Its Ecstasy

Its sweating, sun is blind,
that look is torturing
and the mind is bind;
even the slightest wind blowing
will be one of a kind.

Not even a word was spoken,
and eye contact has broken.
Pearls of disappointment
ran through my face
was a small resentment
where expectations failed.
Mirth blew off with full zest
sweet breeze filled my chest
Love smiled, divinity at its best!

Time gets cold, relationships too,
when those surprises folds, that instance
Ebullition bangs to and fro
But a brief hindrance
a curve settles in, peculiar minutes few
breaks your sinew, is that silence…..

-Shreenidhi Rajkumar

Priorities matter..

When you go ahead full of dreams and hopes, out of yourself and situations, you certainly come across people who would always try to push you back. They’ll put in their best efforts to suppress and will like you to get drowned.

In this case, what all you need is to say, BUZZ OFF!

Let them try, and never succeed. What I’ve learnt in my course of experiencing work life as well as social pathway along sofar, your priorities matter. What matters to you, matters the most. What affects you is absolutely in your control.

If you’re really good, this selfish world shall struggle to make you a part, but still if you aren’t satisfied with the world, that ultimately reflects back to you. It’s how perfect you strive to be, the more efficient you are, the more desirable you’re gonna prove yourself.

Moreover, why to be desirable when you yourself can inculcate that space! Being an entrepreneur of your living is better than everything.

Okay, this is all what neither I had to preach somebody nor make myself a counsellor, its exactly like kids practice writing the answers before attempting the exam.

So, to all the under confident people who have lost belief in themselves, buck up and follow the simple straight path of priorities.

Torments of the damned


Great! Well done. Just when I was wondering that it’s been a long time since no sensational rape hit the mass media and then just the next moment BAM! Another hit. Proud of you Indians. A 33 year old woman was raped by a man who entered her house with an excuse of a property deal and devilish intentions. Behold, because the funny part is yet to come. After the offender was arrested a protest was staged in front of the station demanding proper investigation. You must be wondering “why would people be protesting for someone’s justice?” Seriously!? Why do you need to think when the answer is obvious, he got a surname. His brother, Shashikant Shinde of the NCP  is the Water Resources Minister of Maharashtra. HA! He is arrested! what a  funny joke.

I have something inside which I want to vomit. I like to express, I Talk, I speak, I write but right now I want to spit. I want to shit out all the muck deposited inside my head for this garbage society and their piece-of-shit mentality. I hate to be part of hypocrisy, I hate this live among these savages but mostly I hate the follower and preacher of this rotten culture, which are YOU. Yes you! You the vermin fantasizing about any random women, neighbor, classmate, friend or even maybe your far related cousin and masturbating in your pants silently and hoping that one day you too will follow the glorious footsteps of your self-appointed agents of disorder in their inglorious acts. Hold your resentment before saying that you are not one of “them” and answer just my single question, if you are not one of “them” have you done anything to stop “them”? apart from setting restrictions on your women. You must have felt slender pride while reading and when I said “your women”, obviously, why not! After all you “own them” hmmm? THIS is what makes you one of “them”, having the same mentality, thinking that having a dick gives you a licence to control them, rule them and leave them when done.


You stinking prick think that when a women comes to your house, takes your surname and takes care of your well-being that they are some toy to play with, a chewing gum to chew and then spit! Actually it’s not your fault; you were raised this way: like an animal, so naturally your thinking will be animal-like, the fault is theirs to think that all man are humans. You disgusting cockroach think that when a girl is drunk then she is all yours to thieve but again it’s not your fault, you should have been shot dead the moment you were born, it is definitely her fault; to think that by being beautiful and having a loving heart will make her friends, preposterous.

“Go and enjoy” that is what was said by tribal leader before gang rape victim was tied to tree and assaulted in front of whole village for having an affair with Muslim. This January this happened in Suri, West Bengal. You must have forgotten about it but you did you part right, you saw this in ‘sansani’ then posted a FB status, counted the number of likes then moved on. Haven’t you? Like I said that all these shameless actions are not consequence of the narrow mentality it is just a part of the culture which we all are, unknowingly, unintentionally brooding under our waists. Stop running from it and try to stop it. And if you are one who cry to gods for every woes then take my word, our gods are pussies, they are either busy getting their dick worshiped or bored of saving women from getting stripped. My uproar is that the gods failed this world. We need someone more impactful, we need someone evil; we need the devil. And the interesting thing about it is that no one can be god but anyone can be devil. So when you find yourself locked up with an unpleasant group of savages awake the devil-within and make them encounter the pain of their balls being chocked off and leave them to die in a gutter the place they they belong.


