Angels

I feel like a song without the words,

a man without a soul,

a bird without its wings,

a heart without a home.

I feel like a knight without a sword,

a sky without the sun, cause you are the one.

I feel like a ship beneath the waves,

a child who's lost its way,

a door without a key, a face without a name.

I feel like a breath without the air,

and everyday's the same,

since you've gone away.

They tell me that a man can lose his mind,

Living in the pain.

Recallin' times gone by,

I'm crying in the rain.

You know I've wasted half the time

and I'm on my knees again.

'Til you come to me.

I gotta have a reason to wake up in the morning.

You used to be the one that put a smile on my face.

There are no words that could describe how I miss you;

I miss you, everyday.

I am still holding on, girl, I won't let you go,

Cause when I'm lying in your arms I know I'm home.

I gotta have a reason to wake up in the morning.

You used to be the one that put a smile on my face.

There are no words that could describe how I miss you.

And I miss you, everyday.

Still holding on, girl, I won't let you go.

Lay my head against your heart, I know I'm home.

(composed by Daniel Bedingfield)

Today is the longest day of my life

Hope you are doing fine. I am doing fine now. I have numbed my senses to the point of no return. From you I got what I had wanted for a long long time; a realistic view of things. Reality never was really my thing until you came along. I got a crash course in perception. And boy, what a crash it was. I have bled myself to the point that I have no blood left in my body to even feel the pinch. I have beaten myself to the point where I have no choice but to believe that it was 'all' my fault. I mean, we should face the facts here, it was actually all my fault. See, I accept it now. 

Also, I have never been able to accept the way things happened between us. Before writing anything further I would like to add a disclaimer here. Read ahead of this point only if you can seriously accept the fact that I am sitting here, trying to say a lot of things and I have no one who could spare time to listen. So the little I have left inside of me, I will write here and after this point I will forget that I ever felt anything even remotely similar to what I write here. Trust me, I have no confusion in my head anymore and I know what the way to go is. I know writing stuff here is not the best way to say things. But what the heck. If I had that kind of a brain inside this head, I wouldnt be sitting here crooning. This, I believe is just the left over angst and the untied strings and the unfinished conversations. To say the least, I'd like to say that I have absolutely NO regrets. It was lovely being with you for the time we were together. You are a lovely woman, and I wish you all the best in your life.

First things first. I should tell you, that I have indeed loved you, for whatever or howsoever much time. But I have. I know a few days from now I would be able to love again. But just that my life has be an extra-fucked-up-timing-vaganza. You cared, I didnt. I cared, you didnt. We both cared, no time. I know, all this is no ones fault, but still I will take it on me. After all, I am your friendly neighbourhood fall-guy. Dont feel like you've made a mistake, you've made somebody's heart break. I am stronger than you think and now I have to let you go. I understand the circumstances, I understand the unfolding of events. I have made you cry, and I dont deserve you. In fact you deserve better. 

I knew this was coming, I knew this could not go on forever like this. I knew we have serious timing issues. But its okay. Life moves on. I always end up being the bad guy. I hope you dont feel that way about me. I respect you and I expect the same. I am not a bad guy, I'm just someone who has had bad luck in this department. I would like to promise you now, that I will be your friend till the end. I know you better than you think I do. 

Thats all I have to say. Today has been the longest day of my life. Getting over you, was one of the hardest things I have ever done. The next time you see me, you will see me happy. I will be me again. Yet again. 

(I know have to stop doing this to myself. Time and time again. But trust me, this is not my ego talking. This is not a baggage I needed to shed. Deep inside me I feel everything, no matter how much I claim I dont.)

Only the dead survive

As the reinforced steel doors gave way to my angling perceptions of how life would be in its aftermath, I double checked my watch. It was exactly 1:34am. Six more minutes of uncertainty. Six more minutes of my old life. I had made mistakes in life. Many mistakes. As I had promised myself this was to be the last one. Jack Estolio was never to steal again. Better put, he wouldn't have the need to steal anymore. That's right, there was enough money behind this door to suffice for two of my family lifetimes. It was the heist of the century. 200 Million Dollars. I could get back my life. My son would go to a decent college. My wife would have barbecue parties on the patio where she would flaunt her new fur coat from France. My debts will be paid off. I'd ride in a chauffeured limousine. I'd invest money in the markets long-term to double it in every 10 years or so. Anna and I would watch the sunset from our beach mansion's balcony and get right back in thereafter...

