Identity Versus Individuality

Identity in Philosophy : Also called sameness, is whatever makes an entity definable and recognizable

As per any dictionary :

i·den·ti·ty

  [ahy-den-ti-tee, ih-den-]

noun, plural i·den·ti·ties.

1.

the state or fact of remaining the same one or ones, as under varying aspects or conditions

2.

the condition of being oneself or itself, and not another

3.

condition or character as to who a person or what a thing is

4.

the state or fact of being the same one as described.

5.

the sense of self, providing sameness and continuity in personality over time and sometimes disturbed in mental illnesses

Well, if a name identifies me , then I am who I am just because a word says so. 

But, am I just a name. Is my identity defined by my name or my personality and my work?

I won't take any other example but my own. 

My maiden name is very different from the name I currently exhibit. I was popular even with that name, successful and happy. With my new name, I am infamous, popular of course, successful for others but the name itself sets my life in shambles. 

Why so? You may ask and the answer is ....

Your name defines your fate. 

Example; It was Lord Krishna's Birth Anniversary a couple of days ago and I was tagged with him... People tag me as Radhe Shyam, Radhe Govind etcetra etcetra. Why tag me as Lord Krishna's love interest? Why should that name define me or my fate? But, it does to some extent.

My identity is my work, my children and their actions. 

I had an identity as my father's daughter ... Am proud of my legacy

I had an identity as my in laws daughter in law ... Am proud I was a good Daughter in Law

I had an identity as the wife of an upcoming Naval officer ... I was proud of that identity and still am, despite a divorce from the said person

I have an identity as a mother to two very bright individuals ... am proud of it

But, somewhere in enacting all these roles I never realised I was Someone, That I had an identity of my own. MY OWN INDIVIDUALITY.

So, I won't say that changing names changes who I am ... My own individuality should remain as it is untouched by any aspersions as such.

So, It's not Pushpalata Chauhan  or Radhika Nanda that my Identity is, My identity is the family I represent, the children I gave birth to, The people I touched in my life ... The work that defines my personality.

My identity is the legacy I leave behind in the form of well informed youth of tomorrow via my School and the work I do. My identity are the countless coworkers, colleagues and my staff that have benefited with my presence in their lives.

I am proud to be known as my Father's Daughter

I am proud to be known as Angad and Anusuya's Mom

I am proud of my legacy ... not only as a daughter but as a daughter in law and now as an Individual in my own right.

My identity changed with every role I played ...

Despite a divorce, I maintain my marital name... for that is the identity my children identify with... Do I have the right to change it for them? Will it be right for me to do so? 

I am proud of being known as Radhika Nanda ... The Phoenix that rose from her ashes ... No identity crisis here ... but an individual born of conflict and pain Once Again.

By changing my name, I didn't change my destiny nor myself ... I grew stronger and developed my own individuality.

So, it is not identity that matters but your uniqueness.

How Unique and different are you from the rest of the World?

Name can be changed but NOT YOU. You stand out alone in a crowd different from the rest because of your uniqueness and your personality.

So, when you change your name and tag someone's surname to your name, you embrace that person as your own, you melt in with their personality and emerge a victor with a new name and a stronger person Because, you have added more vitamins and energy boosters to your already defined personality.

By changing your name, you don't change anything about you but you get closer to the other and his or her family. Ye, the prerogative need not be only for a woman to change her name but a man can also do the same and that is where the difference lies ... a woman is an all becoming epitome of sacrifice .... but, she can keep her name and that of her partner too yet remain single in her Uniqueness ... that is an INDIVIDUAL.

Sam & Chandru ... A love story that never started

He loved her name ... That's what he said to her. Sameekshaa ... Cutie Beauty

She sheds a few tears , still remaining at the edge ... and turns her face remembering the Night Owl ... How much he seemed to have loved her and when she really felt it ... he left breaking her forever. He had never seen her yet loved her and professed undying love and now knowing who she was, He left.