Alien Love

Would you hold me through the night,
to make me feel everything’s alright ?
Would you care to come and hold me,
till God sets both of us free ?

Would you stay right here,
even if all you see is tears ?
Would you sotfly kiss my cheeks,
to tell me your loves’ peak ?

Would both of us walk together,
and love each other forever ?
Would both of us stay like this,
even if the sky falls down on us ?

Would you dance with me in the rain,
to make my hopeless day free of pain ?
Would you look into my eyes,
and forgive me if I ever lied ?

Would you ever break my heart,
or tear away that Valentine’s Card ?
Would you cry for me when I die,
To tell me your love wasn’t dry ?

Sikkim and the legends


Sikkim and the legends

Sikkim, the second smallest state of India, concealed by the Himalayas and edged by the peripheral countries like China, Bhutan and Nepal, is one of the fastest growing states of India has 11 official languages but most spoken here is Nepali. The diverse beauty of Sikkim ranges from plains to wildlife centuries to crags to peaks but sheltered by enormous Kanchenjunga having a watch over its every progeny, like a god, meditating peacefully, but will shed his rage on malevolent.
This pristine solitude of this god’s abode can eliminate all qualms from the mind, purifies one from the leeches of city-life crisis and melt away the macabre site of innumerable condescending mocking eyes. Most and best of all people here love peace and are very friendly bit shy although but charming, especially girls here are so damn cute (‘guglle-wooglee-woosh’ cute). And for the people with ‘high’ intentions; here alcohol is very cheap  and if someone wants to junk on adrenaline then here is an amazing deal: Sikkim-Bhutan trek, 20 days trek with hiking and trekking (my jaw dropped when I heard about it the first time) apart from that there are some small trek routes also. In short; this place deserves to be in your bucket list.


Major Harbhajan Singh was an Indian soldier who died near Nathu la paas in Sikkim who is reverberated as “hero of Sikkim” and army men have built a shrine in his honour. Legend stories contain some supernatural sightings of him still doing his duty on the snowy land, it is said that he warns the army days prior any attack. He is entitled with “baba” and said that he protects every soldier stationed on to the fields. During flag meetings between the two nations at Nathula, the Chinese set a chair aside to honour of Harbhajan Singh who has since been saint. He was awarded the Maha vir chakra for his bravery in 1967.
True or not but Nathula is one place one need to see in Sikkim.

Travel tips
-Sikkim is very rich in flora and fauna so one must also plan for village tourism
-Singalila trek, Snadakphu trek (one of the best treks)
-North Sikkim, for natural beauties.
-Namchi: temples
-Gangtok: Mg road, Sikkim fest, Nathula paas.

P.S. – If I were superman I’ll choose my fortress of solitude on these mountains only
P.P.S. – I love momos.
Below is the video and photographs by me, please watch, if possible in high resolution.




nothing can beat this, Darjeeling tea


Help is never small.




nourishing light



Ghost of the white.


Cherry blossom





Will to stand



Kanchenjunga: the god’s watcher.




Brave soldiers clearing the way.


Just like a waving flag.



Shitlist 2013: World


1. Shitofied


Yes, we all know what happened but what if I tell you that there is something we don’t know! For instance, what was in her mind before doing ^that? I’ll tell you.
Inside Miley’s mind:

“  I am like…umm…bored. People think I am like ‘cute’…becoz yoo know…they are like ‘people’..duhh… but I can also be.. yoo know… slutty! So why don’t be slutty? YA! why not… YOLO!
Lets see…hmmm… first prepare a check list. Booty shaking, slutty expressions, skin color bikini…would it be enough?…hmm…NAAH! lets just raise the shit with a lap dance..then whaat?… oh yes, TONGUE! Will be like cherry on the ass (LOL)…what if I do something on stage which I am doing right now?…why not and with a BIGGER finger!…yeah baby…ill be popular and… yoo know… more rich.. B) … but WAIT! What about DAD? What will he say? …huff, desperate times need desperate measures, yeahh!… FUCK DAD!….YOLO”

And that piece of thought just made a day historic and a father sad, very very sad.




showing your ass doesn’t make you talented.



After watching that Aloknath locked up himself and cried for days. Poor man.