As the iron bars closed shut in front of my face, I imagined how Frank had framed me. If I forgive that bastard I would maybe let myself sleep for just one night, so that I don't have to faint at the prison quarry by noon. I checked my watch. It was 11:54pm. Six more hours of darkness. Six more hours till the sun comes up. I had made mistakes in life. Many mistakes. But this one was the dumbest of them all. Had I not gotten greedy, I wouldn't have had to get my ego pounded by hounds from hell. 300 nights of sheer hell. It was the prison of the century. As I slid into my bunk, I imagined what my son would be dreaming about right now. The Marco Family hounds got Anna within 4 days of my capture. My son was taken into custodian rehab by some Templeton family. I wish they would let me meet my son, I would get right back in thereafter ...

Learning To Breathe

I climbed up on the stage. It felt like home. It felt like a mother's warm embrace. The lights, the electric buzz welcomed me. Everything I had stood for, defined the moment I held the microphone in my hands. They were watching. With my feeble and weak voice, I knew could not prove anything. All I could show the crowd was that there was no such thing as fear. This was not about getting acclaim. This was not about gathering applause. This was a salute. Atri (lead guitar) knew it too, his look had said it all. This was a salute to everyone who had taken the stage before us, to speak their minds. We were there too, to do what we liked doing best. Getting lost in our little worlds of music. This was a tribute to greatness. This was a humble attempt to recreate greatness. This was nothing more than what we had wanted to do. And nothing less. Sound check. And then it began. In the end, we were happy to be who we were. We were entertainment. We chose to be the rag dolls. Trust me when I say, I remember nothing of the show. I just remember the beats, the sweet sound of electricity, the feeling of completion. We had learnt how to breathe. We were ready. Lets rock.

Rajesh, Anish, Sushir & Atri

Facts About Stuff

“There's a world of difference between truth and facts. Facts can obscure the truth.”

• We were meant to live for so much more.
• We have lost ourselves.
• Sue needs a new LAN cord.
• People hate me for what I am.
• Val Halen has given the world a gem of a video in "Right Now".
• AC/DC sounds good even when you are drunk to the core.
• The Dark Knight does not deserve a 9.whatever it has on IMDB, it just needs an 8.5 maybe.
  
• The world is cruel place.
• Whatever life has thrown on you is peanuts in front of someone else's pain.
• There is no such concept as The Best Graphics Card.
• Console gamers are turds.
• Linkin Park is not the best band out there. In fact it sucks ... Bigtime! Really!
• I hate random drunks getting friendly with my peers.
• Devil May Cry 4 rocks.
• People have bad experiences and they tell-tale it to act smart.
• Morons are purple in color.
• Smart people can be whatever color you want them to be.

The Disappearance

Nothing has changed. The once green grass is dead. The soft ground is barren. The mist has swallowed the scenic lake. Nothing has changed.

The last train to suburbia had left hours ago. The next train back to town was none of my concern. I had come here to unravel the mysteries of my life. This was not about me or my idiosyncrasies. This was about the dream I was having night after night. Something that had blurred the line between reality and this. This is it, I thought to myself. I knew I was not going back now. I needed answers to questions that weren't there. I was looking for that face which had haunted me for years. I remember coming here at wee hours to meet her. Sometimes I was welcome, other times I was not. Sometimes she beckoned me, sometimes my love for her did. Invariably the lake had always left me amused. I had always wondered what lay beyond the darkness. I remember driving on the road close to the lake late at night, driving fast in the chilly winds. Eyes barely open, I remember trying to look over the darkness into the oblivion. Hoping to catch a glimpse of uncertainty. I remember thirty years ago she had disappeared, without a word. Without a goodbye. Since then I had started having this dream of her wrapping something, a book maybe ... in plastic. I remember how I had never had the courage to sing for her, when I had no problem singing for a crowd. I remember the loss for words when I was with her. Dumb-struck and bewitched by her flawless beauty. Thirty years is indeed a long time. Still I clearly remember the last words she had spoken to me. That memory was flawless. So ... will I see you tomorrow?

