Life's bloody strange ye know. I came across certain mails from sometime around 2005 -- and then I saw a picture that pieced everything. I was young then or I guess you could say younger. Confused, impressionable and all those things that you do out then to make you feel like a fool in years, perhaps centuries to come.
I feel 30, but that's because I've been on these nocturnal shifts since the last 6 days and my mind's a frying pan.
But I'm revisited by a ghost. An emotional dragon fly. A fire that races along the sides of a mountain burning -- and I feel like a child of two with a mouthful of gin and lighter fuel.
Honestly it didn't make sense to me then. I couldn't reach the words, I lost the meaning, the sense and now everything boiled into unpleasant wounds. And when it pieced together. The picture was of Dorian Gray and I Dorian standing in front of ugliness of self.

Rolling Stones' Dead Flowers is perhaps one of the those songs that can pull you even if you're sinkin in a pool of depression and slit wrists. Not only that -- the covers I've heard of it are brilliant too.
But well that apart -- I ask myself the question, that I always manage to ask myself every couple of days. So what's it going to be then, eh?
Well first of all nothing. Everything is so brilliant pissing off, that if I began to tell you. You'd probably have a couple of extra tears kept aside for the news of my funeral. (Send me dead flowers.)
And so well a seven day long night shift is hellish -- and it continues. It's as I've been telling people -- like doing solitary in jail or working for seven straight Sundays all lined in a week. And somehow it burns every remote inspiration of daylight and life from you. I don't care or I shouldn't care.
But then again I wouldn't talk about that. I crip enough, and even though a good crib is tough to find these days. I suppose we'll skip to something else.
Something different...something I can remember and pull out this rabbit-out-of-a-hat story that would delight you my fellow brothers, sisters and lovers.
(Poof)

Headaches and dreams. Poison petals and slow soft decay of time. Dreams and drifters. Blind beggars and bent bowls. Prisoners and keys. No direction home. Wanderers, soapy smoke and songs. A feeling of love stuck in the asshole of longing. Chicken cheese burgers with coke. Television screens and editorial despair. Drills, afternoon window drapes and in the beginning there was chaos. Golden prisms and lips. The forest burning. Death of winter. Soft sleep and plunged darkness. A room with no view. Coffee, cigarettes, and cafes.

I once had a girl, or should I say she once had me.

It's sometime past 4 in the morning. I don't really care about anything. Not even you. You who I write for. You who I don't even know who you are. It's perhaps the smoke that's still somewhere lit in me. It's perhaps that wine I drank a few hours ago. Or perhaps those eyes whose sense I'm incapable of.
It's perhaps the biggest murder mystery of our times -- and for once we're sure of the killers but not of the dead. The dead roam among us.
My beatnik drivel, filled with Dickens gloom and everything but a Beckettian tragedy. It could've turned. The morning bare. Reason marooned on an island of despair. And what words -- and words that sleep with time. Nothing but sexual.
The human mind stapled on a chart. With every thought painted as a dark storm. With every emotion red with strawberry love. With every charcoal sketch of silver spoons and a sheesha of angry yellow cloud.
The war of seven swords. The one-eyed wizard, the naked witch, the talking cat -- dancing in the enchanted woods. What makes sense, what possibly could.
I'm here. You're there. Everything cleared from the mist to the crumpled sheets. The favourite sin and it's constant exorcism.
The faraway tree. The land of no return. Childhood. Wishing chair. Gnomes. Fairies. Mr Pink Whistle. Believed and torn. Like a weaver of an ancient carpet myth-smith.
I lie. To lie with everyone. And we cry blood.

