| Tuesday, June 26, 2007 |
| The Sweetest Thing. |
The friend bought a spanking new car.
The mentor asked him. You've done the pooja and everything?
No need, he said.
I'll just ask my mother to sit in the car. |
posted by n.g. at 22:42
(0) Peg(s) of Whisky
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| Friday, June 15, 2007 |
| Daddy Cool. |
There's a little girl called Amisha Dedhia whose education I sponsor.
Today, I received a copy of her 4th standard report card.
She scored an aggregate of 92%.
Who scores a 96 in MATH?
I feel like a proud father. |
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posted by n.g. at 22:50
(2) Peg(s) of Whisky
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| Tuesday, June 12, 2007 |
| With Hands Held High. |
Turn my mic up louder, I got to say somethin.
Lightweights steppin' aside, When we comin.
Feel it in your chest, the syllables get pumpin.
People on the street, they panic and start running.
Words on loose leaf, sheet complete coming.
I jump on my mind, I summon the rhyme of dumping.
Feeling the blind, I promise to let the sun in.
Sick of the dark ways, we march to the drumming.
Jump when they tell us they want to see jumping.
Fuck that, I want to see some fist pumping.
Risk something. Take back what's yours.
Say something that you know they might attack you for.
Cause I'm sick of being treated like I have before.
Like it's stupid standing for what I'm standing for.
Like this war is really just a different brand of war.
Like it doesn't cater to the rich and an abandoned the poor.
Like they understand you in the back of the jet,
When you can't put gas in your tank.
These fuckers are laughing their way to the bank
And cashing their cheque,
Asking you to have compassion and to have some respect,
For a leader so nervous in an obvious way,
Stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay.
And the rest of the world watching at the end of the day,
in the living room laughing, Like what did he say?
In my living room watching, but I am not laughing.
'Cause when it gets tense, I know what might happen.
The world is cold, the bold men take action.
Have to react, to getting blown into fractions.
10 years old is something to see,
Another kid my age dragged under a jeep,
Taken and bound and found later under a tree,
I wonder if he even thought the next one could be me.
Do you see the soldiers that are out today.
That brush the dust with bulletproof vests away.
It's ironic, at times like this you pray,
But a bomb blew the mosque up yesterday.
There's bombs in the buses, bikes, roads,
Inside your markets,your shops, your clothes,
My dad, he's got a lot of fear I know,
But enough pride inside not to let that show.
My brother had a book he would hold with pride
A little red cover with a broken spine.
In the back he hand wrote a quote inside,
When the rich wage war, it's the poor who die.
Meanwhile, the leader just talks away,
Stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay.
And the rest of the world watching at the end of the day,
Both scared and angry like what did he say?
With Hands Held High into a sky so blue
As the ocean opens up to swallow you.
With Hands Held High into a sky so blue
As the ocean opens up to swallow you.
With Hands Held High into a sky so blue
As the ocean opens up to swallow you.
With Hands Held High into a sky so blue
As the ocean opens up to swallow you.
With Hands Held High into a sky so blue
As the ocean opens up to swallow you.
With Hands Held High into a sky so blue
As the ocean opens up to swallow you.
Hands Held High - The best ever Linkin Park track on Minutes to Midnight, their worst ever CD. |
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posted by n.g. at 07:22
(0) Peg(s) of Whisky
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| Tuesday, June 05, 2007 |
| Hug Her, Boss. |
We were having lunch today when I remembered an incident, and smiled. She asked me why I had my 'memory-recall' smile plastered on my face, and I made up some story which satisfied her and she shifted focus back to her bad paneer.
The real story, exclusively for my readers.
It was 11 years ago, a few months after I first met her. It was an awkward few months, moreso for her coz I was older than my age then and she was younger than hers, so effectively though there aren't REALLY too many years between us, our profiles made it seem like there were several.
A couple of days after I first met her, she called up to say that she wanted to hug me. I knew her by then, so her request didn't strike me as unusual. I told her that we would hug the next time we met. But we didn't. And we didn't for the next several times and I forgot about it.
Then one day we were in an elevator, going up to her friend's place. Suddenly, she asked if she could hug me. And we hugged.
And then she stood there for the next 1o floors, not taking her eyes off the fascinating doors of the elevator.
I smiled all the way back to my office. |
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posted by n.g. at 23:23
(1) Peg(s) of Whisky
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Name: n. g.
Home: Bombay, India
About Me:
this fire is burning and its outta control its not a problem you can stop its rock and roll.
See my complete profile
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| They Rock! |
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