It is easy to make a promise, just as easy as closing your eyes,
But keeping the promise, is more like waiting for the sleep to encumber your eyes,
For dreams do not come to minds devoid of peace,
So think twice, no, thrice, before speaking out loud,
For once the words are out, you cannot take them back,
Never make a promise unless you decide to keep up with it,
For once he loses his faith in you, you will never get it back,
And he will wander away, away from you, far away,
So far you’ll never be able to get him back in your faith,
And there will be no one else to blame for it, but you.


I am a little upset right now. I haven’t been able to pen down anything for more than a week now, primarily because I have been caught up with so much work back in office. By the time I come home, I am so tired I hardly feel I can write anything proper. For the past one week, I have been logging a regular twelve hours on a daily basis instead of the intended nine. Pent-up work, and pent-up emotions. Believe me, the combination is one of the most lethal things ever. I was lucky enough to be able to get an off for Christmas, but then the weekend came and I had to work through Saturday as well, though I worked only eight hours that day. Apart from that, I tried booking my date for TOEFL, but the website is so crappy and they never mentioned that you couldn’t use a debit card; my transaction failed twice in lieu of that. When I got some free time, I watched a few episodes of ‘Impractical Jokers’; in fact, even now, I had opened my laptop for the same but decided to write instead. I also finished a few more pages of ‘A Dance with Dragons’, and want to go back to it now. And I will, in a while. But till then, let me spend a bit of time with you.

I am a little upset right now. I under-delivered. I wanted to finish three hundred posts this year, but I only finished 280. But it is okay. A lot of crap is worse than a bit of sense. New Year’s is only three days away. I realised just now I should make some resolutions for the new year. Apart from some habits that I have vowed to give up, (and do not want to make a mention here), there are a few resolutions I really mean to keep up. One, more importance to family. All through last year, I realized, I have devoted really less time to my family. My work is eating up on most of my time, and so is my sleep. The few hours that remain, I now want to dedicate to my parents. Nothing big. Chitter chatter. How have you been? How was your day? I realized that is enough to keep them smiling, to keep them happy. They need closure. They need to know I am there for them. They need to know I care for them as much as they do for me. But the last year has been pretty bad that way. I had been out with friends practically every weekend. I want to switch the role now. That is my biggest resolution for this year.

For the past nine months, I have been planning on making an Android application. I even wrote down a post about it, hoping that would encourage me to finally start with it and make something out of it. I failed in that as well. My second resolution is to finish the project, and finish it well. It is a big project, I cannot handle it alone, I need help, and I will get it. I am already busy with the Amsler project, but hopefully my friend will do justice to it, he is already working a lot on it these days. But however big the project, or however tiny, I will do full justice to whatever I start, and see it to an end. My third resolution is to code more. More and more and more. Why? Working in a top-notch company with good people has its own perks and problems. There are two sides of every coin. While it is fun fixing bugs and getting to know how things really work, sometimes it is frustrating when you realize that you are only improving on stuff that others have made clumsily. We work on Android, and it is not a secret that Google writes the code for Android. And I urge you to read it up sometime, and see how bad some people can really code. I do not say I am a very good programmer, but there are some things you would never do, and probably some people have never been taught the Do’s and Don’t’s of good programming practices. Anyhow I cannot repair what is beyond repair, but I have made a resolution to write clean code. Really clean.

Resolutions are sometimes only a mummer’s farce. My fourth resolution is simple. And easy to keep. It is to keep up the other three resolutions. Sometimes you don’t need to dream big, and you don’t need to make huge plans to make a difference. Sometimes small changes can help a lot, make your life better, and keep you happier. And that is exactly what I want to be next year. Happy. So there they are, four of them, cleanly put. Whenever I am down, I am going to come back and read this, and try to keep them up as much as possible. You all out there, tell me about your resolutions. They may be kiddish, but if they are what you want to keep up to, those are all that matter. Happy New Year!

Three | Five

The Bell

Written on December 7, 2010.

Never before had Bull felt the way he felt right now. His emotions swung left and right, and he was under a fix as to whether what he thought was eternal relationship came to an end just because of the love of one’s own life. As he sat in the cell, the king came along.

