IT IS ONLY FAIR to end this adventure on the same note with which it began. My favorite topic – Mumbai. During my recent visit to the city, or to be specific, during one of the many perpetual travels of Mumbai locals that I religiously make (and sometimes empathies with Amitabh’s father in Deewar, who spends his entire post-‘mera baap chor hai’-life sitting in the window seat of train), I realized that there is no other city in this country I can call my home. Even after spending the most adventurous part of my life in all ‘Hip’ parts of the country (but not Mumbai), I hate to admit that this city has pampered me beyond reckoning! And sensing the buzz around oncoming IPL auction, I feel, I too must take the baton and pitch for my city.
SO HERE is my pitch :
The only city where you can enjoy the luxury of cold shower without worrying about the season of the year. (‘Mumbai winter is an oxymoron,’ I read somewhere…)
Sea food : Bombay ducks, shrimps, prawns, crabs – if there is any such term as ‘Food Orgasm’ (source: Mumbai Mirror), I bet one can dig its origin in the salty waters of the city.
a limitless Sea: A sea is a Must if one wants to get ‘Lost’ every once in a while! Each visit to the shrine of Haji Ali reinforces my belief that Faith and Religion are two different things.
The people: I am probably one of the very few Mumbaikars left who love the idea of romanticizing about the city which never incites any poetic emotions from its own people. People here are so routined to walking among the monuments and living through the ‘Aaj Tak Moments’, that it’s rare to hear the word ‘overwhelmed’ on the streets. “Huh, whatever…” seems to be the tone of the town which is habituated to weave Hindi, Marathi, Gujrati, Parsi & English in the same sentence.
It’s not unlike me to get carried away with the topic that kindles so many memories and invites a rush of emotions. So I am going to stop and leave it at this. Because ‘wonderfully imperfect’ is what I would like Mumbai to be remembered as…
On every lazy evening, we all friends meet up, play catch-up with our ordinary lives and exhaust all the topics that give us reasons not to call it a day. But after a while, after digging up everything that we can talk about, silence starts to creep in, Silence, that u wish, be blown away into thousand pieces by something, Something that pushes the entire evening towards a long haul…
And then, as u prepare to return home, like the day before, somebody suddenly starts:
“……………………………………
Say, Why ‘Lovemaking’ is such an enjoyable experience? Had it not been for the purpose of Reproduction, would God have made it the way it feels? I mean, even though most of us (I’m assuming) hadn’t done it, yet, we all have no doubt about its desirable & enjoyable (to put it mildly) nature. And that’s only because we have been ‘Told So’ – directly or indirectly, since coming of age. But what happened in ‘The Beginning’, When there was nobody to tell this… … to Adam & Eve? Why did they ‘(Let’s) Do It’ in the first place? I guess, the setting would be something like this:
‘One evening, they would be short on Firewood. And while trying out different ways of lighting a fire, they would have accidently ‘Done It’. And Adam would be all like – “That’s…… umm… Nice…” And Eve would be like – “Yessss!! Yessss!!!” And when Eve’s belly would start ballooning, she would be – “Oohhh, What’s happening to me!!” And Adam would be like – “Gotchha”. And after 9 months, when ‘Adam Junior’ would pop out of the most unimaginable place, Adam would be like – “Fuck!!! What the hell???” And Eve would be like – “We should name him ‘Adam Junior’”. And Adam would be like – “We???” ……………………………………”
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What follows is a Censorable Debate that drowns the evening for next couple of hours…
Even though he didn’t have any when he began running the marathon, by the end of the 3rd kilometer (or the 4th song on his iPod), there wasn’t slightest of a doubt in his mind that he was Runnin-foraa-Cause. You see, when the starting shots were fired, he took off in style, finding his way through the waves of colorful ‘Bottoms’ of various sizes. Bursting with energy, his legs moved on the beats of the handpicked playlist, as he eased past first couple of kilometer-signs in no time. Little relaxed, he sensed the current in the air. The atmosphere was electrifying! Thousands of people were running – WITH HIM. Hundreds of spectators, lining up along the sides of roads were waving n cheering – FOR HIM. He tried to picture Sylvester Stallone – in his famous Rocky-Run. And suddenly, on the inside, he felt something he had never felt before while running…
His Bladder was FULL! His Bladder was so FULL that he felt it was about to burst at any moment! “Ooooohhfff….” He thought. A mobile toilet had just passed some 200 meters before. “Just…” he sighed. Still feeling pressure, he kept on running with the hope of soon finding the next toilet. Now, he was indeed Running for a ‘CAUSE’…
It was hard! It had been at least 15 minutes since he started running with his head between his knees. His Bladder was growing by the minute! Every stride he took, acknowledged the futility of the effort. Every water-stand he passed by made him nauseate – even though he felt as thirsty as a crow. His body had run out of all the juice, except for his Bladder, which had at least a bucketful of it. “Damn you Bladder!” he cursed under his breath. No toilet was in sight yet! Even though extremely conscious of his public image (“To pee or not to pee”–that was the question!), he shamefully looked for a ‘Wall’. There were none. And even all the corners were guarded by the cheering crowd, so he dropped that Plan. Summoning all the courage, and requesting his ‘Junior’ to hold on for a while, he ran. He ran HARD! Then he ran some more…
Finally!!! After fighting seemingly lost battle with his Bladder, as he was about to Tap Out, he saw IT! And before anybody else would, he made a dash for it. Inside the toilet, he positioned himself, holding onto his… well holding onto his breath, he aimed for the glory. That was the greatest Piss he had ever taken! The entire toilet smelled of Victory. He came out Relieved. And then he realized how far he had come from the point where starting shots were fired. 8 kilometers! That means for 5-fucking-kilometers he had run with a FULL Bladder & a STIFF Junior!!!
The next 13 odd kilometers were like a series of cake-walks compared to what he had just come through. He jogged next couple of kilometers basking in the glory of his ‘Monstrous Achievement’. As he went past the India Gate, his hand shot in the air to salute the monument, remembering how agonizingly close he came to ‘Taking a Leak In Front of the India Gate’! That could have been the worst haunting memory of his life!! But, instead of getting mad, he thanked his Gods. After all, in place of his Bladder, they could easily have picked his Bowels!!!
Men, how often do we sit down in that position – that particular one, with one hand resting on the arm of the chair & other one caressing our tilted chin, with eyes staring into the past or the future and our mind running on the Treadmill of Thoughts – taking stock of life, wondering, “Why do I suck in all those Big interviews, 1st dates, jittery presentations
& meetings with boss?” In case, u haven’t realized the answer yet, feel your chin once again. Literally! Still no clue? The reason is – Your Stubble / or the Absence of it.
Yes. The only perceivable difference between our ‘Normal’-Self & our ‘In-the-Interview’-Self is the Missing Stubble! The entire farce of the Interview (or other above-mentioned occasions, like girl-situation…) is a big fat conspiracy to make us feel alien inside our own body – the Leather Shoes, the Formals, the Tie! And getting rid of our laboriously cultivated Stubble is the starting nudge towards the spiraling fall that inevitably follows…
Imagine u r in your favorite food joint – that’s KFC, of course. U order a bucketful of chicken. When it arrives, u discover, to your horror, that the Crunchy, Crispy Skin, the skin that makes the ‘F’ in KFC stands out, is missing from all the pieces!!! The skin is the best part! And as this could be the worst possible way of serving KFC to customers, presenting
yourself without your Stubble, would be the worst way of self-presentation in front of people who can possibly change your life… Isn’t interview supposed to be the occasion to let the people ‘Taste’ the best of u?
Not long ago, I had an epiphany that our Stubbles have a direct connection to our brains. Every bit of caressing, stroking, scratching we do, goes into simulating those almighty ‘Grey Cells’. And this is so hard-wired into us, that every time we face a situation or confronted by a dilemma, our hand automatically travels northwards and takes vacation on our chins (or cheeks). Something must be cooking there, right?
Do I need to give the accounts of countless wise men who had one Distinctive feature common? A mere look at the history will tell us that the Strength of Sagacity was/is/will always be directly proportional to the Length &Thickness of the Stubble (even a ‘Goatee’ can work wonders on a Man’s intellect). Also, have u not openly wondered, why there r so many wise ‘men’ but only a few wise ‘women’? If u r carrying a Stubble, you’ll get the point. “A Man, without his stubble, is like a Jedi without his Lightsaber!” (Star Wars, anybody?)
The moment we pick that evil razor up, we spell doom for ourselves. The moment we put it down, stupidity begins with the application of a Burning after-shave. What moron, rubs salt own his own wounds! Thus starts a long train of uncomfortable situations, stupid responses and imminent failures… For once, our body tries to bail us out – our hand again travels northwards, trying to find its landing spot on our face. But, like a knee-jerk reaction, it draws itself back, sensing an inhospitable, alien surface. Casted out by our ‘grey cells’, we fall flat in every situation that requires even a pinch of intelligent response…
Owing to our self-caused misfortune, the whole situation turns into a catch-22! The troubles that follow after the departure of our stubbles, try to tell us about the point when it all started. We, stubbleless, clueless, abandoned by our brains, fail to hear through the noise of self-doubt. To make ourselves more ‘Presentable’, we start a vicious circle. A circle, which begins with a horrific morning ritual involving the evil Razor…
He knew something was happening when The girl, the one dancing on the stage, suddenly started looking FAT. “The cannabis has got me,” he told himself. He could feel the Bass in his head. He was… Happy. He tried to focus, or rather not to focus on the Dancing Fat girl, but to his horror, the projections in front of his eyes bent in space – as if somebody has put a magnifying glass over the Fat girl & pushed the rest, the crowd, the walls, the entire open air theater miles farther! “Heheh, the Halogen (floodlights) effect!” he reasoned. “I better leave before the Fat girl molests me!” he furthered reasoned. And he took off…
“I need a new walking style,” he said to a suspicious passerby after methodically studying his shadow. It must be really cool n heavy… like Sanju Baba’s. “Aye Circuit,” he mouthed while trying one style. He tried several others. Powerwalks… Casual, tilted head types… Moonwalks… “Hey, Wait! Didn’t I pass by this same light pole, like a minute ago? And a minute before that??” He suddenly came to senses. “wh… Where am I?” he wondered…
Inside the Subway, he ordered a sandwich. Toasted, all veggies, extra lettuce, extra jalapenos… he proceeded to give instructions. “bdbdblddlbd. bdbdblddlbd.” – He heard himself saying. To his surprise, the waiter did not look surprised at all! Relieved, he sat at a table, munching his Sub. “Did I ask for Southwest or Mint (sauce)?” he scratched his head, which by now had started feeling as if, he had just shampooed his hair with Head & Shoulder’s Cool Menthol…
As he was about to nibble on the last bite, a familiar face went across towards the toilet. “Oh God, No! Not these guys!” he prayed. He got out. There were more familiar faces waiting for him outside! They looked as much surprised as he was. Some pleasantries were exchanged. “What the… ! My friends won’t get off my back even in MY hallucinations!!!” he agonized. He convinced himself that he was Imagining them! (as he had read somewhere: ‘Your worst nightmares come to life only in your dreams.’) Making sure that everybody’s busy chatting n watching ‘birds’, taking the cover of the dark, he escaped…
After having ‘Seen’ zillion Déjà vus (e.g. passing by the same lamp post, thrice in 5 seconds) & climbing a never ending loop of stairs, he finally reached his room. After successfully wrestling with the lock, he switched on the lights. “Whoa!!!” he yelled. It wasn’t his room after all! The place looked serene, unearthly… and mysteriously familiar… “Is this…? Is this…?” he suddenly leapt forward, landing on his left elbow. “I have found the Cave of John Galt!!!” he said, with all the emotions in his heart…
I have never doubted the feeling that ‘Knowledge can come in a flash!’. It’s just that even though, over the years, I have been having ‘Flashes of Genius’, I was waiting for that experience they call ‘Revelation’. I Was. For their respective ‘Moments’, Buddha required a banyan tree and Mohammad, a cave. All that I needed was a Sub, a litchi juice, 3 Snickers, ear-splitting music & some Cannabis…
Have u heard of – ‘Death from seeing Truth’? I hadn’t. Until that moment. The ‘Ultimate Truth’ is blinding. It rips u apart, humiliates u to the guts and dwarfs u until u implode into nothingness. The waves of ‘Self Realization’ lash at u at such a brutal momentum, that after initial pangs of pain & panic (which are pretty short-lived), u lose all the resistance, and ready yourself to drown in the meaning of Life, Universe n Everything. Eating (Lays – American Style Cream n Onion) yourself to death or Hearing (Judas Priest) yourself to death become obvious choices to push yourself over the ridge…
And not oddly, u feel blessed that u have taken this ‘Leap of Faith’. Because, in your spiritual awakening, u have realized that the Death is far from what u had thought it is. It is in fact as now u can see clearly, a secret door, a stairway to the ‘Next Life’! A Life, in the middle of several ‘bygone’ & infinite ‘forthcoming’ lives!
“ Travel back in time to your school days. U r in 5th Grade now. Ask yourself how the hell did u land up there. Congratulate yourself for the ‘Huge’ efforts that were made in passing Kindergarten, 1st, 2nd,3rd, n the 4th grade. Now strain your curious 5th grade mind to find answer to this question: “If I want to earn a six figure pocket money, how many more grades shall I have to pass?” – Sec. school, High school, Graduate school, post-graduate school… ugh!!!
“ Come back to the Present. Imagine – ‘Your entire present life, is equivalent to an year spent in 5th grade! Each of the past grades, right from KG to 4th grade, corresponds to a separate, unique past life! Each of the subsequent grades (school, college, MBA, marriage…), corresponds to a separate, unique and more eventful future life, provided you pass the ‘Final Exam’ – Exam of Life (or Death)!! This ‘Final Exam’ has several aliases: Death, Spiritual Awakening, Revelation, Ultimate Truth, Enlightenment n many others…
“ As in different grades of school, your experiences in different lives are Similar though not same. Ur life is a level in a game of Pacman, only here u yourself move through the Maze (maze of Life), eating Dots (experiences) & avoiding monsters (who can demote u to a previous Life). Once u r done eating all Dots, i.e. living all experiences, u move to the next level- i.e. Next Life.
“ That’s about bitter-sweet experiences. What about people? Are they similar, like experiences? No! They r not similar, but The Same!! (U move up through different grades in school, so do your friends, don’t they?) The people u encounter in the Present Life are the same ones u had encountered in the past lives & will be meeting in your future lives. The only difference is that these people, like u, are maintained in the Different Versions of their Existence (version 1.0, version 2.0, n like…). This just means that your girlfriend Sweetie (version 20.0) in your 20th Life is only slightly improved version of your girlfriend Sweetie (version 5.0) in your 5th Life.
“ And this fits perfectly with the most widely observed phenomenon in the world. Everybody, every now n then, gets a feeling that they r surrounded by ‘Dumb’ people. But on the contrary, these ‘Dumb’ people, r in fact, the older versions (version1.0) of their existence & u (version 2.0 or 3.0 based on your level of frustration) r stuck with them until u move on to the ‘Next Life’ where u catch up with the Same ‘Now-Not-So-Dumb’ people in their enhanced versions (version 2.0). It is not different from the situation when all your friends have moved to the 6th or 7th grade & u (by the virtue of failing the Exam) r still warming the benches of the 5th grade. So, in reality, it’s u who is So Dumb, that all others surrounding u have already travelled to the Next Life & r expecting u to catch the earliest flight n show up. “
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As the ‘Moment of Truth’ approaches its Tipping Point, u start flying through the Universe of Lives, taking peeks into all your past, present, future lives. You try to store as much as u can of this journey in the narrowing compartments of your conscious mind. U become sure that tomorrow, u r going to wake up in a brand new Life. U fade into the ignorance hoping that u haven’t skipped many…
CWG are finally over. As an Indian, i MUST feel really proud and happy that after some ‘minor’ hiccups, games went smooth without further bridge-collapsing, dengue-outbreaking, bed-falling n snake-visiting…
I am glad. And Odd it may sound, hugely relieved! Because now, my hypocrite Facebook friends will have to find something else to fill their status messages and flood my timeline… Because for the last couple of weeks or so, there has been a shouting match going on between them as to who is more patriotic, more appalled (@ Kalmadi & Co.), more proud(of Indian athletes), and it has become a national duty to ‘Comment’, ‘Like’, ‘Superlike’, ‘Thumbs up’, every scrap that rests on your wall…
Sometimes I don’t really Get It! What do FB janta think before putting display of ‘Public Thrashing / Congratulations’ when they r aware that the subject of their Tirade / Praise is not in their friend-list or their friends’ friend-list (or even probably not on FB)? And everybody is so concern about their ‘Social (networking) Obligations’, that slowly but surely, we forget that we actually don’t give a damn about CWG! It reminds of a classic case of ‘Hanuman Chalisa – Email Chain – which we HAVE to forward to 40 people, or else…’ Or ask yourself otherwise – “Would u be willing to do this if your name doesn’t appear beside your ‘Comment’ or ‘Like’?”
