tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81852145828176448292024-03-13T09:30:45.146+05:30Sea of FacesRijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-9492681905921253102013-02-11T14:21:00.004+05:302013-02-11T14:52:41.926+05:30So I Got Kicked out of the Ashram<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Source: http://www.kalari.in/guru.htm</div>
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I walked in on Saturday.<br />
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The place was a small establishment that consisted of a few
buildings dedicated solely for Kalaripattayu (Martial Arts – one to be precise)
and Kalarichikitsa (Ayurveda, perhaps three – but not many more than that) and
many more as an assortment of temples, accommodation for priests, auxillary
buildings for the purposes of worshipping the almighty all knowing all
pervading intangible metaphorical entity known as God. There were a lot of
gardens as well – some decorative, some vegetative. I am including the
architecture in such detail so you get an idea of the degree by which
worshipping presided over the other functional aspects of the place.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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My only permanent job was to wash the landing of the temple
everyday at 5 in the morning, which I did, everyday that I was there, although
I did try to bunk it the day I got kicked out. Re: tried.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Other than that, I partook in some manual labour: moving
cement bricks and sacks around, clearing the coconut groves of fallen leaves,
gardening, and other odd jobs, quite efficiently if I may add.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Now that we have established this, let’s get spiritual.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Sat Guru Hanumananda and I had had discussions on our
first meeting with each other. We spoke of what each of us perceives as god,
came to a certain degree of agreement and disagreed on certain aspects. I was
under the impression that it was concluded that both of us have a similar
understanding but approach the processes from different angles. He liked to be
known as God fearing for ‘it is an energy that is beyond our control’ and I did
not care much about the fear aspect of it stating that knowledge is a method of
understanding that energy so you would be able to control it. Either way.
Things were pretty smooth.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There was an incident when I went into the Ashram library
where there was this beautiful chair, draped in satin and it was overwhelmingly
cushioned. It also had a little padded stool to place your feet on. The library
was just a small room fit for one person to read in. I was the only person
there. So I took out a book and sat on that chair to read. I couldn’t even get
through the introduction in comfort when a deluded American woman (the
ornamental permanent saffron clad sanyasin who found her peace - you know the
story) walked in and got the shock of her life. “Oo. Oh. Oh. Oh. That is the
Gooo-rooo’s chair. It is disrespectful to sit on the goo-rooo’s chair. I looked
around the room and told her that the goo-rooo doesn’t seem to be using it and
it is the most comfortable piece of furniture in the room. Anyway, in not much
time I did abide and had a pointless discussion about consciousness with that
dead woman. This little bit of information is important because when the gooo-rooo
spoke to my mother about my expulsion, he cited this incident as an act of
blatant disregard for everything.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then on Wednesday, I was stopped from going to the village
by one of the people at the ashram who wished for me not to wear boxers but clad
myself in a dhoti or trousers as ‘everyone knows you’re from the ashram’. I
told him I am more comfortable in these. It is too hot to wear trousers and
dhotis don’t have pockets. He admitted that he too would like to wear boxers
but it is ‘the rule’. I told him that was a very foolish thing to say and he
should know why it is foolish. Regardless, I changed into a dhoti and left.
