Random as it gets

chicken is the egg white of meat.. honest unprejudiced love turns the recipients of it's faith into art, and that is all there is to art. the reason why Sep 11 stays more valid than every other incident is because of how they felt and reacted to it and in some ways (SOME) we fail to feel and react atleast not until it's too late. my thoughts are intelligent somehow my words arent, who the fuck is directing traffic up there?!! Porn is not a product of perversion but the product of the lack of the real experience.. and if we think that porn is wrong.. the discussion shouldn't end just there.... but why do we even need porn... porn perversion rape sodomy every single strain of wild sexuality we find is just not an expression of sexually deviant imagination but the effect of sexual restrain... our embarrassment in our naturally existent god given biological need has taken wild proportions... when the subject of the need has nothing to feed on, the process which is basic in our nature decides to find other venues for it's fulfillment, for it cannot but exist. the need to reproduce is basic, emotion came next... morality much later.. yet morality ignores the idea of the basic... let us encourage our children to understand sex, let us encourage them to get comfortable with the right way.. educate them and not separate them for the need that lives in all of us... let us free our women and our men from the chains of her chastity, change that and the second when the the basic continuum of our biological needs are met at a primary level like gas and heat and shelter .. the being becomes a much more effective organism... no longer tied to his emotion to find him the solution for the need that should never have become his prerogative... and most of all understand that the act's perversion lies in our mind because when we we have dissent to sex we have dissent to god.. because be you a Christian or an atheist the one thing that we can agree on is that it/him/her/they/we/us fucking created us and the most ungodly thing to do would be to rob the world of another soul to exist/(or to say "stop fucking").... Thums up is spelled wrong ... and there is a thumb on it!

Narration for Travel show on Kochi (rough edit)

