Sunday, December 30, 2007

chaotic unison

Now when I came here, one thing was definite - it is going to be a weird experience. Something that kept on popping up all throughout was the sound of my doubt. A sort of unison dawned upon me as there were images that went, stopped and passed by. I asked if there are more questions now than the answers. Then, I asked if there was anything I could make sense of. Hmm, some and yeah some. I am here in an insane theatre, with a lust to propagate my ideas through the universe and trap minds as I fly. Why do I then hear voices that laugh all along the highway?
There is not just one thing that has happened since I came here; there is not just one thing that has happened since I came here. I have discovered that the longer I am suspended in a state of discord with the real world, with nothing to affect my kind of life with its blandishments and things alike, the more I tend to oscillate between uneven loops. There is everything I can see, there is everything that I can not hold onto. So is it alright if I keep on floating? No comes the answer as I have to figure out things for a "better life" as I am more educated than I could have thought to be. And the eyes pop out when I express my wish to continue the academic escapades.
Yes, the primary intent was that of an escapade. The trouble began when I embraced and started liking it more with every day. Now where do I go with this chaotic unison in my head?

Saturday, December 01, 2007

the library

It is one of the wonderlands I am quite happy to be lost in as Alice. I just enter a huge reservoir of thoughts that finally had the chance to be published, and what awaits me is a dungeon of ideas that I would love to embrace.
So, I touch them from the top to the bottom shelf. They always seem to be undisturbed by my presence and yet smell good when I finally frolic with them in my hand. Is that not cool?
But that is not what amazes me! Cobain has said it so many times that he needs peace of mind to write. Or to give shapes to his ideas. That is one of the reasons I love Cobain; he thinks of the world there and his world as there. These writers had their existence removed from the social circle and yet wrote pivotal pieces about that very sphere they had abstained from. But they, in their own respective spheres, were so correct! Adorno has his critics and so does Jameson; but for every critic, there is an admirer. And all I hope is that the ratio of admirer increases exponentially.
Library... Oh what a place. I feel so... It is like you are uncle scrooge from duck tales who jumps into a pool of money and then swims with an ease that is reflective of a certain inexplicable passion. Yeah, thats me. And their plays the dream of my retirement - a big hall with my DVDs, vinyls, CDs, spools, tapes, fables, hardbounds and softbounds etc.
That is a kind of eros for me! ummm... Yeah I would love to leave it at that...

Wednesday, October 17, 2007


I write this under intoxication, in a holistic sense. No, this does not constitute ramblings. The evening said its first hello to me in New Cross - my new home for some time. The amber descended on the concrete structures shining things like a fresh splash. Suburbia is a good place to discover oneself in a mad city. The sky was gleaming with pride; it thinks of the sun and moon as its kittens. Fool! As it kissed goodbye to the horizon, cadmium was there all over disconnecting the cords of present connections. Would anyone be interested in knowing how lost I was? They wouldn't be as I wasn't either! When you face the nature alongwith its toys, you just make a free fall in the trampoline, closing your eyes. Whooops I go and Whoopssss I rise! Roseta Stoned tries to add some riffs but it does not help. Would Ghost Song do the needful? I doubt. And the octagonal territory I am positioned in with two obese women adds to the banality so there is no need to spend time describing that. There was a sudden collapse of space-time dimension. The departing air leaves some shades hanging onto loose corners of the central architecture. Spotted - a leaf in maroon and a bloom in orange. Contrast - The beige of the stones adding their distinct hue. Grass is unpruned and helps the soul loft like a feather. It spoke in whispers, the tone that makes a direct connection. Can you feel a little love; dream on!

Wednesday, October 10, 2007


This is what I don't like. After writing this long a post (see below), moonstruck is lost in a time warp again. Is life fast or I was too slow to catch up? We meet to part ways and keep some in our heart as memories, good and bad. There are always going to be 'those times' flashing in the head. Ayesha once said, "In school, we all thought all of us friends are inseparable until we came out and poof it was gone. This is life!" There was sadness with a question mark on her face more than facing-the-truth expression. Women aren't that practical and nor are men.
Let me shed a dry tear and come back.


It has been so long since I was here! Man, it almost feels like one big wave of time has went by. No, it is not that dramatic. Moonstruck is back in the student mode! This felt like one of those morning dreams which I usually have without any dose of alcohol or charas, while the process was still on. It has taken a gargantuan effort for me to come out of the work mode and get into some serious academic shell, which I dread more than hate. There were people who were giving a confused look thinking now is the time when he can actually strike it hard in his career. They were right! But then, something was missing somewhere. And I am not able to define it somehow. Finally, I took inside a deep breath and turned my back on office, hurting few.

And then went in a mode where a lot happened - introspection, reflections, tears and sleepless nights. I started thinking how this would be the last time I might see few people; a couple of them might not be there when I am back, others would just go their way. I tried catching up with everyone, as much as possible. This included my parents who even sadly remarked, with a smile of course, 'what would I do here without you?' Cobain said the same. And so did a few others without saying it actually. Sassy was sad and so was Sush. S made the effort of seeing me in the rains. Mary Jane somehow could not, and though I have every reason to be pissed, I am not. Because I have sort of given up on her; so much for being best friends. It is with a shrug and not cynicism, mind you. Then again, there are few like TK, who don't even know that I am no longer in India. And then there are P&G who are excited and happy for me being in Canada. And of course Somu and Aditi who feel the same staying in Oxford. The most difficult part of leaving my country has been locking a pandora's box of memories and moments waiting to be lived, those daydreams and stories. Society is a parasite that has to eat you and you have to allow it right now in order to successfully shred it off your skin one day. This do this and do that is not going to stick me for long. Right now, this is important for me and that's why I am doing it. How it is going to turn the course, I don't know.

Because the point is I am happy being a student. The first day I went to college and walked in those corridors, it felt strange, and good. I shared this with S that it was like Peter Parker in Spiderman 2, the raindrops are falling on my head scene. My batch is a healthy mix of people from all walks of life (aargh, what a cliche) and countries. Our professors are like really cool, given their multicultural backgrounds and disciplines. My nights are usually getting spent at the Students Union Bar where no body even looks at me and I think they have reasons. Also, it is a place where a lot of undergraduates end up playing snooker or pooh-pooing their kitties. But I, enjoy my drinks under the dark sky. The good thing -- one rum n coke costs me 2 pounds which is almost the amount I paid there.

Before this, it is time to say a big THANK YOU to my amazing Sonu Didi who has made my stay no less than a joyride. She is so warm. I was lucky to spend the first fortnight at her house in Harrow. I mean, in her words, fantastic! My bua was equally caring, as if I am not her nephew but her son. How cool is that? The first week, didi and jijaji took me to Lake District. So all of us packed in their Toyota land up in what I call one of the most beautiful places on the planet. Oh, about my jijaji, he is a cool dude. So chilled out and so friendly. You would not expect him to be so warm immediately given he has met me only twice till now and that too in family functions. He helped me out with the tube map on the very frst hour I landed and even took me to the college so that I know how to commute. Then the vacation. Could I have asked for a better start to my stay in London. A remarked 'Wow, you have just landed and already travelling!' Yeah man, courtesy my sweet family. But Sonu Didi deserves a BIG HUG. Food, travel, affection, she has done her bit more than anyone else could. Reminds me of my mom, totally. Love you Didi. And cheers Jijaji. He is always like, 'Get over this country liquor man, grow up. What rum and coke and everytime, learn to have some wine.' Not a difficult task. Above all, I have so much respect for my bua and phuphaji. I don't know if we would again get times like these to spend together.

And, now here, away from everyone and all of it that was there at one time, I am unable to say what I am actually feeling. In one way, it has not sunk in really. And by what time, I can not say.

So, what I will do is, when these feelings envelope me again, rush back to the house that love built, remember my mom, papa, mickey, and those I love within family, those friends I can never do without, those drinking buddies I could never imagine being such great buds with, women, all of them, even the ones I secretly feel for, and those I have never met but would have loved to (like lostlittlegirl, misfit, SiM, Ruchika and whole lot of them) and just try and make head and tail out of my life. Or maybe just another rum n coke! Cheers.

Friday, July 27, 2007

Tell me Oh dear tarot.....

