Study this now- part2

we saw how things went disastrously wrong for Rohit in the first part...he's just gained 5 kgs with his amazing diet and exercise. it doesn't take mind blowing intelligence to take a guess that if you don't chew well, u wont digest the food, n it'll come onto ur body...the study mentioned in the story was ACTUALLY there in the Times :))...now we follow him as he seeks other sources of dietary illumination...yes, he does seek out Simi in the end, read...

82, 82, 82...the number rang in Rohit's head the toll of a death-bell. He had sunken into a hole deeper than before. Simi looked like a distant memory. He got up the next morning, and it was coincidentally a holiday, all the more time for him to mull over his misfortunes. He brushed his teeth, went through his daily routine with uncharacteristic silence, his mind still occupied with thoughts about his diminished chances with Simi. Glancing through the morning paper, he saw something that made his blood freeze and boil both at the same time. Screaming at him from the paper were the words

EAT SLOWLY, CHEW WELL TO REDUCE OBESITY RISK.

He wanted to rant and ravage, he wanted to hit something. He wanted to call the newspaper men and tell them what nincompoops they were for printing this. He however made do with a loud, deranged laugh, devoid of any joy. Then he proceeded to crush the paper, and burn it over the gas flame.

Mr. Rohit's dad would not be reading the morning news that day...

He couldn't take it longer and decided to go out for a walk round his building, listen to some music. And without a word, he slipped out of the house, and settled into a gentle amble, his i-pod playing all the while.

He kept walking rounds of the buildings, but it didn't help things much. The anger and frustration was building within like a pulsating beast. And before he knew it, he was making a dash for...god only knows where. He ran till the song ran out, he ran to the beat till he was beat, and by the time got over, he was finished. He sat down on whatever resembled a seat and panted like he had never panted. That's when a light turned on in the remote and unused corners of his cerebrum. He could use the music to distract himself from the pain and tyranny of exercise. That's what he would do, he decided, he'd give it a shot.

If someone could see God, he would right now see Him doing a delighted little jig. His belief, that even that His dimmer creations could come good at the end of the day, had been validated. Time to convene that meeting with the Titans, He wanted to see them argue about promoting polymaths NOW...

Anyways, back to our underdog story. Like we were saying, Rohit had decided to run it off, and true to his word, he ran, and ran...and ran. All that slouching, the finding easier alternatives, all of that was gone. There came a point after which he didn't even care about slimming down, he just wanted to keep running. He would line up an entire playlist and run, sometimes for hours on end, pausing very rarely.

The excitement had begun. School was a week away, and Rohit had lost ten kg's in the last three months. He had gone from a waist size 36 to a size 32. His double chin was gone, his lean body and chiselled face showed character, his eyes had a light in them. He had the confidence that he could do anything, and he was sure Simi could be his.

School came. It was wonderful. No one could believe their eyes when they saw Rohit, and kept questioning him about he. He answered them with a smile, that widened all the more when Simi asked him about it. The following weekend, he decided he would go to her house and tell her all of what he felt. The only problem was he knew her apartment complex, not her flat number.

Then another brilliant idea hit him. This was happening with alarming regularity with him nowadays. He knew exacty what to, he knew how he would win her now.

And so, it was after an hour and a half a tired Rohit rang the doorbell, to find Simi opening the door, all dressed up and looking beautiful.

His tongue remained firmly attached to the roof of his mouth, and at this crucial juncture, his already limited mental faculties seemed to have gone vacationing in Hawaii. He had planned upon telling her first why he was here. He found himself telling her the how part of it instead.

'Hey Sim. I actually wanted to tell you something, but I didn't know where exactly you lived. So i rang up every door in every block, till I finally found you here.' He gave her his most winning smile.

She opened her mouth in amazement, then closed it. She placed her hand on his cheek and smiled. 'Why did you do that Rohit? Why did you go through so much trouble to find me?'

