We’ve heard this so many times – Life’s a bitch! People casually talking about life as if they know what it is all about. Now, I’m by no means indicating that I’m out of the crowd here. I’m just as self-righteous as all those stupid-ass mortals who think they know what life is and brag about how sad they are for not being closer to god. Just so that they can brown-nose him into a life on a bed of fluff. You know what amazes me the most? People. Everything about all these people around me. Some in real life, some on TV and on all those series and sitcoms I watch. Somehow, their life seems to be all full of drama. How do they have all this drama? Do we really have all this drama to life? Seriously, isn’t it so easy to live? Be happy, smile, be friends, not be rude and most importantly be a nice human being. How difficult is this? I think it’s easy, but what we humans live for is the spice. We don’t want to eat tasteless food now, do we? You’d want it to be right on salt, chilly, pepper and be as spicy as possible. And the spice; which is drama in this case comes into life when you start feeling its bland – tasteless.
I tend to observe people and I manage to not attract their attention somehow. I don’t quite know if this is a good thing, but then people seem to be so oblivious of me being next to them, observing them, looking directly into their eyes, studying them and sometimes even snooping into what they say. Mostly, I wouldn’t make head or tails out of whatever it is that they speak, but I still love eavesdropping; especially if its people I don’t know remotely. Listening in on women chatter is very fruitful I might add, they think they know a lot and they think being a woman is the most difficult thing ever. Sometimes, in some women; I can distinctly smell a sense of superiority a superlative magnetism around them. An aura so strong that it deflects me away from them, just wanting to run away. Cause in my eyes, their reason for existing ends when they radiate the nothing that we all are. We are all nothing without each other. I wonder how it is that people don’t understand our binding. I am bound to the world and thus I’m bound to each and every human being on it. You need me just as much as I need you and there is no running away. But I try running anyway. Speaking of which; the MNS drama which happened recently in Maharashtra. What was that? I mean, what the fuck is he thinking? You think you can drive us away from where we live Mr. Thackeray? That’s our land just as much as its yours and we’ve lived there since times immortal. This is my country and you are a no one. Hear me? You’re a no-one and you’re not telling any one of us about where we can or cannot come! Do whatever the fuck it is that you want. You or your minions don’t scare me. Thats my land and I’m going to stick.
Going back on the drama bit – I thought about dramas and about how weird they are because of a couple of incidents. The first being the part where the drunk wife beater came back and this time he bought along some real nasty men. He nearly broke into the docs house but that’s when the watchman convinced him that there was no one home and it’d be pointless. This time I chose to listen in on the drama from within the safe walls of my room and it still sounded scary. Especially since Chetan scared the shit outta me the other day after knocking on my door and not answering my “Kaun hai?” question. My knees trembled for a full two hours after that. Mostly because of this and partly because I went with the guys for a drive in Ajay’s car when he was kinda high. Drunk people, however sweet they be scare me. Not that they’d physically harm me but you never know what they’d say. They have no emotional control and neither can they control what they think or talk so it kinda gets difficult if something I don’t want to hear falls out and I really did not want that. Somehow, that was wrapped up! Anyway, I thought about how inconsiderate people can be and about how money and power corrupts you and your thought process. This guy sounded like an educated guy with a very potty mouth and that disturbed me a lot. Then again, I was having breakfast at Adigas as usual and I had asked for Onion dosa. This usually takes more time that the rest and I stood by the counter; lost in some sort of a day dream when I noticed someone staring at me. Ever had that feeling where if you try hard enough and stare hard enough at someone even from behind them, they seem to turn back to look back at you? It’s happened to me and sometimes it seems like countless dejavu’s at the same time. It’s an awesome feeling when you get someone to look at you just by staring at them. I try doing this once in a while, but in this case I noticed this girl staring at me and it was not like a “ohh-what-a-hot-guy” stare (I look miserable and fat in my night clothes) and neither was it a “Ewww-ohh-no” look (I don’t deserve that for sure) it was more like the “Hmmm-do-I-know-you?” look and she seemed like someone I know or had seen before. I smiled because it was an awkward deadlock-in-the-eye situation. You know like when you’re staring at some girl’s boobs and she’d notice you? Well, no. Not that situation. You’d usually get the “Fuck you!” look back from her then. This was more the out the blue “do-I-know-you” stares from the both of us and I unknowingly smiled. Common courtesy, nay? She didn’t smile though. She lurked in the distance for a while trying to eat whatever it was that she seemed to be eating. It was more like she was swallowing food to avoid the hassle of chewing it. She had this thin, very frail, almost fragile body structure and was as tall as I am. This part of the story ends here.