The only reason why I like movies more than life is it's got music. Now good movies have good music -- whereas good or bad life, doesnt havy any. Well unless you put on your iPod and listen to something, the minute something happens.
A good soundtrack is everything -- a song that will reflect the bloody mood of the moment. Now one of my favourite soundtrack movie is Forrest Gump. Now here's a movie that reflects the 60s in the quirkiest way -- but with some of the best songs of the era. Even for that matter -- the Big Lewboski, a lesser known film but a cult among us low on life sorts.
Sometime most of our best movies depends on the good numbers. Take for instance a movie like when harry Met sally (now that's not even on any list of mine) but I still remember, that they walk into to thos bistro of sorts and a great Allman Brother's Ramblin' Man starts to play.
Or for that matter Pulp Fiction, that eternally defying moment when John Travolta and Uma Thurman are dancing to Neil Diamond's Girl You'll Be a Woman Soon.
The reason why I liked The Graduate was for the Simon and Garfunkel bit. Or that mind-effing bit in Apocalypse Now, when Martin Sheen's going to kill Marlon Brando and the last refrains of The End starts playing.
Martin Scorcese is a genius. We all know that. Whoever doesn't should leave the room. But his movies have got some of the best songs. In The Departed it self, the Gimme Shelter in the start is numbing. Marty pays the best tributes. His new movies on Stones is going to be out soon. (But we're not talking about music band-films).
In Vanilla Sky, the version of Dylan's Fourth Time Around is a favourite, have you heard it? The ending of The Devil's Advocate when Paint it Black plays or when Interview with the Vampire is ended with Lestat jumpin into Louis' car and says listen to this: and credits start to roll and Sympathy for the Devil booms.
We all have movies that play tracks taht gives us in. You see Trainspotting introduced me to Lou Reed and Iggy Pop.
Next time you watch a good movie, and you remember a good song. Let me know.

Dude, you must watch My name is earl. I'm a little slow on things when it comes to tv and popular culture. But recently I came across these tv series, and it's totally cool. (What's happened to the way I speak?) I'm the kind of guy whose in for good humour, ye know what I mean?
When the first season was on, I used to watch Desperate Housewives, but after it got over, I realised how loser-ish it was all. There was no humour in it, see what I mean? But I used to like the narration. But then family drama has never been my main stay, and I guess not even desperate middle-aged housewives for that matter.
Well the thing with My name is earl is that I like the way Earl (jason Lee) speaks. It's all very southern, and Skynard is a name you get to here often. But the music is cool -- you hear a lot of stones, ccr and sometimes guess who and the who.
But I've just watched the second season...and there's the third season that's left.
The creator of Yes Dear, Greg Garcia, is the guy who started it.
I liked Friends but then I grew out of it, it's like you name the season and everyone knows the jokes who cracked and why. Frazier was bloody cool, like a play set. South Park is eternal. But then I've never managed to be a tv person. If I get the entire season I sort of like it.
Wonder Years was a favourite when I was a good kid. Small Wonder sucked after a bit. Somewhile back The Dude showed me Firefly, from which the movie Serenity is based. I quite liked it. It's got a pretty intense look at things.
Wiki tells me that My name is earl's soundtrack includes: "The show is unusual among sitcoms not only for its lack of a laugh track, but also for its soundtrack. The music on the show includes bands as widely varied as Wings, Queen, Styx, Rush, Metallica, Thin Lizzy, The Band, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Blue Öyster Cult, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Buckethead, The Who, Lynyrd Skynyrd,Young MC, Jerry Reed, The Steepwater Band, Nick Drake, Eric Clapton, Guns N' Roses, Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young, The Cardigans, Nancy Sinatra, Cyndi Lauper, AC/DC, Jet, Cat Stevens, Ted Nugent, Santana, The Dillinger Escape Plan, The Ozark Mountain Daredevils,The Doors, The Wiggles, Dire Straits, REM, Canned Heat, Bob Marley, ELO, Joni Mitchell, Los Lobos, Social Distortion,The Ramones, and Beastie Boys, nicolae guta and other such manelari as well as a blues underscore by composers Mark Leggett and Danny Lux. A lot of the soundtrack was replaced with generic background music in the DVD, likely for copyright reasons. An often featured song in the series is Hair of the Dog by Nazareth. The Animals have been featured repeatedly in the 3rd season."
Now that's cool.

There're a lot of things a man's got to do. But when your work holds you...by your intestines. Everything starts to fall in a mess. No lying man. I've been on a low. A good low. Things have turned out quite disappointed on the professional front.
I don't care about love. But as much as I'd like to believe it's all quite bullish --I've been tryin my best not to fall there. The trouble is, it's quite easy ye know. But let's not get in there. OK, I think you face a lot of trouble here -- you perhaps think that I'm not that honest enough.
The truth is that sometimes emotions start flashing. Now I'd like to believe that I'm pretty much not that preturbed about such stuff. But then the lonliness kicks in. But more than that -- a strange feeling is opening. Now since I usually know what a good feeling tells me -- I know it's better to kill it before I smudge more unhappiness. I got plenty to worry about.
Work for instance. They've actually got me to that lifeless point -- they can't kill me. I have no life. In case you wonder where this pretty cool line has come from. Well I'm the genius behind. I'm the genius who watched South Park, and I'm telling you. Oh well, I can see the meter running. So I guess you read. My commentators are pretty quiet these days...I guess they're pissed cause i don't pitch my comments on there's. Or maybe this is just a slack time of the year.
Oh well that your problem.

