Totally Authentic Random Unprecedented Nutcase

18th August 2014: Today morning my phone's calender app reminded me that it happens to be Parsi New Year or Navroz.    ( Har rooz-etaan Noroz, for what its worth! ) So I logged on to Facebook (a morning ritual) and decided to wish a happy new year to my Parsi friends. It was then that I realized that I can't recall a single Parsi friend over the top of my head. Sure, a customized search revealed a couple of them but to my utter surprise, I never thought of them as Parsi; which led to the realization that friends are friends and their religion is one aspect that I did not consider until just then. So I decided to play a mind game. Take one factor at random, like religion, caste, eye color etc. Something that the society tends to segregate people on and think of how many friends or acquaintances you can name based on that fact. The trick is not to think too much, just try to say the thing out loud, (like Brahmin Caste) and see how many of your friends' names ...

Thank you dad, For not being there, When I won that race. And when I lost The next one, And needed to save face. Thank you for not cheering When I got that soccer cup. And not missing any chance, Of scolding when I messed up. Thank you for not saving me, When that bully’s punch I took. For telling me to be a man, When from a nightmare I shook. Thank you for that TLC That I never received. For letting me know, every time, That in me, you didn’t believe. Now as I take my rightful place, In this civilized society. I laugh, I cry and I deal with, Men of every variety. And as I fall, I see them laugh, But I get up and going. And I don’t fret when I can’t reap, The prize of efforts, I’m sowing. I win, I lose, I beg, I chose, And take it all in stride. I make mistakes, I learn from them, It’s all part of the ride. And I look back and realize, My childhood, indeed, has made me wise. You let me fall so I could r...

The one whom I took As my best of mate. His affection has gone, Quite down of late. Should I tell him, On his face? Or should I wait And watch time race? A woman preferred Over a friend. Does the friendship, Right here end? Shouldn’t I be good, And accept the change? Or should I be mean, And seek revenge? Often when An enemy strikes, We hit back, With equal likes. But what do we do, When it comes from a friend? And he knows not, Till the end. You hide your tears For his sake. But the ice, Shouldn’t he break? Shouldn’t he unwind The knot in you? Shouldn’t he be kind, Shouldn’t he be true? Shouldn’t he take Your hand and say, “Whatever happens, I will be there.” When you most need him, He’s never found. Yet why do you Always hang around? Is it because, You can’t let go? You are indebted, Is it so? You feel obliged, For the pains he took. To put you right, When you ...

Raman was born under the watchful eye of his grandmother. She was the first one to pick him up, after the nurse of course, and she was the one who gave him his name. His mom and dad were both educated and working, while his grandmother was of the generation that believes in training a girl for responsibilities of being a house-wife rather than wasting her time and resources in a school and treating a boy like he is God’s gift to mankind. Raman’s father however was a very wise man and he considered his own upbringing to be extremely satisfactory and given the fact that he loved his mom and considered her an expert in rearing children (she had 5 kids!), young Raman was handed over to her from day one. Raman had very brief encounters with his own mother, mostly for breast-feeding and occasionally for being cajoled into sleeping or other pursuits when grandmother wanted to catch a break and/or the latest episode of her daily soap. So in all, Raman was brought up by his grandmother....

When I was very young, being an only child, I yearned to express myself to others. The only audience I had were my parents and grandparents, and they weren't much. When I went to school, my anxiety eased a little but not enough because I always wanted a bigger and better platform. I guess this blog stems from that deep, subconscious need of mine. I welcome you, fair reader, to enjoy the quirks that my sick brain is capable of producing. I don't really care about your feedback, for the most parts, but any suggestions of corrections and about omissions (unintended ones) will be surely welcome. - Tarun Kumar P.S. - The last couple of lines means that you can scream all you want about how you totally think that I am the Devil Incarnate or shower praises and compare me to Jesus himself, either ways, I don't give a damn!