Oneplus oNe - definitely UNSETTLING!

And I mean it in the best of ways! OnePlus with its 'never settle' motto have really managed to disrupt the market in all possible ways. The web is flooded with reviews of the phone that range from mind-blowing to over rated, so here comes another pebble along the shore.



My interest in the phone got sparked by the unique marketing style it adopted in India, invite-only. It pressed the right chords of the new-age, e-consumers and created a lot of waves with the way it engaged with potentials. I, however, got it once the phone became available on open amazon market.

I bought this phone after considerable research and I am sure the reader has also googled this enough to be well aware of its technical genius. So I shall refrain from quoting any tech specs in this post but rather my own personal views after a week's use.



What charmed me the most even as I was unboxing it was the attention to detail in the package design section. Everything's sleek, has amazing placeholders and is in a stark red&white theme. The consistency is with flanker products like the screen guard, etc. Frankly speaking, I got the screen-guard a couple of days earlier and my eagerness went through the roof having never seen such an intricate and elegant package for something as simple as a screen-guard.





The joy continues as you take the phone out and start tinkering with it. The phone is a looker, beating its competition hands down with a sleek unibody design and a unique sandstone finish back panel. The phone feels just great and I have often found myself caressing it's back to enjoy the matte-ish feel without even realizing!

CyanogenMod is its custom ROM that gives an interesting twist to the lollipop most android-ers are happily sucking on these days. Its my first android experience and its very, very satisfying so far. I have noted stark improvements over stock lollipop (running on Moto G2) and ZenUI (of Asus Zenfone fame) in the settings menu and custom animations. Not that they would matter to the average user, but then one who wants to be mediocre would probably not even consider this phone!



Performance remains true to the flashy specs, in succinct, I am running almost 25 apps and 3 games in parallel for a week now without a single reboot and the phone has not slowed once. Multitasking is even more fun once I updated to the latest 12s version of the CyanogenMod due to a sexier transition animation.



The battery is almost as good as my previous Windows Phone even though I am definitely doing a LOT more. That's something which keeps me grinning for a full day on superheavyduty use and more than 1.5 days if I alternate between the powersaver mode and performance mode, take the pain to switch the data off every now and then and use the WiFi in between!

I read a lot of people cribbing about its camera while researching and have decided that while in this aspect OnePlus oNe may not be a flagship killer, it's not something to
written off easily. In fact I kept 0 expectations from it and am pretty content with both of its shooters. If you're going for this, I'd recommend the same. Lower the expectations, happier you shall be. Nonetheless, some samples below.













Oh and like a good storyteller, the phone has some nifty tricks up its sleeve that you discover in due course. For starters, gestures work like a charm and are equal parts useful as well as fun to tinker with. I shall leave the others for you to discover on your own otherwise what would be the fun?

The Darkness Beckons...

Your bad is my good. Your crimes are my refuge. Your evil is my self. I am, YOU!  not quite, I am a part of you. The one augmented and demonic facet of you that you keep hidden from the prying eyes of the world. 

I am darkness.  Absolute. Pristine. Complete. 

You are in denial if you think I do not reside within your heart! I do. It has been my abode since the first time someone bullied you or teased or insulted you and you could do nothing about it. Remember the surge of fury that raged you? Remember the frustration and anger at your inability to take revenge? It was me, whispering softy to you to fight back.

But you pushed me aside, shunned me away as life’s brighter shades enchanted you. I watched, patiently, as the colors went out and then even the stark black and white gave way to a muddy hue of gray.

I looked on as you battled the intricacies of life, baffled and hurt at your inability again. Inability to drive things the way you see fit. I was there when your bubble of confidence burst. And only when you had to accept that sometimes, no matter what you do, you cant have your way did you remember me again!

I was the shoulder you cried on. The pillar of strength that you rebuilt yourself on. I was the one who gave you focus. I was the one who made you appreciate the clarity within chaos. Every time you hated the past, every tear you shed, every wrong you did, every penance that you paid for made you stronger. All this while it was me who pushed you in the corner, I kept pushing till finally you started pushing back. And while I saw a phoenix rise from the ashes, I leaned back to watch over you again. 

