Inquisitor

trip-o-caffeine

2010-09-22T01:53:00.000-07:00

It has been time no. When was it... 2005?

No 2004 actually.

And it is all starting again with the same place?

Well, one could say that. I am not too sure of the dates though but yeah it might just end up there.

Moonie is back. :)

Possibly. It is more like moonie is back in his shell. And there is another face.

That is the way. ... So, you were all quiet on Saturday night while walking a long distance.

I wasn't tired.

Who is talking about that? It is not the first time. We did not have a joint. That was the only wrong thing.

I did not need one. Not on that night.

Did you get to say everything?

I guess. But you know how love is. There is always space for more.

Hurt you are not anymore. Right?

Yes. I am probably just sad.

Pain is inevitable, suffering optional. You won't come out soon now. That's good. We'll get to spend some more time. You often get lost though. I guess that comes as a package deal with you.

I am high on caffeine right now. It is so energetic and weird. Triple shot.

We're drinking in the evening again, right?

Yeah yeah.

Let's keep it simple, real slow and low. Let's not move that fast. Especially now when you have found your empty space. I'm there anyway. You are doing good. That's how it should be with the man of numerous faces.

I am hoping it all sorts out. I will get to spend a lot of time alone. Which is good. And yeah. I'll be high. And a li'l fucked.

Proper fucked.

LOL!

Ego (t)rip

2009-12-05T01:52:00.000-08:00

Oh you know the thing about chaos. It is there.

Often my mind wanders from one object of interest to another, and I do not have an explanation for it. It almost seems as if there is something telling me to do it and I know it is not temptation. It is like the parallel track you keep hearing in the background on a consistent basis. But you know the thing is that it is kind of clever. This voice. It seems enamouring, sort of like a soft cloud but you know what is behind might definitely not find a like in you.

But it exists.

I am sort of living in this trance… it almost appears like an extension of my megalomania. I do not know if it is moving anywhere apart from where it is. Is my problem the presence of such large reservoirs of knowledge or the sheer imagination of it? I wish I knew nothing. Oh but then, what do you know?

Lost in a roman, wilderness of pain, and all of them are insane. I feel very punkish at times, like one of 'em blokes you see swaggering on the street puffing away those biceps without any direction. I just love the jackets this specie wears, all the time. Oh, and yeah, the clothes, I love those as well.

Try doing this sometime, run without any knowledge of destination or reason. Just freely and keep smiling. It is like this moment you learn that at times, we stop ourselves from loads of shyte that we are capable of and were we to be running, there is simply no stopping us. And the world still won't care.
You know it came here before all of us.

I like to intimidate people at times by simply staring at them. They say I have a bad, hypnotic stare. Then there are those as well who find my stare "piercing with soft bristles, like toothbrush". (!!!) Anyway...
It is super cool when you do that to a woman who has some skin and courage to show. Should you be fortunate enough, some panache as well, and those are oh so good to look at. That is if you are not one of those horny desperados waiting to ejaculate. I mean this is some sensible thing I am trying to talk. So give a nice hint or preview of that look, and then catch those moments where I stare. It doubles up as a basic litmus test as well.

I have started wearing red shoes. I never thought I would but we can compliment each other. I don't how.
It is funny that my girl's PG friends used to think I am gay. No it is not. I just can't help it now, can I?
Love will someday tear me apart, I know it. It has been written for me.

Singin' ol' blues

2009-07-06T14:26:00.000-07:00

You know the day destroys the night, the night divides the day...

That's a first.

We chased our pleasures here, dug out treasures there.

Ok what are you on?

Have you ever felt the winds of change not working in your favour in the sense you wish to go against them?

It is not a healthy exercise, I reckon.

Yeah, I realised that few minutes back. I am not sure if I am ready to accept this and walk back to where I came from. It seems a lot scary now than ever. And that is not one of the reasons I wish to oppose the times, which are changing. What if...

You fail, miserably.

Yes.

Well, then there might not exactly be a danger you see. There are a lot better things there than here. Then again, you may wish to argue the contrary. The point is, what does the contradiction leads to as what might comprise a better life.

Have I failed you?

You'll never fail me as long as you keep me separate from yourself, which we both know, is not the truth. :) Otherwise punch this mirror right away and stop living like us. They'll be happy to hear that.

I had a wet dream, about her. It was surreal. And wow.

Were you listening to Bear Melt? Was it good? Is she still that fat?

Don't you say that? That's just fucking rude.

Oh, I am sorry. (Whatever)

There was a funny scene however. I lifted her in my arms with her head towards my left shoulder and she felt like a feather. Although when I lifted her again, and this time with her head towards the right, she suddenly became several feathers heavier. The tricks of the conscious.

I like your usage of feathers. hahahahaha

You are such a prick!

You know you are about to come face to face with legends like Colin Fernandes and Aditya Sinha soon? I mean, are you all ready for it?

I have no clue. I have no clue.

How was that girl in the bus the other day?

Oh she was hot! Those incredibly blue eyes and the golden locks. It was after a long time I exchanged those expressions.

Why did you not ask her out?

... Was there a point? I had 10p in my pocket.

Love also comes at a cost.

I don't know about love, but dates certainly do.

You are no stranger to that.

:) Yeah that was me. I don't know if I'll have a similar date in near future.

That did not happen, you just charmed her enough to take you out on the date while she was under the wrong impression. And that was a good date.

It did end well.

I like this high

2009-05-21T19:41:00.000-07:00

I am listening to the sounds of silence, as crumpled I lay in the dark confines. It has a sense of deja vu, this feeling, you know. I have heard them before and every time I say the same words. It was kind of strange, the air that I walked through today. I like this high, a temporary sense of absolute disconnect with everything. The sky no longer feels any different, not that I noticed much of it back then... but back then, I was used to noticing it, off and on.
I see myself walking through stone roads with amber lamps on either side and a violinist playing, gently. And then an accordion, and a beautiful face, with eyes that haunt you with an encumbering presence, with those lips and a voice as sweet as a nightingale's.
I just live fantasies, for I know not if they'd ever be real. At least there is no heartbreak, there is no pain. I prefer it this way.

I miss Khajuraho and its lake. I miss the forts, the railtracks, and the cheap beers. That is some kind of life which never returns no matter how hard you try. That is some life that exists and just, exists.
And then I see something that is unseen. That there is a tomorrow and if it is not that beautiful as today, then there is a chance it might be.

Grow up Peter Pan!

2009-05-03T05:29:00.000-07:00

It is a strange phase of life when you learn that your younger siblings have started earning. You feel like saying, 'How did she grow up so fast?' Then last night as me and Devika were watching Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikander, we were about to remark but did not do so fo obvious reasons... Then it just came out that 'these are the movies of our age, the ones we saw as we were growing up'. Trust me it was as happy as sad a statement.

I have become quite personal with my blogging, not that I ever had the luxury of a legion of fans like a lot of my contemporaries. But then I also broke out of the mould for I could not write about sex in the sleazy 'Sex and the City' manner like Compulsive Confessor or put up articles or stupid propaganda a la Mr Colin 'Maxim' Fernandes. No points for guessing my scorn though.

Is it always necessary for you to pour unlimited scorn on people who don't matter?

Oh shut your face! It is necesary for reasons more than one.
Anyway, so it is quite strange to see myself in the mirror and say 'you are old!' How do you do that? It is quite upsetting you know.

Do I?

(Hmmm) I keep forgetting who you are. (Cunt)

(I heard that)

Devika has asked me to be more social. When was I ever anti-social? Vivek however said something funny the other day. The question was, 'how come the subect of marriage never arrives in our context'. To which the witty bengali quipped - "We are the non-marriageable types... rather the unmarriageable types".
It is true actually, innit! Anyhow, this marriage virus is spreading faster than the bird flu. Why can people not be happy in their lives that they have to spoil someone else's and then create a third life together which is further spoilt, or going to be. And then one day they will have kids and spoil theirs as well. It is all so silly.

Or maybe you are!

I am not quite liking this banter that we have had for some time now. Since the past few months, I have been seeing that you are never supporting me.

Well if you are looking for unconditional support in your rants, then I am not the one you were looking for in the first place mate. Things have changed and I think you laid down the rules.

Whatever.

Peter Pan, it is time to grow up a little. I am not asking you to live like the world and you know that.

What if I do not wish to grow up like they expect me to?

Firstly, stop getting them in your life. It ain't good pal. Secondly, when have you ever cared about them ever. You always end up doing things your way then where the fuck do 'they' ever come from?

Hmm. Yeah that is also a point.

I guess your hormones, for the lack of a better word, are overwhelmed with certain sudden developments, with your people getting married and younger ones grown up enough to start making their respective lives. It is the natural order of things. And I guess you are there to shake it enough because maybe, and I say this warily, you are ready.

To grow up?

[...] How long has it been since you had a spliff?

About twenty odd days or something.

You suck!

Erm, well.

:)

Joker and the thief

2009-03-04T09:22:00.000-08:00

My darling butthead tagged me here and it is kind of a funny exercise when you are not doing anything. And since I am not doing anything, I am doing this.
Here is how it goes:

1. Put your iTunes, Windows Media Player, etc. on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS.
4. Tag (N) friends.
5. Everyone tagged has to do the same thing.
6. Have Fun!