After I returned, I had lunch and left my cell phone and wallet in the dining
hall. I went to the dorm and slept. When I woke up, I found out that a certain
Mr. Swami Sat Guru Hanumananda had possession of my belongings.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I had chai and went to meet him.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The swami meets me and tells me that I am irresponsible. I
agreed. He tells me that this is an ashram and not a resort and you will do
what you are told out here. I agreed. He told me to present myself wearing
trousers and t-shirts everyday at 9 am. I agreed. He mentioned to one of his
minions that Kalari classes will be compulsory at 6am in the morning everyday
henceforth. He agreed. He told me that my father was a wise man to send me here
and to stay under such basic circumstances (although the whole affair was my
idea), I agreed. He then continued to talk about the importance of institutions
and cited the nation as an example. He asked – do you love your country?<o:p></o:p></div>
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This is when things began to get really interesting. I shall
write it down as a script. <o:p></o:p></div>
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R: For a person who you know to be extremely awesome. <o:p></o:p></div>
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S: For a person who is dead. <o:p></o:p></div>
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R: I don’t adhere to the concepts of nations.<o:p></o:p></div>
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S: So you don’t think it is important?<o:p></o:p></div>
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R: No.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
S: Do you care about your mother?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
R: I don’t see how it is relevant here.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
S: Your parents. Do you care about your parents?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
R: To the degree with which I interact with them. It makes
me responsible for how I am to them and a consequence of that is me being
caring with what I met out towards them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
S: Do you care for other people’s parents? For example, my
parents.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
R: I would if I interacted with them, my care would be in
proportion to how much I interact with them. If they were in a position where
my help would be beneficial then I would deliver it to them to the fullest of
my capacity.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
S: Hmm. Interesting. If you mother was getting abused, what
would you do?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
R: I would try and prevent the abuse from unfolding.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
S: Exactly. So you need law and order to prevent such things
from happening.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
R: No. I would rather elucidate people into seeing the
irrelevance of abusing another person thus preventing this entire eventuality
from occurring. You can’t just punish a human being like an animal and expect
him to learn. I can understand that back in the day there would be various
tribes, clans, kingdoms, without any communications and with diminished
understanding but we do have a network now and institutions of the past need to
give way in order to bring forth such concepts into realization.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
S: I deal with communications. I know all about
communications. So you think you can change the world?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
R: I am changing it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
S: How long do you think it will take you to do this?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
R: If I was given control over all the existing media, I
could do it within a week. That much time is generous.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
S: You know. I have seen many people in my life. In jail,
outside jail, I have trained commandos, I have fought in the army and killed
people. I have seen people who have come from both the gutters and the richest
of places. I have seen people who could commit murder without hesitation but I
have never come across someone like you. Everything about you is ‘I’, ‘Me’, it
is all very selfish. You don’t believe in God. You don’t come to the temple.
You never listen to anyone. That is the problem with you. You can’t listen to
anyone. You always have an answer and so you will never listen. You are a fully
negative person. You don’t know how to respect elders. You don’t know how to
respect God. You know, I can raise my voice and make you unconscious. I can hit
you and you will listen to me like a dog. Today is a very auspicious day
for us you know. There was a big puja in the temple. Even the foreigner, who knows
nothing about Hinduism, came and gave his respect. You were not there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
R: I was not told by anyone that I needed to be there or
that it was a very auspicious occasion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
S: You needn’t be told. You should know. You saw all those
people coming in. But you don’t respect any of it, just like you don’t respect
your elders. You don’t know how to. You were not raised well. Maybe you got too
much love from your mother and too much hatred from your father, I don’t know.
You were not raised properly. And you come here to learn Kalari from me and you
make it seem like it is you who has come here to teach something.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
R: So age is the only barometer for respect? Why don’t we
all find out who is the oldest person on the planet and start worshipping him?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
S: (Stunned look)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
R: Okay. You are right. I don’t listen to anyone. I am the
most negative person in the world. Now would you please tell me what a positive
person is?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
S: I don’t want to talk to you. I will be turning negative.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
R: But I thought communication was your forte. You said so
yourself, less than five minutes ago. And how can I have an influence over you,
