Thursday, January 27, 2011


Trickles of moisture were strewn across the glasses of an aging bay window of solid oak. On one side lay the gently undulating densely woodded valley doted by the occasional settlement. The mellow golden rays of the setting sun cloaked the entire valley. The distant lake glistened like a full-bodied Cognac. The ethereal light melted into the few clouds in an otherwise clear sky. A regal Red Cedar, on a slope just outside the corner of the window, basked in the idyllic glory. Orchids and daisies graced the flowerbed right outside the window.

The honeyed light diffused through the windows and bathed the entire drawing room transcending it into a blissful haven. Exquisite mahogany, faded with time, elegantly ornated the floor. An imposing yet subtle Victorian fireplace lay to the right of the window. An opulent hand sewn faded green leather high back chair, with its wide stitches and the matching Ottoman faced away from the fireplace. A thick leather jacketed book, face down, lay open on a three legged woodden stool beside the chair. Above the fireplace, hung an oil painting of a delightful damsel with long golden hair and clad in a lavish serene frilled white gown wearing a lone necklace, playing the lute. On the other side of the fireplace where it curved on to the next wall, stood the piano. Graced by an intricate flower vase and a piano stool, dark and rich, the august piano with its formidable legs swanked the place.

On the wall perpendicular to the window, stood a massive cabinet. Towering over the otherwise empty wall, the sturdy mahogany form was stacked with rows of books along with photo frames and other trinkets. A pale silver coloured metal statue, of a glaring knight with a sword, stood in a corner. Nearby on the floor was a tall cylindrical basket of broad panels which served as an umbrella stand. The bountifully plastered walls were adorned with a floral pattern, on which, time had taken its toll.

A not too elegant but neither a modest chandelier of glass and brass was suspended from the ceiling. Plentiful affluent curtains hung on either side of the window and were fastened by a cloth belt. Handcrafted of the finest felt and patched with select leather, the deep pale red plush couch was amply cushioned and contoured to accommodate the curves of the body. Unpretentious Windsor chairs of solid teak, with armrests, were on either side of the couch. A sinfully opulent, bold mustard coloured carpet lay on the floor .A humble, unassuming woodden serving table was right in front of the couch.

The smooth soft brownish golden hair glistened in the lukewarm light. With a stocky head, deep chested and drooping ears, a Golden Retriever cosily lay, flat against the belly, on the carpet keenly looking at pair of light blue floaters beneath the couch. A half empty bottle of red wine and two almost empty chic wine glasses were on the table. Nearby lay a bowl of chips and in a smaller bowl, a flavoursome dip. On the couch were a couple, warmly nestled into each other, gazing into a large and fancy photo album.

With his feet flat on the ground, the man was sitting near the window and had a pair of spotless fashionable black leather shoes on him. Broad chested with a prominent jaw, crisp hair, sharp features and long legs, he wore a soothing beige pair of chinos and a deep blue coloured turtleneck. The album firmly rested his thigh and had one hand positioned to flip the album. Milk complexioned, flawless skin, chestnut coloured flowing silky hair, sparkling eyes, thin eyebrows, sharp nose and lucid tender lips and of the perfect height, the lady was endearing. In flannel grey pajamas and thick woollen socks donning a thin creamy yellow sweater of the finest wool, she snuggled on to the man. She eased her head on his shoulder and rested her legs sideways, one on another, on the couch. The only visible pieces of jewellery were a part of a silver chain on her slender neck and singular diamond studded gold ring on her right ring finger. One hand on the corner of an album, the other was buried deep between the couch and her legs. Her lips were curved into a dainty smile.

Mirthful, with smiles on their lips, they were intimate and blissful.

Monday, January 24, 2011


“GloomBoomDoom” thunders Marc Faber. The cycle holds true for the secondary markets; should also hold true for life itself, after all analogies are drawn from our lives. I don’t remember the “Gloom” and the “Boom” now is a fading sequence of sepia film frames. The “Doom”, a nose dive, from the towering heights is blatantly pungent and acerbic. Along with a world awaiting a boom, I await the “Gloom”.

By enlarge it was a rat race down the trodden tracks, though it varied accordingly to the means of each one. The very race I imperiously stepped out to beat, strangled me like a rat. Thousands of instances of rats shooting out of the tracks to unprecedented glory, but one conscious step outside the same turned out disastrous. Apparently, as in Vegas, “one can never beat the house”, holds true, here the system. With arrogant confidence and probably pig-headed, I tried, again and again, numerous times to beat the system, only to be smothered each time. And now, I try to join the race again, only to find myself miles behind those who were trailing me or were alongside.

Yes, I solely am the accused, rightly so, for the mess. I can massage my sore ego with the fact that, keeping at bay the divine and human forces, I penned my fate. But the forces of nature did try to!, with a neural Glioma. Well, so far I’m one up but have to await the future. The rats have now grown horns and extra legs and are on a different playing field altogether. I can but do choose from one of these options, engulf myself in a wave of self-pity or smile and shrug it off. I mostly pull of the latter but on rare occasions the wave washes me over.

One word springs to the mind. PARODY. An obscure, intricate dull-witted satire directed by “Force Majeure” and me the protagonist, albeit with a freehand. I along with the viewers, am not quite sure if there are any, eagerly look forward to the ending. The reaction to which, either of these, a sigh of relief after one hell of a roller coaster ride or a wry smile and a resigning shrug.