America! America!!
Whence came the love of this land?
Chances aplenty they say;
Prod ‘em long and they’d say
Chances aplenty but they take.
Greenbacks have turned us green
The trend can’t be turned by any hand.
If your folks are in America seen,
simply know if they are at the Bay
and ask if they’d ever come back to Motherland!
Sunday, July 4, 2010
For the Ball
‘Twas a weekend the world couldn’t wait for;
‘twas a game none could miss for
‘twas against a side the most pined for;
History were the Albicelestes made of
The Deutschen, as steady as a rock and full of
determination were. The latter hammered one
after the other. Four to zero and they’d sure won.
Upsets marked 2010. The quarters said them all.
Game after game, the titans were but made to fall.
The finale next Sun is something we simply are waiting for.
-Metafore
‘twas a game none could miss for
‘twas against a side the most pined for;
History were the Albicelestes made of
The Deutschen, as steady as a rock and full of
determination were. The latter hammered one
after the other. Four to zero and they’d sure won.
Upsets marked 2010. The quarters said them all.
Game after game, the titans were but made to fall.
The finale next Sun is something we simply are waiting for.
-Metafore
Monday, June 7, 2010
Fancying Punches
“I know you’re a daddy now. If the project doesn’t get completed at the earliest, you’ll soon be a Mummy!”
Forceful dialogue is something all of us fancy and rightfully so. It may however border on the amusing, if people make a conscious effort to make grand statements all the time. Like the chap who said in staccato fashion -‘When you gotta shoot, just shoot. Don’t talk’ - the legendary line from The Good, The Bad & The Ugly. He apparently was only egging his buddy on to finish up the work in double time. But even for the mildest cynic, he was probably trying to show off his taste for classics or simply his reverence for quotes. If the author were to be in our friend’s place, he might have taken a meaner route to see that no time was wasted in work and later perhaps had a nice little chat on Sergio Leone and his brand of films, of how Clint Eastwood suited the role and why the lines from the film became history.
What have people achieved by often spewing big lines, famous and otherwise? Once a person becomes predictable in his/her style of talking, it wouldn’t be hard for others to smirk and nod their heads to all he or she utters. The author had asked of an acquaintance, who he had wrongly assumed was a good friend as to why she didn’t bother to stay in touch. Her reply came pat “I’m hermit-like and prefer to remain a recluse! When people need my help, I’m there for them.” Intentions were perhaps true and honest, but the way the words came out simply smacked of pomp. Such lines would probably serve to offend the other person at the least, if he/she were to be slightly more discerning. There’s every chance that people firing punch lines are looked on as having stock ideas in mind and center their conversations on those ideas. Typically they’d visualize the world as revolving around them. Narcissists if you please. The author uses the word, as inflated ego is a very essential ingredient of Narcissism. Their views are generally contrary to reality and tend to be exaggerated.
Using quotes per se is not a mean thing at all, lest the reader begins to assume what he’s reading is a tirade against one liners and quotes. They do act as garnishing to a conversation and help make it spicy. A line referred to as a line has always found favor with audiences. A dialogue which warrants quotes is bound to be an extremely interesting one. There was this gentleman who was talking about how we take ourselves too seriously and that we look at life like we are on battlefield. His talk was agreeable in parts no doubt. What impressed some of us was the way he signed off, quoting Sir Charles Chaplin. “In the end, everything is a gag!” On the contrary, sample this. A bloke who generally felt the world around him was divided in every way was always caught making statements that begin with, “You see there are two kinds of people in this world…” While it cannot be denied that two-kinds-of-people lines are hugely popular, excessive usage of those lines in normal conversations may strip variety off the dialogue.
Without more ado, lets just suffice to say that variety is the spice of language as much as it is of life. Preserve variety and get rid of stereotypes!