you are a master. So do help me learn.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
S: You cannot. You are not fit for anything. You are not fit
for Kalaripayat. Pack your bags and go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
R: You are a Sat Guru. You are a person of a much higher
intelligence than me. Yet you don’t wish to communicate to me. This is just an
example of you evading your dharma, your duty.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
S: Come here.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Asks me to stand in front of him.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Slaps me.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Get out of here. I don’t want to see your face again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
R: Okay. You told me that I came here to teach you
something. That is true. So, what have you learnt?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
S: (Shakes, tries to gather himself for another slap.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
R: One word. Power.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I got kicked out of the Ashram.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I must admit, I make myself out to be a real hero here, and
that second slap probably didn't find its place on my cheek because he probably
felt quite bad. Either way - it's entertaining. No?<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--V977jBYlFQ/URi3Y82FATI/AAAAAAAABxo/KgldVvRPjoc/s1600/big_38.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--V977jBYlFQ/URi3Y82FATI/AAAAAAAABxo/KgldVvRPjoc/s320/big_38.gif" width="266" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
"I can't do it anymore Lord, help me!"</div>
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-51698765069455989062013-02-09T17:37:00.001+05:302013-02-11T14:05:02.392+05:30Stood Up To Comedy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hello Ladies & Competitors,</div>
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The following was what I had prepared for a brilliant stand-up comedy gig that I never actually ended up delivering. I walked onto the stage, looked at the people looking at me and realised that I would never get a chuckle out of the crowd that was present. As I let that thought seep in someone started bitching about me and I walked off.</div>
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I didn't know if I was more embarrased with myself or with the misconception that I could ever get my jokes into the comatose congregation of conglomerated neurons that defined my audience.</div>
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They wanted to do more dick jokes and amuse themselves with the variety of ways by which the sluttiness of Bandra girls could be expressed. Bandra girls were part of that audience too. I think I just did a better job than any of those wankers.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Yes, this was at Bombay, over a year ago.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Anyway, here you go. It sounds dangerously close to George Carlin, but I guess the things that are fucked up about this planet are, well, globally relavant.</div>
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I trust you will enjoy this.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Oh, and under the light of the above, you'll really appreciate the gravity of my opening sentence.</div>
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_____________________________</div>
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<br /></div>
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You know, I used to be angry with a lot of things, I used to get pissed off at a lot of people and I thought humor worked on that. Then I realized that the world works in Physics.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The idiocy of someone's actions are cancelled out by the idiocy of those upon whom they are inflicted.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Let me illustrate from the very bottom of human consciousness: organized religion.</div>
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<br /></div>
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There is this Swami, Swami Something, who loafs around the same regions as myself. The difference between us is that he makes more than a Crore every month - tax free and exclusive of benefits. I make jokes about him.</div>
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<br /></div>
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How does this happen?</div>
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<br /></div>
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The man has an idea of a ritual that he conjured.</div>
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He organizes some massive puja where people have to get 1 crore little shiv-lings (read: miniature penises of the god of love) made out of dough – otherwise it just ain’t auspicious. Now this dough is not just wheat bro, this guy asks them to put a coin at the bottom so as to give it an even shape.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The poor man thinks this is a bargain.</div>
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<br /></div>
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They are just selling shit man, the whole load of them.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I have to ride along the parlance of our times so - "ANY INVESTMENT BANKERS HERE TONIGHT?" Don't worry chaps, I wont bite you. I sympathize. You are all victims. Victims of the demon of our times - marketing. I saw this movie recently - called the inside job - which kind of explains why it is so well garlanded in awards.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The movie allegedly reveals the secrets behind the slump at Wall Street, and that made everyone shit bricks.</div>
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<br /></div>
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So they mentioned this credit rating agency called standard and poor's.</div>
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When I heard that I was like: How irrelevant, I'm the fuckin' elite.</div>
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So let me explain these kinetics from the third perspective:</div>
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There are these scales, A,B and C.</div>
