Sunday, 30 November 2008

Our Experiments with Wordpress

Every one in the blogging world is talking about Wordpress, the new blog-engine. So the Musketeers also wanted to try this. When we saw wordpress and its cool tools and ease of posting , we were impressed. We urged, and were allowed by the Konfessioners to try wordpress for next few Klashes. Our continuance on wordpress, or return back to Blogspot will depend upon your reaction and the Konfessioners consent. We hope to hear from you in this respect.

Klash at WordPress is an effort by the Three Musketeers to ease their own plight at being thoroughly incompetent with the iconic blogger. This blog in no way dilutes the history of Klash. It merely attempts to add a new page to it.

This site is still in its experimental stage. So bugs and inaccuracies will prevail. Your patience is solicited.


Your suggestions/opinions as to whether klash should remain at blogger are precious to us. Leave us a line at

Thursday, 13 November 2008


[Entries Closed]


1. A covering for the eyes, mouth, or whole face. 2. Something that conceals or disguises something else, for example, true motives or feelings. 3. A representation of a face used as an ornament or decoration. 4. The face or facial markings of some animals, for example, foxes and raccoons. 5. A template used to control the pattern of conducting material deposited or etched onto a semiconductor chip. 6. A facial preparation used to tighten the skin and remove impurities, applied to the skin as a paste and allowed to dry before being removed. 7. A guard, often a sheet of paper, placed over areas of unexposed photographic film to stop light from hitting it. 

Genuine Fake (116)

Smile at the missed train and bus every morning when you want to give it all up – a new day has begun.
Enjoying silly jokes cracked by seniors at work when all you want to do is get back home – looking good for the next appraisal, honey.
Being delighted at the sight of your least favourite food, when you yearn for some spice -- tired ma gets her quantum of solace.
Allowing your kid to tug at you, even when you are asleep – C'est la vie.
Looking eye to eye in the mirror, and never regret ting your actions ever – Priceless.
There are few facades material can buy, for every other mask – there is the Mirror.

DokSaab (118)

I entered into his office hesitantly.
Dim-lit room….light music…huge paintings...
"Say, how can I help you, Miss?"
I sprang. Then I saw him sitting on the sofa.
Around sixty... bald… saintly face… kind, inspiring smile.
"Uncle, I was promised job after Dad's demise. It's been a year now."
"Oh so you are Shukla's daughter. Arey He was my classmate? Don't worry. I will see you get the job."
His crow feet eyes reminded me of my father. I felt like crying.
He embraced to console me.
I rested my head on his shoulder and wept.
His hug tightened.
Cold lips touched my neck.
Feeling uneasy, I tried to get away.
And then he took off his mask.

Juhi, the Fragrant (117)

The dimly lit room rang with laughing voices and flashy masks. Ritta's masquerade party was a success. Hanuman and Cleopatra were getting cozy in a corner, while a Kathakali dancer was showing her samba moves to a fan wielding Inuit. Zorro walked up to where Esmeralda and Pocahontas were sipping drinks, his eyes desperately searching.
"Where's Chandini?" he asked.
"Shantanu? You look sooooo handsome!" said Esmeralda.
"Yes. Wher…? Chandini? Wow! You are the most beautiful geisha I have ever seen." He said.
She smiled and leaning forward kissed him passionately, as she had never done.
When their lips parted, Shantanu couldn't resist. "I love you! Marry me, please?"
"Yes! Oh yes!" squealed Pallavi.
"Pallavi!?" he cried, "B..b…bu..but…whe…?

Nandini Sen (71)

He looked around at the mayhem – blood, gore, destruction. Suddenly the victory did not matter. Something stirred from deep within.
The carefully built mask of aggression, indifference, intoxication of victory was cracking. He felt vulnerable, and strangely very uplifted.
King Ashoka sank to his knees at the battle ground. At that moment, he literally heard the mask encasing his soul, break. His soul was bare, and was getting anointed with peace.

Rashmi Gupta (119)

Inside the innocuous cocoon,
Lies a torrent soul,
Battered to death in a shrinking abyss,
She asked herself, "Who is this, staring at me, through these dead eyes?"
She was left answerless.

"Mom, what are doing in my room??"
"Nothing beta, I just came to clean a bit…"
"And you don't read others things without asking!!"
"Beta, I was just… waise, you write pretty well!"
"Thanks, now, do you mind??"

