BackPunch

                                                      BACK PUNCH www.backpunch.in Back Punch is excited to let you know that we have moved from www.nairgoks.blogspot.in to our very own domain which is www.backpunch.in . Although not much design has been incorporated, everything is in the pipeline, right from little design tweaks as well as the introduction of a logo. All the posts and comments have been successfully transferred to the new domain. The new domain is hosted by www.hostgator.in and their support staff have been of great help. I, personally would like to thank the major contributor, AVB for her ideas and constructive criticism and also Ajith Aravind, Ameya Dusane, Komal Kokare and Sreerag Nair for the posts where their names have been mentioned as courtesy. Let the contributions keep coming in We would also like to than...

It was her parent’s death anniversary. She woke up at around 4 am, made a cup of coffee and walked into her balcony. She felt the fresh breeze and the steam coming out of the piping hot coffee. She wasn't crying. It’d been four years since their demise. She had cried enough. She kept doing a good deed on their death anniversary. She always got the opportunity to do one. Instead of waiting for one, Tantra thought about going to the nearby orphanage and spend some time with the kids.  She wore the Kerala Set-Sari and set off to the orphanage. Tantra went off on her scooterette. She expected to have a fun-filled day with the kids. She was one amongst them. Her bright white sari made an impression in the bright sun. She crossed the signal and was about a couple of kilometers away from the orphanage when a man riding on a bike spat. The wind pushed the spit onto Tantra’s sari and dark red stains covered a good portion of the sari. She yelled. The man looked...

The spirits inside his brain started to erupt. He didn’t know what he was doing. He ripped off his shirt and started behaving like a maverick. He started coughing and the traces of spit coming out of his mouth were red in colour. It was blood. He rolled up another round of weed and started puffing. Tuffy had no idea what he was doing. Earlier he said weed reduced the anger within him. Then weed just became a reason for him to infuriate. He became angry over trivial issues and used to run away during office hours to roll up and smoke. He was thrown away from his job because of the infinite number of breaks he used to take and for influencing others to take up weed. Tuffy loved writing. Writing was an in-born talent he possessed. He wildly proclaims that he wrote 4 books under the influence of weed, published them and made profits. Tuffy used to smoke up an entire stick rolled up with weed, pull out a note-book and pen and stroll down the roads looking for stories. He ...

Hardly have we seen life beyond our selfish thoughts. The time we waste in pointing out the negatives in a person is immense. The positives just lay around. Alone. Being a pessimist gives us more joy than being an optimist. Switching on the television and cruising towards a news channel rarely gives joy to Tuffy Singh. After a rather 14 hours of relentless work at office, he comes home to see a bespectacled anchor raring to go at his invitees. The invitees rarely get a chance to voice their opinions on a show titled ‘The Newshour’ but contain more fights and lesser news. He switches it off. Moving to a CNN IBN or an NDTV 24x7 won’t give him joy either. He wonders what joy these people get in just showcasing the negativities of the day. He rarely sees any form of positive news. On a day when there is no negative news whatsoever, he doesn’t see the spectacled anchor. It’s 2215 hours, he walks into his balcony and looks up and stares into the sky. The moon is missing. Again a n...

I believe in an India where I can voice my concerns. I believe in an India where females can walk peacefully whenever and wherever. I believe I’ll hear officials doing their jobs rightfully and not expecting a pat on their backs after someone dies. I believe in an India where I can write a book and not get it banned. I believe in an India where the two main political parties work together and not blame one another. I believe in an India where the politicians aren’t corrupt. I believe in an India where politicians use their brains and not call a terrorist as a Sahab. I believe in an India where a sensible movie makes more money than mindless films. I believe in an India where every citizen votes and then criticizes the governance. I believe in an India where the streets aren’t littered and dogs are not run over. I believe in an India where the Government listens to its citizens when we need a new President. I believe in an India when parent...

Finally the nation is awake. All of us have been trashing the government. All of us have been saying that the Congress will not come into power ever again. Six ruthless human beings killed a girl and atlast we are awake. There is a girl from Suryanelli in Kerala who was raped by 42 men over 40 days when she was 16 years old. The case is finally in the Supreme Court. The girl is a woman now. Ostracized and isolated from society. When her parents go to the market or a religious place to pray for the speedy justice of their daughter, they are often called by passersby as ‘Suryanelli’s parents.’ Severely stigmatized. That girl is 32. Still waiting for justice. Does it take a protest for the government to open its eyes? Every time we travel in a train, how many times have we seen a handicapped beggar come over for alms! Probably like a million times. Saumya was travelling in one such train when a beggar tried to rob her after trespassing into a deserted ladies compartment. Sh...

How many times have we hid ourselves in fear or made a sympathetic look or laughed at a person who looked different? Someone who has slow mental growth. Someone who isn’t normal but special. Students engaging themselves in Creative Activities In search of these special individuals we visited Kamayani School. A school which falls in an upbeat but quiet area of Pradhikaran. Searching for the school wasn’t a big problem. A rusted board then confirmed us that we had reached our destination. KAMAYANI SCHOOL FOR THE MENTALLY CHALLENGED. I could see a playground with boys in an all white uniform playing cricket. For me they just looked like normal kids who played cricket like each one of us play. I still believed that mentally challenged is too harsh a word. We entered the main gate of the school. The children were just surprised to see unknown people enter their school. Cooking Class But they welcomed us with smiles. We were amazed. When asked about the principal’s offic...

