FUNKY PEN

Economic crises are too many in the country of plenty. Love and hate walk together in the country of yore. Citadels bow down in serenity in the country of culture. Bending back is difficult on a backwards bending supply curve. Rates of growth often defy the polynomial theories. Somewhere else ….. Greens of corn grow undisturbed in the golden sowed fields, Love burns the lanterns of satisfaction in the unheard of villages of interior India. Its glow fuels the deepest quest for village successes……………………………. I board a fly of desire in the cleanest California, where not a leaf is out of place and not a fig is out of turn, I board a helicopter of fake success and fly low in the hideous city of Mecca Medina. I never believe in the god who gives nothing but a foolish life to all humans and then enjoys their struggles from his cloud side abode. Fluffy and rocklike his demeanor is nothing but shanty…..

How does it feel when you gnaw out that string that's hanging alongside your trousers? How does it feel when you finally move into the sunshine away from a twister ? How does it feel when you light a body taking it to its final journey ? Purified, uplifted, bond-less and very very sad.... This is the definition of true freedom... A spirit which engulfs you with the shadows of sorrow, a mist which surrounds you with the life of tomorrow, true love surmises and shadows surprises......

Sarkar Raj: a story of power plants, a story of the bewildered Aishwarya Rai caught in no man's land and the story of the elimination of his sons to fuel the ego of Sarkar, Shame, cowardice, ploy, evil and dark desire complexed into single script, A first half that shows a fiery son undertake the many perils that come his way to help his township progress, an evil coated second half which sees him eliminated by the very forces that vow to help him, A tragic story of love untold, and at the end a desperate move by Sarkar to grab his third son and the only one alive to take over his reign and ensure his prosperity, Never has one seen such a father that consumes his children whole for the sake of his continued grandeur, never has one seen such a film which displays the shocking naked truth of life, That in end we live only for ourselves, Amen...

Waiting for the night to be through, Waiting for morning to dawne, Waiting for dew to moist, Waiting for the sun to hold on, Waiting for shadows to shape the destiny of my soul, Waiting for your footsteps to fail,waiting for the vacuum of it whole Waiting for the lesson learnt Waiting for the clock that struck Checking the dam that overflowed Meeting the bridge of hope untold Whitening the errors I made along Singing the spiritless song of mourn Matchless seas of sorrow build, Worthless tears of salt distilled, Have won nor lost this childish game, Green blades of envy prick me to pain The grass is greener on the other side I learnt, Move on the mind says, compass unturned

So many people say marketing is required less in b2b than b2c..... really ? read on, The way people say marketing in b2b is different from marketing in b2c, is really the ignorance of the true meaning of the word "marketing " A true marketing guy would never say there is a difference in marketing, he would say the integrated marketing tools differ, but marketing naah never.... Ever since the stone age, people have believed make up makes you look better and I seriously agree wether its soap, detergents, Pepsi or servers(check out how IBM sells its servers- the earnest is really unparalleled), it makes sense to beautify your product and make it attractive for others to buy, wether b2b or b2c the logic stays, and people who think subtle is in are highly mistaken, as its not subtle its none at all, and that is a huge disaster, An example is the first PSO IT company to embrace serious integrated marketing communications efforts, and providing its customers with a solid value pr

I live through you, now Sputter and die... like the engine of the old Kawasaki, Illegible- like the Mughal Parchment, Knotted and gnarled, like the childhood banyan, Stained with disease, like the leaking ink pen I left I watch his movement with my playful eye, He spins shapes out of dirty clay. I remember the magician, I was myself, Years back, spotty and dirty. Ready for game..... His reflexes, much quicker than mine, His arms, much slicker than mine. His body- lithe, like the forest panther, His mind- an instrument capable of the most lethal demolition. I live through him now, I breathe his air. His spirit, lifts me from my chair.

I go on, Like leaves I fall, in the feeble autumn. Like comets I die, in the darkened spicy sky. Like sand, I escape your palms. But like day, I return...... Like sunshine I bask.............. Like ink I stain........... I am the sails, I bend ways, I am the anchor, I take root, I am the mask, I change color, I am the walking stick, I support. I am a dead man, not his burial. I am a devil, not his intent You never can end me, I am the spirit which glows in you and me, The spirit alive, in death, deface, sorrow and the morrow....

Death is reborn- an dialogue between you and me, when you are no more. I: I’ll be with you, till your last journey. You’re on your own after that..... You: I’ll be with you in form after that; I’ll be the crinkle in your sheets. I’ll be the indomitable shadow behind you, whispering to you........ Nestling you after that..... I: Alone you will go, the way you came in this world, prostrate on white.... We will carry you to your creator; we will support you, because you can not walk, like the way you came in, an infant child......prostrate on white..... You: I’ll be your foresight, I’ll be the lesson you never learnt, I’ll be there for you, when you remember or don’t, I: I will never miss you, as you are inside me, alone in your journey, but right beside me......... There won’t be a void in my heart, the place where you resided, now will a-flower, with the ocean of love we made.... So, Goodnight my friend, sleep well, for my mornings, they’ll call you again........... Let there be no ceme