Over the past few weeks, I have been really busy doing nothing. Nothing except reading tarot cards. Now, my mother is an expert, learnt it the right way and practiced step by step. Moonstruck is born impatient and anything that he sets his eyes on must come to him immediately. It does not, for it is a rule of life. But then, I am happy fiddling with the deck of cards that show the future.
Since childhood, I have had the fascination for psychic readings — in the form of palmistry, sun signs, black magic et al. Mystery is a scorpion's middle name and the when the unknown confronts me, it heightens the blood flow.That is why I like doing the impossible and difficult, in that order. So, it was obvious when the meticulously drawn major arcana first came before me, I was kicked.
But that was given like a handout of sorts, with no reading material. Deducing comes from clues; with no foundation there was no space for them either. Mother decided to pursue it from scratch. Go ahead mummy, I am right there to pick up the traits.
And one day, the Zen Tarot Cards arrive. Oh, it was like opening the new set of comics or chandamama in childhood. That aroma, glossy cover, and the touch of something that the virgin mind is so attracted to. Once my mother was through, it was time for Neptune genius to shuffle them up.
Every card is a story, a depiction of the hidden and not-so-obvious but evident details of the mind/heart/karma of a man. The set of cards we possess is a reflection of the person's soul we are about to read the future of.
Now, when I couple my Reiki powers/sun connection with crystal ball on paper, there is something so whacky that I could never have imagined.
My first guinea pigs, in reality or mano-i-mano, were P&G. Ok, that means you do not need be in front of the person. There is no need of his/her physical presence. So I had done my homework, well pretty much, before I were to do abracadabra on them.
Somehow, when I nudge my powers, there is a strange world that dawns. It is like everything is pure white and there is a feeling in the palm that confirms the presence of power. It has taken me almost 7 years to develop the skills for mixing the ingredients of sun-signs, palmistry, mind-reading and, the most important of them all, talking in the right tone. I have to be careful of my words, readings and their communication. As a rule, we (as in psychics or whatever shit that means) can't tell all and present the hideous details in a better way.
With tarot, you know you are safe. Because every card has numerous interpretations, some crafted by the painter/artist in a clandestine manner, and surprisingly, some that are oh-that-is-so-obvious. But, not for the reader.
So far, I have freaked out the heads of three — all women. All good looking, smart, confident (well almost) and sexy at the same time. P, G and T.
It is such a kick I tell you but at the same time, it also teaches refrain. And I have just started out. The fool's journey has begun.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Strange day

When I woke up today, there was little idea of what lies ahead. It was not a good morning for me as the head was clueless — a feeling that disgusts me beyond any rationale. It happens at irregular intervals and there is something ringing aloud up there that shouts "This is the day". Tuesdays are generally bromidic. So, I keep so low that in an empty room, chances are, I might just be missed. Though, there is every reason for moonstruck to be happy when that happens. In between, there was a temporary high of sorts when I learnt that for number 5, this is a good day. Bah! Numerology can be so misleading.
So it was time to get on the feet and set the papers in line. My LSE admission has again been paused for lack of more documents — graduate transcripts, semester wise. This they had not asked earlier. I now wonder whether they intend to give me an offer or not. And even if I manage to receive one, would the juice be worth the squeeze. Yes, I am patient and highly impatient with few things.
Then I learn that the Enfield's engine has an oil leakage and it has badly scarred the shiny armour. Also, some humbug neighbour parked it in such a way that I found it being supported by the wall and not its stands. And then this, then that, then this, then that...
But this was just the beginning. A had told me the turmoil S was going through these days and esp the last 48 hours. So, I pretended not to know anything and went to the smoke zone with her. In no time, the details were out - her beau, supposed beau, is seeing someone else. This is really something that shook me up. Monday afternoon was spent with mom practicing tarot. Obviously I had to figure out S's story too. What came out, I am keeping to myself for a little longer than intended, as the timing is inappropriate. Now with her professional and personal life on rocks, I really pray good times start to roll. It is time this girl starts laughing, and without pretence or that plastic smile that she fights to put it on her innocent face. The office is becoming a graveyard, in real terms now and in a lot of ways that I find hard to speak of.
Still, the day is not over yet and was not worthwhile. The bad days that I blogged about earlier are a different story — being a Neptune, I love taking them head on, even though the admittance would be conspicuous by its absence. A boring day that constantly irks and presents a morose picture without daydreaming is unacceptable.
Although I have been receiving good news from all corners. And I will not reproduce as they are very close friends; don't wish to jinx them (I can be superstitious). Holy Cow is on the blogosphere and she just can not hold onto her horses. The other good news made me really happy. It also transported me to that time and for a moment, there were three-four different elements in my happiness. I resigned from the fact that I was talking to her and went for a smoke. That is the best I could do. This cornucopia of emotions shall culminate in another post. Because there is so much to say that it will take a long time to process and arrange the thoughts.
As the day finally ends, this convoluted language up there has bereaved me of my sensibility, clarity and above all, belief that things are good or soon will be. But the scorp will hang on and wait for tomorrow. Have a lot of catching up to do of yesterday too. And then a nice evening awaits me with P&G. That will be something to talk about.

Monday, July 09, 2007


It never dawned on me that there is a sizeable cult by the name of Singlehood. For someone who never was in one place, wanderer by choice and mostly mentally not physically, the whole idea of being a Single was like just another phenomenon. Probably just another way of living in a society or whatever shit. But now, things have changed.
So after two rock solid relationships and two that never took off, it is for the first time I am being pinched everywhere in the dark by these Singlehood bugs. It is difficult for half the world to welcome you as a single, first things first. "You are 24? And single!" Then there are others who scoff. Another chunk of these people are like thumbs up. "Dude, I admire you man. All by yourself, never scared to do things alone and you are courageous man. I like your spirit." Chal naa!
I am lucky to have friends who are single and I also hope they don't stay that way for long. Thry are all very nice and sweet. D&A, Cobain, Mary Jane etc etc etc.
So right now, there are times when I can still call anyone up and share a drink. Not that I can not do it alone; I love being with myself amidst hundred people I don't know. But that is also a nice way to enjoy your time. Apart from the fact that now even those who I hadn't expected to have begun asking me about my love life, dating, sex and all those pertinent questions you are going to be tied down with. The worst part - they all need an answer and I can not deny them.
Yes, so those contact lenses are back, the Enfield has been set roaring, the shades look well lit in nighttime just like the old days and after a real long time, the eau de colognes, deos (sporty, strong, fresh et al), perfumes, all of them are back.
Except for one teeny weeny pimple of a problem -I don't have a date. And honestly, I am not even looking for it. Some optimism my friends have.
There are a bunch of other problems too. I have gained weight and lost height. No, there is no transposition of words, but it is true. There are no muscles. And the last time I took out a girl, yes a GIRL for drinks, she was two inches taller than me and really fuckin hot. Besides her glowing face that just made me bumble with so many good feelings but I was dumb. No I was a dumbfuck. Poor girl must have been bored out of her wits - she is really intelligent. The worst part was all that we could spend were 45 minutes. I shall write about the girl in the next post. She is really interesting.

BUt but but, the point is, no the fuckin point is I have been bitten and real bad by these bugs. I am single confused to comment whether to mingle, any girl out there, give me a tinkle. And do give me some time to prepare. I shall not let this SInglehood plague me anymore.
(to be continued)

Saturday, July 07, 2007

Fuckin Bad Day!

Oh! Fuck wank bugger shitting arse head and hole!

There are bad days and there are bad days. But in between there is FUCKIN BAD DAY. That is like a cactus up your arse. When I start the day, it is with a smile, thinking, that somehow the world is not such a bad place after all. Somehow things are not all black and white and when I can see the grey, they can too. WRONG! Because there are just two ways of looking at things.
So I learn the office is not comfortable with my presence today. Alright! Like I care beyond a certain point. My helmet cracks up and I don't know what to do as I got to reach office on time. And Roman would continue to scoff at my helmet. The body is paining, as fever has gripped in with its allies - cough and cold. Pop a pill, pop another. No, it does not help, not the least. There is rain or no rain. People they call relatives are at home and there is utter confusion up there - you can't go back home and you can't leave office so late. You try and look good and despite your best efforts and your fuckin' ill health, there is not even acknowledgement. Vanity is indeed a personal issue. The air is tight, real bottleneck tight. The favourite joint has to put the meter down as there is cops' problem. And when you reach another of your favourite place to hang out with good friends and people, the cops have a problem there too. And then, of all the motherfuckin bad luck instances, the cops had a problem with ME. The clock ticked in and ticked and ticked and no sir, the drunk khakee would not budge. Call up your folks, and let ussshhhh talk to them. Teree maa keeeeee! That done, the ultimate yuppie pretentious disgusting of a soul crossed us there. 'What the fuck?' react Penny, Gowri and Moi. Some people have the nerve and the dilemma is that we can not tell her that this is getting too rotten and no more pretending AND you just can not fuckin insult her. Because we are nice people; chutiya as I would put it. D&A don't know how to react... they could not even understand whether they should react. Poor simple, clean-hearted, sweet buggers. Icing on the cake is a lesson - it is either a date or a coffee meeting. These are the only two ways of looking at it. Like I said Black and White. Random is a word associated with losers and focus with dorks or super achievers. I am still trying to make head and tail out of this logic.
Yeah, laugh you drug peddler. You are having some good time out of this.
"Ya toh deewana hanse, ya tu jise taufeeq de; Warna is duniya mein rah kar, muskara sakata hai kaun."
"You are the spotted outcast Kirit. Ruled by Luna, descendant of Pluto and born with five planets in one house, what more did you expect? You have been granted bad days, and it is not so bad. When there are no ears, or eyes, it is better to retreat. Cheer up and Boom Shankar! Fuck the fuckin bad day, there are more to come and each carries a new flavour. Let's just savour them."

Moonstruck does not know how but the drug peddler is an intelligent dormant animal who knows to calm the maniac. Yeah, let's just fuck this.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Marital bliss... damn

Pre-Script: Amit dada says, "Kittu, when there is a wedding in the family, a new relationship is formed and several others are broken or harmed."