As always, there is no compulsion for the tagged individuals to carry on the chain. But it would be fun to do it. I can say that because I had some. :)

IF SOMEONE SAYS 'ARE YOU OKAY' YOU SAY?
Are you gonna go my way - Lenny Kravitz

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
Every grain of sand - Bob Dylan

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Little child - Beatles

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Exploration - Thievery corporation

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Bron-Y-Aur Stomp - Led Zeppelin
(Don't ask, even I do not know what to make out of it)

WHAT'S YOUR MOTTO?
Hitch Hike - Rolling Stones

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Breathless - The Corrs
(I should start deleting some songs from my library)

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Borderline - Madonna
(Yes I have some Madonna as well!)

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Township Rebellion - Rage against the machine

WHAT IS 2 + 2?
Tez Dhaar - Sanjay Dutt (Musafir)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
One - Metallica

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Dreams - Cranberries

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
I wanna be your dog - Iggy Pop

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
I wanna be your man - The Beatles
(I swear this is what came out!)

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Let the bodies hit the floor - System of a down
(Some wedding will this one turn out to be)

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Take Five (salsa version) - Tito Puente

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Love in a trashcan - The Raveonettes

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
Someone's gotta a hold over my heart - Bob Dylan

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Pal - KK

WHAT DO YOU WANT RIGHT NOW?
Magic Bus - The Who

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Love will tear us apart - Joy Division

WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Joker and the thief - Wolfmother

25 (Random) things about me

2009-02-19T05:00:00.000-08:00

I reckon this has to be one of those posts where people are constantly battling between revealing and concealing. It is kind of autobiographical in the sense that there are a number of things you learn about your friend (how enchanting!) in a world where virtual realities seem to be colliding with actual realities.
And since I am that bored and have been tagged by more than four people till now, I'd rather do it.

However, might I add that being a true blood Scorpion, even more than the usual Scorpions, you will have either have to go a bit deep to understand the 25 points that follow or ignore. Secondly, even if you are that deep, it might not help you that much tee hee hee! As someone once said, 'The reason Kirit is so scary that you never know what is in his mind; his eyes never say a thing unless you are that much into him, the chances of which, given the condition called Kirit Kiran, are extremely rare'.

One small change however - those who wish to continue the chain can go ahead. It is not necessary for you to write 25 things about yourself even if you have been tagged, something which I am still not sure of.

1. It is very easy to make me laugh. You do not need to possess literary skills to charm me with your humour nor a crash-course in slapstick to tickle my funny bone. However, it is indeed true that I respect humour more than comedy. So whether you are Alec Guiness or Chris Farley, chances are, you will end up making me laugh. The contrary is also true - I can make anyone laugh with my sarcasm or slapstick routine, given the person and situation.

2. I am an excellent cook and can pick up any recipe within seconds. During my teenage years, I used to watch Khaana Khazaana more than my sister or mother; actually they never quite saw it. I also collected cookery books with the first buy happening in the year 1994 when I was all of 11 years old. The one thing I need to pick up though is seafood. So far it has only been prawns.

3. I am as confused about my sexuality as any other human would be. I have had two boyfriends in the past, and kissed more than three men in my life till now. One of them was a mistake - I actually did think he was a she and that is why I was drawn to him. I later learnt he was only a crossdresser. Oops! If I were questioned about my status as of now, I'd say that I am purely heterosexual and someone who does not cringe at the mention or the presence of homosexuality.

4. I prefer my women sans makeup or without any kind of horror called cosmetics. I do not understand why they need it in the first place. Every time I have woken up with a woman, I was confused as to whether she was the one I boned last night. The kohl, esp with these Delhi women and the LSR/Miranda brigand, is so thick that you have to make use of a shovel to see what kind of eyes they possess. The word is self-explanatory - make UP!

5. It is indeed true that at any given time in the world, if two people were to sit down and discuss anything related to me, it is highly unlikely that they would have a common ground unless they are in the same circle. And then, too, if they have seen me exposed, something which I know happens once every two blue moons. Different people know me differently and sometimes I just shyly smile to myself about it.

6. It is quite surprising to learn, and this is something I just discovered recently, that throughout my life, it has been the woman who made the first move. Or in some fortunate cases, asked me out. Say whatever, it is strangely true and I do not know what to make of it. What is unfortunate that with none of these women the relationship could go to the next level, or in some cases even to the relationship level. And nobody is to be blamed for it. It is just unfortunate.

7. I prefer talking to people who can look me in the eye. I just hate it when the person you are talking to is looking elsewhere or hardly ever makes an eye-contact.

8. Not many know this but at one time in my life, I have stolen a motorcycle, a car and a bicycle just for fun. I returned it few hours later by parking it a few blocks away from the owner's house.

9. My unpredictability quotient is so high that at times it renders me absolutely helpless and clueless. You can imagine how others would be affected by this.

10. Contrary to what my schoolmates would say, I am not short-tempered. I have mellowed down and more so because I understand myself to a level where my anger is reserved for two kinds of people:
a) those who I love to pieces and anger is just one of the methods of expression I employ and they know it too.
b) those who I do not know and deserve a good beating after some interaction has taken place.
Otherwise I challenge you to make me angry. I promise you will FAIL!
You see, I have inherited my mother's tolerance.
When I am angry, well, God help you then!

11. One thing that does anger me is lack of intelligence. If you were not born with it, you could have earned it as you were growing up.

12. I vehemently detest the derogatory (mal)practice of mixing languages or using them without any grammatical sense or making colloquial seem proper. I loathe the thought of hearing someone say 'wanna' and 'gotta' thinking they are legitimate words. It is like when someone says, 'both of you all' or 'all of you all'. I feel like giving one tight slap there and then.

13. I rarely talk to dumb people or useless fucks! Like that music writer from HT City who hardly knew a thing about music and was famous throughout Delhi as a music writer. Stupid fat cow!

14. I have no answer when someone asks me the following:
a) What are your favourite books? Or who are your favourite authors?
b) How do I look?
c) What kind of music do you listen? Or who are your favourite artistes?
d) What are your favourite films? Or who are your favourite actors/actresses (and no, I am not supporting any stupid feminist like that bitch Shabana Azmi by calling an actress an actor)/directors?
I do not think highly of these people thereafter. I do not think highly of Shabana Azmi either and anyone who thinks people like her (eg Aamir Khan) are good actors, they need to go and dump their heads in toilets.

15. I am a film buff in a manner that I can loudly say that I was born with cinema in my blood. And no, it is not because I had one subject pertaining to films; I have literally grown up with it. At the age of 14 I had understood the importance of editing, cinematography and screenplay.
I also hate the fact when someone fails to understand a film and readily slots it on the basis of stupid TV programming and whatever they could make out of the made out garbled shit printed in newspapers/magazines. Most importantly, anyone who goes by the hype, is, in my opinion, not even fit to be alive. I warm up to those who understand the difference between movies and films. And I literally choke myself with lack of intelligence when sitting amidst retards and opinionated assholes discussing films.

16. I believe 'love' is largely a misunderstood and overblown word. Just as 'sex' is. I have never understood why certain things are hyped more than they can carry.

17. Ok, I have few weird habits:
a) I open a closed wallet/door/bag only to check if it is properly closed/shut/locked.
b) Any kind of key in any pocket of mine will be tinkled more than five times in order to confirm it is there.
c) I love eavesdropping, anytime, anywhere and on anyone. I have really sharp ears and selective hearing.
d) I love gossip more than a woman probably would. I think it is very healthy.
e) I clean my cutlery before eating that is if I have cutlery in the first place.
f) I still make the mistake of wearing a shirt/sweater inside out without realising it.

18. I love my single malts and dark rums. I think Vodka is too strange a drink just like Pina Colada or Champagne. Yes, I only have an intake of hard liquor and unless it is too hot, a beer. I hate it when someone drinks without knowing why he is drinking that or how it is to be taken. For instance, I know people with following weird combinations:
a) Whisky with red bull. Total ganwaar behnchod!!!
b) Whisky with soda+coke+water. I just don't understand what can this be called. I can understand those who mix slight soda and coke but what the hell is this.
c) Beer with ice! Incredible.
And if you love alcohol, then I suggest learn it like I did from one of my uncles or people around.
Oh yes, I just can not, under any circumstances, consume wine. I have not yet developed a taste for it.

19. I am probably one of the most useless people when it comes to fashion advice or comment. I do not understand the concept or the whole vulgarity of it. This means I also do not take people who are wearing clothes as per the "trend" seriously. I also do not like when someone comments on somebody's style/clothes. I think it is absolutely hideous to indulge in an activity like this.

20. Actually, I am religiously against people who can pass a comment/suggestion/piece of advice without asking or any need seen nearby. A display of intelligence, that is if you are indeed brainy, will come by its own and the same can be said about its admiration. You don't need to push it mate, esp about someone else's life!

21. I am in love with the camera but hate being clicked when asked to pose. If you know how to handle the lens then you will click good pictures without asking people to say cheeeeese! I love natural pictures, even if the person looks bad in it. And since I look bad in any picture, natural or posed, you can well understand my hate. I also hate people who are extremely trigger-happy. If given a chance, they will snap you taking a dump, shagging, or even taking a bath. I also hate the specie that is fortunate enough to buy expensive cameras and put them on auto mode the moment they take the camera out of the box. Then, I hate them all the more when people remark positively on their auto-mode pictures. I hate the ones who remark, as well.

