I am a superhero but I am not muscular

I am a superhero but I am not popular

I am a superhero but I am not the ghost who walks

I am a superhero but I am not the one who stalks

I am a superhero because I made someone happy

I am a superhero because I made someone smile

I am a superhero because I helped someone in need

I am a superhero because super are my deeds

I am a superhero because I decided it was time to change the past

I am a superhero because I wanted to fly the flag of happiness on my mast

You need not have to fly or wear a cape to be one

All you need is to spread goodness just like the sun

EarnKarma.org is a free online web service that helps individuals
and organizations to post opportunities that require any kind of assistance.
EarnKarma.org connects them with millions of people who would like to assist in
any possible way. For instance, if an organization is conducting a medical camp
in a village and would like to ask individual(s) for any kind of assistance,
they can do by it posting such opportunities in our website. We require your
assistance in spreading the message so that change can reach most number of
them.

Why are we doing what we are doing?

Today's tough and challenging world makes it difficult for Non Profit/Non
Governmental Organizations and people to get assistance from general public
because either an organization does not have a place to post their
opportunities or people (who are eager to help) do not know where to find such
opportunities

The idea was
to connect two sets of people, the 'Seekers' and the 'Givers'. We are sure that
more often than not, you find yourself in a situation where you are asked a favour,
big or small, by someone.a friend.a relative.or sometimes even a rank
stranger.. and you happily oblige, if you cannot.we are sure you at least try
to.. Doesn't it make you feel good when you were of help to someone? Now
imagine if you can do the same to any person in the world, whom you think deserves
to be helped. This is what we do.

Why EarnKarma?

Everybody is
in the rush to earn money, to earn fame but not in the rush to help somebody.
We want everybody to Earn Karma. For us Karma means good and what better thing
in life to earn than goodness. We registered the domain name EarnKarma.org
The karmic wheel had already been set in motion, and we have willingly come
forward to keep it moving and now it is your turn to join us and help change
lives.

How did EarnKarma begin?

It began
with a simple telephonic conversation between 2 friends during a mundane office
day. One of them had volunteered for a good cause and was discussing about the
same to the other. They searched for the terms-'volunteering', 'helping', and
'assistance' over the internet and found a lot of results leading to complex
websites and the 2 of them wondered why in this day and age of a cyber-powered
world, there wasn't a simple portal to serve the cause. It was then, that they
decided to take it upon themselves to start a website of their own. As we said
earlier, the karmic wheel was in motion. Everything that you see and do on
EarnKarma is a process to keep the karmic wheel in motion.

What does EarnKarma expect?

That's a
pretty complicated question. But if you have read this far we are sure you
already have an inclination to help someone.so why not do that and be part of
the answer ? ..So go out and help someone today .As the great Mahatma Gandhi
said "Be the change that you would like to see". Oh! and another thing, if you
feel that somebody has to be helped but cannot post his/her request on
EarnKarma, please take the responsibility of doing it.

The hand holding it is
surrounded by an armed brother

The flame in the torch
burns, giving new hope to the souls battered

They smelt the fire
too well, that is what mattered.

The lama, smart and
wise

Chose the right time
to rise

The torch runs in
every major city, burning on and off

The motherland tries
to suppress them, only to see their bloody red cough

People one after the
other pull out of the run

After a long period of
darkness, rises the sun

Leaders realise the
crimes committed, the lives lost

The games are a result
of history's human cost

The reds go red with
anger

Sadly,the issue is not
too big to park it in their newly constructed airport hangar

The games will go on,
medals will be won, emotions on the field like the seasons

Only time will tell if
the games were for the right reasons

Had to shrug off the cobwebs from my brain to
write this piece after a long time.

Hope the reader connected with
this!

I am what you call a khabri,a person who passes
on information to the police on the location and whereabouts of my
gangster boss. Yes, like the old Hindi movies, I too had a widowed
mother and a young sister who was unmarried despite being of the age to
do so.

I had to take odd jobs as I was 'uneducated', (not educated enough to work in a blue collar job.)

A Good Samaritan, Tinku Bearingwala showed sympathy on
me and inducted me in his gang.We were a gang of three who performed
'hafta-vasooli' (getting the local traders to pay up for 'protection'.
Protection from us!)Our gang was small as we worked in a small but
wealthy locality of the town. And folks were scared enough to hand over
the money to us without any problems. Years passed by and I was able to
up the standard of my family's life.I indulged in hollywood movies,
theatres and books. I was reading on a wide variety of topics to
improve my "General knowledge".I had no intention to marry.