Kochi a major port city by the Arabian Sea on the southern part of India’s west coast. an important spice trading centre on the west coast of India from the 14th century. Occupied by the Portuguese Empire in 1503, Kochi was the first of the European colonies in colonial India. It remained the main seat of Portuguese India until 1530, when Goa was chosen instead. The city was later occupied by the Dutch and the British, with the Kingdom of Cochin becoming a princely state. A city whose rich history comes from it's ancient interactions with The Arabs, British, Chinese, Dutch, and Portuguese. A city so loved by those who visited and occupied it they all tried desperately to make it their own by naming it after the lands they travelled from.The English claimed Cochin as ‘Mini England’, the Dutch called it ‘Homely Holland’ and the Portuguese referred to the port as ‘Little Lisbon’. But the name that stuck eventually probably describes best how in love with this city the world was - “Queen of the Arabian Sea.” Kochi was the centre of Indian spice trade for many centuries, and was known to the Yavanas (Greeks and Romans) as well as Jews, Syrians, Arabs, and Chinese since ancient times. A city so rich in culture and cuisine that it amazed Italian traveller Niccolò Da Conti, who lured by the tales of this fabulous city arrived at it's shores in 1440. He later famously wrote in his travelogue “If China is where you make your money, then Cochin is surely the place to spend it.” I'm here to meet my friend Sanju, an avid traveller, artist, long time Kochi resident and fellow pyjama enthusiast. He's going to be my guide to all things Kochi. Besides being a man of similar taste, he's also a foodie (as you can tell) and from the looks of it someone who knows half the people in Kochi. He's let me know that we'll be heading to Fort Kochi by ferry. The ferry system connects the islands of Kochi together from Ernakulam to Mattancherry, Fort Kochi, Vypeen and Willingdon Island.An old surviving system which turns out to be cheaper and in many cases faster, than buses. As I walked through the narrow streets of Fort Kochi, littered by the architecture of the many from the foreign lands who came and decided to plant themselves here, my awe wasn't really for the style of architecture (impressive as they were) or the tales of Kochi's riches that Sanju constantly poured into my ears or even that delicious piece of mango cheesecake I had at the Old courtyard. No, my awe was reserved for that great character of the Indian spirit. The one that never felt a need to obliterate the memories of those who unfairly ruled them and tried to consume their land and it's riches but rather moved on almost seamlessly after the obnoxious guests had left to bigger and better things. In Kochi time stands still, these structures of ancient times merge and fold into the less poetic but more practical architecture of today. You see backpacking tourists gawk and stare and shop whilst the locals move on about their day in that same old ancient hectic pace and somehow you can't throw away that feeling of dejavu, that this is a cycle that's been on repeat and maybe just maybe we're the only ones who've truly understood that. Being someone who has worked in high end restaurants one thing I've realized is that whilst the food prepared by well paid professional cooks with their choice of the finest ingredients has it's own beauty and finesse, what truly romances my tastes buds are the soulful preparations of the many huddled food joints that lack any pomp or grandeur but are the haunts of the common man out for a good meal. Street food has a soul quotient that no other variant of it can somehow hold onto. It's neither served lavishly or adorned with garnishes that evokes lusty licks from your tongue but almost always delicious and almost always an experience that's unique and to be remembered. So when Sanju took me to the food place 'Thakkaram' he'd been raving on about my suspicions, were alive and kicking. The place from the outside looked like a feeble attempt at fancy and their motto 'tales of old tastes retold' or some ungodly similar quote did not win my confidence and I felt an inherent need to kick Sanju in the shins. On entering however I felt my doubts slowly vanish. A little due to the warm welcome given to me by the staff, a little due to the wonderful illustrations that adorned the wall but a lot owing to one of the most articulate menus I've ever read. Yes 'read', it wasn't the design or the uniqueness of it's look but just the beauty of it's prose. Although reading it required a serious reprisal of my Malayalam vocabulary, it was totally worth the effort. Afterall it isn't everyday you hear names of dishes like aatinkal kanalil chuttathu, kozhi massman, kozhi nirachathu and chicken pachamolakarachathu. Sanju introduced to me to Niyas, the head waiter a kind and gentle soul who patiently explained to me the varied menu which is primarily composed of recipes off the spice shelves of Northern Kerala, a primarily Muslim side of this multi ethnic state and from the looks of it composed of people who have an age old connection to their food. Niyas explained to me that these were old vanishing recipes dug out and restored by their chef's and from what I hear from Sanju the people of Kochi have taken to it like Kottayam achayans to brandy.(better one) At first came the kozhi pachamulakarachathu served with porotta, a heady, spicy blend of chicken cooked in a green chilliy paste and masala. It surprisingly did not burn a whole in my tongue but wafted it with that tingling in your mouth that only chilli's can give you. Then came the aatinkal kanalil chuttathu served with biriyani rice, a wholesome mutton leg rubbed down with masala and cooked on coal to perfection. Juicy, smokey meat that melted into the moist biriyani rice cooked in a heady blend of masala and ghee. Then when I was starting to wonder how this could get any better, Niyas turned up with an abominable sized aatinthala served with pathiri, a huge mutton head cooked in a savoury pepper filled curry which Niyas says is a house favorite preferred my customers after a long evening of drinking. As I prodded and muscled my way throughthis rather stubborn goats head filled with meaty deliciousness, I couldn't help but think these guys have nailed it. For a state that serves some of the best food I've ever eaten a surprise like this is what I'd never imagined. Dishes that had somehow evaded me in my many years spent here cooked with love and a sense of loyalty I hadn't seen in a long time. Kochi now had my serious attention. Now after what seemed hours of sweet sweet toiling at this smorgasbord fit for obese kings and begging Niyas not to bring me the grand dessert (a watermelon stuffed to it's brim with icecream), sanju told me that we still weren't done at thakkaram and ignoring my pleas for a wheelchair, took me outside the restaurant and showed me the refurbished bus which they'd turned into a dining area. Where Niyas who seems to have had a call from my mother proceeded to send over tea and pudding. Sitting there, sipping my chai as it rained in this contraption which I otherwise might've called a little tacky, I had only a sense of gratefulness. The beauty of my state that never fails to show even in the midst of one of it's most bustling city. I revised my visit to the city and played out all the places and people I'd met in these few days. A city where a smile was greeted with a smile, a place where the good of the past and the promise of the future both reside amicably.