If that were not the case, the games would not have been greeted with empty chairs (I know, because I’m a Delhiite.) Or say, how many of us can be honest, and admit to catching any sports action, barring hockey or sania or saina, at least on the TV? (Fireworks, Bollywood Dancers, ‘RangaRang Karyakram’, Fancy-Laser-Show: Do not count!)
This apathy, lamely disguised in the form of Facebook-directed love for CWG, makes a strong case for an evolving feature of the behavioural dynamics of modern India. CWG, for almost all of us, is just a statistic… like Sensex. A number, which we would like us to be informed of. Which Sport?, Who?, How? – Doesn’t Matter – Just give us the damn number! And Contrast this with cricket – We can’t stop gloating about how “Sachin, on 93, hit 2 consecutive 6s, over Long-on, to get to his 49th ton…” (So full of details!), because every time we say it, we reply n relive the moment.
But CWG? We keep track of CWG news, out of sorry compulsiveness. Here, we just want be kept updated just for the sack of being updated – In case the topic comes up in the all-important-office-conversation, we could throw some facts n score some points with colleagues! (much like ulterior motives housewives watching ‘Baas Bahus and Betis’ not for plain entertainment but for next day’s gossip…)
On the face of it, this behaviour looks mostly harmless. We find new things to ‘LIKE’ about & move on. But we leave behind the legacy of complacent administrators & incompetent athletes, who r thrown into oblivion for another 4 years… out of sight, out of mind. Have we ever considered that sometimes, ‘Moving on…’ is not a good thing?
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PS: If you r interested in the impact of social media and the ‘Revolution’ it’s going to cause in coming years, this piece by Malcolm Gladwell is a must for you.
My phone is reaallly smaaarttt! A smartass rather! Every time I make up my mind and try to get rid of it (it’s a ‘Dada Ji ke Jamaane ka Fone’…), it calls on my weaker sentiments – u know, ‘my 1st fone’, ‘gift from Dad’, ‘Companion of hard times…’ Blah… Blah… Blah…- and convinces me that it’s too precious to lose! Ok, I m not heartless!!! so I think – “what if it ‘accidently’ slips out of my hand and find its way out of the window? Nothing can be done ‘bout that, right?” So I try that. And expecting to pick up the bones of my dead fone (RIP, you…), what do I see??? Damn Nokia 2600 – in one skeleton – laughing at my face, saying as if, how glad it is to have found me back! With heavy heart, and an ugly fone, I pray for the next ‘accident’…
So this is my Nokia 2600 – One of the last few remains of the ‘Lost’ generation of indestructible phones… And no matter how much I would ‘pretend’ to hate it, this smartest (it honestly is…) piece of junk has been by my side for as long as I can remember… And for all I can swear, it’s getting wiser n wiser… like an old wine!
Not a day goes by without my Moaai’l (as my Bengali friend calls it) reminding me to be grateful towards it for saving my ass in dire situations. It’s tricky huh…, but the list is long…
• To Look Important:
Imagine u r surrounded by people who either don’t give a shit about u or treat u like one. Well, next time they r around, pick up ur phone, and hold it against ur ear. Make sure they r watching. Now utter some stuff like – “Yes”, “Right”, “Flight”, “Payment”, “Busy” – loud n clear. Give an impression that u r consulting over hotline with somebody from PMO…
Baaaammm!! Next thing u know, everybody starts giving u some ‘Bhaav’. Try it. This is experience talking…
• To Bail yourself Outta Situations:
U r stuck up in a boring conversation. Or a meeting. U hv no idea, or u don’t hv the slightest of the interest in what’s goin’ on. All u r doing is – ‘nodding n smiling’… ‘nodding n smiling’…
Suddenly your phone vibrates. U answer it to find some goddamn idea customer care chanting about some crappy ‘hellotune’ thing. U listen intently. Then look at the audience. N say triumphantly – “Gentlemen, u’ll have to excuse me. Family emergency!”
• Not to Forget:
Can u imagine how difficult it is to remember the 1-month, 3-month, 6-month anniversary of ‘Jab we 1st Met’? Remembering to give daily status update of hourly activity (with precise answers to Q like ‘what did u hv for lunch today?’) is hard enough a job already! Thank God, u hv ur mobile! Now u can set reminders to remember things, and set reminders to set reminders… (I do this a lot!!)
And it is not just for ‘saving-my-ass’ thing, my Antic Mobile can command some credit for some of my ‘joy-of-life’ things also! Take this for example : My Nokia 2600 gives an Excellent way to spoil my niece. My thlee-yeal-ol’ niece just loves that ‘Dog & Ball game’ – except in this case, it is I who fetch the ball (I mean the phone).
I, without my phone, is like ‘a cowboy without his hat!’(or like ‘Superman without his underwear’…) And I guess, maybe we r stuck with each other for a long haul. Whatever our ultimate fate will be, Right Now, our little companionship has too much to talk about…
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PS: This is my entry for the contest ‘Share Life Blogger Contest’ organized by Tata DOCOMO to celebrate the launch of their OneTouch Net Phone. Check out, it has some really cool features.
This must be the worst writer’s block I’m having…
‘cause I can’t think straight,
And I have resorted to poetry writing
This is definitely not my thing,
I know I suck big-time What if, I go on like this,
Sometimes I fear…
Until I throw up,
all the rhymes in the literature
My worst nightmare…
becoming someone I despise…
a poet, i.e.
And turning into an object of self-loathing! So enough!
Enough of this wordplay-shardplay,
Plz God, let there be light!
C’mon, get up. U need to get some action
(“Hey.. wo.. what…?” is my 1st reaction…)
Hurry up, put some cloths on,
It’s enough already! U have been wachin ‘Lost’ all week long…
This is your personal high, in feelin ‘Low’…
U look miserable, what’s the matter, Bro?
I mean, how could an easy, rugged, fella like u…
Go from ‘swearing by Die Hard’ to ‘watchin Half Moon’
And just when we r coming to terms with the ‘Mr. Lonely’…
U switch from ‘Love Actually’ to ‘Atonement’ to ‘if only’…
What happened to u man?? I’m a lil’ curious…
Let’s spill some drinks over it, Why… so… serious?
Ohh… No No No, Don’t give me that look…
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Answer:
“U know what is wrong with this world?” I stutter…
(“Oh, here we go again…” he says)
Everybody likes to feel sorry for others…
No No, everybody WANTS to feel sorry for others
Folks here, cannot get enough of self-pity…
Their eyes lit up, when others’ lives become messed up, and shitty
Always ready to turn any rocking boat into Titanic,
When, there is a potential Kate and Leo in the frame…
They particularly love this part,
‘Cause now they can read ‘Chicken Soup for the Soul’ to them…
I mean, what sick says shit like –
“What doesn’t kill u, makes u stronger!”
And extend our misery, a wee bit longer…
This is not cool Man… not cool.
“
तो सेक्टर 2 D के शापित महल मे 7 नमूने रहते थे…
लंबू, बड़े, फुर्रू, गोले, सेठ, बिन्नी, मौसी – लोग उन्हे कहते थे…
बड़े हमारे रोज़ Fair & Lovely लगते थे…
अपनी कोहनी को हर सुबे-शाम आईने मे निहारते थे…
“तेरी ओर.. तेरी ओर…” गाते थे…
पर बटेर बाज़ी करने का 1 भी मौका नही छोड़ते थे
बिन्नी तो घर की रौनक था…
पर उसे अपनी #### तुड़वाने का बहोत शौक था
बिन्नी के फंडे उसकी मुछो जीतने मशहुरे थे…
सेठ प्यार के मारे अपनी सोनेकी चैन देने को राज़ी थे
सेठ हम सब बच्चो को संभालते थे…
फिर भी सारे फ़ैसले हमीसे पुच्छ के लेते थे
ओर हां, सेठ घूमने के बड़े शौकीन थे…
शायद इसीलिए, पैदल कम, बाइक पे ज़्यादा पाए जाते थे
गोले गठान सबका चहेता था… Infocity मे सहेलियो को घूमाता था…
बॅस्केटबॉल, सालसा, गिटार, कॉमन फंड – हर जगा उंगली करता था…
बिन्नी के कंधे पे रखके सेठ पे बंदूक चलाता था
मौसी हमारी बड़ी मजेदार थी…
सबको पता था ये पोलीयो की शिकार थी…
शायद इसीलिए -“सब कुछ सही सपाट?” – की धुन बजाती थी…
और हर रात को लॅपटॉप चुरा ले जाती थी
लंबू… साला दुखी आत्मा, रोज़ ‘लॉस’ करके आता था…
‘बाइ-सेल-सेप-डेक-टिक-मार्केट-बोनस…’से सब TCSers को बोर कर देता था…
पर हाँ –
कोई माँगे या ना माँगे, कुर्बानी ज़रूर देता था
जब वीकेंड्स पे सारी जनता इकटठी मिलती थी… Cool-Point और NIFT के गल्ले पे ‘फ्रीकाउट’मचाती थी
और जब रात को “ओये! इट’स फ्राइडे!” वाली महफिले जमती थी…
मिलावट की दारू पीके पब्लिक ‘सेंटियापा’ मचाती थी…
लाइफ, जवानी, गुज्जु-लॅंड, बरबाद, फ्यूचर जैसी चीज़ो को हर बक्कर मे घुसाती थी…
टाइम बचा तो – ‘शैतान की बेटी’के किस्से रचाती थी…
और आखरी मे मौसी को नच्वाती थी
एक एक करके सारे पंछी उड़ गये…
घर के बुजुर्ग को ग@#$%नगर मे अकेला छोड़ गये…
अपनी अपनी लाइफ मे बिज़ी हो गये…
‘किप-इन-टच’की दुहाई देके Facebook के निवासी हो गये
Evry morn’ I brush ma’ teeth watching Qutubminar…
n she’s cold, she smirks – “Yeah, right!”
It’s a lovely sight, for yo’ eyes – a treat
“well,” says she, “I don’t give a Shiiit”
Precious, U r Always Right –
(I dare not pick a fight!)
“Don’t mock me,” she bites
Now, Now Sweeti, Don’t be Grouchy…
“Hey!! U broke the rhyme, u Lousy!”
Let’s make a lame attempt to please her…
her vein is popping out, just to ease her…
Listen babe, I wrote a poem for u
“Ohh.., is that SOO!!! Want me to say ‘luv u’…”
She’s upset from ‘You-Never-Call’ syndrome – I get it now
And I forgot the ‘Chick-Flick Talk’ – it hit’s me now
How r ya Baby, did u sleep well?
“Ohh… now u Care, u Inconsiderate. Jus’ go to hell!”
And so the tape begins – it starts with: “U Moron-“
I wait on the other end, patiently
But it drags on n on n on…
I summon courage, say – ‘Baby, Baby, my battery is dea…-“
She cuts me – midway – “Isn’t this what u always say!!”
Hello, Hello, Hello… Baby I m loosing u… … I improvise
“R u hanging up on ME!!!” she cries
“Can’t take it anymo’. I’ll hv to straighten u out!!”
– She’s mad… she’s red
And I m grinning, ‘cause ————– ‘That’s what she said!!!’ 😛
P.S. … Dear Sis, if u r reading this, remember – “I Love You …” 😉
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The most enjoyable thing about blogging is there r no constraints, no strings. You can scribble about anything, anything under the sun. Anything, except about your Sisters… Because Sisters r a fragile species. You cannot dare offend them. Not even tease them. Whatever u do to them, returns as a boomerang! So whenever I think writing something about ‘How much Sisters Talk’ – They talk a LOT man!!! – my guilty conscience, feeling guilty just for thinking something like this, pokes me from inside, pulls me up & shuts me down. HENCE, I have decided not to write anything, ever, about my Sisters…
Recently, my newly found sister asked (Demanded) – “You write about everybody. Why don’t u write about me?” I dreaded the consequences!
But They( u know who) Do talk too much!!!! Much too much!!! It starts with a missed call (ALWAYS a missed call!). You call back (or risk getting more missed calls!). When u say “Hello”, they hear “I’m all ears… ” When u say ”hmm…”, they hear ”Tell me more…” And finally, when u say something definitive like “Alright.” Or “Fine.” Or “Ok(Got it).” – they hear “DON’T stop.”
CLICK the Picture !!!
And it’s not like u can win with them in any argument. Every little point u make ( except for intuitively spaced “ok.” or “OK?” or “Ohh…Kay!!!” or “Ohh…”) , is a recipe for more story telling, more gossiping n more “I-don’t-know-what-to-do???” sessions…
Sometimes it is so vivid, if I try a little, I can project a 3D(even 4D) image of each of their BFs n BFFs n friends-turned-foes on the floor of my cramped room!
And u can NEVER hung up on them! When it becomes unbearable, and you r on the verge of saying, “Oh Sis, u r killing ME!!!”, instead, u bite your arm n try to divert the pain. Doesn’t work. You start counting for magical words like – “Chalo, I’ll talk to u later…”
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I know what my sisters’ response is going to be after reading this. I expect nothing less than an hour long “Wat’s this, Dada!!!” lecture. C’mon Sisters! Give me your best shot! Haven’t heard from u for a looooong time…
“You know who else has got a 3rd party compliances issue?” he said, swinging along with his glass.
We didn’t bother to ask. He was known to talk rubbish under the influence of… well… pretty much everything.
He pointed towards me. And so the story began –
“This one time, we were travelling to Surat, in Paschim. We – I & this guy Adi here (pointing me) – had just reserved our seats by throwing a Handkerchief through the window (a standard practice in all modes of transportation barring airplanes!). We were excited n animatedly talking about things boys talk. The compartment was filled with all kinds of animals – man, women, children, beggars with harmonium, chai wallahs… The setting was perfect. Or Almost! Because no sooner than the TC left, out came a 3rd Party Alliance, CLAPPING their hands…
“Now, let me take this moment to enrich your knowledge of 3rdParty Alliance: ‘Hijras’, as they r popularly known, come in different varieties – distinctly male, indistinctly male, bulging biceps kind, hairy kind… And in colourful saris. They know where to find u. And try your best, you cannot avoid them (much like Himesh Reshmia of couple o’ years before), Because of they have a tendency of getting physical.
“But indulge them, and they will shower on u all the blessings there r in this world. If u request (or happen to be pregnant), they can get extremely creative with their wordplay. And, oh, it’s always in your best interest to indulge them! Unfortunately, very few people have heard of this wisdom.
“Now, I know u won’t believe me, but as soon as our dreaded guests arrived, I knew that I am seeing a familiar face! One of them was a ‘Regular’ on the Paschim & so was I. He (or ‘She’?) recognised me & smiled. I nodded & handed him a 5 Rs coin. He waited for Adi. I, instinctively, elbowed him who had suddenly started looking out of the window. Adi looked at me, then looked at the ‘Hijra’ & again went back to ‘Looking Out of the Window’ thing. Now, here, I could have paid the Hijra on his behalf, but somehow, I didn’t. Off course, I did not want to miss out on the Fun that I hoped would follow. I wasn’t disappointed.
