Again. Jezus, dunno if it was the nature of this past year, or if it's just me, but another year s zoomed past, and all that comes to my mind now when I think of it, is, FINALLY.

Usually, I find myself not wanting it to end... To let the good luck and happy times roll on some more, 'cuz you never know whats on the other side of 31st December... This year, I'm not doing that anymore. What makes it worse sometimes is the fact that the pain or laughter of a person, any person however indirectly connected to me, that I know of, no matter in what part of the world affects me.

More that anything, all I've done this year is, lose. Sigh. People, battles, faith, trust, my hearing capabilities, and more hair. The few black strands, mind you. Oh but what the hell! People could do worse, and what's more everyone I love is safe.

So, here's to the year that awaits us. May the fleas of a thousand camels infest the ass of whoever tries to screw your happiness and may his hands become shorter, so he can't even scratch. Wishing you all happy things and endings, and glorious beginnings.

I picked these up somewhere - and after reading them, for a long time, I sometimes wished someone had had the damn sense to say these words to me! Or cared enough to. So, here's me saying them to you, 'cuz somewhere, somehow each of us needs it :

To the you, the person with a golden heart, all you need is courage. The cowardly lion discovered he had courage all along, all he needed was a medal to remind him of it. You are hence, hereby reminded, that you are not only strong, but able, and wise and good and much loved.


- The Wicked Witch of the North.


With all my love,

Yours forever sthupitly.

I've always considered myself above hate, so far. The closest i've come to hating is, hating brinjals and silences. Brinjals, 'cuz well, they are brinjals and silences 'cuz they scare me. Other than that... I've never HATED someone.

I never thought I hated anyone. Past tense. Long passed, past.

I do. I hate the fact that I gave you the right to hurt me. I hate the fact that I told you what would hurt me. And you did. You do. And you know it. I hate me for hurting.

I hate that I shared my dreams with you, when all you could do was mock at them. I hate that it made me feel small. I hate that I let me feel small.

I hate that you made me feel like a looser, at times. That when you said it, even in anger, I let it pierce through, and hurt.

I hate you for making me cry myself to sleep every night, when you didn't shed a tear. I hate me, for being weak.

I hate you, 'cuz I can't ask you to fuck off, get lost, the way you did to me. I won't do it. I hate that I can't. Won't. 'Cuz I'm weak.

I hate you for taking me for granted. I hate me for letting you know, realise, that I'd really be there, no matter what. And you did that "what". I stayed.

I hate you for not understanding me. For never taking the effort to read in between the lines. I hate me, for expecting you to.

I hate you for knowing, and still doing it. I hate you for turning out just like another "somebody". I hate me for expecting it. Almost wanting it after a point, so that we could get it out of the way. 'Cuz more than knowing it was hurting me, I knew it wasn't good for you.

I hate that you don't realise, understand, comprehend, what I did for you... I don't want a nobel prize, but I wanted you to at least acknowledge it. I hate me for expecting something in return. Because then, that's not true friendship.

I hate you, 'cuz when I ruined myself just so your worst fears wouldn't realise, you made mine come true. I hate that now i'm left to pick the even more shattered, scattered pieces, alone... while you aren't. And don't give a damn.

Fooled ya, didn't I? Hell I f***ing fooled myself. Had to say it aloud. To accept it.

I don't know if it's really HATE, hate... I don't feel anger, towards anyone but myself. I just feel... sad at times, you know? Feel like bawling my eyes out... Crazy.. you hate something like that to? Or is it just me?

The number of "merry christmas" messages I've gotten, is amazing. Other than the social obligation people feel, there is on some level a degree of acceptance of the festival, in today's society. And that's great.

My years in Mumbai when I was younger is the reason for my feeling like bubbles bubbling. Bandra, specially the West was full of christians... I love the Mount Mary's church, and used to light candles there every evening. Still do, when I get the chance to go there. Santa, a huge real-like one , unlike the diet concious ones you see today, visited the colony, we kids got to help with the huge nativity scene and an amazingly huge tree... all the tidings of a great christmas.

The most special memories of mine of that time, other than the chirstmas delicacies I loved, was of the plays we enacted out at old-age homes a few days before christmas eve and in the church on christmas eve. I've always been an angle in the play. Sang a few carols too.

It rubbed off.

In the recent past, December makes for the not so good memories... Inspite of which, the cheer, I haven't lost. Hope, some might call it. Somehow, one makes it through. You trudge your way through a huge pile of crap, or that's what it feels like, and are ready for whatever is next thrown in your path.