-Met
Forceful dialogue is something all of us fancy and rightfully so. It may however border on the amusing, if people make a conscious effort to make grand statements all the time. Like the chap who said in staccato fashion -‘When you gotta shoot, just shoot. Don’t talk’ - the legendary line from The Good, The Bad & The Ugly. He apparently was only egging his buddy on to finish up the work in double time. But even for the mildest cynic, he was probably trying to show off his taste for classics or simply his reverence for quotes. If the author were to be in our friend’s place, he might have taken a meaner route to see that no time was wasted in work and later perhaps had a nice little chat on Sergio Leone and his brand of films, of how Clint Eastwood suited the role and why the lines from the film became history.
What have people achieved by often spewing big lines, famous and otherwise? Once a person becomes predictable in his/her style of talking, it wouldn’t be hard for others to smirk and nod their heads to all he or she utters. The author had asked of an acquaintance, who he had wrongly assumed was a good friend as to why she didn’t bother to stay in touch. Her reply came pat “I’m hermit-like and prefer to remain a recluse! When people need my help, I’m there for them.” Intentions were perhaps true and honest, but the way the words came out simply smacked of pomp. Such lines would probably serve to offend the other person at the least, if he/she were to be slightly more discerning. There’s every chance that people firing punch lines are looked on as having stock ideas in mind and center their conversations on those ideas. Typically they’d visualize the world as revolving around them. Narcissists if you please. The author uses the word, as inflated ego is a very essential ingredient of Narcissism. Their views are generally contrary to reality and tend to be exaggerated.
Using quotes per se is not a mean thing at all, lest the reader begins to assume what he’s reading is a tirade against one liners and quotes. They do act as garnishing to a conversation and help make it spicy. A line referred to as a line has always found favor with audiences. A dialogue which warrants quotes is bound to be an extremely interesting one. There was this gentleman who was talking about how we take ourselves too seriously and that we look at life like we are on battlefield. His talk was agreeable in parts no doubt. What impressed some of us was the way he signed off, quoting Sir Charles Chaplin. “In the end, everything is a gag!” On the contrary, sample this. A bloke who generally felt the world around him was divided in every way was always caught making statements that begin with, “You see there are two kinds of people in this world…” While it cannot be denied that two-kinds-of-people lines are hugely popular, excessive usage of those lines in normal conversations may strip variety off the dialogue.
Without more ado, lets just suffice to say that variety is the spice of language as much as it is of life. Preserve variety and get rid of stereotypes!
-Met
Sunday, February 7, 2010
A Weak Two Weeks
The day of the delivery of the big project was two weeks away. The client was nervous, given that the whole business worked on the offshore model, and sending critical and highly visible work to the East was apparently a gamble for them.
The run up to the D-day was not extremely hectic and there was plenty of time to plan the execution out. Things had gone without a hitch so far. And that’s perhaps why the nerves of the blessed soul working on the project were all bundled up. The calm before the storm is generally eerie and this was no exception. Roy, working solely for the client, was ever mindful of Monday the 10th. He had only himself to parley with, for that alone seemed to work well to iron out uncertainties.
“Heck, I shouldn’t let these people down, but there’s so much of data that there’s bound to be a miss somewhere!” said Roy. “But what makes you think you’re going to miss something?” This was the collective voice of his nerves, which were actually putting up a brave act of composure. “Well, the tone of the clients is very alarmist and panicky.” His nervous system dropped guard for a moment, but came back with a reassuring, “You know that’s the way they are. It’s not them you’re worried about, but the output at the end. Just think the data is most critical to you.” Our friend thought he felt better and resumed his work. Before long, it was weekend and Roy watched films and birds. It was now Monday and there was still a week to go. The emails were all harmless, save for one, which really didn’t mean harm. “Hi Roy, you know we have a week to go and I hope everything is on course?” This time, Roy’s nerves broke the silence. “Man, you’re sure you’ve got everything covered?” He was now at his irresolute best. He revisited all the files and put automated quality checks in place, but wasn’t at peace anyway. Roy felt his nervous system had only served to make his days terrible.