“The Hijra came near Adi affectionately. He caressed Adi’s chin & called him, “Mere Raja…”. Adi startled. He had never been blessed with the presence of a touchy – feely Hijra. “What the FUCK???” he asked the Hijra. Hijra politely asked for money. Adi refused n threatened him with Police. Hijra laughed n threatened him back with ‘Mumbai Darshan!’ (u know, when they lift their…. ahh… saris up and present u a nasty view…). An entertaining argument followed. But then, much to all our viewers’ dismay, the Hijra let go of the whole situation and moved to the next coach. Adi breathed a sigh of relief!
“Hours passed. As our destination came near, we decided to un-stiffen (if that’s the word…) our bums and breath some fresh air. We came out & stood at the doors. On the opposite door, same Hijras were sitting. Adi tried to ignore them. They started passing comments. Whenever Adi glanced, they gave him the meanest look possible! Exasperated, he excused himself for a toilet break. After spending as much time one can spend inside a Train-toilet (unless u r a pervert), he finally came out – To find the smiling Hijra standing right at the door of the toilet. To my utter amazement (and concealed delight), the Hijra pushed Adi back in, followed behind &…… & he locked the door from inside!!! Seconds passed like minutes. After 2 full minutes, the door opened, out came the Hijra, grinning from ear to ear. There was a 10 Rs note in his hand. I held my nerve. After a moment or two, my poor friend appeared, looking as if, he had seen a ghost! (He had indeed!!! – “Bushy,” he told months later when I started teasing.) He came near me & smiled, sheepishly – a smile that said “Don’t ask!”
I am a little worried here. My man, Lance(look above) is under the doping radar. Yes. This man, who almost lost his life (and balls) fighting testicular cancer, came back & won a world record 7 Tour de France in row, and in process, achieved an another world record of officially urinating (for anti-doping agencies) more than any other athlete. Because, everybody thought, how the hell could somebody like him, just come, ride a bicycle for 21 straight days, 3500 kilometres, in murderous conditions & stand on the podium, wearing yellow jersey! And hence they tested him, for every banned substance on the planet. They found him CLEAN, every single time.
But, now, when he is finally retired for good, the ghosts have come to haunt him again. This time around, because of some sensational allegations, by his own fellow bike riders, who rode with him all these years. And to tell the truth, I too am a little confused here.
What if, Lance Armstrong is found guilty? What if they strip him off all those wins & all those years of his life? I am not worried about him. I am worried about myself. Should this make me think less of him? Should I feel cheated n tricked into worshipping him for all the inspiration he has instilled in me & millions like me? Or should I… just erase him from my conscience?
After much deliberation, I have come to… umm… sort of conclusion (Although ‘confusion’ would be a better choice.) And I have decided to follow my heart and worship my hero – even if he turns out a ‘Cheat’. Because cheat or no-cheat, he has already done the damage – by thrilling us & inspiring us.
Remember your heroes. Those heroes, who in their glorious career, had some rather hideous moments. Remember Andre Agassi, who fought like a champion & lost like a champion, but confessed last year about testing positive for crystal meth. Remember Che Guevara, arguably the most cult figure of last century (& certainly the most T-shirt friendly!), who is sometimes reviled for being a cruel mass-murderer and narrow minded tactician. Will this stop us from sporting him on our chests? I guess not, because we are in love with a different Che, who romanticizes our minds & pumps our hearts.
And, by the way, who needs Clean, sensible heroes nowadays. (‘Hero’ by definition sparks ‘Heroics’!) We love madmen! We love Sehwag, who with his ‘Devil may care’ style, pelts the bowlers for sixes when he is a stroll away from century. We love, Usain Bolt, who, sprints with untied shoelaces & slows down to celebrate his win even before the race is over & still manages to break the world record by handsome margin!! We love (At least, I personally do.) cowboys, who without taking gun out of their pockets, shoot 3 bullets in 5 different directions, hitting bulls eye, all the while managing a cigar puff!!!
Dope can do many wonderful things; but no dope can make all this happen…
I was sitting in the canteen. Sipping my tasteless coffee. Logging in to check my mails. And just like that! Access Denied! I tried again… Access Denied!! again… This time typing each letter carefully… Access Denied!!! I closed my laptop.
I couldn’t tell what was wrong with my gmail. After a while, just to check, I logged into an alternate email account. I was let in. But now, a chat window popped out, flashing nothing but 3 weird smileys at me. I looked at the sender. It was me!!! The chat was being sent from the account that I couldn’t log into. I closed the chat window.( I don’t know why, it was just an impulse.) Unable to believe what I just saw, I opened the chat history. And well… there… I could find not even a trace of what I just saw … or I thought I saw…
I was really scared of the misappropriation of all my sensitive data in the account. But more than that, I was pissed at the thought that somebody has stolen my identity, my name! It wasn’t my actual name; rather it was a special name (fancy names that teenagers use when they open their email account for the 1st time… ) But, over the years, my virtual identity had become synonymous with this name (‘thefountainhead’, it was called – named after a book that I call my bible.) And it meant something to me – something that my official name didn’t. It was the only face of my social presence!!! And wherever I went (twitter, fb, digg…) it came along. We shared some invisible bond. (“Don’t spoil my name!” it used to tell me.) And now, I was mad that some inconsiderate SOB had stolen my name & he was going to screw with it!
I had started preparing for damage control plans – asking my contacts to ignore any inappropriate messages n take my new address, Change all my social networking n other passwords…, and a hell lot of other stuff! ( I even googled for WTF emoticons to express my shock, anger, and all other rushes of emotions…)
When I pulled myself together and looked back, I saw that I had it coming… I should probably have done something when my orkut profile one day became fan of ‘I Luv BIG Boys’ community – without telling me!!! Because in no time I became friend n fan of hundreds of such queer groups n individuals. But I just… ignored it.
Can u imagine how difficult something like this is to say to your father who thinks you r his Baap-ka-Naam-Roshan-Karega Son (my younger brother was an asshole back then…), to whom a free medical seat has been handed out on a platter? Imagine. Never in your family, not even in your far off relatives, there has been a Doctor… It is your one chance of being grateful to your father, for everything… You can see a pride his eyes when he practises – “My Son is a Doctor!!” – line over n over in his head…
So, with all this background, I closed my eyes n said, now out loud, “Dad, I don’t want to be a Doctor.” Dad was in shock! He tried to reason with me… Then he tried to intimidate me with his anger… But to no avail!! I set out to pursue my own dreams… Crushing his…
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I always wonder, “Has Dad ever really approved of my choices?”… It’s not difficult to remember the matters over which our views were/are poles apart. And I have always been as disobedient as a Son could ever be. There were times n situations, where I had enjoyed proving him wrong, but it came later as an Epiphany that he never really wanted to win… Now, when I look back, I realise how hard it must have been for him to put up with an unruly elder Son (fortunately, my younger brother did not inherit my wayward ways!)
When we were kids, I always use to put all the blame of anything sinister on my younger brother, to avoid getting caned by Dad… (“WHAT did you do, ADITYA??” Mom would SHOUT.) But Dad never showed any stinginess in thrashing us!! Afterwards, we both would get mad at Dad. I would immerse myself in a storybook in a corner & brother would eat lots n lots of tomatoes… (He had this unique way of expressing his anger!) After a while, our anger would melt away in the smell from kitchen… And Dad would call out – “Whooooo’s Hungry?”
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Nowadays, my Dad is a happy man! He thinks, or at least I guess he thinks, that both his Sons (the younger Son is not an asshole any more – He is a Doctor!) r on their way to make something of their lives… He celebrates this feeling every Saturday by helping out Mom making Kanda-Bhajis (Yes, Onion Pakodas r his favourite!!!) He no more treats his elder Son as a Boy. Every once in a while, he sends him forwarded email messages (with a trademark signature – “With Love, Mom n Papa”), to blend in with Son’s ‘Generation’, or to reassure his Son that he is not obsolete…
Everything seems so fine now. It’s just that Dad’s protesting voices (admonishing me over my choices) have become feeble … I sometimes miss that…
My trip to Mumbai never goes without a pilgrimage to 2 of the most revered places in the city :
Haji Ali – Heera Panna, Seetaphal Cream, a sunset on-the-Rocks, an occasional ‘Mannat’…
And a little south, Bombay Streets.
Now here is my equation with the Streets in Bombay – Mumbaikars, owing to the very fact that they r Mumbaikars, never really had/have/will’ve time to appreciate ‘pity’ things like streets n D-gangs n rains (a new addition!). Unfortunately, my parents happened to be hardcore Mumbaikars, deep deep down from the roots of their ancestry. So obviously, I was raised, hugely ignorant about the streets of Mumbai, until one fine weekend, Mr Shantaram, literally(I mean, by writing a book…) rediscovered them for me!!!
The deal with Bombay streets is that they r littered with soooo many fanciful places & monuments that some of the other interesting places have either lost their existence or have become commonplace. So the most enjoyable way to explore Bombay belly is to become Your Own Guide. Because if u make a mistake of asking for directions, the chances r that u will almost always get a “Seedha Jaaneka. Signal Cross Karneka. Aani (‘And’) Teda Valneka (‘Turn either Left or Right’ – u must look at the hand motion of the person).” So basically, u r on your own. And it’s quite a fun, if u ask me!
If u happen to find the famous Fashion Street (and u will, cause people always do.), u will marvel at the ridiculously low prices at which one can get all the fancy, fashionable items for which they burn your pockets in those Westsides, Pantaloons, Shoppers stops !!! A little low on quality though, the place is thronged by thousands daily to feel a little rich n look a little ‘hip’…
No such quality issues with the Books though, if u happen to be an avid reader & interested in buying a handful (I always buy a bucketful). Book Street is THE place for u, which is at a shouting distance. If u have no moral issues with Cheap, Duplicate, Pirated books and you r brilliant at the exquisite art of shameless bargaining (yes, shameless), then this is the place for u!!
One of the hazardous side effects of earning money, which I have a 1st hand account of, is that u lose your bargaining power… my advice – Haggle a bit! Vendor will never feel offended, he will always ask u to name an ‘Ek dum Final price’ even after u name One several times.
I’m CHEAP…
My friend always pulls me up for buying this pirated stuff. And I always ask her to take it easy. I tell her – “When I get Filthy rich, I’ll buy all the originals … n put them in a show case…” Obviously, it’s little difficult to convey the real emotions…
I started off buying these cause I was a little short on money. Now, when I have money (just a few spare bucks!), I just don’t want to miss the thrill in reading cheap, pirated books. Not to mention all the extra fun in the bargaining…
May be deep down inside, I don’t want to betray myself – as I owe almost 90% of my intellect to such ‘frowned upon’ stuff like cheap books, pirated CDs, illegal downloads… Cheapness is so ingrained in us that doing all the above mentioned things actually makes me feel nearer to my roots…
My Roots…
In Marathi language, there is a popular retro phrase called ‘Jeevachi Mumbai!!!’ meaning ‘indulging oneself in all the worldly pleasures’ …
And we Mumbaikars r quite adept at it! All it takes is : a JUMBO glass of Sugarcane juice(Rs 10), a JUMBO Vada Pav(Rs 7) n plentiful of salty breeze from Arabian Sea (popular alternatives r – ‘Marine Drive’ / ’Gateway’ / ’Bandstand’ / ’Chowpatty’ / ’Haji Ali’, the list is endless…). What else can one need???
Hey, what’s up with all these borrowed sentiments lately??? I mean, to begin with, the only thing worthy of prime time coverage that comes out of FM’s Pakistan visit is the ‘footage of national flag hanging upside down’ & media questioning Chidambaram (“How could u?” & “Such a Disrespect!!!”) over nothing but this!!! To follow this up (& finish off the remaining patriotic juices…), we dig deep & find some story in TIME magazine where some frustrated Journalist calls Indians ‘DotHeads’ 🙂 And God!!! We all act so pissed off!!! I mean…, Seriously??? And just to add a little spice (as if we need any!!), there comes the most celebrated book in recent history – ‘Shivaji: Hindu King in Islamic India‘. I mean, what was the Supreme Court thinking in lifting the ban on the book that somewhere contains some passage mocking the parentage of Shivaji?? Nobody, can toy with Maharashtrian Asmita (Pride, u know…) while Shivsena is alive!!!
‘Voicing-your-opinion’ has become a sort of Oxymoron now a days. Our opinion is honest only until it’s in our head. We fear that people will judge us by what we say. And we sincerely try to sound ‘Politically correct’ or ‘Morally correct’ whichever acts as a crowd puller.
It’s ok to be conscious about being judged upon what u say. Just don’t ignore the most important person who is gonna judge the every little thing u say out loud. It’s You.
You know, it’s funny, whenever I make any politically correct statements like – “Piracy is Bad…” or “Watching porn is disgusting…” or “I support women empowerment…” – a tiny, little voice inside my head say : “WHAT, CRAP!!!” It’s difficult to be honest with yourself. But I’m getting there, albeit slowly.
“YOUR MIND IS THE SCENE OF THE CRIME” Sometime back, when they did a survey of law abiding – liquor consuming citizens of ‘DRY’ Land Gujarat, the Stats ( i.e. Number of ‘Yes, I Do.’s ) came out to be inversely proportional to the money the bootleggers are making. Intriguing, huh…?
There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable.
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There is another theory which states that this has already happened.
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………Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
#Robots.
When I was in college (Yeah!! …), a search party was always on the vigil to hunt Species who would eat-pray-n-sleep books & screw our grades… (not having any population of Fairer sexes was of little help here…) These guys were gud. In fact, they were perfect. In fact, they were so obediently, disciplinarily, brilliantly, perfect, that people could predict with fair amount of perfection when these guys would be in toilets n lock the doors lest they should attend the morning classes… But the guys stood their ground. And, in retaliation, tricked many of us into following them. Most of us did!! Because mimicking them started paying off – well, at least on the paper…
That’s that.
#Stupid Columbus!!!
Has anybody ever tried to give u a Pep Talk on how one should learn from his mistakes & blah… blah.. blah…? Oh, wrong question!! Say – “How many times…?” The only thing we seem to (This too is an Illusion…) learn is ‘How to avoid that last mistake!!’
Columbus once made a mistake. A Blunder, in fact!! He set out for India. Ended up just some thousand miles short!!!
Wouldn’t it be nice, for a change, that somebody comes over, pats your back, n says “Gud job Pal. Keep it up. Make some more mistakes!!!”
I have a theory that God went terribly wrong with his plans for Genesis… And… well… rest is history…
#Some Space for Devil…
So this is how we MUST do all the things all the time. Our own way. And always leave a little room for the Devil – to mess things up – just for Fun!! And if nothing works, we can always rely on Paul, the Octopus …
Sometimes I ponder over what Lady Gaga has to say about this. She goes –
“ Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun
And baby when it’s love if it’s not rough it isn’t fun, fun … “
10:15pm Sweeti is online… Should I ping her? Oh NO… don’t wanna sound too desperate…
11:00pm The Blog has been DEAD for a while now!! Feels like ages since I posted anything… Think. Think. Think…
01:15am Fuck!!! Can’t get rid of this MENTAL BLOCK!! Saala koi topic hi nahi mil raha… I hate B’lore… And why is Sweeti still online?? Aarre!!!! What is there to ‘LIKE’ about Vikram’s status msg??? Damn u, Facebook!!!