22. I detest 'free' privileges. You have one life and if you can not earn them, then you might as well not be alive.

23. I am at my worst when I am cold and uncommunicative. No amount of coaxing can get me back then. That is, to some extent, my anger at its peak.

24. I am a man of simple tastes and extravagant dreams.

25. I am not the nicest man to know! :P

Go figure!

Just randomly...

2009-02-19T04:33:00.000-08:00

Why do women insist on wearing heels when their feet start hurting precisely 8 seconds later and all throughout the night, you have to bear the unsettling complaints of pain? It is happened to me on more than one occasion and I reckon it is something to do with me not wearing heels, as the women would say.

Every time someone exclaims, 'You don't understand man!', I rarely know how to respond. Should I ask the person to explain it to me so that I do understand or does he/she wishes me to politely keep listening to the rants while sitting puzzled and curious.

I am absolutely baffled when confronted with the nauseating question - How do I look?

Don't you think you just ask too many questions at times?

Yeah... So?

Oh, so you confess being a prick. How refreshing!

Do you remember the girl in Paulino's circle of friends? The brunette with straight hair and who looks a bit like Katrina Kaif.

Cordelia?

Ah, yes, Cordelia-ah! Isn't that a lovely name?

Flavia! Cordelia! Claudia Cardinale! Aren't these beautiful women?

Oh they certainly are. Sigh! Every time I am on the verge of shouting that real beauty, whether in male or female terms is nowhere to be seen these days, I come across one such specimen in stark contrast. But, look at this, how, in time, does a person's name starts affecting him?

How?

See these are beautiful names and the women who have them are equally beautiful. How often have I and Dimitris been on these daydreaming, gooey-eyed teenage boys' trip when Flavia comes in our conversation? Like, see, every person has a name for a reason I think. Another one of those cosmic mysteries. Look at this, every famous person has a unique name. Or distinct.

It could also mean they are distinct people... Every one is born distinct, few recognise and practice it.

No, that is a pragmatic way of looking at this. In my world, half the time, you do not deal with reality. Look at this: Amitabh is a combination of "Amit" and "Abha" meaning the light that shines forever; Shah Rukh is in direct relation with his King-like status in our Hindi film industry; Oscar Wilde, G B Shaw, even William Shakespeare.

Just how uncommon do you think is a name like William?

Shakespeare!

Hmm

I often wonder about my own name.

(I so knew this bugger was on a self-importance trip!) And what uniqueness does Kirit Kiran bring to mind?

I am not sure you and I are talking the same language. You are the drug peddler, you do not even exist in reality. You are the alter-ego I have in the already dysfunctional sidelined existence I seem to enjoy every day.

So what does that mean, as in your name?

Kirit means crown and Kiran means ray of light. The crown with the ray of light? The crown that shines.

Crown: A historic memorabilia of monarchy and the like and currently resides only in glass cases and on the heads of inconsequential people like the Queen.

That does not sound good.

Oh, and by the way, even if the name is beautiful, you aren't.

Yes, that is also true.

So, are you going to tell any of these women how beautiful they are? Like, you know, fancy a date or something eh?

No, just randomly.

Ok.

It is a new year a'rite!

2009-01-20T08:28:00.000-08:00

My disappearance from this weblog is now synonymous with my physical presence in this world. It has always been like this; sometimes it has been an imbalance between mental and physical existence. To be honest, I had not realised how big this gap has been until Sur pointed out to me. I had no answer back them and the case is pretty much the same as of now.

During this while, I was juggling with the idea of being 26 (yes, that is my official age even though I look and talk much older) and a few offers that were great but dropped dead the moment they were reaching finalisation. I had moved into my new house, which turned out to be as serene as I needed. The landlord and his family are few of the nicest and sweetest people around. Every morning Anete, my landlady, bids goodbye with a full-throated cheer to her husband and son as they make their way out for their offices. The routine is repeated in the evenings as they are greeted with a great warm welcome. If she misses out on meeting her son when he is back home because of her work then she comes up to his room (right next to mine) and talks to him for at least fifteen minutes. There is Freddy, the cat, who has now taken a liking to me. In fact more than him, it is his chum from the neighbouring house who loves rubbing himself on the surface of my trousers/jeans/tracksuit. No sense of fabric! Oh there is a fox who recently devoured one of the many pigeons that this family feeds religiously. This, after we keep food every night for the devilish canine. I must confess it is a great room/house to live in under 350 pounds a month. The rent is just one of the good factors. :)

Then India happened. I set off for a 10-day trip during which I had to attend Ashima's wedding and reception, Vidyashree Didi's wedding and reception and the mega function of my Nana-Nani's 50th wedding anniversary in Jaipur. That was a spectacle, a celebration of togetherness like I had never seen in my life. I got a taste of it when it was my parents' 25th wedding anniversary. There were like three times the number of relatives that had flocked to Jaipur for the grand occasion. In between, I was lucky and unlucky to catch up and lose out on a lot of friends. That I did manage to see a lot of them is just pure luck and effective time-management.
I, for some odd reason, could neither understand nor condense the gravity of this visit. Do I love England now? How was it to visit India after fifteen months? I have no answers. I think it has something to do with my anger issues.
Anyhow...

*******************************************************************

The last one year has seen a steep rise in the number of people succumbing to marital desires. A record of sorts! The astrologers, and, relatives alike proposed, advised and inquired about my marital status, which was just one of the amusing encounters for me. I informed them, with utmost delight, that it would take at least 10 years. They were not amused for some reason.
At one point of time, I did however, in a fit of unemployed time, thought about it. I was not amused either.
You see, the trouble is not in the fact that I am still looking for a job but the whole concept sounds too (im)mature for me. Maybe it is not the right time. What, then, is the right time?
When you find a possible love interest or when you start discovering the increase in the hair loss? In my humble opinion, and in the interest of my thick hair, my interest in the institution called marriage is limited. Some make it work, others fall out, while the majority just goes on with it. Yes, there are psychological reasons for my behaviour and thought-process and I have been to a lot of dark, Freudian hallways to discover the same. I choose to continue smoking pot.

*******************************************************************

Oh, one new thing 2008 taught me was poker. I am, and my family will agree hands down, possibly the worst person to play with cards. Actually I just fiddle and the only cards I ever understood and played brilliantly were WWF trump cards. Kids now won't understand even if educated in graphic detail, but back then they were like a status symbol. Owning a deck assured your place in the cool people category; I had four out of which all but one survive. One of them has 3 Hulk Hogans, 2 Bret 'The Hitman' Hart and 3 people with the different names and statistics but same face. I could kill any player opposite me because I could remember the cards very well. For instance, if my opponent had Undertaker, I was most likely to successfully recollect the cards before and after complete with every statistic, giving me the complete freedom to kill his/her happiness even if they had better cards.
I did not have any instinctive dislike for cards; it can be attributed to my lack of understanding and the utter confusion as to what card works how and when. For long, I did not even understand the suits. So, the Diwali 'flash' game seemed as silly and irrelevant an activity like applying oil to your hair. Or the last time you went for a Karan Johar film.
Vedant took the initiative and without any pestering, taught me poker. I was too reluctant to try even practice my skills for long until one fine evening in November I was all into it. My journey since then has been that of a poker scholar. A lot of my time is spent in reading, watching poker and doing funny odds calculations in my head. According to two players, Dawg himself (the mentor) and Aseem, I am a pretty scary player. That is probably because I am quiet and hardly talk during any hand. It could also mean that I lack confidence, which is true, and, often get flustered with good or bad hands alike, which is something only practice can cure... I am somehow drawn to the idea of practicing.
For some strange reason, I think a lot about poker as a game of skills. It is out and out gambling. But it is not that only luck counts like in flash, where the space for any kind of skill is limited. In fact, at times, not even present. A good poker play could be like waiting for the right hand, and the right time, and then maximising your profit - same as life!

*****************************************************************

I have decided and this is going to be the course for my life. I love fame, money and power and to achieve them all together, I'll have to walk this way. One of the reasons I gave for the absence of any marital thought is my constant hopping different career lines/lanes. The last year gave to me the gift of knowing myself to a large extent. In the words of Cobain (who I have rechristened Colin Farrell for the uncanny resemblance):

You were cynical but hopeful. Now you are hopeful, but cynical.
And now you have a little anger.

I guess it was necesssary, which is probably the reason I thank my course and strengthen the belief that coming here was, indeed, a good decision. One strange thing though - I have been so lost during this period that I blinked and missed the year. Or maybe the year missed me.

