As I stand on the threshold of a new year, I’ve realized a few things. That,

-          I miss the pepsi colas and jumbo pepsis that I could get for 25p or 50 p or Re.1

-          Sometimes you run out of synonyms for words

-          You realize you are getting old when you start saying, “Tereko yaad hai…apne time pe…”

-          It’s scary when you don’t know what you want to do for a living

-          It’s easier to not talk

-          It’s not as easy to listen

-          In the trains, I don’t like the way First Class passengers remind the obviously non-first class passengers of where they have intruded

-          I want to backpack across the world

-          Being jobless leaves you sleepless, depressed and restless

-          Few people behave knowing that we are all just humans

I wish you all a very Happy New Year! Hope it gives you the ability to be honest, compassionate, strong and truthful – to yourself and to others.

ME:       Do you get a weird taste in your mouth just before you have a stomach upset?

J:         Umm no

I get weird tastes all the time

ME:       :D

J:         :)

Haha

No no I don’t

Y? U obviously do from that Q

ME:       Just asking... cuz I do

J:         :)

ME:       You know what

J:         Hehe

ME:       S, you and I should meet

Yes

J:         Yes

ME:       Arrgh... I think I have stomach upset

It’s feeling weird

J:         Cool

ME:       How is that cool?

J:         (It’s NOT cool)

Hehehe

ME:       You're cracking jokes?

J:         Yeah

And nuts!

:)

ME:       I was expecting empathy not obscure humour

J:         Empathy for stomach upset?

Tsk no sorry

Pls!

ME:       Why not?

I’m in discomfort!

J:         It’s paltry

ME:       It’s appreciated

J:         But it doesn’t come

So leave it!

ME:       Grr

J:         :-I

ME:       Am posting this

It's funny

J:         Post

J:         Where the hell does he work?

ME:       Who?

J:         Zerxes

ME:       Don’t know

Why?

I think in Persia

J:         PERSIA???

ME:       Yes

J:         THE PLACE PERSIA????

When the fuck did he get there?

ME:       Ages ago

J:         How many ages??? Wasn’t he in college?

ME:       Don't know... wasn't counting

J:         No problem :)

ME:       I think the Spartans killed him or something

J:         Who? Zerxes?

ME:       Yes

J:         He is quite alive and kicking

Here on gtalk

ME:       Ask him

J:         Is that a phantom?

ME:       If he was killed by the Spartans

J:         He just left

I think he left bcoz he feared exposure

:-I

Phantom of Zerxes!

ME:       Ain?

J:         Yeah I know

Forget

You can hear nothing but the sound of your own breathing as you lie almost completely submerged in the bathtub. You get goose bumps from how good it feels…the hot water covering every inch of your tired body. And when you can see nothing and hear nothing but the proof of your existence, everything fades away and world seems to have been made only for you. Only you exist. And everything else exists for you. Not by itself and for no other purpose but to serve you. You feel somewhat like Truman from The Truman Show. You expect a camera to fall from the sky any minute and to see people waiting for their cue. Everything that you externalized suddenly rushes in with a whoosh and you remember what it’s like to see the world from your eyes. As everything inside of you seeps out of your pores and into the water, it suddenly becomes too hot and you don’t want to stay in another minute. You climb out of the bathtub and wonder if you should have let the cold water run for a bit longer than you had and then maybe, just maybe you could have stayed in a little while longer. You look into the mirror and wonder why the face you see belongs to a stranger and why no one can feel, see, taste or hear the same way you do. You wonder why you are an individual, complete and whole, and yet count on everything and everyone else but yourself for your existence. Then you remember that you are only human and the bathtub is as close to heaven as you can get while you are alive.
 

Of course it is easier to get rid of animals that make our life inconvenient rather than try and live in harmony. One would think that as we evolve, we’d try not to destroy nature completely. Dogs bite because they are dogs and it’s in their nature to sometimes behave just like an animal. And more often than not they are provoked. If tomorrow your child hurled a stone at you would you rather squeal and run away?

A lot of people want to sterilize all dogs because some bite. Logic states that this will inevitably lead to the extinction of one complete species. Or would they rather play God and create a zoo where dogs will be kept for breeding just so we won’t have only pictures to remind us 10 years down the line as to what dogs look like? How does sterilization solve the problem? Just because they can’t mate and procreate, will they stop biting?