A good friend of mine Dead Flowers (he's on my blogroll) passed me this one song Heaven by Talking Heads. Go listen to it!

After working on a night shift for four days, counting this one that I'm on. With the foresight of the one tonight. I can say that I'm royally screwed. I feel it in my system making a funny sound. I feel like pulling my brains out and trample on them. But fug it.
------------------------------------
The point is that there really isn't any. I am Josef K, I'm Holden Caulfield, I'm Winston Smith, I'm Jimmy Porter, I'm Gregor Samsa, I'm Meursault -- I'm Dr Filth. And I shouldn't be making sense to you -- but I suppose even you don't to me. Isn't it all so wonderfully clear now.

Well I feel like writing. That's why I'm visiting here again. You must be wondering why I'm writing, right? Are you? You must, and you really must. For the first time in my life, I looked carefully at my counter. I had 11 views from last night -- I felt thrilled though. Now I know that with all respect and rubbish, for a blogger (I can be called one right? or am I not that political for you?) whose been around -- it sucks. But I'd like to believe that it was lazy winter Sunday...there was match that was won, people were drawn to beer and gin-tonic, and all those terrible things that people do when they don't particularly have work.
There might be some truth in it, there has to. Lord, I'm on a night shift. Have you been on one? Answer me, dear lord. No don't -- God's got good godly (check out the alliteration) timings.
Night shifts are weird. And I know this -- if you look at the Big Surd he looks it. but before I crip -- I would remind my dear readers that I'm not a call centre maniac. I'm a journalist. Although there's much difference -- there are lots of computers, phones here besides people always curse you.
But the shift is from 11 pm to 8 am -- and somewhere around 4 -- well I am new to the shifts -- that my spine's like rubber, and head floats like balloons. But things get around -- they usually do. And there's always a morning.

Heard about Dr(?) Amit Kumar? Amusing. A year back the papers were talking about something similar: Moninder Singh Pandher and Surender Koli, an employer and a servant, which killed children and women; raped them, ate them, and after all that, cut them and left them in drains. This was the Nithari episode. And now the shift is on to a kidney racket, where a doctor and a team of his associates, duped people into kidney trafficking.
There's no end to deaths, rapes and murders in our lives. I remember there was a huge racket on the national highway 8, somewhile back. (For those who don't know, the NH8, seprates, Gurgaon and Delhi.) And a road that played a huge emphasis on making my life miserable at one major point.
Now people shifting between the two cities know that apart from buses, a huge number of people depend on cabs to hitch rides. These cabs are sometimes actually cabs, or BPO cars, which mint the extra buck by picking people and dropping them, on their rounds.
The whole racket opened up when the police caught a gang, alse around last year, that would kill people, look through their pockets, and throw their bodies out in the middle of the roads. When the police caught the gang, the gang actually confessed that they had lost count of the lives they had taken. From 20 bucks to 100 -- they would first kill and then know what loot they got.

Don't ask. Things aren't getting any better. It's the same drill; now the monkey march has new masks. And I'm having this terrible thrill, that somewhere it'll end. It'll perhaps burst, and then there will be a million dragonflies of hope. It doesn't make sense. It shouldn't really, it was never meant to, if you ask again. And I've just come to come to think of it...it really doesn't.
\I believe, or I'd like to beileve, or maybe I just like think that I believe. As long as you think. We are actually seperated by seperated screens, and I with the sheer joy of writing in complete oblivion of sense -- and all the song and the dance -- and there you. The river laughter, the soft murmuring of trees and yellow skies... was it in paintings of Van Gogh or just ice creams. It makes sense, if you'd believe in anything. And I suppose we believe in more things than things we don't believe in. It's mathematics and nuclear combusion -- and a urinal. Pure mess. Extreme death, whatever catches your fancy. Whatever must, really. I just feel like spilling words and more words, and I'd just think that you like to keep reading. If you aren't then you must, and if you are then nothing changes.
I shouldn't have blamed the playwright for loss of faith last evening. It was brilliant, there was a good friend doing a darn good job. A sweet-shrill voiced girl doing a neat role, and everything followed. But it was the wine that I whined. Besides it was cold, and a no smokes. No really. I critiqued his play. To my mind, which struggled to find some coherence to this very incoherent settings.
But it was a good play -- after the play there was wine. But at the end, I guess I figured again as I met some peole that it's a bloody small world. It really is, however much I'd hate pulling that six degrees and that small (third?) world wonder to you -- it really is.
But that's not the point if you ask me why I write this, and like this. I don't think I have any good reason. I write and you read. Someone must get paid, someone really must -- and I'm here.

