To whomsoever it may concern
All the people I met and those I befriended
All the memories that were lived and which will remain and kill
All the ideas which clicked and those which were kicked
All the women I loved and those who should have been loved
All the places I traveled and those thoroughly explored
All the experiences worth recounting and that deserve reliving.
All the movies I watched and those which subconsciously I did record.
All the cups of Tea I consumed and liquids for which my mind tuned
All the cricket matches watched and those keenly analyzed
All the songs that I heard by chance and which later forced a dance
All the personalities who inspired and hearts like mine which aspired
All the books which I understood and which I thought I could
All the jokes that perfectly tickled and which drastically toppled
All the money that was earned and those which pops earned
All the impulsive negativity vented out and those humbly conquered
All the rides which made me a dare-devil and the pillion-riders who showed will
All the good life tasted and precious time wasted
To my parents.
All my friends, cousins, relatives and teachers
Thanks a lot, for being a part of this 25 year journey.
My life would have been incomplete had it not been for you.
With you around, life was beautiful and will remain indeed!
- ‘Shanky’ Shankar
June 4th, 2010
P.S: Well, might just sound a bit exaggerated but I guess I don't turn 25 every year.
So thought should thank all those who made all these 25 years a special time to live
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Saturday, August 1, 2009
THE KING OF GOOD TIMES
THE KING OF GOOD TIMES (Poetry)
Few displayed Valour and strength; while the others exorbitant Riches
Few their vast empire and army; while the others their collection of wives
Thousand years back, were kings who lured to win over the bride beauty in the swayamvara
And since then generations after generations followed this alluring phenomena
Not exactly but actually the reincarnation of swayamvara
Not the exorbitant Riches but Creative strategies; Not the Wives but the Brand success
Not the Kings but the Corporate; Not the Beauty bride but Target audience
Gutenberg, Marconi, Nicephore, Zworykin not in their wildest dreams
Would have thought or dreamt of this stretch to extremes
One has to admit life has always been the survival of the fittest
It’s the battle between corporate- for more space, at least there is no bloodshed
From Black & White to Color; From Arts to technology
From Propaganda to Persuasion; From Producers to Consumers
Out of million species, humans have been unique
Amongst million corporate, a brand needs something unique
Call it Mystical-Magical Manipulation; Call it Evolution-continuing Information
Call it greedy intentions; Call it out-of-the box ideation
We call it Advertising!
- Shankar S
Few displayed Valour and strength; while the others exorbitant Riches
Few their vast empire and army; while the others their collection of wives
Thousand years back, were kings who lured to win over the bride beauty in the swayamvara
And since then generations after generations followed this alluring phenomena
Not exactly but actually the reincarnation of swayamvara
Not the exorbitant Riches but Creative strategies; Not the Wives but the Brand success
Not the Kings but the Corporate; Not the Beauty bride but Target audience
Gutenberg, Marconi, Nicephore, Zworykin not in their wildest dreams
Would have thought or dreamt of this stretch to extremes
One has to admit life has always been the survival of the fittest
It’s the battle between corporate- for more space, at least there is no bloodshed
From Black & White to Color; From Arts to technology
From Propaganda to Persuasion; From Producers to Consumers
Out of million species, humans have been unique
Amongst million corporate, a brand needs something unique
Call it Mystical-Magical Manipulation; Call it Evolution-continuing Information
Call it greedy intentions; Call it out-of-the box ideation
We call it Advertising!
- Shankar S
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Where are you my rain
WHERE ARE YOU MY RAIN?
Where are you my rain?
Where are you my joy? Where are you my innocence?
For have you forgotten few years back in your presence
We rejoiced even going back to school with effervescence.
You command so much respect that whenever there was that shower
Our school obliged by closing down; what a rare opportunity to enjoy nature.
Where are you my rain?
Where are you my joy? Where are you my freedom?
Sipping hot coffee, dancing to an Imaginary song would have never been fun
Just like how bland the winter experience would be without the sun.
And how can I ever forget all those silly romantic stories
Weren’t you the one I loved before those gorgeous, lovely ladies?
Where are you my rain?
Where are you my joy? Where are you?
Awaiting to kiss you are all those tired voluptuous women.
And our fathers on their bed, who only to see you have requested death to postpone.
If our heroes and villains fought against each other with you.
Our heroines have been seducing all of us feeling the passionate you.
Then where are you my rain?
Where are you my joy? Where are you my…
My…Wait a second, I haven’t thought of this…are you angry with the world’s elements?