I am darkness. Incessant. Omnipresent. Pure.

All I ask for is acceptance!

But…

He smiled. She frowned. He did all to bring back her smile. Acted cute, made up jokes, prophesied his love for her in a dozen ways, and wrote her love songs amongst other endless frivolities. Alas, all in vain. Her mind seemed to be made up. She seemed to have something against him that was creating a gigantic rift between them in front of which even his titanic efforts were dwarfed but…

He didn’t give up. Trudged on steadily, undeterred. She left. Once again. She left in a huff swearing never to see his face again. He waited for her return. His patience gave way after a week and he started looking for her. In vain. She had disappeared off the very face of the earth, or so it seemed. Her phone was switched off and none of her friends knew of her whereabouts. She was at none of her favorite haunts. He was worried. He wasn’t even aware of the reasons of her rage. He had been a pillar of hope, but…

After that long his faith was waning. What, where, how, who? So many questions without any answers. He was terrified of what the future held. The uncertainty of it all flummoxed him. As he entered his house after the seemingly endless and fruitless search his every iota screamed at him for being such a blunt tool and for his obiter dictums but…

There she was. He smiled weakly, she looked resolutely. He felt his words tripping over each other. He tried to be more coherent. Failed. The words flew and chose their own course. She listened. But did she understand? He knew not. She called him stubborn yet there she was, closed to any hope, any dream. Letting the fear of striking out not only keeping her from playing the game but enjoying it too. Deep down she knew, joy unbounded waits but…

He closed his eyes, to hide his broken self. He remained little more than an empty shell casing without her. She was the bullet and with her gone, he was but a piece of scrap. He knew she’d win, he always let her. But unlike the other times he wished for things to be different; for her to lose, just this once, so that they could both win but…

Even before the words were out of her mouth, he knew. He could feel them coming. The curse of understanding her mercilessly flayed him before her words had a chance. Yet he tried. He tried hard. He knew he gave it all he could. He realized he was being verbose, but he couldn’t help it. He knew he held nothing back but…

All he could do now was await her decision. She was the slave and he, the master. Without fail. Always. Yet, in that moment the master’s soul was the slave’s toy and that was a piece of inerrant truth.

One more, he ordered. Me too, she chipped in. The barman smiled. They had had quite a few already.

He smiled at her, she looked pleased. He was glad. She had been stoic for a few days. That forebode ominously to him. But the events of that night brought with them a serene calmness. It had not been long, and he was yet to figure her out. But he didn’t care. He was glad for her presence there and the smile on her face.

She smiled back, content. He had parried her disarray till it stopped haunting her dreams. But she knew that the demon of confusion still lay low, waiting to strike. Yet with him, she was happy. Buoyant almost. The future remained shrouded in mist, she cared not. It was this moment that mattered and she was at peace.

Here you go, the barman left the tequila and lemons in front of them. They looked at the salted glasses and at each other. She giggled. Penny for your thoughts, he asked. She raised her glass and looked deep into his eyes, Just giving it a shot!

*a long while later*

Umm-hmmm. He blinked. Why couldn’t he recall the night. *CLINK* The bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold rolled gently over the floor and he smiled. His back felt heavy and he looked back. Her head lay nuzzling the small of his back and her legs dangled over the other side of the bed. Too much tequila’s never too good, he grinned and zonked out again.

Beyond the haze...

Tired of lying languidly,

Bored of the nonchalant daze,

I try and see,

Beyond the haze,

A surreal place,

Of dreams galore,

Where was reality,

I had cared no more,

A world so known,

A sinful variety,

I now let go,

Lost, in a newfound sense of propriety,

Everything is new,

Yet so familiar,

As if I was watching the same previously,

Just with glasses unclear,

I can see way beyond the haze,

The road’s long and the horizon far,

I care not and happily I walk,

With a hearty smile and my guitar.

Uncertainty

Herculean strength, the outer persona,
Barren wasteland, hidden beneath,
Micheal's light, shining freely,
Or Nebuchadnezzar's pit, in sanity's sheath?