'Because...because I know that finding you would be finding me. And without you, there is no me. I could find all there is to find in this world, but without you, they would all be meaningless. And-' he could not continue, because Simi chose that moment to clasp onto him and hug him tightly. He slowly brought his arms around her, finally feeling complete...

SCREECH!! Honestly, this is not a Nicolas Sparks novel. If it was, the mushy parts would be better written. Let's get the facts straight, this is what actually happened after Rohit gave her his most winning smile.

She stared at him for a second, confused. 'But why Rohit? You could just ask the watchman for my flat number, why go through all the trouble?'

Rohit could do more than rearrange his features in a sombre expression and gape at her.

'You're really funny at times man, really you're just so stupid at times Rohit! Anyways, whatever you have to say, it's gotta wait. I'm running late for a movie with Vinit.'

'Vinit?'

'Yeah. Oh didn't you know? We've been seeing each other for some weeks! Anyways, I'll catch you later, bye Rohit.'

He stood there as she trotted off in a hurry. Eventually he made his way to the street, trudging all the long way home. There was no rain, no loud songs in the background. Just a shrug of his shoulders at best. But there was a consolation, he had at least regained his health in this whole affair. And there was a single thought running through his head, the one thought that gave him a modicum of peace.

Well, you don't get it all...

Study this now- part1

every day, a new study in the paper...mostly it'll be contradicting the previous one, n if u're setting stock by them..:)))))...god save u! he certainly didn't save Rohit...not me! i lost my weight :P...our main man in this story...a story about 2 things: one how these studies are jus an expensive waste of time. and second-i can say from personal experience-that all u need to do to lose weight is run like there's no tomo, u sonofagun :P..

"EAT FOOD FAST AND CHEW LESS TO AVOID GAINING WEIGHT"

The heading screamed at Rohit from the morning Times. The page adjacent to the editorial one was always replete with such studies, touching topics as varied as weight loss to the most promiscuous species in the animal kingdom. Yes, it seemed like people wanted to study everything, and anything.

But you couldn't wipe that smile off Rohit's face today even with industrial cleaner. For some time now, he had been wanting to some of that baby fat. People said he was 18, baby fat was long gone. But he didn't care, people say a lot of things anyway. He had been looking at options which didn't include a trip to the gym or a run, or where he wouldn't have to come back tired and plop down onto the couch. But there wasn't anything substantial on the net, nothing verified. So he was hoping to come across one of these study searches, where they'd apparently experiment on people before making a conclusion. This he could trust. Of course, he could do some breathing exercises and his little stretches. Rohit wasn't, after all, lazy you know.

He went to his room and checked his weight, making sure no one was watching. It pointed at 77 kgs. Good, he thought contentedly, he had not put on weight for a month now. He decided it was time to go public with his iron resolution. He entered the kitchen, where his mother was busy, and his father was trying to help her, eventually only making it worse. His brother was having a bath, and was unfortunate to miss the historic event.

'Mom, Dad, I've decided that its time I lose weight!' he proclaimed, waiting for their reaction.

They looked at him for a moment, silent. Then his dad said, 'That is great news son! Indeed! Now can you pass the salt-box, the one right behind you?'

What the-?, 'I'm not joking, I've really decided to. I've even put together a plan.'

They both looked at each other, as if deciding who was going to speak. Then his mom said, 'You've made a lot of plans even before Rohit. Follow this one through, then we will truly appreciate you.'

Rohit nodded, disappointed at the lack of encouragement. Well I'll show them now, let's see who has what to say, when I fit into the track-pants dad bought last year.' It was a strange irony of his life; when his dad, in an attempt to get his son to move farther than from the couch to the refrigerator, got him a pair of high-end track-pants, he wouldn't fit into them...

And it had begun. The great diet, the great breathing and stretching regime. Rohit devoured his food so quick, he got to dessert before everyone else had finished their first serving. He swallowed his food so fast, as though it was so much toxic waste. He didn't feel too good at the end of the day, and the john used to welcome him more often than it hitherto used to. But his belief weathered all these storms.

