BITCH-GIRI

What would have been the reason because of which Adam and Eve had their first fight? I see none. This planet was too perfect at that time for them to afford a fight. There was enough land, sufficient water, fresh air and a great deal of love being shared between them. But most important of all, there were no other souls wandering around. No other guys, no other girls. So they both had to keep themselves content with whoever they were sent with. Neither could Adam have another crush nor could Eve. Both were doomed to be loyal. This was not the only scourge of being ‘two-lone’. They had to act in a way that was nice to each other’s senses even if they wanted to do something else. They had to look in a manner that was pleasant to each other’s eyes even if they wanted some different get up. And they had to talk in a way that was sweet to each other’s ears even if they wanted to bitch about each other. The most gratifying pastime of humankind was just not discovered.

World must have been getting too boring to live in. So God blessed Adam and Eve with children, grand children, great grand children, great great grand children.... and us. And with increasing numbers we found strength – strength to stand against and overcome nature, strength to oppose and fight and strength to survive and move on. But you see no one is omnipotent (unless God does not have a female counterpart!). At one time or the other, before one person or the other, one has to bow down. And it need not be just power or wisdom before which you surrender. Sometimes even sheer stupidity and tantrums can force you to put your weapons down and render you helpless.

Helplessness – the very oxygen and water of bitching. The more helpless you are in a situation or before a person, the more likely you are seduced to this temptation. That would also explain why the bosses are the breed that has the dubious record of being most often and most severely bitched about. And trailing them with not-so-huge margins are in-laws and neighbours especially richer ones. Though these are the breeds who have been claiming the top spots since ages, any human being – superior or stronger or richer or more successful than the other – has more often than not a group of quiet-before-thy-face-loud-behind-thy-back fellow beings around him/her.

But let me make my stand clear. I am not vilifying bitching. On the contrary, this note of mine is intended to do away with the misconceptions that readers might have about bitching. First and the foremost of them is the view that bitching is predominantly a feminine trait. It would be sinful (though not imprudent) if I say that. What is prejudicedly considered to be the forte of women, has throughout the history of time been catching fancies of men and women alike. The only thing masculine or feminine about bitching is when it is done. Men do it in spare time, women find spare time for it. But at the end of the day both end up with the similar amount.

Second and where my ideas might just be a little too radical for some of you is the faulty notion that bitching is bad. No..... Bitching is just another source of recreation – perhaps the best of all. Think of the time when mankind didn’t have any television to watch, when the world was too big to travel and too dangerous to roam around far, when the spirits also used to fade away with the light of the day and when the nations were under autocratic rule and consequently freedom of speech was just a tad higher than that seen in the Wikileaks case. Bitching since then has been serving mankind like an honest servant. It is all pervasive in that anyone can bitch – rich & poor, wise & fools, old & young – everyone. It is evergreen in that one can bitch anywhere and anytime – you need not have special permission, special place or special timings to bitch. And trust me, it is so relaxing and so rejuvenating that it should long have been used as a therapy to treat disgruntled souls. In fact the only other things as indulging as bitching are wine, marijuana or cocaine – though unlike bitching they each have side effects.

Now the third and the last misconception about bitching is that there is a limit to bitching. Sorry fellas if you think that way. It has no end to it. It never lacks subjects – from classmates to colleagues to neighbours to bosses to life.... you have so many options. Bitch and bitch about anything and to any extent. Excess of bitching is not injurious to health. And if you don’t believe me try shying away from it for a week without feeling constipated. And if you succeed, I will salute you.

(The author is particularly thankful to a Mumbaikar friend of his for giving him the title for this post. Also views expressed here are completely his though inspiration has been derived from countless number of souls around him.)

THE BEST

Oh that’s the best for me I know

Perhaps not the best for all though

It sure has got its share of dirt

Still I will remain in mirth

As impure as imperfect it could be

As much as it can infect me

It has to be the one I always yearned

With all the toil I finally earned

Now that I have it stand by my side

I care the least for all that deride

I never... never was understood

Oft called ignorant, sometimes rude

Yet they never can decide my fate

Cannot write on my life’s slate

Oh Heart! Now let all the qualms go

Coz that’s the best for me you know

GROWING UP

When a humour didn’t stop on a smile

And could carry something overly more

When having journeyed an extra mile

Could give a rise to glee in galore

For a benign pinch on the cheeks

When eyes needed no fear to cry

When futile endeavours made in streaks

Could each time reveal a visible sigh

Now

We all have grown to understand

That the worldly affairs are a little strange

And we learn to conceal with falling sand

Rightly they say ‘Times do change’

THE LAST CLASS

Well fellas I wrote this poem in the shortest time that I ever took in writing something of this length... I dunno whether it was my creativity that was at its best at this time or something else that inspired me so much (though I fear the possibility of the later was greater).... whatever gentlemen... I m not in a very good shape of mind post writing this....

THE LAST CLASS

The Last class over, I feel the tinge

The Last class over, and so is the binge

The last class over and everyone’s gone

The last class over and I feel alone...

The last class over and so are the happenings

The last class over, now I miss all these things

I miss the cases that I never read

And I miss the answers instantly made

I miss the presentations I first time saw

When I was on the dais with the open jaw

I miss speaking in the most gaseous forms

And fearing the questions from all the book worms

I miss those claps which meant to thank me

For ending the torture and let others free

I miss so much sitting in the last row

That used to go sold in the first bid though

I miss the planning that used to be done

For the evening party and the alcoholic fun

I miss sleeping sans sheets, pillows, bed

With the pyramid of bags in front of my head

I miss the movies on the corner seat

Clicking the pictures and priding the feat

I miss the white board with drawings filled

And writing before classes ‘The class cancelled’

I miss the launchers and all the paper balls

That kept on flying inside the four walls

I miss the proxies and their being caught

The sniggers, the empathies that absentees got

I miss that single name that single scapegoat

That used to bear brunt and always to dote!

I miss the fun, the love, the ridicule I got

All that I could mention and all that I could not

Now I curse the times when I bunked Alas!!

Why did this occur to me in the very last class?!

The last class over and I go insane,

Coz I very well know, it won’t come again...

A LESS KNOWN PURSUIT

I dared to move up feel the sky

I dared to caress wind and fly

I dared to leap and catch some run

I dared to laugh and have some fun

I dared to run down butter flies

And run up flowers before one dries

I dared to talk to birds and sing

And add to my life a bit of zing

I dared to go some place unseen

The paths to which aren’t umpteen

I dared to say some things unheard

And ask questions left unanswered

I dared to hug that fille unmet

With gentle words and eyes wet

I dared to challenge the mighty lords

Raise some noise, cross some swords

I dared to dig and walk my ways

Sleep my nights, start my days

And all my fears I put to scream

I dared to wake up, I dared to dream

But all I thought was met with reproof

And all I did was told to be goof

Yet I dared to differ from astute

And began following a less known pursuit.