A Voice for Change

 What a year it has been? Everyone's written about it and how can I not let my butt, butt in? Maybe I'm late to join the party yet the last drink on the house will be mine. Which house?  Whose house? Who cares? Till the drink is all mine. What I drink? Drinking high spirit concoations was my passion of yesteryears. Today, I feast on blood. Blood of people who read my blogs and tear their hair in desperation for the grave folly they have just committed. I'm no where to be blammed for it,  I just offered you FREE advice, you took the overdose just because it was Free! The Nallasopara mentality just won't do you any good my friend. All your life you will be thirsty for someone's blood as water scarcity issues have not yet been tackled.  To that, I remember this year we have not brooded over water scarity, potholes, berozgari, kaminapan, mehengai and similar human apathies. Suddenly, everyone had a job but none could go after it. The restaurant dinners were affordable i...

 "Smell the discharge with utmost proficiency. The fragrance  will tell you whether it is infected or merely a debris of cell." I still recall the orthopedic Dr. Rege's commandment as he himself relished the hair standing odor. Who on earth smells patient's offensive discharges? We do have modern able laboratories to find out about the hidden secrets of human body. Infact the sample collected is given its due importance by sending to testing where an expert gentlely picks you up from the rest of the mediocre elements. Very diligently places you on a sterlised bed of glass slide. Gives you the warmth of the coverslip. Finally observes you under a high power microscope to look at for terrorist attacks on your body. Life ho toh discharge jaisi. What a royal treatment! But no, Dr. Rege denies these luxuries to his patient's discharge and only by his smelling instinct will the verdict be declared.  Another one of his not so stylish remedy is the human saliva. According...

 The Idle Mind's Workshop  Crack.. Crack.. Tak.. Tak... The mind was merrily building away stories. "Who is that new chick on the 12th block? What is she doing at the gynaec's clinic? Who are they pushing into the car? Why is the dog barking? When will it stop barking? How many barks are done and how many remaining? STOP... Stop the thread or I would go mad! Now don't question my sanity for I had long lost it along with my maturity. Wow! Mentally I yelled so loudly that even the dog had responded. It was now just growling in the throat and me in the mind.  Yes my Idle Mind was productively busy in its workshop. Ya correct the Devil's one for my pet name was Satan or the Hindi version Shaitan. My mind had taken me to places where my crooked body couldn't pace up. It had carried me on its hump back of imagination and shown me the eight wonders. Not of the world but of others mind. Yes secretly we both had tiptoed to the realms of minds next doors.  Shhhh...  I wa...