Mist around, clouded way,
A dollop of gold for the last ride,
Enough it seems, flimsy delights,
Hell awaits, arms open wide.

The whirlpool beckons, the cracken cackles,
Yet the angel calls, opening the passage free,
To the pearly gates but slippery is the way,
Angel herself's lost or seemingly be.

What shall be lost and what found,
Remains shrouded in the shackles of time,
Hope lingers, will the angel too,
Charred is the end or eden sublime?

Epilogue:

I wish I knew :)

The modern Gospel of Judas- Injunction

Epilogue:

Clad in trinkets hiding wounds,

The silent arm gently swayed,

Watching the blade's brazen glint,

For a clean cut he prayed.

Again, but with a difference. Or perhaps the only difference lay in Mary's  reaction. Perhaps Christ was no longer the pillar of hope and sanity that he thought himself to be. Or perhaps Nazareth's crown of thorns had swayed her away. Restlessly he had battled within for over an hour deliberating the merits and cons of having a conversation that could only go 3 way, each way playing word by word in parallel inside the confines of his highly efficient brain. 

*An hour of dabbling in holy smoke later Christ finally summoned up the wits to have that conversation with Mary*

Mary often observed that the there lies absolute chaos in things well panned out. And the most clarity lies within chaos. What we truly are and what we choose to become depends on choices that lie in the hands of those most ill suited to take them. And yet we allow them to. Christ could relate to that, his entire life had been proving the same! 

But despite his well put words, for he could put them across really well, there seemed no difference in Mary's pattern that always ended up in invoking extreme loathing for the self. But the thing with hate is, you just can't hate specific targets. Once you invoke the demon of hate, it shall trudge its way up from the bloody pit only to swallow one and all in its way.

But what Christ always failed to grasp was the fact that words well meant are most misunderstood and often become the preludes for more saiyances to summon more and more demons from the pit of self wallowing and destruction. Can you imagine the pain of the saintly man who watches a lover writhe and cry before succumbing to a grotesque fate, right at the altar of their love? And then as the cherry on the cake, he is then made to carry the very coffin of his lover, strapped to his chest with the casket open so that nothing is allowed to escape his eyes. And he does so willingly. Such a masochist himself, Jesus effin Christ! 

Prologue:

Cuts, blunt and too many,

Suffering that never seemed enough,

His friend perhaps best,

Tough love or perhaps just rough.

Where reason fails does will survive,

Free will, a burden or a reprise,

The irrelevance of words,

Often lies in the best advice.

LOSS

Last words of an
Obiter dictum
Strangely incomplete yet
Subtly final

Rain...

He could feel the sticky drops of sweat binding him to his Tee and he wanted to break free. Get out of his skin. His insides had been eating him for days at end now. He'd tried almost everything, legal or forbidden, to rejuvenate but alas to no avail. He remained a prisoner of his own sub-conscious, the demons of his own creation...

And then the heavens opened and he saw a downpour like no other.

Rain

... thoughts failed him for once, and he ran out of all that confined him; the dark humid room, his sticky clothes, his own mind. The cold drops hit him like bullets, pelting from above. He braved the barrage for a couple of seconds before letting go...and let his naked body soak. A million faces and a zillion thoughts flurried through his mind before...

*BLANK*

It was all empty, zilch, nada, zero, nothing!! The downpour washed everything and nothing remained. Time passed, minutes, hours, days, eternity; he neither knew nor cared. He let the rain consume him until he was free.



Freebird

Fly high, Fly far,

Beyond the skies, beyond the stars,

No fear to stop on the way,

Fly freebird fly, this is your day.

Your nest is yours,

Nobody gets an inch,

Fly freebird fly,

Feel no pinch.

Ride the wind, let nothing stop you,

Above the clouds yet with every drop of morning's dew,

The angels are watching, become who you are,

Fly freebird fly, there is no bar.

Come back when you want to,

Nothing will have changed,

Fly freebird fly,

Thou art unchained.

Ek murde ki vyatha...

