Thoughts and Experiences of a Technical Writer
– is now up for my Technical Writer Friends.. 🙂
17th December, 2014 | 9:21 – 9:51
“If I do ask, How God can dumbness keep
While Sin creeps grinning through His house of Time,
Stabbing His saintliest children in their sleep,
And staining holy walls with clots of crime?—”
I sit today. Aghast.
Appalled as fiends –
I can’t bear to call them Men that Mother’s bore –
chanting Allah is Great
can commit such a hideously heinous deed –
can make the innocent blood bleed.
Yes, the animals were shot down.
But – does it end here? Anywhere?
As Lady Macbeth once feared –
the criminal masterminds shall too fear –
As there will always be the smell of the blood and
‘All the perfumes of Arabia’ will not sweeten their horrible hands.
They will lie awake as Macbeth,
and be terrifyingly tormented –
whose hands are plucking out their eyes!
Wash all you can, you demons, yet
all the water in the ocean cannot wash
this innocent, pure, blood from your hands!
Instead, your hands ‘will stain the seas scarlet,
turning the green waters red.’
I ask you – the other
gun-trotting, bomb-hurling, cold-blooded murderers –
will you, in the name of Jihad, support this deed?
Do you not worry about your own?
Remember – you HAVE to reap what you have sown.
What use are these killings,
Pray, tell me –
what do you want?
You silence the little left joyous sounds –
those of a child’s laughter –
in God’s Name?
Do you think even for once?
You claim you were tortured
and so you avenged –
but instead, you could have helped –
ended this cycle
used forgiveness – not AK47s –
as your weapons.
I can go on ranting –
and cannot further pretend –
Please, let’s all discuss,
find out ways for Peace –
and bring this to and end.
RIP, dear angels,
Maybe God did not want
you to see this ugly world
and wanted to keep you
Blessed around him,
surrounded in ethereal joys.
“I weep for you” – “I deeply sympathize”
23rd November, 2000 | 19:10 – 19:18
His eyes moved all around.
As did his neck –
while his hands slyly pocketed
the nine new, still smelling of wood, Pocket Diaries
in his long overcoat.
He was making sure that nobody sees him.
But, what about Him?
“Bah!” he thought. “I ain’t no Saint.
And I ain’t not robbing no poor.
I’m Men D’oza,
and I live by robbin’ the rich.
I help the poor, like meself, yessir,
and I know it ain’t no wrong.”
Thinking thus, with a proud, erect gait,
he walked out of the gate,
The work has been inspired by a character called Mendoza from Man and Superman by G.B. Shaw, whose English (if it can be called so) has been aligned to the style of how Eliza Doolittle speaks in Shaw’s another great work, Pygmalion.
20th September, 2000 | 18:00 – 18:05
Frail fingers found
sodden and cold.
Winter had returned but
Love and Desire were hot.
I grope through Eternity
seeking to meet
Some random thoughts written based on words provided by a Competition titled ‘Poetry In Motion’.
The picture used can be found at the following link: http://marthaspong.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/gropingforlightswitch.jpg
Thanks for the perfect image! 🙂
4th August, 2000 | 23:40 – 23:55
“My friends must be waiting for me. I’ll just get a bandage done quickly, take a shot of pain killer, and move ahead.”
Checking his high-power spects, he thought Bollywood style “Hmm..maybe the hit on my head will improve my vision a bit, as also improve my memory power!” – and laughed out.
“Oh no! Where’s my bag and cycle?” He turned around to see an helping angel riding his cycle just behind him, carrying his bag.
Relieved, he suddenly remembered his planned rendezvous with the one he liked. “How am I going to let her know? She must be already waiting!”
With these thoughts, he never realized when the rickshaw pulled inside the hospital. It being just 7:15 AM, the Doctor was not available. The Compounder, however, understanding the gravity of the situation, gave a call, and started administering first aid. He made him lie down, and brought the kit.
He slowly started to remove the roughly applied bandage around his head, and suddenly reacted – “Who has applied so much sugar?” Still lying down, he explained that his new found roadside friends did whatever best to stop blood loss, and that the sugar might have improved clotting. “Agreed”, said the Compounder, smiling, “but half a kilo sugar!”, and continued cleaning the injury. It seems that as soon as the wound found an opening, there was a small jet of blood that shot out, seeing which the angel who had brought him, screamed. The Compounder scolded him and asked him to wait outside. It was the first time that he realized the seriousness of the injury.
The Doctor arrived and looking at the wound said that immediate stitches would have to be applied, and if he was feeling dizzy or nauseated. He wasn’t, he said. then on being asked, he provided the address, but was hesitant to provide the phone number as he did not want to shock his parents, and also because his father was not well and had slept quite late the previous night. But in about fifteen minutes of his head being stitched up under local anesthesia, he threw up. The Doctor was strict now about the phone number and said that because of his throwing up, he would need to be under observation for at least a day.
