As it IS. A journal by Adwait D

I got hate in my heart, a corpse in the dark, revenge on my mind, 7 years in the grind,
I'm ready to kill, I'm ready to heal, a knife and a gun, my time has finally come.
As victims fall to their knees, I feel a cold breeze,
And as I get bolder, colder, I think I'm finally free.
I rip off your chest, pull out your heart, and take a bite while it's still beating,
but I put it back in after I'm done, coz stealing is just cheating.
As you unwind in the club and dance to the beats,
I'm getting locked down for life, selling bags on the streets.
The government took away everything I ever had,
So I'm gonna be thug, steal, and buy a stereo for dad.
I'm not musically inclined, I just say what's on my mind,
it's usually sick, when murder is played and rewind.
Fuck you, I would win every episode of fear factor,
and I never flunked school, although i skipped every chapter.
Streets are better teachers, drug dealers are the best counselors,
classes made up of pimps, prostitutes and strip club dancers.
A cat needs a ball of wool, and a dog needs a stick,
But all I ever needed was some smack for my kicks.
This verse is going nowhere, so I better stop it,
Just like your penis and u know u need to chop it.

Damn, I'm good!

The operation won’t take long and you’ll feel much better in the morning.

There has been a slaughter here, so many of us are dead,
A lizard glides through the corpses, the couple was newly wed.
I cannot bear to live alone, and dine by myself,
Clean my single dish every night, and shuttle across life and death.

No one keeps me company; they all throw me out,
Out of their houses, out of their hearts, and none can hear me wallow.
Night after night I lay awake, covered with very my own blood.
The blood that the bugs rejected, and the blood that they cannot swallow.

The silence of the four walls pounds my brain, beating it to pulp,
The five senses are instruments of torture, and that helps me gulp.
And what's worse is that the trip is lonely too.
My dreams are just as bad as real life, so that makes it two.

I beg the solitary reaper to slice my throat and be done,
But she says she doesn't have the time, and that she won't come.
Hotel rooms are a nice place to die, you can ask the joker,
All you need are some sleeping pills and perhaps a choker.

While describing my life at the "In Plant Training" in Tarapur, only one word comes to my mind, - HELL. Or it could be worse, cause I haven't been to hell ever.

My life here basically consists of slaving it out at the factory from 9 - 7 through the day, and although the official timing is from 9 - 5, the watchman doesn't let me out until 7. Nor do my supervisors (fondly called masters by everyone beneath them). This is the "slave on a plantation" part of my life.

After that I come "HOME" to a nylon mattress (the only piece of furniture in the house). From 7 - 11 at night, I try washing my clothes without a washing machine, using only Tide and a brush. Each piece of clothing takes 30 min to brush, and jeans sometimes take 45. After that I try to make dinner and give up, cause there is nothing to cook with (that includes no food material and no cooking utensils). This is the "housemaid" part of my life.

I have two roommates, both of whom are Oriya. I have nothing against the Oriya people who inhabit my country, except for the fact that I wouldn't give a damn ( be extremely happy rather) if they were exterminated from the face of the earth tomorrow. One of them is called Mr. Behra and the other one Mr. Sahu. Both of them don't speak English, or Hindi, or Marathi, or any other language I remotely understand. In fact, what they speak cannot be even called a language. They do however manage to magically cook some Rice and Daal (or something that resembles that kind of food). It has no taste whatsoever. We eat that for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and because we can't get too much of it, sometimes between meals also.

All my life I have been eating Rice and Daal at home, but I have never encountered as little as a tiny granule of stone in my Rice. The rice here seemed to be giving birth to boulders inside my mouth, which i politely take out with my fingers and throw out of the window. But the sons of bitches lacked even this common courtesy. Let me describe a common incident that takes place here during meals.


Mr. Behra is busy gobbling up his rice like its caviar on black bread with champagne.
He encounters a huge boulder in his mouth.
He spits it out.
It lands on my side of the plate. (We have only one plate between the 3 of us.)

Me: Dude, What the Fuck dude! U spit in my plate.
Behra: It's our plate, remember? djdcsdc edefecelclllcecaacdedxaxmmeeca......
dffrwvfoeoopdqd..... (native fuckin oriya)
(continues eating and spitting)

Not exactly the vibe you get dining at the Trident on Sunday afternoons. (Unless there are terrorists, but even that might not be this painful.)

After dinner (haha joke), I try sleeping on my nylon mattress. But as there is no electricity here ever, it gets really hot. This the the "Ginger bread man" part of my life.

So if you think your life sucks, just re read what you just read.
And even if you dream about how your life sucks, wake up and apologize immediately.

Its time you realized,
What you say is a big ball of shit,
I've had enough of your lies,
So its time to smoke on my cannabis.

C'mon Baby, lets get higher!
C'mon Baby, lets get higher!

And I wouldn't mind getting high,
I've spent the entire day with you,
So now I leave you with a sigh,
Glad that the day is through.

C'mon Baby, lets get higher!
C'mon Baby, lets get higher!

And I won't have to see you again,
Until Monday coz the weekend's here,
I hope you understand my pain,
I spent the week in reverse gear.

C'mon Baby, lets get higher!
C'mon Baby, lets get higher!

You can change the way you live your life,
Open your mind for a different view,
Cut your Mind open with a knife,
Let it fly and learn something new.

C'mon Baby, lets get higher!
C'mon Baby, lets get higher!
C'mon Baby, lets get higheeeeeeeeeeeeeer!

As I smoke on my cannabis, I realize I'm on maximum brain damage,
And when I'm through the "Can of Bliss", my mind I cannot manage,
Cancer sticks got me hooked, and my hands shook,
the day we ran out of ciggy's that Stan took.

Every moment I'm awake I'm on a tight rope walking,
And every time I fall off, the voice inside me stops talking,
And a moment of defeat lingers on and I'm rattled,
And i get my daily dose of war coz addiction is an everyday battle.

How did it all start?, I'll tell you how,
Because I was all alone, and I could get no love,
And love is the answer they say, so why was I deprived,
It was so lonely, so now you know how I survived.

Happy people with perfect lives,
Beautiful people with plastic smiles,
getting what they wanted seemed so easy,
All they needed were borrowed lines,
And it all seemed so cheesy.

But I was wrong, coz "no tickey no laundry",
And when I can be me, then I can be free,
And the best you can do is to be you,
As I quote the greats, what I say is just not new.

So show me some love people, please help me change,
Give me another chance, pull me out of the dope game,
the wounds are fresh, and all I can see is red,
Should Quit while I'm ahead and not when I'm dead.

It's been a long time!
I shouldn't have left you...

The most awaited - anticipated - imitated - rap artist - was created,
On march the 16th, when i was born, and the world was elated,
I spit fire, as soon as i got butt-slapped,
my 1st track, dissed the doc and the nurse who wrapped,
me in a towel and she was zapped - and clapped - at
the enormity of my jewels that got her in the sack.
At present, a girl calls me a M.C.P., but it's cool, (true)
coz i peddled the Roc, when she pedaled her bike to school.
for me books were tools, to smuggle dope into schools,
with a hole in them, where ya put your ganja at,
gateway drugs are a myth, ganja is herb for the soul - cats.
Police set lethal traps, but I always kept my bags packed,
and slipped through the gaps of the ghetto, and the ghetto has no maps.
But now i sell dope through my rhymes, that are just as addictive,
Nourishment for your brain, my imagery and visions make you submissive.
A lyrical terrorist, I blow you up, just to get you elevated,
And am elevated myself, in the process that rids the hatred.
And then I'm filled with love, and I begin to think,
Lyrics flow through me, naturally, And for that time I'm RAKIM.