“So your dear friend hasn’t arrived as yet. Wasn’t I very sure of this! After all why should someone be so foolish as to come back to die once he has been given the chance to escape? Only because his friend believes in him? This is pure bullshit Bull, I told you earlier do not come into all this but you didn’t listen. Now you have to suffer. You have no other choice.”

And then the man rose his head. The king noticed, silently, how the slight curves on his forehead now smoothened, how a black patch had developed beneath his eyes as though he hadn’t slept a million nights, how the skin of the lips had cracked, and how wrinkled the face had become, as if he weren’t a youth but an old man, older than him. Diseased he is, thought the king. Slowly, taking the support of the wall beside, Bull rose up, stood on his feet and cleared his throat. “Sir, you are mistaken. There is nothing to suffer in this.” And he sat down again, curled himself up and was lost in his thoughts.

The king, too confident to argue, left.

Lost in his thoughts, Bull now remembered those moments of his life which he wished he could relive a million times. The house painted white, behind the hedges, the evergreen field on which it stood, the fan hanging on the beam of the roof of it, which he always wished would rotate faster. He remembered how in the cold winter nights he would curl up under his quilt, listening to his parents’ talking among them. He still did not forget that day, when he returned from school to see that the house wasn’t there anymore, only rubble, and he still didn’t know where his parents were. People had told him that they dies when the house shattered to an earthquake, but he never believed those. He knew his parents would return.

His thoughts then went to his school. It was a small four-room cottage, but it was there that he framed himself for the latter part of his life. He remembered the white and red striped paint on the front walls, and the cement broken on the interiors. He remembered how a mattress used to be kept in order that the room wouldn’t get dirty, and how he and Ross stole all of them. Ross. Yes Ross. His favorite schoolmate.

Ross, a dark-complexioned boy, taller than Bull, he thought, and a wry smile crossed his face, when he was reminded of all the fun they had together. Bunking classes to sit by the river, picking pockets of the travellers who passed by, telling people wrong routes so that they lost themselves, making paper airplanes and flying them in the classroom, never doing their homework yet always escaped the teachers’ scolding by making some lame excuse… and how they grew up together, never realizing that time passed so quickly.

His thoughts now wandered only around Ross. He remembered the lunches they had together at his house, when Ross’s mother cooked better food than any other lady in the world. What a sumptuous lunch they had always, though he always wished that his mother come back from wherever she is and cook him her food too. He too wished that he invite Ross to his house and that he ate his mother’s made food. Little did he know that people don’t come out of their graves. Ross’s mother was a kind lady. Short-heighted, yellow streaks on her front hair, she was always a little bent, due to her age he supposed, she wasn’t pretty, but she was beautiful. Her face was white, white as the snow that fell when he stayed up the hills, at an age of four, with his parents. Sometimes when they both would return from school, his mother would be just outside the door, sweeping the floors with a long broom. The broom had a long wooden handle, and he could still remember the exact picture of it. And she would be coughing loud, the dust causing it. And he remembered how Ross would take the broom from her hands, and ask her to go inside whilst he swept the courtyard, after which they had lunch together, of bread with butter and a glass of milk, the milk of the cow tied to the fence in the backyard.

And then the smile on his face turned to a dark gloom, and the curves on his forehead reappeared. It was due to what happened last week. Murder. Ross. Sentence. Thoughts flashed in and out of his mind. What apparently happened was that Ross had murdered the prince of the city. The reason for this was unknown to everyone. Ross did not share this even with Bull. But there was a rumor that it was because of the fact that both loved the same girl and that Ross was jealous of the fact that the girl loved the prince because he was richer. It was due to that that he had been sentenced to death. However, he had a last wish of seeing his parents before he died. But there was no guarantee that he would return once set free to meet his parents. That was where this man Bull came in. Ross begged Bull to stay in his place till he returned. The king put a condition that if Ross did not return within the stipulated time, Bull would be hanged instead. Bull had almost instantaneously accepted the proposal, he having so much faith in their friendship. But now, only fifteen minutes were left for the bell to ring, and he hadn’t arrived yet.