Anyway, here's wishing you a very very merry chritmas.... with plum puddings and mistletoe kisses... lots of happy things and endings.

Yours forever sthupitly.

Listening to: We wish you a merry christmas by Willie Nelson.

I dunno what it is, or maybe I do, but there's something about meeting up with old friends. Mine, thankfully, aren't THAT old, as yet anyway... We don't see each other everday anymore, spend 8 hours sitting in classes together and then another 2 hours at some doggone tuition and then another few hours on the phone, jabbering about something we managed to forget to talk about. Imagine that.

Actually, there's nothing to imagine about it, each of us has most definately at least one person, with whom you'd have felt this. Or did I just get lucky? I have at least 12 of them, on last count. Did I say lucky?!!!

Whether it's just the familiar faces or the security you find in something that's known to you... Or maybe it's both. I know it's not always going to be there, in fact I was pretty sure the time I had come to finally let go, but apparently not. Sure, it's different. But it's there. Sure, it'll be even more different, but at least the memories will be there.

There was and always is a lot of letting go involved... You don't share day-to-day secrets, it's probably not easy and at sometimes the easiest to make your confessions, it's a lot of giving in to the fact that maybe they've moved on and have found better friends, it's a lot of question marks in your mind about what and who your dearest friends have become even though deep down they are essentially the same... it's the same drumming on my head, it's the same making of the movie "pen" (in which I star), it's the same teachers and their stories... Which I don't think we are going to tire of anytime soon. You'd think their effect and "funnyness" wared off after 6 years!

If I relate some of that stuff to you, you'll probably give me a weird look; ok a weirder look, happy? But with them, it's still hilarious enough to create an uproar. I think we've seen each other at our worst, through some of the toughest times, and some of the calmest and simplest and happiest times. I guess that's where the bond lies.

It was an absolute pleasure seeing everyone after ages, and right when I needed it. Just plain ol' laughter and commotion and acceptance. I dunno how that happened... the acceptance.. I was the "late entry" in the "gang"... but somehow, they let me in. And I'm forever indebted. Will be.

Anyway, that's enough of that. I hope each of us finds that solace, peace, calmness and a sense of joy and... just being with at least one friend. I hope each of my friends, you guys, always find good "better friends", if you must. May you always know, that there'll always be this grandma to come back to. And loads of happy things.

Yours forever sthupitly.

P.S : Results, are FINALLY, finally out. I cleared everything. Not that good, but managed to fit into the cream of the class. Can do better. Passed with warning.

HOTEL KERALA-FONIA - by The Yeagles

On the road to Trivandrum
Coconut oil in my hair
Warm smell of avial
Rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance
I saw a bright pink tube-light
My tummy rumbled, I felt weak and thin
I had to stop for a bite
There he stood in the doorway
Flicked his mundu in style
And I was thinking to myself
I don't like the look of his sinister smile
Then he lit up a petromax
Muttering "No power today"
More Mallus down the corridor
I thought I heard them say

Welcome to the Hotel Kerala-fonia
Such a lousy place,
Such a lousy place (background)
Such a sad disgrace,
Plenty of bugs at the Hotel Kerala-fonia
Any time of year
Any time of year (background)
It's infested here
It's infested here

His finger's stuck up his nostril
He's got a big, thick mustache
He makes an ugly, ugly noise
But that's just his laugh
Buxom girls clad in pavada
Eating banana chips
Some roll their eyes, and
Some roll their hips
I said to the manager
My room's full of mice
He said,
Don't worry, saar, I sending you
meen karri, brandy and ice
And still those voices were crying from far away
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them pray

Save us from the Hotel Kerala-fonia
Such a lousy place,
Such a lousy place (background)
Such a sad disgrace
Trying to live at the Hotel Kerala-fonia
It is no surprise
It is no surprise (background)
That it swarms with flies

The blind man was pouring
Stale sambar on rice
And he said
We are all just actors here
In Silk Smitha-disguise
And in the dining chamber
We gathered for the feast
We stab it with our steely knives
But we just can't cut that beef
Last thing I remember
I was writhing on the floor
That cockroach in my appam-stew was the culprit,
I am sure
Relax, said the watchman
This enema will make you well
And his friends laughed as they held me down
God's Own Country? Oh, Hell!

Another piece of treasure, I came across, ensaai. God bless the Eagles, and may the song ( the original, of course) live always :)

Yours forever sthupitly.