When you marry, the so called sympathetically side of yours shows up and tries

to awake the 'good' person in you. Nope, not my cup of tea or coffee or whisky.

I was a cunning fellow. I wanted more, more of everything under the sun, especially money-the one with the Bapu's photo on it. They smelled good, especially the 500 and the 1000 rupee notes.

The local bar proved to be the perfect setting. I met a police constable, Chaube
and during drinks, I shared withhim my desire to earn more. If you are
wondering how I was talking to a police fellow, well in the drinks bar,
it was an unwritten law. Every mortal was the same. Only the liquor was
placed higher.

I stuck an agreement with him. I became a khabri. Yes
like Di Caprio in the Oscar winning 'Departed'. For one lakh rupees, I
got the other member of my gang killed. Well, he was going to die any
way. Someone or the other benefits from somebody else's death. Why not
me?

Boss and I were the only members left. Chaube's boss
had offered me fifty lakh rupees to cheat on my boss. Fifty lakh
rupees! That was a lot of money. I started dreaming about my sister's
marriage, my own house and a Bajaj pulsar. I immediately agreed. I
asked him to bring the police to an address that I wrote down for him
on the back of the paper.The prize money on Tinku"s head was one crore
and that fat idiot had robbed me of the other half. Well, you cannot
have everything. Can you? This was enough

The time had come. Tinku and I were held up in the
room. He looked out of form the whole day as if some thing bad was
going to happen to him today. I was the architect of his day. Tinku
said-'Chela, You have been a good friend and a companion to me. But why did you do this'.

I was shocked. He knew that I had set him up. 'Boss, what are you talking about? I have no idea.'

'Do not lie to me. I was there when you spoke to that fat idiot, Chaube.'

'Well, I cannot act further more. I am sorry boss. I had to do it. My sister had to get married. My home needed repairs.'

'Now that you have done it, I have nothing to say. You have done what you had to do. You could have asked me for the money.'

The police team was intently listening to the
conversation outside the room. They were 4 of them. Each one had an
AK-47 rifle along with an additional magazine. They wore green bullet
proof jackets. The radio was kept on silent so as not to disturb the
stealth nature of the operation.

Inside the room, the conversation continued. Tinku went
on ranting about how I had back stabbed him. I reminded him that he
might have done the same to someone else too. If you are wondering why
Tinku had attacked me, he never carried a weapon and was too frail to
attack me. He was one of those guys whose name evoked fear

manifold times than his presence.

'Chela, I leave the enterprise in
your hands. Make it big'. He sounded like Dhirubhai Ambani and I was
Anil Ambani.Heck. 'Boss, thank you.' I fell on his feet for his
blessings. I hit the empty box lying on the ground in process. That was
the signal. The police would rush in five minutes. I had to get out.

I pushed the boss and ran from the back door. I met
Chaube on the way. He handed me the fifty lakh rupee in a black
suitcase. It was the same configuration that I had asked for. The smell
of money was irresistible. I took it and ran. 'He is inside. He's all
yours.'

The police stormed the room. 'Hands up' they shouted in
unison like the Italian orchestra.The room was deserted except for the
broken box and the mirror.

The Spencer plaza junction is world famous in Madras (I do not like the word Chennai.).

Why world famous? You can meet a person of any nationality here in a particular period of time. The time period is your decision. It is akin to the Times Square. It lacks only the huge neon advertising lights that the latter has.

The sun was beating down and the traffic was pouring in from the north side and the east side. The north side has a lot of buses and the other side has the more expensive cars, a clear indication of the divide in the society in those directions. Added to the noise and clamor was the non stop wailing of the siren atop the white ambassador car. Some one high and mighty was traveling in that. How I wished I could drag him out of the car and give him a whack. Ah Poetic justice!

This was my work time. My father left a decent enough legacy so that I could pursue something that was mentally stimulating, ignoring the economics of the activity. I love the phrase mentally stimulating. It brings out the do Vinci's, the Van Gogh's and the Mozart's of the world in your (the reader) small brain.

Like the quarry (prey) that I have been observing for the past ten days. My job is pretty simple. Spot your target market, develop skills to address them and then sell them their ultimate product. You can make a killing. Not like the Indian stock market though.

Even the C.KPrahlad's of the world dare not disagree with my strategy. I have no respect for the business school professors. Why somebody must be paid an obscene amount to tell me that 1+1 = 2. Food for thought eh.

