Love affairs of a Lifetime..

With the benefit of hindsight, Pop will be your childhood sweetheart - merely a funny, yet memorable mistake..

House and Trance could be your melancholy whores - pleasurable for but a young and reckless evening or two..

Rock 'n' roll will be your quarter-life crisis companion - fueling quiet thought and rebellion alike, to stick it out with you for life..

Alternative Rock will be your other best bud, introducing you to Club Rock at a party.. or Classic Ballads on your first (second, third..) heartbreak..

Jazz and R'n'B, many might fancy, as the secret love affair when they start taking Rock 'n' roll for granted..

Easy Listening will pillow-talk with you when no one else will.. & is most certain to walk into the sunset with you when your ears are too weak to listen to any more Music, of any kind..

No matter what your Genre, it's the Lyrics that will shine on.. With you, forever..

Save the Lyrics. Only 1409 meaningful songs left! :)

PS: Dedicated to Music. Lyrics. iPods. Baz Lurhman. And also to Jack Johnson - the new age Bob Dylan & my hero!


Cheers. Keedas. Peace. I'm back ;)

Mumbai is dying. Long live Mumbai.

My city has become scary. I want to yell my wrath out. I want to weep endlessly.

I don't want to hear Mr. CM declare 'we had information but it was not direct information.' I don't want Mr. Advani's futile presence in my city. I don't want Mr. Modi's crore. I don't want hon'ble Mr. Singh's 'strong words'. I want people not to come out & camp at rescue operation sites.

I want martyrs revived. I want Mr. Karkare back. I want innocent people to at least finish their meal before they meet their deathly fate. I want bullet-proof jackets that actually work. I want Moshe reunited with his parents. Irrational? What has been rational in the last 4 days anyway?

I want to appeal to all Indians & foreign nationals alike, daunting as it might be, to revisit & reunite with the phenomenal legacy that is the Taj Mahal Palace. For if we don't rebuild & embrace the Taj, terror wins. I want to spare a thought for the first 56, seemingly forgotten, who got killed at CST.

I don't want to hate that 21 year old. I want to make him fall in love with Maximum City - so much that it alters his meddled brain, so much that it fills him with overpowering remorse for what he has done to it, so much that it makes him cry. Did he not once see the beauty of the Taj, the grandeur of the Gateway by night? Did he not once feel like other 21 year olds at Leo's? Hell, wasn't that backpack too heavy? Wait. I'm talking crazy again, aren't I? What has managed to even border the limits of sanity in the last 4 days anyway?

I am not terrorised. I have retained my spirit but it certainly has been dampened. Empty local trains, empty offices, quiet colleges, bloodied railway platforms, bullet cases & grenade shells strewn about my city's streets. I am not resilient. No one is. I will not move on. This time, no one will.

I want to dine at the Golden Dragon someday. I don't want to 'wonder what that sound was' when I hear firecrackers, scooters, stray dogs playing with empty plastic bottles. I don't want my mother to be worried every time I step out, in my home city.

Enough. I want peace in Mumbai. Godspeed.


PS: Quote of the season - "Mr. Terrorist, I'm alive. What can you do? Mr. Politician, I'm alive despite you. I'm a Mumbaikar."