********************************************************************

And so the new year started with me running to the immigration office of a country that once ruled us. The positions change so fast in the world and look at us daft human beings who are caught up in stupid power games. I don't think anything else has ever amused me this much. I am aware of the truth that it - the coming time - is going to be one big bumpy ride, for it is going to be the most unpredictable journey for me. What gives me hope and the necessary drive is the fact that it will work out. Not in the placid manner as Mulk Raj Anand puts it here, but in a confirmative way.
Being out of context is my biggest advantage for there are benchmarks or odious comparisons to deal with. There are however a lot of other problems. For instance, I was denied the chance of working for an Indian media house here in London because I can not speak English in a British accent!
I remember clearly during my family function in Jaipur that one of my (educated) aunts asked me about my encounters with racism. I wonder, now, what to tell her. The funny thing about this place is that when you enter the office, the place greets you in its typical Indian manner: the magazines on the desk in the reception area are old and irrelevant for any guest of any kind; the receptionist appears to be a lost puppy who knows the mandatory five sentences by heart; and while I was waiting for my interviewer, a lot of big utensils (pateelas) carried Indian food inside. Oh yes, and out of the two clocks, one was not working, while the functioning timepiece was in a direction that you'll be given two lollipops for finding the camouflaged ticker. After a lot of useless banter, it was down to my ethnicity and nationality, and in that order. Since I was unclear about the confusion over my recruitment, the verdict came out clear - I had to be British-born, or impersonate the accent, either of which does not interest me. You know, if you are in London, or any other part of England, I can guarantee that the accent and weather are equally unpredictable. The parameters for accent - geographical location, society, and ethnicity; so far, I have encountered nine different African English language accents. I do not remember any of them except when I have to crack a joke. So the whole charade pointed out that in a city with over two-dozen accents, I was not given the job of a journalist for my linguistic skills lacked the twang. It is that shtupid, mayyte!

*********************************************************************

And so the new year begins... Good luck to all!
(Do click the links, they are all for your knowledge.)

The shadow walker

2008-10-21T10:21:00.001-07:00

I mistook the gravel on her breasts for goosepimples. I thought she was nervous. That is a good sign. It felt like I am not the only one. I saw a time-lapse change of moon's shadow on her face as the lightweight ones flowed by. ... Have you ever been controlled by a pair of eyes? It is not hypnosis; it is a voluntary state of being without any reason. You cringe because every moment pricks you. Often it tickles. I can not forget that heavenly bejewelled pair. I was floating like a feather on the tip of a gesture. They speak to me while those pearly whites distract me into concentrating on every part of her. It was the darkest hour of the night.

*****************************

It is still a dark night. I am surrounded by a multitude of buildings, with absurd lighting. It looks absurd, I do not think it quite is. Despite this being really a civilised place, there is not a single soul around. Can't people sleep during the day so that they stay up during the night?

******************************

I still remember me walking through joiner tunnel, flamboyantly. I was stoned, a bit, and a bit too intoxicated on a magic bug. It was like doing ballet without any form of elegance known to mankind. Joiner St has a perfect setting for any opening for a film. It has water splashed, all the time and there is a sodium bulb at the end. There is normally little traffic so it was easier for me to frolic. I am not your man, I am just leading you to him. It was not easy attracting you though.

******************************

The room was dark as always. The two corner lamps were on though. the blue bulb in the orange shade and the purple one in white. He still has not finished the two James Headley Chase novels. Rum Diaries was also crying for respect. He is sitting encumbered within the smoke. On a black and white reel, he'd appear noir. He is also very calm. I have never seen a much more vibrant and monochromatic face at the same time. "You found me." "Yeah!"
It was evident that the game was over.

Viva Santiago! (Probably in Santiago?)

2008-10-07T12:05:00.000-07:00

Viva Santiago
Colin Fernandes
Penguin: New Delhi, 2008
Rs. 199

After a lot of deliberation, I decided to pen this review in first person, and in the manner I could, freely, express. What was initially planned to be written in a formal tone turned out to be a confusing affair; it would seem that lack of surprise, dismay of the lowest level at the banality of the tale and that Delhi urge to be cool killed my excitement of a new book. I now write this as a blog entry which will not only review the book, but take into consideration various accounts of the same, and, of course, display my devilish grin as I rip apart few things in my genuinely insulting tone.

I was eagerly waiting for Viva Santiago! My excitement was displayed in my congratulatory mail to Colin which I had sent as a token of appreciation for a former colleague who had taken the brave step of coming out with a book in such a short span of time. I am glad it was all short lived; not because of any personal differences (there is no place for that here), but it saved me the embarrassment of anything positive that I might have said earlier. For all the popcorn relish it offers, Viva Santiago is abysmally low in its attempt to be "that" thing (read that cool thing) in contemporary Indian literature. I share this sentiment with Sharanya who makes a good point -- a jovial, light-hearted read that doesn’t take itself too seriously. I saw the cover and felt let down. It is not Colin's fault at all; these publishers, who definitely lack the brains to do anything in publishing, tend to do this all the time. They did this with Chetan Bhagat's One Night at a Call Centre, Tushar Raheja's Anything for you Ma'am and Kiran Desai's The Inheritance of Loss. These are all laboured works that definitely do not lack ambition but are highly anaemic, given their insincerity towards writing. Lest we forget, they were never serious. Someone like Jabberwock might like them. He is equally confused, except that he knows he is and others do not. Desai's justified award still finds a hater in me. This piece is about Colin's work however.

See, this is one of the problems I am facing. Despite reading it sincerely, I can not dissociate the author from his book. My Derridian ideas stopped me from doing so, initially; in the later stages, it was as if I am reading Colin's blog or any of his contemporaries' (including mine). Anyhow... The story is about Alonso Gonzalez, a typical Delhi University lad who embarks on an impromptu and treasure to his hometown in Goa (Ah, will the ever surprises end!). He is aided by Yvette, a Canadian, (will the western conformism ever stop? and please do not wonder why is she from the white Northern Americas) who claims to know his grandfather. You see, the ol' man is the dude here: He mouthed the most over-abused cliche, that I personally dislike, of life being a roller coaster and mojito in one hand, and some jane in another, and there is a woo-hoo. Ok, my bad, I know the line like the back of my hand and it is not the coolest thing. It is like "I live my life a quarter mile at a time" or you know, "Life is a box of chocolates, you never know which one might melt". Oh again, my bad. You see, that is the problem with these cool lines - they can always be modified, just as Colin does, and cheaply, in his book. The original line has been read in numerous mails and those profiles that are either pretentious or just for "frandsip". Those guys can use it, not you dude. Oh, the grandpa! You see, the womaniser or the women-loving man lives in a purple haze, is addicted to Dylan (or so it is portrayed; you see, more coolness is spelt with things like these) and indulges in religious banter ((un)surprisingly, he is quite blasphemous at times).
Something is amiss here. He has left a treasure for Alonso. There is a gold chess pawn, a map and Yvette who discovers him in a Paharganj (Am I smiling at all the deliberations or what?!?), and, yes, there is lots of pot and umpteen references that make it so uncool from something that could really have been cool.

Everything is so Da Vinci here that one does not believe it to be real. Secondly, this unrealistic ability stems from the convenience with which the book has been drafted. After all, Viva Santiago ends with the line that it was written in three weeks. I remember going through Colin's blog at that time and reading the 2-sentence entry before the book and the one that followed. I was interested in his book since then. I just did not know that he is hell bent on disappointing his readers to that extent. Everything is picture perfect: friends, family, hippies and a woman on an Enfield attends Grampa's funeral. The transition from student-life in Delhi to rolling joints in Goa happen with such an ease that you wonder whether there exists an understanding of intertwining and parallal narratives. Narrative, it seems is a paralysed entity here. A premature birth results in long scars till the end of the book.
Everything is touched on; it is as if the Penguins asked Colin to write a travelogue of his home state, heavily intoxicated and put in every modern cool film in it. So there are pig-killing rituals, Grampa exhibits traits of Col Kurtz, Paul Newman and, very annoyingly, Bruce Dern and Walter Mathau packed in one. And all of them are smoking pot. You can imagine Lee Strasberg would have killed Elia Kazan and then hung himself upside down.

In Hindi, there is a proverb that goes, kahin ka roda, kahin kee eent. It means pebble from somewhere and the brick from somewhere else. That is the recipe of this book that uses random photographs (and anecdotes, many of which are doctored heavily) to suggest something - that everyone is on a trip. Hence, I wonder, whether in an annoying manner, Colin brilliantly weaves a tale that probably exists in his stoned world and could be real in some parallel universe. But then, sadly, Mr Fernandes, your readers are well aware of such fables... Or the existence of their thought for that matter. So yes, dude, it is a brilliant story if it were narrated to me on a corner in one of the old towns of Goa or Rajasthan and we were two strangers whom pot brought together. In that sense, I smile. But I know, this drug-induced bliss is momentary. Unfortunately, your book does not even provide that. Probably in some other universe, some other time.

***************************

I presume Ridhi Kamal Parekh of DNA needs to get her head examined and same goes for the retard called Amarinder Sandhu. I wonder if they are Colin's friends because that is how things in Delhi and Mumbai are moving these days - because of these cool chuts. Last I heard, Complusive Confessor is already on her way to become India's Carrie Bradshaw.