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Imagine two monkeys talking to each other.</div>
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"Hey bro, this one is AA, very nice, fantastic returns all that. But this one, phew. AA and ‘Fuckin’ A’. Triple A bro!. That extra is, it is just *sniff*. Anyway, the choice is yours, what do you say?"<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/8464684490/" title="49 Another Maverick in the Wall by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img alt="49 Another Maverick in the Wall" height="223" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8525/8464684490_96beac61fa.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<br />
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<br /></div>
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A whole load of shit if being shoved around.</div>
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That's the game.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The middle man thinks he is being fucked.</div>
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<br /></div>
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But you know what the main motherfuck up is: Education.</div>
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I met this 11th standard kid in Madhya Pradesh - an excelling science student as per his grades. I thought I'll explain how computers work work to him.</div>
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So I started.</div>
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He stared.</div>
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Then I asked him a couple of questions.</div>
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"Do you know what circuits are?"</div>
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He shrugged.</div>
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"Okay. You know how electricity works."</div>
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He said he had not done that chapter.</div>
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Physics.</div>
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Class 11.</div>
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No light.</div>
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So I asked him: "What do you do during your physics class?"</div>
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He replied "Question and Answers."</div>
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<br /></div>
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Atop the pyramid, when you stop thinking, someone else takes over for you.</div>
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Behold - the elite.</div>
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Everyone is selling shit.</div>
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God is willingly selling paradise, the devil is faithfully buying it.</div>
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A whole lot of shit is being sold.</div>
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<br /></div>
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But sadly, I can't sell this to you, because someone else has already convinced you not to buy it.</div>
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Shit.</div>
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_____________________________</div>
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<br /></div>
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~FINI~</div>
</div>
Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-36557446909467663472012-07-27T08:32:00.002+05:302013-02-10T15:20:44.248+05:30Half-Way Home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/7654041992/" title="Half-Way Home by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img alt="Half-Way Home" height="640" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8157/7654041992_e4e6af4def_z.jpg" width="456" /></a><br />
<br />
Mixed-Media and my first exploration of Oil Paints.<br />
Vibrant colours, fantastic for layering, easy and accurate in application, but demand a bitch load of care.</div>
Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-77099684322100520882012-03-16T12:28:00.004+05:302012-04-09T13:52:52.799+05:30Recovered.It's not Half-Bad<br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/6840518072/" title="Go Mad by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7179/6840518072_35e0873a2a_z.jpg" width="453" height="640" alt="Go Mad" /></a><div><br />Al!<br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/6840521568/" title="Curling Hair and Radiance! by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7178/6840521568_91a938da24_z.jpg" width="453" height="640" alt="Curling Hair and Radiance!" /></a></div>Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-70866318626777424002012-03-16T12:18:00.001+05:302012-03-16T12:19:27.608+05:30Neutral Old Times<span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/sets/72157623165022168/with/4256380524/"><img src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2695/4256380524_d01602bee4.jpg" width="500" height="335" alt="Every bit of beer" /></a></span><div><br /></div><div>In loving memory of the second love of my life: the Canon A1. Click to get redirected.</div>Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-64272990187470310772012-03-16T12:15:00.001+05:302012-03-16T12:17:29.907+05:30Canon 5D Mark II - Just Melt!<span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/sets/72157628718334441/"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7033/6635993167_b1cf264c3d.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="Entrance to Parvati (the Valley! - check out where the cloud is)." /></a></span><div><br /></div><div>Click on the photo to be redirected to the Flickr set.</div><div>Enjoy.</div>Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-69968696901622346852011-09-02T18:29:00.000+05:302012-03-16T16:10:00.163+05:30The Walled Mindmaps<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The following are the images of the essential elements of paintings done on walls. They have been arrange in order to retain their essence in the digital format. Please click on the images to see what they actually look like. The real fun though lies in being inside the rooms themselves and out of your minds. </div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/6108484836/in/photostream"><img alt="Mir Age Essence" height="315" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7191/6840775254_c4d6dc5220.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