The next part is more of a dialogue after I heard my bell ring today afternoon during my after work relaxation hours when I don’t like being disturbed. It’s been Greys Anatomy time for me and I love my time of peace. *Bell rings and I open the door*
Me: (Looking at the same girl, almost with the “what the bleep” look!) Yes? She: I’m sorry, I wanted to talk to you today morning itself, but you were in a hurry. Me: Hi, do I know you? She: Yes, I live two floors above you. We shifted a month back and you might remember us from the truck parked in front of the gate because you created a commotion since you had to leave for work and that truck had our stuff in it. Me: Ahhh, alright. I remember the mallu uncle. We had a small talk. She: Yes, that’s my dad and his shirt is in your balcony *sheepish look* and he didn’t want to come talk to you. Me: Ohh, no problem, let me go get it. I rarely go to the balcony so I wouldn’t have noticed.
I get the shirt, hand it over to her and she leaves after a quick round of profuse thankboration. I was so bored because she thanked me a bit too much. A simple “thanks” would suffice, you know? So my question here is simple, why the drama in this case? Just come over and ask me to get the shirt and I’d do it. What was she thinking? That I’d not return the shirt cause of my history with her dad? History? crap! I just asked him to get the truck outta my way cause I was late to work. Hmm, do I look like spice to you girl? *sigh* Just ask, kapiche? I watched a few movies. Disgifured and Dance of the dead are stuck to my head. I hope the lousy feeling these movies gave me wears out soon. Funny, but I failed an aptitude test this week and I gotta answer a repeat tomorrow. So, I’m thinking on lines of a good nights sleep. Also, I had a chance to write about my favorite character – Barney Stinson. I’m going to end with him –
So say hello to Barney Stinson! The ever so charming, enigmatic, magnetic and still higher on class and style kinda guy who isn’t someone you’d spot on a regular basis. He’s surely not someone you’d find idly squatting flies in a main street coffee bar. He’s the kinda guy you’d find hitting on single twenty-two something chicks but not in some random bar. You’d find him only in McClarens! Ohhh and the part where I spoke about single woman is not entirely true. Any twenty-two year old chick is what he’d want me to write about him. He’s one of the royals, chiefs if you may, of the endearing circle of Caucasian blonde men who can bag a girl by putting her down; sometimes even after calling her a filthy whore and sleeping with her mother. Now, ain’t that legendary?
Barney
Barney’s glow is an aura you can feel from a distance. The halo above his head is deadly red. It’s a clear pointer to the fact that within him resides a mythical creature so nasty that it’d devour you but you wouldn’t die. You’d just be reborn with some awesomeness added on. He is advisor to many youngsters who dream of jumping into the invigorating world of promiscuity and binge drinking. The one thing he really hates is marriage and commitment. Don’t marry for as long as you can is what he’d say. If you are feeble and cannot control your disease which limits you to emotional dysentery for a particular girl/boy that’s the only time you may even consider about getting engaged and thereby married, which again is not advisable until you hit the plum age of 30 and this is for men. For women, if you touch 30, you’ve touched your official “Ohh-no!” moment and you’re nothing but garbage. For men, that’s the age where you are at the pinnacle of physical attractiveness. His ideas are revolutionary and they’d not only make you giggle but also excite you beyond your wildest imagination.
Some of his achievements in the areas of being a womanizing dude maestro include but are not limited to the following:
– Discovery of the Vicki Mendonca diagonal formerly known as the hot crazy scale. This means that a girl is allowed to be crazy as long as she’s moving up the hot scale. Simply put if she’s an 8.5 on the crazy scale, she’d need to be a 9+ on the hot ruler. Else, she’s out and you need to throw the hook for fresh fish. If you tend to ignore the scale, you’ll just stink in the end and trust me, this has been proven time and again by Barney.