And if this is how people propose to treat something that rarely attacks us or harms us, how do we tackle fellow human beings who frequently harm us? What do we do about rapists? Would we consider castration as a solution?
 

It’s a girl!


Nandini.

I’m in love with her already. And I’ve decided to spoil her silly.

:-D

It’s just a goddamn language. By definition, it’s just a bloody means of communication. That’s its very basic function. It helps you tell other people that you are in deep shit; that you need help; that the prices of tomatoes are obscene. And that’s where it all ends. What next? Every country’s army and navy claiming that the Morse code is theirs? I cannot believe that such idiots exist in grown men’s bodies. I don’t see Scotland, Ireland and England fighting over their accents. Of course, the fact that they all speak English would have made things slightly less complicated. It’s about time that they realized they live in India. And that India is a country that does not have just one language that people communicate in. And they sure as hell don’t fill in anything other than Indian in a form that asks for nationality.

What gives someone the right to tell me where I belong and what language to revere? Just because someone was born in a place where their grandfathers happened to live, it does not give them any right or ownership over the land. Just because someone was born in a city, it does not make them rightful inhabitants of the city. Open your eyes and try evolving, you territory marking Neanderthal fools! If you want to resist globalization by being a stubborn ass, go ahead and open an Orkut or Facebook community and dedicate it to your dear language. Would you rather have had Manmohan Singh try and negotiate the nuclear deal with Bush in Marathi?

Fine, the state is named Maharashtra. And Shivaji did all that he did. Everybody respects and appreciates that. But I’m damn sure that he never divided and ruled. Go ahead, claim Shivaji as your own. But do not tell other people what to do. And when you are beating your chests like apes and shouting infantile, vitriolic slogans, just know that when Shivaji was fighting, you were nowhere near to being born. You did not lift one lousy finger to help build his fort that you are so proud of. You did not feed his noble steeds. And most of you have no clue how the language, which he thought was convenient to communicate in, evolved. You. Weren’t. There.

Claiming a right over something that you yourself were never involved in personally is just like taking credit for someone else’s hard work; it’s equivalent to plagiarism; it’s equivalent to a greedy man who ill-treats his father but dotes over him because someone told him he is rewriting his will. It sure is convenient. But know that someday it will come back and bite your ass so hard that you won’t be able to sit comfortably for centuries.

And by the way, I think it’s high time that you learnt English.

In the quiet of the night,

If you listen closely,

You can hear them,

All the whispers and

The hushed voices,

Whispering from a distance,

Words just escaping your ears,

Like a breeze, hissing,

Driving you mad.

Writing is like a freight train. It’s hard to stop once it starts. Since my trip to Bangalore, somehow the inclination has disappeared and I’m forcing myself to write; which is strange considering that I love to write. It’s been a very long time since I last posted. I’m struggling to find my rhythm. As I’m trying to develop my style of writing, I’m discovering how hard it is to think out of the box. To some lucky ones it comes naturally and for some, like me, it’s something that has to be worked on relentlessly.

It’s been a long time since my last job and now, finally, I’m getting restless. The problem is that there are many things that I think I’ll enjoy doing and want to try my hand at. I’m now faced with a problem of choice. I have a strong idea what I want to do but the issue of choice enters into the picture because there are many fields that meet my requirement. I’ve decided that I want a job that involves music, writing or both. So, you can imagine the confusion.

It’s not helping that the world is profit-oriented. Regardless of ability, talent or interest, you get a job only if you have the experience. Getting a break when you are trying to switch fields is, I have discovered, difficult. It’s no longer about going to work because you want to do something that you know you will enjoy and love. It is now all about earning money even if the job is such that you would much rather kill yourself than get out of bed every morning. I threw away good money which was about to get better and a promotion because I liked what I was doing but wanted to do something that I would love doing. I know that I’m not alone when it comes to something like this but now I’m starting to wonder whether that was stupid.