Looking for answers, damning her doomed fate,
She cried for help.
Looking at her, the other laughed, loathed and scared the blood out of her tiny veins.
"The mask is me."
"I am the mask."

"20 years of marriage and today I come to know that you write too??"

Sweta Singh (118)   
The most grotesque mask today is worn by "society".
Incidents engineered to mask love :
A Gujrati man and a Rajput woman, to be married after 2years of convincing their families. The bride was tall, 60kgs, fair .The groom was a head shorter, darker, 40kgs. Bride's mother:
His mother chose my daughter! Its arranged!
[ you'll give your daughter to anybody?]
Never dated! They're just colleagues.
Rajput boy, Punjabi girl, "looks" scenario reversed.
Boy's mother :
The wedding was arranged...we were sitting ,making jokes and decided to go for it.
[decision of 7 lifetimes]
Masking what makes the world go around- makes the dizzying ride easier. What a shame that it has come down to this.

Mandappa KC (114)

"Whodunnit?" screamed the old man, jumping out of his rocking chair.
The usual kids were running, hollering and jumping around as usual. It was his afternoon routine. To sit in his rocking chair, looking out the front porch. It was his time. No one dared disturb him. Not even the nosy, pesky brats.
But that day, some one had lit a cracker behind his chair. Sending everyone into peals of laughter while sending his heart to his mouth. He screamed in anguish and then in anger.
Everyone giggled and looked around. It was quite the mystery and remained so until his dying day.
Meanwhile God sniggered behind his mask, sitting atop the mulberry bush.

Sowmya (120)

His beard itched while the suit was tight but Rohit drove faster towards the orphanage.

Santa Claus seemed such a stupid idea then, he reminisced. It was to promote his first big movie which ended up a blockbuster.
Three years and five flops later, on a frustrated impulse he visited the orphanage. He won three consecutive awards.
Thus began his Santa visits before every release. In every child's smile he saw fame, cash and awards. But Rohit remembered coming back feeling shallow, guilty and a strange emptiness.

Rohit reached to see Lakshman eagerly awaiting him.
"Thank you Dada. I am going to USA. I will be the best doctor. Promise."
A warm glow engulfed him. Santa's mask had stuck on.

Priyanka Chakraborty (102)

Rachel was torn apart with grief, as she entered the dazzlingly lit ball room, but looking at her, nobody could guess that. Nobody could know the emotional turmoil she was in, because her husband had hitched his ass off with his secretary that very afternoon. But she had to come. This party was essential for her acting career.

She wove her way through the room, chatting with the crème of the theatre and film industry, and charming them with her demeanor. Nobody doubted her. Nobody could see through to her heart. Everything about her seemed genuine to everyone, and she knew, her self-assured and content mask was in place.

Pratik Bubna (120)

I asked him why he wore that mask
He questioned back, "Why do you ask?"
"Some call me by this name, some by another
No one questions my actual identity, why do you bother?"

"I am the one they worship in one form,
I am the one they seek to end in another,
I am the one they haven't really seen,
Yet they define with different faces, my being!!"

They like their definition, concluding they are right,
To know the unknown face, without its sight,
When they don't bother, why do you?
why question the unquestioned, why seek something new?

He never lifts his mask yet many portray him still,
Does God have his own identity, his own free will?

Scribbler (107)


Eyes deceive and mirrors lie
They never reveal the true image that's hidden inside
Of people you think you know everything about
You sometimes think twice if you're wrong or right
And all that's in store is a big surprise
But one day for sure it'll unexpectedly strike
And before you know the truth will tear you apart
It can be right now, or just any other day
So be prepared to face it, 'cos it could be just any time
For this world's a maze where most are lost
With people all over the place living a fake life wearing a mask

Ruchika Bajoria (92)

Seeing the people walk around,
And the children play...
I remember how we lied at home;
And sat here all day.
Bunking college, avoiding friends...
We'd sneak back here
And watch the sunset.
We'd walk to church
And kneel to pray;
I'd thank Him for you,
And wish you'd never go away.

Its not the same anymore.
Unspoken words fill the air.
The tongues are resolutely mute;
Our eyes conduct a silent dispute.

Unsure of what's to be.
Unsure of voicing our real sentiments.
We sit alongside,
Wearing the mask of camaraderie.