– Barney, unknown to many is the mystical BRO who wrote the BRO CODE! Bro code is a set of rules for bro’s who hit on women together in random bars or any street that you’d like. Bro’s are governed by these rules and the code is a death line. There are no government laws governing the way in which bro’s function and thus an able man had to step up and write a book of codes. A couple of rules: A bro shall at all cost inform a mutual bro on the occasion of a girl fight and of course the golden rule No sex with a bro’s ex.
Barney usually drops his knowledge about women, sex, money and power to four of his closest friends; Ted, Lily, Marshall and Robin. Most importantly, he isn’t like you and me and that’s precisely why they call him “The Barnicle” he is different because you’d never see him in Shirts, t-shirts or jeans and trousers. Barney dresses like a hunter, a hungry lion and he hunts in suits. He suits up to get laid and he does it in style. Secondly, while guys like you and me would hide our porn, he has them neatly arranged and lit; in red again and he’s proud of his sexuality! After all that we know about him, it’s the usual tendency of people to bend towards sympathizing for all those self-loathing idiotic girls who ever slept with Barney, but the real deal is – he doesn’t hurt anyone. He makes his intensions crystal and that’s not even solid by the way, but the women still seem to get his point. His apartment isn’t a place to leave a toothbrush or lingerie behind and neither should you curl up and sleep more than your usual 12 hour sex visa, 14 if you qualify for multiple entry. Like I said, Barney is a visionary and the lemon laws he makes is going to change the world some day.
Finally, the grey part but the most important reason to Barney’s amazing demeanor is the fact that you’d never get a chance to get him feeling low or sad. His usual take on this is, “When I feel sad, I stop being sad and be awesome instead, true story!” This very take on life multiplies his awesomeness and yes, he is a force to reckon with! High five to Bimbo’s, Scotch and suits, or so he’d say.
So I got lost and it was scary cause I had no clue of where I was and I was desperate to reach home but then I was too high on myself to call up and ask for help. I then proceeded to roam around the city at 12:30 AM clueless about where I was and the road to my home seemed to be lost unto oblivion. It was weird of me though that I kept the music loud and kept on driving. Going back to the whole situation, it would have turned murky weren’t it for some good people out for sehri and other reasons since it was Eid. There were quite a few muslim people out on the streets; either returning from the mosque or on their way. Luckily for me, there weren’t any communal riots going on and I managed to talk to a couple of people who helped me out. I drove all around Bangalore, I feel. Eid Mubarak to those two good people who helped me. Eid Mubarak Shags, Muiz and Shaista and all those people celebrating the auspicious day.
I had been to a friends party which was a dinner thing and thus it began at around 9ish or so to say it never began cause people were sober then. They were just about getting on the higher, more funnier side when I had to leave and I feel sorry for myself that I had to come home and work. The thing here is, this post is a follow up to the post ‘meeting strangers’. Here in this case, I thought it’d be difficult for me to survive at a place where I wouldn’t know any of the people coming over and I pondered for a long time about how I’d be able to communicate to a bunch of people I did not know. Funny that? No. It was horrifying! I was worried thoughout the time I drove to her place and up unto the time the door bell rang, from there on it was easy and time just flew by! Most importantly because I found a mallu guy who decided to do the funny talk and also happened to be kind enough to include me in almost all of his discussions. I just sat there and heard him out… ohh and I did have my share of time checking out all the pretty ladies that poured in. The host was gracious enough to admit that she didn’t know all the people who had come over. It was fun, nice people and they weren’t as drunk as I thought they’d be. Or well, I guess they probably did after I left, maybe. Mallu’s bond quickly and I sat speaking to all the mallu’s I could gather.