A couple of days back a friend was talking about how a 2BHK in Mulund (!) now costs 80 lakhs. And all I could think was how long it would take me to buy a flat considering that I’m jobless and penniless. Living has become expensive. And it’s not like it was easy before, what with all the emotional mess that we tend to get ourselves in. Let me ask you something. Where is all the money? What are people doing with all the extra money that they have? What is Christiano Ronaldo doing with his? Since when did bits of paper and metal start having so much importance that people kill for it? Since when did we start hoarding money like food for a rainy day? I’m now starting to think that maybe, just maybe, the barter system was much better.

I like people who smell nice, umm, well, for obvious reasons. I find it difficult to have a conversation with someone who stinks, because my mind is so distracted with how badly this person could use a deo. Why is it that the BO (body odour) bothers everyone else but the people with the BO? Are they so olfactorily challenged? I have this relative, poor lad, who is allergic to perfumes and deos and starts sneezing uncontrollably every time sprays one of them on. I kind of very nicely told him, when he explained why he was sneezing, that perhaps, he could spray his clothes a little while before he puts them on. I found out the next time that he hadn’t really given much thought to my suggestion, no.

Not everyone has a nose with a sense of discretion. Some wear perfumes that can be smelled two houses away. Then there are those who, when they walk by you, make you nauseous. The perfume is so strong that it goes straight to your head and gives you an immediate headache. A lot people call those ‘Dubai’ or ‘Muslim’ perfumes because those fragrances remind you of the attars that you get in the side streets in Hyderabad. Then there are the spicy ones, the lemony ones, the sweet ones, etc. I personally prefer men’s deos but women’s perfumes. Did you know that during research, to decide whether a particular perfume/deo will be a hit with men or not, they test it with women and vice versa? It should be no surprise then, as to why a lot of women like wearing men’s deos. I think the deos last much longer and they also smell much fresher.

I’m rather addicted to perfumes and deos because the fragrances are so sensual. I recently bought a deo. It behaves somewhat strangely. When I smell it I can make out how it really smells. When I spray it on, I can hardly smell it. Then when I wake up the next morning, it just smells amazing. It’s this soft, dull smell that makes you feel like your clothes were washed in it. I love that. Perfumes can be really sexy. But you should be able to get a head-spinning whiff only when you come close to a person. Like say, when you are hugging someone or sitting or standing right next to them. It’s no fun when it overwhelms.

You need to pick the perfumes really carefully, because the first whiff that you get is not what lingers and of course each person’s body reacts differently to each perfume. In the movie, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, it is explained that a perfume is made of three things or chords – the head, the heart and the base. The head is what you can smell immediately after you apply a perfume. The heart is what emerges after the head fragrance fades away. The base is what lingers. The heart and the base are the parts that essentially make up a perfume. So, next time you go sniffing for a new perfume, remember not to get fooled by the initial fragrance that wafts by your nose. Choose wisely and patiently for you never know who will smell you, as stalker-ish as that sounds.

I have a bunch of friends whom I’ve known since I was a kid. I am on good terms with a lot of them and have not lost touch. Growing up does that a lot of times; making one lose touch. It’s a good feeling knowing that most of these relationships are almost as old as you are. Most of these people are from my previous residential complex and my school. Rum, who used to stay there along with me is my, what you could call, first friend ever. After she shifted, we still stuck together in school. KV joined us in school and Rum and she became good friends. The three of us did take time to bond because of all the school-ish jealousy and fights, mostly on my part because I thought KV was stealing my best friend away.

Anyway, the three of us eventually managed to put our differences aside and bond and we are still close, touchwood. Although I still complain that they are much closer to each other than me and that I feel it’s not fair. They retaliate by saying that I keep going out of town. I guess some things never change. After school, college, etc, KV ended up marrying her Maharashtrian boyfriend whom she had been dating since school and whom Rum and I disapproved of very much for various reasons. And Rum, she recently got engaged to, guess what, her Maharashtrian boyfriend. It wasn’t a coincidence, really.

KV is now almost 5 months pregnant with her first child. Rum and I visited her the day before. KV gave me her brand new pair of jeans which she obviously doesn’t fit into anymore and Rum, a skirt and top. We very willing offered to take them off her hands while she threatened us that she’d come for them after delivery. We knew that there was no way she’d ever fit into the stuff ever again. I told her so too. We sat around and looked through a book that talked about pregnancy and what one should do and all that. It freaked me out. Not that I wasn’t freaked out enough about pregnancy already. I find it very abnormal. Alien, I think is more like it. I mean, come on, there is something inside. And it is growing. As if that isn’t enough, you can feel the kicks and bumps and actually see the baby moving in the later stages. I found it so strange to see KV like that and told Rum how it was freaking me out.