They fear him, And now they can't hate Him,
coz after all the drama, Kaka slayed them.

A pen and a paper, a stereo, a tape -ah,
and with these tools i paint a landscape -ah,
the rivers flow with the flow of my rhyme,
So sit back and relax as I take you back in time.
Summer was in and school was out,
Gin and juice time, as they all looked about,
And yelled, "Kaka, where ya at?",
like my name is a natural aphrodisiac.
I took out my car, got done some waxing,
No plans for the day, just chillin and relaxing,
Pop in a cd, and let Biggie Smalls play - full blast,
And reminisce of the girls and the summers in the past.
I go to the disco and the dance-floor's empty,
and so now I realize why He sent me.
When I'm done, its suddenly cool to dance,
I leave the crowds hypnotized and tranced.
Its 6pm, time for the summertime hangout,
all your friends are there, and without a doubt,
guys hunting for girls and the girls doing likewise,
I think I like the girl with those blue eyes.
I go up to her, and ask her out for a date,
(she says yes), "Hello mom, I think I'm gonna be late."
Thank God, its the summertime,
time to relax and time to unwind.


Hard work never killed anyone, but why should I risk it?
And If it isn't broke, why should I fix it?




Yes i did it. Finally something with no profanity.
It's a good, clean poem.
(Sense of achievement passes through me like electricity)

Hope u Digg it...

What is life?

A pair of 2 beautiful jugs, and a hot ass. Thats all, thats it!

What are friends?

Friends are people who roll joints for you, or help you score some decent maal, and are always ready to light up whenever u feel a little down.
The others are just lame high schoolish punks who refuse to grow up. But they are just as good.

What are girls?

Popularly called Chamiya, Chammakchallo, item, Maal, in most circles, girls are objects.
Everyday objects, just like toothbrushes and paste, which you rub over your teeth in the morning. Just like trains, which you ride everyday on your way to work/college. Some of them might even be like lectures, nagging us all day, and making us wish we were never born. Or a sip of the afternoon chai, or the puff of a ciggy, gone in an instant, but make u feel good for a while. Or maybe a chilled beer after an honest day's work.

All these objects, and many more rolled into one, make up a woman. But in finality, a woman is always an object, always has been, and always will be. Amen!

What is sex?

Cant say, never had it before. But it's definitely not porn. (Or is it?)


Shit, my blog's female fan following must totally suck!

Ladies, I apologize on behalf of my gender, but we are like that only.

P.S. - Miss CS, I forgive you.

The peaceful acceptance of reality,
the absence of tyrannical brutality,
understanding the metaphysics of quality,
the Malleability of my mentality.

That is freedom.

Its "Israel" for the Jews,
its the ability to choose,
and to have nothing to lose,
A corpse hanging from the noose.

That is freedom.

To say what you want to say,
to pray the way you want to pray,
holidays in the month of may,
for kids, when its time to play.

That is freedom.

3 square meals every day,
A sailing ship in the bay,
Demons of doubts in our mind we slay,
And through the deserts we find our way.

That is freedom.

Harmony of the beast and man,
And morality, and the beast in man,
And of perception and thinking says Kant,
And What I have is what I want.

That is freedom.

Boys who like girls for who they are,
Gloomy bars, And a girl who can drive a car,
A wife who never screamed at her husband and kids,
A college grad who never saw a porno vid.
But who am I to blow the lid?

Open your eyes, to realize, that all you ever heard or saw were lies,
In a matrix, where ignorance's bliss, there are lows and there are highs.
And though I'm a pot addict, and my mind's slightly twisted,
I can tell the truth from lies, and the things that never existed.

I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst...

...and then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life.

I am the opposite of who I am.

I'm black and white, the Yin and the Yang.
I am the pyramids of Egypt and castles made of sand.
You think I can't, but I think I can,
And then you try to convince me to change my plans.

I'm Puff Daddy and I'm Jane Fonda,
I'm a Harley and a Hero Honda.
I am the oceans and I am the coast,
I'm the Father, Son and the Holy Ghost.

I'm Hitler and Gandhi rolled into one,
I am the Buddha and I am the Gun.
I am the Dark and I am the Bright,
I am the wind and I am the kite.

I am Courage and I am Fear,
I am the tongue, the mouth and the ear.
I am all that is good and all that is bad,
What makes you happy, makes me sad.

I am Kind and I am cruel,
My mind and body is in a constant duel.
I am human and I am God,
I am perfect and I am flawed.

I am a tear and I am a smile,
I am an Inch and I am a mile,
You cannot define me in a thousand dimensions,
Yet I am one of my own inventions.




So,
Try stereotyping me now...
Just Can't be serious man..
\m/

I wanna end it all,
Coz I'm tired of life...

Tired of living life as a shadow of myself.
Tired of giving in to the bottle of Jack in my shelf.
Tired of friends not having faith in what i do.
Tired of sleeping through the sem, and then wondering how time flew.
Tired of girls saying no to everything i propose.
Tired of wearing the same old boring clothes.
Tired of eating South Indian food in cafes.
Tired of traveling in locals, traffic and delays.
Tired of being hired and fired the same day.
Tired of the rain in june and the heat in may.
Tired of being criticized for everything I do.
Tired of the exams I give which i normally screw.
Tired of all the plans I had in mind which never materialize.
Tired of my luck in life and the roll of the dice.
Tired of writing stuff with no one reading it.
Tired of being left out, why I'm I a misfit?
Tired of writing this suicide note which doesn't seem to end
Tired of standing out, I really do try to blend.
I'm Tired of drowning in my sorrow.
And I'm Tired of the day called tomorrow.

Once upon a time I was poor. My Mother made great sacrifices for me during this time and continues to do so today. But it was especially hard for her at that time, when she had to juggle her office, me and also take care of the finances. But she was always there for me, and she gave me the best childhood anyone can ever have. Although I didn't listen to her many times and regretted it later, she would always keep her patience. This little poem is a tribute to my mother... the greatest in the world of course....



Hey Mama, this song is about you and me,
We've traveled so far, its hard for me to see,
What you've done for our family, but finally,
I understand what you went through,
To buy me those beautiful shoes, When i was 5,
And when i cried, I saw the tears in your beautiful eyes.
You spent all your money buying me stuff i didn't need,
God forgive me, Man, for my deeds, so full of greed.
So now i spread the message of love in the language of rhymes,
Seeking atonement for my numerous crimes, numerous times.
You've made it Mama, it's your time to shine.
I promise, you wont have to work when i grow up,
And I'll buy you a mansion when i make a billion bucks.
And I'll buy Dad a tux he always looked at, through the window,
And You'll probably gain some kilos, riding in a stretch limo.
I know i acted a fool, I should have done better at school,
But Mom, i wanted to be cool, never realized that education was the tool.
Sometimes i cheated you mom, and the things i said were lies,
Whenever i think about those times Ma, I part of me cries,
And it can't be disguised, all is revealed through my eyes.
You asked me to keep outta trouble and I did just the opposite,
Yet you never said,"I said so", and you helped me cope with it.
You are my determination, inspiration, motivation, reason for not quitting,
And there's nothing on earth that's fitting, for all the sacrifices
you made for me, and all of your pain,
I hope never to let you down again.