But…do you have an internal battle with the suns or are you sad with us humans?
Hmmm…I think, I realize the reason behind this dry water evaporation
God knows how many creatures have suffered because of us, God’s intelligent creation.
I am even ashamed to crib, cry, crave as even I am one among them.
Unfortunately, there are volumes of pages in science to support my statement
For now you are gone and I wouldn’t ask for you - I believe, know the reason
Oh my Love, in my heart with grief, for you, I build a tombstone
Tears full of blood i weap and there shall be no more rain for any redemption
- Shankar S
26/6/9
Where are you my rain?
Where are you my joy? Where are you my innocence?
For have you forgotten few years back in your presence
We rejoiced even going back to school with effervescence.
You command so much respect that whenever there was that shower
Our school obliged by closing down; what a rare opportunity to enjoy nature.
Where are you my rain?
Where are you my joy? Where are you my freedom?
Sipping hot coffee, dancing to an Imaginary song would have never been fun
Just like how bland the winter experience would be without the sun.
And how can I ever forget all those silly romantic stories
Weren’t you the one I loved before those gorgeous, lovely ladies?
Where are you my rain?
Where are you my joy? Where are you?
Awaiting to kiss you are all those tired voluptuous women.
And our fathers on their bed, who only to see you have requested death to postpone.
If our heroes and villains fought against each other with you.
Our heroines have been seducing all of us feeling the passionate you.
Then where are you my rain?
Where are you my joy? Where are you my…
My…Wait a second, I haven’t thought of this…are you angry with the world’s elements?
But…do you have an internal battle with the suns or are you sad with us humans?
Hmmm…I think, I realize the reason behind this dry water evaporation
God knows how many creatures have suffered because of us, God’s intelligent creation.
I am even ashamed to crib, cry, crave as even I am one among them.
Unfortunately, there are volumes of pages in science to support my statement
For now you are gone and I wouldn’t ask for you - I believe, know the reason
Oh my Love, in my heart with grief, for you, I build a tombstone
Tears full of blood i weap and there shall be no more rain for any redemption
- Shankar S
26/6/9
Thursday, June 18, 2009
An ode to my best friend (Poetry)
An ode to my best friend
Owww you wonderful…
Is this life enough to thank you full.
In moments of grace and disgrace
Without any difference you did embrace.
I shared thoughts, apprehensions and attitude
Unhesitant you bowed down, listened making me pay gratitude.
Although you couldn’t cry when I did; you offered me you.
Although you couldn’t laugh when I did; I know you knew.
You lend a patient ear to my ideas and allowed me to explain
When the entire world rejected never permitting them to sustain.
In these days of cynicism and hypocrisy
Bending views is also considered holy.
But you my friend are no doubt a pure mirror
I write me in you, to come after ages to see myself without any smear.
Boy! I must say you also are one hecka-of-a dictionary.
Much in need for writers like me who have a bad reading history.
All these years although I used to everyday see you
Not even the best of prediction did say the greatest amongst friends would be you.
Always you communicate heart-to-heart, word-to-word.
Thanks for everything Dearest Windows Microsoft Word.
You are no doubt my open book
- Shankar S.
18/6/9
Owww you wonderful…
Is this life enough to thank you full.
In moments of grace and disgrace
Without any difference you did embrace.
I shared thoughts, apprehensions and attitude
Unhesitant you bowed down, listened making me pay gratitude.
Although you couldn’t cry when I did; you offered me you.
Although you couldn’t laugh when I did; I know you knew.
You lend a patient ear to my ideas and allowed me to explain
When the entire world rejected never permitting them to sustain.
In these days of cynicism and hypocrisy
Bending views is also considered holy.
But you my friend are no doubt a pure mirror
I write me in you, to come after ages to see myself without any smear.
Boy! I must say you also are one hecka-of-a dictionary.
Much in need for writers like me who have a bad reading history.
All these years although I used to everyday see you
Not even the best of prediction did say the greatest amongst friends would be you.
Always you communicate heart-to-heart, word-to-word.
Thanks for everything Dearest Windows Microsoft Word.
You are no doubt my open book
- Shankar S.