I had not seen a family wedding happen in some time. So, when one of my paternal uncles decided to hold the marriage of his son in Noida, it was a news of mixed feelings. Detached as I have been from his family for sometime, I was also indifferent to the happiness. This is so bloody unlike me, a man who wishes to celebrate more than he has in his capacity to. I did not know for one how can he have the nerve to order my parents to help them with every damn thing when the scars of the past are quite fresh. I wanted to enjoy but given my parents' insult, I chose to give them a cold shoulder.
Although I was surprised by their newfound affectionate attitude — the deliberate dose of sincerity had me puzzled for some time.
More than that, the sudden revival of dead ties.
Anyway, I avoided the side functions like Lagun and Madha and went only for the main ones. (The entire khaandaan was putting up in Noida and I preferred to stay at home)
And to my dismay, I was not even questioned. Some family I have man.
Carrying the same chromosomes as my folks, it was obvious for me to be warm. Sometimes, I detest the gene, while I love to embrace them too. In the film Anand, there is a line that the protagonist says to sum up the wounds inflicted by his 'family'. "The way we choose our friends, I wish we could choose our (familial) relations too."
So we continued to be warm and participate with full zest, though hating it at the same time. And one after the other, the ties started to break. I knew something would happen for sure, and it did. What disappointed me was the pace at which caustic remarks were hurled and utter disregard was exhibited esp by dearest uncle and aunt. This woman is so damn illiterate that she does not think for a second before putting family's respect at stake. We may be forgotten Rajputs on one hand and Punjabi landlords on other, every household as respect at its core.
But when it got a little too much, I decided to discontinue the reciprocated love. Go to hell!
In the past two days, after everyone has reached their respective towns, I am beginning to learn of the shocking details and esp those that papa and mummy had to face. And this fucks up my head further. Why? Why does it happen every fucking time? Is this some sort of a family ritual?
My other paternal uncle called up the eldest aunt and told her that this is over. "There is no way we can continue these ties when Praneet and Shalini (my parents) have been subjected to such insults. These people have not changed and it is better we do not face them anymore."
This is not the first time the entire fucking khaandaan has let me down. At the main function, while I was helping my naani out with dinner, and so were my folks, I saw the entire family up on the stage for a phamily picture. WHAT THE FUCK!!! Where is my mom and dad? Why couldn't one of them ask loudly for us and stop the damn shutterbug from going ahead? The same happened in 1990. And history repeated itself. I felt so bad for my people, they worked their ass off for your bloody son's wedding and this is what you give them in return. Fuck You!
Some family this is man!
I am glad the Prince's wedding is over. Though I do feel sorry for the bride as she does not know what she is going to face. Poor girl, she was not even welcomed properly into our side. Have you ever seen a bride going in a car that was not even decorated? I felt so ashamed for a moment.

Post Script: Given a choice between family, society and a friend, I would always go for the friend. At least you have liberty in the relationship.

Saturday, June 30, 2007


Interesting post on Indian media from SAJA forum.

In the U.S. media - land of Paris Hilton interviews on primetime TV and other fluff journalism - there's plenty to criticize.

Catch the full story here.

Friday, June 29, 2007

the breakthrough

Running amok, ideas stir a frenzy in the tranquility
round and round, messy all over,
Sirius sparkles through the brume
when words fall short, it is the shine that speaks
either is conspicuous inside the soul
it is time, the worm must extrude itself
the wings are coiled up, by them
extend the claw,
embrace the animal and catch one of those nuggets
that run wild with a distinct cry
for it is time
the rebirth

Cryptic language or plain idiocy

How often have we done/said something reflective of our fears, insecurities and love and received flak like 'Dude, get a life'? In the recent past, there were few instances that led me into a strange brain-tussle. A few weeks ago, I decided to send SMS (not random) to people I love and had a strong bond with; of course, in my heart. At some point or other, they had contributed in loving me and it was time I thanked them, with all sincerity, acknowledging their deed or words. A very few responded, which was not disappointing. What however made me feel sick was the attitude of people that had only two options - too much alcohol or loser! One of them retorted such a silly viewpoint by saying, Kirit, your message followed the rules of grammar and was well punctuated. Sassy said, 'How can those who are close to you think of your message as negative or a joke?' Could I give an answer?
And so, moonstruck narrowed down to few people in his life via a cellphone. Who says technology is NOT a boon?
The thing with people is, they are born unique. Ergo, every soul must make an effort to make that distinction in his head about the language of the message he wishes to get across another soul. But we don't do that. Because it is difficult and given the comfort of not exercising your brain, who would possibly want to do something like that. But then, there are people like me who do that all the bloody time and receive flak for it. A close person once told me, 'Kirit, if you can't talk straight, don't expect the world to go on deducing meanings'. I never asked that because if at all, I converse subtly, it is with those who are in the first place close to me. At least, that is what they make you understand about them. When I can make an effort to understand them without them telling me, why can't they understand me without me telling them? Balls to your intelligence and affection then.

I have been wondering for quite some time to talk it out with Mary Jane. Once she asked me whether she takes me for granted. These questions puzzle me as they don't have a definitive answer. And if your (supposed) best friend asks you something like this, what do you say? Yes, there have been umpteen instances where this has happened. I don't have a complaint, but there were times when I wanted to cry and didn't know what to do. And there was always a doubt regarding calling her up. I have dropped direct hints but all in vain. But then, I don't hate these 'close' people for not getting me, but...

If you sit down with your pal, and explain how it is all going wrong or there is something discomforting, does it not mean that you are forced to talk it out. It is unlike calling up your friend and asking what's wrong from the very hello she utters. But that never translates into a reality, for me.

They say my language is difficult. I say you are a fuckin' idiot. I really wonder there is something wrong with me. And the more I spend time in solitude, the more comforting it gets. I really wish there is a day when people wake up and to their horror, they can not talk, at all. Language is a convoluted paradigm for numerous thoughts and perceptions; it is certainly not a civilised and designed manner of speech. Then, we'll talk...

Friday, June 22, 2007

Hard soul or hands off approach...

So the ordeal is finally over. Lebowski is out of our lives. I can't imagine how one person comes so close in such a short span of time and then walks out like nothing ever happened. I don't have a problem with anyone leaving me, but doing that after losing your dignity and respect is disturbing.
While I was talking about the problems that this girl has created in the past three months for me and Cobain, esp him, there was a direct quote from me. "I have lost the friend in her and there is no way for fuck's sake that I would talk to her anymore."
"Your hands off approach is quite interesting Kirit," he remarked.
And I was left wondering that it is so important to speak directly to the world all the bloody time so that they "get it". That said, there is no chance Moonstruck would do that, ever. I love talking in read between the lines manner and enjoy it. Those wishing to get closer and discern the meaning, eventually end up doing that.
But this is not the point. The fact that I could let her, a friend, go away very easily without any fights or confrontations shows that I am no longer affected by people doing that to me. And it is such a relief. I am yet to get over my school nightmares and here I stand waving goodbye to Lebwoski when she does not even bother to look. I did my bit, Cobain did his bit till the end. But there is no ray of hope at all. And yes, I did feel bad for a long time, and as always didn't say it. Two days down the line, it is all normal for me. Popped a thought - Hope I haven't become a soul with an iron heart. That is what A also thinks at times and I ignore that. Ignore, because that is the only option.
Specimens like me have to grow with solitude, as it is then we start appreciating ourselves. Let it appear to the world that this one is heartless and chooses to keep his hands off. How does it matter? When it never mattered to them while we had our hands on!

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Psst.. Do you do Drugs?

PRE SCRIPT: If call centres didn't exist, there won't be any bad habits in the big bad city of Delhi. Once you are a BPO employee, there is every reason for you to get into drugs.

It so happened one evening (precisely two days back). I was enjoying the setting sun with Johnnie Walker giving me varied perspectives on life. Having worked for nearly 7 years now, it was time to look back to step onto the future. Anyway, that is abstract gibberish from Moonstruck which he indulges in all the bloody time. So, as the clock ticked, there was a call from an unidentified number - I don't like talking to unknown numbers as it gives me the feeling of not knowing them. It was Pallavi, a classmate from Amity, who was calling for the first time since we bid goodbye to that shithole of a college (circa 2004). She is the perfect example of a jobhopper (four jobs in three years is not my idea of working) and someone who completely lacks skills. No wonder she fits to a T when it comes to a "journalism" job. Pallavi asks me to give her some contacts who work in call centre and do drugs. Huh? The peg of the story is the other side of call centre lifestyle. Erratic schedules, performance, and dependency on cannabis and alcohol. What the fuck is that? "Kirit, see the lifestyles of these people is so haphazard that they end up inculcating all these wrong habits. And I need people who can say that 'yes I am in this line and am involved in all of this'." OK! I gladly deny that I don't have any such phone numbers. I added that yes a lot of guys chase and score but it is mostly ganja and charas, what you call cream in popular "cool" terms. "What is chase and score Kirit?" I was like, what the fuck do these guys do in terms of reporting when they don't know basic terms associated with their story. And she is not the only one. A reporter from my former newspaper did a story on Animation, courtesy his "source" Arena Multimedia. Here he says and please don't laugh:
"What happens when the lion roars thrice?

A Tom and Jerry cartoon starts off!"

I died laughing with dismay writ large over my face. Surface value shit totally pisses me off.
It is like a point that Jabberwock makes in his post on Calvin and Hobbes. But here this does not amuse anybody, certainly not the reader who will pass it off. Yet, the bosses are happy, the reporter is happy and well... Pallavi works with Business Today and if this is the story they are doing, man, now I can surely say, "Even god can't save journalism."

Post Script: Aanchal says "Kirit, we don't see things the way they are; we see them the way we are. And moonstruck just smiles.

Friday, June 08, 2007

And I wonder...