I Love You Mama...

If you are a single, typical, young man who lives in India, the day will dawn when you realize that the only way you can get SOME, lies in the hallowed institution of marriage. Most of the guys I know have squandered their adolescence trying to GET BUSY, without any luck. So one day, when you're probably 25, you'll harbor hopes of acquiring a HOT FOX through "Arranged Marriages". I shall redefine beauty so that there is no confusion whatsoever in your mind about beauty and some of you don't regret having to spend your life with a Grizzly Bear.

Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder.

What a piece of bullshit! Everyone know this is the biggest piece of prevarication ever used to con man! If she's HOT, she's HOT. Don't matter what u think or i think, she's HOT. And in your heart you know that's true.

I formally change this quote to :-

Beauty lies in the eye of the Beerholder.

Coz i won't call Queen Latifah, Naomi Campbell unless i have more beer than blood in my body.

Before you start looking for a woman, aim high, and go for the most beautiful one you can get. You deserve her. Man's wealth has always been traded off with a woman's beauty, since Adam and Eve got together. If you got the right earning potential, spending potential and the green card getting potential, you should be okay.

Don't okay a girl just by seeing her photographs, coz photographs lie!
They maybe airbrushed to get all the pimples out, make her face look slimmer and make her hair extra black (extra hair maybe added too). Some girls might even put their faces on bodies of professional models with perfect figures, and you'll find out later that she's really a 36000-24000-36000. (bad joke).

Even when actually seeing a girl in person be careful. If she's wearing a loose salwar kameez or a sari, be sure of the fact that she's obese. If she's not doing most of the talking she's probably holding her breath to hold in her paunch. You got to see her in western clothes at least once. Coz if a girl has something to show, she will make damned sure that you will see it.

Suppose you make sure that your future wife is slim(some how!). You're job is still not done. Coz a lot of overweight women go through crash diets during the wedding season, starving themselves or going to professional "fat-farms" to lose dozens of pounds, to get into presentable shape. And then they get it back on after 2 months of marriage.

A solution to this problem is that you look at their pictures taken 2-3 yrs ago. That way you'll know whether they are inclined towards obesity or not.

So best of luck you not so lucky guys!

In my next article i shall try to tackle a much more difficult question which has puzzled all of "Man"kind up to date :-

"Do women ever get Horny?"

I will not hope for a miracle cure,
Even though there are many hardships I'll have to endure,
And of victory, i cannot be sure,
I will be the change.

I will not run from a possible fight,
If I know in my mind that I'm right,
So I wont be a martyr tonight.
I will be the change.

I will not see through the eyes of the old,
I will explore my mind, the world, and be bold,
I will walk alone if i don't have a hand to hold.
I will be the change.

I will try something new everyday,
Doesn't matter if there is a huge price to pay,
And I wont stop until all my hair are gray,
And it does seem strange, to change.
But I will BE the change.

My words start a chain reaction/ Premature Ejaculation/ Eternal Damnation/ I will try your patience.
In my dreams/ I'm a MC killing machine/ Rap University Dean/ A vaccine/ for all your sins.
My blog causes Mass Destruction/ Packed with Action/ I'm a Class Surgeon/ I Use Lethal injections.
I leave your mind a barren wasteland/ U piss in your pants/ I Activate Hormone secreting glands/ So Ur Future is in my hands.

The blind can see me/ Don't try to be me/ Its not easy/ I make the Virgin Mary look sleazy.
I'm the Most Imitated/ Underrated/ Rap Graduated/ Unaided/ Dated Megan Fox/ Hated.
But never intimidated/ The greatest ever Rated/ MC in the whole world.
My Rhyming Skills/ Got the MC suicide rate climbin' hills/ Got them poppin Anti-Depressant pills/ I get paid in million dollar bills.

I Speak the language of love/ I Shove/ Doves/ In the clouds Above.
The Deaf can hear wat i say/ They sway/ to my songs everyday/ I keep it cool in the middle of may.
My music is universal/ Funnier than Peter, Russel/ Gets me into a lot of trouble/ But life isn't a dress rehearsal.
I don't have a plan B/ I will be all i can be/ And say wat i must say/ Coz God wont replay today.

Enjoy...
Part 1



Part 2



Comments Needed!

Is it possible to love and hate the same person at the same time.

I guess i have that feeling once again.

And I can't sleep.

A week from now is my 25th UICT reunion, and I'm scared to death.

Scared to face all my successful classmates, with perfect lives, money and glory, while i have nothing to show for my life except for some graying hair and a slight paunch. I looked at the 2011 UICT Bombay Technologist all night long just staring into the faces of the guys who were undergrads like me, and now are entrepreneurs, scientists, researchers, CEO's and other such successful people.

A few of the glittering successes were close friends of mine. The Tanky has become a leading pharmaceutical researcher and developed a all-in-one capsule for diseases ranging from common cold to cancer. Bevda has developed engines that run on edible oil, and also made all oils consumed by man to be totally fat-free. The Fat Bastard lives in his 200 room villa in southern Italy. One of the losers is now the Mayor of Churchgate and Andheri. The MP from Mumbai is the guy in whose room we used to smoke pot after class. The fellow whose clothes i borrowed many times just published a best-seller. The "Psycho Robot Stabbing Killing m/c" now runs a fashion house in Paris and also is the editor of the "Vogue". And I could go on and on.

Being an eternal Poet (not a good one though) I'll try to summarize my college years in two verses :-

A cup of tea before a Class,
and a smoke thereafter.
Nothing much in between,
save a little laughter.

Shots of Vodka in the night,
And smoking pot too.
But what killed us more,
were Confessions, some of which were true.

A glimpse of a fair maiden,
picturing her to be my wife.
A verse on Her and my Love,
those were the best days of my life.

Meanwhile, I'm still scared as hell.

This blog was originally created by me to let you (the readers) get a peek into my innermost and darkest thoughts and desires. But, i admit that i have wavered intermediately. However, with this post i shall try to redeem myself.

This is a aberrant thought that keeps popping up into my mind every now and then. But i shove it into some dark, deep corner of my mind. But on this melancholy Sunday evening i cannot resist telling you all about it.

I look around me. Everywhere i see, i find people in love. In I.C.T., at home, building, neighborhood, old neighborhood, stations, restaurants, theaters, malls, everywhere! I don't think of it much at that time. But when I'm alone on a gloomy Saturday afternoon, or a lugubrious Sunday evening, I do wish there was someone i could spend my time with. Not necessarily to talk to, or do anything worthwile, or share some activity, just to sit by me and witness my life.