Its strange how time changes things. I remember the times we had spent together. She was always aloof, on higher ground. She always spoke of a distant land where her life would be better. I being practical had never believed her. Thirty years of being without her have changed me. Changed me into a believer. Nothing has changed. The same road, the same cross, the same building. Just that no one lived here since the nuclear winter struck. The lake was contaminated. My dream had brought me this far. Just a few more steps. I clicked open the door. Somewhere at the back of my head I was waiting for the bark of her dog. Funny the tricks our mind plays. I stepped into the house. Uncertain what I would find. Dust had covered and devoured almost everything she had left behind. I reached to towards the living room wall. Would you like to have some beer? I had asked, Yeah sure. Why not.

I remembered how she had always spoken of a painting in her living room. It was the painting of a lake. With a small lake-house right at the center. She had promised she would take me there someday as it was close by. I sat down beside the place where her television used to be. The painting was in my hand. I wiped it clean. In the glare of the glass I could see my gray hair. I had spent my entire life looking for her. There was nothing left to do but to come back to the start and begin it all over again. The one and only reason I was here today. I didn't realize how quickly lost in my thoughts I had fallen asleep. I woke up almost 2 hours later and nothing had changed.

Its time. The sands of time were cruel. They had consumed everything. I decided to go to the lake house as it was one and the only thing she had promised me thirty years ago. After three hours of walking, swimming, making my way through mud, I was finally there. The small lake house looked more like an over-sized kennel. I tried opening the door, it was locked. I smashed it down. My old body had taken enough beating for the day but something from within had kept me going all this while. I was a fool. All my life I had chased this sensation, the feeling of her well-being. All my life I had pursued something farce. Something that was never mine. But love is a strange thing. I had always wanted to be with her, nothing had changed. I had to find her ... I was willing to look everywhere, even in hell. This is hell. I thought to myself. Anyplace without her is hell. Without her love my live was nothing but this carnival of rust.

I looked in that lake-house. I looked hard. After 30 minutes of searching, I had found what I was looking for. A book. Wrapped in plastic. I hurriedly opened the wrapping. The inside of the book was now termite infested. I quickly turned to the first page.

"Max. If you are reading this, you have finally understood me. Maybe you did deserve me after all. I will not give any reasons for my disappearance, and you will never know where I am. All you need to know is that I will be safe. I will take care of myself like you have always wanted me to. I know you love me. Believe me, you are not the reason I am leaving. I just need a break. Take care."

The Dark Night

I am still standing. I have not done this to myself in years. I took out this semi-wet cigarette from the coat pocket of the guy lying in front of me. I light it up and the smoke does what it has to. It dries up the insides of my mouth and causes a burning sensation near the vocal cords. But right now the burning sensation is overwhelmed by the pain in my belly. I'm still standing tall. He should have shot me in the face. The goons these days... they have the least knack of getting the job done. I convince myself that I have won. The bullet wound in my stomach is about to spill my guts all over the dirty alley. The last time I was in this alley I was not perforated. I was walking tall. I was insane. I was angry. The whimpers from the asshole I destroyed tonight break my chain of thought. Shut the fuck up ! I advise Mr. Not-So-Good. I am calm. My voice seems a bit harsh, but I'm okay. I'll make it through this shit... I tell myself in the back alleys of my mind. The man lying in front of me is crying like a chick cries after a rape. Spineless fool.

Five minutes ago I entered the Sex-Toy Bar to settle an old score with this fool. Turned out that the fool had upgraded. He now carried a Barretta in his coat pocket. Before I could punch him to the ground he managed to lay a few shots in my belly. I could have capped his ass any minute but I wanted him to suffer; and there he was lying in the dirtiest alley of NYC, crying like a worthless bitch. The barretta was now in my left hand. My hands were drenched with blood. Mixed blood, some from the gunshot wound in my belly and rest from the gums of the man lying in front of me. He must have lost twelve of his precious teeth in the battering I gave him three minutes ago, that is, before I dragged him out in the rain, into the back alley of the cheapest bar in NYC. It takes me nearly five minutes to finish a cigarette; but tonight was different. I did not have much time. I had seen the bartender pick up the phone as I was dragging this low-life bastard out of the bar. He must have called 911... That means that the cops would be here any minute now. I throw the cigarette into the nearby drain. I focus. My right hand was free now. I held the gun with my left hand and pressed it over the wound tightly. I focus.