She walked down the road. A million thoughts. The pouring rain. The smell from the earth was so tempting that she felt like eating it. She had a sense of loneliness. She loved that though. There was also this emptiness which crawled into her life from nowhere. Tantra was drenched. She was sitting by the window, reading and had already gulped 4 cups of tea. Hence she went out. She went out of her flat. Exited her building. Looked towards the crying sky. With blinking eyes. She allowed the water to go into her eyes. She loved that moment when she suddenly shut her eyes as soon as raindrops pierced through her eyes. Water in its purest form. She spread her hands horizontally and stared into the clouds. The rain was in full flow. Tantra saw a puddle of water about 100 meters from the place she was standing. There were about 4 kids playing in the puddle. Fresh water filled into the large pothole on a recently constructed road. She played with the kids. Being one amo...

( The following post has been written in first person.) I was waiting for that black Dio to enter my building. Tuffy came. He parked his vehicle. Pulled up the seat and took out a Crossword plastic cover from the compartment. After a brief chat, he handed me the cover. He left. I took off the book. Khushwant Singh's face was all over the cover. Absolute Khushwant was the title. I just had Train to Pakistan in my mind which unfortunately I've never read. Once I started reading the book, I realised the amazing human being he is. Never have I read a person write extensively about the partition and proclaiming his love for Pakistan but being a truly patriotic Indian at the same time. It wasn’t just reading the book but knowing who this nonagenarian was. It was about knowing who Khushwant Singh is. I have seen many joke books written by him in the school library. Never have I tried to read them. He fuming on the various riots which happened in India reminded me ...

Tuffy was too tired. The one night stand was keeping him awake all night. He was awake. Wide awake. He was completing his office related work amidst the one night stand he had for the night. The one night stand he had for the day was literally burning. She was fuming because of the time taken by Tuffy to complete his work. Every night the electricity went off and she would just be sweating and waiting for him. Sometimes the wait was so long that she would just fall down and Tuffy would also crash down. Sometimes Tuffy would hit the hay forgetting about her. Every night he had a new one. Sometimes two of them a night. The first one would just be sweating it out until he would start off with a new one.  The old ones would just be the past for him. Just another one which kept him awake the entire night. He never used the same one again so that’s how the term 'one night stand' came into existence. The stand he had for all of them was the same which wa...

And then she cleaned her bookshelf for the seventh time in one day. It was a Saturday noon. The weekend had finally arrived after five days of pleasure at work. Yesterday she had to go with Roy to an awful nightclub right after work. She thought of cleaning the bookshelf. Browsing through her own collection of books again and again was hilarious but Tantra loved doing that.   Picking one from the shelf, opening it and smelling the book thoroughly. It was a drug. She could easily distinguish between a pirated one and an original one. The pirated one never gave the addictive smell hence she never purchased or accepted one as a gift. Accepting a pirated one was disrespect for the love she had for books. She never had a library membership. The only reason being that she loved owning a book rather than take it on rent and give it back within a stipulated time. She loved savoring the book page by page. Travel with the characters. Hence she is in a relationship with e...

Tantra was out with Roy after she was forced to accompany him to a nightclub. She didn’t consume alcohol. Roy did. She ordered juice and Roy asked for beer. Roy was just about to take out his card until Tantra knocked his hand, heading towards his wallet in the back pocket. She took off her card and got it swiped. Tantra reached for the receipt to sign it. “450 bucks for a Minute Maid, that’s what I think this citrus thing is, and your stupid beer,” she yelled at Roy. “Hey, hey that’s not Minute Maid, it’s a mocktail and the beer is imported, I’m a regular here, don’t humiliate me,” Roy yelled back. “I’m sorry to have invited you here, Roy,” Tantra replied in a sarcastic tone and continued saying, “I guess I’m being stalked by someone here.” “Oh yes! You’re high,” Roy laughed off the last line. Tantra wasn’t high. She really felt someone was stalking her. She felt the same whenever she went grocery shopping, online shopping and even at some book store...

Walking down the beach holding a wrapped box made her wonder the life she lives now. She looked at the waves. She looked at how each wave wanted to be higher than the other. She looked at the people playing in the water and awaiting for the next big wave. She keenly observed how some of them were afraid of the big waves and went a step backward and how some of them fearlessly jumped towards the charging wave.  Far far away she saw a vessel (a ship) lying stagnant. She wondered about the life the people on that ship must be leading. Far away from their families. Looking at her endlessly stare at the vessel a kid came and touched her. “Do you have anyone on that ship?” asked the kid. Tantra nodded her head in the negative. To this, the kid replied, ”Well you know my dad is on that, I may not be able to see him but he might be glaring in through a binocular to check on his little boy. So I come here daily to wave at him. He may well as may catch a glimpse.” Th...