Fuck! I am who I am. Lets Go! I am hungry and I look around. Pretty girls now for I need some fast snickers - snackers. I quieten my pangs. I console to myself, "I need my animal instincts man!". I move in a sickening fashion. The waitress smiles at me and I take it in an encouraging stride. I think. The waitress, the woman with delicious bosom and finally my shots flicker as my true friends. Bottle. Sip. Muzzle. I am Caesar. I am shit. The music is deafening and House. The singles thwart my consciousness with zing and zaniness. I become dandy. Bottle. Sip. Guzzle. I move in an element with the beats. They are roaring with an abnormal paradox. There is enough room for being in a trance and moving ugly hair. I smoke. I exhale. The environment changes to colours of torture, infidelity and hopelessness. I smile.
  I try to amalgamate my thoughts. But I am in a different mood together. There is no time for pain. It seems like an immorality. There are plastic men with faces of disjointedness and painful memories calling me to join them, they seem exited; but I roll out my animal face at them. They get intimidated and call me for another night. They are well aware for the fact that they are my only company. They are none other than sides of me. I shake my head in disgust. There is agony, delusion and convulsion. I muster courage for a rematch but they are far too cunning. Pain is lurking in an attic above banging soft thuds as if to remind me that I am in an fake reality of my own misery. I try to forget but my pace slows. I do not know why. My legs sneer at me and whisper, "You dug your own grave brother". I want to embrace pain, but there are those shots calling me. The anime face returns. I regain my split - personality. I become my alter ego. It is fierce and bold. He spills no sign of loneliness, pain and recognition. I become a two man army. He feels at home. But an inner voice whispers doubts that produces obscurity of running debt with him and I think, perhaps this is temporary. I ignore it in a timely fashion but I handle with lack of lustre. I surrender to selfishness and boredom.They entangle me slowly with open arms and I dwell into the darkness which is kind to me. I hallucinate my own crucifixion.

Siddhesh

twitter.com/siddheshgarg

A Normal Oddity!

I walk, I come across hard work, peace, confusion. Where do I fit in? Thinks..guesses. Estimation is so not true! Bwaha!

Traveler, gypsy. Perhaps I am. Getting sloshed and meditating? Hmmmm. A combination odd enough? High on a highway. Sounds me. I call up an acquaintance and bug him. Have a drink, click. Sobers down. Impulse ticking.

Clock ticks. I prod.

I am in the class. La professour wearing a fancy pink tutu waving a magic wand. She is hot. Class mates sitting beside me in tailored suits and colorful cravats. Girls shimmering in bikinis. I guess.

Clock ticks. I prod.

Can’t see the professor. I lean in an effort. She teaches logistics, misogynistics, and multi awardee musicians.

A jukebox is playing “Mrs. Robinson” by Simon & Garfunkel. I transport into 1900’s. Woody Allen film-noire. Thinks.

Clock ticks. I prod.

I see roads circling my class. They lead me to future. They go high up. Can’t see the end. I feel a bulge in my pocket. Its appears heavy. I fish out. I glance.

It’s my past.

I scream.

 Siddhesh

Twitter.com/siddheshgarg