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 submissionsknk@gmail.com

Thursday 13 November 2008

Mask

[Entries Closed]



Mask

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.
"Uncle…."
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)

UNKNOWN AMONGST THE KNOWN

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….