I hate shopping, really do. I'm not the change-"wardrobe" with every change in weather types. When I shop, which is like, once a year typically, I love doing it for people around me and my house. There's no stopping me on those two. Once in a while, I love doing it for me too.

So, most of the time, when I'm dragged from shop to shop, comaring prices and stuff, I tend to let my creative side take over. Here's a few things to do :

1) Pick up boxes of condoms and place them randomly in other shoppers shopping baskets. There's some pretty shocking "types" available.(P.S. The measure of the shockingness, can be calculated from observing your victims.)

2) Those huge mountains they make? Carefully arranged cans of cola? What if you accidently bump into one of them. Or pull one out of the center to see if it's any different from the ones outside?

3) Start weeping and crying out loudly, " Why don't they just leave me alone?" when some (unfortunate) clerk comes to you with the may-I-help-you stuff.

4) Move any and all "Caution. Wet floor." signs to not-wet/dry/ carpeted areas.

5) Use the security cameras, as mirrors to dig your noses. (Bet your wondering if I really wasn't kidding in the post earlier this week!!)

6) Hide behind a book/cloth rack and every time I person is going through stuff on the rack, shout "Pick me! Pick me!"

7) You could always, while intently looking at knives ask a clerk where the anti-depressants were...

8) Can try the same thing with rat poison too.

9) If it's a mall or something, and the personnel uses loud speakers to make announcements... when they do, cover up your ears and shout "Oh no! Not those voices in my head again!", like in agony.

10) You could light a few candles or/and start chanting some stuff and shaking and stuff - the usual "tantric" stuff, and when some ayyah bugger takes your seriously... let your creative juices flow.

11) Walk around quitely humming the Mission Impossible theme song.

12) Along the same lines of the previous one : take a call on your cell, or pretend to be talking to someone, in heated whispers, stressing on words like bomb, time left, mission accomlished, yada yada.

13) Pick up a costume, or sit behind one of the big bears in the kid section, and start moving every time a kid gets close to you!

14) Hide behind a counter at the ladies lingerie section, and every time a man turns up issue helpful warnings regarding their wives standing behind them, walking towards them, etc.

15) Open up a bottle of red paint, or a carton of tomato juice and make a trail leading to the changing rooms.

16) Write two chits with a "Meet you in the back, in 5 minutes. Switch off the lights when you enter." and pass them on to two employees/ customers. If your a handsome/beautiful person, you can pretend it's from you, else, just point at the nearest gorgeous/hunky person and say it's from them. Don't forget to see what happens!

17) Set all the clock alarms to ring at 5 minute intervals.

18) Place out-of-service signs near elevators and escalators, and watch people struggle up stairs!

19) Make sufficient noises and walk into a "opposite-sex" changing room with some "opposite-sex" clothes.

20) Call up someone, or just pretend to talk to someone on your phone, and do some dirty talking. Loudly.

21) Walk into a changing room, make funny noises and after a while, yell, "There's no toilet paper/ water in here."

Just be careful to avoid minimum possible contact with security personnel. Also, take care of the cameras and where they are placed and what area they are capturing (Specially, if you want the nose-digging to work). It'd help if your a slick talker with an adorable smile and dimple. Or have good legs.

Happy tripping,

Yours forever sthupitly.

Brought to you, courtsey of F.R.I.E.N.D.S., pogo, observation skills, some forwards on the internet and yours truly.

Disclaimer : The author takes no responsiblity for the outcome of the application of any of the above mentioned techniques.

I really hate it when I have mood swings. And lately, I've been having extreme ones. I'm not much of a dramatist, when it comes to... expressing stuff. I've got this childish idea that if people really do care they'll see beneath the surface. Read between the lines. Fill in the blanks. Whatever.

So, basically I'm just talking much more to myself. In my head. And you, my dear friend, will be better of taking it from me, that you don't ever want to end up in such a situation, no matter what.

It was so damn peaceful a while ago. Each day, instead of praying for some "spice" in my life, I was asking for tranquility. Okay, so that'd be taking things a tad too far, but I guess, just some peace and quite. Safety.

It's funny... *warning bells ringing* This post on Navneet's blog made me laugh. Another irony. Silences, was what he's written on. And very eloquently. The reason it made my smile, a sad smile, was 'cuz while I claim to hate silences with all my life, it's what I crave for most these days.

But then again, silences don't always have to imply the calm before a storm, I'm beginning to see that. I hate it when it's thrown on me. When I'm talking and people just shut up. I can understand when I'm boring them with the gory details of my life, it's one of the reasons I don't anymore, but when we're talking about them? General stuff? And they find something better to do, and then three hours later, when all the entertainment's worn off, they'll call up like nothing s ever happened.