18/6/9
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
My Experiment with Experience
THE KAMAL HASSAN INTERNATIONAL SCREEN-WRITING WORKSHOP
1600 Applicants - 250 short-listed candidates. 5 day workshop and 1 day seminar…which means one week with the Padmashri, Doctorate-holder, Universal Star ( hate this title…sounds like a bakery name) ….the legend of Kamal Hassan. And alongside would be all the renowned script-writers, screen-writers and how can one forget all the stalwarts of Indian cinema, who as guests, would pop-up often now and then. The workshop was conducted from the 29th May to 3rd June at the IIT-M, Chennai. After finding my name in the privileged list, suddenly it felt like life again, as if I had been dead for 1 year and had just woken up to see Shankar S, Secunderabad flashing in the selected-list. It indeed was a City moment of success (The IPL was on then when the list was displayed).
On the 29th Morning, landed in the city of South-Indian culture and Sweats. The IIT-M was simply beautiful; spotted the spotted deer as soon as I entered and was struck with awe. The leaves from the trees, the serene silence, the chirping of the birds, the deer moving around- all put together was simply the ideal heaven for any naturalist or romantist. After discovering my accommodation in that huge campus and setting myself right in that congested meter room, I set forth to hit college one more time, perhaps one last time. When I saw few students flocking in front of the auditorium, my fickle mind pulled me back in memory, to the 16th August, 2006, the first day of coll. in Manipal. Still, fresh in some corner of my mind - all the first-time interaction and encounter with all those individuals, who for me would remain angels forever. While most angels stay physically around me (in diff. cities), a few left … doesn’t matter, all those moments might be dead but not in memory.
After all the preliminary checking at the entrance, the crowd was seen flowing towards the seminar hall door. Entered, to find the hall full with people almost like a mini-stadium. In the centre was a short, fair man with a beard, standing. It took me few seconds to realize it’s the man himself. Meanwhile my friend (Adithi Mathews) would push me forward forcing me to walk further to occupy the seat in the first row. It left me in tenter-hooks, as I just walked past the man who… (now we all know all; don’t we?).
Alongside him was Mr.Atul Tiwari, Script-writer of Mission Kashmir and various other films. He was important and special to me as he had adjudicated me winner of a short-film competition one year back… aneways nice to see him again.
On the dais were Mr. Anjum Rajabali ( Screen writer – Dhrohakaal, Ghulam and the Legend of Bhagat Singh…also teaches in FTTI, pune)
Mr. Hariharan ( Dir. of L.V Prasad Inst, Chennai.)
Mr. Atul Tiwari and The Big-Small man himself.
DAY- 1
“One can’t teach screen writing but one can definitely learn this art” started Mr. Anjum. No doubt, the immediate reaction amongst all the 250 students, would have been “What the ……?”. Anjum, a smart man and a brilliant orator which he is, backs it up talking about the reaction his earlier statement would have evoked amongst all of us, thus laying path to an excellent session of introduction. After 1 Hr, we would break for tea and would come back for an interesting session on the elements of screen-writing …the idea, the premise, the theme, the plot, the structure, the character …and specification on each means we are ready to break for lunch.
The lunch had the Vasantha Bhavan special. Never in my previous visits to VB, I ever imagined I would end up eating this goat’s favorite delicacy- the spl. Chennai Meal. Thanks to the Big-Small man, I ended up doing the unimaginable (No doubt the workshop was a success).
Post-lunch the session on the specification required while writing. Mr. Hariharan spoke about having a reality-based check when scripting. *Like listing out the Characters Name/ Age/Gender….. Parentage/Sibling/Family/Marital Status…..Language/ Social Status –precise….Qualify/ Aspiration…Artistic Skills….Friends/Work. Colleagues…etc.*
____This process can help a writer in getting to the point of specification and would throw clarity while doing scripting.___
Film-screening is mandatory in every film school and workshops and would roll after 6p.m
“At the water-front” was shown and boy wasn’t Ghulam a bad remake of this.
*Write to me or ask me if you want more details as in what more…I am 100 % ready to share with you this crucial piece of info.*
DAY-2
Was 10 mins late (Now Old-habits die hard, don’t they?). Somehow, found a seat for myself in some corner of that huge hall as plots, sub-plots were discussed. Different films were brought-in to understand plots and sub-plots and its significance in story-telling. Holding myself back, I listened to the different ideas which our budding screen-writers had. Must say, throughout the session Mr. Anjum would do very well to manage and put up with questions related to rocket-sciences. A doubt occurred and I raised my hands up in the air, the mike was handed over and I was in a flash surrounded by a photographer, cameraman, volunteer, it was so evocative that I nearly forgot the question I had in mind.
The Lunch came and went.