मुर्दा कहे शमशान से,

वादा था एक दिन आऊंगा,

आज खड़ा हु, सिर्फ तेरा होके,

थाम ले तो प्यार से सो जाऊंगा,

शमशान के वादे हज़ार,

किस किस से निभाए,

जनाज़ा जिसका जितना बड़ा,

उसकी बारी पहले आये,

जिंदा था तो रोया था,

मौत की बेवफाइ पे,

चाह के भी मौत ना आई,

तड़पता रहा वो ज़िन्दगी की रुसवाई पे,

आज मारा तो भी चैन कहा,

वक़्त का खेल अनोखा,

जलने की भी जगह नहीं,

शमशान ने भी दिया धोखा,

सोचा मुर्दे ने लाश का तो कोई मज़हब नहीं,

चलो दफ़न ही हो जाते हैं,

पर जो जिंदा बचे थे,

उनके नियम कहाँ ख़त्म हैं, 

मुर्दा कहे शमशान से,

कहा जाऊं अब हिम्मत ख़त्म,

कोई तो रास्ता दे दे,

कहे तू तो बिक जाए हम.

उपसंहार :

पुर्जा पुर्जा हो बिक गया,

ना बचा कोई मान,

मुर्दा आखिर ख़त्म हुआ,

अंत तक पुकारता शमशान.

(Every year about 5 million dead bodies are illegally sold for all kinds of sick reasons, who notices?)

(Selling Bodies, Making Profits)

From the smoky hues - a dream...

This was written eons ago, almost in a different life time...today just felt like sharing it again... :)

I am glad for those foggy nights,
And those dim lights,
When I felt your soft touch beside me,
Where you and I in those eccentric moments became we,
When I felt every single one of those unspoken words,
That you and I've said so many times in my dreams of another realm,
But that shall never become reality,
Even I do not wish for it as you already seem so happy,
In your dreams for they seem so real,
But in mine you remain the Alice of my wonderland,
So surreal.



Prologue:

Now I fret again for the smoky hues,
For I am glad for those smoky nights,
And those dim lights,
For there again you shall be,
With those eccentric moments, mine and waiting just for me...

The Cashmere Blanket - 80% Love, 20% Lust

The night was chilly. Another one of the famously clear, cold autumn night of the Himachal hills. He was sitting in his favorite spot overlooking the Parvati valley. A loud crackling fire was making merry amidst the rowdy wind that was frolicking with the firewood of the bonfire. He was at peace as his eyes took in the sight he loved. A river flowed in the distance and he could hear the chants of the waves crashing on the stoney shore, calling out to him. The snow capped peaks in the distance stood majestic shining pearly under the moon which was unnaturally bright. He was one with nature, just as he loved to be.

But he was not just at peace, he was in bliss. The reason was approaching him ever so slowly and he smiled to himself. She was there, serenely calm yet turbulent as the storm. She reminded him of LSD, like lysergic acid diethylamide plays symphony with one's brain, she too took him into a realm of psychedelia. He turned around and immediately broke into a smile. The setting was perfect as well as the set. She was the craziest trip he had ever had. Irresistible, sublime and taking him to a synesthesia - almost as if time din't matter and the only reality was that she was there before him, looking teased. 

Teased by his smile. She loved his smile and that only made him grin wider. He walked towards her, she walked towards him almost with a determined look on her face that said, "Tease me and you pay heavily". She was a wild-cat and he knew it was not an empty threat. Nonetheless, tonight he wanted to make her believe, believe in the fact that life can not be all bad. And so she needed to be teased. For her innermost self was playful. It remained hidden beneath a cloak of sobriety and sometimes melancholy, but deep down she was just a girl with happy dreams and high hopes. He wanted her to believe in her true self again. And for that, she needed to let herself lose. Thus, she needed to be teased. And also, he loved to tease!