She really loved him ... keeping awake the whole night just to be with him. She still waits each night staring at the screen where she met him ... online and just stares at the screen and he never shows up . he moved on, she was just another catch that went Wrong all the way.

She was just passing by, he had contacted her. She knew it was a dead end already yet she loved him and went ahead. She took a risk when she felt he would understand and trusted him, as he would always say to her ... Trust me. She trusted him and he left.

Except for name and age, everything she said was true ... he liked her talks then how did everything else matter ... she was still the same he had opened up to. Now, even that is doubtful, he isn't who he said he was. He lied too, didn't he. What hurt his Male Alter Ego? His lies caught or her simple truth?

It was a beautiful Love Story unfolding each night ... She would feign anger and he would love her unconditionally , putting her to sleep in his arms till dawn beckoned them apart.
Now, she waits upon him Dusk to dawn to Dusk ... but there is no one with his open arms to hug and tell her , I am here, I will be here always.

He said he would be there always .... He is nowhere to be seen.

Yes, she can see him happy in a virtual World with others and it saddens her heart to even see him interacting happily with others when he had professed his undying love to her.

The Professor of Love and Lust maybe ..  but not the man he projected to her.

More to Follow #TheTrollersPark

The Protagonist ..

The person that writes these words ...
The Woman of many shades ...
She confesses her Reality ...
Do not confuse it with a weakness ...
Her confessions make her stronger.

Know it well ...
She pours her heart out ...
Yet, she doesn't cow down to distress ...
In adversity ...
She finds her strength ...
Her morality is her conviction.

She has always loved and truly ...
Loss is just a state of mind ...
They all know ...
She loved wholeheartedly ...
With conviction ...
But, moving on is Life itself.

She is no Dead leaf ...
She lives ...
She breathes  life ...
A puff of air ..
Like smoke in the air..
A Fresh breath of life ...
She loves with all her heart ...
Her feelings never confined.

Her spirit wild and free ..
Can never be caged ...
Never contained is the Ghost of past Love.

The Protagonist of all the stories told and retold ...
Love each character that appears ...
No regrets ever ...
She learnt  a lot from each one.

No Matter What...

No matter what you say or do ... I Love You.

The day I realised that I exposed myself to you .... you hated me for that. But, I was always the same ... Yet you never realised it.

Loving you is all I know. Against all hopes , I shall wait upon love to really dawn upon you.
You feel otherwise but Love sees no barriers ... age ain't a criteria to ever fall in love.

Am happy in the knowledge that I shall love you unconditionally and for a moment you did love me.  I read our notes of love exchanged in days afore .... and relive those thoughtless, reckless moments.

Life is one jelly bean jumping from place to place .. but, love hath cometh and thou shalt never forget me.

No matter what the World says ... I will never stop loving you.

No matter what you think ... I will always love you.

Parameters for Love ...

I have realized one thing for sure; There is no age that is a set parameter to ever fall in love.

I have time and again been in an amorous relationship with men younger than me for no apparent reasons and thanks to the so called Social Taboos of our mindsets and societies, have ended those relations.

But, this time round ... no way am I gonna back out. I love this intelligent young man  and loving him is all I know. I listen to what he says , I allow him to take the decisions too. it feels nice when someone takes charge and calls the shots  rather than you.

He is smart, suave, sophisticated and intelligent .. Originally from Lucknow. What else can a Lady ask for?

There's an unseen chemistry that allows for communication to flow between the two of us. One look from him is enough for me to know what to do.

The decade long age gap shouldn't be burden if all is well. He doesn't need to commit ... my commitment is enough for the fire to burn within me forever.

I ask not for his share of love .... I only give mine.

He is mine for keeps ... in mind, body and soul and I don't need to ask for anyone's permission or approval . Not even his.

My love and feelings are mine and for me to express freely.

There are never any set parameters for and in love. There are none in our case.

