Pretty Woman

'Coz her eyes don't shut,
And the scars don't heal.
The nights go by, dark,
She tries hard to conceal
The struggle that she wages,
All the fears she does feel,
She stands out even worse
In her life's lost show-reel.



Apologies for the terrible photographic quality, the sketch looked tonnes better on paper, but I'm stranded with a 5Megapixel phone camera, and can't help it at the moment.

Un Homme et Un Homme

Ten fingers and Uneven Toes

We all have. At least most of us do...

Given below is the first 'Misfit' poster. I plan to design several of these.And this was created when I was in a fight-arena pitted against Macroeconomics at around 2000 hours today...Watched a terribly cliched and crass (German) slasher flick called 'Dead in Three Days...' on World Movies today. And I always used to think that the 'them' at World Movies had some good taste...

Bleh.

More later...
I have written a Hindi poem...

Bon Voyage... An Early End For Me ?

My bed at the moment is ‘infested’ by stacks of unread notes. They look way more perilous than sharks in the Tasman Sea. I’m in no mood to confront them tonight.

I’m sad because the Rolling Stones magazine didn’t include Queen OR Pink Floyd in their list of Top 50 Artists of all times. I’m hungry too, but that happens every night, when I’m awake at this hour.

I’m randomly remembering past incidents. Like in De Nobili when Debadrita would rush out of the classroom yelling “Bulldozer, bulldozer!” on catching sight of a mighty yellow bulldozer passing our school by. And the school-rules didn’t allow us to set our feet in the corridor between the classroom and the road-with-the-mighty-bulldozer because apparently, the students could be causing a breach to ‘De Nobili Discipline’ by becoming visible to the passersby on the road. And yet, we would follow Debadrita into the corridor, ripping apart every little iota of the notion of ‘De Nobili Discipline’ our class-teacher expected from us.

Somehow, most of my pleasant memories have a cool-breeze coming in through some window.
With Thammu and Buiya, I would play “Chhush Chhush”(sound of waves against the hull of a boat) in the guest-room. The game would have us embark on wonderful Sinbad-ish adventures, where we would be required to do everything right from fighting for our lives to dancing weirdly in order to please local tribal kings. No wonder ‘The Voyage Of The Dawn-Treader’ remains my favorite book of the Narnia series. No one was allowed to enter the room when the game would be on.
And sometimes, we would also dance to ‘Koi Kahe Kehta Rahe’ or ‘Brown Girl In The Ring’. Yes, Thammu IS my dad’s mom.

Life has been good to me. I’ve always had what I wanted. But, I’ve always expected a catastrophic future for myself. I’m not pessimistic. I’m not an unhappy person. But this is something I see for myself. I will spell my own early end, I keep thinking. However, the notion might just be wrong. All these years, and I haven’t encountered the catastrophe still, right? Let’s see what happens. If I wither off early, at least I’ll not be an Eleanor Rigby later.

I leave you with these four posters that I’ve designed and though they’re just amateurish stuff, I quite like them… :D

This, I guess, is my last post in October 2009.