02:05am Saala, Neend bhi nahi aa rahi… 😦
02:20am Saala, Time bhi paas nahi ho raha… 😦
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10:04am Fuck! It’s 10 already!! Hope, the water is running…
10:40am It’s 3rd day in row, I skipped bath… Hope nobody notices…Ar… Yeah… AXE Effect is working… Hey, there is my bus…
11:25am Boss is gonna Kill me!!! Think of an excuse… Think. Think. Think… Will somebody please SMASH this TV!!! What’s up with this –“Showing Rajnikanth-movies in the buses”… Anyways… Think. Think. Think…
Ok, Ok. Call me a weirdo, but I’ve got to confess: “Home Sucks Big Time!!!” There. There I said it… cause I can’t have it no more!!! “Why? What??” u might ask. Wait, let me explain…
Parents could be at times pain in ur…well, forget I said it… A doting mother leaves no stones unturned in pampering u with all ‘Fatty’ n ‘Oily’ affection she showers on u, not to mention all the spicy gossips she shares “just for ur information, Beta…” so that u can know ur neighbours & relatives ‘better’. A proud father who introduces his son to everybody with an added suffix of ‘-MBA’ (& son smiles shyly…) & who suddenly starts asking son’s ‘expert (MBAed)’ opinion in matters like buying property, shares n home interior… son only wants to be left alone, with his fish tank… Having a younger sibling doesn’t help either. He wants u to watch his back while he’s out having a jolly gud time with GF. And u can’t be mad at him either because he buys u a really cool T from his 1st salary. (“This is for u Bro,” he says.)
The point is: “I am Sooo not cut out for this. A social misfit u would say. But why blame me, I used to be a gud ‘Kid’, before I left home for the first time. & then, well, everything changed… It was like, till then, for 15 long years, a Vampire (read: ‘yours truly’) had been bred in the family of pure veggies. But the Vampire, once tasted the blood infected with LIFE, was game for it. It was a life, he had hardly imagined for himself. But then, the more he got of it, the more he became addicted. Away from ‘watching’ eyes, he enjoyed every bit of freedom he got…
Nowadays, whenever there is a ‘Homecoming’, I feel like a fish out of the water… or a Harry Potter outta Hogwartz !!! (It has now become a favourite pass time to picture myself in a magical world… n watching ‘Supernatural’ doesn’t help either 😦 ) It feels as if, when at home, I lose all my powers… like when Superman is forced to wear the necklace made of cryptonite!!! Somehow I am more lazy, more dumb n more sleepy in the ‘home sweet home’. (might be one of Mom’s secret potions or something…)
The other day, a cousin excitedly suggested, “Let’s all plan a grand get together this Diwali!!” ”Urr, I am gonna pass this time…” I coyly muttered.
Hey, have u ever had the feeling of being at the centre of the earth with everyone around u – being the preprogrammed puppets they r – helping u to ‘Be You’??? Strange as it may sound, for me, Life has always been a TRUMAN SHOW!!!
Anyways… So today, I wake up in morning & don’t feel like getting outta bed!!! Probably it’s just weird me… or I m yet to recover from the grief of yet again seeing one of my favourites lose out in the finals… Barcelona this time… (n the list is growing – Liverpool, Mumbai Indians & now this… ) So dragging my lazy arse (British r funny!!), I attend all the nature’s calls & quickly jump in the bed again. I m just not in the mood… To kill some time, I search the LAN, & come across some series named ‘Flash Forward’. I watch the Pilot episode… & then I watch 9 more episodes back-to-back-to-back… 5 straight hours… it’s one of those kinds where they keep all the adrenalin-rushing events for the last 7 minutes n when u r about to jump of your sit (or a ‘bed’ in my case) the ‘To Be Continued…’ flashes in your face!!! So, basically, they suck u into watching ‘just one more’ episode every goddamn time…
The plot is like this: “One day, everyone on the planet, blacks out for exactly 2 min 17 seconds & sees a part of their future – their future unfolding on the exact same date six months from the black out. As all these pieces of visions/dreams come together, some try to change the future while others resign themselves to their ‘definitely-about-to-happen’ fate…” So yeah, I get sucked into the Flash Forward… (& here, fans of ‘24’ can empathise with me…)
Now here comes the ‘awesome’ wala part. Hold your breath… It’s evening, I m coming back from gym, & it hits me!!! “The date on which the ‘blacked out’ people saw their future unfolding is 29th April, 2010.” “29th April, 2010!!! Today!!!” I repeat out loud… means “Today, on 29th April 2010, I saw, a series which has 29th April,2010 as D-day!!!” I feel like blown apart… I mean… “What r the ODDS!!!”
& I swear to god, I did not make this up!!!
Now I m really thinking… Was it arranged for me to watch this particular series today??? Was I destined to feel ‘moody’ in the morning??? Did Barcelona played out their part perfectly n lose last night purposely to make me feel bad??? The thoughts scare the hell out of me!!!
It’s night. N it’s exam time… I try to pull myself together to ‘Burn some midnight oil’ (by studying, off course…) But now I get another Flash – “If it’s already scripted (in the future) for me to get a 7-pointer, then what the hell m I studying for???”
Then something tells me wouldn’t it be ‘Awesome than awesome’ to write about all this stuff on the 29th April, 2010 itself???
I call out to my laptop…
P.S. How come I always get these visions when I m about to apply myself to actually doing something??? Am I destined to be lazy?? I’ve got no clue…
It was 5:45 when Raju woke up from a horrible, horrible nightmare. Sweat pouring down from his temple, Raju looked around. The room was in a mess!!! Scrambling for his glasses, Raju stepped onto what looked like a half-eaten sandwich. When he wore them, his mouth opened with a big “OW!!!” Apparently somebody had tried to carve out a big, red AC-DC onto the wall!!! “Somebody…,” he wondered…
Permanent Damage…
Raju tried to remember the series of events that occurred in his dream. And, an unusual nausea took over him. Every bits n pieces he could remember, scared the shit out of him!!! For once, he thought “This would be the day, when Raju lost his innocence…”, for, he thought- in a brief span of a dream- he experienced all-those-things-that-must-not-be-spoken-about !!! “Fuck!!!” he cursed…
Funnily, a sense of ‘Permanent Deja` vu’ came to possess him. “From now on, Everything that will happen to me, must already have had happened to me!!!” Raju thought. “What if,” thought Raju, “any of this… is not… unreal???”
Shortly afterwards he remembered about the 2 Tablets he took last night, one after the other…
Jai Jai Shiv Shankar…
(The night before…)
Raju had been warned about the Power of the ‘Bhola’ baba & the Eternal Happiness it brought to all the humble devotees. Shortly after he started laughing, the 1st hammer hit on his head. (“THANNN!!!!” it even made a sound for Raju to recognise it.) Ecstatic, “Let’s go for a walk,” he said to himself. And he took off, with his wallet n mobile, for one of his ‘just-strolling-in-the-campus’ kinda walks…
What happened thereafter, got lost in the horrible memory of our protagonist…
What’d I say…
(Back to morning…)
“Phew!!! One hellua night!!!” exclaimed Raju. He unlocked the mobile to look at the time. And his eyes froze!! ‘6 missed calls’ it showed. With his heart in his mouth, Raju clicked to view the details.
It was ‘The’ one number that u always keep in your phonebook but never dare to dial. Or like ‘The’ one facebook profile u always invariably check-out but never dare to leave a comment or a ‘Like’… So it was ‘The’ Number!!!
“Should I call back???” Raju took an eternity to decide. After much hesitation, he finally made the call. A sweet, gentle voice picked it up.
“Err.. Hi… Sweeti??” said Raju after a brief pause.
“Hey Raju!!!” Raju felt a naughtiness in her voice.
“Err… Did I… Did we… What did I……” before he could finish his sentence, Sweeti started giggling.
“Welcome to ‘The Game’, Mamu!!! I am the ‘Master’ (call me ‘Baba’…) & this is my castle… What are you waiting for??? Come, guess the response of Ranbir Kapoor through your comments & win prizes worth 50 lakhs – ‘PACHHAS Tolaa, Mamu!! PACHHAS Tolaa!!!’
The Challenge
The Ultimate Pepsi resides in the farthest room of the castle, in the hands of an ill-tempered Angel. The path to the room is guarded by a squad of 49 gorgeous but Deadly ladies who won’t think before killing you at the order of their mistress. How will Ranbir get to the Pepsi in single piece??
Easy, Huh?? Wait!! Here is the catch…
The Catch
1.Hold Thy Towel…
The ladies here would not fall for ‘Oops!! I-dropped-my-towel’ trick. Save the efforts…
2. Drop Thy ‘AXE’…
The ‘AXE Effect’ turns these ladies OFF!!! So sprinkle your ‘Charm’ with caution…
—————————————————————-
What will be Ranbir’s response? Got any clue?? Please comment…
What is the One thing that I would definitely take with me before some pissed off Vogen ship destroys planet Earth to build an intergalactic express way??? My twitter account, off course!!! If u r a Hitchhiker like me & the only Earthling left in the entire Galaxy, how else do u propose to recreate the world & procreate the mankind out of sheer vacuum???
The new planet (‘Twirth’, we shall call it.) will be created out of a SMALL-BANG!!! With all tiny tweets forming a soup of Human Intellect… Memories will be dug out of oblivion, thoughts will be reshaped, memes will reappear, and so shall begin the evolution… There will be no place for all the boring, longish speeches & lectures – if at all they arise owing to some mutating agents, they will be wiped out like petty Dynasores.
Haiku (17 syllables) will be the only accepted form of poetry & Tongues will momentarily be sealed after a burst of 140ish characters… Holding lectures for 3 hours or making students read 30 pages Gibberish will be treated as criminal offence… (Exceptions can be made for Bloggers, considering them as aliens or endangered species…)
A special “Right to 140 characters Bill” will be passed wherein all the feminine species shall be obliged to respond in no more than 140 (or in some special cases 180) characters when requested by their weaker counterparts… “Who gives a crap about, ‘What’s on your mind?’(read: FB)” – sort of thinking will be encouraged to root out social lethargy & improve productivity. Instead, “What’s Happening? (tweet…tweet…)” – will be the tune everybody shall sing…
P.S. Hey, this would be my 100th tweet… as I publish this post. I’m so thrilled right now…
Every day, @ 5, when the school-bell used to ring, Raju would make a dash for the Van to grab a seat beside Sweeti Didi. He liked her presence. Sweeti Didi lived next door to Raju’s & they grew up playing together. There was only one problem – Raju hated calling her “DIDI”… … …
Sweeti’s younger sister Richa – everyone used to find her adorable. And, Richa, in fact, had a massive crush on Raju. So every now & then, she would come to Raju’s house to borrow some ‘Chini’ or ‘Help’ Raju’s mother. Raju, being a boy he was, would occasionally bully her. Little Richa would relish those moments… … …
Wretched Love
Autumn came. With it, came the Adolescence… Sweeti was now famous in entire ‘Mohalla’. Raju had started wearing full trousers to the school. Richa had also turned into a fine sport…
Owing to Sweeti’s insistence, Raju had agreed to become Richa’s dance partner. In return, Sweeti had granted him an unconditional favour which could be encashed in time in future. While Raju was still building some courage (to face Sweeti & encash the favour), Richa was getting closer to him by each passing day. In the dance practices, when he would hold by the waist, she would become conscious. Her body would become stiff. Couple of times, accidently, she even hit him on the chin…
One day, Raju told Richa how friends are teasing him by her name. “How Foolish r they, to hook us up like that!!!“ he laughed. “Do u like someone else??” She asked him, making an effort to keep the smile. “Maybe…” he winked @ her… … …
Richa stopped coming to dance practices. n started avoiding Raju. Because, even a mere site of Raju – with his evergreen smile – would cause her insides to burn. She grew distant… n temperamental… One day, when Raju wasn’t around, Richa went to his house, and secretly stashed some Adult Magazines under his bed. A couple of hours later, Raju’s mother found them while cleaning… … …
The Aftermath
Came June, n Raju was unceremoniously sent to a Boarding school in Nasik. Leaving Home for the 1st time in life, Raju vouched never to return to his beloved city. As years went by, he became a perpetual traveller – Nasik-Surat-Bhubaneshvar-Ahmedabad-Delhi… Yet he dreaded Home-coming…
Sweeti never got to know what really happened. The household maid told her a ‘Spiced-up’ version. “Pervert,” she sighed & went about her life…
n Richa?? Richa was devastated. She had never imagined the ramifications of her actions. The evening Raju left, She looked herself into the mirror n went paralyzed… She had turned into a Vampire…
P.S. As for Sweeti n Raju, fate did choose to cross their paths 7 years later… in an utterly absurd situation… but anyways, that’s a different story altogether……
As soon as u enter in a sleeping bag, it’s a Funny Feelin`. Initially, u imagine yourself to be an astronaut, ready to dive into the Hyperspace. U enjoy all the Comfort n Sponginess it offers, after all what more can u ask for in the middle of misty mountains… U share your excitement with fellow campers, but to your dismay, 80% of the conversation bounces of the thick walls of the sleeping bag n floods your own ears…Then, for a while – as per your To-Do List – u try to Philosophise, u know- by Tilting your head by 20 degrees n staring into nothingness… That doesn’t work either. U keep hearing an annoying sound – that of your breathing.
To your amazement, U feel a sudden urge of exploring night skies. And when u begin opening the Zip, millions of snowflakes rush in & fill up your nostrils. U finally give in & go dead again…like a Mummy. In your sleep, u dream about 101 ways of busting your way out of trench. Finally u come up with something like this –
When u r Monkey-Crawling …
Another way to take your mind of silly things is to immerse yourself completely in something as breath-taking as mountaineering – where a little mistake could turn fatal!!! Experience the Thrill in every step u take. Try squatting. Try crawling. Try falling in every manner possible. Fill pain shooting down your legs. Fill tired. Fill Hungry – But avoid temptation of eating poisonous wild strawberries. Take pictures. Lose directions. Fight fatigue. Fight for oxygen. Go numb – into the Wilderness… Until u realise –
There is an intoxicating pleasure in exhausting all your senses…
P.S. Oh!! Almost forgot about Monkey Crawling!!! Here u go –
Have you ever prayed to the God that your Mom would hit you with all her might??? Adi did, on the way to the Home. He was afraid that Mom would explode like a Balloon if she didn’t find a vent to her anger. She didn’t say a word. Her silence became unbearable to Adi. Desperate, he lied, “Aai, it wasn’t me, Aai. Rohit asked me to…” His words fell on deaf ears. Still he continued, “Aai, Please don’t tell Dad – ” Now Mom looked at him. She was trembling…
I’m standing in a Jacuzzi, stripped to my bare minimums. It’s getting Hotter n Hotter… I’m surrounded by men. n We r all enjoying… OH, Wait !!! Before u get any wrong ideas about me ( u DIRTY Fellas!!!) let me tell u, it’s only a Hot Water Spring, somewhere in Manali. n we r all, SEPERATELY, taking a bath, for supposedly curative powers of mineral springs.
It’s smelling Rotten Eggs (natural sulphur). n Sattu (Dear SatVindar Singh !!) has held his nose between his fingers. “Shit,” he says. “How can u tell this water is not coming straight from the drainage???” I’m too occupied to argue with him. After a day full of Trekking n Mountaineering, I’m enjoying every bit of the burning sensations the water currents r throwing. All my bones r dissolving in the water…
And Sattu refuses to enter in the Pond!! “It’s f***ing Hot!!!” He tells a Jewish guy, who enters anyway. Even small kids jump in, n Sattu contains himself by taking fotos. Everybody is diving, splashing, swimming, in the hot water. Finally, after much coercing, Sattu jumps into the pond. “My Balls!!!” he cries out loud!!! A 4 year old kid – ordered by his father to strip – takes this as his cue. n starts PEEing in the pond. Everyone starts laughing. Sattu goes mad…
GInger, LEmon, HOney
After an ‘eventful’ bath, we r sitting in a RoofTop Café cum German Bakery, sipping our Ginger-Lemon-Honey with some Chocolate Pan Cake, enjoying the view of snowy mountains, pine trees, n river Beas… n if this ain’t enough, Elvis is playing somewhere inside…
On a nearby table, a bearded Sadhu Baba is smoking his CHILIM, like he has all the time in the world… n once in a while, he is scribbling something, on his Apple – a MacBook… Behind Sattu, a gorgeous American girl is sitting, with couple of Jewish guys. She is smoking a Joint, n talking animatedly about her college, American History n 9-11. She is oblivious to my eves-dropping…
Sattu is still in foul mood. “I’ll not bring my wife to Manali for Honeymoon,” he says. To cheer him up, I grab the camera n ask him to give a ‘Facebook Pose’. He agrees readily. “A little to the left. A little more. Left. Perfect. Smile.” I click some pics… The American girl looks beautiful in those pictures. Suddenly, she unties her hair. I click some more pics (of Sattu, Off Course!!!) That cheers him up…
Elvis seems to have smelled the air. He starts singing ‘Can’t help Fallin’ in Love with u…’ I start humming. Even the Sadhu Baba starts humming… Finally the girl starts humming… I say to myself: “Elvis has never sounded so sweet………”
“TheQuick Brown Fox Jumped Over the Lazy Dog…” Don muttered under his breath.