Sarang Mahajan (120)

The Mask of Choro

Wind stirs the silent night
A dog shifts in the dustbin
“A deadly night,” says Choro
And pulls on his mask green

He steps out in the backyard
To stop a dirty crime
For the thieves all notorious
“This” is the right time

He lurks behind a barrel
Draws his long knife
And patiently awaits the villain
Risking dear life

At the devil’s hour
When the clock-arms huddle together
Choro hears the dreaded sound
Of the footsteps coming nearer

He springs like a thunderbolt
And brandishes his weapon
A rope cuts swiftly
A net catches the felon

“Long have I waited,’ says Choro
“Only to catch you”
The thief shrinks in net
And says, “Meow, meow.”

Pratik Kamani (253)

(Not up for kompetition)

Sitting on the worli sea face, a thousand lights behind me, a clear, lucid full moon felt more an ornamental bearing on the black canvas then the source of light to the very metropolitan I came to call my home.. the waves would placade the horizon with a numb innocence.. With every dying moment I felt the waves more and the girl beside me less.. it all seemed to tell me something beyond the sight, some sort of hidden message, and something made me think of Paulo Coehlo and his Alchemist. It was then at almost midnight of my birth day, that I was born again, I did see clearly and contently, It answered a lot of questions, it cleared a lot of thoughts, the million troubles hovering in my cerebrum about me, my dreams, my girl, my life and the fix all of us find ourselves at some time or the other,, what next? seemed to give answers to its own ciphers…. The answer was stark and beautiful.. amidst the waves I saw my dreams dying, but failed to see the waves coming back, the will to last.… with the moon, I saw its dying glory, but failed to see it everlasting spirit,, , its charisma yielding the absolute power, .. and most of all, how stupid I had been… I failed to see that single tear in my girls eye , masked behind that gratifying sweet smile … for me to rise again.. she wore the mask of hope….

Sunday, 19 October 2008


[ Entries Closed]

Ohkay everyone! This is VERY VERY VERY discouraging! This is our FIRST word in 4 months! And including me and my sister, we're all so VERY busy with everything else to do something which brings us all pleasure and satisfaction! This is NOT just a kompetition, its our voice! It's our channel of expression! Please do NOT let me assume that these few entries are all that we as a cult can come up with.



1)Great noise or excitement.

Rishi Ghan (113)

“Yes Sir Mr.Gatekeeper, I am God’s insurance agent”, said Mr.Portney, “And my viciousness lies in the fact that I insure God against your mistakes.”

“Excuse me?” Mr.Gatekeeper interjected.

“Yes, you make mistakes, just like the rest of us.”

“And by mistakes you must mean, not letting you in here?”

“That would be correct Mr. Gatekeeper.”

“In that case, Mr. Portney I assure you, my mistake is well compensated for, by ahem, God Himself. And He will surely acknowledge the fact that I did not allow you entry into Heaven. You clearly don’t belong here.”

“That is not for you to judge”

“Whats all the hullabaloo about” God thundered.

“Oh Mr.Gatekeeper’s been a bitch….”

Nandini Sen (108)

Chaos reigned supreme in the ashram. Swamiji was coming to give a lecture, and everything had to be in order. The sweeper was dusting up a storm, the florist and decorators were squabbling over nothing. Carpets were being laid, mikes being tested with the raucous “123 check” Curious devotees were already flocking in.

The hullabaloo was too much for Rambabu, the organizer. He tried to shut out the noise by retreating into another room, but the hullabaloo had seeped into every corner of the ashram.

He smiled and thought how ironic it was that Swamiji was coming to deliver a lecture on “The Importance of Silence in Life”.

Sowmya (120)

"What's this hullabaloo about?" The noise irritated Swati rushing to work.

"They are from that bankrupt financial company. Poor guys, losing their job in a flash! And it's not even their fault." Gayathri shuddered.

"Come on. It's just a job. Opportunities are available everywhere, one just has to look and be positive. Fortune favors the brave." Gayathri smiled indulgently at her colleague's zealous sermon.

An hour later, Swati's tears blurred the pink slip she clutched. "This is unfair! It's not our fault that crude prices are increasing and more people are travelling by trains now", she wailed.

The next day protest rally saw Swati screaming her lungs out. She instinctively turned to hear a passer-by remark, "what's this hullabaloo about?"

DokSaab (91)

The noise was deafening.

Doksaab, when will his fever subside,

Papa, you forgot to deposit my fee,

Boss, the meeting with the minister is at 4.