Legend has it that all the immortal Lovers had the female lover always older than the male. Then, why such a taboo today?

Lynched Words ...

What worth is a Writer for ...
If their words are curbed ...
What worth is a Wordsworth...
If his poem is cut short?

My words you have slashed ...
like my wrist ...
A bleeding Heart ...
Shall write no more of love.

The bloodbath of my story ...
The Gory end to my Lovetales.

By deleting my words ...
I have committed Harakairi ...
All for your senseless Love ...
All to please ...
Your false alter ego.

You can not destroy ...
What is within me ...
It is mine to keep ...
Keep your false social taboos to yourself ..
I shall forever love you.

Lynched words ... you are the Hangman ....
But, feelings not deleted ...
They are mine and ONLY mine to keep.

I want to break free ...

I want to break free ...
From the belief that I am perfect....
I want to break free ...
From the belief that I can't cry ...
I want to break free ...
From the shackles of a perfect life.
I want to break free and be reborn ...
I want to walk away ...
from responsibilities ...
I want to be free from being a Woman ...
I just want to BE.

How can I ?
When they all depend on me ...
No one is indispensable ...
Yet, this feeling ... What if ...
What if I walk away ...
Who will Run the School ?
What if I run away...
Who will take care of my kids?
This chain of What ifs is killing me slowly ...
I feel so claustrophobic ...
Hound by thoughts of freedom ...
Freedom from Human bondage ...
Freedom from being Ms. Perfect.
Haunted by statements of endearment ...
I run helter skelter ...
Trying to keep these loving voices out...
I want to break free from being humane.

Why can't I just walk away?
Why do I turn back and return?
Why can't I be emotionless?
Why Can't I break free?

The Princess and The Frog Prince ... Story Retold ...

She was born with a Silver Spoon ... In a large Palatial home ... To the Manor born was she ...

A background loaded with Colonial tales and British stiff upper lip upbringing. A princess to her Daddy ... A strict disciplinarian. She never saw the Outer World ... beyond the gates of their Grounds.

She would read books on the World Beyond ... Tales of Around the World in 80 days ... yet, she knew not what lay ahead.

One day, A crestfallen Mother took this Child out ... The Daddy was no more and the Princess no more a Princess. Mother and Daughter started living in a cottage by the Countryside... Mother went out looking for Work one day ... And, never returned. Some say, she ran away from her responsibility towards the Princess , some say she jumped off the cliff. The Little girl was taken in by a Wealthy relative who took pity on her. She went to the City with his Family.

She studied in a convent governed and run by Nuns. Under strict vigilance , all thoughts restricted; She grew up to be  a fine Lady. Then, One day the Wealthy Uncle too passed away. They branded her a Witch, the relatives, none ready to take her in... for misfortune followed anyone who kept her. The Nuns found her a job with a baker.

The Princess now a baker, would wake up each morning at 4 am set the oven on and bake the best of breads, baguettes, pastries and pies. The baker became rich on her talent. He was a good soul and a great person. He had a son, who was a paraplegic; He would always sit at the counter of the bakery and look at the girl work relentlessly day in and day out. He was head over heels in love with this beauty but was afraid to open up to her.

She always wondered , why the shy young man stared at her and when she looked he would turn his face away.

The Baker and his wife knew. But, they were helpless; How could they ask her to marry their Handicapped Son?

The Worried Baker one day fell very sick and on his death bed mustered the courage and asked the Girl if she would accept his son as her Husband. She looked at the Son and and the Kind old soul who had sheltered her in er trying times and said Yes. The baker heaved a sigh of relief and his soul escaped in that one moment. He was liberated.

The funeral over and done with ... The Baker's wife One day approached  the Girl and said 'I know you are bound by your promise to my late husband to marry my Son, but; i don't want you to marry him out of compulsion. you are free to lead your own life and marry anyone you feel like. " And, she hung her head low and walked away.

