A graduate student of mathematics who used to come to the university on foot every day arrives one day on a fancy new bicycle.
“Where did you get the bike from?” his friends want to know.
“It’s a `thank you’ present”, he explains, “from that freshman girl I’ve been tutoring. But the story is kind of weird…”
“Well”, he starts, “yesterday she called me on the phone and told me that she had passed her math final and that she wanted to drop by to thank me in person. As usual, she arrived at my place riding her bicycle. But when I had let her in, she suddenly took all her clothes off, lay down on my bed, smiled at me, and said: `You can get from me whatever you desire!'”
One of his friends remarks: “You made a really smart choice when you took the bicycle.”
“Yeah”, another friend adds, “just imagine how silly you would have looked in a girl’s clothes – and they wouldn’t have fit you anyway!”
I miss my mornings
lit by the soft orange sun;
the fresh cold breeze
mourning the night’s dreams;
pretending not seen the woman
getting the garbage can;
sipping tea by the road
with blank eyes and a dull brain;
at least for a few moments
escaping the watch of the tech routine;
till the sun gets harsh for the eyes
and the tea: lukewarm and tasteless.
Mulla Nasrudin went to see his lawyer about a divorce. “What grounds do you think you have for a divorce?” the lawyer asked. “It’s my wife’s manners,” said the Mulla. “She has such bad table manners that she is disgracing the whole family.” “That’s bad,” the lawyer said. “How long have you been married?” “Nine years,” said the Mulla. “If you have been able to put up with her table manners for nine years, I can’t understand why you want a divorce now,” the lawyer said. “WELL,” said Nasrudin, “I DIDN’T KNOW IT BEFORE. I JUST BOUGHT A BOOK OF ETIQUETTE THIS MORNING.”
“Now that we are married,” she said to Mulla Nasrudin, “perhaps I can point out a FEW OF YOUR defects.”
“Don’t bother, dear,” replied Nasrudin. “I KNOW ALL ABOUT THEM. IT’S THOSE DEFECTS THAT KEPT ME FROM GETTING A BETTER WIFE THAN YOU.”
Last night when I switched on the channel to the noisy newshour about beheading of one of our soldiers on LOC. Almost everyone agrees that the killings on LOC is common and so very much acceptable but not beheading. It’s like saying rape is common and so very much neglect-able but rape with assault can make the whole country go crazy. I did not go crazy about this news like many other like-minded insensitive people. I have been reading of rape news from the time I could hold newspaper. That was not even the age of information and we lived in a thatched house. Still there was no dearth of such news from any source. And many showered the victim with titles: brave heart and what not. What the fuck? Brave heart? For God sake she was just a very unfortunate poor victim who died. And any soldier killed in a war waged due to any stupid cause is a Martyr.
More people have died of patriotism:regional and otherwise than plague? Why is this camouflage of titles, selling of illusory cause to the common man? Who has to hide behind this coining of patriotic words? Who has to gain from this patriotism industry? Movie Directors? Politicians? Arm sellers?
Take your pick.
The way your hand laid on mine, bare;
felt there is more to it than just care,
and saw entwined, the soft and lovely fingers;
just wished our fates could similarly conspire.
It wasn’t a bond or a burden either;
just floated like the butterfly, in the fresh morning air.
the warmth of the touch and it’s ardour;
left me breathless and wanting for more.
Know the heart may ditch and not be mine any more;
still I take my chances worthy of this adventure.