Sometimes i fear that i may never find Her. I have nightmares. In each one of them, i am 40 years old. (strange). On weekdays I'm slogging, doing some stupid job i hate, eating cold meals all by myself, with no one to talk to. I come home from work and make myself a small meal if i haven't ordered anything on my way back. Sometimes i just don't eat at night. Then i lay awake on a large, cosy bed until 2 in the morning when i finally decide to pop some pills that'll make me sleep. Day after day after day. On weekends I'm too drunk to remember anything. Life goes on and I die one day in my rented apartment, with a glass of rum in my hand, sitting in my grouchy old couch watching television. No relatives attend my funeral. The authorities take care of the protocol with ruthless celerity. Not a tear shed.

I hope this doesn't happen to me ever, but i give in to such negative thoughts some times. I know time will take care of me. It has to. I always believed that I was perfect, but know i realize that that isn't true. I have to get rid of my cankers and ameliorate my good qualities. (GRE mutha-fucka). I have to be more tolerant and think before i speak. I've really hurt a lot of people with my caustic remarks and i wish i could take them back. So that's a hard lesson life's taught me. Please forgive me if i fucked up ur case, or verbally assaulted you. I'm a messed up dude, and i do need you in my life.

However, I shall always try to remain true to myself.
It is always better to be sad and truthful, rather than to be fictitiously happy.

Hope i have some luck in that department, as i have had in getting my friends!

A tribute to one of my favourite actors...
MITHUN CHAKRABORTY...




Some of his greatest dialogues-

Apun ka muqabla kisi Amitabh, Sharukh aur tuchhe stars ke saath nahin hai agar apun ka muqbla kisi se hai to wo hai khud mithun se. Koi shaq?

Mein tere laash pe Bhangraa Karunga

Mein hun jurm se nafarat karne wala, garibon ke liye jyoti, gundo ke liye jwala.

Dada hota he baap ka baap, aur mein hun tum sab ka baap.

Mera naam he shankar, aur hun mein gunda no 1.

Bheegi huyi cigarette kabhi jal nahi shakti, tere maut ki tarikh kabhi tal nahi sakti.

Mera nam he suraj, truck driver suraj.

Aaj 1 tarikh he... 2, 4, 6, 8, 10.... bus.

Dikhne me bewda, Daudne me ghoda aur maarne me hathoda hun me.

Ayeee...maa kasam.... apun hai Mithun... yaaron ka yaar, dushmano ka dushman. Apun ka asli naam he Gouranga Chakraborty, par log apun ko mithun ya prabhuji bulate he.

Itni goliya maroonga ke gaon wale tamba bech ke amir ho jayenge.

Aj Dekhega parmeshwar
kaise marta hai rajeshwar

Kargil mein maroge to shaheed kehlaoge...yahan pe maroge to ghade ki leed kehlaoge!

maine meri diary me tere sath maut ka appointment 5 baje fix kiya hai...tu marega,zaroor marega...

dene wala jab deta hai toh chappar faad ke deta hai ,
aur leta hai toh thappad maar ke leta hai

Ye kanch bulletproof hogi magar patthhar proof nahi

hum karta hai kamaal, humse panga lega to kar dega dhamal, kyunki hamri paas hai laal rumal

Kanoon ko Khel aur Vardi ko Rakhel samajhnewale ko Jwala Maarta nahin Maar deta hai

Is amiron ke na insaafi ke kothe par mein garibon ke mujre ki shamma ko bujhne nahi doonga

oyeeeeee.....kya rayyyyy...panga nahi lene ka........panga liya to daanga ho jayega...aur daanga ho gaya na................tu bilkul nanga ho jayega.......kya....

do waqat kee roti ke saath public ka pyar mil jata hai, apne leeye itna hee kaaphi hai

sher ka shikar karna kutto ka kaam nai haiiii.........

toofan me to hum khushi se jaate hain
jhoomkar jee aate hain
tum wo ho jise samundar nigal jaata hai
hum wo hain jo samundar pee jaate hain

shaana wohi hai jo thandi aane ke pehle khambaal karide
chahe woh chor bazaar ka hi kyun na ho

Zindgi kee kitab ke wo panne padd chuka hoon jinhe log kholane se bhee ghabrate hain

Tere sineme gaad dunga mai maut ka bhala.

Nafrat ki aag mein jal kar main pyaar karna bhool baitha hoon

tu is ladki ka mama hai....mama ka matlab jaanta hai.....mama matlab ma aur mama yaani do ma

desh ke dushman tera hoga muh kala, kyunki aaj bulla ka hai janaza uthne wala

pehele tere sir pe he maut ka sehra sajne wala, phir meri gundagardi ka hai danka bajne wala

kasaam kha ke aa gaya hai intiqam ka yeh angara, baja dunga aaj teri maut ka nakkara

kundan mere kundan,laganugi tujhko chandan aur bhejungi tujhko london

ye tumhara sadaa hua tiger nahi hai..ye to Bengol ka tiger hai

Ayeee aaj kull netagiri aur gundagardi dono ek hi baap ki do harami aulaad hai

INSPECTOR KALE AB LAGNE WALE TERE MUH PE MAUT KE TALE

Bulla tunhe Lambu hatele ko maut ke tave pe sek diya
Aur uske laash ko worli ke gutter mai fek diya.......

This has been a terrible start to the new academic year. Thanks to some new shitty rules, going to college has become miserable. The students of ICT ( localites + hostelites ) will agree to what i am saying.

The new rules this year are -

• No localite can enter any of the hostels at any time.
• Old hostel people cannot go into the new hostel and vice-versa.
• Munna Canteen closed at 10.
• Separate uniforms for new/old hostel students for identification.

I cannot believe this had to happen to us in the third year. Wtf!
Now we can no longer watch movies, take naps, or chill out in the hostels. We are forced to go home or wait in some classroom in between lectures.

This cannot be accepted on any terms. Those ICT students who have read this, please contact me (9819186331). We will decide a time and place to protest against these new rules. Please spread this by word of mouth. We need to do something. These are the best years of my life. I don't want some stupid rules to waste them.

Inquilab Zindabad,
Go Home Hostel-in-charge.

I am being ignored by almost everyone since school reopened. I don't know why. I know I've been rash with a lot of people including my friends. So, the thing that i feared the most has finally happened. Although i might try to convince myself that i can survive without anyone talking to me, deep down i know it is completely false. I need my friends. I need people to laugh at my jokes, (or at me in most of the cases.) I need to borrow notes, be informed of lectures and practicals, and to give me company in trains.

I've made fun of a lot of people through this blog. Let me tell you a secret. I envy each one of that person. The people that have been made fun of in this blog are the people who are going to be leaders of tomorrow. They have a lot of talent and potential. I see that in them. Since i possess none of their qualities, i TRY to laugh at them. But the joke is on me, really.

I am an ugly, lonely caricature of a human being. I need you guys to stop ignoring me. I'm sorry if i have hurt you, and i wish to make amends to it through this post. God has been kind to me by bringing you people into my life.
So please look after me.

I hope ur not ignoring this blog too...

Sarang Bhaway is one messed up dude. He plays excellent table-tennis, gets good grades and is pretty well behaved in front of the ladies. He even avoided liquor for 1 whole year just to be Mr. goody pants. But even that wasn't enough for this bitch to get laid. Enough with the eulogy, lets get on with the story.


