Friday, October 16, 2015

House of cards

Apparently murderer can achieve supreme position of the nation, according to House of cards.

I am wondering is it simply abusing fiction or exaggeration of reality. Last I have seen its 5th episode of season 1 and I got offended by extent of human manipulation so I stopped watching it altogether. A bit of overreaction, I agree but that’s how it is.  Even if I am being immature and I turn blind to the reality , I think a part of my heart just doesn’t want to believe in animal side of human beings. I still believe in humanity. SO if I kept watching, there were chances that I became cynical of everything and everybody around me.

So it was a sudden shock for me when I suddenly stumbled upon season 3 or 5 (I don’t remember exactly) on TV and found that Oh! Congressman Francis is now president.

I don’t understand “why so good rating for the show” but hey ! that’s my opinion.

Saturday, March 28, 2015

9 scenes from f.r.i.e.n.d.s I love the most

Moments with F.R.I.E.N.D.S are the most amazing time of my life, peaceful and happy. It makes my day after I get all burnt up. So It's a thank you note from my side. I love you F.R.I.E.N.D.S, forever and ever. You are inseparable part of my life. 

1. You always stick for the people we fog :)

. video

2. Make a continuum.


3. I love her, I adore her. I relate to her the most; I am obsessive about cleanliness, compulsive and pretty much everything.  


4. Rehearse it, funny man :)


5. We know, we know, we know :)


6. My most favourite character, and you are about to know why, he is everything a girl could ever ask for. Plus a great sense of humor and witty remarks so a delight he is :) 


7. Our little ones :)

8. O mommy o daddy :)


9.  a paper, snow, a ghost


Friday, March 27, 2015

Crazy Cubes

One may feel of me as stupid. But this is how love supposes to be. Right? Stupid and some real one said. Oh Yes!!  I believe them who said.  

He is still holding my whole in his arms as I write; his eyes penetrating my notepad. He is amused of my writing. Not that of mocking, but he finds amusing my love for him. He cannot understand and I cannot blame him if he does not. I had chosen him because he doesn't understand my love at all. I love to whisper over and over below his lips that I love him. And well!! He is still in the stage when one figures out, "why so?" And I cannot explain him. How could? My love sees no reason...No words...No number….You can name it as number crunch or word crunch...Whatever!! Huhhh..

If you are still hooked on my words, my love…..

Do you remember the very first day of ours?  The one touchwood. I know that you remember. When I held your reflection first time through my twisted eyes at the old bookshop of neighborhood where I could find anything humble to my pocket money, I smiled to you. It is not that I know you. But can't stranger smile to each other? Such a odd normal.   For me, no, it is not. I do it all the time. In the train. On the road. For the neighbors. For even postman, for even guard bhaiya… I do smile.

My entire world stopped as my fanatic search ended with you and yours with mine (I believe so). And the day went roughly along with our first date. The rough heat of crazy summer and sweat on my gloomy face.  Did you find me as your perfect date?

And how odd our first date was…No ambience...No classic music..No royal chairs… No rainbow umbrella..No coca cola….No lassi..No waiter on our head. And thankfully, no tips. Just your glossy smooth skin, yours anecdotes….yours colorful words...your translucent vibe... your distinct aura...your puzzled look….my blues and your rays….

The days...of Criss-corss we played..of Word-shuffle, we held our hands on …….of rare meanings, we mocked...analyzing yours every syllable which initially I found wonderful albeit above par my excel. But my real delight and your patience with me..…morose and dry of mine...and most enchanting of yours……Are we made for each other? Do you think so?

Do you remember the day when I closed my room door and shut all open windows. I could not stand against the fight outside melting into my blood and screaming, "It is your own blood. It is your own blood." I cannot stand against the blood pressure. But I was unfazed of the shouting, the bitterness of outside, the retaliation of outside....As I always had you. To confine, to crack down, to cry on and to smile away. And to my most surprise, you never run away. You were always there for me.

Still I remember your first gift "Tom cruise poster." I was happy not because of that then I owned Tom Cruise. I was happy that even for a day, you thought of mine and just of mine. Your first gift is still safe in my childhood belongings with ours other possession...our childhood, our carefree attitude and our hustle bustle.

Soon I realized it is not easy to live with you. You are quite unpredictable. And full of life and dreams. I love you for that only. Right…So what I love you?  I have no desire to hold you as my most prized trophy. I never had any dream, not even a pinch. 

Oh!! I can not stop myself. There are so much of you in me. My riches. And now I open it with you when they are asking. Asking me of my stage…."In which stage does your love belong to?" Stage for my love as if I can make algorithm of it. Crazy theme, I must say. As if they want to count iteration up to I reached. As if they can run a while loop...If it is so, is there any infinity loop to my amusement?  Do they really expect me to do so?  

Is not that enough? He smiles in me and I in him. He tells me of his mischief at his workplace ...His culinary experience….his world tour experience…of cubic patterns….of philosophy..of his love of numbers.. of sky diving....his larger than life quotes…I just smile and sometime I laugh too. He likes that I laugh. He likes to make me laugh. This is how love supposes to be. Right...

And I wait here for him knowing that at least once a month, he will come to catch my breath, to puzzle my fingers in his own. At least once in a month. 

This is all I expect. 
This is all I demand. Of yours. Of your gesture. Of your love…O’ my reader's digest!!

Pure Script:- Who said, Love is expensive, I purchased my first reader digest in just 5 rs. at kabadiwalas....just that it was old one.  But in love, age doesn't matter. Nothing else matters. What says? huhh

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Aakdu yadein

What’s your story!!