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Mir Age | <i>Jabalpur, India</i></div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/6004897774/in/photostream"><img alt="HiSenseOveReProduction Essence" height="500" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7057/6840773812_b120e28d71.jpg" width="497" /></a></div>
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HiSenseOveReProduction | <i>Melbourne, Australia</i></div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/6002122579/in/photostream"><img alt="Colourfool Language Essence" height="357" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7201/6986894433_01d5738357.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
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Colourfool Language | <i>Nagpur, India</i></div>
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</div>Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-83134772577303346792011-08-07T16:50:00.004+05:302012-03-16T12:00:07.751+05:30Exakta Varex II A<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/6014266907/" title="<untitled> by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6143/6014266907_2c30923f4c.jpg" width="500" height="338" alt="<untitled>" /></a><br /><br />The photograph is taken by a beautiful emblem of mechanical precision - for more from the machine please visit it's dedicated <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/sets/72157627251142517/">Flickr</a> set.Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-38253863433072949882011-07-25T08:54:00.005+05:302012-05-04T16:31:09.786+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5972961028/" style="font-size: 100%;" title="Habilis - Devil and the Deep Sea by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img alt="Habilis - Devil and the Deep Sea" height="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6128/5972961028_17cedbf08b.jpg" width="451" /></a></div>
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Habilis: The Ape who looked into his mind and saw the anagram of a spine.<br />
A cover I made for the single by an electronic musician/homie.</div>
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<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F20569061&show_artwork=true" style="font-size: 100%;" width="100%"></iframe></div>
</div>Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-44534693703426084032011-07-25T00:11:00.000+05:302013-02-10T14:17:55.393+05:30Hero<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5970668779/" title="Hero by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img alt="Hero" height="359" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6146/5970668779_4b62b0ec1f.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">...and they say that a hero will save us.<br />Once the baybees let go of him.</span></div>
</div>
Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-34311418361680609542011-06-07T18:10:00.000+05:302013-01-30T22:36:42.637+05:30D.range Or How I learnt to stop worrying about Love or the Bomb.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Being a quantum mechanic, I find myself possessing a quarky sense of humour.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
You square the product of pi and a radius to determine a circle.</div>
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There is a lot of rounding off around these corners.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
What happened to the physicist's mind prior to diving deep?</div>
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It walked the planck.</div>
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<br /></div>
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What's the slang for 'shrink'?</div>
<div>
Bitch doktor</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Why did the schizophrenic cross the road?</div>
<div>
To meet his friend.</div>
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Why did the schizophrenic cross the road?</div>
<div>
His friend wasn't there.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
What did the schizophrenic tell the psychiatrist?</div>
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"We need help."</div>
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What was the psychiatrist's reply?</div>
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"Yes we do."</div>
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<br /></div>
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What's a bad idea?</div>
<div>
A philosopher stoned.</div>
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<br /></div>
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What's the spell used by the linguistic mystic to raise the dead?</div>
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'Manifesto'</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
What do dead Tibetans do?</div>
<div>
Write a book.</div>
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What do alive Tibetans do?</div>
<div>
Read the book.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Why do smokers always flock around Buddha?</div>
<div>
He <cough> has the light, man.</cough></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Why did Buddha cross the road?</div>
<div>
He lost his mind.</div>
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Why did Ananda cross the road?</div>
<div>
To bring Buddha back.</div>
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Why did Ananda fail to do so?</div>
<div>
He saw the light. Two of them infact.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Why do Hindu's believe in re-incarnation?</div>
<div>
Well, to begin with, they aren't grounded.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
What's common between Romans and academics?</div>
<div>
They both like to cross examine ideas.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What's the proof of heaven?</div>
<div>
Burkhas on Earth.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Why should you make fun of religion?</div>
<div>
For history has taught us that if you take it too seriously it makes you cross.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Who in their right minds is a communist?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Who shot the Sheriff?</div>
<div>
The Deputy.</div>
<div>
Who shot the Deputy?</div>
<div>