Three weeks back, I met this cute girl outside Morrison, who was a little too high, or so it seemed given her movements inside. She saw me seeing her and she gazed at me for a good 5 minutes before giving that 'Oh My GOD, it is YOU' look. I obviously ignored given I never get such expressions. Also in that place, I never look at anyone (last night I ignored Prithvi sitting right next to me, he didn't notice it, thank god). She then comes closer and goes 'Kirit bhaiyyya!'. Of all the things in the world a sexy girl can say to me, I get to hear this one. I was like ya it is me indeed who are you. I'm Pallavi, Vidyashram (my school), your junior, Meenal (my sister) didi's junior. No, it still does not ring a bell.
And then she looks at me with a HHMMPHH. OH, my god, Pallavi, the cute toddler?!? Of course bhaiyya. Man, this girl was one of my favourites in school, really beautiful and intelligent and not one of those bookworms. I had a joint in my hand and was smoking without realising that she was a munchkin. We sort of exchanged news, whats up and whats happening and where is didi kinds and then I was suddenly taken back. "Can I have a drag?" You mean, a joint. Of course... Hey just how old do you think you are pallavi. I am 20 and I guess I can have it, if you don't have a problem. You are 20??????? What is my age then?
Shit, it then dawned upon me that it has been 7 years since I left school. And soon, I will be older. These kids have grown up in front of me man, I mean it won't have happened so fast. What? Where, what the how the what the fuck, oh god!

And I wonder that sometime you really have to catch up with yesterday and be ready for tomorrow at the same time.

When I logged into Orkut today morning, there was a scrap by Aanchal Khurana. A senior who was repeating her 9th with us, I quite liked her for the cute, shy demeanour. I don't remember if I have ever liked a chubby girl. Actually, no, I haven't ever. Her neighbour Nitasha (Oh, how I hate her so much for turning her back on me after 10 years of friendship) was my classmate and a friend. The obvious questioning happened and before I could realise, everyone knew about it. I was like so embarrassed and being the reticent geek sort, there was this feeling of running away from everything. On the last day of our exams, this was few weeks down the line, she came up to me and was like Hey Kirit, how are you, heard that you wanted to talk to me. I was like yaaa, just normal chit chat. And then we said goodbye for the holidays and went away.
After that, the new standard and new talks. I wanted to talk to her but didn't know how, so asked Nitasha again. And the same routine, everyone was like, you wish to talk to Aanchal? Prachi (at that time, she was the hottest girl we had, or so the guys told me), her confidante came up to me and said talk to her naa.
There came a moment in the Interval that I broke down. There was so much confusion in my head, so many voices and then so much of embarrassment, that I was dying out of frustration. My friends did not know how to handle me, so Nitasha came up and offered to take me to her. I was like, No go away go away. Then Prachi came up and gave me a small letter. I was touched! And soon, Aanchal and I started talking.
One day, I said a hi and the response was cold, and came with that typical female arched-brow look. Fuck, what happened. Abhishek said, why did you say that Aanchal is really hot and that's why you wanted to know her and that is the reason why you liked her etc etc. What, I didn't say that. I mean back in school, Kirit Kiran was the last guy to mention something like that. I asked him, Prachi and Nitasha to help me, but Prachi was disappointed; the damage was done. I was glad to learn that Aanchal understood that I can not say something like that, come what may. But she chose to bury the friendship that was yet to start. I was obviously too pissed. She then wrote another letter saying what all she felt during this time and asked Prachi to hand it to me.
Feeling too bad about the whole thing and yes, I was also angry at her, the letter was tucked in one of the registers and well, apparently forgotten. Thereafter, we just exchanged hi and bye.
Cut to 2000 November, I was cleaning my room and throwing all the notes pertaining to the school times. And there were notes from Priyanka who still accuses me of ruining a great friendship, my only slam book replete with those meaningful 'love' remarks (and I still have it) , few of my writings and a letter - from Aanchal.
She told me about how bad she has felt about the whole thing and all that she wanted was me to come there and talk to her about it. Poor girl had lost her father quite early and that explained why she went into a shell and how she is so scared of people coming close to her. She wished that we could go ahead with the friendship, and that it is now my turn to talk to her.
I felt terribly bad, didn't know what to do and whom to talk. School was over and there was nothing left except memories. I couldn't discuss this with anyone either. I still feel so guilty for making the girl wait for an answer or some reaction except a mundane Hi. All this time, I thought why she did when she was thinking why didn't he come up with a reply.
And all those memories came back... I really hope and pray to God that I am given one chance to talk to the girl. I know it is not something which was that big, for me it is very important. I keep crying of people misunderstanding me all the time, and this girl wanted to hear my side of story. But I was not in the frame of mind to talk to her; that does not explain my not reading the letter.

And I wonder if language is our forte, what stops us to say the right thing at the right time. I wonder if Aanchal would see me again and talk to me. I may not get the friend back, but she would know the real thing... And one misunderstanding in this world would be cleared.

Chance meeting (Part 2)

When I was in college, there was a place, that was literally the butt of all my seniors' jokes, forbidden for us. They used to mention about a certain maal there who was so hot that waking up at 8 to see her was a sight you shouldn't miss. I saw her once and changed the illusion that it is only when they are in movies that they are hot.
She was really hot and had sharp features. With sharp I mean, Nicole Kidman sharp. The quintessential figurine of the Indian femme took shape in my head. The waist, perfectly shaped and sized bosom that could make any man have 'a ripple in his jeans' instantly(I thought this was some silly expression until I actually heard from Sassy that men do say that). Women of today have a problem, they have asses and they have asses; none of them can boast of the utterly sexy 'apple' derrière that made the women of 60s and early 70s gorgeous (think Claudia Cardinale, Sophia Loren et al). This is something that makes black and young punjabi women sexy, who somehow still carry it. And she had it. There was something about her eyes and I have been trying to define it since I was a sophomore, but still can't. In fact, her aura was so infectious that anyone just wanted to be with her. Since humans lack basic intelligence, the men thought the only was to have her was to do her. And it came at a price. Tilotama was elegant; she was like the Grace Kelly of the Jaipur lot of 'loose women'. I was disgusted when told the definition of a prostitute by a senior; the phrase in the previous sentence. I was like WHY?
When I told this to my mom, she said, "What's your problem? And what's your senior's problem that he calls her that? Don't you guys read the dictionary?" Mom, I sure did and it iterates the same. I remember the look on mother's face, she was disgraced at the mentality of the specie.
Anyway, I finally got a chance to meet Tilotama while I was waiting for one of my friends outside her house. She was coming from the market and saw me and then just smiled at me. I didn't know why and when I mentioned this to my friends, they were like, 'stay away dude. This is the easiest trap given we are so young'. No, I didn't think so.
Anyhow, the next encounter was when me and Abhinav were passing her house and the pervert recollected how she takes a nice bath and caresses herself at 8:30 pm. STOP and deflate the rear tyre. And that did happen. I was already feeling my thing hardening when suddenly she saw us. Abhinav ran away and I was like oh god, what the fuck, behnchod ruk; the scooter had the keys and my diary was inside the front cabinet. She came down and gave me the stern look that saw me peeing in the pants, not literally.
"Kya kar rahe ho yahaan?"
"Kuch nahee, woh tyre puncture ho gaya thaa (thank god it was fully deflated)"
I don't know and wasn't expecting it when she came closer and said "Koi baat nahee" with a smile. Seeing me sweat like anything, she offered me some thanda. I nodded.
Her drawing room exuded warmth and there was a specific incense purifying the air. Then the introduction part comes into play. "Itnee raat ko tum log loafergiri kar rahe ho (it was 9pm and in Jaipur, that is way too late), mummy papa kuch kehte nahee."
I told her that we were headed for home only. What caught my eye in the room was the five-star simplicity, the books, beads, colour codes and a nice geometrically stable pattern of architecture. It was getting way too uncomfortable given the time and place, but something was holding me back.
Anyhow, I bid her goodbye and left.
No one knew that I spent half an hour at her home, except the behn ka lund Abhinav and I made him promise that this does not go beyond the two of us.
A month down the line while a group of family friends were at Nahargarh fort, there she stood having beer with some foreigners. She saw, I saw and we both saw each other seeing. "Meet my little friend," she introduced me to her Belgian 'friends'. "You got some libido young turk! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA," those idiots remarked.
Chutiye saale!!!! (And I was giggling in my head) Tilotama too understood my expression.
We then went one day for coffee in a discreet cafe in Civil Lines, the only place where no one knew me and at a time when there won't be any one. I discovered this woman was from St Stephens when the lure of money forced her to drop her college. Not exactly a Delhi person, she carried all the traits of one, albeit the decent/classy ones. "Back then, I saw sleeping around or entertaining someone for a good amount was just so cool. Coming from a family where we used to save every paisa and live like paupers, it was a sudden fresh lease of life for me."
"So you started this when you were like 17/18?"
"Yes, 18. I had a friend who was into this and she along with her boyfriend was used to get clients from five star hotels and places like Ghungroo. Initially it was just hanging out with a nice, sexy female and then graduation happened."
At this, her eyes, that all this while were talking to my eyes directly, go down.
"I didn't know money fucks your brain this way. And to say that it is entirely money's fault is like the weakest excuse. I was enjoying it all through."
"And now?"
"I made this profession when I was discovered in one of these offices had I started going to. One of the clients of this famous ad agency, then the boss and the creative head, all had slept with me. You know, the so called repute. Jerks."
Then we changed the topic to travelling; I told her about ISKCON, Pushkar, Prajakta, my college, friends and etc etc. Books too were a common interest. It was like a good 3-hour 'date', as we then called it.
"Don't you feel odd sitting in front of me? In every sense."
"No, why should I?"
"Because you know who I am kid, that's why!"
"But I quite like you in a certain way and I don't really have an answer for this."
"(Smile) In a certain way? The flat tyre on Abhinav's scooter?"
"I think you are really hot and haven't come across one no sexy. Also, it is got nothing to do with your profession; I just seem comfortable."
"So I am hot! How many women have you been till now Kirit?"
"Great! 19 year old who has already had two girls in his life thinks I am the hottest thing and has no qualms about sitting across in an isolated coffee shop. Don't get me wrong, you are just a nice person who I guess wants to know new people. Keep that up.....(Pause)"