The next morning after the baking was done, the Girl went to the local church and met the Nuns. told them the whole story and asked them for their advice. the Principal Matron said,'Child, Follow your Heart. do what you feel is right."

The Girl came home smiling and hugged the Baker's wife and said ," Can I call you Mamma? I need a Mother , and a Man who would have eyes only for me; That man is your Son. Can I marry him Mamma?"
The Bakers wife was thrilled , the Son in the other room who had overheard it all ... burst into the room where the Girl was and stood up from his Wheel Chair and said , "Your love will cure me soon Dear. I Love you."

The Girl turned around and said," I have always loved you but I was afraid of loving you for I didn't want to lose you . who ever loved me left me, so I was afraid to lose you."

The next few days, saw a lot of festivities and the Girl in the meanwhile massaged  and therapeutically got the Young lover walking again all the miracle of love. Pure blessed love. She would bake the best of pastries and bread and became very famous.

They were married the next Spring and they all lived happily ever after. The curse that followed her from Childhood was lost forever.

The Princess and her Prince lived and baked and they say that the bread from their bakery has magical powers. It heals anyone who consumes it of any illness. They bake each loaf with love. The secret is LOVE.

He says .. Love is an investment ...

Whoa! It hit like a Torpedo...When he said he is on Social Networking Sites, Looking at investing in Rich , lonesome Girls , who would fall an easy prey to his smooth talks and he can enjoy a laid back smooth life resting on the Girl's riches.

I was shocked. This is what these so called young Cosmopolitan men are seeking. I nearly threw up.
Thank God! I was saved in the nick of time , him exposing his own reality in a boisterous moment goading himself at the thought that he has ensnared and trapped girls from Gujarat to Allahabad to Lucknow to Hyderabad in his net.

Sick but sad truth ... this is just one person. there are countless others posing as pious and intellectuals and patriotic men but in reality frauds who are making use of Social networking Sites to make Girls fall in love with them till they become inseparable and either marrying them for the riches or blackmailing them for money.

A vicious circle of Mad Men, old men , perverts and Paedophiles using these Networks to fulfill their lustful ways and life.

Sameekshaa was created to expose one such lie ... Chandru  who has now resorted to unfair means of threatening the person who has exposed him  with dire consequences. Sad state of affairs that a man of spurious character should roam around freely like this and hailed as a great Teacher, which he is NOT.

It saddens me to quip that girls who have been forewarned haven't paid heed and in the raging hormonal mood sided with the villain believing his lies.

Sad Truth .... but will be exposed in #TrollersPark

The Love - Hate Relation we share now ...

The Love that once was ...
Has turned into hatred ...
A Love - Hate Relation...
We Share ... You and I ...
The dark nights remind me ...
Of the Knight you posed as ...
A shadow of your true self ...
Lay exposed to me ...
A fanatic for lust galore ...
You seek women day and night ...
To satisfy your loneliness ...
Your ego and alter ego ...
But, in doing so...
Do you realize what you do those women?

You put the blame on me ...
Whereas it was the other way round ..
you were playing with my feelings ...
Another fish in your net.
Why?

I want an answer ...
An answer to the blasphemy ...
Of your mask ...
your Reality ...
And, who you are.

It is Love that stops me from taking action ...
It is hate that makes me expose you ...
Hatred for the person you are ...
Hatred for the fake character role you play.

You ask me what I want...
I seek Justice....
Justice from your opinionated version of me ...
An explanation for all the promises broken.

The Love - Hate relation will continue ....

There's a lot ...

There's a lot to be written about...
There's a lot to be spoken about ...
There's a lot ...
To be inferred from ...
There's a lot to think about ...
There's a lot ...
Yet, so little to achieve.

What's there to think about?
It is all in the past they say.
They say, forget and forgive ...
They say move on ..
But, is it so easy to do so?
Is it so easy to forget an incident,
That changed the course of your life?
Is it so easy to forget the person...
Who made you lose your self esteem?
Is it so easy to forget ...
The chain of events that followed?
Is it?...