My target was the educated youth of today. They seem to have an understanding for everything, a reason and logic for every f***ing thing. They sounded like deep purple and Kurt cobain lecturing a novice on drugs.

We know what happens

We know why it happens

We know how it happens

Because we make it happen

That was their song. Idiots. I belonged to a generation older than theirs. The generation of revolution, the generation of struggle.

Coming back, my target studied in a college and attended some MBA coaching class. He was a typical college kid, crew cut, Armstrong band on his hand and a funky mobile phone in his hand. His fingers were all over the phone, as if he was moving his hands over something that was living and belonged to the other sex. I was ten feet behind him. The man in the traffic signal turned read with anger. Stop, he said to everyone. But they disapproved and stared crossing. He crossed too. Strike one!

A car crossed with the wailing siren crossed at the same time. It was the additional judge, the man of law.Hmm my next quarry. I waited for the man in the signal to turn happy and green He took his own time but he did become happy. I crossed the pedestrian crossing and searched frantically for my target market.

I ran, I moved like Jason Bourne, I swayed like bond and I found him finally. He was at the vendor nearby. I went close enough to hear him talk. I loved people talking. 'One Kings and one chlormint', he said, thrusting the exact amount into the vendor's hands. Damn you cigarette companies. Another rupee to your bottom-line and the topline.

I fidgeted with the pay phone nearby. He smoked and dropped the butt on the ground, stamping it with his feet. Strike two!

One of the most similar things bout public places in India is that they inevitably turn into public pissing corners. Yes P-I-S-S-I-N-G corner. The thing that you do in your toilet. They smelled of piss and tobacco. All the perfume makers together cannot come out with a perfume that smells worse.

He moved to the pissing point, not the tipping point. Most of you readers think only about the tipping point. Add this to your jargon (P-I-S-S-I-N-G P-O-I-N-T) and go take a hike. He unzipped his fly and took his organ out. The trickle turned into a stream. Strike three.

I moved near him deftly and asked him if he knew what he was doing. He continued unabashed. I took out the hallucinating agent and sprayed a oh so little on his face. The stream turned into a trickle and it stopped. He fell on the ground. Limp. Passer by's never notice anything other than what is in front of them. I lifted him, placed one hand on his shoulder and crossed the road. Only when the man in the signal was happy and green. Principles, mine.

My laboratory was a mobile one. A maruti van fitted with CNG fuel kit so that it did not pollute. The van is a highly customizable vehicle. I had modified the interiors to make them soundproof. Nothing came in and nothing went out. I removed him from my shoulders and placed him on the rear seat and closed the door.

A splash of water on his face and he was awake. He mumbled-'Where am I? Who are you?'. My batman mask covered my face and left no clue to on lookers. That was my laboratory costume. I replied 'I am a representative of the Institute of Public behavior.'

He was hallucinating and asked-'I have not heard of that. I know IIT, IIM.Is it a government institute?'

I laughed. The current generation and their fascination with anything starting with 'I'. I gave him a pamphlet of my institute. I asked him to read the motto aloud. He read- 'To save the country from filth and muck.' He turned to the next page. To his horror, he discovered his photos, one at the t-nagar junction spitting pan masala, the other at adyar bus depot smoking, at Broadway bus stand, pissing in all his glory. His face went white and he probably wet his pants. He pissed.

I was reading from my lab manual aloud.

Aim: To clean the filth from the road

Apparatus required: A cactus, few leeches and the specimen.

Procedure: You know it.

I took the cacti and the leeches from the box and placed it next to the specimen. He was tied all over, leaving an opening near his eyes and mouth. I slowly rolled the cacti on his bare arms. He kept shouting. 'No point mate! This is sound proof. No one can hear you.' The leeches went on his face and started their job. They became fat with every passing second; I loved their sense of time and their efficiency.

Blood started trickling and then flowed like the river flowing from the glacier. I spoke-'Do you know Baseball? You must. What I am playing is very similar. If you miss three pitches, strike three and you are out. Here, you break my rules thrice and you are out. But there you end up in the team locker. Here you end up in the gutter. Three strikes and you are out. Out! Out! Out!. He was on the way to meet the maker.

I started the engine and drove to my home in the suburbs. My pets were waiting for their share of the prey.

P.S: You can see a white maruti van going around the city masked as a call taxi. One of them is mine and I hope you are not my next prey. So be careful, very careful when you do something that I do not like.