It was consequential that he resolved to wreck his nerves, obviously in sub consciousness. It’s the next weekend already now and time to rebuild all of it, if only for dear life that would be at stake come Monday.
-Met
The run up to the D-day was not extremely hectic and there was plenty of time to plan the execution out. Things had gone without a hitch so far. And that’s perhaps why the nerves of the blessed soul working on the project were all bundled up. The calm before the storm is generally eerie and this was no exception. Roy, working solely for the client, was ever mindful of Monday the 10th. He had only himself to parley with, for that alone seemed to work well to iron out uncertainties.
“Heck, I shouldn’t let these people down, but there’s so much of data that there’s bound to be a miss somewhere!” said Roy. “But what makes you think you’re going to miss something?” This was the collective voice of his nerves, which were actually putting up a brave act of composure. “Well, the tone of the clients is very alarmist and panicky.” His nervous system dropped guard for a moment, but came back with a reassuring, “You know that’s the way they are. It’s not them you’re worried about, but the output at the end. Just think the data is most critical to you.” Our friend thought he felt better and resumed his work. Before long, it was weekend and Roy watched films and birds. It was now Monday and there was still a week to go. The emails were all harmless, save for one, which really didn’t mean harm. “Hi Roy, you know we have a week to go and I hope everything is on course?” This time, Roy’s nerves broke the silence. “Man, you’re sure you’ve got everything covered?” He was now at his irresolute best. He revisited all the files and put automated quality checks in place, but wasn’t at peace anyway. Roy felt his nervous system had only served to make his days terrible.
It was consequential that he resolved to wreck his nerves, obviously in sub consciousness. It’s the next weekend already now and time to rebuild all of it, if only for dear life that would be at stake come Monday.
-Met
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Flash Fiction
Wikipedia says "Flash fiction is fiction of extreme brevity. There is no widely accepted definition of the length of the category. Some self-described markets for flash fiction impose caps as low as 300, while others consider stories as long as 1000 words to be flash fiction".
The following is the first of my attempts at this form of writing. Looking forward to brickbats, along with bouquets!
-Met
The following is the first of my attempts at this form of writing. Looking forward to brickbats, along with bouquets!
-Met
Of Glances!
Yesterday, I rented this film from the local rental. The store chap was no more in the know about it than I was. It was not the most popular one to have hit the screens, but had made some noises when it was released. With an intriguing name as ‘Loubonamy’ for an English flick which meant gibberish at best, I was quite eager to watch it at the first available opportunity. I had decided against surfing the internet to read more, given that it was common knowledge that it had abysmal rating on IMDB.
Eara, my beloved and a greater film buff than me, was almost getting done with the wooly she was knitting. Loubonamy reining our thoughts, we were done with our prior occupations very soon and all set to get the film started. A thought gradually came over. Was it one of those B-movies that came and went under the guise of parallel cinema? I didn’t want to counter Eara’s knowing glances in the next few minutes if it was indeed so. She wasn’t loath to sexual matters in any way, but certainly wouldn’t want to end a Saturday evening reserved for great cinema with repulsive images of lust. The credits started to roll. I noticed that the film had not been made by any of the studios I could recognize. Taking my optimism to greater heights, I reckoned that it was perhaps made by extremely creative & independent film makers who didn’t win great support from the big bosses.I stopped concentrating on the names and began an impatient wait for the real picture, as the images in the background now were generally of little spots of light flashing on and off.
The film started spectacularly, with a car chase. But when the talking happened, it was English all right, but with a more-than-liberal dose of seemingly meaningless words. Eara said she wanted it on pause, while I could check the internet for what it really was all about. Google search led us to a website that congratulated on our being some millionth visitors to a one-stop-shop for all ‘accessories’!
I did get Eara’s glances after all!