Eric Clapton.</div>
<div>
Who is a well-tuned twisted genius?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Why did Lao Tzu sit on a bull?</div>
<div>
If Bull sit on him, make no sense. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What's a far fetched idea?</div>
<div>
Extra-terrestrials.</div>
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What's a heavy assumption?</div>
<div>
Humanity.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"An Unidentified Flying Object was reportedly seen hovering near a waffle restaurant in southern Texas that is frequented by astronauts, aeronautical engineers and other arial craft experts" reports David Wilcock.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What do you do after you get an arts degree?</div>
<div>
Hop over to the other side of the money laundering business.</div>
</div>
Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-15483090431638402902011-04-08T14:20:00.002+05:302012-11-20T12:08:20.945+05:30Embryonic Dream<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5726194404/" title="Embryonic Dream by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img alt="Embryonic Dream" height="490" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3654/5726194404_7a849a60a5.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-50715499269044795662011-04-08T13:52:00.002+05:302012-03-16T11:53:42.479+05:30Phase/State Transition<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5600091446/" title="Phase State by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5022/5600091446_0c7988be96.jpg" width="500" height="466" alt="Phase State"></a>Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-18955074046870197162011-04-08T13:50:00.000+05:302012-03-16T11:53:42.479+05:30Fried Egg<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5599498411/" title="Fried Egg by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5308/5599498411_58ac7f6955.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Fried Egg"></a>Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-44139793048893217272011-04-08T13:42:00.001+05:302012-03-16T11:53:42.481+05:30March on Fascism<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5600067628/" title="Play Me by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5270/5600067628_5cdce15471_z.jpg" alt="Play Me" height="640" width="509" /></a><br /><br />You can't kill and idea but you can conquer it.Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-88348568011737993222011-02-03T15:11:00.009+05:302012-03-18T13:48:42.801+05:30Life 2.0: The Scripted Series<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/4969248881/" title="the Grand Conjuror by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr" style="font-weight: normal; "><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4133/4969248881_d844c0ea78.jpg" width="500" height="371" alt="the Grand Conjuror" /></a><br /><br /><div style="font-weight: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-weight: normal; ">Close Encounters of the Theocratic Kind</div><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5412998944/" title="Close Encounters of the Theocratic Kind by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr" style="font-weight: normal; "><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4118/5412998944_e1ce69d915.jpg" width="500" height="348" alt="Close Encounters of the Theocratic Kind" /></a><br />Him<br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/4969904634/" title="Man God by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr" style="font-weight: normal; "><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4089/4969904634_614788df98_z.jpg" alt="Man God" height="640" width="228" /></a><br /><b><br /></b><br />Echo<br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5374681501/" title="Echo by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr" style="font-weight: normal; "><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5084/5374681501_8aff514d81.jpg" width="500" height="239" alt="Echo" /></a><br /><br /><div style="font-weight: normal; "><br /></div><br />The Scripture<br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/4969246853/" title="the Script by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr" style="font-weight: normal; "><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4110/4969246853_e2d540e295.jpg" width="500" height="379" alt="the Script" /></a><br /><br />Divine Recession<br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5599614321/" title="Receding Halo by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr" style="font-weight: normal; "><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5229/5599614321_4f06473997.jpg" width="500" height="244" alt="Receding Halo" /></a><br /><br />Hip-hopper<br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5599614311/" title="Hip-Hopper by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr" style="font-weight: normal; "><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5106/5599614311_1e75e1bc4c.jpg" width="500" height="253" alt="Hip-Hopper" /></a><br /><br />Revelations<br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5844027809/" title="Revelations by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr" style="font-weight: normal; "><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3052/5844027809_052f7a7894.jpg" width="500" height="439" alt="Revelations" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Last Words<br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5404338418/" title="Last Words by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr" style="font-weight: normal; "><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5252/5404338418_c2d973f37d.jpg" width="500" height="251" alt="Last Words" /></a><div style="font-weight: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-weight: normal; "><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5404338418/" title="Last Words by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"></a>For those unfamiliar with Indian mythology, Godsay was the man who relieved Mohandas of his earthly burdens.