The thing here was I got to her house easily because she had drawn up a pretty decent map from Cunningham road to her place and I managed to reach there without missing a turn. While returning though, I was lost in thought and spaced out completely. I thought I could take on the roads and karma came in to punish me. I had the map, but I didn’t bother looking at it. Took me more than an hour of driving around Frazer town to finally hit M.G road and from there on it was easy – Koramangala and my place, Arekere which according to most people is the end of the world. Phew, you guys don’t know how affordably good my place is. Now thats not an adjective everyone can use, you know? I managed to reach home and for the first few minutes I was thinking out loud – am I really home? Wow, where was I? Sometimes, these parts of the town which are as close as a few miles away might seem so very alien to you. Upon returning home, you’d feel misplaced or still lost even, funny feeling that! Anyway, thanks R for the invite. It was an awesome party! Its ok that I got lost. I’m sure I can find my way around the next time *winks*
Tired and sleepy...
Its been a rather sad day after that – Airtel calling me up to know if I wanted more post paid connections; I mean, why would I need more post-paid connections when they’re calling on my post paid number? Some guy from HDFC called to verify if I still want the loan and I was too sleepy to answer so I hung up and tried to sleep. Thats when the HDFC girl called up again and began tweeting, “Sorry sir, we couldn’t get your statement from Citibank; all the banks are closed, you know na?” and me; unsure about whats going on and extremely sleepy, barked out, “So what do you want me to do ma’am?” “No no sir… I just wanted to tell you that we are still awaiting your phone bills from your fathers landline number” she squeaks this time! I heave a sigh and I guess it was good enough to give her the hint that I was mad. She hung up quickly after apologizing. I was trying to get some sleep after a hard nights work, woman! I couldn’t sleep after that. Her voice kept echoing in my head. I’ve been here in front of this box ever since. I need sleep – so so desperately!
Population outburst, unruly and uneducated people, educated scmucks, morally impaired, outright stupid – some of the many reasons for the unending waits we have to endure as part of the mob. The mob who lives in a world thats crumbling under the weight of the ever increasing ignorance in people about their pointless existence. They seem to be oblivious about the fact that its they themselves who cause ‘the waiting’ A quick one on this –
And grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
Headed I fear, towards a most useless place.
The waiting place…
For people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
Or a bus to come, or a plane to go.
Or the mail to come, or the rain to go
Or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
A high-school yearbook. An old photo album. A teddy bear.
A snow-globe. A well-worn book by Dr. Seuss.
Or waiting around for a yes or a no
Or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite
Or waiting for wind to fly a kite
Or waiting around for Friday night
Or waiting perhaps for their uncle jake
Or a pot to boil, or a better break
Or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
Or a wig with curls…
Or another chance.
I’m tired of waiting. I know that I’m part of the mob and there’s little that I can do to decrease the amount of time spent on waiting for things you want. The queue is never ending and I spend loads of time just waiting in queue. The queue at the Airtel bill payment counter which is incapable of managing the crowd even with 5 queues going. The queue at Adigas, the food joint where they serve cheap but good food. The wait at restraunts where people seem to eat on forever. The wait at the parking lot where you’d consider yourself to be lucky to park at the rate of Rs 30 an hour (outfuckinrageous). The wait at the parlour or the saloon even! Its funny that I have to wait anywhere and everywhere I go. Who are all these people I wonder? Why are they out? Where do ALL these people come from? What the bleep do they want? Why are they out when I’m out? God damn these crowds!! Stop touching me you pig… duh! People all over me. Crowds annoy me and unruly people get on my nerves. But the wait goes on…
This outburst is after some random guy decided to throw sambar all over me and had the audacity to ask me to pay up for his loss in food! I gave him a piece of my mind which he probably did not understand. He then went on to make a funny face, talk some eblish in broken hindi and cursy kannada. We stared at each other for a while. He wondering about who’d pay for his idli-sambar now and me thinking about who’d wash my shirt? You can’t blame anyone for anything that happens these days. Unavoidable people, I tell you. I was there for him and he was there for me. We were so unavoidable to each other. Bumping into each other for no reason. Blame the crowd. The wait at Adigas has always puzzled me. The food is alright and that too at a modest price range, but then, why don’t all these people eat at home? I mean, I see entire families standing and eating away. Laughing away to glory, unperturbed by the fact that they are in the midst of such a lot of commotion. I understand if the bachelors hang out at the place for food and more, but whats up with all these ladies? Or whats up with their men? Don’t you’ll ever cook at home? I see the same faces everyday. It just worries me! Good old times when mom cooked food and what she cooked seemed to be the only thing I could ever like. These new age mothers feeding their babies idli-sambar which some guy cooked in some unhygenic kitchen. For the love of god, whats wrong with you’ll? Anyway, the man went on buy more idli sambar for himself and I walked out thus missing breakfast, yet again.