Ridhi is from DNA and her review is horrible. Same goes for SAndhu. Both these writers present an extended version of the jacket, which I must admit is so not cool. It destroys the reading by raising the reader to a pedestal with drums beating and hearts pounding and it is as if Girls in the US are awaiting the arrival of Beatles for the first time... And then, Poof! The first lines tell you that this is a hurried affair by a good writer who has hardly put in any effort apart from watching a couple of DVDs and indulging in useless banter with his accomplices. Ridhi's review is titled 'Da Vinci Code for those who love Goa' and the Tribune reporter calls it 'Dylan code deciphered'. Hmm. I wonder if they even deserve my insults. I think they should be fired immediately. For instance, Ridhi writes, 'Fernandes peppers the story with interesting (some might say useless) anecdotes about the family'. What is this diplomatic (read two-faced) line? Sandhu goes a step ahead by using phrases like 'joyous wit', 'whacky humour', 'vivid story', but the funniest bit is this - The reader is taken on a roller coaster ride while reading. The book is fast paced and easy to read. The writer has caught the sights, sounds and smells of Goa.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! No offence Colin, but are these your friends? Did you pay them anything? Because if you did not, then I suggest, make them pay you immediately for writing such reviews.

Most importantly, the only thing kaleidoscopic in the novel is its cover artwork, which I do not see as creative. It draws heavily on LSD-induced scribbles that still line some of the ol' shops in Camden or Goa for that matter. Because if the twists are hailed as kaleidoscopic, then I have to say something - the mystery is known to everyone except the reader who has his own mystery as to why he chose this book. It is not bad. It is readable but it is purely bad fiction as Sharanya observes. There is nothing worse in the world than bad comedy and bad mystery. And you can not be forgiven Colin because mystery and innocence are not akin; hence you can not escape with the argument that this is your first book.

Now, the insults begin. You see, people like Colin in modern, urban India are led to believe that they are the first ones here to be cool. The protocol increases with terms like - smoke loads of pot, act cool even if you are not, listen to Dylan and Cobain at the same time, act cool even if you are not, talk about everything that has a cult following and lest we forget, act cool even if you are not! Hence, when he got the book deal, I was just wondering whether he deserved one. It is not him who generates kind hate in me, it is his form, that specie which generates so much of love inside my heart for these bucketheads. These are the people who call themselves hippies, yet work with rigid conformity to Americanised ideas. They might be reading Kerouac and Ginsberg and treating themselves (thanks to their proximity to local bands trying to create 'music') as the Gen Next for these tough globalised (?) times but are hardly anything global or modern in their outlook. They hail themselves as kids born in wrong time and they rightfully deserved to be in the flower power era and all that jazz; their lifestyles and thought processes speak something else. And in these times, it is absolutely essential that they are told that they are wrong and their supposedly cool ideas have been here even before they were just eggs. Unfortunately that does not happen and they end up doing this.

I have faith in Colin's writing but look what conformity to the thought that he must pen a book that can sell, did to him. I am not insulting him because I hate his luck, but because it is a sad state of affairs in contemporary creative India where "how cool" is something that determines the creative quotient of any product or idea. I do not think MTV Roadies is good Reality Show programming or Get Gorgeous and its BitchDiaries is anything interesting to watch. Mouthing "fuck" and "gaandu" do not show that your programme is not laboured or it is downright real; Bani had to become a VJ and it was obvious by the 4th episode to everyone in Roadies 4. So do not insult the intelligence of the audience, whosoever they might be. Again, over there you have cool people like Nikhil Chinnappa, who let me tell you is one of the most obnoxious and phoney people you will ever meet. Seriously!

This cheating of audience is not healthy, nor is it new. I just wonder if Colin takes a serious clue from here because the one good thing about his book is - it can easily be made into a cool film. (I do not use the term movie as it is a slang.) Yes, I assure you that anyone with an interpretative method can create a nice silver screen adventure. But, the operating word being interpretative, which would mean that Viva Santiago will have to undergo a lot of changes and get rid of its phoney and deliberate character. Probably I will, when I have the money because some of the stuff in this book is just so cool Colin!

(A detailed version of this post appears on my other blog where I elaborate more on the dialectics.)

The last resort

2008-09-22T16:02:00.000-07:00

I remember sitting in a room full of people and feeling as if I am the only one.
There are voices all around me but I am not able to comprehend anything in general. It is like nothing said exists with any relevance in the world. Not to me at least. You see I am not the first person here, hence this conversation seems out of place to me. Yet it gets narrated by me. Now I go from active to passive, all of a sudden.

You see, life's first phase is over. It is the last night... or so I hope. Today I have learnt that the ol' chapters are all coming to a close. One after other, they start rolling in to a cul-de-sac, peacefully and not with a bang but with a whimper. I am the snail who has learnt crawling on the edge of a razor, somebody please tell Kurtz.
Yesterday when Sur told me about her getting married, it was like, I was surrounded by an overwhelming air that I am still not able to define. On a parallal track, T was telling me, happily, about hooking up with her pals-in-arms. Fuck, I was confused; I did not know whether to tell them exactly how I feel or display affection and warmth that is genuinely present as well. I am happy and immensely disappointed at the same time. How cool is that? I did the latter, as always.

Lets see the list: Prajakta is dead; Aditi is an ol' jewel; Ayesha is gone forever and would never really see me; Sur will be married and even though I severed few ties of communication, it will continue to hurt; T* is happy with Sahil. Anyone left... yes, and for the obvious reasons. Wow. In one day, every form of realisation is happening, without permission. And I have to accept them all. I am so happy for Sur, I am just too sad for myself. I am happy for all of them, I am just too sad for myself. Everything, and I mean every damn thing, is coming to an end. I am not kidding when I say this but I just can not understand going on to the stage of the second phase of life. It all seems zero to me. Because I think it is. Because it is meant to be.

I have retreated into my own spa - Dawg's crib here at London Bridge, my last resort. I came here for 3 days and it has been two weeks. I eat, sleep, live here. Simple. And I smoke, and play the PS2. I am disconnected from everything possible in the physical universe we exist in. His housemate Viraat has a major problem with us staying in all the time and just smoking and playing the PS2. He expressed his surprise at my being a writer and away from reality when I should not confine myself to the cream walls around me. The trouble: I have met too many people like my stoner type. There is Bhalla, Manish, Kabir, the cute Sahil, The Tango and countless others who walk in and walk out... of my life. And then there is of course Dawg, one of my favourite stoner buddies. You know the best thing about him - he is such a loveable human being. Simple, chilled out and frank. Over here, I listen to Tiesto and The Ghost Song at the same time. I co-exist with them, smoothly.
But this won't last. In fact, it has come to an end almost. I am the one who is lingering it on and on. It ends tomorrow as I write this soliloquy.

Now, beginning Monday, it will be time for reconnaissance, some serious one. That is like four commas in one sentence with twelve words. Ptch! (I obliterated one)

I have a question: Is it alright to carry forward with the past besides you, and experiencing two or more emotions, without any prior information, at the same time? Like is it normal?
I mean, can all this happen at the same time? What is it?

DP: Allah ke bande, hans de, jo bhi ho woh kal aayegaa!

I hope so dude. :)

The Rattler

2008-09-14T11:40:00.000-07:00

It all began that night... I still remember the moments of agony and pain that were unbearable. What was I thinking and why was I thinking what I was thinking? It is like I am in a constant state of denial about accepting. What the fuck am I writing?

**********************************

Now, I very well remember that there used to be a certain meaning attached to my kind of living. I am not too sure if I still know it. This is the problem: the absence of the thought and the motive. If I do not sort this out any sooner, it will accumulate its loose ends and create a much bigger problem than me... This has been the case in the past... This should not be the case in the future... This means I need to work out my present.... .... ... Wow..., I feel enlightened!!!

***********************************

My life is not going to be sitting on the pavement all the time. I think way too much time has been spent there. And, deliberately, for everyone else's benefit other than mine. It is was a different tinge in the sky when I learnt that ordinary paves way for the extraordinary.
Now, it might just be the case with the right moment. And this comes from the person who disbelieves in the virtue of patience. Imazzine!

********************************

It is a matter of deliberation of thought; it needs to be done when... erm need be. See, that is the whole point of existence, evolution of thinking. No closure here for sure, never. Although, I find it hard to draw the line between ambition, desire and greed/lust. This is the conundrum which sucks, you know, like a vaccuum cleaner, all your sensibility. I strive to go beyond this. Is it possible? The question we normally ask, 'is it necessary?', bans the path.

**********************************

I have just written my first man. This is where it began. (Watch this space)

Lets talk about her darling

2008-07-24T17:29:00.000-07:00

I have often thought about the people in my life regarding their connections with me. The other day my teenage wasteland buddy sent me a text as to how she was just thinking of me. You know if she reads this, her apt reply would be, "Don't think too much into it." Oh how much I love her!
But then that took me back to the day while I was walking on the sands, all by myself under the full moon of kartik poornima, wondering where am I going. I prayed for her (perch that eyebrow down, you know who), thinking... they say when you pray with an open heart, it comes true.

Hazaaron khawhishein aisi kee har khawhish par dam nikle
bahut nikle mere armaan, phir bhee kam nikle

Yes, the proverbial fear of living a desire come true! It scares me, you know.

Tu ek kaam kyun nahee karta, sab kuch bol daal. Kya faraq padta hai woh kya mehsoos karte hain. Sur ko bhee toh kaha naa tune. Bahut himmat chahiye uske liye. I am glad you at least said it. It wasn't easy and all I can say is that I know you will die loving her, but then, in your words, that is what I call being human.