“Oh no! I cannot stay here – I have a play in the evening!” But he had a feeling that he had lost the chance he had thanked God for, just last night. The angel, stayed there till his parents came. “Thank you” was all he could say to express his gratitude. His mother, as expected, when she saw him, had tears welling up the corners of her eyes, but fought hard to hold them back successfully. Slowly some more of his family members started showing up, and he heard that the bus driver was also caught. His father decided not to take an action saying “My son is safe, that’s all I want. Just let the driver go with a strict notice to drive more carefully.”
His mother said something that day that he was to remember forever. “Beta (-son), I am sure that with so much of sugar stuffed in your head, you would have sweet thoughts all your life.”
Then, out of the blue, his whole Theatre Group turned up. He said he was sorry that he could not be there – and showed his anxiety as to how would they manage. He also thought that God had punished him for playing the prank on Ashish. They reprimanded him for thinking like that and that he should just take rest. Though they tried hard, they couldn’t convince him that all will be well. She also came by the noon – the one he had started to like, and had tears in those big, doe-like eyes.
Suddenly, to everyone’s shock, and amusement, he started to laugh loudly. They were also worried if he was hallucinating with a head stitched and bandaged, and because he was also on a drip. Naturally, being both worried, and curious, they asked him why was he laughing?
“You know what guys”, he said, in between laughs, “I think I am right now the best suited person for doing the show completely by myself with my head being emptied of so much blood.”
And why is that so, they asked.
“The name, my friends, the name! Do you remember the name of our play?”
After a seconds silence, they screamed together “Damn! It’s ‘The Empty Mind’! Ha!Ha!Ha!”
4th August, 2000 | 23:20 – 23:40
On the morning the day the play was to be staged, he rushed for a final practice, lost and excited, thinking about the play, and if this was the right time to propose to someone he had come to like a lot.
That was the sound he would remember forever.
While coming down a slope, lost as he was, he did not notice the bus that overtook him. The bus had applied sudden brakes, and his head had banged against the rear of the bus.
“Damn!” he said as he felt something trickle down his forehead, and he saw drops of blood dripping continuously. Still in his senses, he bent to pick up his bag and cycle. Out of nowhere, a few strong arms grabbed him and pulled him to the side of the road, as he saw one carry his bag and cycle next to him. These were some angels of God who stayed in a slum nearby the road who made him sit down. One shouted “Get some water”, other shouted “Get some cloth too!”
There was a lady passing by – perhaps going to the office. She came over and asked someone to get sugar and apply so as to quicken the clotting process. One suggested that he be taken to the closest hospital, one offered to fetch a rickshaw, and yet another offered to carry his cycle and bag to the Hospital.
As he was being carried to the Hospital on the rickshaw, he was again lost in thoughts. Only this time around, they were a bit different – and funny.
Also refer to The Day’s Done..
4th August, 2000 | 21:00 – 21:30
The practice venue was the house of the lecturer that had a decent size hall for practicing. On the first day, they were introduced to seven professional theatre artistes under whose guidance they were to get trained. They discussed what are the thoughts, and what timings would suit for the practice sessions. It was decided that for the next two months, they would spend two hours daily after the MA Classes.
The group had both girls and boys, and as theatre requires artistes to overcome their feelings of personal boundaries and to accept their co-artistes as someone who’s very close, the first few days all they did was to meditate, exercise, dance, and do normal chit chat with other, with each of them being asked to talk about themselves to the group to identify their talent. Somewhere in between, the creation of the script started in the background along with the story, and improvisation of dialogues, stage settings, etc.
Besides acting, as he was also interested in writing and music, he was entrusted with the additional responsibility of writing a parody and controlling the Casio – when he wasn’t required on the stage.
As happens, however, at times it was felt that the preparations are not going well enough, sometimes the seniors got strict, and the younger ones ended up crying – but the sessions went on. There were moments of frustration, as also laughter and pranks.
One day, his friend (Ashish) placed a bet saying he wasn’t as good an actor as Ashish. He said how can he prove otherwise? As they had not yet reached the venue, it was decided that he had to do something to make all of them come rushing out of the house in terror. He asked Ashish to wait on the roadside with the bike. As the house was a bit inside the lane, he ran as fast as he could for a distance, then bent down and applied some dust on his jeans and hands, elbows etc., and then ran as fast again. Panting, he told the others that there’s been an accident, and Ashish needs help. There was shock and most ran out screaming.
Of course he got scolded quite a bit later on – but he had proved his skills.
