Hero Of The Day

Under the overcast sky, the city burned,
The tide of the battle had definitely turned
Arrows rained down, bringing deadly fire;
Of soldiering on, few left had any desire.

Blood, wails and tears mixed in the streets,
Nothing now remained of the fighting fleets
Through the smoke, haze and despair of the remaining few;
Came a lone warrior, weapon in hand, vigor anew.

‘Don’t go out there’ they pleaded, ‘’tis a lost cause’,
The warrior walked on, without taking a pause
The howling winds carried back very few sounds;
The enemy could still be heard, baying like thirsty bloodhounds.

Walking out to the field of death, all he calmly surveyed,
Horribly outnumbered, had his options not been weighed?
Smirking, the enemy circled, waiting for the kill;
Any mortal would have felt his spine catch a chill.

Swords & arrows, axes and spears,
He conquered them all, and the city’s fears
The mysterious warrior had done it;
As the remaining enemies beat a hasty retreat.

The victor walked back to the city as it reveled,
He took no part, staying behind the mist, veiled
In the darkness, He crept out, leaving no trace;
The citizens lamented, trying to recall his face.

The skies cleared up, and more than the weather was perfect,
The city had been rebuilt, signs of war cleared away
His statue was put up in the town square, as a mark of respect;
And there he stood for eternity, the hero of the day.

The Pauper And The Princess

And the poetic naan-sense continues :P

Was it all a mistake, or was she indeed his life-saver?
How could he think of someone as ethereal as her!
The pauper can only dream of palaces beyond;
But alas! For him, there is no magic wand.

Her beauty was exquisite, her elegance resplendent,
A commoner’s praise could only be an affront
As she waved out to the thronging multitude;
He stayed away from the plaza, self-curfewed.

Blighted by the force of the stream, he flowed on,
What is ephemeral is not there, ‘twas long gone
Beyond the borders, the shadows lay waiting;
His plight, their opportunity; they tried baiting.

He took a pledge of not falling to the dark side,
He’d be the soldier, the person whom to confide
Honor and integrity would mark his actions;
He’d be strong and deep like the canyons.

Come rain, storm or hail,
He’d remain there for her
The rock to build on, the friend to call;
I’d be there for you.

Faces and Names

I'm feeling particularly poetic aajkal for some godforesaken reason.
Here goes the next poem then (hopefully won't be a torture):

In the nights, someone calls out to me,
I shout ‘Hark!’ Who may you be?
The face is new, the name is old;
And I am left standing, cold!

The gates open, memories flood in,
I’m moving on, is looking back a sin?
Why do past and present entangle;
Do complicate matters, my mind they mangle!

The shadows chase me, calling out my name,
I cower, hiding in the shadows, behind my shame
Wanted posters mock me, crying foul;
Making me wonder; am I human or ghoul!

Faces without names and names without faces,
They cross over without leaving any traces
I fight a battle that is lost, one that is futile;
I must complete the sentence, my solitary exile.

My Swinging Carousel

The lights have been turned down,
I’m the only one left in circus town
The neighbors revel in their carousal;
While I drive my swinging carousel.

People come, ride and go,
Giddy with adrenaline, they stagger out
While I prepare for the next show;
Bound by the dream that lies without.

The stars in the distance fade away,
As the dark night turns into day
The clowns troop in pantomime;
The show starts again, leaving me begrime.

The end of the day, the clowns are gone,
The lights dim again, waiting for the next dawn
One light remains, maintaining a lone vigil;
Driving my life, my swinging carousel.

Arbit goes to the Movies - Part Uno

One fine day, Arbit decided to watch an English movie dubbed in Hindi. For what reason, I have no idea. It's almost like committing movie-suicide. Imagine going to watch Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider. The auditorium goes dark. The credits roll. Lo and behold, you are watching 'Khoonkhar Sherni'!

I still remember when Arbit had dragged me to watch Spider-man first day first show. Now, there were no shows in English. I'm one who belongs to the school of thought that thinks movies should be seen in their original languages. IF it's incomprehensible, we can always use subtitles. But there was no such luxury for us back then. So we hunkered down to watch a high-adrenaline tale. Lights dimmed, the numbers rolled back, and we were subjected to Makkad Man. Pavitra Prabhakar gets bitten by a spider, becomes makkad man, romances Meera Jain, and earns the jealousy of his erstwhile friend, Hari.

Now, all this is fine. But I don't fathom why you need to change the names of the characters! It takes away from the effect. And then there were the dubs from across the border. Some studios in Pakistan released dubs of movies in Punjabi, funny on purpose. I recommend you check them out. Spiderman and Shanghai Noon are particularly brilliant.

So, I just shuddered as Arbit went in. I could only wait for the next 2 hours.


A few days ago, Arbit decided to learn martial arts. For self-protection, he said. With all that increasing crime rate, it would be good for him. The next day, he went and enrolled in the Chung Lee School of Martial Arts. I was not impressed.

Cynical, do I hear you say? Now, Arbit is hardly the fellow you associate with mind-numbingly high levels of concentration or dedication. In fact, he once decided to go exercising. The first day, he called me up. 'Dude, I feel amazing. I ran for 2 Kms, then did some crunches in the ground and came back home. I feel energized. Bring on the world, I say!' Two days later, he had quit. ('I'll pick it up after my metabolism increases. Otherwise I'll over-strain myself.')