As we watched the hills and the rain from the 13^th floor it was decided that we would have Pav Bhaaji. I protested because that meant we had to go down in the rain and buy ingredients. My protests were vetoed. They went and got the stuff and I was put in charge of peeling garlic pods and buttering the pav. I have to say, we had the most amazing meal while it rained outside, with a power cut inside. What a way to bring in the rains!

Earlier, KV was talking about how the baby had started kicking. It made me want to feel the baby kick. It refused to for a while but started stirring just as we were about to leave. I put my hand on her stomach, urging the little thing to kick. It did. They were tiny, soft movements that you could miss if you were not focused enough. As freaky as it was, it made me realize there was something, very much alive inside. As we left, I promised that I would visit more often and that I was going to spoil the baby. I was designated as the one who would take the kid out for drinks and smokes. I like.

Rum and I were walking out of KV’s complex, when I realized that one of “us” was going to have a baby. It suddenly was a big deal as I realized that our relationships had developed a new aspect. I am going to be an Aunt.

ME:       So did you have dinner?

A:         Yes.

ME:       What did you have?

A:         Chana dal…

ME:       Ain? Only chana dal?

A:         No… mummy made prawns korma…

ME:       Prawns? I thought you were going to go off non-veg… what happened?

A:         Yes. But we were all asked to have non-veg.

ME:       What nonsense?! Asked by whom?

A:         Baba Ramdev.

ME:       Baba Ramdev?!!! I doubt he would have done that.

A:         No, he did.

ME:       Accha… and why did he ask you all to have?

A:         He said if we didn’t, then we would suffer from nutritional deficiency.

ME:       Riiiiight.

A:         By the way, do you have lice in your hair?

 ME:      WHAT??! No! Why?

A:         Because I felt something crawling on my head two days back…

ME:       Something crawled on your head, so you think I have lice?

A:         I know you do…don’t lie…

ME:       The last I saw you was 2 weeks ago…

A:         So what?

ME:       So, I don’t have lice…

A:         But they multiply only after some days… I know you gave me the first one…

ME:       What nonsense? I don’t have lice…

In spite of my disgust at the amount of money being sunk into DLF IPL, I find myself riveted in front of my television every time the Rajasthan Royals are playing. Strangely, I feel no sense of loyalty for my ‘home’ team, the Mumbai Indians. Instead I find myself becoming more and more loyal to the Royals as I see the team fighting tooth and nail in every match and continuing to be high on enthusiasm and effort in spite of not having well-known players in the team. Shane Warne’s captaincy too is a joy to watch and leaves little to be criticized. Although I can do without watching any other team playing, I make sure that I watch every match of theirs and if not that, then I at least find out the results of the match.

Yesterday, as they were playing the visitors – the Delhi Daredevils – at home, my heart was caught in my throat. Towards the end of the first innings, after the Devils seemed to set for a very gettable, low final score, Maharoof walked in and took the total to what would make for a formidable chase. Every boundary this man hit got my spirits lower and lower till I felt that the Royals had a real problem on their hands. The over where Maharoof took apart Shane Warne’s bowling with 4 sixes was particularly disappointing to watch as it both, propelled the total to a higher one and also made Shane Warne look as if he was not in control of the situation at all.

Before my loyalty is questioned, I have to say that I’m not all for this league-ish loyalty that the IPL is trying to create. And I’m not so sure that it’ll work either. Ok fine, they are cheering now but how long it will last is anybody’s guess. It’s definitely not working with me as is the case with some others that I know. The reason I’m unsure about the degree of loyalty that may or may not be developed is because I doubt if the Indian spectators can develop the fierce loyalty like that of the football fans abroad. Liverpool, Manchester United, etc have such a loyal and vociferous fan base that the support one sees at the home games there is perfectly capable of practically winning the game for the home team, which has been the case in a lot of games. Imagine walking into the stadium and seeing it filled with the home colours and not a speck of any other colour and the decibel level so loud that you can’t hear your neighbour talk. Imagine this crowd then throwing their full weight behind you regardless of whether you are leading or lagging behind. Somehow I don’t see this happening at cricket matches. Most of the times, when home team is lagging behind and the odds seem against them, the whole stadium falls silent. Only boundaries are cheered. All said and done, at the end of the day, the support matters a great deal and I’m not sure whether the level of loyalty that IPL seeks to create can be commanded from such a crowd of spectators.