“What??” asked Ishan.
“The Quick Brown Fox Jumped Over the Lazy Dog!!!” Don shouted back.
“r u…? OUT…???” Ishan enquired.
That Night
That night Don touched alcohol for the 1st time. He was filling up a SLAMBOOK – for a ‘Friend’. “It helps to pour some(booze) in when u want to spill everything out!!!” Ishan had prophesied earlier in the evening. Don followed…
Don used to hate filling SlamBooks for people. “Phonies!!!” he would say, behind their backs. n whenever he would get one, he used to write Funny Stuff, just to Bug them. So that day, when the ‘Friend’ came & thrusted the SlamBook forward, saying “Would u do the Honours??”, Don’s first reaction was: “Oh… What Crap!!!”
It was our last night in Bhubaneshwar. Ishan was lying on the floor after a Couple-O` Large Ones. He seemed happy. n Don?? Well, Don took the SlamBook out from the backsack. n he started writing…
Don had a ‘History’ with the ‘Friend’… He tried remembering the ‘GOOD STUFF’ about the ‘Friend’. He couldn’t. So he wrote about the BAD Stuff. He tried to sound Funny. But became Sarcastic. He tried hard to write ‘NICE Things’. All he could come up with was: ‘The Quick Brown Fox Jumps Over the Lazy Dog…’ But he kept on writing. Till the Pen started slipping…
Sunshine
It was very late in the morning when Don woke up. The SlamBook was gone… He tried remembering what he wrote… He received an Envelope after 2 weeks.It contained 4 torn off pages with Don’s handwriting… which read –
A man’s taste of music says a lot about his Personality, right?? Say, for example, anybody swinging to a Ghazal must really be romantic @ heart; and someone head-banging to heavy metal oughta be a bit aggressive n tad violent… right??? Who made these Stereotypes?? n How did we all got sucked into buying this??
Well, u know, we all develop our musical senses simply by listening around. During this journey, we r never bothered about what kind of music it is – we just like it, because it feels… pleasant… to our ears… ; & then some evil kinds enlighten us… about ‘GOOD’ music n ‘BAD’ music. These evil kinds almost always are our circles, friends n our idols. Suddenly, Our ‘Culture’ dictates our musical choices and Our(??) musical choices (which r non-existent!!) portray our ‘Nature’. Slowly n subconsciously, a certain type of music fits our ‘Image’, kind of ‘Defines Us’!!! And we don’t dare breaking our Image. We turn our ears deaf to all the BAD music: Punk, Pop, Rap, Rock… allHip-Hop!!! We listen what we r encouraged to listen: Regional, Bollywood, Kishor – Rafi, “Dil to Bachcha hai Ji…” ; And Incidentally, here, we never treat our ‘Dil’ as ‘Bachcha’. We want ‘Dil’ to be responsible – responsible enough to make responsible choices – choices that we think go well with ‘our Image’. We rarely let our ‘Dil’ to fool around, have some fun…
Is western music not worthy of our indulgence???
Papa don’t Preach…
Ok, just a little more… We all like (really???) ‘Home-made’ food, n we proudly (read – Clichédly) say so. Even then, we eat-out, try out different spices, to appease our Taste-Buds. So, why r we reluctant to explore different genres of world music?? It’s not that u have to get a ‘Global Perspective’ or something, & it’s certainly not a favour to the Artist. It’s, in fact, a huge favour on YOU – to give yourself a fair opportunity to explore your hidden abilities n senses… train your ears… flex your neurons .. right brain – left brain… n everything u can’t imagine yourself to be doing…
The problem is, Even When We Try, we’ve already got a feeling that we r not gonna like it – because – it’s too loud, too harsh, too crude – it’s something that we can never like!!!
Here comes the Elvis…
God bless America, n God bless U-Tube… for giving us Elvis n Bob Marley, Beatles n GnR, Iron Maiden n Nirvana… the list is too long… But it’s never too late to start, by picking up a few… n share the Bliss…
Here r some, that I’ve been listening to –
1. a lil’ less conversation
Who is better than the KING to set the mood…!!!
2. raindrops keep fallin’ on my head
When u r in the MOOD, u feel like…
3. no Woman, no Cry
some Reggae??
p.s. – How many of us secretly listen to Himesh Reshmia???
Pappu was an average kid. n his elder Brother… was… a Genius… Everybody knew that, from the beginning. So wherever he went or whatever he did, people always made comparisons, and concluded with authority, that Pappu could never be even the slightest of his Brother. Even his parents did not expect any ‘Miracles’ from him, after all they had got the elder son, to fulfil their dreams n make the family proud (“Ghar ka naam roshan karega!!!” n stuff)!!!
The only thing that bonded the brothers so well was that they Loved to Fight, even on petty things. The ‘Big’ brother used to Bully him. Pappu was his toy!!! Daily, Pappu would get a heavy dose of ‘Choke-Slams’, ‘Pile-Drivers’, ‘Rock-Bottoms’ n ‘Stunners’. He used to hate that. Whenever relatives would visit home, Pappu was made fun of n the Other got praised. Pappu would hate that too!! Despite all this, Pappu never really got mad with the Brother. He always lived under the shadow of his Brother.
n his Brother was a Rebel… When the moment came to fulfil his father’s dreams, he backed away, to follow his own Destiny… He left the home, leaving Pappu behind, to face the ‘Firing Squad’!! As the Brother spent next 7 years in Exile, the parents performed all their experiments of “PARENT-HOOD” on poor Pappu…
And despite all this, Pappu loved his brother, a lot!!! So much so that, whenever he needed a lil somethin extra, he remembered his ‘Bro’. When he did something terrible (in the eyes of his Aai n Baba), he rushed to his ‘Bro’ to bail him out. When he got hooked up with a girl, he dropped the ‘Bomb’ on his ‘Bro’. All this made the Brother feel very important. He got a kinda ‘Wicked Pleasure’ assuming that Pappu is dependant on him. He thought… this would go on… forever…
But yesterday he got a call from Pappu, who, shouting over the top of his voice, said, “Adi, tera bhai Doctor ban gaya!!!” The Brother felt a rush of emotions in his small heart. For the 1st time in his life he felt Defeated…
Wind was blowing. Love was in the air. “Will u b my GF??” Chully asked Idli. “NO,” Idli promptly said. n they lived happily ever after…
…… The End……
…… The Beginning ……
Chully Marwaadi was fond of singing. He was the Diamond of our Mechanical (MECH Rox!!) dept, Famous for all the wrong reasons… Once Idli said (We asked her to :P), “Chully, u sing soooo well. Please sing me one of ur favourites, pleeeeaasssssss…” Chully wahi par FLAT ho gaya!!! He was all pink… “Oh, no no. I’m not that good of a singer.” he said, blushing. But then Idli made a face (which translated like – “Won’t u do this FOR ME???”). That made Chully go weak in the Knees. He started singing: “Is Ishq me aisi Aag lage hooooooooo……”
…… Sometime BEFORE ‘The End’ ……
“I have a Thing for Idli Subramaniam,” Chully confided in me after it became too much for him. (Chully was never good @ keeping secrets. He trusted me with everything.)
“What Thing??” I played on…
“The Thing, u know!!! I think… I have… Feelings… for her…”
“N-I-C-E !!!” I gave him a friendly slap on the back. “When did this happen???”
“Do u think she fancies me???” Chully looked me in the eyes.
“Yeah, Dude. Totally!!!”
“Do u think I should go for her???” He asked, hesitatingly.
“Go. Get her Tiger,” I grabbed his shoulder. “I m Soooo Haaaapppy for u…”
Disclaimer – @ chully n Idli : “Guys, don’t frown. All the characters n events in this story r just some Figments of my Imagination… really…
I was playing Marbles(aka ‘Kanche’, aka ‘Goti’) in the backyard, when somebody touched my shoulder. It was Dad.
“Granny is gone,” he quietly said.
“Gone?? Where??” (I was trying to figure out how to dislodge the Red marble which was eating into my share.)
“Granny’s expired. We have to Go… Now…” Dad was a little unusual.
I grabbed a pocketful of marbles & we started walking – I all along the way cursing her – “Why did she have to go now??? ‘Expired’??(I have heard the words somewhere… before…) I was just about to win the entire Circle!!! (a game of marbles where all the marbles are put inside a circle and each player tries to dislodge maximum no. of marbles out with his OWN marble.) We reached her place.
Granny was Still… n Smelly. I looked around.
I saw my uncles, aunties, other familiar faces – some standing, some sitting on the floor – all silent, serious – as if…
In one corner, there were some old ladies that I had never seen before. They were beating their chests, mourning loudly, telling stories about Granny… (Years later, I learned that these were the Professional Mourners!!!)
Next morning Dad took Granny(who was now resting in a Pot- a ‘Kalash’) for Visarjan in Godavari. I was inside, studying when he returned in the evening. My kid brother came running, said, “Adi, Baba(Dad) is looking funny. Come, look.” I followed him. There I saw my Dad, with his ‘Newly’ shaven head, n without a Moustache, smiling weakly at us…
(I have never understood the logic behind the Hindu Ritual asking the dear ones to shave their heads off & look as ugly n miserable as possible in the memory of the deceased…………, I mean…it’s outrageous…)
The Ceremony
Next 12 days were quite boring. We were not allowed to bring friends over to play Monopoly, no loud music, no watching WWF, relatives used to visit n talk in Whispers… And then the 13th day came.
I got the wind that this day would be a Grand Get-Together of sorts!!! And I was eagerly awaiting this huge re-union, where we all kids will be under one roof – Bringing the House Down, n all… Stuff… u know…
And that’s what we all did!! Kids n Adults alike!!! All the ladies were in Kitchen, preparing Granny’s favourite dishes (which I used to find quite distasteful…), Gossiping, Remembering n Retelling all the nasty things ‘Buddhiya’ did (Granny was a genuinely BAD person… – “Gone for the Gud,” agreed everybody.) Others were ‘Catching Up’ on stuffs, discussing ‘politics n country’, and overall having a Jolly Good Time!!
And then came the time for ‘Pinda Daan’ – we were told that Granny will come in the form of a Crow(Wow!!!) n take away her offering. Crow came – not one but quite a few. “Which one is Granny?” my kid brother asked. “Probably the one that is crowing the loudest,” I innocently replied.
Granny
Sometimes I miss granny. She was a lil mental, a nut-crack of creature…
She had this habit of chewing tobacco n paan. Her room used to smell a lot (of ointment n medicines n supari). And she never got along with anybody – tormented all her Daughter-In-Laws, made enemies, bitching to everybody about every other woman she used to meet…
Nevertheless, she used to be my source of entertainment. She had this bizarre habit of continuously talking to my grandpa (who was long dead!!!), cursing the birds for mocking her, and making funny faces while chewing her tobacco…
I inherited her room after she’s gone, but could never remove her smell from it…
Say, how would u feel, if Tomorrow, EU puts sanctions on us or USA forbids Indians to travel to their country?? pretty PISSED OFF, right??? Now replace India with Pakistan, n USA with India, and Bingo!!! u will see IPL-2010 glaring right @ ur face, with all its glitter n glamour, but without any Pakistani Players, for they were so ‘Ceremoniously’ NOT bought by any IPL franchisee owner… The reason, they say – that Pak Players did not find any takers!!! But Hello??? Is this the same team we r talking about that r the current World T-20 Champions??? During auction – rumour has it – Franchisees have been “very informally” asked to go slow on Pakistani players. Rumour!!!
Since childhood, I have always fantasized about a Joint India-Pakistan Team with Wasim Akram playing alongside Sachin n ………
Anyways, how does that matter anyway???
Death Penalty→ “Dimag ki Batti” to jalao!!!
Since last couple of months, a number of groups have been strongly advocating the claim of Death Penalty against the Rapist. Their case is: The perpetrator should think 100 times before committing such a Heinous crime. As if, until now, rapist had been thinking, that they can Get Away With a Softer Punishment, if they get caught, at all !!
I have my doubts about Death Penalty – I think it is too easy an escape for an individual for such a Monstrous crime (or even for a murder). And contrary to what all Human Rights Organisations would say – that “Who r us (Mortals) to punish other human beings n Blah Blah Blah…” – I contend my case by saying, “It just won’t serve the purpose!!!”
Now Think Logically: Suppose, Death Penalty is put in place. Now do u think it will deter a possible rapist from thinking about raping someone?? Off course it will !! Now he will think about 1st Raping & then Killing the victim, so as to remove the primary evidence of the Rape!!! Because u have just provided him with an added incentive – or have left him with No Option – as There is no ‘EXTRA’ punishment for Murder (or r we gonna sentence him to death twice???) Does a woman, once raped, become totally useless for the world???
And what about Child Victims who could be the easy targets to Rape n ‘Get rid Off’ ?? R we gonna rob them of their life just to protect their “Honour”!!! Thoughtless…
Rape Law →poor, poor Men…
I think, Indian Rape Law is heavily biased towards the women. It sometimes treats Consensual sex as a form of Rape!!! Because, the ‘Victim’ argues, that the Accused, promised a marriage, and then, backed away… An Indian woman would never have an intercourse(???) with a person she is not damn sure of getting married to. Are Indian women (I mean – “Bharatiya Naari”) so sacrosanct?? (Kill Me Now – 997441xxxx)
Women, I just have 2 points to make:
Breach of Promise is not a False Promise
Consensual sex is not Sexual ASSAULT
( 3. What should happen if one of the Lesbian partners backs away from the marriage?? Who got raped here?? )
Deep down, we r all Animals, right???
n Finally…
On a highly inappropriate lighter note: Mahesh called me yesterday, Said – “Sania is single… Again!!!”
23rd Jan, 2010. Six months in Delhi. One Helluva Journey so far… Couldn’t be more thankful to my Destiny (& to those who didn’t show up after interview 🙂 ). A Fresh Life!!! But wait… What about the old one…???
Six months ago, I was Independent. Living away from parents, cash ringing in the pocket, Friends n Bikes, a NIFT (yes, Dr. Mahim Sagar wala) in the backyard ( 😛 )… what else a Bachelor could possibly wish for!!!
The Minimum City…
I love Nostalgia. And I love taking a stroll down the Memory Lane… of Gandhinagar… To begin with, it is fair to say, that Gandhinagar is everything Delhi is not. (Perhaps the only common thing between both could be Me!!!) In Gandhinagar, u can live like a King, that too in TCS’ salary!! It’s a city, where, after 9 pm, all the streets become deserted, with the possible exception of Bootleggers, who r just about to start their business. It’s a city, so brilliantly Planned, that, I used to get a feeling of Playing PacManwhile travelling… And it’s a funny city; it has a Sector for everything. A sector for vegetables, a sector with offices, a sector for Fooling Around, a sector with Nothing… n This is where, we used to live, in a Haunted Mansion!!! (Off course it was Haunted!!! It saw 3 Accidents, 4 Resignations, 2 Heartbreaks n 20 Rejections!!!)