Part 1 -


For one whole year Sarang got on to the train to churchgate, but never really made it to that station. Unfortunately for him, a stupid, lousy, bird-brained chutiya, the T.C. in this case managed to sneak in and kicked Sarang out. This chutiya wouldn't let Sarang get near churchgate, and stuck to it like an ant to a sugar cube. Churchgate also took full advantage of Sarang. While it vasuled taxes from him, It wud never let Sarang use its amenities, like electricity, water, roads, security from theives in the dark. Hahahahaaha....

Then Sarang got mugged. The muggers took his cellphone away and beat him up mercilessly (exactly what i wanted to do for 1 yr). The next day he came to college and we laughed at him until our stomaches hurt. This isn't a part of the story, but its too good to miss.

Then one day Sarang realised that he will never get to Churchgate. Also i told him that Churchgate is too small a place for anyone to live in(its microscopic.). So he abandoned his mission to get to churchgate.

Part 2


Nothing much has happened in this chapter. But Sarang being Sarang, i'm sure he'll screw this up too.

I had to say it.

Big or small, Soft, Fluffy or Stiff, i like them. While here in India women aren't allowed to even show their faces to men outside their family, (probably because their ugly), women in North America are fighting it out to be topless in public places.

http://www.tera.ca/index.html

This is living proof of what I'm trying to say.

The next logical question that arises in my mind is, what if they win?

Well, if these women actually get laws made where they can go topless on the streets of North America, it would be beyond my wildest imagination. (And my imagination runs pretty wild, as some of you may know.)

Consequences of Toplessness-

• Boners anywhere, anytime for men of all ages, creeds, castes, religions and walks of life.
• No tan lines at all. Boobs of Gold literally!
• Closure of bra factories and lingerie models out of work.
• Road accidents.
• Textile mills would be shut down.
• Plastic surgeons becoming the next millionaires.
• People opting for plastic surgery courses instead of computer science.
• Happier people.
• No need for cardio in gyms, everytime u see a naked boob, your heart will go racing.

Huh...

Had to get that off my chest.. (oops!)

America is the land of opportunity (mainly because of Strip Clubs and Adult movie conventions in Las Vegas.) So i always dreamed of going there on a vacation. When i first arrived in Los Angeles i met some "Players". Although i never quite understood what sport they played, they were happy, joyful people. They always kept talking about Sunny Beaches, and Mother Truckers. They never used any grammatical rules, punctuations, conjunctions and twisted the English language, just like the Chittapavans in Ratnagiri.

These players are always listening to Wrap Songs. In wrap songs, the narrator keeps on saying "bitch", "cunt" and "doggy" with some non-sense words inserted between them. He never lets the musicians play their instruments, although the tabalji manages to provide a beat though with much difficulty. Wrap songs remind me of Atal Bihari Vajpayees' speeches. A Vanilla - faced mc called Eminem is the dopest Rapist around they say. All other rapists are tanned whites who run jewellery stores.

The people in America are very friendly. Whenever i ask for a photograph and a smile they show me the middle finger. It is their way of greeting us. So i too wave my middle finger at everyone i see, especially the police and old grannies, as i want to be nice to them.

The american is very respectful of the brown man. Whenever i take a bus and it is full people offer to give me seats and take God's name. I know we are computer experts but this is too much. I think that is because they think we're a mixture of Vanilla Faces and Playas.

The woman of america is very beautiful. But they are wasting their talents. I ask "very nice, how much?", they call cops or call me animal names like "pussy" and "meat", even though i say i will use protection.

Will continue in next post...

Once a guy asked me if i had a friend who was perfect. If he met me today i would answer "Abhay Sane, it is". As I've described to you already in my earlier posts, it is amply clear that he is God. I have a Tee quoting "I was an atheist till i realised i was god." Now i'm gonna change it to "I was an atheist till i realized Abhay was god." He is that good.

Anyways i have lesser fortunate friends also, who are not endowed with Abhay's qualities, but are equally as important in my life. So this post is dedicated to them mostly...

A friend is a person who likes you inspite of your faults. (Sometimes for your faults also!!!)

So this goes out to all my friends...

• Even though you're going to a summer camp with your 11 year old brother and other such pre - adolescents, and you have no shame admitting it, (and you being a 19 yr old), you're still my friend.

• Even though you never made it to Churchgate (the railways kicked u out at marine lines, hahahaha), you're still my friend.

• Even though you're dating a toddler who eats cerelac and wears huggies, you're still my friend.

• Even though you're obsessed with a girl who dumped you thrice, and used you as a porter, courier boy, etc. for 39 years while dating other men, you're still my friend.

• Even though The Math fucked ur ass soooo hard, that you probably have a perforated ANUS, you're still my friend.

• Even though you Hit on every girl you lay your eyes upon, you're still my friend.

• Even though your backbone is crushed to a million little pieces, you're still my friend.

• Even though ur a MVP soccer superstar, and you didn't even get close to having a female WAG, (even though u shaved your mustache off), you're still my friend.

• Even though ur bald for all practical purposes and weigh about 350 pounds, you're still my friend.

• Even though u appear to be (and most probably are) a member of the gay community, through your words and actions, you're still my friend
  

So all my friends, be proud of your lack of scalp hair(only), your perforated anus', your homosexuality, your crushed backbones, lack of game^2, your pre-puberty girlfriends, and unhealthy obsessions with a member of the opposite sex.

Because in my eyes u are perfect, (less than Abhay ofcourse), and my life would have been joyless, soul-less, and most importantly weedless without you.

Peace Out.

P.S. - U bunch of wussies fell for that sentimental shit i dropped, didn't you. ;-)

Well, i was thrown out of the analytical chemistry lab for no reason on Monday. This got me thinking about how unfair life is.What had i possibly done to annoy HER? i do not know...

How many times in school have you felt like biting your teacher's head off? Well, i don't know about you, but i have a general contempt for all teachers.

Well, after i was thrown out i felt crappy for about 15 min. But then i met some of my friends in the canteen. That made me happy. It is important for every one of us to know that when we are rejected by someone we are not rejected by everyone. I could be myself in front of them. They didn't bother how i behaved because deep down they know that i'm good, caring, helping and innocent. My friends can rely on me. I don't care what mistakes they have made, or how badly they have behaved, ill always help them and support them.


There are times when I think we should be proud to be rejected. Almost anybody who has made a difference in the world has experienced rejection. The Hebrew prophets were rejected. Jesus was rejected. Gandhi and the Dalai Lama were rejected. The abolitionists, the suffragettes, the civil rights marchers were all rejected. You could quickly compile a list of imminent and admirable people and every one of them at some time or another would have experienced rejection. I think there are times when we should be glad we do not fit in.

I am obviously going to face the repercussions of being thrown out in the exams. But i do not worry about that. I live my life fearlessly.

My advice to you is to live your life according to what you feel is right. Dont bother about hurting other people's sentiments and all that stuff. People who are unfair to you will suffer, either directly or indirectly. Live life your own way. You life might be short this way, but it'll be bloody wonderful.

But most importantly -
Dont be a chatya...