//////// A lot happened within this conversation that I for some reason wouldn't reproduce here. And it was all verbal, talks. I have a problem, I don't talk one person to another. I just cherish what happened at that moment inside my heart. This was one hell of a meeting as we discussed men, women, my bisexual desires, her encounters and funny men who didn't know how to put a condom on, how do I think she is hot etc etc./////////////

While leaving, I offered to drop her and she refused with a smile. Just gave me a hug, patted my cheek and left.
A week down the line, Abhinav told me about her being in trouble from the neighbours. When he told me the entire incident, I was so disgusted that I decided to see her immediately. There were three-four workers helping her pack things and Tilotama looked so tired. At first, she was like 'Why the fuck you are here' kind of a look. And she directed her servant to bring me some water and told me to find a place to sit. I sat down in the verandah's shade.
"They have told me that my effect would be bad on their children and husbands. Surprisingly the men were doing all the talking. Anyway, I am off to Bombay to stay with an old friend. I didn't say it but wanted you to come over and see for yourself the state of the affairs. (pause) Even though a randi does not harm anyone, she is panned by these people thinking she would always do it. You said I was infectious, I guess they didn't quite get it or got it really seriously." "I hope you are ok!" (What else could I have said?)
"No, you keep hoping I GET OK. I am off to another place and hope there aren't people like here. It is not their fault, Jaipur is a small city, people still have some values and prefer to follow lives like their ancestors. Kuch hai is shahar mein, in sab chhote shehron mein and I guess there was some disturbance in the equilibrium. So it is not really their fault."
Will I ever get to see you, I ask in my head.
"I don't think Kirit we will ever see each other again. But there is just one thing I wanted to tell you. Be the way you are, kind, friendly, not biased at all, tough gunda on the outside and soft like an ice cream inside. I hope the worldly things don't corrupt your brain or better still, you don't let them corrupt your brain. You may not find many fans, friends and well wishers, but there will be ones who will know you as a person and not what you look. Take care of that. My best wishes for your future. Make your parents proud, some people never understand this phrase at all. Instead, they choose to pollute everything they grew up with."
With this we got up and gave each other a tight hug.
She waved at me from her balcony as I with a confused look and a smile, went away to the railway track (this was one of the places I used to drink beer in solitude).
I never saw her again and will never.
What I don't get is the attitude of people towards women like Michelle and Tilotama. They are as ordinary as all of us. Their choice of vocation might differ but to each his own. And their profession is very short-lived. When I was driving back day before after spending time with Michelle, I wondered that they can also use a friend. I can, at any time, go to her place and hang out with Rashelle. Or I could just discuss men and women with Tilotama. We humans have everything for us, except moments of bonding with one another. And it is time we start doing it, regardless of what or how the fuck the other person does or lives like. Yes lostlittlegirrl, we fuck them and then fuck their names and lives as a society.
I just know that a friend who could have turned out to be a great friend, went away because of the people who she never touched and who never understood her.
But as I have always believed, Tilotama and I will cross each other again, some day.

People, please start living with love, throw the prejudices, bias, mindsets et al into the trash bin. Aditi always said, 'Every human deserves respect by the virtue of him/her being human/alive'.

Wandering Scribe is out

In case you guys don't know who is the wandering scribe, then you don't deserve to be on the blogosphere. Seriously. One of those who have been extensively read for the past one year now, she is someone who used to blog post her journalism career.
This is what her main blog has for an introduction:

Feb, 2006. For the past five months I have been living alone in a car at the edge of the woods — jobless and homeless and totally unable to find a way out of it. I can't sing, I can't dance, I can't scream loudly enough, alI I can do is write. So here I am laying down tracks...hopefully the start of an online paper trail out of here. (Started writing this blog-journal, at the beginning of February, 2006. So probably best to start reading, backwards, from there — in the Archives).

Then some time late, she struck a book deal. She mentions this on her other blog - Anya Peters.
And the book is finally out. It is called Abandoned and well I have to get my hands on it.
Check out her blogs in the links section.
Congratulations wandering scribe. You are a rare blogger albeit a good one.

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Chance meeting

I just came back from a short meet with a girl called Michelle. A North-Eastern, she resides in a suffocating pad in Munirka. If this blog was read by a dozen people, the mind would have immediately popped up an image, which we all know about. Yes, she is what the image says. And you may stop reading thereafter, if you have already passed the judgement.
So, anyway, Michelle and I were supposed to meet while I was in Goa and do it. Somehow, it didn't seem right and the timing was inappropriate anyhow. We kept in touch and if I tell the person who gave her number that I have been talking to her and did go to her house to see her, he would be shocked and straightaway call me a big chut. Like that would deter me.
Both of us just wanted to meet as it had been a real long time. As I wait for her to come out of her home, with a zillion thoughts running in my head, there she comes with a toddler beside her. I first think, that is some decoy, taking the kid out for a walk and have a tete-a-tete with me. She introduces me to the kid who is just sooooooooooooooo cute.
Rashelle is her daughter. I was like, hmmm, ok!
So we move up and settle in the matchbox the poor soul lives in. It is a small 12 feet by 10 feet room with a small kitchen. There are two six feet long mattresses with some teddy bears on it. A small cooler, tv, fridge and stereo make up for the gizmo part of it.
She was not trying to entice me in anyway; all she wanted was to meet this new stranger called Kirit that she had been talking on phone for some time. And there was no squirming. It was not the first time I was meeting someone who is in this profession. Michelle I learnt, through her friend and our talks, is a divorcee. She came to Delhi from Myanmar with her husband 5 years back to help him with the garment business. Soon, her beau met some interesting clients who took the man to Belgium. He anyway had lost interest in her and well left her, not without her daughter.
"Every Saturday is paycheck time," she said. "That is the reason I can't see you on weekends; work calling you see. I have her to feed and soon she has to go to school as well." Rashelle is all this while upto her antics that make me wonder about innocence. "Where is your father Rashelle?" asks Michelle. "Papa has gone to the market."
I did not know how to react.
Nor could I ask her anything more. Michelle did not study beyond 10th standard. And going by her species' choice of money-earning, it seemed the obvious choice for her to get into flesh trade. Now, she is labelled forever as the 'chinky'. I can not think, at all, what would Rashelle do or react when she grows up. It is clear that Michelle does not want her to get into this; she should be educated and be self-dependent is what I could gather. I want to meet the kid again, I have not seen a cuter kid in a long time. I taught her to do hi5, play akkad-bakkad and we had our share of laughs and all that. "Sexy guy," is what she says when she dances to SHakira's songs.
I was at a loss of words for... a lot of things.
Michelle reminded me of the encounter with Tillotama.
(To be continued)

All eyes on darfur

Michelle Nichols

Amnesty International started posting satellite images on the Internet of villages in Sudan's conflict-ravaged Darfur on Wednesday in a bid to pressure Khartoum to allow U.N. peacekeepers into the region.
The rights group invited people around the world to log on to, which will be updated regularly with new photographs, and help it monitor 12 vulnerable villages and put Khartoum on notice that these areas are being watched closely for signs of any further violence.
It also includes archived images that include some from the village of Donkey Dereis, which is shown in 2004 with hundreds of huts, but two years later had 1,171 homes gone and the landscape overgrown with vegetation.
More than 200,000 people have died and 2 million been driven from home since the conflict in western Sudan between ethnic African rebels and the government, backed by the Arab Janjaweed militia, began in 2003. Khartoum says 9,000 have died and rejects accusations of genocide.
Catch the full story over here

What the fuck is this?

Feathers fly as screaming peacocks die

Steven Morris
The Guardian

Some residents called it parade time. A group of preening peacocks would strut up the middle of Harbourne Avenue, drawing admiring stares and bringing traffic to a halt. Half an hour later, the birds would saunter back to their home in Paignton zoo.

But not on Tuesday. To the horror of many local people, the concern of animal activists and the despair of zookeepers, seven male peacocks were culled by the zoo after one neighbour complained that the spectacular birds were a noisy nuisance.

The Devon zoo argued that it had no choice after the neighbour took his fight to the local council and threatened legal action, claiming the peacocks, which make themselves noticed at this time of year with a piercing screech, were ruining his sleep and causing havoc in his garden.

Although 100 of the birds have roamed free in the zoo's grounds and the adjoining streets for the last 80 years, seven males which had developed a particular fondness for nearby Harbourne Avenue were put down on Monday.

Residents queued up to express their concern. Derek Gresham, who lives on Harbourne Avenue, said: "What are they going to do when someone complains about the lions? You can hear them roar in the quiet of the night. Or when someone moans about the monkeys, which do jabber at feeding time? Will they have to kill them as well?"

Gresham said he and his neighbours stopped what they were doing and watched when the "peacock parade" went past. " It's one of the joys of living here."

Susan Legassick, who also lives in Harbourne Avenue, said: "The zoo is supposed to be protecting the animals, not killing them. They would come into my garden and I would give them sunflower seeds and bread. They are such beautiful creatures. I'm horrified at what as happened."

Colin Bath, curator of birds at the zoo, was also deeply upset, not least because one of the birds culled, Arnie (named after Arnold Schwarzenegger), used to spend a lot of time beneath his office window. "He did make a row. But I would never have wished him harm."

Bath said he had to deal with a lot of confused female birds, which could not understand where the males had gone. The birds only called out for five or six weeks at this time of year to attract hens and remained quiet for the rest of the time.

Catch the full story over here.

