A THOUSAND SORDID SUNS

Paucity has ruined great kingdoms,

then why leave that of the sun?

Precisely, but unless any life is harmed,

And the world by it is only charmed,

I wouldn’t object the burning up of empty farms.

But the Americans thought not so,

For, the seeds of enimity they had to sow,

In retribution to the tyrant Hirohito.

On August 6, 1945 American officers Tibbet and Ferebree,

Ordered to unleash Thin Boy and Fat Boy on a killing spree.

Killing humans, their strategic key,

Unlocking a tremor of fear,

So that their victory was sheer.

They showed a thousand dying souls instantly,

the eye of The Creator who destroyed.

Their departure leaving the life of many, void…..

Now that the city and its people have recovered,

a disfigured newborn or two still discovered.

Thankfully, no Hiroshima or Nagasaki again occurred

On that day, the world saw a wrath so glum,

Like a thousand sordid suns.

SLUMDOG-GAZILLIONAIRE

most people would percieve the title as a rags-to-riches-story.
then there is me, who changed the angle of perception 180 degrees, for me it was more like "Millionaire Slumdog".
the protagonist who, began off as a slumdog was rich but only got richer. now that raises a certain amount of doubt! but one must remember that there is a clear stream of reason between doubt and certainty(LOL, srry philip seymour hoffman). here being, the richness in his character, the abundance in friendship, the only thing he lacked was money, but it was very well shown how easy it is to make a large wad of green bucks every day, by feigning innocence.

a few days back i had read a certain person write in his blog that Indians are good for nothing rustics, still stuck with mundane middle-class character drama. Ahem, i beg to differ, you forget that Indians don't loot Indians, they'd rather have your sweet american ass! I still wonder how a single movie which had lesser nominations than a certain curious case beat every bit of competition from the fellow contenders, be it Critics-choice, Baftas, SAG or the coveted Oscars. oh but of course you want reality more like poverty, destitution and corruption. it puts you to wonder how we Indians still survive, hello!!!!!! where did the pursuit of happiness get its story??
I know, Im being a sour sport but you want poverty, i'll give you MOTHER INDIA. you want corruption, i'll give you RDB. you want current affairs, i'll give you TZP. did any of these even get nominated for an Oscar???? not quite, then the great American was busy musing over silly middle class issues. Boy-o-boy! you gotta be kidding me, did anyone notice that none of the actors got nominated, where did the Performing-arts go???? oh well anyways Mumbai earned its share through the location fees.

however, it saddens me further to take notice of the open exploitation. how well the conniving British have used a story by an indian, shot it on Indian land, with Indian actors and earned millions and accolades too! astonishing how Mr. Boyle didn't have his own conscience irked in the process of making the masterpiece! by this I point to the fact that we didn't see any generous donations on his behalf, especially after earning millions from the very same project.

I appreciate art, and so i regret that Indian movies don't get enough recognition abroad. but then again why do we care??

Mother-Faker

Quite a profanity! but apt enough too.........