Eara, my beloved and a greater film buff than me, was almost getting done with the wooly she was knitting. Loubonamy reining our thoughts, we were done with our prior occupations very soon and all set to get the film started. A thought gradually came over. Was it one of those B-movies that came and went under the guise of parallel cinema? I didn’t want to counter Eara’s knowing glances in the next few minutes if it was indeed so. She wasn’t loath to sexual matters in any way, but certainly wouldn’t want to end a Saturday evening reserved for great cinema with repulsive images of lust. The credits started to roll. I noticed that the film had not been made by any of the studios I could recognize. Taking my optimism to greater heights, I reckoned that it was perhaps made by extremely creative & independent film makers who didn’t win great support from the big bosses.I stopped concentrating on the names and began an impatient wait for the real picture, as the images in the background now were generally of little spots of light flashing on and off.
The film started spectacularly, with a car chase. But when the talking happened, it was English all right, but with a more-than-liberal dose of seemingly meaningless words. Eara said she wanted it on pause, while I could check the internet for what it really was all about. Google search led us to a website that congratulated on our being some millionth visitors to a one-stop-shop for all ‘accessories’!
I did get Eara’s glances after all!
Friday, November 27, 2009
Stranded!
Hi! I’m one of the few survivors on the shiny surface of the great Mr. Jack’s noggin. His name really is Jakaram Gafur, but he has always taken a fancy for shortened westernized names, and ‘Jack ‘is but consequential.
During his heyday, when he was all of twenty five, and when there was a lot of might in his arms, we were a happier lot. For starters, there were many of us. I had my position right on top of the pate, while there were so many on the extreme left and right, and the new wave flowing down to the neck. Not to forget a strip running alongside his big wide ears! That was some crop, really! We were a well groomed lot, and we smacked of richness. Jack would carry us on him to places high and mighty! We all got to see the hottest looking lasses in sizzling attire, we got to see men with crop as great as ours, but in varied styles.
The scene was slightly different when Jack was a student though. He would use coconut oil to see that we stayed strong and healthy. I never got an opportunity to sniff myself, but my neighbors didn’t smell great anyway! In fact, I haven’t rued my life on his top more than the extent to which I did those days! It used to remind me of the ghettos of the turbulent past. A bunch of seniors and I used to regularly agree that he needed to learn a thing or two about fashion and good looks! Hell, he used to stifle us with a round cap quite porous in nature, which was but a lid on our freedom. I remember one chap quipping about the dome, which would fall on us once a week. “Gentlemen, get ready for the blindfolded walk!”
One day, somebody suggested that he had it in him to be a model. Chiseled features, what? Of course, Mr. Somebody also told him that he had a fantastic mop which only added to his appeal! Beautiful people, weren’t we? So off set Jack, to a nearby studio. The bloke behind the lens did a fine job of capturing him in complete style. Armed with a portfolio, Jack met a famous designer the next day and it was the beginning of an era of fame and fortune. ‘Jackie Walker’, his bosom pal had apparently called him! Our lot started seeing better days. Gel! We could finally say we gelled well with Jack! A thick and a caring shampoo , and a comfortable shower from warm white water diving from fancy bath fittings later, it used to be time for the crystal blue paste (what everyone prefers to call Gel), to get spread on us. Wow! That was some massage! And we just became more fragrant! In length we grew, and in strength as well.
We basked in such glory for a good few years before I started seeing some of my buddies just vanishing. They were the ones who stood at the front. I reckon it’s a universal phenomenon that people at the front are the ones who give their lives, be it war or the head. His forehead clearing out, everyone could see the lines of worry writ large across. And we were worried no less! Jack’s friends said it was hereditary, and the blighter accepted it. Those were the days when treating loss of folks like me wasn’t very popular and was extremely expensive. So he just let be! It was sheer apathy, we felt. It was about the same time that his contract with his studio bosses terminated. His dad, who had none of our ilk on his head, strongly advised him to quit walking about and help him in business. And that my friend, signaled the beginning of the end!
As I tell you this, I hold one of the last remaining bastions of hope. I’m frail, and I’ve lost color. I along with others have grayed with age. I’m not long enough anymore. Sun light hurts me, as it does to his head. I need to be cut regularly, so that he doesn’t look like Einstein. I haven’t smelled gel in years. We are a dried up lot now. Mind you, his sideburns are still a stronger patch, and an attraction. It probably helped them to have remained on the sidelines!