The Session post-lunch saw the Big-Small Man on stage. He threw the option to the audience to talk about one film of his. Our Tamil-tigers would not wait as they would grab the mike to ask him questions, trying to impress our Big-Small man with their self-acclaimed nuance observations. There was a rift developing in the auditorium between the Hindi’s and the Tamil’s, thanks to our Big-Small man’s multi-lingual skills he kept all the jokers at bay. The discussion was on “Hey Ram” and the man showed what an actor he is not just in reel but also on stage. (With no offence, as one of my friends puts it: The man knows that you know that he is a star)…he is a star…a super star indeed.
The film screened was Hritwik Ghatak’s “Meghe Dhaka Tara”
Ghatak, one of my fav’s; had seen the film for the second time and simply relished the cinematic treat. Much to my surprise, few of our budding screen-writers thought otherwise. Doesn’t matter; remember the dictum, “Opinions are like ass-holes, everyone has one” and our budding screen-writers definetly have more than one.
[Part-2 to be continued... ]
1600 Applicants - 250 short-listed candidates. 5 day workshop and 1 day seminar…which means one week with the Padmashri, Doctorate-holder, Universal Star ( hate this title…sounds like a bakery name) ….the legend of Kamal Hassan. And alongside would be all the renowned script-writers, screen-writers and how can one forget all the stalwarts of Indian cinema, who as guests, would pop-up often now and then. The workshop was conducted from the 29th May to 3rd June at the IIT-M, Chennai. After finding my name in the privileged list, suddenly it felt like life again, as if I had been dead for 1 year and had just woken up to see Shankar S, Secunderabad flashing in the selected-list. It indeed was a City moment of success (The IPL was on then when the list was displayed).
On the 29th Morning, landed in the city of South-Indian culture and Sweats. The IIT-M was simply beautiful; spotted the spotted deer as soon as I entered and was struck with awe. The leaves from the trees, the serene silence, the chirping of the birds, the deer moving around- all put together was simply the ideal heaven for any naturalist or romantist. After discovering my accommodation in that huge campus and setting myself right in that congested meter room, I set forth to hit college one more time, perhaps one last time. When I saw few students flocking in front of the auditorium, my fickle mind pulled me back in memory, to the 16th August, 2006, the first day of coll. in Manipal. Still, fresh in some corner of my mind - all the first-time interaction and encounter with all those individuals, who for me would remain angels forever. While most angels stay physically around me (in diff. cities), a few left … doesn’t matter, all those moments might be dead but not in memory.
After all the preliminary checking at the entrance, the crowd was seen flowing towards the seminar hall door. Entered, to find the hall full with people almost like a mini-stadium. In the centre was a short, fair man with a beard, standing. It took me few seconds to realize it’s the man himself. Meanwhile my friend (Adithi Mathews) would push me forward forcing me to walk further to occupy the seat in the first row. It left me in tenter-hooks, as I just walked past the man who… (now we all know all; don’t we?).
Alongside him was Mr.Atul Tiwari, Script-writer of Mission Kashmir and various other films. He was important and special to me as he had adjudicated me winner of a short-film competition one year back… aneways nice to see him again.
On the dais were Mr. Anjum Rajabali ( Screen writer – Dhrohakaal, Ghulam and the Legend of Bhagat Singh…also teaches in FTTI, pune)
Mr. Hariharan ( Dir. of L.V Prasad Inst, Chennai.)
Mr. Atul Tiwari and The Big-Small man himself.
DAY- 1
“One can’t teach screen writing but one can definitely learn this art” started Mr. Anjum. No doubt, the immediate reaction amongst all the 250 students, would have been “What the ……?”. Anjum, a smart man and a brilliant orator which he is, backs it up talking about the reaction his earlier statement would have evoked amongst all of us, thus laying path to an excellent session of introduction. After 1 Hr, we would break for tea and would come back for an interesting session on the elements of screen-writing …the idea, the premise, the theme, the plot, the structure, the character …and specification on each means we are ready to break for lunch.
The lunch had the Vasantha Bhavan special. Never in my previous visits to VB, I ever imagined I would end up eating this goat’s favorite delicacy- the spl. Chennai Meal. Thanks to the Big-Small man, I ended up doing the unimaginable (No doubt the workshop was a success).