AND REMEMBER ALL TEACHERS -

"YOU CAN THROW ADWAIT OUT OF THE LAB, BUT YOU CANT THROW THE LAB OUT OF ADWAIT."

Alternate Nirvana-

After a particularly high dose of herb, i go to bed. I fall asleep. I awaken. The Sun is shining through my window and its rays hurt my eyes. Slowly, i open them. A cool breeze kisses my forehead. I am drawn outdoors.

I step out of my house. The sky seems to be a tall glass of vodka with a lemon slice (probably the sun) squeezed onto it. My eye greedily drinks as much as it can, until my brain feels numb. After a long silence I hear something buzzing in my ear. At first i think its Jefferson Airplane playing their no. ones. But then i hear someone reciting "Ode to Melancholy" by Keats. One of my favorites.

I notice a single tree somewhere in the meadows. I walk towards it. It has all kinds of fruits laden on it. I pluck a banana, 2 apples and a pineapple from it. The pineapple hurts my fingers. I notice them cut and bruised. An angel appears from one of the apples and a green wicked creature from another, as i keep eating the apples. Then the angel and the goblin ram into each other and i see a baby being born.

The baby explodes into a hundred bubbles.

Suddenly i see carnival tents all around me. Freaks, dwarfs, elephants, children sucking on cotton candies. Remember, that at this point i have no money, no friends around and especially no herb. I enter a tent. I see an ugly refugee from the free love generation snorting on his coke. Stay away from powders, Kids.

The pattern on the tent begins to swirl. It forms a revolving passage. I walk through it to a dance hall filled with Proto-Hippies. They are dancing and singing and laughing. One girl has i particularly broad smile. I enter her mouth and find myself in the San Francisco of the middle sixties.

I crash into "consciousness expansion" or you may call it a generation of permanent cripples, failed seekers, who never understood the essential old-mystic fallacy of the herb Culture.

Soumyadeep Ghosh.

Soumyadeep Ghosh is a hero no one knows about. He isn't even in the history books. Some people even doubt whether he has the citizenship of India or not. But you cannot deny the fact that he singlehandedly brought victory to India in world war 1 and 2, and even in the Kargil war of 1857.

From the beginning, Soumyadeep knew he was destined for greatness, although Isha would never be his. This was because he knew Adwait Deshpande. He was born of a Belgian Dad and Mexican mom in East Kanjurmarg. He loved the jews. So he killed Hitler and that was how the Battle of Panipat ended. Soumyadeep wrote many novels under the pen name of P.G. Wodehouse and Agatha Cristie. Soumyadeep taught Martial arts to Bruce Lee, and Tennis to Rod Laver.

Soumyadeep once peed in the Himalays and that gave birth to the holy Ganges. He tripped over once and the Grand Canyon was formed. He travlled down the mississipi with his friend, Huck Finn, and freed all the black slaves. He invented automatic machine guns and cotton candy on the same day. He created the first computer which he still uses today. Neil armstrong and his buddies stayed at Soumyadeep's house on the moon the 1st time they went there.

Then Soumyadeep turned 11.

Like all youth of his age, in East kanjurmarg, He joined a Gang, to get his "props".
He won the beer drinking competition 3 times in a month. Then the worse happened. Isha was kidnapped by the chinese as she was on the verge of finding a cure for prostate cancer. So Soumyadeep rode on his tricycle to China and thus defeating 1000's of ninjas and samurai's rescued her. After that China became a democracy.

Soumyadeep probably saved the world 20 times after that. but since he always used a fake name in battle so no one knows him. He will go unnoticed by time and history, but he will always be my hero and drinking companion as long as he pays. And you can't take that away from us. ( i mean the alcohol.)

"From your first day at school you are cut off from life to make theories”

Taisen Deshimaru

LIFE is the continual exploration of the relationship between the individual and the world. Institutional schooling inverts this process. Our education system progressively alienates the individual from him-Self.
Obedience and imitation require nothing original from the child. Sit, stand, kneel. Accepting blindly other's ideas and behaviour. We submit ourselves to others, not thinking for ourselves.

We are just a Cog in the economic machinery, through years of brainwashing.

Modern education literally sucks the LIFE out of the student.

Men are born ignorant, not stupid; they are made stupid by education”

Bertrand Russell

The Chinese say, to know and not to do is not to know”; therefore it can be reasonably assumed that most students and nearly all academics know nothing.

The definition of success is such that in order to SUCCEED we must imitate. And to imitate is to add to the mountain of (largely irrelevant) technical information that, being abstract, literally draws the student out of direct connection with the world.
Science is Reason’s most gifted child. Science seeks to formulate principles or laws that account for the operations of the natural world. The scientific method is simple:
1. Observe phenomena
2. Formulate a hypothesis to explain the observed phenomena
3. Test hypothesis
This simple schema allows us to see exactly where Science and Reason fit together with Art. The formulation of a hypothesis is an entirely creative and intuitive act; it is Art. In other words Reason, if not grounded in Art, does not work.
If Science is not grounded in Art it loses its direction – the source of its hypotheses. Art is the domain of the Self; it is direct intuitive knowledge. Separated from his-Self the student is a stranger to Art, intuition, creativity and authentic desire.

Conclusion:

The secret to fulfilment, happiness and a better world is there is no secret. After wrestling with the enormous absurdity and frustration of modern life you eventually say: Fuck it! This deep thought is depressing me too much. I just want to enjoy myself”, and ironically you solve your dilemma. You rediscover what you already knew as a child - that happiness is your purpose - and realise that, as an adult, doing what makes you happy is the most revolutionary act imaginable. Oh, and for those solemn souls who think such selfish anarchic pleasure will destroy the world, haven’t you ever noticed that happiness is something that only grows when it is shared?
Rejecting every value, belief and direction that doesn’t emanate from within your-Self is necessary to ‘clear the decks’, so the speak. With this reversal of perspective education becomes a matter of using that which resonates with that within you and ignoring the rest. That is, education becomes part of the Art of living - it becomes part of LIFE.

And what is good, Phaedrus, and what is not good - need we ask anyone to tell us these things?”
Robert Pirsig
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Well people have been bugging me to write about something scientific for a long time. But its just not my cup of tea. I've got many offers from Sci Am and other such magazines for articles but I'm not interested.

Anyways I'll do one just for you (UD public)

But since I'm in UICT, I'll write something about chemistry.

Atoms are the basis of chemistry...

So Atoms is my topic today

ATOMS

What are atoms? Atoms are "particles" so small, people cant see them. Only scientists can. Thats why i want to be a scientist when i graduate. Well since no one has actually seen an atom, we have to keep faith that atoms exist. Just like how we keep faith in 36 crore of our Gods.
And yeah, Atoms are indivisible... Just like Amar, Akbar and Anthony...
They cant be divided... Like India and Pakistan are... or Paul and Heather... or Anil and Mukesh...
Atoms were present on earth a long long time ago. Even before dinosaurs. They are even older than the queen of England!!!
Atoms can be fat and thin .... Just like us...and they have brains called Nucleas's
Atoms also bond man... just like us ... Hetero... Homo and even in groups....
Atoms have charges, positive and negative... So they have friends and enemies just like us...
Atoms have various energy levels.
Eg.
Atom in a classroom = lowest level
Atom at friend's place = medium level
Atom in a bar = Highest level
Atom in a bar with free and unlimited booze = Atom explodes into subatomic particles
Some Atoms are unstable and Decay... They are put into mental institutions
Atoms are found in different states, like high, drunk, sober, depressed, @#$%ed, etc.