2. Gangs of Shitteypur.



The whole scenario:

(Imagine it being narrated in the voice of Nasir [Gangs of Wasseypur] and for extra effects its my request click the link below and play it while you read)



“Footballers are of only two types, one is corrupt and other is stupid. And this whole league is of only these two. And when a corrupt falls down to stupidity or a stupid becomes a pond of corruption you can never know. But the story of Premier league is bit tilted, from outside it looks a field of law abiding players and if you enter then it is only corrupt and wicked on the top. And what is happening now is a different story but while they were on top they was no less than kings. This tussle was not started yesterday it is been longing from history, and in premier league this fight was not even of countries here everyone was football lovers. This fight was of United ones and others. Story is still going but started when football was introduced in English land and when Sir Alex Ferguson joined ManU and when he was not ‘sir’”






“But the rebel was started by Luis Suarez, he indulged in heavy word fight with Evra then refused to even shake hands but he was still on the top goal scorer list. Until his aggression was fully flushed on Ivanovic by biting him and finally ended up with penalty of 10 match ban”



Suarez banned for 10 matches.


“yaad teri aayegi, mujhko bada shatayegi” Liverpool fans



shout, you motherfucker.



Its all about who creates more noise.


3. the Ass and the hole.



Alert: little children and pregnant women close your eyes. NOW.

Because every Shitlist is incomplete without his presence.
Look at this face, don’t be mislead, he is a boy, and moreover a jerk.

And now since you have seen his face so now (and I am terribly sorry for this) see his ass.



 This is what he tweeted supposedly as a prank. (are you F@#king kidding me) And got over 86,000 likes for that?! apocylypse. The question is still hanging “Why is he still alive??” no I am not going to do anything, but who am I to stop Tyson. GO! GO TYSON! BITE HIS EAR!





If Bieber is a superhero than can you guess what would his superpower be? No its not singing and killing people, its just too obvious, it is spitting on the fans. Why?? Because no other normal person can do this. And you call him an artist *scoff*


Well said Ozzy


Being a human being, I believe it’s our moral responsibility to stop him before he multiplies or lay eggs. I am just waiting for the day he lay a foot in a metal concert and no need to explain rest.


4. Social trends?


The growing social trends are now becoming a pain for me and if they are not to you than you are one of them who are spreading it. What trends?

Foodstagram: I am a 20 year old man and for three meals every day this means I am lagging by 20x365x3= 21900  instagram posts, I need to catch up fast. So from now on I’ll post two pictures per meal.

Hashtags: hashtag is nothing but a universal flag for attention seekers. I don’t give shit about attention whores #maakiaankh

.   2014-FIFA-World-Cup-Final-Draw-2898117

Harlem shake: thank god it finally ended, who liked them anyways apart from the people acting in them

Keep Calm meme: “keep calm and sleep” was my wallpaper for weeks until I realised that whole internet was flooding with them.

Its just to tell you all that we don’t give a shit.




On Love

I have been told I blabber.

Behold my rantings.

What is love?

In all its intricacies and fallacies, is it just another lie that some poet cooked up in an opium- fueled haze of half-remembered encounters and distorted emotions? Or is it a primordial song that man learned to sway to when he was still a newborn suckling at the breast of Mother Nature?

The movies would have you believe in spontaneous violins and rose petals gently blowing in the wind. The genre of romance is the most milked in all of arts.

I have been in love- or something pretty close. And more than just a few times. And I believe I am in a position to describe the feeling of being in love as- ‘Meh’.

The notion itself is, at best, overrated. The experience is nothing like the hype you are led to believe in.
I may sound cynical. Of course I am. It would be a surprise if you keep smiling after receiving an unexpected spiritual piledriver. My experiences in love have left me a cynical, bitter soul. Much like the old, senile man who chases after kids with an unloaded, unlicensed gun. But then, that’s just me.


Love is nothing. There is no love. Just a word. No idea. No feeling. It is a marketing strategy. A weapon to fool the money out of your pockets. Love is the result of a lot of capitalists ganging up and coming up with an amalgamation of shitty ideas to sell their consumerism to your face. You don’t love anybody. You are being tricked into thinking that you can feel love.

Love your family?

Just a moral obligation.

Love your pet?

Those fuckers are cute as hell. Still not love.

Love your porn collection?


My point is the idea that is being sold under the misnomer of love is obsolete. You don’t need love when you can get your way with a little violence. You don’t need love to get laid. You don’t need love to order a pizza.
All the little things in life are better without love.

Eros be damned.

Disclaimer: This is, as is mentioned above, just a rant. Not to be taken seriously. No purpose. No reason. I’ll chalk it up to pressure from the higher management.

The Murderer, The Moron And The Mutineer

Vishal Dadlani recently tweeted, ‘Stuck between a moron and a murderer…what now, India!?’. This was infamously retweeted by Arvind Kejriwal. Now, Mr. Dadlani is hardly the go-to guy when it comes to matters of national importance but his tweet does bring forth the stark reality and denudes it for all to see.

It is the simple truth.

None of the contenders for the throne of the prime minister of India- officiated or projected or deluded- can be said to truly deserve the scepter.