Post-lunch the session on the specification required while writing. Mr. Hariharan spoke about having a reality-based check when scripting. *Like listing out the Characters Name/ Age/Gender….. Parentage/Sibling/Family/Marital Status…..Language/ Social Status –precise….Qualify/ Aspiration…Artistic Skills….Friends/Work. Colleagues…etc.*
____This process can help a writer in getting to the point of specification and would throw clarity while doing scripting.___
Film-screening is mandatory in every film school and workshops and would roll after 6p.m
“At the water-front” was shown and boy wasn’t Ghulam a bad remake of this.
*Write to me or ask me if you want more details as in what more…I am 100 % ready to share with you this crucial piece of info.*
DAY-2
Was 10 mins late (Now Old-habits die hard, don’t they?). Somehow, found a seat for myself in some corner of that huge hall as plots, sub-plots were discussed. Different films were brought-in to understand plots and sub-plots and its significance in story-telling. Holding myself back, I listened to the different ideas which our budding screen-writers had. Must say, throughout the session Mr. Anjum would do very well to manage and put up with questions related to rocket-sciences. A doubt occurred and I raised my hands up in the air, the mike was handed over and I was in a flash surrounded by a photographer, cameraman, volunteer, it was so evocative that I nearly forgot the question I had in mind.
The Lunch came and went.
The Session post-lunch saw the Big-Small Man on stage. He threw the option to the audience to talk about one film of his. Our Tamil-tigers would not wait as they would grab the mike to ask him questions, trying to impress our Big-Small man with their self-acclaimed nuance observations. There was a rift developing in the auditorium between the Hindi’s and the Tamil’s, thanks to our Big-Small man’s multi-lingual skills he kept all the jokers at bay. The discussion was on “Hey Ram” and the man showed what an actor he is not just in reel but also on stage. (With no offence, as one of my friends puts it: The man knows that you know that he is a star)…he is a star…a super star indeed.
The film screened was Hritwik Ghatak’s “Meghe Dhaka Tara”
Ghatak, one of my fav’s; had seen the film for the second time and simply relished the cinematic treat. Much to my surprise, few of our budding screen-writers thought otherwise. Doesn’t matter; remember the dictum, “Opinions are like ass-holes, everyone has one” and our budding screen-writers definetly have more than one.
[Part-2 to be continued... ]
Monday, June 8, 2009
PAGES FLIPPED (Poetry)
Haaa…Here I planted my base on the seat
It’s been a while, in fact the first since mornings nature sit.
A pungent smell pinched my nostril
Panned across to search for the citizen responsible.
Little did I realize I was the owner of those feet
Which could even spoil the moment of an Oscar winner’s feat
Far beside on a table were a bunch of papers and magazine
All stacked up for the officers who spent time gazing and looking.
Luckily, I found there none of those literate servants or anyone
Took a breath, put my chest out to imagine myself to be one.
Politics, Sports, Playboy all seemed to be the offerings of education.
I happily picked the playboy magazine, at least didn’t want to pretend in imagination.
The playboy magazine, which I flipped through
Looking for something, which in my wife was very few.
In fact, there were clothes so little
Just like my bosses who argued for the futile.
A glam-doll sipping some blue-colored drink was seen.
I could have served her that instead of serving these disgruntled humans tea.
A model posed with her right leg on a chair.
So I dreamt, why wasn’t I born that chair.
There was an ad which showed men queued up behind this hottie.
I wonder if this inspired my big boss to hire women of such quality.
Pages flipped and the model changed clothes.
Loving those animalistic poses amidst this corporate-jungle was a super dose.
The jaw dropping sleazy models tried mesmerizing blokes for some Show
Ow my god! Have to check on my sons TV habits when I reach back abode.
Soon some noise disturbed my thought flow.
It seemed someone been shouting at me at the top of their throat.
Turned sideways and contemplated Oh no not again!
The literate servant has some work ready for the illiterate slave.
Shankar S
(This is what i see everyday...imagined what would run through a office-boys mind, as he toils hard day and night without much appreciation from the hierarchy...so the poem is all about that one moment which he uses to free and unwind himself amidst the severe and rigid corporate world.)
Haaa…Here I planted my base on the seat
It’s been a while, in fact the first since mornings nature sit.
A pungent smell pinched my nostril
Panned across to search for the citizen responsible.
Little did I realize I was the owner of those feet
Which could even spoil the moment of an Oscar winner’s feat
Far beside on a table were a bunch of papers and magazine
All stacked up for the officers who spent time gazing and looking.
Luckily, I found there none of those literate servants or anyone
Took a breath, put my chest out to imagine myself to be one.
Politics, Sports, Playboy all seemed to be the offerings of education.