Breaking the Law…
The Haunted Mansion was not the best part of the Gandhinagar. It was, in fact, its Inhabitants – The Crazy Seven. Each one of them was a Unique Piece of Character. And their Antics ( 3 Musketeers, Onsite @ Mithapur,… ) were the Stuffs of Legends. And sometimes, when they used to come together, Hell would break Loose!!! ( I still remember the time when we wove a plot about How each one of us, in his own peculiar way, would Die on the Same day – and I, off course would die in the End, a bit “DIFFERENTLY” 😛 ) There was a Thrill in getting ‘WET’ in Dry Gujarat, Late-night ‘Mehfils’, Taking ‘Panga’ with the entire neighbourhood, n aunty threatening us about ‘Throwing out of the House’ – everything was just awesome!!!
False Alarms, Mock Drills…
And then there was TCS – Our official Chill Out Zone – with a monthly pay!!! The work was Easy, people were Colourful (I mean, Literally!!), n there was never a dearth of Parties & Chocolates (In fact, my only use of the Drawer was to Store Chocolates!!!). But the thing I miss most is the Mock Drills: Every now n then, False Fire Alarms used to ring, intimating people that it’s time to evacuate the building. And everybody, already knowing about the drill, would move around as if It’s a Tea Time… But Fire did break out one Sunday Afternoon (No, it wasn’t the Crazy Seven), when nobody was in the office to evacuate… & the end result was – we got a 2-day Holiday!!
The Funniest Office…
Speaking about my office, here is the most Eventful, most Hilarious Office I have come across – THE OFFICE. It’s not a real one (Though I wish it were!!!) It’s a comedy series and believe me, I have watched some of the funniest – Friends, Coupling, Scrubs, How I met Y M… – but this Tops them all. (@ my Healthcare Classmates: ‘This is the same show STAN was referring to in Hyatt.) Never before, a single character(Steve Carell, “A 40 Year Old Virgin” fame) made me Laugh so Hard!!!(except, off course, with the possible exception of Eric Cartman. SouthPark beats them all!!! 😀 ) Check out this scene:
PS: Talking about cities, I have recently watched 2 pleasantly wonderful movies about 2 most famous cities in the world.
‘Can ants see??’ – This is what I googled for yesterday (don’t ask – ‘Why’ ). The answer was ‘No, they have some other mechanism for sensing objects.’ And this got me thinking… ‘If the ants can’t see us humans, then how do they register us??’ – As rocks?? – or perhaps as Mountains!!! And if they do, then by the same Law of Hierarchy, r we humans, by some sheer frightening probability, also some special ‘ANTS’ in the eyes of other Super Natural Life-forms, perhaps Aliens??? And we r failing to recognise their presence (as a ‘Living Force’) just like real ants fail to recognise us!!! Quite possible, right?? After all, we humans, as a society, exhibit most of the features of an Ant Colony: We socialise, we divide work, we reproduce, n what not… So, the point of contention is – as I’m crushing an ant with my thumb right now – would these Super Natural Life-forms have the power and the motivation (or lack of it) to Crush Us to Death???(Recollect the story of Lord Krishna showing entire Universe in his Mouth to Yashoda…) Spooky!!!!!! Isn’t it?? Or ‘It’s just a Queer World!!’ – as Richard Dawkins would put it.
Richard Dawkins, by the way, is an Evolutionary (& Revolutionary) Biologist, and author of a classic named ‘The Selfish Gene’. A while ago, as I was zooming through the www, I came across a video in which he explains the ‘Queerer nature of the Universe’. And some of the ideas mentioned r truly riveting!!! Consider this for example:
An atom is made up of 99.9999% of Empty Spaces. So any solid object (rock, metal) – no matter how dense, hard or impenetrable it might be – largely contains (contrary to popular belief) Empty Spaces. If this is so then why we r not able to see through them?? Why r we blind to all frequencies outside the range of a narrow spectrum which we call LIGHT?? Any guesses?? The answer is simple – ‘What’s the Point???’ Dawkins says – “Our brains have evolved to help us survive within the orders of magnitude of size & speed which our bodies operate at. We never evolved to navigate in the world of atoms. If we had, our brains probably would perceive rocks as full of empty space. Rocks feel hard and impenetrable to our hands precisely because objects like rock & hand cannot penetrate each other. It’s therefore useful for our brains to construct Notions like Solidity & Impenetrability because such notions help us navigate our bodies through the MIDDLE-SIZED world in which we have to navigate.”
And how about this Bombshell: “All moving objects, including U & I are like a waveform, & not a permanent thing. Matter (like Sand) flows from place to place and momentarily comes together to form YOU!!! Whatever u r therefore u r not the same stuff of which u r made!!” Hard to visualize?? Try remembering Spiderman 3 – The SANDMAN, how he moves, how he takes shape…
The point that Richard Dawkins tries to drive home is that ‘Are we human beings, fooled by the fictional sense of cognisance, capable of exploring the unknown, undetectable side of Universe???’ Can we ever come out of this Matrix, like NEO, n Bend the Spoon???
Here is the Video:
Some Afterthoughts:
The more I dwell into science, the more I see boundaries between science n Theology blurring. Take this: ‘Presence of Alternate worlds’, ‘Absence of Absolute Truth’ – These r all scientific prepositions. Clean bowled??
If the traditional argument – ‘What cannot be tested, that cannot be science’ – is taken @ its face value, then almost half of the modern physics goes for a Toss!!! In the quest of finding the unexplored realities of the Universe, we r unlocking the hidden secrets deep embedded in human psyche. But wait!!! Haven’t the guys like Buddha, Prophet Mohammad or Swami Vivekananda already kinda done that???
PS: ‘What the heck am I talking today???,’ u must be thinking… But believe me, when u read shitty stuff like this, your unconscious mind invariably picks up some ideas, n then u get these Crazzzy Dreams, in the night. Try this: Think about your wildest fantasy. And Think Hard. Who knows……
May be Dreams r actually God’s playful ways of sending us Easter Eggs!!!
Last week, I visited Auto Expo. Bowled over by the entire Spectacle, I was bragging about it to my friends, when Carlos interrupted.
Carlos: Dude, it’s nothing compared to what I have been doing since last couple o` months.
Me: Achchha??? What r u up to NOW ??? ( I said sarcastically.)
Carlos: I’m working on a Teleportation machine. ( He winked @ me.)
Me: A what??
Carlos: A teleportation machine, One that transports an object from one place to another in no time.
Me: What?? U r not serious; r u??
Carlos: Why?? I’m dead serious. Ok, tell me, is it possible for u to be in Mumbai after say, 4 hrs???
Me: Well, yes; but that’s- (Carlos shushed me.)
Carlos: And Will it be possible to go be in Mumbai in a minute, at least theoretically, in a distant future??
Me: Umm, yes, but that’s highly improbable.
Carlos: Highly Improbable, but still possible, right??? So, won’t it be possible, how little probable it might be, to be here, in Delhi at one moment & in Mumbai the next ??? (Carlos said in ‘I Gotcha!!!’ voice.)
Me: That’s insane!!! U cannot be at 2 places at the same time!!!
Carlos: TIME!!! Time is an illusion my friend. Time is an I-L-L-U-S-I-O-N. (One of Carlos’ Quotable Quote.)
Me: (Silent)
Carlos: Ok, Ok. I accept that this event is so highly improbable that the probability or chances of it occurring could be 1 in zillion to the power zillion to the power zillion…
Me: Then how can u- (Carlos cut me.)
Carlos: Look, (in serious tone) what is probability?? Probability is the likelihood of an event under certain set of favourable circumstances. So, if we somehow produce that same set of favourable circumstances, we can certainly make that event happen, right??
Me: How u gonna do that?
Carlos: Simple!! By controlling the Probability! If I calculate the exact probability of an object being at multiple places, I can feed that in a special transportation device like, say, a modified car(Which I’m gonna build soon…) & Baaam!!! We r ready to teleport that object at any place we want!!!
Me: Excuse me!!! Did I miss something??
Carlos: It’s simple yaaaar… Have u seen BACK TO THE FUTURE??? It’s like that only. Using this Probability-Fed-Car, I can create a WORMHOLE that distorts the Time-Space Continuum, creates a bridge or a shortcut between two geographically distant locations which can be exploited by Diving right into the Wormhole.
Me: A Wormhole huh…!!!
Carlos: Yeah, like the one in… TERMINATOR or Donnie Darko??
Me: Hmm… Impressive. But it’s all fiction! Don’t u think??
Carlos: On the contrary, in fact, this is very much a possibility. Einstein himself thought of this through his Special Theory of Relativity. Even a school of thought in Quantum Mechanics is exploring a similar hypothesis, which, u must know, is primitive compared to what I have set out to accomplish!!
Me: And about this probability thing; How u gonna calculate that to the exact precision??
Carlos: That’s the Trick u know!!! That’s the Trick!!
(Seeing the quizzical expressions on my face he continued.)
Carlos: Do u think, I can create this machine??? Be honest.
Me: I think it’s impossible.(I kinda hoped that he wouldn’t get hurt.)
Carlos: Correct. Even I think So!! (I opened my mouth but he shushed me) So, if I can calculate how impossible it is for me create this machine, I can use that value as probability. Isn’t it brilliant??
( I did a double take !! )
Me: So u r going to create this machine by assuming that u cannot possibly create it???
Carlos: Yes. It’s almost impossible.
Me: And, u r trying to calculate how much impossible it is to create this machine in order to create this machine???
Carlos: Yes, off course. (He said in ‘Now u Get it!!’ kind of tone)
Me: Carlos, u r a genius!!!
Even though Carlos’ idea sounded absurd, I did some Googling. (He is a dear friend u know…) Next morning I went to see him.
“Teri har story KFC se kyun chalu hoti hai???” Bunny asked.
“Umm, well, this one was really eventful l!” I said, bursting with enthusiasm.
“Yeah?? Tell me…” Bunny finally gave up.
“Gud, So this is what happened…” I continued.
“Couple o` days ago I had gone to this mall in Vasant Kunj. After doing some shopping-whopping I headed straight for KFC. Once inside, I started looking for – What to have?? – Everything was tempting!! (One voice inside my head kept yelling ‘BUCKET – BUCKET – BUCKET – BUCKET’.) Checking my wallet, I went to the counter. The Guy greeted me with a BIG Smile, as if I was gonna buy the entire shop!!
“I’ll have one Chicken Wings, 7 pieces. And that’s All.” I said. The Counter Guy was still smiling. “I said, I’ll have –“
“They are all DEAF. You will have to point your Order from the menu.” Somebody said over my shoulder. I looked back. (With a question mark over my head)
“70% of guys working here are Deaf. So you will have to point your order” The same Somebody explained.
“OKAY” I said, sinking in the information. I turned over to The Counter Guy, I stretched my hands and made a FLYING MOTION: “I want a C-H-I-K-E-N W-I-N-G-S” I said, one syllable at a time.
He pointed in the menu card. “Yes. Yes. Only this” I pointed back. He motioned me to sit while the order is getting ready.
“As I settled down in a corner, I started observing these deaf people.(Couldn’t help it 😦 ) The scene in front of me was truly humbling(if that’s the word??) The place was bustling with people & these deaf guys were all over, handling everything effortlessly, rather artistically. (It was like watching a Silent movie with everybody playing their parts to the perfection & I’m playing Dumb). For a moment, it seemed like, their inability to talk or hear, was in fact a Blessing – a reward – of which we normal(& not so special) people were cruelly deprived off. There was a certain poetry, a magic in their hand movements, lip gestures that made me petty myself. They were so gifted !!!
“My chain of thoughts was broken by an Angelic voice. “Would ya mind if I share this table with ya??” She sang.
“Would I !!!!” My eyes popped out. “Please.” (“Wow, Firangi !!!” I said to myself.) She was dazzling!!! & I was speechless. She was so damn gorgeous!!!
“Beautiful !!” the thought suddenly dropped out of my mouth.
“I beg your pardon???” She jumped in her sit, as if I was gonna Blow myself to pieces.
“Umm. Umm. Isn’t this beautiful??” I tried to do some damage control. “These deaf people moving around, running KFC n all…” I said, blabbering.
“Yes. Yes. It’s very nice.” She said, looking suspiciously @ me.
Suddenly she called one of the attendants. (I froze.) She asked him whether he can replace her piece of Chicken. Smelling an opportunity, I jumped in. I pulled my one leg up, pointed towards my knee n said to The Attendant:
“ L-E-G P-I-E-C-E. L-E-G P-I-E-C-E. ”
The Attendant took the piece n left. The Angel started laughing. I laughed back.
“So how did u like India??” I asked, trying to strike a conversation.
“Ahh… I am from Shillong. That’s still in India, I suppose.”
“Oh, really??? I didn’t recognised. So u r from Shillong. Must be a beautiful place… ”
“We spent next 15 odd mins talking about Shillong, winter, cold & her Father (Major xyz). I was waiting for my moment. It never came. She finished her meal. “OK. I gotta go,” she said, looking @ her watch.
“Umm, did I tell ya I study in IIT ???” I said desperately, as she stood up.
“Ya?? Gud for u.” She left in a flash!!
I looked around. The always-cheerful-deaf-guy @ the counter was smiling at me. I went over.
“How was your lunch?” he asked with his hands.
“It was nice. It was F-I-N-G-E-R L-I-C-K-I-N G-U-D. “ I promptly said, licking my forefinger.”
“Dude, Did this really happened???” Bunny asked.
“You don’t believe me, do you !!” I said, smiling.
“Oi Chhad Yaaaar!! I’m flushing out all the bad memories of the year. I want to go Happy-Happy in the Happy New Year!!!” Ishan was in high spirits.
“We have already boozed too much! Why do u want to kill your liver??”
“Ki Faraak Painda Hai Yaar?? Even the world is going to end in 2012…
( I was distracted by a girl who just passed by.)
“Don, remember?? We made a secret pact 2 years ago @ New Year’s Party??” Ishan was up to something.
“Ah…, the one where we decided to laugh out loud at each other’s jokes no matter how pathetic they were ???”
“No, No; the one that went like ‘We r prepared to try Everything At Least Once.’
“Yeah!!! Well, haven’t we??” I giggled, remembering the wildest n most insane things we did in the last couple of years.
“We have, but Not everything.”
“Wat do u mean??”
“Don, I have decided that I’m not gonna be single anymore…,” he said abruptly.
“Arre!!! But, U r only 24.” I said, puzzled, “Wat the heck!!!”
“What?? Oh !! I’m 24 already n I don’t even hv a Girlfriend!!! Shits!!!” Ishan became hyper.
“Dude!!! Believe me!! U don’t wanna hv a Girlfriend. In fact, more than a girlfriend, it’s the idea of ‘having a GF’ seems to have captured your fancy. Enjoy your freedom!!”
“R U f@#$!n Kidding Me!!! Freedom from what??? Don’t wind me up; I’m not that Drunk, am I??” He was emotional.
(Nobody spoke anything for a while) “U know, Don, I have just realised that I’m a loser.” Suddenly Ishan said.
“No u r not.”
“Yes, I’m. Even U r a loser!!!”
“Whooo!!! Easy there Man!!!!” he had started pissing me off.
“I mean, what r we doing with Our Lives??? I cannot think of a single thing I have accomplished that I’m proud of. I’m a waste, ‘Dharti ka Boj!!!’ ” (He laughed @ his own joke.)
I tried to calm him down.
But he continued. “I’m sick of being constantly pushed around by people. Everyone seems to Preach Me what to do; Nobody even wants to listen what I wanna do!!! It sucks!!!” He banged the glass on the table.
“Don’t allow them too!! (I suddenly found myself Short of Words, so I continued babbling) You!! Be a Man!!! This is your life!! And U R in- charge of it. Just show them what u r!!! U r a MAN!! And this is Your Life!!” I said aggressively.
“Yes!! Enough is Enough!!! From now on, It’s either my way or …(he forgot the expression) …& my life.”