<br /><div><br /></div></div>Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-25362376012984701822011-02-03T09:03:00.002+05:302012-03-16T11:53:42.482+05:30Brain Teasing humour<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5411845733/" title="Brain Tumour by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4115/5411845733_a2ba1b495b_z.jpg" width="521" height="640" alt="Brain Tumour" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Chemi</span><span class="Apple-style-span" >kazi</span> |</span><span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" > Coming Soon</span></i><b><span style="font-style:italic;"></span></b></span><br />Music that you listen triggers some kind of response.Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-76628779567026802882011-02-02T22:54:00.001+05:302012-03-16T11:53:42.483+05:30Superstar Deejays<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5410419135/" title="Planet Dust by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5013/5410419135_d2e13ba26f_z.jpg" width="420" height="640" alt="Planet Dust" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5410382317/" title="the Lady by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5178/5410382317_8d96f1c1aa.jpg" width="500" height="383" alt="the Lady" /></a>Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-53130707719936041822011-01-18T12:53:00.001+05:302012-03-16T11:53:42.484+05:30Shiver: For my babe in black.<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5366573144/" title="Shiver: My babe in black. by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5161/5366573144_c6127a95e2_z.jpg" width="453" height="640" alt="Shiver: My babe in black." /></a>Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-38025944800447462412011-01-09T15:23:00.005+05:302012-03-16T12:09:49.178+05:30RoomHour<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5346363474/" title="S. S. Gautama by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5121/5346363474_5c82988c9f_z.jpg" width="491" height="640" alt="S. S. Gautama" /></a><br /><br />Coherence is the gift of patience; it’s been along time.<br /><br />The black and white keys of the piano were humming random tunes of another floating fife as its legs grappled and bumped against the surprisingly uneven ground – the earthworm dodged it. The instrument obviously didn’t foresee being dragged across the garden against its will and thus omitted making adjustments for the same in its evolution – now leaving marks on the floor. How random, we all thought.<br /><br />The setting sun emitted some maroon, or perhaps the sky was pink, never can be quite too sure about the colour of the ink – each to its own anyway, so we argued, or agreed, argued to agree, to a certain degree. The mood was whirling a bit. It was then that we noticed the swirling of the tapestry, unfurling. The clouds and space moved sideways – a small clean crisp crackle is all we heard of the evening break.<br /><br />“What is that?” she exclaimed, looking up at creation blinking like a confused tube light. Something is happening, something that even these words cannot grasp, how, can we clasp a, it was pretty, ah yes, the phenomena. There is something about it, something is coming down, I could smell some sort of vapour, maybe gas – or something, watch closely, see the bull, what was I saying, wait; something’s happening;<br /><br />This is mad, mad net prisms, magnetism, word schisms, shifting revisions, match trick enchantment, magic hypnotic entrancement, invigorating figures fading light invading pervading all clear all that you know that you may know that you don’t know you know now that you don’t know now no one know to know one. Clear. Now. Teletranceportation.<br /><br />Ebb and flow, to and fro, there was an echo – “Hello,<br />You cannot rule out the possibility that creatures only overwhelmingly superior to yourself are interested in what is happening here. It would be ignorant, and ignorant to a level that you would be ignorant about, to assume otherwise. Assumptions too; why even bother with limiting yourself to a few. Boxing, creating prisms for your mind, prisons of perception. A random kaleidoscope patterned in preconception – self deception, misdemeanor unparalleled. The gift of life and procreation held tightly in the crutches of conditioned comforts, repetition and other illusionary consorts. Aren’t you so happy now? Kingdom come crowned above the brow, ruling without even knowing why and how. Suspicious about your subconscious? Hold my hand –<br />Magnetic mechanism: Gravity – piecing together all that needs to be. A critical mass of energy. You see yourself and you see others that maybe just a reflection to give you an idea of where you stand, what you are and how you can. Push the envelope, the button, don’t throw it in a can and cannot, restricting the ways you were brought up till the top to be taught by the same silliness which you so conveniently chose to shun aside and forgot. Pointing fingers is harsh when there is no one to blame but you, I understand but don’t empathize, your stupidity is that which you must confront and revise. Imbibe be wise, not some smart ass selling yourself your lies to move along with all those mirages of death that dance before your eyes. The loud crowd, take a sword and bleed your proud little delusions and confusions until they shrivel and shroud into the darkness from which they did arouse. You are not your body, you are no body on a crusade against that which pervades the spirit of love – and no not words, these can be a twisted into convenience by any coward. Take these tools to enhance the trance in which through your body you dance, just by chance. Find the balance until then we will meet when we shall meet and greet and tweet and talk and walk and stalk and rock back into there from where I picked you into space that you know you should be back on the mother ship where there was a sound, a tone, a few bones and flesh and blood and sweat and Churchill and the rest slowly coming back to life and its hypocrisy after witnessing the mirror conspiracy.”<br /><br />“Thievery corporation, they make some really good music don’t they” she exclaimed, looking at me with that ever charming smile, those glistening white teeth layered in her saliva, all so sweet.<br />“How was the DMT?”<br />“Oh, it’s mad. I can’t believe they sell this shit. All these songs coming back into the mix”<br />“Steven Wilson, Martinez, Pink Floyd, Shpongle, all these buggers are pretty nuts aren’t they?”<br />“Totally.”Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-68013664944063094172011-01-09T15:18:00.002+05:302012-03-16T12:09:49.179+05:30Snakecharmer<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5345676191/" title="Boom Parvati by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5086/5345676191_c88cf1dfe2_z.jpg" width="491" height="640" alt="Boom Parvati" /></a><br /><br />Listen to the music -<br /><br /><i>Coiled and curled, crossing in curves, contoured with colours – concocting crawling. From a hundred paths the centipede enters the canal, in ear park; quivering lips whispering lisps of those that would spark the light to split, slit, spit, and start:</i><br /><br />“Do you know who you are or what you do? The priorities that determine me and you. Hey, hush – wait, don’t start. They may just tear you apart. Isn’t it weird, to be all alone – without a place to go to and nothing left to hone. There is no home for those who just want to roam. You can’t be a drifter, hear the bell, the ticking clock, it’s time to feed and time to sleep; work and don’t stop – Paolo’s pigs. <i>See that</i>. I offer the double deluxe bundle of doubt and salvation. Circular tradition. Come back for more, stay with me – discounts, freebees, the chance to see the light and others are all here for thee. <i>See how fine it is</i>.<br /><br />‘There was a boy who went up a road. The strain upon his fragile legs was quite much. The altitude continuously changed, it affected his breathing – he was going higher.’<br /><br />So many possibilities; metaphorical. Now pick any string from the rant and make your own stories. Is he is walking? Which road is he talking? What is his path and destination? Where is he going? Why? Or is he on drugs - high as a kite? Does a kite walk? Or flying? Which one is he doing? Floating? Swimming? Is air for a bird the same as water for a fish? Shit, the woeful lot of possibilities from such silliness. O’ hear my calls and answer me. Affirmations. Confirmations. You must be smart to make such determinations. My tongue of intellect has grasped your definition. Venomous injections, fangs on your neck, here is my kiss of romance, stay with me and I’ll slay you in my trance. It rhymes in an American accent, Puerto Rican ferment, North African descent, Arabian scent, British lament, Indian well spent, dividing you with geography, or any other differential possibility; the serpent.<br /><br />Charm me, dance with me. Together we will orgasm in this fantasy.Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-5660862464209636402010-12-27T18:24:00.001+05:302012-03-16T12:03:01.866+05:30One Deadly Poem<div style="text-align: left;">Death's become the reason for our</div><div style="text-align: left;">Death's the way to find the cure for</div><div style="text-align: left;">Death's why we are not too sure of</div><div style="text-align: left;">Death's the game by which we score our</div><div style="text-align: left;">Death's the world by which we view our</div><div style="text-align: left;">Death's the plane through which we breed our</div><div style="text-align: left;">Death's the card to propagate a</div><div style="text-align: left;">Death's the mind final treason as</div><div style="text-align: left;">Death is a dreams illusion.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Death is our fears and delusion.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Death is a thorn for solution.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Death is its own condition</div><div style="text-align: left;">to cover the dearth on earth.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Un-earth.</div>Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-83076931973914114502010-10-18T13:14:00.003+05:302012-03-16T11:53:42.485+05:30You cannot rule out the Possibility!<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5092834188/" title="Skitz by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4103/5092834188_6e6c594ce1_z.jpg" alt="Skitz" height="741" width="520" /></a></div>Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-70209315787903464642010-10-18T13:13:00.002+05:302012-03-16T11:53:42.485+05:30Mildly Hallucinogenic<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rijulb/5097790373/" title="Mildly Hallucinogenic by Rijul Bhatia, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1092/5097790373_8bfe945ba6_z.jpg" width="520" height="722" alt="Mildly Hallucinogenic" /></a>Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8185214582817644829.post-27652163930696891642010-10-18T05:59:00.002+05:302012-03-16T12:09:49.181+05:30The Janitor“I take out the skeletons and you fill it with corpses, I am the Janitor and you the Metropolis.”<br /><br />The air was stale inside the room that he found himself in that fateful evening. A story starts with a familiarity that can only impart the notion of repetitiveness abusing the reader’s sense of decisiveness. Should I read on or shall I be gone? Confusion has been born before the break of dawn.<br /><br />The windows were the same squared designs letting in the lines of light, which did ignite the colour pigments of his skin. He walked in front of the mirror, the only door, wondering if there was any point in it anymore. The broom in his hand and a task so bland and so bleak that it made him believe it was unnecessary and as he waged his war on the weak. “There would be days when I could feel, the coming of the end of this reel.”<br /><br />That fateful day however, walked in a man, shaded in the white scalp of age, he did come unwittingly into the cage.<br /><br />“Do you know what you’re doing here old man?”<br />“Nor I neither you.”<br />“What is this, a riddle in a can?”<br />“I’m here to see you through.”<br />“You walked in through the door.”<br />“I could not take it any more.”<br />“There is a whole world trapped outside the walls”<br />“Aye, I too do hear its calls”<br />“Yet now you believe its time to chase your shadow?”<br />“Nay, Its time to walk out of this hollow…”<br />“Remember – at one point you too walked under a sky so blue”<br />“I do, and you?”<br />“Stop. You don’t understand what its like.<br />The world out there is full of spite”<br />“I’m not sure if I should be the memory,<br />cast aside to reflect upon ever so meekly.”<br />“When we were young, now too old…”<br />“However did your confidence get so cold?<br />I was digging a grave that was meant for me,<br />But perhaps that is where you should be.”<br /><br />And for a childish while, the Janitor did smile as the light bore into the darkness – dissolving eternity in its bliss. There were no windows, no doors, and no black bricks; for the man who walked did not know any of these tricks.Rijul Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10742344320072695101noreply@blogger.com0