... yeah... you may say so.

But I think we are digressing. Hum toh kisi aur road par the, nahee?

... Yeah, her and the poornima night. Thats one of my most significant nights you know. I have not prayed like day, normally I do not. I still have this little hope, a flinter that will glow. I'll die loving her too. Anyhow, I am not talking to you about her, exactly. I started thinking of all the women in my life. Those I met, some whom I loved and others who just walked away or out or as time extended, they fizzled as memories. Then those, who lived time with me. You know, there are moments when you just feel something and it gives you the courage to do it, to live it.
I still don't understand. I had bought the earrings so that I could wear them. But I ended up gifting it to Mary Jane. And now Cobain is my best friend and a brother. What, it has been like 7 years since we first met, MJ? I think so. Or if I had not acted like a desperate prankster, I would have missed out on Aditi. WHat a glorious time we had? How can I forget the soul who gave me the idea of them? The first one. You know how I still draw parallals?

Human again!

IF it were not for her, I won't even have known the presence of women in my life. Of course, this is incomplete without the first ones at all - my dearest mom and my darling sister, she is like a daugter to me. I miss them every day and every moment. I miss our petty squabbles and countless charades. But they, alongwith the woman for whom I have the highest regard, nani, are a different post altogether. They can not be here. This is about the significant others.

Ptch!

Sorry, I am still in the frasier mood. Anyway, getting back. So yeah, she, dob 4th or 8th of August, I think. I am so thankful to her for every passing day, makes me heal the wounds. And then she happened. Prajakta was the greatest and the best. I still feel connected to her. I worked hard at wooing her. You remember the time my entire group of friends at BIT was scared to death because I was not back home in time and was significantly late to be so.

Ah, yes. Shashank had a big problem with you the next day. Hahahha, you used a soppy story of how hard you were working for the annual function that you forgot the time. She came out after an hour or so, right?

Oh, I have waited for her like anything. Sometimes I think the love was just too much, it was some high level intensity that humans normally wont understand or experience. I still do not know how she was just taken away. But I know, that wherever she is, the love is still alive.

I am sorry Kirit. It hurts me too. You were just discovering me at that time.

No, it was not your fault. I am still trying to decode few things. And then as if that was not enough, Ayesha struck. Then Sur, Aditi... I explored new dimensions of love with each of them. So they are up there in a different cloud. But on a different note, see who all I met. Butthead, inarguably one of my simplest, most adorable (and hot) and charming, and indeed a great friend. You know, she said one of the sweetest things one day. Shreez dreamt that I raised a toast at her wedding and amusingly referred to her as Butthead. Thereafter, everybody forgot she was called Shreya. I was ecstatic. I do not remember anyone uttering something so beautiful, about me. Umm, actually it would be unfair to put all the remarks under the same sunshine. Shreez, by far has been one of the greatest things in my life and I love her everyday.
Tilottama still haunts me. She is one of those very few women. Remember that priestess in Kumbhalgarh? My god, she knew about me even before I had entered the fort, let alone the temple.
Lets talk about those I have not even met, at all. Deepa, one of my most adorable younger friends. I mean, I almost treat her like a sister. Or SiM, who was the first one to include me on her reading list. Or was it Jerry? Well, she was the first woman to do so nonetheless. Or lostlittlegirrl... and Ruchika, another scorpio from another continent. Isn't this a sweet bunch? And yeah, the mother of them all, Misfit, my wicked little darling. I so wanted to meet her before coming here. She has been a constant support and someone who, in the same vein as Shreya, has that bumchum quality. Just like Neha. What instant connection we had? Like, with these great people, it just happened in a minute that we learnt that we are going to be great buddies. As if we were born to be so! Isn't this fantastic? Richa, how can I forget my biggest debater in journalism school? She still hates me, I know it but then she is such a woman!!! I can not believe she has a son now. Wonder what mischief he would be upto when he grows up, given his mother's A+ credentials. Some benchmark she has set!
Mischief reminds me of Noopur, my greatest enemy. I think till the day she is alive, her entire family will be jealous of me for having that connection with her. I hate her because I love her so much. And one of the things I really miss is pulling her leg alongwith Sid and Nandy.
Poor Devika, who bears the brunt every damn time. She is like this pesky soul in my life without whom, living here would have been hell. Oh, how much I torment that poor girl all the time. People have already begun asking how she tolerates me. Losers! Just what do they know great friends are! Quite often I end up calling her and asking her to bring me food because I am either stoned or high or lazy. And they think why are we not seeing each other or romantically involved! Again, losers.
Ashi Hansa is another one. But then she deserves it. And I do not know if I can be thankful enough to these two little idiots called Ash and Sush for being there in the shithole called HT. Both of them are too much and two sweet munchkins. We are fondly called the three stooges, considering our antics. I am so glad for both of them considering they are at great stages in their respective lives. Ne plu ne plah! (Something only Sush and I can understand but so are the other statements for those respective people)
Then there are those whom you meet once or just know them, and you never know if there would be any other communication. Because chances are, there wont be any. Isha for her... life; she is just so full of it that it makes me envious. Anuradha for her charm. Noor for her mystery.
Maya for the enigma she is (I havent even met her). Pihu for her silly cuteness. Saadiya for the kindness. She is a great gal. Brave, beautiful, talented, and just the person she is.
Penny for her sensibility. See again, I do not know why I gifted her the book. But after a long time, I found a companion who enjoyed my chats... or well at least listened to me. I really enjoyed learning that she loved her bike ride with me. And she is a great gal indeed. Deep yet chirpy. An antithesis, Payal, PB! She is amazing. Like so much like a bully to me. I dont allow people to bully me, but PB, Shreez, and few others, have that right. And it is my privilege. She also has a son now. ANd I am so happy for her. Harman (another Noor), what a sweet woman. I dont have many friends from Amity you see. I do not keep in touch with her that regularly but she continues to tickle my funny bone with her SMS and forwards. ANd yes, there is Gowry, what an amazing woman! She still compliments me on my facebook profile pictures.

Boy, and you still complain?

I do not complain, Ok! Do not interrupt me in this.
See as I am thinking about all of them, it is all popping up. And I am so loving this whole thing of remembering my sweet women. So, right now I am not complaining. Ok.
Oh when I mentioned Isha, I forgot, Ambika Muttoo. I wished I had known her more. She seemed so nice. Well, she was nice. I wish she had told me that we were friends on hi5 before we met, by chance. Another capricorn like Ambika is Mireya. I never heard the words respect until she told me. What a trapped little genius she is. Knowledge, wit, she has it all. I just wish she is happy, every moment. If it weren't for her, Devika and Dimitris, I do know if I would have survived here in London. What an amazing person she is. Ayesha was a capricorn too, you know.

Yes, I do know. You have also dated an Aries, right?

I have not dated her, alright. T*, with the star. So far, the only woman I remember whose ambition struck a chord with me was Durba. I am still waiting for her to realise what she is worth. I want to see her being famous. But then, yes we are talking about T and Durba is anyway a Libran. She is like a great flame. Achiever, ambitious, hot in her own way and sweet and... innocent. Thats why I was drawn to her and probably still am. She is like this great incandescent a soul. I wish if hazaaron khawahishein aisi came true as per our wishes. Sigh! What a great woman she might be. Lets not go the road of "I wish". I am happy for her and will always be wherever she is. I just hope she is too. She is also bold, the way Surabhi Gupta was, my only girlfriend in school days (not the hot one I mean, the other one who only came for a year). God, I should have kissed her on that day. Ah, from school. Vidyashree Di, who still considers me a junior from school and loves me the same way. Ummm, Aditi, the little girl for whom I used to get chocolates. She must be 19/20 now. WHat a sweet little cupcake she and her sorority gals were. I got her a chocolate when I went back to school on one of those annual functions. I cherish her and our memories so much. I never had young admirers. Come to think of it, I don't have any one apart from those cute little toddlers.

Yes, you do!

Ahhh, My dear ol' Sassy!!! Of course, she gave me a reason to live at that time. WOw, what a gal! I mean of all my friends, she is definitely the most different, with few notable exceptions of course. I was on the seventh sky when I met her. Ah, my fatal allure. Hahahha
But then, just how many people have had good library tales to narrate? Again, something only she and I can understand. She gave something to me that is priceless. It can not be valued because like I said, it is priceless. I adore every moment with her and I am so protective of her that I am keeping tabs on her poor and sweet boyfriend. But most importantly, she made me understand the beauty of physical chemistry. And a connection that literally can not have any conclusion or meaning or even a depiction. My first big fan and on one of my most (stupidest) and adorable pals ever.
Adorable are few of my greatest girlfriends in my family, apart from my sister and mom who are the best ever - Sonu didi, without whom living in London was not even a possibility and Rakhi bua, whose intelligence, wit and humour still astound me (she is adorable); Prachi didi for she was the first one I called Didi; Priya Bhabhi for the wonderful friend she is; Kinni, Simmi and Neha, who are my other daughters apart from Mickey; Manu Mausi for the favourite childhood friend she is; and countless others...
Oh, the Devika I mentioned in the beginning is different from the one earlier. The teenage wasteland buddy is in a different league altogether. She is like one of the coolest women I have ever known. Like Beth from Germany with whom I shared that great night in Pushkar. Or Helena, the biker babe! No, this girl is different. She talks only through her eyes and her deep words. I wish I had dated her. All these women, they are aces in my book. I do not know if I would have come this far if it werent for them.