maiden mayday

Madness maddened by the fickleness of a lovers sadness
The result concise the words short the expression demure
Who that suffers more is there such a question
Who’s the stranger who can tell
Maybe a bad actor is just a honest man
Maybe a good liar is just the bigger man

His Hy-pathetic Reality

hark the herald the pirate sings
lest his might might lose his strength
see heroes are made of reasonless faith
them immature sides of his ungodly whole
know now this now you're special only to his whimsy
time is his lie being is his spy
you're freedom is his plane
his plane to judge his own existence
think thus confused king
sends out million minions
go pain for me
I'm small too alas not in comparison to u
but in comparison to all else
smallness fights grandeur in the calling of entirety
the cycle but never stops nor for u not for ur god
see gods are bigger but none the less weaker
ur the millionth experiment in his infinite confusion
the masks he gives u are his own lended some borrowed
the beauty of the wheel is that it never meets its own end
and that's the only clever thing he last did
morrison u fuck bob you stuck
he knew de-reason u knew configuration
achoo bless u cough cough coughin through
Adams apple was what eve bit into
u fool
u fool u fool
the depth of her bottoms the smile on her lowly lips is what beckons u
and nothing else will get through
and nothing else can make you

Morning Gaga

you wake up in a new town wondering why the smoldering breath of the last town seems incomprehensible in the burning eye of the new one
. you wake up to the smell of fresh soothing coffee to the angst of a fresh lit cigarette
you wake up to the idea that love might still survive our terrible lies.
you wake up to promise surging through the veins of your soul
you wake up with a smile that gently caresses the soft insides of your own heart without reason.
you wake up to sweet sweet music as it churns itself vigorously through the bliss of being.
you wake up through the eyes of the better man in you.
you wake up to this worlds secret "as animals we must love."
you wake up to the universe the morning the gods who made u matter.
you wake up father son child man saint prophet.
love is the shadow of enlightenment and today i'll stare at the sun

for all her gusaing

i met wept for her today
saw her smilin whilin her time
her fair skin glows under neon lights
her black so covered in her blinding whites
lips red pink nay its the idea that chases my mind
do you remember them hasty kisses prolonged
in sun shines and moonlights profound
she draped herself in sweet white cotton
the first night i remember
held me sway by her demanding grace
stepped up said we'll kiss for bliss tonight
not knowing our being we let ousreslves be
kiss amiss amidst the wants that ne'er spake
bless u child and the dreams i had
for me for ye for the bottoms of ur eyes
for the depths of ur charades I'll seek a reason
for the length of your being I'll forsake my time
you are mine as u were once
and you will be someday when ?
this throat stays parched for your wet lips
these arms still aches for your hip hips
embraced we did in yesterdays yawn
embrace we did in our stories forlorn
wait await for her again
what we ever need will bring us pain
what she will lose still wont make your gains
and that's the sad story at the end of the day

The Karma Crack

foreseeable futures for the unforeseen mind
to foreseeable judgements on foreseen fears
for what is the eyes but a broken window
a one sided story to this 7 sided existence
death loves too only without choice
is redemption blind then or does it not care
fingers see not their arm
yet they worship arm god bone god man god
on and on so on so forth
so then isn't faith blindness too
look lest you miss sight
hear lest you forget sound
but worship the mind that knows without knowing
as nothing violates everything in the chambers of its night
becoming shakes itself away from what became
the void knows the void grows
one pit dug fills another with its garbage excess
whoop whoop whoop goes on Buddha song
whoop whoop whoop the endless story goes on
you're a trickle off a drop counting the numberless
you're the little of the least wanting more
east end lights will always hunger for northern nights
but u that have no purpose are god
for purpose binds your feet to narrow roads
your nothingness is your salvation
lose the eye keep the mind
ask the why run the mile
shatter scatter be
burn burn burn in glee
our lover hides around the corner
and soon she'll set us free