Beta, I need a pair of new glasses,

Yaar, aren't you coming to the party tonight?

Sir, the patient on bed 3 is serious.

Honey, you are late for dinner again.

I tried to close my eyes, and relax.

The sound grew even louder.








I sunk my head deeper into the pillow,

But the hullabaloo failed to die.

Sarang (110)

What’s this rackety hullabaloo?

I’ll say what I say, I’ll do what I do

You idiot morons, what’s it to you?

What me and my girl do in the park,

What me and my friends smoke in the dark,

Whether I care about the people or not,

I keep my morals or leave them to rot,

Leave my business to me, and shoo

What’s this rackety hullabaloo?

Gone are the days when the nation was old

If ever it was a sparrow of gold

Catching up now is the western hold

Give up, and know your culture is sold

Keep quiet, sit tight, don’t make ado

What’s this rackety hullabaloo?

Rashmi Gupta(116)

"Why are you still doing this job??"

She kept stirring and staring at the caffeine vapor…

"It pays you peanuts, drains your energy and drives you insane at the end of the day!"

The dark circles beneath her eyes were defied by the gleam in the hazel dew.

"Listen Mom, I am coming there next month. Get your passport in order. If you are so much in dire straits to work, you can find a decent job here too. Okay bye, take care!!"

The call ended.

The mayhem at the Morgue was enough to keep the hullabaloo in her head at bay. After all, that was the only way she could meet her dead husband, everyday.

Mandappa KC (119)

Joker licked his lips, with a smile across his face.

The interrogator screamed in rage.

“What the fuck is this hullabaloo about. Your death sentence is in 24 hours and I can’t fucking believe you’re smiling.”

Joker’s smile broadened.

The interrogator banged his fists on the table. “This time you’re not getting away.”

He slams the door shut and joins his colleagues on the other side of the one way mirror.

Joker stares at them intently, smiling, like he can see through.

They watch him, a tad scared.

The interrogator still beamed at him, with a “what-the-fuck-can-you-do?” expression.

Joker smiles. They can’t hear him say.

“This is your hullabaloo. Fuck you too.”


They’re blown to bits. He’s free.

Seema Kashyap (120)

Kashiram was reclining on his charpaayi on a hot summer day, thinking of everything and nothing in particular. He had placed the charpaayi under the shade of the biggest mango tree in the orchard, yet sweat dribbled down his back and disappeared into his dhoti every few minutes. Suddenly he heard a cackle of kids screams and shouts. Cursing, he rose up in a somnambulance of a summer afternoon, lifted his lathi and lumbered towards the voices. The neighborhood kids were his worst enemies- always trying to steal his mangoes. “Stop this bloody hullaballoo, get out..!”, he shouted as he emerged from the trees…only to come face to face with the meanest looking cobra he had ever seen! Hissssss! “AAAgh”!







The cotton ear-plugs and the thick woolen muffler wrapped around my ears failed to stop this great commotion. I had not been able to sleep for past three nights due to this pandemonium.

What's this hullabaloo, Jane, I asked her assuming that being a human, she must be knowing why these village people were creating such uproar.

-Oh Monkey, they are celebrating Dipawali, the festival of light.

But why are they spoiling our peace. We also celebrate, but tell me Jane, have we ever disturbed their peace?

Ruchika Bajoria(114)

"Ruchiiii, come back here! No safari park for you!"

"Uff Amu, why are you yelling? And STOP running around both of you!"

Amu looked at her masi petulantly and said, "but, but, she has my book! And I was reading it!"

"But, but, di isn't playing with us. All she does is put her nose in her books! Ughh."

Smriti looked at them carefully. Neither showed any sign of relenting. "Ruchi, give Amu her book."

"I knew you would say that. But me and mini need a third person to play!"

"I don't want to play! Now give me my book."

"I wont, I wont!"



Smriti sighed! The hullabaloo had started again!

Priyanka Chakraborty(107)


"We need to take her to the hospital..she's in labor.."

"I know trying to get through to the doctor.."

"Aaayyiiiaaahhh…forget the doc…get me into the ward first.."

"Yeaa taking out the car..hang on.."

"You are going to drive..?? Isn't that dangerous.."

"Dad, its 2:45 in the morning, we won't get a taxi.."

"Just go…go go…aaaaaaarrrgghh.."