The wait for getting a loan sanctioned is killing me from another end with the HDFC chicks sucking the very life out of me with their stupid ass questions. “So sir are you married?” “No” I say candidly. She goes onto ask a few more questions about my family and friends not trying to hide her awe when I say that I’m new to Bangalore. “So you know kannada ha?” she asks and I curse my fate. “Gothilla ma’am” and she giggles. She goes on, “Sir are you single?” here I get brain fucked and I ask her what she wants! She goes on to say, “Sir you want this loan no? Please answer my questions” and I go @$@$%$#%!#@##$@#$ Some more annoying questions later she puts her boss on the phone who asks me the same annoying questions again this time he adds on to say, “Sorry sir, these days they don’t give loan unless your father agrees to it! They don’t agree even if you have a wife. They don’t trust wives… you know with all the divorces in Bangalore!” and I’m thinking… ‘Man, what the hell’s going on? So now what? You’re a relationship councellor?” He giggles some and tries to confirm my mothers maiden name. This interrogation continus for another 20 gruelling minutes before which he seems to point to me that I can get more loan than what I’ve opted for and how I’m making an incorrect decision. I’ve never felt this smothered. The torture along with the wait has fuelled my rage and I’m going to stop running after any of these imbeciles. I’m tired of the waiting…
I’ve loved words from the time I learnt and understood them. I’ve always thanked Miss Rozana Rodricks (my English teacher) for enlightening me and introducing me to a language that has no boundaries. However much we Indians despise the time when we were ruled by the whites there would always come that time when we’d need to thank them for the immense amount of worldly knowledge that was shared and add to that the language itself was bestowed upon us and as we all can see, English was easily absorbed. Since eons its gone around worlds within our small world and it didn’t need to try hard to become a globally acknowledged medium of communication. Today, I’m not shocked when even the rickshaw guy understands me when I speak in English. I have somehow been under the impression that I was good if not the best when it came to notating what I thought I knew about the world I lived in. Well, this mirage was recently shattered and I’m still trying to rummage whatever is left of the then towering figure of myself.
I’m just a nincompoop! A little toad unable to squeal or croak and trying to swim in a pond thats too big for it. Smelly and newborn. Trying to swim, but drowning instead. Words are never in your control and they can choose to make you sound sloppy if you treat them with disrespect and/or be overtly confident with them. Simply put, they have a mind of their own when they flow from your head, heart and mind onto books or digital media that you’re imprinting it onto and during this transition they might end up meaning something which you probably did not intend them to mean. Writing exactly what you feel, I think is a very difficult thing to do because feelings are abstract and writing requires a lot of imagery. I’m just going to write what I feel and stop nagging people to write. Its sad that I don’t have a single friend or acquaintance who actually likes writing and or blogging. Friends who blog would have been more advantageous, I’d say. I tried to talk to a few of my friends into writing. But then, thats what they say about writing – its not everyones fantasy. Some wouldn’t even read.
All my recent revelations stemmed from two important things. One of them being my guru at the creative writing workshop throwing in some real critisism about the way I write and the content in my writing. What he said was true and I’m thankful that he provided feedback. He’s a busy man but he still managed to find time to tell us newbies about what we need to correct in our writing. After this, I began reading at random blogs and I ended up at this blog – Lakshmi. From whatever I collected off her work on the web; she’s a 17 year old and I found her writing to be extremely captivating, almost poetic the way she writes prose and the way she’d evoke imagery using words alone is simply outstanding. I read at quite a few places but this was special considering that she’s merely 17. I thought it took time for one to be profound with words. Also, it takes experience to put them together. I’d associate her superior word building skills to her affinity to books and her love for reading. Its takes a lot to develop a unique style of writing and I was totally bowled over with the way she presented her thoughts, ideas and feelings without sounding unreal. I’d like to applaud her work and I hope she continues writing. Its quite a gift she’s got up her sleves.