I happily picked the playboy magazine, at least didn’t want to pretend in imagination.
The playboy magazine, which I flipped through
Looking for something, which in my wife was very few.
In fact, there were clothes so little
Just like my bosses who argued for the futile.
A glam-doll sipping some blue-colored drink was seen.
I could have served her that instead of serving these disgruntled humans tea.
A model posed with her right leg on a chair.
So I dreamt, why wasn’t I born that chair.
There was an ad which showed men queued up behind this hottie.
I wonder if this inspired my big boss to hire women of such quality.
Pages flipped and the model changed clothes.
Loving those animalistic poses amidst this corporate-jungle was a super dose.
The jaw dropping sleazy models tried mesmerizing blokes for some Show
Ow my god! Have to check on my sons TV habits when I reach back abode.
Soon some noise disturbed my thought flow.
It seemed someone been shouting at me at the top of their throat.
Turned sideways and contemplated Oh no not again!
The literate servant has some work ready for the illiterate slave.
Shankar S
(This is what i see everyday...imagined what would run through a office-boys mind, as he toils hard day and night without much appreciation from the hierarchy...so the poem is all about that one moment which he uses to free and unwind himself amidst the severe and rigid corporate world.)
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Debut Post
Why Blog?
A question which has been lingering in my mind from the last 6 months, for which answer I have still not found in totality. Guess, would like to go with reasons which other bloggers would like to believe in. Blogs like Raise-it-clean-it-shit, offendedblogger,i-am-a-fool blog, My Life without a wife, Hysterical emotions, Death-i-am-awaiting…few of them grasped my attention…also there were reasons few mentioned, like- yet another way to express, to unleash the internal feeling, to communicate with the incommunicado-lost lover, to follow my superstar, to block an elite position in the bloggosphere(as they call it). All of them Pretty vague but hey who lives with clarity? Even Mr. Lighthouse’s successful and renowned thesis on Blog’s couldn’t fetch me an answer. (Well the Fake Ipl player would be happy reading this sadistic piece of shit, I believe.). So, without getting into much more philosophical insights, here I am adopting all those reasons which people give out to own a blog and register a space in the world of internet. Just like any other, my attempt and my posts would definitely focus on the world which I see or through my eyes and events that happen around me. My target audience- Well, I would seriously not mind babes from brazil reading my Gyan, but its for all those who want to know my contemplations and things I strongly feel about. So, all my fortunate or unfortunate friends and fellow country men, I make this kinda democratic, if you find reading this a pain, either avoid it or leave a scrap or comment asking me to stop my shit.
Introducing, a new blog, my first and foremost, with thoughts, observations and interests in the form of poetry, stories, sketches, photographs which I believe will reflect the world I see which I am forced to believe in.
Welcome to the TOTAL INTERNAL REFLECTION.
PS: The Microsoft word still underlines red when typed blog.
A question which has been lingering in my mind from the last 6 months, for which answer I have still not found in totality. Guess, would like to go with reasons which other bloggers would like to believe in. Blogs like Raise-it-clean-it-shit, offendedblogger,i-am-a-fool blog, My Life without a wife, Hysterical emotions, Death-i-am-awaiting…few of them grasped my attention…also there were reasons few mentioned, like- yet another way to express, to unleash the internal feeling, to communicate with the incommunicado-lost lover, to follow my superstar, to block an elite position in the bloggosphere(as they call it). All of them Pretty vague but hey who lives with clarity? Even Mr. Lighthouse’s successful and renowned thesis on Blog’s couldn’t fetch me an answer. (Well the Fake Ipl player would be happy reading this sadistic piece of shit, I believe.). So, without getting into much more philosophical insights, here I am adopting all those reasons which people give out to own a blog and register a space in the world of internet. Just like any other, my attempt and my posts would definitely focus on the world which I see or through my eyes and events that happen around me. My target audience- Well, I would seriously not mind babes from brazil reading my Gyan, but its for all those who want to know my contemplations and things I strongly feel about. So, all my fortunate or unfortunate friends and fellow country men, I make this kinda democratic, if you find reading this a pain, either avoid it or leave a scrap or comment asking me to stop my shit.
Introducing, a new blog, my first and foremost, with thoughts, observations and interests in the form of poetry, stories, sketches, photographs which I believe will reflect the world I see which I am forced to believe in.
Welcome to the TOTAL INTERNAL REFLECTION.
PS: The Microsoft word still underlines red when typed blog.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)