So you can now see the reason for my skepticism with Arbit's new plan. Anyhow, he started going for Kung-fu classes daily. Now, real Kung-fu warriors can be very scary people. I remember that anecdote (which I believe to be true BTW) about two Kung-fu masters who were talking about their prowess.
"My reflexes are such that you will not believe," boasted Master Yo, drew his sword, sliced at a passing fly, which promptly dropped dead in two pieces. "That's nothing," said Master Da. Drawing his sword, he made two deft cuts at another passing fly. Master Yo was highly amused. "What are you talking about?" he sneered. "That fly is still flying." "Ah yes," replied Master Da, "but now it can never have children." That's a tough guy.

Arbit on the other hand, is not. So it was no surprise that when Everyone was Kung-fu fighting, he picked up a injury and rolled out of class. We were having cold coffee when he decided to unleash another round of his jokes.
A: 'Why doesn't a married man take his in-laws to a kung-fu session?'
M: 'So that they don't get hurt, or in your case, don't want them to see him get beat up.'
A: 'Nopes. Otherwise they could impose martial law.'
M: 'Shut up dude.'

Introducing Arbit

'What's the song playing on an American soldier's iPod in Iraq?'
'Enlighten me. I never get your jokes anyway.'
'Hah. Knew you wouldn't get it. Anyway, it should be 'Oil is Well'.'

That's the sense of humor that Arbit has. Or should I say, non-sense of humor. And you dare not show the slightest interest in his jokes, otherwise he'll bombard you with them till the end of time. Or 23rd December, 2012. Whichever comes later.*  That is the mistake I once made. I smiled at a joke of his. And have paid for that indiscretion ever since.

Now, Arbit is not someone who you can categorize easily. The Sanskrit phrase Yatra Tatra Sarvatra comes to mind to describe him. He might have been on the iceberg when Titanic sank. He might have been on the asteroid when the dinosaurs decided to play fossil. From the start of time, till the end of it, Arbit may be anywhere and everywhere.

So let us venture into the world of Arbit. I'll hazard to strike up a conversation with this crazy guy, and find out some interesting anecdotes from him for you people. Till then, I have to leave you with another of Arbit's stupid jokes.

Arbit (A): 'Dude, what's the name of the movie that Apple produced?'
Poor Hapless Soul, Me (M): 'Oh, I know this. (Smug look. You see, I see a lot of movies. Here) Toy Story, Cars, Wall-E, the one with the rat. They're coming out with Toy Story 3 this summer.'
A: 'Shut up man. That's Pixar. Not Apple.'
M: 'Tell me then.'
A: 'iRobot'.
M: '#%^%&&%$%%$#%%#'

 *Mayan Conditions Apply

Ladies and Guys

A thousand apologies. This is Swagat here. I am back for good. One fine day, I went missing from my fledgling blog, and left you all, my faithful and beloved readers, in the lurch.

Now, I am not ashamed to say this, but I had abandoned all hope of ever coming back. You see, I was suffering from acute writer's block. Of course, it wasn't cute for you lot (How many times have we heard that joke now? Stop it!) as you patiently logged into A-R waiting for a post, which of course, was not there. I sat in a corner whimpering away to glory, when it became clear to me that I had hit a thick reinforced concrete Great Wall of China sized writer's block.

Then, two things happened. First, I started thinking about the adventures of a friend of mine. He has been in some amazing situations all through his life. Why not write about him? (After taking permission obviously. He's the sort of chap you take permission from before speaking anything about.) And secondly, said friend took over my blog and posted! From my blog! Blaming me of abandoning all you wonderful people. I, being the tactically brilliant Bihari I am (What? You never heard of the kind? Preposterous!), confronted him. "Man, why did you post from my blog?" I must tell you, faithful readers, that his response shattered my complacency. Apparently, he was going to keep posting till he managed to bring me out of my apathy. He calls it the 'Shock Till Aww' strategy. There still is a draft about a World War between Dogs and Langurs lurking in the background. Mind-numbing!

Well, his strategy seems to have worked all right. I will post regularly now. I plan to bring to light this man's deeds. Allow me to search for a worthy opener, wherein I can introduce him to you formally.

Death Of A Blog

Today, we are all gathered here, to mourn the passing of an era. That doyen of blogs, the shining light of all blogosphere, passed into the darkness. We failed to take note, thinking it was just a momentary lapse, but it truly has come to this, faithful readers. Arbit raag has hit the nadir of one blog visit in the entire week. If that's true, there's no use writing this because the only reader would be me, and writing to myself is not a good idea.

The major blame for this fiasco is being laid right at the doorstep of one Swagat Sinha, who apparently has the task of writing on this blog, but has failed to do so apart from the odd 2-liner. The outrage against him was so great, he decided to hide in an underground cellar till 2012, hoping everyone else would be gone by then.

But we shall overcome, shan't we? We shall continue posting, we shall try and breathe life in this old relic. And maybe that guy will come out of that cellar.