MOONSTRUCK: This is preposterous man!

soul scattered; time for a rebirth

I came across an ideology recently, while going through one of my old ISKCON books. It suddenly dawned on me that a couple of my stories are missing. Jenny, in a proper diary form, happened much later. Prior to that, any piece of paper would end up being scribbled upon. So as I frantically looked for those pieces of my heart, written during acid trips and likewise (one of them was written just after I had it with Beth on the desert; wonder what trip I was on that after one of the most amazing sessions, there was a pen in my hand) , the eyes fell on this neat packet of books tucked in a corner. Ah! The glorious days knocked softly on my head again. Amidst this collection, shyly placed was one of those I had bought but could never really read it, or could not comprehend what it said. So last night, it was time to do the needful.

Man takes birth in stages. There is a gradual evolution of the human soul as he is first conceived from the cell. The first is that of the animal — the uncivilised, raucous body — that behaves like an ill mannered, unhygienic soul. This has got nothing to do with love for animals for if we notice those dwelling in slums, it is true. I once spent three days in a slum and was uncomfortable from morning to night. They live in that place as if it is heaven and don't wish to improve themselves. The one who desire, end up in the second stage - the suppressed, hard working man. All his life he toils, blood and sweat literally (think of the usual autowallah) to earn his daily bread and butter. At the end of it, he gets to be the one always pressed under a system he is mostly oblivious of. (I am trying to talk concisely; every sentence follows my read between the lines and more than one meaning styles. So pay attention.) Then comes a transition, when the man makes a leap. His constant motivation is the drive to move ahead in life and rise above circumstances, come what may. The book says that here, it must not be confused with the seeker. This stage might see the soul committing crimes, going into directions that will leave the society and those he harms, directly or indirectly, disgraced. The best reaction that he would give will be nonchalance. For he is doing his job, what takes him higher while feeding his family. The mortal is not granted intelligence.
Ergo, when he moves on to the next level, there are more woes and worries than joyous moments. The reason, as the scholar puts it, is that he has been sent in the new avatar with intellect, power of the brain. This is called the Seeker, that bears a slight resemblance to the Hermit in tarots. The human has the power to shake the world, for it is now he understands balance, power, pros and cons. It is this stage where the recognition of the emotional self occurs making a better person day by day. He seeks knowledge and respects the term 'human'. He discovers that every karma has a consequence that he must face and the Almighty has indeed granted him the courage to do so. Every word has a meaning, so choose your words carefully. And so and so forth.
There, my mind stopped and went in flashback. I recollected a certain guru who once told my mother that Kirit, come what may, will never be stagnant. He is a soul on run, the one who only looks out for new avenues of learning. There will be a time when he would be in a state of confusion to the extent that he will shut himself from the world. If you want him to go right, he'll go left. One of his biggest strengths and problems is the habit of argument and the disgust for mediocrity. For he argues the correct thing and he would always seek a higher pedestal each time he climbs a new one, it would be all the more tough for him.
In between, I was practicing my tarot routine when a new card came out - The breakthrough. And gradually, it all fell in place. Now I am just another scattered soul trying to rebuild my strengths one by one. Enough is enough; it does not matter whether I'm successful or not because that is not me. I have never done things keeping the objective in mind. Whether it were the fights, my adventures, writings, craving of work, none of it was determined by the goal. The past tells me that I have been everything that I wished to be before 25, well almost. And the species don't share even half of it. I am pleased.
So lostlittlegirrl, Sassy, I shall raise a new toast, this time to the coming years that will see a new period of the good times. I don't know if it would exactly be the breakthrough but moonstruck is in for his third rebirth. Want to join? You are always welcome. Rum and chocolates!!!

Monday, June 04, 2007


The cool blogs I discovered this week
1. Blues over troubled waters
2. Circles in the sand
3. Shutterbug Blues

Check em out, I love the second the most.

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

are you gay Mr?

What an oxymoron in the first place? Bumping into someone who has perceptions about sexuality and is riddled with gender conflicts in his/her head annoys me a lot. Those who don't know how to react are easy to handle. Actually they need no handling as for them, it is a matter of lack of knowledge and not presence of judgemental confusion.
India is a country where the culture is based on suffering and passive reception, unlike its McDonald counterpart that is merely focussed on indulgence. Hence forth, there exists a lack of confusion in their heads as compared to ours. After being ruled by several dynasties, we the people have now become more used to the purdah system that veils our brains. So a eunuch, who incidentally originated from 'Bharat', has been reduced to a capsule of laughter (read mockery). And today for displaying feminine traits of any kind, I (along with some people I know) too am relegated to that bracket.
But this is like talking to people like Varun, Reeti and Bhaskar and few who feature on my list and are genuine humans (Sassy, Simmi, lostlittlegirrl etc) who can actually understand what I am talking about. Not to people who exist on blogosphere to discuss... well nothing in particular.
Moonstruck comes out with an entry after this long a time and talks something on sexuality. With, of course, the focus being on homosexuality.
The reason why this hiatus — A gap or interruption in space, time, or continuity; a break — was so long can be blamed on my hands-off approach as Varun puts it. For anyone who has known me even an inch can speak of, without a doubt, my affectionate involvement with those who are around and close to me. After so many failed relationships — this includes the failed one too — and this implies every sort/type/kind, it seems that the best way to deal with the world is the two-face syndrome. As long as you are involved, they don't care; when you aren't they still don't care. Because no matter how hard you try, hardly anyone will make an effort to know you for what you are. And rely on perceptions that they have been taught from the already paralysed society or they somehow fit the wrong pieces in the jigsaw puzzle that some devious kinds convince them to do so. So who is to be blamed?
THE SELF! It is the one inside who has a problem you see and not the others. I used to think this voice speaks from within. Then one day, it dawned upon me that this too is a bracket that you will be slotted in, if you don't stop being a 'dick'. Ahan, some logic that is!
So, the point is that you are better off keeping a mask (it is indeed honest and not far from reality; it just shields the innermost emotions from the outside) on and than being what you really are within yourself. All this time, moonstruck has gone back to his seeker days trying to come to terms with facts (I hate this word in any reference) of the world. That he mustn't be connected and that he can never be connected. One of those in the inner circle says that if you don't let people know you or get close to you, how will they ever learn? I say girl, I drop subtle hints for those who are close, and are sincerely making all the efforts to understand me, to come in close proximity. Also, I was, am and always will be an open book; you need the right eyesight.
And above all, who am I to help it when they already come with an 'image'.

So, when someone asks me 'Are you gay Mr?', all I do is smile and carry forward the conversation without saying a yes or no. The reason that prompted him/her were
1. Me applying a strawberry lip balm
2. Caring for my nice hair
3. Being sensitive in every sense


I hope someone knows about my past identity - wolverine, the street fighter. What was I doing a catfight?
I hope this blogging season goes a longer mile than the others.

Monday, April 30, 2007

lunatic chaos

This is one of those times when my hands dont listen to my brain. The nerve cells are really desperate to explode. This is one of those times when there seems no solution to anything. The problem with being a moonstruck maniac is the troubling absence of someone who would lend an ear, if not a... It also implies the lone warrior's fight against the demons. If I am living, why am I alive? This is one of those times when I am just not in the right frame of mind.

Monday, April 23, 2007

How to talk to girls at parties

“Come on,” said Vic. “It’ll be great.”

“No, it won’t,” I said, although I’d lost this fight hours ago, and I knew it.

“It’ll be brilliant,” said Vic, for the hundredth time. “Girls! Girls! Girls!” He grinned with white teeth.

We both attended an all- boys’ school in south London. While it would be a lie to say that we had no experience with girls—Vic seemed to have had many girlfriends, while I had kissed three of my sister’s friends—it would, I think, be perfectly true to say that we both chiefly spoke to, interacted with, and only truly understood, other boys. Well, I did, anyway. It’s hard to speak for someone else, and I’ve not seen Vic for thirty years. I’m not sure that I would know what to say to him now if I did.

We were walking the backstreets that used to twine in a grimy maze behind East Croydon station—a friend had told Vic about a party, and Vic was determined to go whether I liked it or not, and I didn’t. But my parents were away that week at a conference, and I was Vic’s guest at his house, so I was trailing along beside him.

“It’ll be the same as it always is,” I said. “After an hour you’ll be off somewhere snogging the prettiest girl at the party, and I’ll be in the kitchen listening to somebody’s mum going on about politics or poetry or something.”

“You just have to talk to them,” he said. “I think it’s probably that road at the end here.” He gestured cheerfully, swinging the bag with the bottle in it.

“Don’t you know?”

“Alison gave me directions and I wrote them on a bit of paper, but I left it on the hall table. S’okay. I can find it.”

To read Neil Gaiman's full story click here
Picture credit whistlercornucopia

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

from where it all began

At times, there is this feeling inside me that I should speak no more and sit quietly beside the drug peddler and view the world as it stands still. The drug peddler has been an old friend with whom I have shared all the points of view. A man of my height, very lean, always unkempt and looks at me with the expression of 'Art is Fart'. He is the artist who has not only been suppressed by the system and his idiosyncrasy but the lack of money and freedom of expression. In his heydays, this man was known as a great thinker who knew the power of ideas and respected the same in others. His non-chalance towards corruption and the bourgeois and a strong sense of self-belief attracted me without any curiosity. Soon, I learnt to be free with him and there was a sense of camaraderie that we both enjoyed. Our discussions and frequent trips down the rabbit hole always left me exhilarated.