He did his breathing exercises regularly, for half an hour everyday. He breathed deep, in and out, all the while thinking happy thoughts of a slimmer himself. Eventually he could feel the excess fat float out of his body taken away like a breeze. Or maybe it was the fan that he had turned on at full blast, so that he wouldn't sweat too much.

And thus the month had ended, the end of Rohit's odyssey. He could not physically see any remarkable change, but he was sure the weighing machine would beg to differ. He started imagining how Simi's outlook about him would change now. She was this girl in his class, who also lived close to his house. He liked her, and would have asked her, but his appearance had caused her to exude nothing but friendly vibes. Now it would all change.

So on the thirtieth morning, he tiptoed to weighing machine, making sure no one was looking. He wanted to cry out his triumph, show the others how wrong they were. He stood on it and taking a deep breath, looked down.

For a full ten seconds, he stood wordless, stunned into silence. Then he started pacing agitatedly about the room, waving his arms about wildly and laughing an excited, hysteric laughter. If a strait jacket had been handy right about then, it would have been used on him without any protest from anyone.

Were you in the room, you would see him jumping around, still laughing that demented laugh. You'd conclude that he was happy beyond his wits, to the point that it should have been a crime. But were you to take a closer look into his eyes (mind you, without getting hit violently in your own by his flailing arms), you would see that something was wrong.

Then if you were to steal a look at the weighing machine (hopefully without a sore eye by then), you would see the needle pointing at....82...

This old man

a very popular old nursery rhyme, so nice :)...i jus HAD to mess wid it then :P...read on..

This old man, he played one,

Called the children home for fun,

He shushed their cries and put them in a room,

This old man went dancing home.

This old man, he played two,

Kept them there till he was through,

The kids never liked it when he moaned,

This old man went dancing home.

This old man, he played three,

As he swung the axe with glee,

He took their souls and gave his dog the bones,

This old man went dancing home.

This old man, he played four,

He also used to keep a score,

It helped him know, how long there was to go,

This old man went dancing home.

This old man, he played five,

Their helpless sobs gave him a high,

He waved at their parents next morning in town,

This old man went dancing home.

This old man, he played six,

His mind had started playing tricks,

He felt they all knew it was him alone,

This old man went dancing home.

This old man, he played seven,

The children point at him from heaven,

He can't face them, he can't take any more,

This old man went dancing home.

This old man, he played eight,

Cracked under the inner weight,

Into the woods, one night in a storm,

This old man went dancing home.

This old man, he played nine,

Let the chill run down his spine,

He swung his axe, a full one-eighty,

This old man then ceased to be.

This old man, he played ten,

Another one added to his den,

In the place where it burns, he's down below,

This old man's gone dancing home.

Parking ramps-part 2

i didn't intend to make it a dark story, i wanted it to be aimless and sorta pointless, like a salvia trip or somethin :P...just a story of nothing about nothing, taking it out, wadever (?)...trips always seem to find their way in my stories nowadays, it might end up being mt trademark writing style :))...but i guess, dark matter has become second nature now, so on with the story then...i'll try n make up stuff as i go...anyone notice that the main guy has no name? :P

Yes, the world spun around me and I felt dazed and all and sundry, but there really isn't time to get into the details. Fact was the scraping sound could be heard making its way up the spiraling ramp, and I did not have much time before it got here. The 11-year old Mehak took hold of my hand and beckoned me to follow her and we made a dash for the opposite direction. We came across an air vent on our way, and she pulled away the hatch for us to get in and hide. We got in and she replaced the hatch, motioning to me to not say a word. She saw the thoroughly puzzled expression on my face and gestured that she would tell all. She placed both her hands on both sides of my forehead, and suddenly I was yanked out of the tiny space into an infinite chamber of blinding lights and swirling everything. It was all technicolor, or as my friend would say, all jatang. Bright orbs or intertwining stuff floated in front of me, assuming prophetic shapes, then melting into a throbbing mass. In front of me floated the bloated version of Mehak's 11-year old head, fixing her almond shaped orbs onto my eyes. I always remembered her being beautiful, with the most appealing, soft voice. It was that voice that spoke to me now, telling me what was happening.

