You and I

are different space

there are different battles to fight.

the first time I smell your blood

will stab you through the night

the night above is cold and dark

You and I need to wait for the sun

we have different battles to fight

THe KING

We have all been in their mercy

We all hail the king.

We had seen them in red and saffron

Seen them behold our king.

We were born to listen.

the king is a fool, the king is so high

behold our king.

Our brothers in red and saffron come down to drape us in their colour

Or rape us.

I feel....a gun...., I felt it before

Silenced by the wind

Let us behold our king.

There has been raging murmur
that there is
nothing called truth.
You and I can change tomorrow
for you and I are through.
There has been a raging murmur
that we never betray
it was only another way
another world to portray.
There has been a raging murmur
that there was not a drop of blood
the race of the fittest,who got and who did
not.
There has been araging murmur that you had never cried.
you wanted it ,you wanted it all through the night.

For various resons i had lost touch with my once addiction and earlier provocation.After a lot of wars, battles and stories ,tried to get back to this sport.The new thing which i had to face(which i refuse to call cricket.) was something which we had earlier joked about ,seen in our nightmares,sometimes wished a setup like in some other planet for players like Afridi.Now i definitely wouldn't mind cheerleaders as a bowler but for God's sake the batsman is a man.I wonder how they would cheer the individuals playing the feamale version of the game or wether they have been at all taken into consideration. Well on another note India is getting over the colonial hangover,the nationalist pangs(people I dont suppose feel like killing Javed Miandad anymore)to enter into a neo colonial setup.Globalisation seems to be washing away the natioanlist sentiments ,it must to create its ground or use the same if it serves its purpose.A huge wave of depoliticization has just begun.With the apparent pretext of development what else is coming up remains to be seen but though can be vaguely foeseen.incoherent .incoherence.

Maths and the bengali middle class seem to have libidinous attachment .social humiliation that

is invited with leaving maths is close

to the agonising levels if not equal to being a female wirh a dark complexion.(o onkota mo0ne hoy bhalo pare na)( meyeta bujhle forsha noy).The great parameter of social respect and acceptance is introduced to the toddler and often surmounted by a double tuition a few years later.double tuition=barir sir +coaching sir.I wonder what Pythagoras or Euclid did at this age.On a largely looming threat to the student community the subject seems yet everyday to be increasingly gaining space as a social parameter. My first hand experience of what terror it could be like was the maths honours question of my poor little friend who once floated in clouds nine and ten to have been the chosen one ,the one who knew maths.Well and the rest as they say is history.Popular belief :maths is required to prove laws of nature.Fact:laws ,nature and proof are all ambiguous .Bad argument .argument still.

the essence of a marxist student front is essentially elitist.
feminism liberates does not bind.if it does do away with it.
i despise my education . ( it leads me to blog)(yuck)