I spoke to Sneha sometime back and we discussed a very lethal subject thats in the pipeline for her and then me. She usually vents out when we talk. She compulsively has to tell me about how silly it is for 25 year old guys to marry (this is mostly cause the guy she had a crush on was married) She’d comment on how weird it is that her weekend falls on a “Thursday” instead of one of the days on an actual weekend! Finally, we’d trickle down to the alfa-male of topics – What kind of a guy? When? Why arranged? *sigh* Sometimes I wish she had a life. The poor thing has been owned from the time she was born and I’m sure she hasn’t had a chance yet to decide for herself. I can’t quite say that its a bad thing to have had everything you ever wanted but then the caged feeling isn’t all that good I’d assume. I’ve always been the runaway prodigal son and thus I’ve managed to outlive parental expectations. Whatever I do is good for them – Wow! you managed that is probably what they think. Sneha on the other hand is expected to live upto our parents words and decisions and she’s be wonderful with being an optimum daughterdroid. We discussed marriage in length and it felt good talking to her about things on a more serious note. Well, thats how I ended my weekend. I’m covering the nights tomorrow onwards and I’m hoping to begin my workouts again. Finally, I hate stray dogs – they can bark endlessly throughout the night and sometimes I feel like rushing out, pulling a Mt. Carbine and killing each and everyone of the 40,000 odd strays living near my appartment. What a pain. Heh, but then… another day in paradise.
I’m going through a phase in my life where I have quintals of time on hand. This doesn’t necassarily mean that I’m jobless or that I have nothing good to do. It just means that I find a lot of free time. Owing to facts such as being in a city where I don’t have a lot of friends, being away from family; thus reducing people who live with me and share the same roof, hmmm, I live alone. Close friends who seem to be nowhere near and in fact, far far away! Some of them distanced by land, some because of lack of time and the others because of my own emotional withdrawal. I’m missing them all. Also, I’ve realized that I am not and I don’t think I will ever be – someone who can quickly make friends. Its a very difficult process for me and friends one made must stay so forever, or so I’d think.
I’m missing Sneha a lot. I’m scared she’ll be gone one day. She’d need to walk into the whimsical world of marital bliss and thats when she’d be crowded by a lot of people I wouldn’t even know. I’d lose my little sister to all those strangers. Who essentially won’t be strangers anymore to her but will remain people I don’t know and I simply can’t fathom the thought of her going away or me not being able to talk to her the way I usually do. She’s someone I’ve loved limitlessly and someone I’d do anything for. Man!! I miss you so so much. I miss mom, but not as much. I talk to her very often and then Radha aunty is nothing less than mom for me. She’s always there when I need motherly advice and food *winks* so somehow, mom seems to be with me all the time. Dad and me have always had an unspoken problem and it has stagnated and grown on him and me for the past few years now. Especially since I did not meet upto his expectations when it came to earning degrees. Pfft, how I loathe professional qualifications. How essential is it? Think closely and you’d know that education is overrated. How many of those many many engineers actually use what they learnt? It just wasn’t for me, you know? Dad lives in a society where everyone comes to him for advice on what they need to do and he thinks its sad that he couldn’t draw up his own sons life. I’ve been trying my best at telling him that my life is beautiful the way it is and I’d want to work and design life on my own, but then he’s a dad and I’m a son we are living a common life. Father issues – how much more of a cliche can that be? I miss talking to him though, he’s the only person I lose to (with words) and he doesn’t even need to try.
Miss them all...