Two months were over soon before they realized, and the public performance was looming in front. They had planned to run two shows on the first day, and three more the following day. They had a complete dress rehearsal till late evening on the day before the performance.
As he pedaled homewards on his bicycle in the moonlit night, his only thought as he smiled was “Thank You God for this opportunity – I will have at least done one theatre performance in my life”.
to be continued…
4th August, 2000 | 20:00 – 20:20
He was one of the rare few to go for Masters in English, moving from a Bachelors in Commerce. That he found himself in a totally new environment when he joined the Deptt. of English would be stating the obvious. However, the whole change in the atmosphere came as a very pleasant surprise for him.
He had never imagined that in a University infamous for its hooliganism, scuffles between students, between students and police, and between all and sundry, there could also exist such a peaceful and motivating department. It was like a Lotus in a dirty pond.
It being his basic nature (- and in this case, luck too), he was soon introduced to a gang of friends. Very soon, he was part of thirteen great people – three being guys. The two years were a roller coaster ride – with a difference. They all were immersed in literary knowledge being imparted by knowledgeable teachers. They fell from the Heavens with Milton, shared their indecisiveness with Hamlet, and raped the curly locks of Belinda – while enjoying the Canterbury Tales of Chaucer on a long journey of joyous company – sharing each others sorrows, love, jokes and above all, lunch boxes on the stairs. Can you visualize them?
Each person in the group was talented in their own unique ways and had their own manner of displaying emotions, practicality, naivety, and approach. A fine morning, one of their lecturers informed that she was a part of a Theatre Group called ART and that she needed a few actors for an upcoming play. Up shot the arms of four of the thirteen, him included. The meeting place, timing etc. was discussed, and they were excited beyond words.
to be continued…
The next set of thoughts were penned in a style that reflects a change.
I had joined my first night-shift job while pursuing MA English in December, ’99 at City Montessori School, Lucknow as an Assistant Editor, under the mentorship of Mr. Jagdish Gandhi.
1st September, 1999 | 7:22 – 7:30
(In response to a list of words for improving vocabulary published in Times Of India)
Though you may find the description of India, given below, sardonic, I’ve tried to make it as glib as possible and feel that I deserve impunity for the plagiarisation of your suggested words.
India, a country echoing once with the sublime shlokas of pundits, has become a nation of the desultrous mumblings of the acrimonious, irascible plebian. The reason – the didactic dogmas of the hypocritical bureaucracy.
23rd June, 1997
I’m a Sagittarian, a person who lives his life as it comes along, worries about everything – yet almost nothing. Of all the wonderful experiences I’ve had, and all the beautiful people that I’ve met, she was the one I’ll never forget till my last breath.
Her sun sign? – a Saggi, of course!
We were two adolescents in love, but yet, were almost like children. She had the most beautiful features and face that I’d ever seen – till I saw her. We were almost immediately attracted towards each other, the day our eyes first met. I remember the day in 1992 when she had come with her mother, who had rather ferocious looks. A sharp contrast to her innocent looks. The good news was that she was going to stay with us for quite some time – and boy, was I happy!
The first few days passed off without any special incident. We used to have our food together, and that I had started developing an intense liking for everything she said, or did. She had a very graceful, feminine walk, and still maintained a royal stance when she sat or stood. She had a great capacity of expressing her feelings without using words – she just had to use her eyes, and the message got through to me. And when she looked at me out of the corner of her eyes, it raised my spirits to unknown, dizzying heights.
In a few days time, we developed a very close bond with each other. I shared my innermost secrets with her, and she kept my trust alive by never disclosing them to anyone. She was the most understanding friend I’ve ever had. Whenever I was upset, she could understand it, and then sit beside me for hours consoling me, making me feel better. We used to play, walk, talk, even dance together. Our love was becoming quite obvious and it didn’t take long for my parents to discover it – thankfully, they accepted our relationship as it was.
Many a times we were left alone in the house as my parents had to attend to their respective chores, and respecting their faith in our relationship, we never crossed our limits. It was only to the extent that I used to caress her and kiss her forehead, and she planted pecks on my cheeks time and again. She used to lie down on my arms, close to me, and sleep, while I gently ran my fingers through her hair. She looked so contended, beautiful, and peaceful while sleeping that I could never move my arms lest it woke her up.
Then, on that fateful day in October 1995, news came that her mother had expired. Unable to bear the shock, she fell seriously ill and stopped eating anything, despite all our efforts. Her condition too worsened day by day, and she had to be put on a drip, but to no avail. One day, while I was awake, she fell into a deep slumber. Never to wake up again.
Even today my eyes get moist, and have still not come out of the sorrow. She left a void in my heart that can never be filled by anyone else.
I still remember, and miss, my fair-as-snow, lovely, innocent spitz, Cuddly.