Atoms were discovered by Indian Philosophers... I love Indian Philosophers man, they're cool. They just think, and do nothing. No experiments, no logic. Basically they've taken a chill pill and don't bother proving their ideas to others. Just my kinda people.

This concept was then Stolen by one Mr. John Dalton. And other White people added their nonsense to it.

This is all i know about atoms. Hope it has been very educational to you.

Cheers,
Adwait Deshpande

We meet Boring people everyday, everywhere we go. Frankly, life is too short to endure Boring people. They suck the joy out of our life. They can turn a good mood into a bad one. They make our good jokes look crappy and bring us down in any way they can, just because they aren't as good as us.

Personally, I would rather be around people who are fully engaged in their life experience with lots of energy, strength of character and interesting things to talk about. I would like to be around people who will have personality, humor and are just plain fun to be around.

So the Fundamental Problem is -

HOW DO WE AVOID BORING PEOPLE?

• Whenever they come near you, pretend that you are talking on the phone. (U cant do this every time.)
• Try to act as if you are in a hurry, or you remembered to do something important.
• Always say you have other plans, even if they maybe be to curl up on the sofa and watch T.V.

Some people are so clingy that they refuse to leave your side, even for a minute, and they don't get the picture that u aren't interested.
The above mentioned methods wont work for them.

There is only one way to get rid of such people. Insult them time and again in front of everybody.
Although it will be difficult to do so in the beginning, you will enjoy humiliating them later. (This is my personal experience.)

These are my thoughts on Boring People and How to avoid them....

But i need your inputs too, so gimme some new, innovative ideas.

Until then, Goodbye.

I make resolutions each year. And each year i complete them successfully.

Since no one reads this blog anyways, people wont know of my new year resolutions. So if i mess up, cats wont pop up and nag me about them.

So 2009,

This is what i have to offer.

• I will bath as less as possible and conserve more water.
• I will use more deodorant and do less laundry.
• I will not tell the same story at every get together.
• I will not embarress my friends in public places.
• I will not by-heart jokes and pass them of as my own.
• I will attend as many lectures as i can.
• I will not call people names, although they thoroughly deserve them.
• I will not call other people boring, although we all know they are.
• I will behave myself in all places.
• I will not swear in English. It is an insult to my mother-tongue which has the best abusers any language can have.
• I will not trouble little children playing arcade games.
• I will not call anyone "Gavwala", "Gavthi", etc. It hurts their feelings.
• I will not look down upon people who do not understand my jokes. (I know I'm gifted and everyone is not bestowed with that kind of wit)
• I will drive safely.
• I will not eat half eaten bananas put away for 3 days.
• I will not mock nerds.
• I will NOT go to lonavla.
• I will be happy and cheerful, and try to make everyone else happy and cheerful around me.

The last one was a little senti....
sorry...

Anyways best of luck for 2009,

Get Rich, Get Pussy, Be Fresh, Be a Player!
Cya in 2010 ...

We be “Rolling Stoned”, and I aint talking bout “Classic Rock”,
Climbing Fastest to the top, feelin all inhibitions Drop,
When we smoke the POT, feels like a Bison hit the chest,
Then we Puff some more joint and pass it to the left.

When I’m high my vision is blurred and hazed,
The brains A Maze, all confused and dazed,
The Dopes a blessing, Hits u harder than Ali,
Wounds u’d be dressing, with Happyness and glee.

We get high on GRASS, like folks at wimbledon,
Fly to Mt. Everest, Glide thru the Grand Canyon,
We no good without out it, the Magnificent Shit.
It’s big, larger than life, like Pam’s Silicon tits.

- Adwait Deshpande

I have recently seen many paintings of Picasso and Modigliani, online of course. I wish to share with you what i feel about them. I am no art critic so please bear with my ignorance if i have missed out on anything.

Modigliani had a deep respect for Picasso as an artist. He used some aspects of Picasso's cubism, and the way Picasso would depict his artistic friends during his blue period would remain one of the main themes in Modigliani's own work.

Pablo Picasso's Blue Period refers to a series of paintings in which the color blue dominates and which he painted between 1901 and 1904. The blue period is a marvelous expression of poetic subtlety and personal melancholy and contributes to the transition of Picasso's style from classicism to abstract art.

Picasso's style is a fascinating synthesis of many of the important styles in modern art, in which he "borrowed" from many of his contempories, and in Modigliani's case he would borrow from a man who had initially borrowed from him.

No-one neither disputes the expressionist quality of Modigliani's art, nor will many disagree that Vincent van Gogh is the arch-father of expressionism. It therefore seems unlikely that Van Gogh was not a major influence on Modigliani and there is ample evidence that he was.

In Modigliani's painting Jeanne Hébuterne wearing a straw hat the influence of Van Gogh is clearly visible by the prominent monochrome background, the thick, dark contours, the course, expressive brush strokes in the straw hat and the flatness of most of the painting.

If you look at Picasso's painting Les Demoiselles d'Avignon then you'll see faces that are crude, and made that even the artistic avant garde would doubt his sanity. It was Modigliani who introduced subtlety to abstract portraiture and it took Picasso decades to construct his version of a mature style of abstract portraiture, which had come naturally to Modigliani.

One of the best examples of Modigliani's style is his painting Jeanne Hébuterne wearing a straw hat. One of the key-elements of Modigliani's portraitism were the slanted heads, derived from Byzantine cariatides. However, the eyes and mouth are almost horizontal and the curvature of the nose makes it almost vertical. Regardless of these artefacts, the portrait is still as subtle and descriptive as a figurative portrait but has the directness and expression of abstract art. The portrait's subtlety is due to Modigliani's unique talent, but it's essence, the facial construction is one of the most important artistic inventions of modern art.



Picasso would go on schematize Modigliani's facial constructions, which would become the key-element of his own style and what people associate Picasso with, today. This schematized version of Modigliani's style would prove to be far more copyable and hence of far greater direct influence, but would never attain Modigliani's artistic maturity and subtlety, nor would it result in portraits that accurately resembled the subject, as Modigliani's portraits did.

I am now studying the CUBISM style of painting invented by Georges Braque and Picasso.

These 5 artists have given me so much pleasure all my life. They have been my companions whenever i was lonely or sad. I cannot let a single day pass until i hear one of their songs. They are truly gifted and put all their soul into their music which makes it divine.

Pandit Bhimsen Joshi, who is riding the crest of popularity and has ridden it for the last several years, is a musical marvel. His singing invariably provides listeners with a divine musical ex- perinea. Many of his rivals admit, though unwillingly, that today there is no other vocalist comparable to him in the entire nation.

Bhimsen, who is now in his 60s, has attained proficiency and fame that astound the musical world. His voice, like that legendary philosopher's stone, turns every note into a golden one. Billions of notes that have received the golden touch of his voice have been freely showered by him on the teeming millions of his fans. His unswerving faith in an intense devo- tion to his guru have been his keys to success.