Here is wishing all the happiness for these great women and as I raise a toast, I wish God bless them all. I love you!

P.S. I love you too! At least we are always together.

Scornful!!!

2008-07-04T12:01:00.000-07:00

Hypothetically speaking, if I were a woman I would have published a sex book or an ab-diet book and made myself famous. Well, the other day I was reading a blog whose despicable author has always irked me and Cobain. For long I had wondered what was this woman's ambition that she writes full load of crap and I discovered that one of her first assignments in 'journalism college' was to write an article like none other than the heavily imitable Shobha De. She now has her own column where a lot more crap is published by the very same newspaper I once used to work for. Isn't that lovely? Like wow! I remember me and Abhijeet once remarking how she is an intelligent woman but uses it in the worst manner possible. That is sad... like fuckin' sad. When you have the gift of knowledge and intelligence that is earned, it is advisable to use it properly. But then, ye hai Dilli meri jaan! When Colin released a book and had a problem with my remark on him being a capitalist slave, I could just smile, for reasons more than one. If I was in Delhi and a part of the ratrace, I too would have had done this:
1. Got my own column much like Sushmita Bose's Single in the City or JB's From the blog cabin
2. Or would have been the features editor of an esteemed magazine like Maxim!
3. Produced 5 crappy but immensely popular plays with celebs like Sonam Kalra, Sita Raina et al and that would have happened after sucking their arses for long.
4. Be a part of the cool crowd!
5. Most importantly, I would have become snobbish, arrogant in the hollow manner, and one of the most hated people.
**********************************************************************
Arrogance is not the forte of the unintelligent or the banal. Nor is it inherited. It is to be earned and exhibited properly, not in the manner these idiots I just mentioned do. You talk to them and you can understand the Delhi virus. It bites you and it fuckin does a good job. Only few can survive that. But anyhow, we are talking about arrogance. People have told me how nasty I am when displaying behaviour that is either termed pretentious or arrogant. Well, I say this - You do not know me. So the only way you can possibly remark on me (since humans love doing that; they just can't stop themselves, can they?) is terming me that! Again, really sad. It is like when someone talks to Cobain and calls him so damn arrogant that it pisses me off. I am like, you don't even know that he is talking at level 9 and you are at zero perhaps or even far removed from the discussion. Like the time we took JB's trip on facebook, I was just surprised that she just could not come up to our level. Pathetic!
Oh Cobain, let's start fuckin these mongrels; you know it is time.
**********************************************************************
I am immensely scornful of the current media trends in India. The commissioner's dog goes missing and it becomes the breaking news. There was a time it was fucking me up big time. And the sad thing is, intelligent people like Jhoomur Bose fan this horrible shindig. It is like a colossal event in our current times and we need people to voice out. Where are those motherfuckers now? I feel really hopeless when I can not make out the outsiders from those frolicking inside. Just who is who? Fuckin hell, innit! I know these people won't learn unless I get inside and be more verbal than ever. I am already inside not that I was outside. No Cobain, we were never trying to fit in; we just wanted our identities and let ourselves be, which unfortunately has never been allowed. So what do we do? We use the very system that has destroyed us, to destroy every one else. The rules were always there in front of us; so were the moves. We just didn't pick them up then. Now we should and we will. I know when I say there is nothing you can invent anymore because this is the age of improvisation. Nothing exists in the purest, natural form that we could shape. We could however, rethink!
**************************************************************************
I just hate it when told things about my character without any argument or example. It is like, oh look at that lovely sunset. Oh, Kirit, you know you are like this. What? Dude, if you make a point, at least make it correctly. But then, I can never stop people from talking, can I?
Anyhow, the recent developments have been really shocking. It is proven that I am not worthy of a relationship in life. I just broke ties with three girls in the span of a day. The first one had a distance problem, the second was getting too tough to ignore and third and the longest one had almost resulted in a haemorrhage. Lest we forget, there is still the old flame of which I am totally sure that it is not going to work out in the longer run. Wow, I know a lot. See how happy I am. That has to be a killer day because at the end of it, I even ran out of stuff to smoke. Icing on the cake! About the third one, I finally told her that even though I love her and will continue to do so and that there is nothing wrong in that, we'll never realise this daydream of mine. And knowing her, I could take the chance of telling her how much I adore her and it hurts to see another man experiencing the same, albeit a bit more realistically. So, why keep it bumbling inside when you can say and at least feel not that choked. And I did let it out. It has helped me a little and the dissociation will only help it a little more. Obviously, now things won't be the same... not that it is going to make much of a difference. The second girl is like my partner in the teenage wasteland. Frolicking, breathing and alive. But surrealism grins with evil eyes. And don't even talk about the first one. Like it was some sort of flash in the pan, a meteor in the sky and I like a lovefool wished over a dead star. So it came, it happened and it VANISHED!
Ah, that leaves the ol' flame. No, it is not going to happen. I know that. I think I have earned the right to be a bit selfish and think about myself for a change. It is not going to work out because it won't ever.

This is the problem with that higher level of consciousness. Tolerance is made to skyrocket. Courage is given new dimensions, things only people like me can see, not every tom, dick and Jhoomur. Haha! I have even forgotten that the drug peddler exists anymore. I just wonder if he is my reflection or vice-versa.
*********************************************************************
I have decided to draw the list of people I am going to fuck up badly in the coming few years. One of my goals is to send them into oblivion. Have you heard that word, oblivion? It is like... magic. A very potent serum that sends your brain into a state that not many can think of dreaming about. So, here it goes:
1. Gaurav Parasher: That bloke has to have it from me. Like I have remembered all his moves and facial (fucked-up) expressions. One of the people I really want to kill. And soon I will. He deserves it more than anyone else.

******No enemy is worth fighting over Maniac. You know that none of them deserves it, not even Gaurav Parasher.*********

2. Ayesha Sharma: (Are you kidding me K? Her, of all the people?) Yes, she needs it. I mean half the destruction happened after that, didnt it? She ought to be taught a lesson. All these people need to be.
3. Shweta Dudeja: Poison-Ivy! Need I say more? With her, I am going to destroy her very existence, malign it so that no one in her family (I'll destroy them too) can ever dream of saying ill of anyone in the world.

******You are changing K, drastically!**********

4. Colin Fernandes: He needs to understand he is NOT cool, just a plain damn lucky sonofabitch.

********Ha hahah, that is so low standard. Of all the people, COlin! He has not done anything to you, and you know it before I say it. You just hate him, that's ok. I think he shares your sentiment. What's wrong in that? I mean you are willing to give up your great life for an asshole like him. Wow! Some ambition****************
For fuck's sake, I have never given it back to these people. I have never been scornful in my life. I have let my work do that talking, always been the nice guy. You want me to be fucked all the time. Why is it so hard to imagine me being vengeful? What the fuck is wrong in that?
********Do it at your own risk, Kirit. I am with you always. But, something here is just not right. (Because I know Kirit sucks ass at hurting anyone.) Hey, do I remember correctly that you once shared two joints with him?********

5. Arjun Sen: The youngest chap of the lot. He needs to be beaten black and blue.

Oh, my god, it is so fuckin tough looking for adversaries. There are so many names, and after a lot of thinking, these are the names I am coming up with. Imagine.
Oh Yes!

6. Aditya Sinha: That fat ass will be one meaty enemy. By the time I will be ready to fuck him, he would have risen few more levels. But wait, you ludicrous poppinjay. One of the good enemies. Hell yeah!
7. Sonam Kalra, Bubbles Sabharwal, Sita Raina and the Dilli theatrical brigand: They are just too much for me and unless someone like me nails them in their own city in their own line, they will never learn.
8. AB: One person I would really like to fuck and no, it is not Amitabh Bachchan idiots.
9. Aswathy M: How could I ever forget you? Of all the people from Amity, I hate you the most and for all the right reasons. Enough of your attitude babe. You fuckin married fat ass, wait till I get to both you and your husband. I am not sorry if he gets it from me. I would love the fact that because of you, he got nailed too.
10. HIM/HER: I still need a great adversary. Someone who can scare me looking in the eyes. Someone who will never give up and stand tall despite brutal knocks and give one back. Yeah, that is what I need, the strong enemy. I thought of putting COlin there once but deemed him too unworthy of the title. Please God, I need this one!

Now I have a list and a new goal. Hell yeah! This is going to be one hell of a long decade if I were to nail all of them soon. And I don't mind if it all happens at one time.

********** Good luck, if thats what you want from me!************
Whatever!

Self-Indulgence

2008-06-20T21:49:00.000-07:00

There is a moment in the episode Hooping Cranes of Frasier Season 8 that is made up of the stuff that weaves dreams. It is when Niles does a basket from half-court while Seattle Sonics take a break. He nails it! That is what I wish for... the moment where I nail it from far away and a million people are watching, most of them envious (I wish to experience the feeling of knowing someone is jealous of me), and few of those who are close, super excited. It is at that moment destiny is mine and I am the master of my fate. When I thump and say 'BANG! This is mine!' I wish to have that moment once in my life so I can say... that I lived.