At 10.40 pm are you thinking of me?
Or are you thinking of the other person who betrayed you

At 10.40 pm are you level headed?
has the spirit left you enchanted
to leave the bitter taste behind to a sweeter palette
to kill the person who did all the stuff to you with a machette

At 10.40 pm are you sane ?
Are you attempting to jump out of the window to fly like the kite
Are you thinking of who you actually can be?
Are you thinking of giving somebody a fight?

At 10.40 pm are you the same person that I left behind, I yearned to
To find a better life which was never there
to find a better person than you
To erase you from my mind
Which I never could

At 10.40 pm I ask you to be with me again
To seek the answers together, joy and pain

At 10.40 pm I have to stop, my heart is too sore
Coz the time is 10.40 pm no more

P.S.I wrote this poem at 10.40 in the night and hence the title..

Raju
swung into action. The boiling milk was sending waves of steam in the
air. He poured the tea concentrate into the glass, dark and hot. The
aroma of tea filled the air. He dipped a small cup into the boiling
milk and then added it to the tea, stirring it. The sugar dabba was
closed. He held the glass and went to see Rahim chacha.

'What happened Rahim Chacha?'-he asked

'I have been ruined. My wife no longer wants to live with me'

'Why? What happened all of a sudden after ten years?'

'I was drunk last night and uttered the word - Talaq thrice in a fit of rage'

'Oh Allah, What did you do!'

'I have
been asking Allah and her forgiveness from the time I woke up but they
do not seem to be in the mood to forgive me. How will I ever survive?
She was my strength'

'Hold this glass of tea and I will help you'-said Raju

He picked up a piece
of paper and wrote something on it. He handed the paper to chacha.He
read it and then asked,' will it work?'Raju smiled and said-'Zaroor.It
will. Say it with a lot of love in your eyes and she will be yours
again. Drink the tea.'

Chacha sipped the tea.Raju; this is the best tea that I have had.
Perfect chai! Here is the 4 rupees for the tea.Raju put the coins in
his pocket and waved goodbye to chacha.
Dawn turned into dusk and Raju was engrossed in his mundane duties. He
completed his evening puja.The fragrance of agarbathis and the lamp had
descended into the corner of the stall, purifying it.

There was
a commotion outside. People ran out and noises were heard.Raju ran out.
The local milkman had met with an accident with the poet and were now
arguing on who will pay the compensation for the milk spilt. 'People',
Raju sighed and continued with his chores.Raghava came into the tea
stall, sweating profusely.' Why does everyone have to sweat profusely
when they come here' - wondered Raju.Raghava's daughter had eloped from
home and married a person of another caste, highly unacceptable by her
father.

Raghavan was very sad and asked Raju for a tea.Raju prepared the tea.
The sugar dabba was closed. He handed Raghavan the tea and asked
him-'What happened?'

'My
daughter ran away with Narendar, the fisher man from the other
vaillage.He does not belong to my caste. I have lost everything, my
prestige. The village folk will now look down at me.'

'Nahin
Raghavan, You are committing a mistake. She had to run away because you
would never have accepted her love. You must be fortunate that your
daughter has been able to experience the best gift of God, love'

'You are
wrong Raju; you have never had a daughter. What do you know about the
pain of a daughter eloping with someone?' Raghavan continued angrily.

Silence
descended for two minutes.Raju then said,' Five years back when I came
to this town to establish my tea stall here, I was in your position. My
daughter had eloped and I was very angry. Angry enough to hunt her down
and kill her. I was ashamed and I left the town soon after. On my way
to this town, I met a traveling saint. He asked the reason for my
misery and I said so. He guffawed at me and Said,'Beta,Your are a
fortunate father because your daughter has been able to experience the
best gift of God, Love. Forgive her and you shall also experience the
same.'

When Raju
turned around, Raghavan had left. The tea stall had become silent
again. A few days later, chacha came running to the tea stall. He
hugged Raju and said-'you are truly my savior said and did what was
written on the parchment. My wife is mine again. May Allah bless you
for seven generations'; he planted a kiss on Raju's forehead.

A few
hours later, Raghavan came to the tea stall with two visitors, his
daughter and his son in law. Raghavan looked at Raju.Their eyes talked.
few moments later, a tear filled Raghavan hugged Raju and asked him to
make three teas.

The tea was the same, without any sugar.Chottu was baffled to see that people liked the tea her despite no sugar.

Chotu later asked
Raju,'Bhaiya, give me twenty rupees. I will buy two kilos of sugar. The
sugar dabba has been empty for a long time and you have not noticed it.
How do the people like the tea here? No sugar at all.'