“Yeah, that’s the spirit!! Let’s drink to that!!!” I raised my glass.
(We kept discussing about all this philosophical bullshit & questions of life, universe n everything until it became All Too Heavy)
“This drinking, Saala, is bad!! I’m gonna Quit Drinking” Said Ishan, with considerable effort.
I just smiled @ him, barely listening.
“I’m gonna Quit Smoking too!!!”
“U sure will” I said, sarcastically.
“U know, What’s the fun in making New Year Resolutions when u r drunk???” Asked Ishan, mischievously.
“What??” I was in Heaven now…
“U can choose to forget them under the pretence of being drunk (while making them)”
“Probably u r right.” I was floating.
“Bottoms Up??? He said suddenly.
“Bottoms Up.”
( we gulped down the remaining vodka in one go.)
Next week Ishan called me.
“Aaj raat ka PLAN hai. R u in???”
“OK,” I said after a long pause.
P.S. My New Year’s Resolution that night was to keep maintaining this Blog. Let’s see, how it works out. Wish me luck 🙂
n by the way, Happy New Year!!!
On a Monday Morning, Carlos was having a nice, filling breakfast, when his girlfriend(GF) said “Carlos, baby, u need to have a Shave.”
“Not Now Honey” Carlos was in jovial mood.
“I see that u have become Lazy over the days. With this beard n all…” said GF, not listening.
“What has Laziness got anything to do with my Beard???” Carlos’ breakfast was now officially ruined.
“According to ‘Shave India Movement’, men who don’t shave are lazy. And 80% of women want their partner to be clean shaven. I also want u to be clean shaven & handsome.”
“Darling,” said Carlos “This is all wrong. My beard is my Style Quotient!! And many men, with beard have done exceedingly well in their lives. Look at them:” (He pointed to the wall)
“These r all dead now!!!” shouted GF(trying to guess ‘Who r these guys anyway???’) “See, I can’t bear anymore !! I’m leaving now. Call me when u change your Attitude.” She stormed off in a huff.
Carlos narrated me the entire episode when he came to the office. “Women r impossible” he said, sounding helpless. “Don’t worry. Such arguments happen in a Relationship. At least u have GF!!” I tried to cheer him up.
In the afternoon Carlos came running to my desk. “Dude!!! I knew I was right!!” he exclaimed. He was looking animated. ”Hey? What??” “I can prove that ‘Shave India’ is a Load of Crap!!”, he cried, in a warrior’s manner. ”Yeah??? Tell me??”, I quipped.
“Yeah!! Take a look”, he opened his laptop.
“You know I have a Researcher’s mind. Right??” “Yeah, right!!”
“Then what better way to Know The Truth than to actually see what people are really looking for!! So I went to Google.”
“You went to GOOGLE???” I asked, puzzled.
“Ya, Ya. Google. Now, Don’t Interrupt!!” Carlos said, impatiently.
“See.(Carlos started typing)
“I started off by typing in ‘beard’ in the search box. And look!!! There is not even a hint of ‘Shave’ or ‘Remove’ or ‘Cut’ in the search assistance! In fact, see, ‘beard growth’ (no.3) seems to give maximum hits with a whopping 3,890,000 results!!!
“To remove the Bias, I search ‘shave’ &, u won’t believe it, but Only 2 out of the top ten Relevant results had anything to do with Men !!! Yep, see for yourself.
“Next I decided to bring into picture ‘Gender-Play’. I typed in ‘man beard’ & got 10 million hits!!! Wait!! I hurried typed in ‘woman beard’ & got this: “People do look for women with beard!!! Some curious also look for ‘dwarf women beards’ !!!!!! This was indeed, very insightful !!
“To add Scientific perspective to my research, I searched for just ‘facial hair’. And compared to ‘facial hair removal’ (2,680.000 results), ‘facial hair growth’ (15,900,000 results) was miles ahead !!!
“It this wasn’t sufficient, I did one final Dip test. I tried to gauge ‘What the women want?’ My Null Hypothesis was: ‘Women want Clean Shaven Men.’ So I started typing ‘clean shaven men’. But before I could add ‘men’ (to ‘clean shaven’), the Google screen flashed results, quite puzzling. It read: ‘clean shaven women ……………818,000 results’ ????? I continued typing ‘clean shaven men’ & got: ‘clean shaven men ………… 796,000 results’. So clearly, I concluded that this hardly shows any preference of clean shaven men over unshaven men.”
“So?? What does this prove???” Carlos asked, winningly.
“What?” I played along.
“That ‘Shave India’ is a unnecessary Load of Crap!!!” said Carlos, twisting his tongue (in ‘Didn’t I tell Ya’ kinda voice).
“Carlos, u r a Genius !!!”, I burst into laughter.
Carlos called his GF after a short while to present her with his Research Findings. He expected her to realise the mistake & give him a well deserved romantic conversation.
“U r disgusting!!! Don’t call me ever again. It’s over between us!!!” She banged the phone down.
Later that Night Carlos called his GF.
“Didn’t I tell u not to call —“(Carlos cut her)
“Don’t come back”, said Carlos. “I have found out that u r Evil.”
“WHAT!!! How???” exclaimed the GF.
“Yeah, don’t lie to me now. I know everything.” The GF was too shocked to intervene, so Carlos continued.
“See.
You have used my money & my time…………..→GF = Money * Time
Have You ever had a moment of revelation??? I did, when I heard ‘STAN’ for the 1st time, just about an year ago. MAN!!! I was not only smitten by the sheer genius of a Guy, but badly beaten for harnessing all those preconceived notions about Rap Muzik. And in the coming days, as I followed Eminem & his antiques, it just shattered my ideas of good music & changed my taste too!! As Malcom Gladwell has said “There is nothing like perfect spaghetti sauce”, there is no good or bad music. It’s all about choices. Nothing Sucks!!! And Rap is not just some Hip hop monkey crap!!! It is also not about Loose T-shirt & yo-yo slangs. It’s more than that. It’s about a Soul, a Lifestyle. Your Ego & Attitude … And Eminem is the Virendra Sehwag of this world.
PEOPLE!!! You know what’s the biggest difference between Rock & Rap??? It’s not the style; it’s all about Identity! With Rock, it’s always about the Band; with Rap, it’s always “ME”. We go SOLO here…
Rap/Hip-Hop has since ages been considered as a territory of Black(Oh, sry, ‘African American’) people- Dr. Dre, Snoop Dog(yes, Akshay Kumar wala). But Eminem has risen through these same underground clubs as the only white guy to Step Up & Pick Up the Mic. And when asked, he says:
“I don’t do black music, I don’t do white music
I make fight music”
His music has been criticised heavily for its vitriolic, hatred-filled themes & excessive use cuss words(still an understatement!!!). But he is extreme only ‘cause he is real. And he plays it ‘No Holds Barred!!’
“I’m like a head trip to listen to, cause I’m only givin you
things you joke about with your friends inside your living room
The only difference is I got the balls to say it
in front of y’all and I don’t gotta be false or sugarcoated at all”
An Eminem song always invariably has a Theme, mostly a dark one, and painful. He says it’s Self-Reflection. And he never hesitates to show his Anxiety & Vulnerability. It’s always ‘Full On!!! Take this:
“Sometimes I even cut myself to see how much it bleeds It’s like adrenaline, the pain is such a sudden rush for me
See everything you say is real, and I respect you cause you tell it”
And the kind of Word Play(fizzle-drizzle-brizzle-sizzle-mizzle!! 😛 ) & syllable improvisation(Totally unacceptable in Indian Classical Muzic, though AR Rahman always does it brilliantly.) he brings to the party is unparalleled. Try singing this: (DON’T read. SING!!)
“*bzzt* Testing, attention please
Feel the tension, soon as someone mentions me
Here’s my ten cents, my two cents is free
A nuisance, who sent? You sent for me?”
Eminem songs revolve around so trivial things( Javed Akhtar would go Mad!!!), that you sometimes fill even you can write one. But that’s where it hits Hard!!! As you listen, you imagine & you sing along. And before you know, you start ‘livin in the moment’.
And then, when you fill that ‘you have GOT IT’, he suddenly bounces with these crazy, magical moments that leave you speechless. This one happens right in the middle of “Sing for the Moment”…
“It’s all political, if my music is literal, and i’m a criminal how the f@#$
can I raise a little girl
I couldn’t, I wouldn’t be fit to, you’re full of shit too, Guerrera, that
was a fist that hit you…”
And while at it, he spares no one, even his peers or critics!!
“You think I give a damn about a Grammy?
Half of you critics can’t even stomach me, let alone stand me”
Eminem or Mr. Slim Shady has an opinion on everything. He blasts everyone apart.(Much like ‘SOUTH PARK’ 🙂 ) Some of his numbers have turned into Laugh Riots due to all the bashings & hammerings.(Literally ‘Baja ke rakh deta hai’ :P) This one is a special:
“Of course they gonna know what intercourse is
By the time they hit fourth grade
They got the Discovery Channel don’t they?
“We ain’t nothing but mammals..” Well, some of us cannibals
who cut other people open like cantaloupes”
Other than Eminem, I don’t really listen to any Rapper. (I listen to songs though, on recommendations; like this one from movie The Hangover: “Get My Money Right” by 50 Cents.) For me, Eminem is synonymous to RAP music. So listen up:
“(Hey!!) There’s a concept that works
Twenty million other white rappers emerge
But no matter how many fish in the sea
It’ll be so empty, without me”
Peace out.
P.S. The Indian Scene is not too bad with Hard Kaur & Blaze around. And this song ‘Superchor’ from ‘Oye Lucky’ is truly Nuts!!! Especially @
“Johnny Walker Walking Walking Old Monk Is Talking Talking
Future Black Is Chalking Chalking”
This Saturday, I went to City Select to watch Avatar (oh wait, no, “AVATAR 3D” !!!). To my disappointment, all the shows were Sold Out!!! (Poor Me: ‘You Delhiites!!! Don’t you have anything better to do ???) So as obvious, I did the next best thing. I went to KFC🙂. (Incidentally, there was a Santa, & somehow, the image of Santa, selling my ‘Finger Lickin Gud’, didn’t quite, well, u know …) Anyways, so after ‘lickin my fingers’, as I was about to leave, I decided to watch some X’mus celebrations & Delhi’s “Greenery”. (You R Clever!!!) And, after some time, I felt Blissed!!!
Then, Suddenly, something caught my fancy, & I, out of sheer curiosity, decided to take a peek. (Okay, I admit. I followed a Chick there… 😛 )
The sign read: ‘People for Animal’. Below that, it read: ‘Puppy for Adoption’. (Strange!! Doesn’t it mean ‘Animal for People’ ???) I decided to linger around for a while (This December, I’m free as a Bird!!!) & find out what the entire Business actually was.
It was no Monkey Business, I found out. And I found out many more things. They, ‘People For Animal’, were really giving out puppies (“So Cuuute!!!” screamed my Chick.) for adoption. There were all sorts of puppies: black, white, black n white, brown, mix-bred, pure-bred, he, she, playful, sleepy, pooping & non-pooping, with & without sweater, all sorts of them, if you take my word.
We Indians are all a bunch of Racists!!! No matter how vehemently we deny the allegations of cast, colour & gender play, deep down we know that we are not wired to spare even dogs!! This is what I overheard from a conversation:
Husband: (Willing to please his Wife) How much for the Dog?
Volunteer: Sir, these are not for Sale; for Adoption only.
Wife: Can I hold one?? (Volunteer peeks up a playful puppy.) No. No. That one. (Points) The one with the Brown Spots.
Volunteer: Ma`am, it is asleep.
Wife: But can you…? I want to take one.
(Volunteer reluctantly hands her the Puppy.)
Wife: Cho Chweeet na Darling??? (‘Yes. Yes.’ nodes Husband.) Can we have it???
Husband: (To volunteer) What breed is it?
Volunteer: Sir, it’s a Mongrel, rescued from streets.
Husband: Sadak ka Kutta!!!(You Mean Street-Dog???) (Volunteer nodes. Husband talks with his Wife.)
Volunteer: It doesn’t make a difference Sir. This Puppy is just 31 days old; & is house-trained. (Wife seems convinced.)
Wife: Is it a Male or Female?
Volunteer: (Lifts the Puppy’s legs & points out) It’s a Female.
Wife: (Disappointed) Don’t you have a Male I this? It will be a problem when She gets older!!
Volunteer: No Ma`am, we can arrange for her Sterilisation after 1 year. And in fact, the Male becomes aggressive & dominant after it gets older; it’ll be very difficult to control.
(The Couple finally settles for this One.)
Husband: Ok, Our last puppy used to crap everywhere!! Tell me, Are these puppies trained to poop???
The people asked all sorts of queries: pre-adoption, post-adoption, dog-food (‘Cerelac’ for 1-6 months old Human babies!!!). The volunteers were also probing hard to make sure they select the right families. (They even threatened to take the Puppy back if found ill-treated.) All in all, it was quite an experience. For me.
End:
And all the while I was trying to woo the attention of the Chick by playing the role of a Reporter, a Dog Lover, & what not!!! So I started caressing a puppy & pretended empathising with the volunteers. “Would you mind if I write about you in My BLOG???” I said, quite Loudly. And finally, the Chick showed some interest. As I was waiting, she came to me & said, “You write in Blog?” “Yes, I Blog.” I said, trying to look modest. “Wow, what do you do???” she keenly asked. I turned my back to her, thrusting my Sweat Shirt Logo forward, “I study in I I T, baby!!!” I said, cheekily. “IIT Delhi??? Wow!!! So how do you manage?” her eagerness belied her voice. I regained my composure & replied, “It’s a loooooong story… Why don’t we discuss it over dinner?? I know a great place just round the corner!”
(Mrs. Dimpleben Katodia wants to have a Tattoo on her … (well, let’s see) so that she can flaunt it in the upcoming Navratri (Garba Ramwanoo Chhe!!!). She goes in a Tattoo Shop in the Apsara Market.)
Tattoo Artist: Good Morning. How may I help you?
Dimple: (Folding hands) Jai Sri Krishna!! Tamaro naam Sunny Bhai chhe?? (Are you Sunny Bhai?)
Tattoo Artist: Yes. (He motions her towards the sofa.)
Dimple: Hun(I) Dimple Katodia. I want to have a tattoo.
Tattoo Artist: Okay, (Sceptically) where?
Dimple: (Blushing heavily) Mari Kamarthi Uper. (On my waist.)
Tattoo Artist: Ok. And what sort of Tattoo are you looking for?
Dimple: (Still blushing) I want a Tattoo for my Husband.
Tattoo Artist: Wow, That’s great. So, do you have any, any design in your mind?
Dimple: (Quickly pulls out mobile from her purse & shows) I want this.
Tattoo Artist: (Amused) Oh, so your Husband’s name is Rutvik Kotadia…R.K. Then why don’t you go for something like the one Deepika got for Ranbir Kapoor??
Dimple: (Makes a face.) Na. Na. Mane aa joiye chhe. (I want this only.)
Tattoo Artist: (Resentfully) Sure, Please come this way…
(Tattooing is about to begin.)
Tattoo Artist: Shall we start?
Dimple: Wait!! (Loudly) Jaaaai Jalaraam Bappaa!!! Ok. Start.
Tattoo Artist: Don’t worry. Just Relax.
Dimple: Hmm..
Tattoo Artist: (Begins Tattooing) Ok Dimpleben, so what does your Husband do?
Dimple: (Proudly) Rutvik is a ROK STAR!!!
Tattoo Artist: I beg your pardon???
Dimple: Rok Star. Rok Star. (Sings) ‘Tera Tera Tera Suroooooor…’
Tattoo Artist: Oh, you mean Rock Star. Like Himesh.
Dimple: Yes, Like Aapnu(Our) Himess bhai! But Rutvik is special!! He is a ‘Gujju Rapper’!!!
Tattoo Artist: (Can’t stop Smiling!) Really???