You are special. You paint the wall; you fill colour in black-and-white life. You sing a song, rock the world. You entertain the world. You are amazing and you do amazing things. You are an artist. We believe in you but does the world know about it. Tell your story with mytobby. Your story!!
Write to us @ will publish best 5 story with your credentials and everything. Who knows what’s

Tuesday, March 10, 2015


Brimming he was in first light, smiled preciously thinking of the day ahead. His geometrical perfect square shape looked breaking all the collinear points of existence. He hoped secretly that he could be parallel to her notions. While brushing, he smiled in mirror as if he was smiling to her reflection and showed his red tongue tingling with fresh air. Plain yoghurt & carrots full on plate countered his voracious diet but his stomach was still churning, it was unusual. 

There is something new in his attitude. Something suspicious. Something is playing a ting tong into his mind. At the same time. Always. As if somebody has set up a biological clock into hIS mind. Something he can’t recall what is that? As though green caterpillar is slowly making motions in his veins. As though Honeybee is stinging on his palms. Or butterflies are yelling at him. "You should ask her. You should ask her". You can’t get away without this. Without asking such a significant one. A significant question. 

"I must ask her. I must ask her." He reiterated to himself as if his words will telepathically reach to her ears. Transmission, rather a disloyal slave of frequencies.

She should be sleeping at this time. He is aware of her method. A prescribed set of modus operandi. She is control freak, in his terms even if it is boring...he loves her methodology, perhaps it is all he had..

She must be sleeping at this time. Even fully awakened she ignored his question, sleeping mind is ten thousand dollar bet, he lost in his own. But this is conundrum, he must solve it. Not for her statement, but for his sound sleep. He spent at least twenty nights out of total two months untitled acquaintance. Calculations are mysterious phenomenon of needs but translucent one, allowing a distinct image in his mind. His analytic can’t be wrong even if sounds selfish. 

At last he approach her. Her most poignant voice. A standard one, "tell me", and a very standard one - her pitch. It carries no emotions at all, contrast to that that she loves emoticons. 

He gathered all courage of universe, and straight saw in her forlorn eyes, unexpected of outcome, he settled for his question and asked finally -"Ham chloromint kyun khate hai?"

P.S. - It is all work of fiction. Dreams don’t fall into category of Non-fiction. Right!! Oops!! Didn't I tell you it was a dream? 

Thursday, March 5, 2015


Why am I sometimes so much passionate and sometimes I feel I am devoid of any. Sometimes nothing makes sense to me and sometimes that everything is a part of puzzle that fits together, it has to. Sometimes I just want to keep curtail down and wish that sun doesn't fall on me and sometimes I go out, soak all the sun I could in a bit of time and wish sun never sets on me. Sometimes I am in love so much and sometimes I feel like I never loved any. Sometimes I wish I can talk endless and sometimes all I carve is loneliness. Sometimes I wish I could be with myself when I am in crowd, and sometimes I wish I be in crowd and not feel anything. I want to defeat the odd, stand and deliver the best I can, and the very next moment I wonder does it even matter. I want to raise my voice, and other time I think why even bother? I accept the life as it is and suddenly another thought come across my mind, "it's not what you are". Sometime it's crystal clear and damn, it's confusing the very next moment. 

I am just another contradiction. 

#lifesucks #lifeisbeautiful #yuk #aaha 

Monday, February 23, 2015

The rise of an artist

Hitler had a hobby, drawing. With the dream of being an artist, he migrated to Vienna to get admission in Vienna Academy of Fine Arts. Alas!! The horror. He couldn’t pass the exam. He always had a violent streak as told by his near ones . Decade later he rose to power, power that leaded to genocide and World War 2. Instead of shaping great paintings, he shaped horrible history.
Now point is that: Given the right platform and outlet for his creativity, who knows what he might have achieved in the world of art and beauty!! And the history would have written has the rise of an artist instead of the rise of Adolf Hitler.
What mytobby does is trying to create a better future for art and culture. In the beginning of civilization, people had nothing better to do than hunt or cook so they fought with each other. But now we do have. We have all the great resources and technology.
With mytobby, you can monetize your talent, your outstanding creativity. You can evaluate yourself with us. Post your work and get potential leads, qualified lead. Start small, think big. intends to give a platform to artists and all form of arts. Enjoy browsing and posting ads in relevant categories. Check it out here :
Browse all categories available at -
How can you be part of it, read here :

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Duck Day

Day 1: 

Ephemeral, his impression. She was dazzled by his intricacy. Simple and layered. Layered like pi.

Day 2:

She wonder what her eyes caught first, his intriguing syllables or the font or numbers playing cloy. 

Day 3:

A temptation to gauge his eyes. 

Day 4:

She knows his passion. He cuts wood to build up abacus.

Day 5:

She holds a hair of his eyebrow.

Day 6:

His fingers repose on a chair. proud posture and snoistulating smile. She smiled to his eyes. She kissed her palms.  She embraced his aroma. 

Day 9:

He felt, she is an intrusion. 
He drew a puzzle called “right or wrong.” She didn't buy his words.  He didn't buy her fascination. 


She is clumsy. She is the craziest one. He is calm like a stagnant water. But he hates her. Her guts. Her madness. He is made at her.  She was no height, no job after all. 

Day 364:

She yelled, “I told  you and you judged me.” He yelled back, "you mean nothing to me." 

Day 365 :

A lattice window, french wine and red eyes. Life is beautiful, otherwise!!