Monday, December 12, 2011


The night was clear and unbearably still.
And dark. So very dark.
Almost fitting given the nature of the deed to be done.
My companion led the way with purposeful strides, his manner a 
display of deadly grace.
And malevolence.
He gestured for me to follow silently.
Under the cover of the night we entered the village, unseen.
The huts were built haphazardly, and all over the place.
His lips curled in distaste.
The arid ground cracked under our feet sending up tiny clouds of dust.
A dog let out a pitiful howl in the distance.
A sudden shuffling in the shack nearby got my attention.
I grasped the weapon at my side and stood coiled, ready to strike.
A false alarm.
My companion seemed unfazed. Almost bored at the interruption.
It was evident that he’d done this many times before.
With a boost, we launched ourselves on to the rooftops.
Silent as shadows, we made our way into the periphery of the village.
Minutes later, I noticed he had stopped, his silhouette as still as a statue.
He was staring down intently at a ramshackle hut.
A faded, green door caked with dust, hung loosely off its hinges.
Our eyes met, and the nod that followed told me we had reached.
The clouds moved. We entered.
A sliver of moonlight shone through a window, illuminating what
we were looking for. Behind a wispy curtain, she lay on the
ground, shaking slightly. With a single fluid movement he reached her side,
making no more noise than a spirit. Wordlessly, he held out his hand in askance,
and I handed him his weapon. He stared at her for a long moment,
almost as if drinking in the hopelessness of her situation. His sudden fevered
breaths were in stark contrast to her ragged, shallow ones. Her eyes fluttered open.
A second later it widened in terror. His own flashed a remorseless crimson.
And with a savage smile, he moved in for the kill.
We watched with grim fascination as she clawed at her throat.
After what seemed like hours she emanated a horrible, guttural sound,
and her tiny feet twitched for the last time.
He surveyed his work with satisfaction. And handed me
back the weapon with a grateful nod. I dutifully kept at my side.
We had many more huts to visit that night.

Thirst is a killer. Wasting water makes you the accomplice.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011


In a life spanning 23 years, 8 months & some days, experience has been a good teacher. Wisdom ensued. The order of their appearance denotes their significance to me:

Bill Watterson IS God. The Veyron is nothing, nothing compared to the Batmobile. My Yezdi is the finest machine made by man. A beer with the boys makes for the best Sundays. Girls enjoy 3rd base just as much. My world tour is a little farther off than I first imagined. Colour does to art directors what shine does to goldfish. The surf in Bali is not nearly as good as the babes. The girlfriend was a slut and the butler did indeed, do it.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Creatives, unite!

Probably the most important oath in your life.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Of brands, labels and the universe in between


"Those" things that occupy "that" corner of a store,

which tell you things that you have no interest in learning,

which slip by unnoticed even when in plain sight,

have all the traits a label.

But a voice that disrupts, incites, excites or inspires;

which innovates,

and which tips the status quo;

These are the qualities of a brand.

Labels are just inventory.

The other seeks immortality.

Monday, September 19, 2011

I'll see you at the Gin Joint

*Intertwines all fingers, stretches hands outward, cracks knuckles in preparation*

I'm back. Granted, after a hiatus that extended over a year. So sue me!

Ok please don't. Moving on. What's caught my fancy lately? What issues have put a bee in my bonnet? What's got my ears perked up and what's got my eye balls in a twitch(in a good way)? Well ironically it's another blog. Actually I don't know why that's ironic.

If you have chanced on it before, (or if you're the type to jump the gun and click on a link as soon as you see one) you'll gather, without the aid of any great deductive prowess,that I'm personally acquainted with the writer. So, is this a trick to get him more more views and increase his blog traffic? A hand in glove operation? A run-of-the-mill advertising con job? Hardly. The blog is a films review blog. Like the millions that already plague the internet. Things you should probably know about me at this point: I'm not generous with compliments. The writer has given me every reason to call him a loser. I'm not generous with compliments.

This being said, the said blog is awesome. He knows what he's talking about and is well aware of the distinction between movies and films. The films he critiques are the kind people really want to know about. It's systematic and organised, complete with a rating system that'll put a smile on the lips of every alcohol drinker in Bangalore. It's creative, and the cherry on top is the writing. In my opinion, it's some bloody good writing. It's sarcastic, emotional, blunt, humourous and then some. To anybody with a eye for craft of the written word, you're in for a treat. Film buffs, funnily enough there might be something in here for you too. So there you have it. It is my unprofessional opinion that this bugger ain't half bad at this review thing. Chances are it might come across as something completely ordinary for you'll out there. I guess it appeals to me because, like i said before, I know the guy. With that authority i'll tell you that it's easy to underestimate him. And i'm quite proud of myself for not doing so. So give it a read folks, and you be the critic.