You piece of shit, how do you want me to finish you off ... I said looking at the drain. Dont kill me please, I am sorry for your wife, for your kids, I am sorry for all that and more ... please dont kill me. I will be your slave for life.... He sobs. Its of no use now. He is as good as dead. He knows it better than anyone else. Now its time to take away his most precious thing. I muster up courage, but I'm still standing. The pain shoots up to my head, my eyes hurt. But the rain doesnt stop. I take the gun in my right hand, covering my hole with the other. My own hole. My only drawback. The alley light flickers. I point the gun at the man's groin. He is too beatup and too afraid to move. He closes his eyes. Look at me asshole, look in my eyes. I scream. Please dont shoot me ... I will... er... BANG ! ... Ohhh... fuck... you fucking bastard you shot me in the dick ... asshole....fuck you... fuc.... ack..... aaaahh.... He is in pain. I took away from him what makes him a man. I love it, I love the cries and the blood all over the alley from his 'love machine'. You deserve this you fool ... you earned it. Ha ha ha ... I throw the gun away. I am stumbling, not much time left. The pain has become unbearable now, but the joy of seeing the fucker suffer is overpowering me. Time to finish the job ... I am still standing.

I grab his cheecks with both hands. My wound oozes out blood. Mixed with the dirty rain it hits the drain. Time to die, mother fucker. I bang his head into the wall behind him. It hits him so hard that his cry turns into a fade out sequence for a gothic rock number. His head has a big visible crack on it. Rain makes it even more clear. The wall behind was strong enough. The bastard suddenly stopped screaming and whimpering. Silence. I am still standing.

I had got the job done. I lose balance. Fall down and station myself near the dead goon. The rain had almost stopped as if marking the end of my mission. I smile. I still had a cigarette left in my pocket. The low-life smoked such cheap cigarettes... one drag couldnt have done the job, not even for mother teresa... I have two options now. Drag myself to the clinic nearby for first aid and a chance. Or, stay here and wait for the cops. I had seen a TV News report a few days ago, praising the prompt action of the NYPD. I hope they are prompt. I choose option two. Suddenly the sounds from Who wants to be a Millionaire ? play in my head. I smile. Correct answer Max they tell me. I light up the cigarette. I hope this is not the last one in my life. I will survive. I was not standing now. The pain had taken over the burning sensation again. Somehow the smell of the drenched alley mixed with the smell of blood and gun smoke felt nice. I was at rest. Waiting for the cops. Suddenly I heard the sirens, Finally... come on coppers ... be nice to me ok ? Come and find me quickly ... he he he. I smile again. Then I realize that the darkness rises all around me. I lose sight. Gosh. Not now Max. Hold on ... I hear my wife's voice. Daddy ... stop. Dont go. The darkness deepens. I cant even hear the cars on the road now. The only sound I hear now is the deafening noise of Silence. Suddenly, I feel I am still standing. Somehow ... Darkness prevails.

An Important Tutorial

No offense but unfortunately I'm back and I have to inform everyone before they make the same mistakes I made and end up as baked pancakes. World! This is important, so pay attention!

This is a tutorial on how to switch the 'contact information' from one Sony Ericsson* phone to another and vice versa. This info is also utmost important to people with Nokia/LG/Samsung phones. Now the things we require are listed as follows.

Two Computers (A and B) geographically at least 12 KMS apart. (Geeks/Nerds should not cry out to heavens that this could be done with one PC only, I know how its done that way, so chill you losers, get a life! Note: This is supposed to be funny)
One SE USB data cable.
SE PC Suite Software.
Two SE cell phones. (C1 and C2)

Here we go ...

Install the PC Suite on A.
Back up contacts from C1 to A.
Do not check if all the contact info is properly backed up.
Delete all contacts from C1.
Head to B.
Install the PC Suite on B.
Since B is slow, restart (Hard Boot) B for this to work.
Back up contacts from C2 to B.
Check this time if the info has been backed up correctly.
Since B is slow, restart (Hard Boot) B again for this to work.
Connect C1 and restore the contact info from B into it.
Check if C1 has all the info that C2 had before.
Head out towards A.
Now delete all contacts from C2.
Connect C2 to A.
Copy the backed up information from A to C2.
Realize it quickly, that you have lost half of your contacts from C1.
Desperately search for an old DVD with your contact information back up.
Pop-in the DVD and voila !
Restore some of the info which was lost.
Dont Panic !