Bullshit.

No, I'm not taking a shot at anyone, even though it might feel that way. I don't want an apology, in fact, it's the last thing I want. In fact, I don't even know what I want. What I'm supposed to want. Any clue?

I don't really hate anything or anyone. Sure, people have bullshitted me, and walked on me and out on me, but I don't really hate them. I hope I haven't done all that stuff to people, but even if I have, I really wish they didn't hate me, and knowing me, I've probably apologised. I don't think I really know how to hate... it's one of those things where I figure life's too short, and hating takes too much energy. So, I'd rather hate brinjals and too much socialising and silences.

It's very easy to make me believe it's all my fault, for some reason, and people around me take definite advantage of that. It's maddening, now that I realise it. Or maybe, it really is.

Blah. Blah person, blah life, and blah writing. Is blah and will die blah.

I finally found the ghazal I was looking for on one of my old cd's and I'm so damn glad. There was a 2 hour special on worldspace last night, so that was fantabulous.

I dunno what exactly I wanted to write about, but I guess i'll stop, this's been torture enough.

Lotsaluv.

P.S: Will blahhing really have two h's?? Or will there be one? Hmmmm...

It's official. I make a fool out of myself at least once each day. The other day, I called Tia Maria a who, and not a what. You knew it was a desert? Well, did you?

I usually don't mind it. I go a step forward and see to it, that it's done at least once every day. Not in that ( the above mentioned) way, though, but yeah, you get the point.

It usually is that way. When people pretend to know more than they really do, to save their "face" in public, it almost always backfires. It took a while for that to sink in, oh boy, did it.But it did, and now if I don't know what what is, I usually admit it.

I'll give you an example... When you have a or few holes in your socks, and they make you take off your shoes in school, for whatever reasons. It's hard to "hide" the holes, so what to do but wait to get embarassed? Tell them about it yourself. Them being your friends, and it being the hole(s). Say it aloud, with a you know... I just lovvre these socks I'm wearing so much, I hate to throw them away, 'cuz they're so soft. And that's all it'll take. You'll probably save a few more people from getting embarassed too.

People hardly ever believe you, when you say the truth. It's funny, sometimes. Specially around a person like me, whose every sentence is sarcastic and can almost always be intepreted in two ways. So, when I'm telling a person that the reason I want to hang up is 'cuz I don't want to talk to them , I'm being extremely funny. The berry bunny types. Lil do they know. (If your reading this, you know who you are, I WAS kidding, or was I ? )

When I'm saying I really do still own the soft toy I did at 10 years of age, or that I still do watch cartoons, or that on holidays I bathe only sometime in the evening, or that I used to write my name and *****'s name and draw hearts around it (Sis, if you even as much as squeak at that, you'll be the one mortified on Orkut. I've kept quite so far, just so that people know whose younger, Ahem) or that when I dig my nose I like to examine what I've found... people think your humoring them. About the later, I am, in case you didn't figure that out. I really am. I mean I guess I used to do it, back then in 2nd standard... when everyone does it, some even ate it, remember? I don't anymore. The figuring, not the eating. I never did eat, nor am I in the future, jezus! I really don't.

It takes a lot to know when I'm kidding and when I'm not. And I'm kinda proud of it, you know the whole mysterious aura thing.

Yours forever sthupitly.

P.S: It tastes kinda salty, na?

Crazy, eh? All these changes and all that, na? Blame it on boredom, and those bubbles that are bubbling. For some reason, I'm very amused with my "bubbles that bubble" concoction. I dunno where I keep coming up with such stuff. I guess, it's just a talent I'm going to have to live with. The misery of it all.

Sometimes when my sis or someone else asks me what I get out of cleaning, or deleting all the junk from my inbox or anything along those lines... I've never been able to find an adequate answer. It's pretty simple, and I guess that's why it's difficult to understand for people.

I really do believe in karma. The earth is round, and hence, what goes around, does come around. Karma, listening about it, learning about it, etc, brought me in contact with what prayers are. What the power of a prayer is. I've often wondered, not about the daffodils, but yes, about the power prayers weild. And weild, they do.

The most convincing explaination I could come up with was, that when one prayers, i.e., chants... The person creates a positive space around himself. He has positive vibes. The more you do it, the more stronger they become. You can often see and feel a person s state of being when you meet them. Those are the vibes I'm talking about. I dunno about how the "power" works, but then, there really isn't and can't be too much negative stuff around a person who has such a powerful positive space around himself. If that makes any sense at all.