Raju on hearing this laughed and replied-' sweetness is not in the sugar but in your words and actions'

Out of the blue skies, she arrived,morning sun kissed sapphire,
silver jewels, golden hair and eyes that shone like diamonds.

When she smiled, my heart skipped a beat, my eyes were fixed at those pearls,
my life was entwined in one of her golden curls.

The thought of talking to her made me sweat, my hands shiver
No arrows left in cupid's quiver

I went up to her,only to smell her incense, her perfume
She was the sweetest thing, if I ever could consume

I wanted to ask her if she would be my partner in glory and defeat,
Will she ever want to be the queen in my quest.

I lacked the courage , I lacked the charm to sweep her off her feet
I shrugged my shoulders, consoling myself that this was life's deceit.

Unkown to her, I snapped a picture of her's
Kept it close to my heart for many years

Somethings,Sometimes never remain yours forever
What remained with me was a faint memory and a photograph that will fade never.

Truly yours has decided to compile a list of manias and phobias that we (Indians)
suffer from. The list is not exhaustive. Feel free to add to it.

Manias:

Honk-O-Mania:

We honk once for every two seconds we spend on the driving wheel/ handle bar of
a motor vehicle.



Spit-O-Mania:

We spit for every ten meters we walk.

SaasBahu & Chithi Mania:

Do I have to explain this????

Mobile-O-Mania:

I once lived in an era where the only means of communication was the green
color rotating dial chubby phone with the analog ring tone. Fast forward to
today, the plumber comes to my home and I find a phone ringing, thought it must
have been mine but to my surprise, the plumber pulls out his ultra sleek, ultra
modern phone.Aaargh!

Lays, chips and French fries-O-mania:

I read it in a paper sometime that a company in Gujarat was planning to build Asia's most modern plant to make POTATO chips. They would
process 9 tonnes of potatoes into Chips.9 tonnes an hour??? Well the kids of
this generation and so too the elders cannot live without the 'CHIP'. We are
the chip of the new block.

DINK-O-Mania:

For folks who do not know what DINK is, let me illuminate. DINK is a species of
homosapiens that does not like to grow a family. Both the husband and the wife
earn and burn but do not yearn for the kid. That's good news. India's
population ticker does need some rest.

Underthetable-O-Mania:

We do anything and everything under the table. We are the mother, the father,
the child and the grand parents of the phrase-'Under the table'.

Gyan Professing-O-Mania:

Yours truly is a genius in this. Need I say more?? (P.S.this is an exercise in
the mania)

Breaking News-O-Mania:

A few years back, this mania was non-existent. But now, this is everywhere.
Every channel on the idiot box says so.

Breaking News-Hannef's plane takes off

Breaking News-Haneef's drinks water in the plane.

Breaking News-Haneef takes a leak.

Breaking News-Give me a break.

SEZ-O-Mania:

All the land will one day become a SEZ. Heck, India will itself become a Special
Economic Zone. Wow

Riot-O-Mania:

We are country that gave the world kamasutra, yoga, zero and few anti-heroes.

We riot for anything and everything.Probabaly it has become the best way to
draw the attention of people whose attention we seek. Breaking news, I said.

Sycophancy-O-Mania:

When I drive around the city, trees, buildings and Posters of leaders greet
me.Posters???The leaders profess that they have nothing to do with the
beautification drive affected by their supporters. I believe.

Phobias now

Tax-O-Phobia:

We are afraid of paying tax. We must rightly be. The roads have not changed a
percent since you first started paying tax. The cost of life has increased.
They attribute it to liquidity. So my solution: Suck the liquidity by not paying
the taxes. I am a genius.

Sex Education-O-Phobia:

We fear if our children are imparted with sex education, they might ask the
parents questions that they have no answer too and then they would have to
consult their parents who would have no answer too. Things are fine the way
they are. Let us not disturb the balance.



SameSex/OppositeSex Marriage-O-Phobia:

We are afraid of same sex marriages. Acceptable. Who would not be??

But opposite sex marriage?? If a Hindu marries a Christian, Siva and Jesus save
the couple.



PractisingWhatWePreach-O-Phobia:

We talk and talk and talk. But when it comes to walking the talk, we are people
without legs.

DarkSkin-O-Phobia:

We hate everything dark despite living in a tropical country. We import ladies
from Europe to do our advertisements to sell
goods to dark people. Irony.

West-O-Phobia:

We fear the west for all things. We follow their practice and then blame them.

Did they ask us to follow??

Truth-O-Phobia:

Nobody likes truth. Even me. Truth is bitter but you got to face it one day.

Be prepared.