When a girl marries away she most obviously leaves her childhood, youth to approach a relationship so intimate that she most thankfully accepts oblivion towards those old ties which drove her to marry in first place.
Life takes its course, she now has a family, a caring husband, two mischievous but adorable kids, and new friends that take precedence over old ones on the PRIORITY LIST. she seems to have forgotten the old promise that she had made on the foyer of her 'ex-house',
"A son is a son till he gets his wife, but a daughter is a daughter throughout her life."
the irony is that she has a new life, as a wife, her lifetime as a daughter is long finished. and besides that, a consolation that her brother still lives on with them, pacifies her conscience every time she browses through those old photo-albums.
and then a certain February morning she gets a call, from her relatives informing about her mothers death. she falls apart, trying to imagine what must have pained her so much that she deceased. she conveniently blames herself for it and books herself a ticket on the next flight to India.
on reaching home, she finds a house whitewashed, off emotions, and of strangers, offering condolences, that very house she left as a girl of 20 and returned a lady of 4o.
to see her brother and father in a state of distress she breaks down too. another victim to the wrath of melancholy.she wails in tune with the funeral dirge and cries as she sees her ma, burn in the pyre, and vaporize into the air around. too sad by now, she decides to live on with her father a few more months.
this is where she falls into the trap of dilemma.she cannot decide where her heart must lie, at her home in California or back here in Mumbai.after an exile of 2 months she decides to return to her children in California, but leaves her heart behind in Mumbai.
Another ten years or so, when she has fairly severed her ties again, she gets another phonecall, this time giving the news of her fathers passage into the void. sorrow welled in her again. this time she decides to stay a little shorter than last time. saying her final goodbyes she rushes away. then gets involved in the bustling streets of California.
her children grow up fast and she prays everyday that they grew younger instead, loving expressions transformed to pleasantries and then to arguments. she feels left out, an outgoing duo of children and a career-fanatic husband each turning a blind-eye to her efforts. thats when she decides to get herself involved in her brothers family, trying to regenerate the same connection she used to have ages ago.
in due course she pours all her attention in his family alone, but forgets her family here. the children, husband feel her ignorance towards her maternal duties. she tries to cover-up by blaming them. but blame games only worsen her family and soon she is left alone her daughter married-off and son off to Harvard to complete his education.

Life's a full cycle.

P.S. at this point i'd like to reveal a single phrase that keeps this cycle goin. the same notion that both generations of children bore in their minds before separating from their parents,
" mine is a Mother-Faker."

Money

that singular word drives the world crazy!
mankind boasts of being the king of earth but when the call is for money, its worst probable invention, it makes them fall to unprecedented depths.
from a certain american banker to another indian business tycoon all have ignored their principles and morals in an attempt to magnify their bank-holdings and assets. to quantify their dishonesty is impossible as, i seldom remember anyone forgetting their families to quench their thirst for petty wealth.
the study of etymology derives money from latin moneta meaning mint or coinage, besides relating it to monere meaning warn or advise.
It, for obvious reasons doesn't take a rocket-scientist to do the math here. it can only be considered a wrath foretold by the greatest men of all times and if truth be said misfortune has finally taken its course consuming thousands of distinguished as well as undistinguished souls.
in retrospect, if one sees money has been such an evil, it has perished whole families be it in excess or dirth.
shortage of currency takes the form of hunger and penury consuming individuals in gargantuan numbers. to the contrary that in excess manifests itself as jealousy and greed consuming hale and hearty families. it has undermined the very sanctity of brotherhod and yet you wouldn't find any shortage of temples built in honour of Juno, in whose temple the evil was moulded, rather coined.
my observations and conclusions have taken me to a situation unlike another. i have never before experienced a shortage of money, only an excess and am pained to infer that it may never be so because of the evil it has been in my life.
as a child, i had succumbed to the bad habit of stealing money for the mere cause of buying silly playstuff, we used to collect but as my brain aged i relised it was a pointless wastage of money.
for money itself i have seen many families break apart and fear mine will too in due course.
then again money creates a certain something called status, to keep which most other families perish.it is after 17 years of my existence that i have seen so much. but when i see the many i am left to live yet. i am scared what outcome it would bring. a thing as puny as money has for the first time threatened my sanity, i'm left with only the assurance of my family when this thought comes to my mind but then again we have also seen sons chasing money abroad while their roots are dying in its lack.that pains me further, but i dont think, that my career would affect my family ties esp. after all that has already occured to me.

INTRODUCTION

(enter Kinshuk Bhakta)
i'm not poetic i'm not a writer, niether a constant blogger but i love writing my heart out, and 'Thoughts Astray' is another experiment of mine. lets hope a successful one!
i do not write frequently but when i do, i empty all of it in here.... so please bear with me if the frustration is too evident. please don't bother getting offended 'coz i dont really care.
and besides every time you feel i'm wrong please write in or comment at least, i'd like to justify myself...
anyways its my time to write and yours to read so HAPPY READING!