I miss Abhi, Muiz, Smikh and I miss Convergys a lot. How I wish I could re-wind and go back to that day – 2nd May 2005. I walked in and saw this huge guy (who looked handsome but wore tight formals which were falling short of his ankles) and we sat opposite each other. He seemed to be in love with his hair and I must say they’re much shorter now *winks* Muiz was the first person I spoke to and he has been my friend ever since. Abhi was with Suvarna and he seemed like this fat snob who was too high on himself. He looked like he was about to take charge as the Director of Convergys, India. But he still laughed like a huge kid, even then. I remember him talking to Suvarna as I gazed at how big my company was. I had no clue about what I was getting into. Convergys was instrumental in shaping my career and has since then shown me the path I should follow. I’ve never stopped since. I miss every bit of my love life which lasted throughout Convergys and ended with it. I’m not sure if thats good or bad, but it was beautiful when it lasted. I miss being in love. I miss our magical magic bay at Convergys where we had non-stop masti (hindi for fun) and I miss Smikh, Mank behind her, Abhi to his right and me behind Abhi. Muiz asking me to host the server to play Counter-Strike even though he was on a call. Smita running around playing tipy-tipy-tip-top which color do you want? And “Green!” says Hitendra Rawat one of the awesomely vulgar guys in the networking team. Wow! It all seems like a dream now. I miss you Shags, I really do and I don’t understand your apathy to my existence. I wonder how it is that you’re just gone and I feel like you’ll never come back. Scares me, but then is there something I can do? I guess not. God damn it! Nostalgia fucks up my brain.
Farty
Chetan had come home cause we decided to work out on some Active Directory related stuff and I thought that’d be good, mostly cause it’d help my grungy brain. I usually have a lot of fun when Chetan is around and this time I was in for some added fun. The source of laughter this time wasn’t Chetan though he accompanied me as I teared with laughter and disgust. I’m sure most of us if not all would find it funny when someone farts or pretends to cough even or otherwise make funny noises using their stomach and intestines which needn’t necessarily be followed by repulsive odour, you know the ones where you’d suppress the want to let it go but it’d bounce within your stomach and make a funny noise? Hahaha, well this time, this middle aged lady was caught by surprise cause it was dark and she did not notice me and Chetan walking behind her. She let out one huge one and it sounded like “Bhrrrrrrrrrrr brrr brrr brrrr” and thats when she notices us from the side of her eyes and she made the “Ohh shit! no…ohh fart!” face and tried to redirect our attention to her chappals as she made some noises by scrubbing it on the road. This did not seem to fool either Chetan or me. I was wondering about what the hell that was as Chetan looked on dumbfounded and thinking to himself, “Man, thats a big one!” we then looked at each other and rebounded into peals of laughter where neither of us could stop. She hurried off not knowing what else to do! I really did try to control, but it was hilarious and I really laughed my ass out! Chetan made the whole situation even more funnier by trying to muffle his laughter. You actually laugh more when you’re trying to stop yourself from exploding and thats what happened to Chetan. All in all, this was a crazy laugh day and I loved the whole therapy! Cheered me up. Thanks aunty.
I watched “A Wednesday” Its a movie involving Anupam Kher and Naseeruddin Shah and it was one of the best movies I’ve watched over the last few months. A small scale movie with no stupid songs and gripping from the beginning unto its end. Also, the message is pretty clear. Its about how the common man feels and about how one fine day the “stupid common man” can decide to reply to all the unwanted shit he has to deal with because of the numerous religious fanatics out there. I mean, I got Naseer’s point, “Koi madarchod button dabakar mere liye yeh faisla nahi karega ki mujhe kabh marna hai” Which means “No motherfuckers decides the time of my death on the press of a button” Bloody kill these bastards! I’m sure anyone who watched the movie would say the same. Terrorism needs to end and I wonder why the government keeps such people alive. They have the whole funda of “encounter” so why do they keep such pests alive? If you find them, shoot them, no questions asked and no answers awaited. They are apparently kept alive for more “information” but as if they’re going to give any. Fuckin’ waste them! They’ve messed enough already with near and dear ones and with people who make up our world. People; looking at whom we feel safe and the most important feeling of “I’m not alone” This should all end. Heh, big things for me to say when whats worrying me now is what I should have for lunch.