They still do, except that the peddler has forgotten to speak and his eyes only share the emotion, in parts. A lot of questions emerge from this unnerving silence that in turn, stems from a passive reception of the worldly events. I set out to discover the man's past and what makes him the recluse today. As the story unfolded, I learnt that with time, he became a very social animal. The one that managed the two-face syndrome brilliantly. The internal scare of getting intimate with anyone from his species kept him a little awake during discourses of the heart. He enjoyed every moment around, and made efforts so that everyone around him feels the same. His humour oscillated between slapstick to a roadside variety of tongue-in-cheek. For he had envisaged the lunacy that had dawned upon him and how he must keep it alive in order to be one among them. He didn't want them to even try and understand his brand of humour, as it was just so good.
Few saw it as a desperate attempt, others dismissed it as a mask that — though he kept it on immaculately — should be ripped off sooner or later. All this while, peddler argued that he is just being a normal person and that he is not the only one wearing these masks. If he can not be frank with A, and pour the heart out to B, he would have different two faces that is not a deliberate action but pure instinct. But soon, things changed.
He avoided digressions which were imposed on him, ignored anyone who made a face at him for being a wannabe and stayed away from people that he felt would never provide an enjoyable company. He had forgiven those who had left him scarred for life, despite knowing that he would never get over it and 'move on'. There was always a tear of happiness in his eye while present at those eves' weddings who were once a part of him and with whom he had great times. Somehow, this man could never think ill of anyone. He respected others' spaces while his was trampled on; he promptly moved somewhere else.
I could have carried the dis
covery forward but my heart stopped my feet. For there was this rage inside me that wanted to do something for him. That is an ordinary human being, who is exercising his brain to become extraordinary or different, without harming anyone else. In a world where ideas are the by-product of a capitalist-driven society, he sought to free the mind. And he did, he succeeded in doing so vis-à-vis himself. But then, he was told to go sit in a corner and fret and fume if he wishes to. He gladly went away for even his confidantes had deserted him.

Some time later, what he challenged in terms of societal norms, traditions and hollow ideals, came in a new form in front of him. “Kirit, do you believe that the man in front of you actually wishes to do what he is doing? Look at the poor soul, a mind driven by the gloss of his car, a character that comes out of his clothes, eyes that are no longer allowed to speak the language of the heart and intelligence that has been beaten to death. He accepts what the fuckin’ American bastard tells him. He thinks fame is a make-up kit that enables him to appear in front of the crowd. As a kid, he would have tried to fight these silly thoughts, but soon the demons took over. He, his friends and family, the ones around him, all of them are now slaves, of pigs who determine the fate. They walk like zombies, do their work as if they have been programmed to do, react a certain way and accept in only one. What do you think should happen to mankind?”

Kirit: I can’t make out the sense, given that I am one of them. Since childhood, I have been driven there but now I try to make a conscious effort to get out of it and work towards myself. There is a strong urge inside that tells me to discover…. Life, knowledge…. To test myself and understand the power of courage.

As I look bewildered, the peddler gets up and gives me a tight hug. “Let Luna bestow upon you emotions, the tide shall be your ship, the sea, in its various forms, shall teach you the meanings, take you to destinations known and unknown, you will have to fight the monsters and overcome them, and with a dedicated effort you will. You will excite your mind and impulse, which will push your intelligence to its maximum creative power. A maniacal rage will decide the course, which will make your anger uncontrollable and crazy – there will be a new side to you. Remember, never to let go of the light in the sky. That is your mirror, your guide, best friend. And as long as these two souls work in sync, words will flow that will influence the ones present and the ones to come.”

With this the peddler vanished, and soon I realised one of my alter egos entered me, forever.

Moonstruck Maniac was born shortly thereafter.

POST SCRIPT: The drug peddler is one of the various characters I imagine. It could be from me, or a totally different entity. In reality, he is Siddhartha, a man I met on one of these cycle-trips in Khajuraho. A looney, he was blind too, who used to sing praises outside the Kandarya Mahadeva Temple. I saw him in the morning, afternoon, and till the late evening. When I asked him what brought him here, he said that the world turned away from him. And he, a man driven by emotions, surrendered to God in the land of the moon’s daughter. (Khajuraho was the kingdom of Chandela kings who, as per the legend, were moon’s daughter’s children)

But isn’t it difficult being blind and not getting anything in life when we still have time. “Jiske dil mein bhakti ka chirag jal raha ho, voh kabhi andha nahee ho sakta. Maybe, I committed sins in the past lives and this is my penance. I sing bhakti songs from the old ages and no body realises that these are authentic devotion songs. I don’t feel bad, as it is something not even worth ignoring. Find knowledge Kirit, for it will give you nirvana. Work your brain, because then you will write your destiny. Let emotions rule you, and not the head, because that will spoil you. Chaand kee dheemi roshni mein jo chamke usse hum sitara kehte hain. Be that or just gaze at the moon, it is hypnotic.”

In one of my daydreams, I imagined him to be a character in the story above. And now you know the origin of the name and the person inside me.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

I don't I don't I don't.....

Whenever there is a happy thought ringing aloud in my head, there are a dozen bad ones to spoil the bliss. I call it sheer bad luck. Maybe that is some consolation. Today's episode of Friends (I am on rediscovery of sorts) had a great small scene. The thing with these sitcoms is that humour, or a strong emotion comes in the lightest way and with the least dialogues. The former is anyway a commodity outrightly rare these days. We thrive mostly on slapstick one liners that make us laugh. The key word here is mockery. But that is not the point in talks here.

Monica had a small 'bachelorette' party without telling CHandler and when Phoebe finally blurts it out, the married man is in a fix. He didn't have one as they had mutually agreed on the idiocy of such things. So, to make it up, she decides to throw him a bachelor party. Some goof up happens and a hooker lands at their pad. Welcoming are the surprised ex-roomies, Joey and CHandler. Totally flummoxed, they decide to toss their old ways and J remarks how he misses all of this. And in less than 1 minute, the viewer learns that these two buddies miss out on each other a lot and finally decide to work out a plan to hang out more often. "I am really happy for you but it is just that things have changed and that you are married and we dont get to do those things that we once did," says JOey.

I then visit Saumya's profile on orkut and discover that an old friend of hers (married) has contacted her. I somehow can't come to terms with this fact of life where I would lose all my friends to the 'institution' called marriage.

I am not against it; I am against myself getting married. Things have changed in the past few years and no longer do we marry at the 'prescribed' age, well not all of us. But in the next five or six years, I would have all couples around me. THis freaks me out.

The happy thought was about my Goa trip where I would be catching up with my graduation buddies, who are dying to see each other. Those days, we didn't care what the world was like. Today all of us, with the exception of me, are busy with their respective tech jobs. It feels so great just to hear their voice, even if it is once a month. And then.....

Let's see, in the coming future, all my good friends would have tied the knot. Marriage is a wonderful thing. It is a whole new world all together, the reason for our existence and the cradle of life in one way. There were times when you were totally reckless and didnt give a shit to anything and now you have got to be responsible. THe days of the college, hang out trips etc etc was one phase, marriage marks a new one, where I think, we evolve. And that is the mantra of life, to live every phase happily. You can't deny the movement of the species, the code of the civilisation because it is beautiful. The first anniversary, the first big buy, creating a home out of a house, the child, the various emotions that are brought into your life and you realise that hey, this is also good.

And I think everyone should do it.
Everyone, but ME!

I find it hard; from what I have seen of these coupledoms and a troubled childhood that was spoilt by time majorly, it is not a great picture before me. Asif, Prachir, Vivek, Sid, Pankaj, Shaile, Noopur, Namee, Prachi, Rohit, Varun (this is another sample like me, i dont know if he would marry ever), Sidhartha, Lavanya, Ankur, Roman, Garima, Shivani, Ashima, Susmita, AKshay, A, etc etc etc all of these would have been happily married by the time I am 30.
Varun can actually be excluded because I dont know, he doesnt know and no one knows. My closest buddy Kris and I would be left looking everywhere. I dont know about his views on marriage but being die-hard romantics, I really hope the two of us find someone to love. He would settle down and look for a new morning, where as I would be left denying the very idea of it. And this whole thing would leave me alone. OH, there would be Reeti, but I hope she gets a guy. She is such a sweetheart!

There would be no more 'just chilling out' times. There would always be a second thought before calling up and askin', 'hey, where it is tonight man!' SUndays would be different, and ditto about the saturdays. (Why didn't I say weekends?) A good night out will carry the title 'Wife vacationing, guys night out, bring more beers. BURRRRRRRRRRPPPP'. Then every get-to-gather time would have to be planned in advance. Plan and me???? You could no longer eye some nice asses, well not in the presence of the wives or husbands, given they would always be present. And as the 'hangout time' gets over, everyone would retreat to their double beds.
And I?
I love the morning discussions with momma. She is the only woman on the planet who has the patience to listen to me and go on talking for hours. One such talk had me telling her that I am so scared of marriage and the perils associated with it that it makes me deliberately throw it out of my life. Even though I would love to be in that position, I dont want to be. ANd that I would rather be with her and work within our NGO, the ranch and our aashram, all throughout my life. As I see my cousins knocked out one by one, there would never be a feeling inside me to embrace the same. She knows the exact root of this fear inside me and what makes me a confused sample regarding such things. I am not commitment-phobic at all. This is just a scary situation, thats it. I don't shirk off responsiblities but this whole ordeal is too painful, in some way.
I hope I make the most of my Goa trip and lose my nerves at the Big Chill. Who knows when do we get to see each other next, while we are still single? Prachir would marry in the next two years most definitely. And then another, another and soon the frame of the picture would be made double. Pata nahee meraaa kya hogaa life mein? And what the fuck am I going to do?
Here, I am still confused about my life when others are busy walking up the ladder in their respective profiles. I dont know whether this course is going to see me settling down in some way (this paves way for the next post). So much to say, so much to do, so much to say......