'You are indeed seeing me in the flesh. You remember me don't you? Those summers that we spent running through the parks together? Time took me away from you, who knows how we'd have ended up.' Here, her face took on a melancholic expression, if that was possible for an 11-year old face, and she tried to touch my face. 'But that is not the matter. Let me tell you what you have stumbled upon. Just like you, one day seven years ago, I decided to check out this parking lot. But I did not know then what this place was. This place turns into a wormhole by night. All through the day, we lie suspended in time as the world carries on its monotonous charade, but once the sun sets, the cogs are once again set in motion, to spin into nothingness. Those things you saw earlier, they are the controllers of this game, a quicksand of souls, they will swallow your being. We must not fall to their hands. I have been running from them every night for the past seven years.' A tear fell onto her cheek, and she took a long pause, during which time I decided to wonder about how the hell I'd gotten here. But it hurt too much, so I let it go for the moment.

'We shall remain as we are forever. Till death, or worse, catches us with us, and it eventually will. At least now I have you to die with. Could you come to love me by then?'

'WHAT THE?!...' I was suddenly back in the hatch, with Mehak still beside me, futilely beseeching me to keep silent. I made for the hatch, tearing it open and jumping out, away from her...

Straight into the waiting claws of that thing, whatever it was. I fell, limp, at its feet and tried to take a look at its face, and I managed to.

But it had no face. It was simply a swirling void, a black whirlpool that seemed to collapse in on itself. It wanted to suck at me, and now I realized Mehak's words were literal, it was a whirlpool. And it was sucking me in, I could feel the inescapable force tugging at me.

I looked around and saw her come out of the hatch, screaming in horror, wailing.

'NO! NOOO!'...but strangely, her voice grew deeper, and deeper, until it was robotic. Her image twisted, got mixed with various other colors, and finally faded...

'Oh f-', I was almost falling off the ledge. I quickly balanced myself, and got down. It had stopped raining a long time ago, and I checked my watch to see that I had slept for half an hour, dreaming. I laughed; yes, there was a very typical ending to my story, but it still left me wondering why I'd dreamed of Mehak. I wondered whether it had anything to do with my evening activities, those leaves I had chewed. Then I decided maybe it was. What the heck, no damage done. I walked away silently down to my house, and tucked myself into bed, to a long, dreamless sleep...

Footnote: Salvia Divinorum, or 'Diviner's sage' is a well-documented drug, traditionally used for purely medicinal purposes, but also for recreational reasons in the recent past. It can ingested by chewing, smoking, or using a tincture. Some of its symptoms are:

Past memories, such as revisiting places or people from childhood memory.

Sensations of motion, as if being pushed or pulled by some force.

Overlapping realities, such as the perception of being in several places at once, accompanied by synesthesia.

It is a drug to be had alone when in mild doses, as it causes shifts in consciousness. However when ingesting in pure form, such as leaves, it is advisable to have a sober, pleasant partner around, or it may result in a bad trip and unpleasant dreams...

Parking ramps-part 1

they're my fav places in the world :)...i see one from my terrace n i can stare at it for hours, the lights of the cars winding upwards, downwards...there's another world hidden there somewhere...n i'm jus tryin to explore that one...

It was half an hour past midnight. The sky was a deep shade of velvet, placid as ice, and silent as only midnight skies can be. It was a cool, clouded night, pity that the stars lay hidden behind the wispy curtain. It had just rained, and the occasional clap of remnant thunder bore testimony to the fact. I was on my apartment terrace, in that secret place only I knew. A small nook on top of the penthouse roof, snug beneath the covers of the building, yet open to the elements. I'd sat there, untouched by the drops, yet touched by that rainfall. The wind had rushed to greet me like an old friend, and it many ways it was one. I sat there, the world forgotten and forgotten to the world. As the breeze sang its lullaby, I found fatigue spreading its tendrils all over me, and my eyes became lead-lidded. I bolted upright to fight it, and decided I'd overcome it by doing something. That's when I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to go to that parking ramp.