Dimple: Haan. See, his latest song. (Plays on mobile)
Dimple: Mara Rutvik bahu saras gaye chhe! (Rutvik sings very beautifully!)
Tattoo Artist: (Smiling) I agree.
(After some time.)
Tattoo Artist: So, I guess, your Husband wanted you to have this.
Dimple: Na. Na. Mara Chhokra na (My Son’s) friend ni Mummy, Seetal, got a Tattoo for her Husband, Mr. Kamless Ssaah. So I also wanted to get it. After all, Navrari starts from the next Monday!!! (Starts singing – ‘Sanedo Sanedo, Lal Lal Sanedo!!!’ )
Tattoo Artist: (Not knowing what to respond) Umm, So you also have a Son. But I must tell you, you don’t look that old.
Dimple: (Blushing) He he 🙂 … Mara Son Vatsal is 7 years old. (After a moment) Do you want to see his video?? Vatsal na Pappa (that’s Rutvik) shot him with the Digi Kem. Look. Look. (Plays mobile)
Tattoo Artist: Very cute boy, you have Dimpleben. (Dimpleben smiles.)
(Tattooing is done.)
Tattoo Artist: There you go Dimpleben.
Dimple: Thayi Gayoon?? (Over??) Thenk You.(Dimpleben pays him & prepares to leave.)
P.S. – Gujjus seem to grab eyeballs everywhere. Check this Out.
P.S. 2– Yaar, Plz comment on the Posts you read. All your suggestions/criticisms/ideas/appreciation 🙂 are extremely important to me. Hope you are having a good time here.
(Detective Pargat Singh is looking for a Partner. He has interviewed quite a few candidates & is currently waiting with the last application which incidentally is anonymous.)
(The Cowboy walks in.)
Pargat Singh: Aaoji aao. Pleez take a seat.
(The Cowboy suspiciously takes a look around and sits.)
Pargat Singh: Myself Mr. Pargat Singh. Twadda naam ki hai?
The Cowboy: (Silence)
Pargat Singh: Ooji, what iz your good name?
The Cowboy: I have no name.
Pargat Singh: (Impressed by The Cowboy’s level of secrecy) Ookay.
Pargat Singh: Why were you late?
The Cowboy: They wouldn’t let me park my Horse.
Pargat Singh: (Shocked) Tussi ghode per aaye ho!!! Badhiya hai ji Badhiya!!
Pargat Singh: (Suddenly notices) You can take your Hat off now.
The Cowboy: Nobody touches my Hat!!
Pargat Singh: Ok. Ok. (Points at his own Turban in order to convey – ‘I Can Understand…’.)
Pargat Singh: Ok. Tell me something about yourself.
The Cowboy: Sure.
(The Cowboy pulls out a Tape-Recorder & plays this:
And while the theme plays in the background, The Cowboy talks about his native( Brokeback Mountain – Austin, Texas ), education( ‘Waste of Money’ ) & habits( ‘Chewing Tobacco’, ‘Smoking Cigar – only MARLBORO!!’, ‘Living for months without Shaving & Bathing’, etc… ). Pargat Singh tries to draw some similarities…)
Pargat Singh: Changa ji, Changa!! Aur Sunao, what are your Hobbiz?
The Cowboy: Horse riding, Shooting Ducks, Killing Pigeons …
Pargat Singh: Tussi Shikaar bhi karte ho!!!
The Cowboy: Obviously.
Pargat Singh: (After some thinking) What iz your Moto in life?
The Cowboy: ‘If you want to shoot, Shoot. Don’t talk.’
Pargat Singh: Very nice, so you let your actions speak for you.
The Cowboy: Pretty much.
Pargat Singh: Good. Do you watch Hindi movies?
The Cowboy: Not many.
Pargat Singh: Who iz your Favourite Indian Actor?
The Cowboy: Rajinikanth. He has some good moves.
Pargat Singh: (Disappointed) O hamaare Sunny paaji bhi koi kum nahi hai… ‘When his hand of 2.5 kg comes down heavily on the Balwant Rai’s Kuttaas, they don’t get up, they, they die.’
The Cowboy: That’s not our style.
Pargat Singh: (Trying to change the topic) So, You have mentioned that your past experience is in Operations. What was our Role?
The Cowboy: I was a Bounty Hunter.
Pargat Singh: (Carefully) Why did you leave it?
The Cowboy: (Plainly) My project got over.
Pargat Singh: (Still cautious) Can you throw some light?
The Cowboy: Well, it happened like this…
Pargat Singh: Now I will ask you a Puzzle. There are 3 pigeons sitting on a branch. You shoot one of them. What happens to the other two?
The Cowboy: They Die.
Pargat Singh: (Puzzled) But, won’t they fly away???
The Cowboy: (Becomes Serious) Try me.
Pargat Singh: You don’t seem to show too many emotions..
The Cowboy: I don’t.
Pargat Singh: Ok. What would you do when you fall in love, (after a moment), with a girl off course!
The Cowboy: I’ll give her my Hat.
Pargat Singh: And?
The Cowboy: And play this music for her…
Pargat Singh: And when she ditches you?
The Cowboy: I’ll take my Hat back & Shoot her in the head.
(Pargat Singh is now beginning to see his Future Partner in this Cowboy.)
Pargat Singh: Umm, what are your expectations from our agency?
The Cowboy: To start with, ‘You must do all the talking & I, all the Shooting.(Pargat Singh shifts in his chair.) I must be allowed to set up a Barbeque in the office. And I’ll always wear Jeans to the work.
Pargat Singh: (To ease the tension) You too are a Levis Fan, aren’t you?
The Cowboy: (In disgust) Levis is for Ladies. I wear Wrangler.
Pargat Singh: Ya? Why?
The Cowboy: It’s not comfortable.
Pargat Singh: Not comfortable?
The Cowboy: (Plainly) Around the crotch.
( Pargat Singh, embarrassed, is in hurry to finish the interview.)
Pargat Singh: I think I have got all I wanted. I’ll let you know very soon. Do you have any contact no.? Mobile? E-mail?
The Cowboy: Mobile?? Not my style… (Thinking for a while) Fire 3 shots in the western skies on the Monday night.
Pargat Singh: Shot??? You mean Gun Shots???
The Cowboy: Yeah, that will do.
Pargat Singh: (Thinking: ’I got my Man!!!’) Most Certainly Sir.
The Cowboy: Ok. Till then.(Gets up.)
Pargat Singh: Oh, wait. Don’t you have any ‘End of the Interview Music’??
The Cowboy: (Remembers) As a matter of fact I do. Here…
Caution: The content of this post could be crude. Have fun…
#1. Outside Dadar Station
Eric Cartman
(Eric Cartman is looking for someone with Authorita. He sees a big hoopla in a corner & makes his way through to the centre of commotion which happens to be the rally of Raj Thackeray. Cartman directly heads towards the man himself.)
Eric: “Dude, Hi. I’m looking for Kenny.”
Raj: “Kenny who???”
Eric: “Kenny, that Son of a B**ch, stole my Nintendo wii 2010 & disappeared !!!”
Raj: “Why r u here then?”
Eric: “Dude, Kenny is poor…”
Raj: “So??”
Eric: “Your country is so poor, Kenny must be having lot many relatives in here.”
Raj: (Impressed) “Do I know u?”
Eric: “Oh, I’m Eric. Eric Cartman, the smartest boy in South Park !”
Raj: “Glad to meet u Mr. Cartman. I am Raj Thackeray, the sole protector of Mara-” (Eric cuts him short …)
Eric: “I need to take a Dump !!”
Raj: “Achchha?? Let’s go to my place, it’s very nearby…”
Eric: “K, hurry.”
#2. Raj Thackeray’s Place
(Eric relieves himself in Raj Thackeray’s toilet, and now both are seating in the drawing room.)
Eric: “Boy ! I’m hungry again !!!”
Raj: “What can I offer u, Mr. Cartman?”
Eric: (Excited) “Do you have any Cheesy poofs ??”
Raj: “Well, No. But would u like to have our Vada-pav & Thumbs-up?”
Eric: “Coooouuulll !!! Wait, wat’s a Thumbs-up???”
(Eric is eating… Thackeray’s cat is wandering around…)
Eric: “Is that your Cat?”
Raj: “yes, we call her ‘Mau’.” (Raj calls out to the cat.)
Eric: (Pissed) “No Kitty, that’s a Bad Kitty!!!”
(Frightened, ‘Mau’ runs out of the house, & gets run over by an Auto-Rickshaw.)
Raj: “Say Mr. Cartman, …”
Eric: “ya?”
Raj: “what are your views on ……politicians???”
Eric: “They are all a wuss !!!”
Raj: (bemused) “But I’m certainly not one of them. See, we have a problem of Bihaaris here & I’m addressing it.”
Eric: “Bihaari ???”
Raj: “yes, they are like, what would u say, Hippies.”
Eric: (Excited) “I hate Hippies!!! Die Hippie Die !!!”
Eric: “Ok, how serious is this problem?”
Raj: (Pleased) “Allow me recite you a poem.”
Eric: “Go ahead.”
Raj:
“Ek bihaari, Sau bimaari !
Do bihaari, Train hamaari !!!
Tin bihaari, Sarkar hamaari !!!!!”
(Eric doesn’t understand a single word.)
Eric: “Pretty serious problem I guess.”
Raj: “Yes, damn serious!”
Raj: “Don’t you have any such problem back there? Is there anything we can help you with ?”
Eric: (Cautiously whispers) “I want to get rid of Jews…”
Raj: “well, we can help you get rid of Muslims if you want. My dear friend Mr. Narendra Modi is an expert.”
Eric: “Ya? Tell me??”
Raj: “1st ask your men to secretly lit fire-crackers in Muslim mohalla when Pakistan wins. Ask one of your ‘Single-pasli’ follower to abuse their sisters so badly that he eventually gets a heavy bashing. Then find a mosque where 1000 years ago there could have existed a mandir. Then- ” (Eric cuts him.)
Eric: “Dude, that’s lame”.
Raj: “Then, when you have created enough reasons, take your men & make a charge. Simple !”
Eric: “Coooouuulll !!!”
(After a moment’s silence …)
Raj: “Will you help us in our campaign of driving all the outsiders out of Mumbai???”
Eric: “I can do the German Dance for you if you want”.
Raj: “I’m afraid; it will take more than that. But what we will do, we will help you find Kenny, and then you help us in certain ways.”
Eric: (Excited) “Coooouuulll !!! We must find Kenny before he dies.”
Raj: “Ho !!! How do you know he’s going to die???”
Eric: “Cummon Dude, Kenny always die.”
#3. Dharavi Slums
(Eric is holding his nose…)
Eric: “What on bloody earth is this shit???”
Raj: “This is Dharavi, the largest slum in the whole world. If we want to find Kenny, then we better start from this place.”
Eric: “It Stinks.”
Raj: “It’s not that bad…”
Eric: “This is shittier than your toilet.”
(He sees some peasants…)
Eric: “Hey??? What are these Mexicans doing here!!!” ( To the Peasants ) “Marcharse ! Marcharse !! (‘go away’ in Spanish)”
Raj: (Confused) “They are not Mexicans, they are UP-wala Bhaiyyas, I mean ‘brothers’.”
Eric: “Brothers of Maxican people??? Lame !!! Let’s get outaa here before I die of Plague.”
Raj: “But we are not done yet !!! You promised to help us !!!”
Bunny smiled. “Letz go yaar”, he ordered, “I’m craving for shami kababs.” I shook my head.
“So, going to Bombay tomorrow…?”
“Yep”, I blurted out, still wrestling with my chicken tangdi..
“Sahi Launde!!, Have fun.”, teased Bunny.
‘E.T. Go Home’, I said to myself.
#2- Flight SG/121, Boarding: Delhi
Even after spending close to 15 years in the city, you never really believe that Mumbai is actually a group of islands. Or, at least until your flight prepares to land on Santacruz airport. My eyes remain glued to the window & beyond as the pretty lady requests to fasten seat belts. At 2300 hours, the city is hardly asleep; I see bright, shiny dots moving, as if, on a black carpet. ‘Is that a lighthouse???’, I ask myself, trying to capture the moment. A sudden sense of weightlessness takes over…
#3- Mazzzzii Mumbai !!!
There is a certain Intoxicating element present in Mumbai, which none other cities can proclaim to have. No! No! I am not talking about Bombay being ‘the Land of Opportunities’, ‘Bollywood Mayanagari’ or the other metropolitan stuff. That’s bull-crap. It’s the hidden underbelly of city, the carefree attitude of a Mumbaikar, the numerous contrasting lifestyles and some truly unique & bizarre series of events that keep Mumbai always in the limelight.
I’m a little strange soul. Being in Mumbai makes me feel like being a part of an action packed Hollywood thriller !!! Be it the July Floods or the gruesome train bombings or D-gang encounters, I always feel that I am in the thick of the actions, even when I’m away !!! And this city has some special things which I long everywhere – Sea, Local Trains( not Delhi Metro ), Jumbo Vada-Pav, Underworld and most importantly ‘Sukkaa Bombil’( that’s my Bombay-Duck !! ).
Anyways. Let’s resume my trip. So I come home & say to mother, “Aai, I will roam around the city during day and for dinner, I want only seafood ( that too only Bombil & Prawns ).”
Mom sighs, “Same old story.”
#4- Mumbai Darshan…
Day 1. INS Vikrant
INS Vikrant
I grab my brother & take him to INS Vikrant, the aircraft carrier, converted into Naval Museum in Bombay Docks. I am excited. I have been to a cargo sheep before, but this is Huge !!! It can carry 21 aircrafts, would you believe ? The museum is filled with war souvenirs, photographs, actual aircrafts and submarine components that enthral you. A trip around takes you through the glorious history of Indian Navy.
Day 2. Marine Drive.
Marine Drive, or Queen’s Necklace, is a gem in the city’s landmarks. Peoples( & couples ) throng the place in the evenings to watch the sun disappearing in the sea. I also enjoy the views and atmosphere( No pun intended ).
Marine Drive Evening
Earth From Above
This time, it is extra special. There is an exhibition of 120 odd photos of aerial shots of Earth’s landscape, taken from helicopter. The theme is climate change & its effects on human civilisation. It is awe-inspiring. It is something that I have never seen before.
Day 3. Bandstand, Bandra
Bandstand, Bandra
Bandstand is a cool hangout place. You have a huge sea face, jaw-dropping Bandra-Worli sea link wading through the sea, and you can even catch a glimpse of popular celebrity( There is always a small male(?) gathering below Salman Khan’s apartment ).
I take a quick lap of the bandstand promenade, breathe some salty air, visit Mount Mary’s church & head home.
Day 4. Colaba & Book Street & Fashion Street.
This turns out to be my most productive day ! I roam around in Gateway of India – Colaba area. And Colaba happens to be the land of modern legends( You can ask David Gregory Roberts of ‘Shantaram’ fame ). The area is abuzz with foreigners, hawkers & people like me. I catch up with couple of friends over couple of beers in Café Leopold, the same place where terrorists opened fire last november.
It’s Sunday. And I need to buy some cheap( read: Duplicate ) books & designer( read: cheap & duplicate ) cloths. At Book Street & Fashion Street, these are sold at ridiculously low prices, provided you are good at the art of bargaining.( I got ‘Superfreakonomics’ @ 40 bucks – awesome book !!! )
I juggle my purchases & grab a window in a ‘Dombivli Fast’. Got a plane to catch @ 11:15.
#5- There & Back Again…
It’s 2:30 in the night. The taxi is cruising at 90 kmph. Driver rolls down the window to throw the cigarette butt. And a sudden blast of air hits me full on!!! Gosh! It’s freezing cold. Salaa ye Delhi ki sardi !!!
And then it hits me.
Haji Ali
I forgot to visit Hazi Ali !!! ‘Koi nahi, next time I shall offer 2 Chaddars to Peer Baba’, I console myself.
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