The Rightists have their leader. And he has risen through the minds of the highly gullible Indians with his charisma alone. Mr. Narendra Modi is a great leader. Soaring speeches, thunderous applause, a herd of sheep that can rival the likes of Jesus Christ. However, ‘Feku Man’ has so far failed to put forward a single solid agenda that he can build his campaign on. Milking religion will only get him a throng of people shouting his name, but it won’t make him responsible enough to be given the biggest office in the country. Of course, there is always Gujarat. Of course, it has developed. It wasn’t that hard since it was completely razed to the ground once. He did build a completely new Gujarat with corpses in its foundations and watered it with blood. I shall not dwell on history. What’s done is done. What is to be realized is running a state is completely different from running a nation. Just because he completely turned around a state in three terms does not mean he can do the same with the country. Even if he can, it is the basic right of the common people to know how. The Rightists have their leader, sure, but they have no battle plan. And no army can win a war just because they have a good general.

The Centrists, on the other hand, may or may not have a battle plan- it does not really matter. They ride into battle but sans a general. They are bound to fall apart. Sure, they will choose a leader sooner or later, but it is already too late. The rifts among their men are conspicuously visible. One of their top choices for their leader has a reputation for being blissfully unaware of the country and everything else in general. He is nothing more than a laughing stock. There are rumors of his little, or even non-existent education. The suspiciously vague information on his Wikipedia page does not help at all (I won’t be bothered to research any further. Please feel free to enlighten me in the comments section). Unless the Centrists come up with someone who has more charisma than Modi, and preferably can work miracles, there is no chance that they can win which would mean our next Prime Minister will be a man that political psychologist Ashis Nandy once called a “textbook fascist”.

Unless, of course, the revolutionaries bring about another, way more surprising revolution than their last one. Arvind Kejriwal proved himself to be a force to reckon with and then quickly went ahead to implode. For the first time in the history of ever the Chief Minister of a state, the NCR no less, sat on the road protesting something that he could have comfortably done as the Chief Minister, you know. Old habits die hard I guess. I have talked, or rather just listened, to people who spewed and spat about how Arvind Kejriwal is the best man to run the nation because, you know, ‘Aam Aadmi’ and all. And all I could see were ‘dharnas’ and ‘anshans’ across the country.

Yes, Mr. Dadlani, I am confused. As would be anyone who bothers to sit down and think for a moment.

What now, India?

A Love Letter To Bhopal

I have spent the past few years of my life in a city that is known for its lakes. And we are quite enamored by our lakes; to the point of the city’s culture itself thriving around those watery cradles.
Being where I was, it comes as a surprise- to me- that I have not written about any of that. I am not qualified enough; I know I have not spent much time here or read the city like some intellectuals have done before me. I never even quite considered myself a denizen as much as I thought of myself as ghost who wandered into a strange land- an outsider who was made to feel at home, rather forcibly.

There is something about nature. She holds you still and makes you look at her; and when she lets go, you are changed. Ever so gently, she wakes something inside you; a child that got lost somewhere in the labyrinth of adulthood, or traveler who could never leave his four-walled prison. She holds his hand and picks him up. She dances with him- a slow, sensuous waltz to the rhythm of a cool breeze and the harmony of a small bird. You do not realize what’s happening until you reach a certain climax and you are face with what could only be an epiphany of sorts. Unfortunately, instead of savoring this moment of absolute bliss you foolishly move on.
I live conveniently placed at a stone’s throw from two water bodies. I would not go into their objective beauty, nor would I delve into their mass appeal. However, as someone who has spent quite a few of his evenings watching the sun drown into blood-red water and who has skipped his fair share of stones over the tranquil, glassy surface of a pond- I think I have the right reminisce about the city that made me a poet; even more so, for I may never come back again.

Crowded it is, undoubtedly, any day but you can find your spot and settle down. It is not hard to shut out the squalor and squabble of the gentry. Not hard to build your own little piece of heaven.

Of course, the squalor is half the charm. The crowded, sweaty streets of the old town where history itself sits down for a nice plate of poha-jalebi; the wide(r) avenues of the new city; the lakes; the dams; the people- all of it juxtaposed against each other in a charmingly haphazard manner. The chaos provides a stark contrast to the lazy pace at which the city itself moves. It breathes in long, cool breezes as if enjoying a picturesque summer evening on one of its quintessential lake shore. The city lives to love.


They told me it wasn’t worth the blood

They said I’ll fall and blunder;

I walked into the ocean

To see if I’ll drown-

I fell onto the earth and

Stood up to see I didn’t bruise.

And the sky trembled beneath

The ground I tread upon;

And men hailed and bowed

The god they built in flesh-

I looked down upon my hands

And all I saw was a void.