See the point is that it doesnt matter if the whole process and/or the plan is working or not. It doesnt matter if I'm desperate or not. It doesnt matter if the USB cable is loose or if the PC is slow. It doesnt matter if anybody is doing anything or not. All that matters is that the contact transfer process is a small tiny thing which should work. If its not working, then some little thing is wrong somewhere. I have an inherent urge to fix such issues right there and then, and I swear to God that I will not back out or give up in midway. I will fix this thing and get it working anyhow. Just because its supposed to work fine. I am not a quitter, and I will not quit. Not now, not ever. It is more than just a contacts transfer or an ego issue. Its a problem, which I know how to solve, and hence I will solve it. :)

And in the end, as we all know, this story came to a happy ending. The contact info was transferred successfully. :)

And I just saved the world from calamity.

The Funny One

He was from a small town. Didn't have many dreams in his head. But there was something special about this boy. He made a lot of friends in the City. Everyone he met almost instantly liked him. He made friends like the sun makes its rays. Here and there, everywhere. Everyone was curious but none of them really knew what he was capable of. All his friends called him "The Funny One". His small one liners were famous at his college. He was very good with words. He was infact so creative with his talk that people seldom took him seriously. He crafted sentences so beautifully that people had a hard time grasping what he said. His words and the awe of witnessing something so spectacular always made his audience feel as if he was an artist of sorts. Anything he uttered became an instant hit. He became so famous for his words that, even the simplest of his words lost their meaning. As for him, this ability of crafting words came naturally and he couldnt control anything. Not that he didnt try. He tried hard to speak normally, but the beauty was so deeply rooted into his words that it almost became inherent. He eventually became "The Funny One". He couldnt understand why people called him funny. He knew he was good with words. He was very good. But not remotely funny. Maybe people around him labelled everything they didnt understand ... "Funny". He tried living with it for a long time. He moved on in life being what he was. Some years later he realised that the entire world was like that. Speeches, presentations, meetings ... wherever he spoke, he was greeted by cheer and applause and laughter. People absolutely loved him. Not because of his ideas, but because of the way he portrayed each one of them. Some people went as far as to label him as the Midas of words. Everyone who knew him treated him like a superstar. He soon realised that he was very very lonely at the top. His words were never appreciated for their depth, but for their glitter. One fine day he thought to himself, ... is this what I want to be? Is this as deep as I am? Am I happy being someone who is always misunderstoood? He moved on again. He tried. He got married after a few years. In time he noticed that his wife and kids were normal. He went on, hating, cursing the world for being what it was. For having such a shallow outlook. All his life he kept looking for the one person who could possibly ignore the word-craft and take his words as what they were. Years flew by and he turned 80. Nothing. Everything he said till date was so good/wonderful that no one really paid any attention. They all were busy admiring, applauding. He was too old to even hope now that someone would understand him. Slowly and steadily the age took toll on him. He was brought down to his knees. Everyone around him cared for him until his dying day. But no one really ever got to know what his thoughts were. No one knew much about him. No one knew how deep his thinking was. He was remembered as the incredible guy who could weave magic with words. And ten years after, he was forgotten alltogether. It was not funny at all.

Are you a gamer?

I am one too. Take a look what I have been doing since November 2007-February 2008. I've been busy. Revising old classics and getting a smell of whats new in the business.

Stranglehold*
Crysis*
NFS : Pro Street*
Far Cry
Halo 2*
Shadowrun
Fable*
Painkiller : Overdose
STALKER
Battlefield : 2142
Jericho*
Flatout 2
FEAR : Extraction Point
FEAR : Perseus Mandate*
Call of Duty 4 : Modern Warfare*
Half Life 2 : Episode 2*
Portal*
Bio-Shock*
Rainbow Six : Vegas
Call of Duty 2*
Scratches
Time-Shift*
World In Conflict*
The Club*
Spider-Man : Friend or Foe
Black & White 2
Resident Evil 4*
Simcity : Societies
Infernal*
Made Man
Blacksite : Area 51
Hellgate : London
Beyond Good and Evil*
Unreal Tournament 3 (aka UT2007)*
Elder Scrolls IV : Oblivion*
Elder Scrolls IV : Shivering Isles*
Kane and Lynch : Dead Men*
Prey*
Gears of War*
Beowulf
Sam & Max : Season 1
Overlord*
Darkness Within
Penumbra : Overture*
Penumbra : Black Plague*
Conflict : Denied Ops
Universe At War

*Recommended Titles