There was a parking ramp that I could see from my spot on the terrace. And for some reason, I could sit there for hours, transfixed by the view of car lights winding upwards and downwards. Somehow it all looked so beautiful to me. I always felt there was some story to that place, or to every parking ramp for that matter. And so this time I decided I'd finally go there.

It was quite a ways from my place, its funny how close everything can look from up above. But after fifteen minutes of walking on the empty, cool roads, I finally found myself at the entrance to the building that housed the parking lot. I tentatively made my in, checking to see if there were any guards about at this time. There were none. And so I stepped into the world of the parking ramps.

It was shrouded in pin-drop silence, and the distantly spaced florescent lights flickered and played shifting shadows on the floors, coyly assuming coherent shapes before dispersing into the obscure again. About half of the slots in the lot were filled, with cars as varied as a Maruti 800 to a Mercedes E class. I made my way up to the first floor without incident, and felt my initial excitement at being here slowly waning. It wasn't as exotic or different as I thought it'd be. Just more empty and lifeless cars, sitting mutedly in their places. That's when I heard a slight rustle to my left. I was frozen out of unexpected fear, and looked around to look at...nothing.

Was the light just laughing at me or was that a particular passing shadow?

Then there came a low, grating sound, followed by what sounded like a muffled moan. Like that of long claws scraping around solid ground. I gulped, suddenly wishing I wasn't here. I turned around to go back out, but then stopped dead in my tracks. Standing right across the exit, holding a small blunt axe, was a figure in a hood. In a second, things had gone from pleasant to boring to ominous to downright horrific. Again that scraping sound came, only closer this time. Cornered, I did what anyone could only do. I ran upwards, away from both those things, whatever they were.

I huffed and panted my way to the second level, only to get blindsided by a small figure. I tried desperately to crawl away from it, get a good look at it. That was when things really spiraled from the realm of the ordinary to the completely bizarre. Because the figure was that of my childhood friend Mehak's. We were friends since I could remember, but when I was eleven, she had suddenly disappeared, reported missing.

Apparently she had been right here. But open closer inspection I realized the full extent of the horror. It was her, that figure, but she was still eleven years old...

Dantewada Days

i've been reading the papers, full of the recent maoist attack that killed 72 soldiers...everyone has been relentlessly condemning them, but no one is wondering why the locals are getting sucked into this affair...i looked up dantewada and found it be desolate place, with a sad present and a bleak future...Salwa Judum is an anti-naxal militia group indirectly funded by the indian government, who altho stand for democracy and freedom, cannot tell their bullets to hit the right targets. 350 ppl have lost their lives and 50,000 their homes in the last 5 years to the cross-fire between these two groups...i find the whole exercise pointless, and have sorta taken it out in the poem...btw, 'crimson' in the 2nd line, is a dual reference to blood, and the land the maoists control :)...sorry, couldn't help but show-off :P..

Here I stand, a blunt axe in my hand,

The toys of the sons of this crimson land.

A life of violence, revenge and sorrow,

Its only in the books that we read of a tomorrow.

Not left not center, yet I was caught in between,

In the line of fire, no distinctions are seen.

I knew not the ideals on which they depend,

Just that when they came, I lay down and did pretend.

We were told the government's men had come,

Instead my mother and sister were shot by Salwa Judum.

Then came the maoists, saying it was only fair,

That if they take my kin, then I take theirs.

So I took the AK-56, and was in red thought clad,

Despite knowing that the maoists were just as bad.

I cared not that these people were a threat to democracy,

Wanted to put lead into those who took mom away from me.

I've read the papers singing Salwa Judum's praise,

By people who have seen none of Dantewada's days.

The upholders of democracy, they're called in this war,

But if it was their battle, what did we suffer for?

Then one fine day we prevailed, our plan came true,

I got my revenge, but took a couple of slugs too.

The government condemned us, a minister took the blame,

Countless like me lost to a pointless war, to them its just the same.