Lot of anger....
Bottled within ...
Lot of pain withheld ...
Lots to spill out ...
Lots to tell about.

#TrollersPark

Read on

Sameekshaa Chaturvedi ... http://confessionsofanunjustlady.blogspot.com/2013/08/sameekshaa-chaturvedi.html

Sameekshaa Chaturvedi ...

Born with a silver spoon in her mouth ... the little girl was oblivious to the pain of the World around her.

The second time round she was born ... she woke up in a pool of blood ... Not hers but ...

Thoroughly loved and pampered, she belonged to a family of eminent people . Her Daddy was the coolest .... A James Bond Personality, seen three brutal attacks the scars as bullet wounds on his torso evident of what his profession was yet a low profile IB officer living in the midst of commoners as a commoner. No one knew who he was but the Government.

He mingled in Diplomatic circles , a beautiful wife alongside. They were Happy.

One day, Sameekshaa wanted a particular doll.... he took her out and she returned home but he didn't.

They were travelling in the car with the driver , a Senior Inspector dressed as a Civilian Driver ... Suddenly , at a crossroad , there were Trucks coming at them at top speed ... In that instant.... IB Chief Chaturvedi knew ... That was the end. He had his daughter with him ... they were hit from both sides by the trucks.... the little girl saw the scenario unawares of what was to come. The car flung into the air and landed upside down, Daddy covered Little Sameekshaa for he knew what was coming ... there was a spray of bullets from all round and then there was silence. Sameekshaa had passed out. When she opened her eyes , she was lying in a pool of blood .... Her own yes ... Daddy's blood. She was blank and staring at the dead weight on her. Her Daddy had saved her.

He was given a silent funeral... no medals no honour .. he was a secret no one knew. She knew ... she knows and that is why she is who she is today .... A Skeletal remain who sees everything clad in blood soaked clothes.

Her mother blamed her for his death. Had she not asked for the doll, Daddy wouldn't have gone out. She was the culprit, the reason behind her widowhood. To this day, Mom doesn't talk to her. To this day, Sameekshaa looks at her photograph and cries each night. She never slept after that day and to this day, walks the World over all alone in the night seeking her Daddy. Where will she get her Daddy from?

She left home, when she turned Eighteen and never went back ... They call her, the Relatives but she has vowed not to go back till she finds Daddy and takes him back home to Mom and she knows deep within her heart , that she will never go back home.

She has travelled the World over ... High up and low ... All her relationships suffered as no one understood what she was seeking . A killer she annihilates and rids the Earth of offenders. No one knows her. No one ... Not even her Mom. She walks the nights ,,,, the streets and rids it of roaches of the society .... A silent killer .... She seeks Revenge ... She seeks the one responsible for her Daddy's death.

She sees the Killer in every man that lies ... she sees him in every cheat ... she sees him everywhere.

She searches high and low for the one the one that ordered her father's termination. She seeks him everywhere.

Judge her not based on your assumptions and presumptuous biased views ... see her as the little girl that opened her eyes soaked in her own father's blood. See her as the little girl who seeks justice from the Government for whom her Father died but never acknowledged his sacrifice. She seeks justice for her Mother , who still dresses everyday in Bridal finery waiting for her Husband as she did that day , it was Karvachauth ... she still awaits him. Sameekshaa can not see her Mother in this state.

Understand her dilemma ... is all she says to the ones left behind.

Nostalgia ...Electronics Junkie .. etcetra ...

Just ... Get me started will ya .... That's what I yell at my Samsung galaxy tab ... Yikes! Getting a hang of technology is what keeps me young in every which way possible. Always at it opening and shredding apart machines just to know what makes them tick.

Am always tinkering with gadgets since childhood. I remember when girls my age played with dolls I built a Ham  radio and listened to people talk over frequencies... I could tap into telephones  ... i was a freak scientist.

