Read

Have you ever passed someone in the street and wondered, what if?

"Why do you keep wearing those pants?"

I draw in paperbacks while trying to decipher sub-plots

I am an actor. It is my job to pretend. I work in films, chiefly action pictures. I never get to play the hero. I generally play the best friend or the assistant. But what keeps me going is the fighting. I know its all playacting, that we never hurt anyone. But engaging other men in combat is very exciting. At least to me. I had never meant to be an actor. In fact I studied Chemistry in university though I liked Physics better. Well, I did not get a degree. The truth is that I dropped out. I fell into bad company too. But then someone told me that Mr Yash Chopra, the famous director was casting for his new love story. A voice from inside told me that I would be selected to be hero. So, I went and auditioned. I did not get the part. But, I began visiting studios more often thereafter. My first job was as assistant director. Ten years have passed since then. I am a well known actor today though films don't sell on my name. But I am making ends meet. I have a pretty wife and a young son. I have just bought a house by the seafront. Well, things are nice for me. At the moment. But we were not so fortunate before. We, meaning my late mother and myself. My mother was very pretty. That explains my good looks. Nevertheless, my beautiful mother came from a very poor family. By the time she was sixteen her folks were nearly starving. So she was taken to a movie studio. She was shown to every director in town. I use the word 'shown' because that is what generally happens in these cases. One particular director, a young, talented man agreed to cast mom. His film did average business only. But then, something happened. This director, Mr Roger Sen, was from a wealthy family. For him, directing films was more of a pastime than a means of earning money. After mom's film released Mr Sen made a proposal to my maternal grandfather. Mr Sen would pay my mom's family a certain amount of money every month. In return for this mom would become his kept woman. His mistress. Yes, you have guessed right. Mr Roger Sen is indeed my biological father. I was born in the late seventies. When I was three years old my father got married. Not to my mother mind you. But to the beautiful, rich girl his parents had chosen for him. The news of my father's wedding came out in all prominent newspapers along with glossy photographs of the couple. I still remember how my mother had fainted on seeing the news and the photograph. Before his marriage papa would come every alternate day. Then, it became every Sunday. Then, once every month. Whatever it was, the money never stopped coming. On the first of each month, papa's Man Friday Dokin would arrive at the door with an envelope containing ten thousand pounds. By then mom's parents were dead and her sisters married and settled. Dokin would always stay for lunch which would be quite a sumptuous spread.

vibration is wall. They had tribe tenacity light high giant unclaimed

I dreamt a dog was walking a tight rope. I followed it and found a boy made up like a conductor. He had a lovely Scottish accent, not the scrating sort but trapped like a frog or a bat, or a cricket.

It was complicated, And I was happy. It was messy, And I was happy. It was absurd, And I was happy... it was wrong... but...didn't I say it before? I was happy. I don't really know where to start. Is it appropriate to start with the disasters or the miracles? Is it safe to let people know exactly who you are? Or do you just omit the bad stuff and let the good stuff be. It was the year that India was blessed with its billionth baby, Aastha. We had been ushered into a new century. And here I was, wishing I would be blessed with my own little miracle.

An old speed poem which apparently has an episode of sex and the city which is very similar. this horrifies me as I hate sex and the city. a poem is a poem is a poem.

Well, we have an answer folks. If only we can get Mr. Gates to invesitgate it, develop it further, and come up with a nice neat, tiny version of it.