This support or rather a lack of it was quite apparent from the second innings of yesterday’s game. After being restricted to what was the lowest total in first 5 overs of the IPL tournament, the Royals seemed to heading towards a definite loss. The crowd seemed to sense this and became really quiet and the cheers and shouts got stuck half way in their throats, just like my heart. Only when Shane Watson stepped into crease did the cheers and shouts dislodge and the odds seemed to be once again on level. From that point onwards the odds went up and down like my blood pressure and at no point could I predict the outcome till the last ball was actually bowled.

Although a place in the final four was practically guaranteed for the Royals and it was the Devils who had to win this match if they had to have any hope of getting into the final four, I didn’t want the Royals to lose. As the Royals won, my heart lurched free of my throat with joy and I realized that somehow this whole thing had turned into a matter of pride for me, that it mattered to me that the Royals didn’t lose and in fact continued to top the tables. I realized I was cheering silently in spite of being disgusted with IPL for turning cricket into more a source of entertainment than a sport.

1. You find what you are looking for when you stop looking for it.

2. The moments you want to remember forever are often the ones you don’t want to photograph.

3. If the world didn’t revolve around money, we would all be happy.

4. No one ever grows up. It’s just that they forget how to be a child.

5. Nothing is ever just black or white. Life is always made up of shades of gray.

6. All your opinions will always keep changing from time to time, along with your beliefs.

7. It’s easy to forgive and but not easy to forget.

8. When you get addicted to something, that’s when you realize you that you never needed it in the first place.

9. Lying will sooner or later blow up in your face.

And last but not the least…

10. Music always helps you get back to reality.

Dear Mr. President B & Ms. Rice (!),

I have some doubts that I’d like for you to clarify. I’ve listed them all in points so that you have no trouble reading them.

1. Do stomach sizes and/or appetites proportionately increase with an increase in monthly income?

2. I would understand if an increased demand for food (and therefore prices) was equated with an increase in population. But I don’t really understand this link between middle-class’s prosperity and food prices. So please, Sir/Madam, could you elaborate?

3. How different can the more ‘nutritious’ food be from the food that we are already consuming? I am completely puzzled by this point because I’m from a middle-class family and have been eating more or less the same food for as long as I have been alive.  Kindly explain.

4. Correct me if I’m wrong, but, isn’t America primarily a meat-eating country? You ran out of animals, yes? That’s why you good folks over there are worried about skyrocketing prices of grain worldwide, yes? Or are you worried about what the animals will eat?

5. I heard America is turning towards bio-fuel which effectively means that corn and other crops are being used to create an alternative source of fuel. You want us to eat less so that you can drive your car, yes?

I’m eagerly awaiting your erudite explanations. Hope you help me understand things a bit more clearly.

Yours truly,

Middle-class K.

I was watching TV and I came across this promo for a serial called “Eureka!”. It caught my eye because it integrated some equations with scenes from the serial, equations that made so much sense to me for they stated some facts in such a simple manner. I just thought I should share them, so, here they are –

Science – Ethics = Murder

Emotions – Logic = Faith

Life – Dreams = Job

I have no idea where my life is going and what is even more unsettling is that I don’t think I will ever know any better at any point in my life. I’m torn between earning money to survive and doing what I want to for achieving a feeling of contentment. And I’m having a difficult time merging both satisfactorily. The fact that there are many others who feel like me is not reassuring me in anyway.

I’m 25 and have never felt more alone and lost. And at this point I want nothing more than to not feel that way. But I’m forced to face something that I cannot digest and desperately want to believe is not true – that we are all born alone and we all live our lives alone. No matter what anyone else tells you that’s the truth. We do what not to try and counter that one universal truth but fail miserably. Marriage, companionship, live-in relationships, becoming parents, friends, everything is a sham, every relationship an elaborate charade that we carry out where we try to fool ourselves that we are not alone.  But guess what? We are.