I was an avid collector of Arachnids and insects of diabolical appearances. My mom had a tough time keeping my lab clean as the maids refused to enter my Haven of specimens. Biology being my favourite subject, weekends saw me in Naval hospital labs looking at specimens and under the microscopes or assisting friendly Doctors and technicians in the Radiology department or Pathology labs.

When I got married my in laws were aghast, there was a truckload of books that I carried with me along with all my specimens which of course they discarded instantly asking the army jawans in Lucknow to destroy them immediately. I was saddened by this lack of sensitivity towards my Hobby and passion.

I remember collecting and reading Life magazine, Time and National Geographic. I had all the volumes.
I was keen on Genetics and had the best of publications coming to me from all over the World ... The matter for my dissertation on Antisense RNA came all the way from Maryland University... I remember it was stuck in bureaucratic hassles as I stayed at the Naval base and anything Foreign was subject to abject scrutiny.

Staying next to a 18 Hole Golf course next to the Sea at South Bombay, I was a keen Bird Watcher and would often be found in the swampy marshland nearby looking for life and movement.

The Golf Course , of course was my playground where I would train our German Shepherd Django along with Ratan Tata's Tito. The setting Sun was my muse and wish for a swim across the Sea into the Horizon.

Then, of course Clay modelling ... making sculptures as a Sculptor sculpting and carving Clay and driftwood... made a lot many artifacts. Always creating something or the other.

I was keen on Gymnastics and Ballet .. but learnt only Kathak and Bharatnatyam. though also learnt a bit of Manipuri Dance form. Then, again Folk Dance and Music, singing for All India Radio right from Childhood way past into youth from Andamans  to Bombay.

A colourful yet adventurous childhood and youth ... A past to be proud of ... I marched into A life of strife ... from a protected domain to a Wild and unbridled life of a Bride into a different community and clan. With much elan I held my head high and bore the brunt of being a Woman in India  which was never known as a daughter but more so as a Daughter in law. A flower withered away into unknown depths of sadness and depression only to emerge as a Frothing , fuming fire spitting Dragon ten years later. The innocence of yesteryear's lost and only anger projected forth. The state of anger continues though a bit mellowed down yet it remains dormant and erupts at times triggered mostly by the insanely arrogant opposite sex.

Each day a struggle to ignore ignorant fools but trigger they press and make me lose control and I seethe and singe them with my flares. My words that sting and hurt worse than any weapon imaginable and fathomable by humanity.

Anyways ... more shall come from the keyboard used to bring forth the pearls above ...

The Silver Valley Rafter ...

There is a place deep within the confines of The Great Grand Canyon .... No one has ever seen it ... no one has been able to discover it ... They call it the Silver Valley.

Legend has it that Only one lone Ranger crossed all hurdles to reach that Place and made it his home ... The Rafter.

An Old Injun saying makes him the legend that he has become .... The Rafter ... they say that he was kind and gentle yet a bounty hunter. He crossed the River of No Return and braved the rapids upstream to reach Silver Valley and decided to make it his home rather than ravage the beauty by mining.

There are folk lore of the Indians .... from days of yore of how he fell in love with an orphaned Indian Girl and married her and they lived happily ever after in Silver Valley.

More astonishing is their death. They died together ... hand held fast and lying in their wedding finery after five decades of holy matrimony.

Many brave came and went , they never found the valley ever again ... buried deep within the Grand Canyon lies a beautiful world of shine and sunshine untouched by anyone ever again. They say the spirit of the Rafter awaits one of pure heart to allow them entry to the Silver Valley.

A beautiful Valley awaits the entry of true lovers ... True  to their nature and Nature lovers for the pristine environs of the Silver Valley.

Banke ki Mansha kya thi? Just another Prized Possession?

Well, what was in his mind that he followed her and trapped her in his net?

No one knows ... Only Banke knows.