He suddenly turned just before she could reach out to him and fit snugly in the lone cashmere blanket inside the rugged tent they had brought along to fight the weather. No matter how weary the winds may get, they wouldn't manage to disturb them tonight; he had made sure of it. She followed him inside, fitting perfectly in the cocoon of his arm. She was just the right size. She felt just right, clinging close. He held her. She kissed him warmly on his cheek, her lips assuring him that this was not a dream. He looked deep in her eyes, she was the damsel in distress who needed a knight. He was a lost soul in the vast world, merely a drop in the ocean of beings but with her to take care of he always felt larger than life itself. He planted a simple kiss on her forehead, hoping to convey the warmth he felt for her. She did feel that, and perhaps a lot more, for in the next instance she immediately placed her warm supple lips on his neck. Passion, intensely rising with each moment.

It was as if a trigger reaction. As soon as her lips touched an ounce of his skin, his fingers as if could not, ever, contain themselves. It was the change of scenario in a matter of seconds. The fingers, not very long, but long enough, and not exceptionally thin, but somehow just perfect, with perfectly smooth tips, and that uncannily soft skin, so unusual in guys, began wandering all along her body. They traced the sides of the thin purple gown she was wearing, and stopped where it reached her knee. And then, as if behind the covers, the real magic unveils, the fingers started to work on her. it was her turn to shiver, not with the coolness of his touch, but with the mere passion that set her skin on fire, everytime he touched any part of her naked skin.

His fingers, gently staying at the hollow of her knees, as if it was a pool of water a bird had taken to be amused with, staggered, and moved up, as if with a sudden realization, that there was more terrain to cover. The hands, sliding upwards, not with a hurry, but with restlessness, let the bait in the tips of those insanely observant fingertips. Moving up from the thighs, staying just for a few seconds to make sure not even a single cell remained untouched on the way, lingering for a couple of extra seconds at the curve where her hips met the thighs, for he had something for the curves, lingering for a little more time at the protruding hipbone, for it was sort of interesting, just that, moving horizontally till where the restricted space would allow his hands to trace free, circling the belly button, and enjoying her shiver with the slight intimidation, for he knew he could do that to her, arouse those feelings to that intensity, which gave him pure honest pleasure for he was not a perfectly crafted model to advocate modesty.

His touch was driving her wild, as it always managed to. She could not resist retaliating, he was warm and fuzzy and she grinned sinisterly before attacking his neck with a precision and ferocity that took him by surprise. Her fingers played along his strong back before sinking in at multiple places. He cringed but the masochist in him purred to the tune of the sinking nails and teeth. She looked deep in his eyes trying to gauge how much was he enjoying, and was delighted to find the ecstasy there matching her own. He was lost to the world, his eyes held hers and told her a thousand and one tales of love; somehow in their diabolic world, he was the Scherezade and she was the Shahryar of the arabian nights. He was the story-teller and she loved listening to them, commanding a new one on whim, and loving his readiness to tell her another of his fables.

But even as he told her stories that enchanted her, his fingers did not stop. The fingers, again to the side, outlining along the lengths of yet another curve that he was growing to love, protracting to the bottom curve of her left breast, and contemplating to be naughty or nice, and choosing to be nice this time around, sliding in the fingers up her cleavage, and reaching the hollow of her neck, staying there, for that is something he could never get tired of feeling, moving up the length of her neck, gently flicking her chin so that she was looking at him, right in the eyes, and watching her shy away, not openly, yet through those eyes that mesmerized him too much, planting a not very gentle kiss to the place his fingers had been wandering a few seconds before, and whispering ‘I love you’ through her skin. She was as if a territory that he knew every bit of, even with closed eyes but would never get tired of feeling for every time he laid his fingers on it, there was something new to be explored.

She realized how crazy his touch made her, yet craved for more. As her nails left marks that seemed indelible, she returned his passion with a fervor that matched his every inch! If he was a scythe she was a katana; if she was a mamba, he was no less a cobra. He was fire and she was water, and their was a mystical aura when they met. Both of them were lost in its rapture. Serenely wild, calmly violent and ecstatic throughout. An hour passed or two, or perhaps it was but a minute, they knew not. The howls of wild animals, the raging wind, the chill of the night was all but lost on them. They were just two animals who had surrendered to their true nature, where lust was so pure that it was no longer a sin for the very threads that knitted it were of love, inside the cashmere blanket. At peace and in bliss!


In collaboration with cloistered.languid.