It a fatal flaw that we all have, this need to not feel alone and lonely, the consequence of which is us ending up losing focus of so many things. God is sitting up there smacking his or head in frustration wondering when we will all learn. But what is not meant to be is exactly that. We do all that we do so that we attract, surround ourselves with and hold on to people who, we fool ourselves into believing, will be with us. Then there are others who sabotage each and every relationship they have in so many different ways, pushing people away and then moping about how everyone leaves them not realizing that their behaviour lends itself to what can be called ‘a self-fulfilling prophecy’. It is all such a sorry demonstration of the fear each of us has inside of being alone.

I feel compelled to compare this ‘being alone/lonely feeling’ to something called ‘Anesthesia Awareness’. It is doesn’t occur that frequently but what is means is that you are suddenly awake during surgery and can hear and feel everything, conversations and pain, but cannot do a damn thing to let people know because you cannot open your eyes or talk or move any part of your body due to a muscle relaxant you are given for the surgery. Basically anesthesia stops working. This is basically what life is. And by the by, alone and lonely are two words that are linked inextricably and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. Even Microsoft word says that alone is a synonym for lonely.

People seek other people out because at the end nobody wants to die alone in an empty room. Nobody wants to face death by themselves. But everyone dies alone. You see, just before you die all your senses stop functioning one by one. First you lose the ability to taste, then smell, then see, then touch and then finally hear.

So, even if someone is sitting next to your bed holding your hand, you cannot tell them how you feel. The one thing that you will want at that moment is for someone to understand what you are going through and that is the one thing that you will not have. You won’t smell the familiarity even when it’s right next to you. You won’t see them. You won’t feel them. And as you stare at the darkness, you won’t even hear them at the end, there will only be silence ringing in your ears. You will die alone.

A:         WHAT? WHAT are you saying ya? Talk loudly no!!

ME:       What the hell ya! Can’t you hear me? Idiot!

A:         I CAN’T! You are mumbling!

ME:       What nonsense! YOU are deaf!

A:         I’m NOT deaf! YOU MUMBLE!

ME:       I mumble! I mumble?!? YOU do! You are the one that mumbles!! You mumble when cooking, you mumble when you are opening the fridge, you mumble when working, you mumble all the time!

A:         Yes, but when I mumble it’s not for anyone to hear. I’m not talking to anyone.

ME:       (laughing my ass off)

 What crap! But I want to hear what you are saying na! If you want to mumble then you shouldn’t say anything out loud!

A:         No…no…the point is YOU mumble when talking to anyone. I don’t. Irritating!

Super-Dry Adult Diapers:


"Now, a bedspread free with every purchase!"

God is a man. I’m almost sure of it. One day, after he had finished creating us all, he must’ve sat back with a smug grin on his face and thought, “Now, what can I do to make women more interesting?” Then he decided to bless us with emotions and PMS. As if those two by themselves weren’t enough, guess what, they were complementary and one often meant that the other was following. Had it been a Goddess up there, I’m sure she would have decided that men must be subjected to intense emotions, PMS and monthly bleeding.

As if this itself wasn’t enough for us to deal with, we now have people being all cheery and chirpy and telling us to “Have a happy period!”, like WTF?! They actually think that that little line will make us happy about lying curled up in a foetal position while most of our body is being assaulted with cramping pain? Do you see people selling adult diapers and going, “Have a happy enuresis!”??

PMS is a wicked, wicked thing. It makes me want to pick a fight for no reason at all, cry at the drop of a hat and generally feel very emotional. Like a Molotov cocktail, where different emotions are thrown in to make my state of mind more volatile. Sometimes I think what if we cultivate these groups of women soldiers who are all chum-synchronized and are sent out to patrol the streets or to war during their PMS? We already specialize in blocking and screaming someone to death, courtesy of train travel. Think about it. We won’t even need weapons. The sharp tongues and scathing words that flow like lava from our mouths during PMS are enough to reduce the opposition to whimpering kids. And then we will stand like mountains in front of them and stop them from running back to where they came from and then we can scream at them and send them to their rooms.

Maybe this is how we were supposed to be and since there had to be some kind of control system to let men feel superior, He decided we would bleed these feelings out every month. It could be true you know. Because by the time women hit menopause they have the men wrapped around their little fingers and are usually the ones calling the shots.