I usually don't forward or read much into forwards. But this is crazy if it's true.

RESUME

EDUCATION /Qualification:
1950:Stood first in BA (Hons), Economics, Punjab University, Chandigarh,
1952; Stood first in MA (Economics), Punjab University, Chandigarh,
1954; Wright's Prize for distinguished performance at St John's College,Cambridge,
1955 and 1957; Wren Bury scholar, University of Cambridge,
1957; DPhil (Oxford), DLitt (Honors Causa); PhD thesis on India's export competitiveness

OCCUPATION /Teaching Experience:
Professor (Senior lecturer, Economics, 1957-59;
Reader, Economics,
1959-63;
Professor, Economics, Punjab University, Chandigarh, 1963-65; Professor,
International Trade, Delhi School of Economics,University of Delhi,
1969-71; Honorary professor, Jawaharlal Nehru University,New Delhi,
1976 and Delhi School of Economics, University of Delhi,1996 and Civil Servant

Working Experience/ POSITIONS:
1971-72: Economic advisor, ministry of foreign trade
1972-76: Chief economic advisor, ministry of finance
1976-80: Director, Reserve Bank of India; Director, Industrial Development Bank of India;
Alternate governor for India, Board of governors, Asian Development Bank;
Alternate governor for India, Board of governors, IBRD
November 1976 - April 1980: Secretary, ministry of finance (Department of economic affairs);
Member, finance, Atomic Energy Commission; Member,finance, Space Commission
April 1980 - September 15, 1982: Member-secretary, Planning Commission
1980-83: Chairman, India Committee of the Indo-Japan joint study committee
September 16, 1982 - January 14, 1985: Governor, Reserve Bank of India.
1982-85: Alternate Governor for India, Board of governors, International Monetary Fund
1983-84: Member, economic advisory council to the Prime Minister
1985: President, Indian Economic Association
January 15, 1985 - July 31, 1987: Deputy Chairman, Planning Commission
August 1, 1987 - November 10, 1990: Secretary-general and commissioner, south commission, Geneva
December 10, 1990 - March 14, 1991: Advisor to the Prime Minister on economic affairs
March 15, 1991 - June 20, 1991: Chairman, UGC
June 21, 1991 - May 15, 1996: Union finance minister
October 1991: Elected to Rajya Sabha from Assam on Congress ticket
June 1995: Re-elected to Rajya Sabha
1996 onwards: Member, Consultative Committee for the ministry of finance
August 1, 1996 - December 4, 1997: Chairman, Parliamentary standing committee on commerce
March 21, 1998 onwards: Leader of the Opposition, Rajya Sabha
June 5, 1998 onwards: Member, committee on finance
August 13, 1998 onwards: Member, committee on Rules
Aug 1998-2001: Member, committee of privileges 2000 onwards: Member, executive committee, Indian parliamentary group
June 2001: Re-elected to Rajya Sabha
Aug 2001 onwards: Member, general purposes committee

BOOKS:
India's Export Trends and Prospects for Self-Sustained Growth -Clarendon
Press, Oxford University, 1964; also published a large number of
Articles in various economic journals.

OTHER ACCOMPLISHMENTS:
Adam Smith Prize, University of Cambridge, 1956
Padma Vibhushan, 1987
Euro money Award, Finance Minister of the Year, 1993;
Asia money Award, Finance Minister of the Year for Asia, 1993 and 1994

INTERNATIONAL ASSIGNMENTS:
1966: Economic Affairs Officer
1966-69: Chief, financing for trade section, UNCTAD
1972-74: Deputy for India in IMF Committee of Twenty on International Monetary Reform
1977-79: Indian delegation to Aid-India Consortium Meetings
1980-82: Indo-Soviet joint planning group meeting
1982: Indo-Soviet monitoring group meeting
1993: Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting Cyprus 1993: Human Rights World Conference, Vienna

RECREATION:
Gymkhana Club, New Delhi; Life Member, India International Centre, New Delhi
Name: Dr. Manmohan Singh
DOB:September 26, 1932
Place of Birth: Gah (West Punjab)
Father: S. Gurmukh Singh
Mother: Mrs Amrit Kaur
Married on: September 14, 1958
Wife: Mrs Gursharan Kaur
Children: Three daughters

(Our Prime Minister is perhaps the most qualified PM all over the world.)