In a while, Jack will set off to visit a chap who claims to bring back my folks, from the dead. I personally haven’t bought the idea, but one cannot question science. I have lived my life on one head, and seen great and not-so-great times. I’m not too keen on meeting an entirely new bunch of artificially created sprouts who, in every possibility will be showing off. Gosh, please help me tide over the coming ordeal and have a natural passage! I’m stranded like never before!!!
During his heyday, when he was all of twenty five, and when there was a lot of might in his arms, we were a happier lot. For starters, there were many of us. I had my position right on top of the pate, while there were so many on the extreme left and right, and the new wave flowing down to the neck. Not to forget a strip running alongside his big wide ears! That was some crop, really! We were a well groomed lot, and we smacked of richness. Jack would carry us on him to places high and mighty! We all got to see the hottest looking lasses in sizzling attire, we got to see men with crop as great as ours, but in varied styles.
The scene was slightly different when Jack was a student though. He would use coconut oil to see that we stayed strong and healthy. I never got an opportunity to sniff myself, but my neighbors didn’t smell great anyway! In fact, I haven’t rued my life on his top more than the extent to which I did those days! It used to remind me of the ghettos of the turbulent past. A bunch of seniors and I used to regularly agree that he needed to learn a thing or two about fashion and good looks! Hell, he used to stifle us with a round cap quite porous in nature, which was but a lid on our freedom. I remember one chap quipping about the dome, which would fall on us once a week. “Gentlemen, get ready for the blindfolded walk!”
One day, somebody suggested that he had it in him to be a model. Chiseled features, what? Of course, Mr. Somebody also told him that he had a fantastic mop which only added to his appeal! Beautiful people, weren’t we? So off set Jack, to a nearby studio. The bloke behind the lens did a fine job of capturing him in complete style. Armed with a portfolio, Jack met a famous designer the next day and it was the beginning of an era of fame and fortune. ‘Jackie Walker’, his bosom pal had apparently called him! Our lot started seeing better days. Gel! We could finally say we gelled well with Jack! A thick and a caring shampoo , and a comfortable shower from warm white water diving from fancy bath fittings later, it used to be time for the crystal blue paste (what everyone prefers to call Gel), to get spread on us. Wow! That was some massage! And we just became more fragrant! In length we grew, and in strength as well.
We basked in such glory for a good few years before I started seeing some of my buddies just vanishing. They were the ones who stood at the front. I reckon it’s a universal phenomenon that people at the front are the ones who give their lives, be it war or the head. His forehead clearing out, everyone could see the lines of worry writ large across. And we were worried no less! Jack’s friends said it was hereditary, and the blighter accepted it. Those were the days when treating loss of folks like me wasn’t very popular and was extremely expensive. So he just let be! It was sheer apathy, we felt. It was about the same time that his contract with his studio bosses terminated. His dad, who had none of our ilk on his head, strongly advised him to quit walking about and help him in business. And that my friend, signaled the beginning of the end!
As I tell you this, I hold one of the last remaining bastions of hope. I’m frail, and I’ve lost color. I along with others have grayed with age. I’m not long enough anymore. Sun light hurts me, as it does to his head. I need to be cut regularly, so that he doesn’t look like Einstein. I haven’t smelled gel in years. We are a dried up lot now. Mind you, his sideburns are still a stronger patch, and an attraction. It probably helped them to have remained on the sidelines!
In a while, Jack will set off to visit a chap who claims to bring back my folks, from the dead. I personally haven’t bought the idea, but one cannot question science. I have lived my life on one head, and seen great and not-so-great times. I’m not too keen on meeting an entirely new bunch of artificially created sprouts who, in every possibility will be showing off. Gosh, please help me tide over the coming ordeal and have a natural passage! I’m stranded like never before!!!
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