It's the same with cleaning. I do it, so as to cleanse my self. My mind. To remove the clutter. To decrease the chaos. While it is impossible to totally eradicate it, because the theory of existance holds that the amount of chaos is directly proportional to the stability of ourselves and the world, and is hence very much a part of ourlives, this usless chaos needs to be taken out.

You do take your dustbins out every day, right? It's just like that. If you let it be, it'll oveflow, and make your house and life, well to put it eloquently, stink?

The same goes for useless emotions. Strong words I know, useless emotions. No, when I say that, I'm not condemning emotions. In fact, I'm just rubbishing useless emotions. Wondering about what to wear, what's "cool", lame stuff like that. True that, that they might not be lame to other people. In fact, I like them sometimes too...

It's just the excessive stuff that I'd rather do without. Rid yourself of anger, forgive yourself, so things go bad at times - laugh to keep from crying, simble, hurting sometimes is peaceful in itself, 'cuz at the end of it you know your going to heal and be great ( Not, OK, that's a horrible place to be, you know why!).

It's like... I dunno, the other template I was using, is peaceful... this one on the other hand represents my naughty self, hyper self, yada yada. I'm going to stick to this for the season, but it's still the other one that brings a sense of... homecoming? Relief? Relaxation? Sthupit example, but yes, that's the way it is.

All this cleaning, praying, bathing (To think!), walking... brings a sense of tranquility to a person s life, and hence to ones self. You should try it. I'm not talking yoga and all that, that's good if you have the time and inclination. Small stuff... Maybe sitting on the terrace with soft music, a walk after dinner with family, cleaning up, a long hot water bath after that, cooking, you get the point.

May peace be with you!

Yours forever sthupitly.

It feels kinda bad to be wanting to write about something good and happy, after the morning I had yesterday. But then, it's official without any trace of doubt, that I'm crazy. Ha.

Yesterday was one roller coaster ride. Spent the morning crying and feeling terrible, and hopeful, and the evening, listening to Jagjit Singh. Live in concert. For the first time. Lucky biatch, eh? That's me for you.

3 hours with the maestro. I haven't been this happy in eons!! The man is so bleddy good, the words, the music... everything. It all makes so much sense. And yet, at times it doesn't.

I remember, there was a time when dad didn't believe I understood what they were about. I was "too young". After a hard day, he'd lie down flat on the carpet in the hall and listen to Woh Kagaaz ki kashti, and I'd do just the same. Little did he know, that it did make sense to his lil girl, always did and always will.

There's some real sad ones, some real happy ones and some awesomely romantic ones. It's amazing how a few lines, put together in the right order, can suddenly be the best way to describe your life.

He did his signature ghazals.... Hoshwalon ko khabar kya,Tera chehra, Tum ko dekha tto yeh khayal aaya, Ahista Ahista and I could go on and on and on.

Rang bhi dekha, roop bhi dekha,
rasta, manjil, sahil, mahfil, koi nahi hai aisa,
tera saath hai aisa,
Meri akho ne chuna hai tujhko duniya dekh kar,
Meri akho ne chuna hai tujhko duniya dekh kar....

Has to be the bestest of my discoveries last evening. All in all, I was happy. It's kinda sad admitting it, but I was happy after a long long time. Guess music does that to you. Ghazals do that to me.

I hardly ever admit it... that I'm scared. That I'm hurt. That it pains. There's too many people depending on me, or so I let myself believe and I care too much. There's alot of times when I've almost given up and wanted to believe that it really won't ever be all right again, that there really aren't any happy endings and that love is just and abstract noun.

It's also real hard to believe that I'm so blessed. And I don't know what I've done to deserve any of it. I know I haven't, and I guess that's what makes me want to reach out to people, do some good. Make a difference. Justify all this. I dunno how many people realise it, but I do, with every turn life takes, that I'm doubly blessed. And believe you me, some of the stuff that "hurts" seems real trivial when compared to the stuff other people are subjected to for a large part of their lives. I guess, it makes me in different on one level... But, I dunno.

And it scares the shit out of me. Wondering if such stuff happened to me, what I'd do. If I'm strong enough to deal with it. If.... Ugh. The only place I like if is when it's linked to Rudyard Kipling.

Anyway, things are almost right on this side of the world. All thanks to an awesome evening. Mwah. I could kiss the damn computer screen. Oh and the template change, is to mark the begining of a new season of hope. And promises. And... well, me. And you.