"Ok, ok..calm down..we are in charge now"

"Someone call the doc…"

"Where's my hubby…where's my doctor…shittttttt...yyaaarrgghhh.."


"Doc's here…I'm here baby…don't worry.."

"Yes, don't are doing good… more push..that's a good girl.."


A cry to outdo all that hullabaloo..and smiles all around.. "It's a girl"

Richa Gupta(104)

" this is just my reflection on the financial chaos in the US and the insecurity and fear everyone is living with everyday. specially us, the ex-pats in the financial sector"

The market crashed

The banks collapsed

What a mess, what a to do

Everywhere a big hullabaloo

Debates and fights in the senate

700 billion dollars they want

The big financial giants we shall rescue

What a mess, what a hullabaloo

I am just glad I have a job

Never shall I complain about it again

At least I have food on the table for two

I am not caught in this hullabaloo

Wednesday, 15 October 2008


This is where  we stopped to rest for a while. Four months passed since .  
The Konfessioners are now busy with certain less important chores of their lives, and have handed over the reins to us , The Three Musketeers :)
This is only a time-gap arrangement amd we eagerly await them to return to there usual posts. Till then we , the musketeers will try to hold post as best as we, DokSaab, Juhi and Ruchika, can.
So till the time we get the takes on the new word, we present before you the five odd takes we received for the last word, Arrow. 
These are not up for Kompetition though.


  1. A missile having a straight thin shaft with a pointed head at one end and often flight-stabilizing vanes at the other, meant to be shot from a bow.
  2. Something, such as a directional symbol, that is similar to an arrow in form or function.

Sweta (117)

Following His release from  Underground, On His way back to Hades, Cerberus fell into an alternate world. 
Where some of the local folk indulged in gluttony even as their fellowmen starved to death.
Where one hand helped, the other stabbed.
Where they acted like pigs unabashedly then worried about becoming obese.
Where their frontal sympathy was followed posteriorly by "I knew it".
Where honey toned words disguised poisonous intentions...

Cerberus was brave, but these natives frightened Him. He wondered why his three heads scared mortals possessing infinite faces to go with their heads. He prayed to the Gods and tail tucked twit his legs He shot away like an arrow from a bow, hoping to hit home.

Nandini Sen (120)

Cupid’s work life’s in jeopardy. Big Boss is displeased.
Shooting his arrow on a victim is easy. But the work behind it is tedious. It takes time filling each arrow with the love potion, which in itself is pure and hard to get.
His opposite number from Satan’s team is acting faster. He’s mass produced arrows, filled it with cheap juice, and shoots blindly.
People are falling in lust, and even before Cupid can shoot the love arrow, the side effects of the cheap juice ensure jealousy hit the victims harder, leaving the heart (where love potion is injected) scarred.
Cupid needs help – more helping hands, more conducive hearts. He’s on a recruiting spree – do you wanna join his team?

Dok Saab (63)

Can you see the head of that bird?
Which bird, O Master.
Can't you see the bird sitting on that branch?
What branch, O Great One.
The tallest branch of that banyan tree.
Sorry Master, I cannot see the tree.
Then what do you see?
One eye is all I can see.

That's perfect, O Parth, your arrow can never miss the target.

Sowmya (113)

When his visitors left, he turned to his wife. "I have to do my duty."
"The consequences can be terrible for you."
"But they are right. Think of that young girl. It will make a world of difference."
"I'll come with you."
Armed with his bow and arrows he began his journey accompanied by his cuckoo, parrot, the gentle breeze, the lovely season of spring and his ever-loving, dutiful wife.
Their presence made the atmosphere cheerful and him hopeful. He saw the girl arrive. This was his chance. One arrow should do the trick. His wife prayed. Just as Kamadeva fired his passion filled arrow at Lord Shiva, his third eye blazed open……..

Priyanka (118)

It was the end of November. Ayodhya had been decorated lavishly. Lord Rama had come back after fourteen years of exile, vanquishing the rakshas raaj of Ravana. The glory and bravery of Lord Rama and Lakshmana, told and re-told; their heroics making the whole country rejoice. Rama, Sita and Lakshmana were clothed in the best of silks and jewellery. The priests chanted their mantras and the devotees offered their prayers in the huge temple. It was a sight to behold. I knew the photographs would come out beautifully. As I stood in the open courtyard, in the chilly night, I thought, "Lord Rama could have done with one of those nice and warm shirts from ARROW. It’s freezing."