Sameekshaa confronted him with the Mansha issue. Who is this Mansha, that you are so close to?
 He said, Oh! She is no one just another Twitter follower for Time pass. She means nothing to me. You are my Cutie Beauty. Come in my arms, let me hug you. Don't be so insecure, I am only here for you.

Poor Sameekshaa, she believed all his lies and went weak. She believed him and his white lies about his career and family , she opened up and told him all about herself. A weakness Bankelal became for Sameekshaa, she stopped going to work ... all day long and night she would be with him. Whenever she questioned him about his flirting with Mansha and Shikha, he said they were nobody just Twitter followers. She believed every lie he told her. She stopped eating just waiting upon him.

People wondered what had gone wrong ... she didn't say. To this day, she is waiting somewhere within an  Iron exterior , waiting for him to turn back and say, I never cheated you Sameekshaa but reality is something else. He cheated on her all along. She was just another prized possession.

People ask her , why don't you sleep? She laughs it off...how can she say that she still waits for the Return of Chandra Shekhar Pati Tripathi. The man who disappeared into the oblivion.

She smiles a fake smile .... feigning happiness whereas all that she encompasses within her dainty self is painful ache of her Truth.

Why did she tell the Truth? It was beautiful till it lasted.


>>> To be continued #TrollersBook

Tables turned on a Conman ...

Imagine A Conman conned into believing and then disbelieving that he can be hurt in his own Game plan.  It happened  and a fact, he is sore about it and hurting as he didn't believe anyone could really turn the tables on him. When the tables turned he was like a cowering Hyena not knowing where to run to. he hid, then came out of hiding with another plan, much vicious than before but the Lair wasn't enough to save him and he was caught in his own net.

He thought he could ensnare Sameekshaa in his net and play with her feelings for a while and move on , little knowing that Sameekshaa his 'Cutie Beauty' was well aware of all his lies and intentions. She played along... all night long , all those nights while he fell in the trap and revealed his self ... another lie ... another white lie about himself.

All those lovey dovey conversations... sleepless nights in his virtual arms... She forgot who she was. She became the character she was portraying. She became one with him. She became His and that was the turning point.

She couldn't lie to him if she really loved him . Right? So, one night , she mustered the courage to brace herself against his wrath when she would reveal her identity to him. She did , and he flared up. Instead of appreciating the honesty, he felt cheated. the Cheat felt cheated. She was aghast ... he didn't love Sameekshaa at all. Not for a moment. All he was doing was trapping just another innocent girl in the name of love and false promises.

She retreated in to her shell to regain her composure and face him . A face off was needed. He was not ready to see the truth and irony of his existence. To this day he remains defensive whereas all she did was what he is doing even today and conning the rest of the World.


---->>> To be Continued #TrollersPark

That Moment When ...

That Moment when ...
You so lovingly removed that twig from my hair ...
I looked into your eyes ...
All I saw was Love ...
I knew it ...
No one can love me as much ...
That was the closest ...
I have ever ...
Been near you ...
But, Still ...
I Love you.

I couldn't believe it ...

When you said ...
Let's go house hunting ...
Your house ...
Yet you wanted me there ...
For my opinion....
I felt enamoured ...
It was so much fun ...
Looking up flats ...
Together with you ...
So much importance ....
I love you.

The other day ...
When you rushed up to greet me ...
Gosh! I lost my breath ...
I was surprised ...That you would rush up ....
To meet me ...
I couldn't contain my joy.

I can't look you in the eye ...
Lest you see my love ...
For you there ...
So I always look away ....
I don't want to tell you ...
I love you ...
For I don't want to ....
Ever lose you.

I never let you see my emotional side ...
You see me as Strong...
Yet you are my weakness ...
Oh How I wish ..
I could profess my love ...
My feelings to you ...
But, I can't ....
I don't want to lose you.

Just one random act ....
The twig incident ,,,,
Brought in the realisation ...
That I love you.

There's no one at the Top ...