The bell rung. Bull was escorted to the place which was designed for the hanging. A large crowd had appeared. A sense of serenity showed on Bull’s face although in a few minutes he would be hanged for absolutely no fault of his. The bell rung a second time. The rope was put around his neck. Three. Two. One and… “Stop!” Came a voice from behind. He was huffing, panting and through his blurred vision, Bull saw Ross arrive. There was a smile on Bull’s face, a smile of faith, an eternal friendship, a relationship which had passed all limits. Amidst that smile, Bull’s eyes closed. “No!”, shouted Ross in the background. A loud applause of the crowd. Only had Ross been sooner by a second…

Quick – Chapter 7

She was there, turned into a fairy, flying about in the room. I could sniff blood around, and taste it on my lips as well, a salty taste; and then I woke up.

“Too much whisky, eh?”

“No, not much. That was only a quarter.”

“Yeah, and you’ve slept for four hours, on my bed, alone.”


“Yeah. I’ve got a message from the headquarters. You are to be killed.”


“Can’t you hear me, boy?”

“I can.”

“Good then. But I am not gonna kill you, so soon at least. Tell me what you know of this business.”


“Tell me what you know.”

“Nothing. I thought you were to break it to me.”

“Yeah. Too late though.”

“You know I can’t understand a penny of what you speak right now.”

“You’ve got a new life boy. A new name, a new identity.”


“Stay here, and you will know soon. Bye.”



I’ll keep looking at the sky my love,
And every time a shooting star falls,
I’ll throw a pebble into the pond,
Yes my love, I will soon build you a castle.

For every wind that blows over me,
For every breeze that touches my hair,
I’ll  throw a fistful of sand into the pond,
Yes my love, I will soon build you a castle.

For every breath that the ocean takes,
For every wave that it weaves,
I will let a tear drop every single time,
Yes my love, I will soon build you a castle.

For every dream that you’ve dreamed of,
For every prayer that you’ve said,
In the name of all the Gods,
Yes my love, I will soon build you a castle.

A Father-Son Story

An auburn coat, polished shoes, a cotton pant, and a beaming face,
The father embarked on his daily walk to the tea-stall by his house,
The white in his moustache had taken a toll over the black,
It had been the same with men, now it’s for the hair, he told his spouse.

Neatly parted hair, the few left on his head, and a wizened face,
He bid his everyday adios to his wife at the gate,
Both smiled yearning it was his last day he would visit the stall,
And that their craving would equate his fate.

As he gazed into his wristwatch he’d bought years ago,
He read the letter which he’d carry in his pouch,
“I’ll come to see you at the tea-stall one day”,
Today was the thousandth day he read that he’d vouch.

He told the seller about his son, that he’d left when he was six,
Said he’d come back only when he had earned,
And when he was twenty, he sent him a letter,
Saying he’d meet him at the tea-stall one day.

“My son must be busy with his work,
I think he’ll reach here by tomorrow,
He never broke his promise when he was younger,
Either in joy or in sorrow.”

The shopkeeper smiled as he poured him his last drink,
For the past twenty years they’d known each other,
And when a tear rolled down their cheeks,
None of them thought the other would bother.

The sun then set behind the knolls, whilst they shut the little booth,
And one day he told him, “You treat me as if I was your father”,
The tea-seller’s heart skipped a beat, as he spoke to himself,
“I’ve kept my promise and continue to keep it every day, father”.


All the wounds, all the bruises,
All the scratches, all the pains,
All the scrapes and all the clots,
All of them will heal slowly.
These newly created distances,
These newly made inequalities,
These new roads which come,
In between love and farness,
They will be habituated to me slowly.
All the promises which were broken,
All the strings which were broken,
My heart of glass which was broken,
All will join themselves slowly.
All the hatred in your heart for me,
All the nothingness in my heart for you,
All the awe in the hearts of people,
All will end but yes, slowly.
Do not worry, that day will come,
I will die, and so will you,
And I promise you that before that happens,
I will forget you however slowly.