Birds Do It. Bees Do It. People Seek the Keys to It.

Sexual desire. The phrase alone holds such loaded, voluptuous power that the mere expression of it sounds like a come-on — a little pungent, a little smutty, a little comical and possibly indictable.

Everybody with a pair of currently or formerly active gonads knows about sexual desire. It is a near-universal experience, the invisible clause on one’s birth certificate stipulating that one will, upon reaching maturity, feel the urge to engage in activities often associated with the issuance of more birth certificates.

Yet universal does not mean uniform, and the definitions of sexual desire can be as quirky and personalized as the very chromosomal combinations that sexual reproduction will yield. Ask an assortment of men and women, “What is sexual desire, and how do you know you’re feeling it?” and after some initial embarrassed mutterings and demands for anonymity, they answer as follows:

“There’s a little bit of adrenaline, a puffing of the chest, a bit of anticipatory tongue motion,” said a divorced lawyer in his late 40s.

To read the complete story, log onto

Sunday, April 08, 2007

A rum here, a riddle there, a tarot in between.. moonie is confused

The past two weekends were inarguably the best I have had in a long time. Last Saturday, we were toying with the idea of going to Gurgaon, while waiting for Baldy Pandey in Stones. This was midnight, and only a bunch of weirdos, all tired and a little high can to go to Buzz. Kanishka, Cobain, Big Lavanyas and moi were pissed that we can not decide, can't imagine why.
Anyhow, off to Buzz in my ramshackled Mercedes.
A slight problem from the cops forced us to move out of the joint at around 2, which is not the time by which we all would have been drunk. So, what to do? A freckle-face friend of Kanishka suggests that Mojos is where we all should be headed to. Ok! Off to Mojos only to be thrown out in half an hour. Considerably high, we decide to pass some time in the corridors of the mall cracking some odd jokes at Lavanya like always. Suddenly Varun notices that the bouncer is calling all of us inside again. YIPPPEEE, more alcohol. It is a feeling beyond any rationale - fresh drops of rum sotthing a thirsty throat and giving the desired power for a little hipshakin' mayynnn!!!
This was one of those rare nights, where even after 12 pegs down, there was a mild high and we were raring to gulp down more. Oh god, such madness it turned out as we all were dancing in four different directions. Not to mention the original Dickso Dancer Abhijeet and Bladdy Dericks with his ex. On the way back, Kanishka decided it is time for him to sing as my car doesn't have an audio system. 'When I saw, I got this feel darling, Love is such a looney thing!' WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT DUDE? Oh senors and senorita, that is Tujhe Dekha to ye jaanaa sanam from DDLJ in English. Get the fuck out bozo, stop fucking our heads.
Anyway, at the end of it and on the following Sunday, there was a happy thought inside that said, well done dude, no hangover tomorrow. And in reality, there wasn't. I was feeling so tired from all the 'booty-moving', which ended the prospect of a nice time with Garima. Poor girl, I had promised to see her for nice sunday lunch time coffee. There were reasons for her to be pissed and I being the person I am, resigned from the situation not even bothering to call her. Thankfully in the next two days, things improved between the two of us.

During this time, there came a call from my boss. He wanted me to speak with the Second Top Boss regarding a promotion and transfer to the Metro desk. Now that is something lucrative. It is a new challenge for me, a place where I can't predict myself. Today I am on world, next stop India then Business, anything under the sun for me. But I have a problem.

I may come across as someone who will never give a flying fuck to the old school thoughts; in reality that is what makes me the man I am. When I entered HT Next, I had promised myself that I would devote two full years to this place. Promotion or no promotion, and I have done that. I don't know what the future holds for me, and that bothers me regarding this.
People have been saying that 'Alright Kirit, you are going away for studies and that you only have four months. Just think that you'd be going there at a higher position than this'. Well said, my close people, but I only got 4 months. That is it. By the time I get in the groove, it will be time for me to resign. I cant do that man, I dont like doing that.

And I am standing on this superdark road that leads to some place, I cant decode the destination. My tarot card reader said that Kirit, learn to be focussed in life, even though you hate it. My rising star is Neptune, and in accordance with astrology this dude is apparently headless. Needless to speak the reason for not having a focus or whatever shit that means.
I had to tell TSB about this and I had given a go-ahead for the same, then Yashwant talked to me and I said the same thing to him as well. But now the confusion is really getting to my nerves and the only reason I see this as a good opportunity is because I feel this to be a testing ground. But 4 months man, 4 months.

So, I gather all the courage and come to office on a SAturday. Oh before that, I was happy to see two stories of mine in the Saturday edition. This is a good thing, given the hollow elitism in newspapers that tries to dwarf people like me. As I inform Vipul, my boss, about this whole thing, there is a thought ringing in my head - do you think what you are doing is right? IGNORED!!!! Vipul is of the opinion that I should make my stand clear to all the bosses before advancing. And that it is not that wrong if I were to leave them in this small a time.
FIne I am waiting for this to happen.

After the talks, it is time for a play. Dario Fo's 'Cant Pay, Wont Pay' would be performed at IHC and I ask my colleague Aparajita if she is interested. She jumps on the offer and is like raring to go. We reach, a little late but right in time, and are so bloody disappointed man. This was like such a loose play and the adaptation was not done properly. So we left and wasted some 100 bucks, which is well ok.
Varun calls me to inform that Mona, Ankur's girlfriend has invited us for 'dinner'. I was in my worst attire and together with Varun, it looks like two hippies just walked in. Anyway, me in the crumpled shirt and him in chappals drive down through the crazy traffic to make it in time for Mona's place.
The first thing I noticed as we walked in was that all the girls were wearing black. 'Was there a dress code' I ask. No! The first person I am introduced is with a girl who.. well was his wife and that was evident in her wrist accessories. Some chudas as they call it in punjabi. It was so funny to catch her reaction as she took a good look at both of us. Before I could ask, pat she introduced by saying 'I am his wife'. OKKKK!!!
There was Mona, looking sweet like always, Ankur, looking.. well.. the same.., his sister who looks just like him, Cheryl and Smita, who are from Nigeria originally but Indians at heart and this couple. Oh, there was this engineer too who was quiet reserved. But I liked his company. I must admit, this house is just so comfortable and simple. It is not flashy, like any other girls' house but neatly done. There is a landscape picture of the Pushkar sarovar shot in four frames in sepia tinge. In the corner under this filmstrip are two small bookshelves (put on the floor) in worm style and really add to the shade of yellow on the walls. The living room is big and has seating arrangement in the form of cushions and one beanbag. Colours are bright but in dark shades. There is a dark red, orange and a green one too. In the balcony, there are few plants that are well maintained and see the world of in a parabola. The image of the horizon is constructed partly by the curve in the balcony railing. It looks beautiful and the eighth floor takes care of the air circulation. The kitchen is simple with woodwork all around that is well sorted out and in right dimensions. On the entrance there is a buddhist Om Mani Padme Hum. Oh I forgot, the cute picture of the couple beside the mattress and under the lamp that shows us the Ankur with short hair. Varun and I just burst out laughing coz we have never seeen this guy in a crew cut mop. Food was nice and tasty, catering to the veggies and carnivores alike. I had little of it as first we had drinks and then more drinks.

Everyone seemed comfortable with each other, and this was despite the reason that not all of us were acquainted with everyone else. First stop – a joint that was rolled by Cobain that surprised a lot of people. These two nigerians were like what is this all about and the married girl looked shocked and tried hard not to react. We learnt how the Nigerians talk English through Cheryl's wonderful impersonation. Now, once there was comfort all around, it was time for some boogie!

Cheryl is a wonderful salsa dancer and she showed her moves that.. well.. looked really sexy in a couple of parts. Since no one else was on the floor, Mona, the host performed a song that they once had few years ago. Then Smita with Cheryl and a song that I dont like – Scatman. But the moves were nice.
Finally everyone is like Kirit, Kirit, Kirit. Varun thinks I am a mad dancer and he repeatedly announced that. So it was down to Cheryl, who is great at belly dancing too and moi who was taught Salsa steps with comfort and ease. Then everyone got into the groove and Ankur, me, Varun started jiving on Sexy Eyes, an old AIESEC jive. It was so fuckin hilarious but enjoyable.
Finally it was me and Cheryl on Chaiyya Chaiyya. I was a little too hesitant and the drunk Smita on hammock was pushing me like anything to get there and tell her the steps. Fuck Man, I was so surprised that I knew all the steps. Did I do it well or not, I don't know, the point was it was enjoyment to the core. Last but not the least, the entire group on Kajrare Re. I hate that song too, but what the heck, it is party time.
Soon, we realised that all of us are too tired to even finish our drinks and everyone is looking at me and varun saying "when the fuck will these two junkies get out!" We drove out like mad assholes and dude was really scared because of my driving.
Next day he announces that come what may, he is not sitting with me in the car when I am drunk. I realised this much later when there was no memory of what happened last night after Kajra re. He He!
Lavanya greeted me on Sunday morning. Fresh from her Turkey vacation, she was all eager to show me the Kaftan she got for me. Yay, I now also have a turkish attire.

So back here on Monday night, as I type this, there are happy memories, including the ones I dont remember but my friends do, anticipation for future and a dull present day.
Since I can not be promoted given the confusion, there is a chance that I will move to Metro certainly. And if by some chance, I hope it doesn't happen, I dont get the admission, the promotion and hike is ready in my name. I thank Mona for calling me to a beautiful house party, I loved meeting new people that were so different and embraced my presence and a great night out that left us all smiling. Well, at least I am smiling.