It is lonely at the top ..
There is no one at the Top ...
One goes through trials and tribulations...
To reach a destination ...
The train journey ends ...
At a Station...
At the top ..
Where there is none to share the happiness ...
Of having reached the End.It is lonely at the Top ...
When you look behind ..
There is no one there ...
All left behind in living a life of your choice ...
No one at all ...
Just an eerie silence follows you ...
Ghosts of the past come up...
And whisper in your ear ..
This is what you chose ...
And, You look ahead and smile ...
Yeah! This is what I chose ..
No one but me at the Top ....
I smile a cynical grin ...
There's no one at the Top ..
Just me .. An Evil Grin spreads across my lips ...
And I move on further still ..
Amongst the clouds ...
All by myself.

It is lonely ...
But, I like my space ...
I love my solitude.

Blast it ...

Damn these Politicos that are ruining the lives of countless for their whims of fancies.

The blast in one of the Submarines has hit it hard... they are close to my heart .. The Naval servicemen. I grew up amongst them. I know what a hard life the families have to lead when the Bread earner is away for long periods of time and now No More.

My heart is heavy and there is an anger unfathomable for the loss of lives due to negligence.

No more can I ever say that I am proud to be an Indian.

Let me begin with a Colourful Character ... From #TheBookOfTrolls

Is This Really Master Saab alias Bankelal ? Good Question!

He goes by the name ... the very personification of the name BankeLal ... meaning a man with a Flirtatious character. The Twitter handle name @master_saab popularly known as Bankelal as Big B supposedly knows him as... an addict who is constantly on Twitter telling people he is a Teacher in some school in Uttar Pradesh. He ensnares and traps women with sweet words and guides them towards DMs ... yes, Direct Messages from where his game begins.

Bankelal alias Master Saab or Latest Dr. Chandru , a Scholar and Physicist from France for Girls in DM s and Gtalk and rediffmail. Name it and the guy has numerous ids to fake a love and profess to the unsuspecting members of the opposite sex.

When a sting operation was done to expose his truth, he turned around and cast aspersions on me with frustrated gusto. But guess what all that he said is well documented to catch him red handed on the job.

Now, what is the truth about this character? Is he really Chandru or just another jobless youth looking for trapping a rich girl for a nice life ahead. I have never known Scientist and Scholars to find time to be online on Social Networking sites for 20 hours a day. When would they perform their experiments? Right?

A Teacher on Twitter all the time? When does he go to School to Teach?

A jobless youth with a way with words . Yes! A con man indeed.

Sharing some footage from my very private conversation with this so called character >>>


"I am a very private person, who keeps his personal life away from people on Twitter, who come here only for Time pass..." Dude! What are you doing on Twitter then? I question.



Why are people hiding their identities ? Why can't they show their true selves and still do whatever they are doing behind masks and fake names? Why even fake everything about your existence?



More on this colourful being in the Next Blogpost under #TheBookOfTrolls

...And, The Story goes like this ...

Sometime around four years ago, a mind at unrest decided something had to be done to put it to rest. And, lo behold! The idea to write the anecdotes of alter lives people live came to mind.

And, The Social Networking Site 'Twitter' was the feeding ground for the beast within the Grey matter of that individual. A place where people frustrated from the daily grind of their monotonous lives lead an alternate life under fake handles as the Twitter identity is termed. Some use it productively to enhance the quality of their staid laid back lives. Some use it to improve their bank balances by conning people especially bored housewives and young girls new on Twitter. Failed people in Real lives making various handles and talking to themselves via those handles. Fun indeed watching a man talk to his own alternate handle as another individual.

It is fun to watch or as in Twitter vocabulary 'Troll' these people, read their Time Lines and their open lies. Fun to watch them make tall statements against the Government and eminent personalities but themselves leading lives of Lies.

These men and woman who have no individuality of their own. No sense of good and bad, pass judgments on others as if they are an authority on Human Psychology.

So, remain glued to the post to read each individual's life story , their reality and alternate life on Twitter ....

#TheTrollBook