Bhimsen is a versatile singer; he is an expert in khayal singing but he is also adept in the presentation of thumris, songs from plays, or devotional compositions. His lilting thumris (Jadu bhareli, Piya ke milan ki aas or Babul mora) and his innumerable popular Abhangs composed by the saints of Maharashtra are instances in point.

• Padma Vibhushan in 1999
• Karnataka Ratna in 2005
• Padma Bhushan in 1985
• Padma Shree in 1972
• The Sangeet Natak Akademi Award in 1976
• First platinum disc in 1986
• Maharashtra Bhushan award by Govt. of Maharashtra

Bhimsen is a prodigy - unique - a divine miracle. We should admire his tremendous accomplishments in the realm of music, revel in the heavenly experience of his gayaki and pray to God Almighty to bless this musical genius with a long life. In the whole of India there is no one else who has atained so much and given so much to music lovers. Listeners in he U.S.A. and the U.K. love and admire him.

Stevie Wonder (born Stevland Hardaway Judkins on May 13, 1950, name later changed to Stevland Hardaway Morris)^[1] is an American singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and record producer. A prominent figure in popular music during the latter half of the 20th century , Wonder has recorded more than thirty top ten hits, won 26 Grammy Awards^[2] (a record for a solo artist), plus one for lifetime achievement, won an Academy Award for Best Song and been inducted into both the Rock and Roll and Songwriters halls of fame. He has also been awarded the Polar Music Prize.

Blind from infancy, Wonder signed with Motown Records as a pre-adolescent at age twelve, and continues to perform and record for the label to this day. He has ten U.S. number-one hits on the pop Charts, 20 U.S. R&B number one hits, and album sales totaling more than 150 million units. Wonder has recorded several critically acclaimed albums and hit singles, and writes and produces songs for many of his label mates and outside artists as well. Wonder plays the piano, synthesizer, harmonica, congas, drums, bongos, organ, melodica, and clavinet. In his early career, he was best known for his harmonica work, but today he is better known for his keyboard skills and vocal ability.

The son of a German-Jewish Holocaust survivor but raised as a Roman Catholic in a middle-class suburb on Long Island, New York, Joel was steered toward classical music by his parents and began piano lessons at age 4. At age 14, enamoured of the British Invasion and soul music, he began playing in bands. With the Hassels, he recorded two albums in the late 1960s, and a stint in the heavy metal duo Attila followed.

In 1971, recast as a singer-songwriter, Joel recorded the poorly produced Cold Spring Harbor for Family Productions, which locked him into an exploitative long-term contract. Seeking refuge in Los Angeles, he performed under a pseudonym in a local piano bar. Meanwhile, a live recording of Joel's song “Captain Jack” caught the attention of Columbia Records executives, who extricated him from his contract. His first album for Columbia, Piano Man (1973), featured a hit single of the same name; based on his piano bar experience, it became his signature song. Mixtures of soul, pop, and rock, Piano Man and Joel's subsequent albums—Streetlife Serenade (1974) and Turnstiles (1976)—earned praise from critics and set the stage for The Stranger (1977). Featuring four U.S. hit singles (one of which, “Just the Way You Are,” won Grammy Awards for song of the year and record of the year), it sold five million copies, surpassing Simon and Garfunkel's Bridge Over Troubled Water to become Columbia's best-selling album to date.

Michael Joseph Jackson (born August 29, 1958) is an American musician, entertainer and businessman. The seventh child of the Jackson family, he debuted on the professional music scene at the age of 11 as a member of The Jackson 5 and began a solo career in 1971 while still a member of the group. Referred to as the "King of Pop" in subsequent years, five of his solo studio albums have become some of the world's best-selling records: Off the Wall (1979), Thriller (1982), Bad (1987), Dangerous (1991) and HIStory (1995).

In the early 1980s, he became a dominant figure in popular music and the first African-American entertainer to amass a strong crossover following on MTV. The popularity of his music videos airing on MTV, such as "Beat It", "Billie Jean" and Thriller—credited for transforming the music video into an art form and a promotional tool—helped bring the relatively new channel to fame. Videos such as "Black or White" and "Scream" kept Jackson as a staple on MTV into the 1990s. With stage performances and music videos, Jackson popularized a number of physically complicated dance techniques, such as the robot and the moonwalk. His distinctive musical sound and vocal style influenced numerous hip hop, pop and contemporary R&B artists.

Jackson has donated and raised millions of dollars for beneficial causes through his Dangerous World Tour, charity singles and support of 39 charities. However, other aspects of his personal life—including his changing appearance and eccentric behavior—generated significant controversy which damaged his public image. He was accused of child sexual abuse in 1993, the criminal investigation was closed due to lack of evidence and Jackson was not charged. He then married twice and fathered three children, all of which caused further controversy. The singer has experienced health concerns since the early 1990s and conflicting reports regarding the state of his finances since the late 1990s. In 2005, Jackson was tried and acquitted of further sexual abuse allegations and several other charges.

One of the few artists to have been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame twice, his other achievements include multiple Guinness World Records—including one for Thriller as the world's best-selling album—13 Grammy Awards, 13 number one singles in his solo career—more than any other male artist in the Hot 100 era—and the sale of over 750 million units worldwide. Jackson's highly publicized personal life, coupled with his successful career, has made him a part of popular culture for almost four decades. In recent years he has been cited as one of the world's most famous men.

Bing Crosby

Harry Lillis “Bing” Crosby (May 3, 1903 – October 14, 1977) was an Academy Award winning American popular singer and actor whose career lasted from 1926 until his death.

One of the first multimedia stars, from 1934 to 1954 Bing Crosby held a nearly unrivaled command of record sales, radio ratings, and motion picture grosses.^[1] He is cited among the most popular musical acts in history and is currently the most electronically recorded human voice in history. ^[2] Crosby is also credited as being the major inspiration for most of the male singers of the era that followed him, including Frank Sinatra, Perry Como, and Dean Martin. Yank magazine recognized Crosby as the person who had done the most for American G.I. morale during World War II and, during his peak years, around 1948, polls declared him the "most admired man alive," ahead of Jackie Robinson and Pope Pius XII.^[1][3] Also during 1948, the Music Digest estimated that Crosby recordings filled more than half of the 80,000 weekly hours allocated to recorded radio music.^[3] Clarinetist Artie Shaw described Crosby as "the first hip white person born in the United States."^[4]

Crosby exerted an important influence on the development of the postwar recording industry. In 1947, he invested US$50,000 in the Ampex company, which developed the world's first commercial reel-to-reel tape recorder, and Crosby became the first performer to pre-record his radio shows and master his commercial recordings on magnetic tape. He gave one of the first Ampex Model 200 recorders to his friend, musician Les Paul, which led directly to Paul's invention of multitrack recording. Along with Frank Sinatra, he was one of the principal backers behind the famous United Western Recorders studio complex in Los Angeles.^[5]

In 1962, Crosby was the first person to receive the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.^[6]

Crosby is one of the few people to have three stars on the walk of of fame.