Love-ly tears

I do not have a sister. Neither a younger one to cuddle, nor an elder one to feel cuddled. Sadly, hence, I may never understand the mysterious equations of sisterly love. Its Raksha Bandhan today and…
For a friend who cried for her bro-

Her voice sounded a heartfelt choke;
Teardrops they where,
In which her eyelashes seemed to soak.

In the last hour of the day,
Under blurred stars and a sullen dark sky;
Yearning for her brother’s presence,
A lonesome heart sobbed into I lonesome cry.

Thinking of a pastry or a plum,
Sharing its sweetness, well, fighting over some.
Stuffed teddies to a laser gun,
They brawled over them, with others they had fun.

Underneath the torn quilt of rivalry,
The warm sense of belonging grew.
Streams of recollection rolled down,
Before her dampened eyes ever knew.

And my heart sunk into its melancholic depths,
Depths of unimaginable gloom.
But sadness never spoke to me so gentle,
Strangely it spread Love’s perfume.

Realization had struck me now,
Struck me with a decorated thread.
A craving sister in my bosom’s fairyland,
But its splendor I may never understand.

The Indian Cow.

Note: Laughing without reason is said to be a sign of madness. You'll find enough reason here..!
This is the essay on "Cow" which was (supposedly) written by some student in the course of completing the "Indian Civil Services Examination" :-)


"The cow is a successful animal. Also he is quadrupud, and because he is female, he give milk,but will do so when he is got child.He is same likeGod,sacred to Hindus and useful to man.But he has got four legs together.Two are forward and two are afterwards."His whole body can be utilised for use. More so the milk. What can it do?Various ghee, butter,cream, curd, why and the condensed milk and so forth.Also he is useful to cobbler, watermans and mankind generally."His motion is slow only because he is of asitudinious species. Also hisother motion is much useful to trees, plants as well as making flat cakes inhand and drying in the sun. Cow is the only animal that extricates his feedingafter eating. Then afterwards she chew with his teeth whom are situated inthe inside of the mouth. He is incessantly in the meadows in the grass."His only attacking and defending organ is the horn, specially so when he is got child. This is done by knowing his head whereby he causes the weaponsto be paralleled to the ground of the earth and instantly proceed with great velocity forwards."He has got tails also, but not like similar animals. It has hairs on theother end of the other side. This is done to frighten away the flies whichalight on his cohoa body whereupon he gives hit with it.The palms of his feet are soft unto the touch. So the grasses head is notcrushed. At night time have poses by looking down on the ground and he shoutshis eyes like his relatives, the horse does not do so.
"This is the cow."


P.S.: We are informed that the candidate passed the exam.

Mechanical Love: Blind Deaf and Dumb

For a mechanical engineering student, workshops are what a public loo is to a person in need of it. An unavoidable obligation to say the least. The usual Wednesday post lunch workshop returns you in post mortem status: Ghosts. Pale, exhausted, livid with life and its choices. The walk back to the room is not easy…especially when there are a whole bunch on non-mech ‘humans’ roaming around hissing at us, khakhi clad ghosts, and announcing, “Boss, T.C. chalega..?”The slow march back, under trembling thigh bones and unsteady calf muscles is just as pitiable as it sounds. The world does not seem to matter and it gets quiet when all seems futile: I could hear even the rubber sole under my canvas squeak. A feeble female count in the department and our behavior towards that small number, have rightfully earned us some queer titles. But Wednesday evenings, even our fundamental traits seem to lose vigour. As we pass by the 13th block; like Pavlov’s dog, our heads swivel around towards what normal guyz call eye candy. But mathematically, figuratively or genuinely Mech ≠ Normal.
And as we inch our way towards our shelters, the want for a soft comfy bed consumes our physical self. Climbing stairs is never more difficult. The knock on my door is then attended to. The door swings open and my roomie welcomes me with a smirk, gazing at my sweat drenched khakhi. A normal reaction in college life. I have done it too and hence shall not hold him guilty. After traversing 4 meters of my room in 20 seconds I look at the shelf, second one from the top. A piece of cast iron, once cut with a hack saw in my hand…
I turn a blind eye to my wet shirt, I turn a deaf ear to the mockery 15 minutes ago and I become speechless. I hold the piece in my palm and sit on the bed. With my back rested against the wall, my eyes plunge into sound slumber.
For all the blisters it presents me and all the joys it denies. I was blind deaf and dumb. I was in love, with gears, casting moulds, nuts and bolts. Love nonetheless.