I don't believe this. I feel like those bubbles of champagne. It tickles.

Lotsaluv,

Yours forever sthupitly.

P.S: If I didn't make any sense back there, you can sleep peacefully, knowing that I'm back to normal.

P.P.S: If I did make sense back there, well, God help you.

Damn. I just sat there watching the people on TV take me through Kenya and Madagascar. I just sat there. With tears streaming down my face. I just sat there.

Commercial sex workers, orphans, no bloddy roads, no aid, no nothing. And I just sat there. People not wanting to do away with stigmas, having no other option, no food, no jobs, no nothing. And I just sat there.

It's probably a sad excuse that I'm not old enough to do something, but seriously, what about all those people who ARE? People have enough money to buy 45 million dollars of property, buy aeroplanes, and have nothing in them to do something for people like these? How can you not want to do something? I don't understand. I really don't. How, when people who actually work these commercial sex works, know what having unprotected sex can do to people, do it?

1$ for sex with a condom.
2$ for sex without a condom.

Yes, you read it right. Can you believe it? No? Well then, read it again, and keep reading it till it sinks in, 'cuz it bloddy true. And you know where they work? On the street, under a flap of plastic.

Why do people do this then, you might ask? 'Cuz there ain't no other way to earn money to keep their families alive. And I just sat and kept looking.

Why do people who work them do this? 'Cuz they're sent by the Devil, dammit. I dunno. I can't think of anything. I can't think of a single bloddy reason, as to why people would want to go around sleeping with people on the road, firstly. The reason the people on the road exist, is because people, humans, well bred humans, go around looking for it. And there is no secondly.

There are more than 1 million orphaned children in Africa, alone, today. And these orphanages, they offer the kids porridge, three times a day. Porridge. I don't even want to think about how many there are in India today. But whatever it is, nothing beats that continent. Nothing.

50,000 people died of poverty on Monday. A 2-3 year old with two sticks, called legs, took 5 minutes to gain balance, so that he could stand. He had a pot belly ( one of the signs of Kwahiorkor,, malnutrition, protein deficiency and marasmus). You could count the ridges in one's spine on his back. I could count 7. There was mud and dirt stuck everywhere. There were flies taking 'red eyes' from his leg to his face. There was no strength in his hands to ward off flies. What was the point anyway? They would only come back. Workaholic flies.

50,000 people died of poverty on Tuesday. It's a beautiful day. It's a beautiful place. The place where you can see nature in all its glory. It's the land of deserts, tropical evergreen forests and sand-covered beaches. It's home to the largest wildlife and breeding ground for the world's largest flora. A thousand ships found its coasts and brought with them merchants and colonisers. A thousand ships left its shores, years later, with everything that the land had to offer. Now these very shores serve as a source of entertainment to the living village kids and a source of income to an odd fisherman. Welcome to Asia!

50,000 people died of poverty on Wednesday. A baby lay within the protection provided by its mother against the harsh climate. He wore no clothes. There were flies all over him. I don't think what could be see on him was skin. He was hungry. Not even the liquid-protein stuff that passed as food was left. So, he bawled. Everyone in the vicinity was below 25 years. If the infants were lucky they'd live to see their 16th birthday. And then they'd die of either AIDS, an epidemic, malnutrition, or poverty. Did I say lucky?? The place where you see nature in its most cruel form. A gold mine, now suffering from poverty. Welcome to the WORLD!

50,000 people died of poverty on Thursday and Friday.

You could go on thinking
That there was nothing wrong
Whatever happened to those values of humanity
When a child is now born into this world
With no sense of skin on his bones.

50,000 people died of poverty on Saturday.

And it will happen again. Over and over and over again. And again. And again and again. In Africa, in India, in the whole damn world.

'Cuz guess what? Nobody but a few hundred people around the world really do care enough, to do something about it. Everybody is so busy getting "fucked up" with their own lives, I mean what would we do without leaders throwing furniture at each other in the Parliament, what would we do without leaders who want nothing but easy cash and to hell with the rest of the world, people who are so bothered with what's the "coolest" thing of the day that anything but "I,me, myself" is foreign?

And 'cuz of people like me, who'll just see all this stuff, and do nothing about it. Well, here's what... If I don't do everything that is within my capability at every stage in my life, about all this, sue me. And that's a promise. To myself. And to these people.

Light up. Light up.
Even if you can't hear my voice,
I'll be right beside you dear,
I swear in the days left,
We'll walk in fields of gold together.