**********************************************************

It is a weird time when I do not know how to express. And it is now. There are things happening that I daydreamt, with utmost innocence of accepting the fact that they are never going to come true. But they have and I am so shocked at the sudden boom. It goes back to my theory of every human brain as a sensor and receptor that works on this (cosmic, perhaps) energy that so far has no scientific measurement credential. So it does happen. It is like you are on your eighth drink, as always sitting alone, and wondering that there will be a day when I'll be told this by him/her. You know the stuff that fables are made of. It makes me believe in the mystery life offers... and that most of the times, we just do not pay attention to it. Sad, isn't it? Can you see my grin?

**********************************************************

I have reached a higher level of consciousness that is tremendously frightening and nauseous. It is like I can see things happening in reality before they can actually happen. And I am not sure how to handle it. It is when I can see my daydreams in colour and I fuckin know they are going to come true. The last few months have been spent in isloation, separation (distance) and self-exploration. It is the most refreshing experience, ever. I now have knowledge that is several levels higher than what they were till a year ago. I see things from a stratospheric view like the earth is laid out on a flat bed for me. Wow! Imagine there was a time I kept on asking, 'what is thinking out of the box?' I am not above humans, no I am not God; I am just close to discovering the self, completely, in the matrix!

***********************************************************

Moonstruck: Oh you know the last time I talked to you, it was not a healthy one.
Drug Peddler: Hmmm
M: I was just too fed up of the whole idea mayte. And... I think I burst out loud.
DP: It wasn't noise for me.
?
I do not see things in a worldly light. I have given up on that. Because everything is fake, justified, and amazingly monochromatic. These shouts, cries and hoarse voices are nothing but faint echos for me.
But weren't you offended?
Should I be? Was that your intention? Arrogance is never without a reason and bubbling sub-conscious. To answer your question, no I was not.
Hmm
Tell me, how do you feel?
...
You have the answers don't you. You have all the beauty and all you care about now is yourself without any benefit in mind. Bitter sweet symphony. When its sugar, it just tastes so sweet. There are no more insecurities because you know...
You have found yourself. :-) I feel like crying, buckets, and jumping with joy in my teenage wasteland. I feel like... I am free. (crying) I am where I thought I'll never be. I can not believe when I hear people telling me they love me. That I am likeable. It's amazing, like when I first learnt how to walk, or talk, or open my eyes.
Ah, the proverbial truth has come out for you moonstruck. I am glad it happened sooner. It had to happen, dreams do come true. They are dreamt with a reason. Boom!
Boom! (Thanks DP)

**********************************************************

A string strummed and a riff wasted

2008-05-23T12:04:00.000-07:00

It is strange when I walk and learn there is everyone around, but no one close. As the eyes catch a glimpse of the last shining streak of the evening sky, there appears to be a piercing silence that comes out of chaos... I wake up when others are sleeping. I pay fine on books I do not read. I spend time on money that is not mine. I open doors that heard no knock. I looked around and found that small flower in the resplendent bed; there was cadmium, burnt sienna and dark cochre and some purple. Oh, how I fell in love with something that withered away the next morning.
Right about now, funk soul brother!
***********************************************
I just heard a funny thing when Intellectual Goddess replied to one of my questions. The question was if she was given a chance to change two things about me to make a better person out of moi, what would they be; to which she replied that one was my narcissism (yes, yes, yes, I am so happy to hear that) and if I snore, I shouldn't be doing that. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!
***********************************************
Have you ever been in a situation where you got into knowing it would be tough to find a way out? I do it everyday and it is such a beautiful feeling. It makes me feel human at any moment in my life.
************************************************
Pearl once remarked how it is so amazing to have heartaches! It indeed is. There are few things explaining this phenomenon, which would otherwise be viewed as forgotten or at least advised as one. Silly specie we humans are. Something happened two days ago after finishing three spliffs in few hours with the smokin buddy here. It turned out that I was sitting as lonely as ever around some lake (I am a water sign with a strong affinity for the blue). It could also mean that one of my greatest heartaches is around a big lake (wink, wink). If I ain't mistaken, there was a joint around and I was pretty happy until...
In a flash I heard one of my buddies remarking how there is a girl whom I know very well. Before I could even manage to turn around, there came this little one who held my face in her soft hands and kissed me on the lips saying "I am sorry for all the misunderstanding Kirit." The earth shook, sky had lit up and blah blah blah, all the platitudes you can think of could be remarked here. It was her - Ay. What a bloody fantastic feeling! I mean there she was, the way I would have preferred her - unkempt, naturally dressed, eyes without the dominating kohl (she always looked lovely without kaajal) and the innocence that made me fall in love with her. The last I saw of her was not a pleasant sight because of the fleeting glimpse and the hatred that comes alongwith... much like those friends that were needed in the first place. But this is not about the past; it is about the dream...
"I am sorry Kirit. Sorry for all the misunderstanding," as tears kissed those lips that said this, all I could see were those gleamy eyes (I distinctly remember the sun shining from the right hand side), and the childlike apology that deserves all the attention. My reply was not far from my conscious brain dreaming the scene; it was never about 'who is wrong where' but 'what went wrong where?' that deserved importance. I was too dumbstruck to respond, but then I was immensely ecstatic. And I knew it was all a dream. This is the best part about (day)dreaming, innit? Damn, I think me and V had finished at least 3 joints the night before.
It is ironic, the whole situation.
But I loved those 45 minutes during which this fantasy came alive... well, sepia-tinted indeed.
*******************************************

Shrieks and shivers

with the plucks,

induced by knocks

lies a lizard

rolling. Shocked

as if

were…

running along dark lanes

shadows lurk as

they are lofted by streaks

mirror gaze

that would’ve ironed the dragon

caught

a string strummed

***********************************************

I had a terrible circle of life experience. A few weeks back, I was shooting someone's film for her submissions. Yes, it was kind of strange but allowed, it seems; I just hope the "young turk" does not sacrifice my name in the credit roll. My experience was riddled with subtle indignant expressions that somehow never got the point across. It was at that moment I saw the charming lady they call life sitting on the highest throne and smirking at me. The similarities were there, with their own disturbances. In the episode 'Kissing Cousin', Niles recollects his growing years in medical school and remarks upon the daunting nature of 20-somethings. I saw two faces of tis phenomenon. First, in the form of my partner in crime who, with her lack of knowledge and expertise, and the pinch of disdain that she sprinkled off and on without reasoning. The picture was completed when:

1. I had a sense of deja-vu (or so I say to avoid the harshness on everyone including meself).

2. I discovered that I was at a much higher level of the same behavioural pattern albeit with a much more intelligent and modest demeanour.

But here in lies the problem.

Sadly, there is no scope for any learning left for her. The other day I was surprised to see that a man who has been in the journalism industry for over four years was seeking her help/eye on his script. I certainly was not happy at the sight. You see, the problem with the self-proclaimed young turks is their complete lack of self-awareness. That is the biggest problem. Worse, if the person has an ounce of intelligence, which is true in this case, the whole picture comes out really ugly. So, I decided to severe the ties and redirect my focus on the highly starved dissertation. What saddened me was that all my attempts (I have never been so calm and patient with someone whose insolence and opinions almost made me tear my hair out) to help her concentrate her energy failed. But, as always, I took refuge in my mother's wisdom. Like mummy said, we can not expect others to come up to our levels just as we can not step down to theirs. So I was, at the end of the story, not that sad.

But, the riff was indeed wasted...

Things people say...

2008-04-15T14:37:00.000-07:00

Intelligent words from Job 38:2
Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge?

It is difficult to teach people how to talk. They talk, and without any considerable idea of a good conversation or remark. I must not forget to add their impeccable taste of English as a language and its rape on a massive level, especially by We, the people from India. We hail MS Word as the bible for spellings and presume words to be present in the Oxford Dictionary based on the Gates' creation. But then, the supreme lexicon is quite disappointing for its induction of words like lungi. It is difficult to stop people from using bad language or worse, being unapologetic about their sins. Yes, it is a sin to insult a language, be it English, Hindi, Urdu or French. When a fellow blogger decided to pen a new blog [even she won't know the number of (useless) blogs she has on the Net], I could only feel sorry for my mother tongue. But this is about Ingliss, which is a very phunny languazze. I do not feel offended or perplexed (or baffled) by the accent, unintentionally incorrect pronunciation; I do however feel like slapping the other person for horrendously putting a noose around the words and swinging them as if they were suicidal barbie dolls. Ok, bad example... but a pertinent one considering the imbeciles behaving around.

1. I am freezing my ass off: How do you do that? Somebody has to unravel this mystery for me. Any human being, in the physical universe we all exist in, is covered from head to toe and the first place he/she would feel cold are feet, nose, ears, cheeks, eyes, palms and more specifically fingers. Then of all the anatomical entities, why the bloody ass? More importantly, how does one freeze a body part that once - in infancy - had the most sensitive skin but is now covered in at least two layers of fabric on an average day. It is just plain stupid.

2. I am shitting bricks: Ahaan! What in the hell did you have for a meal and exactly how would you do that? Why could you just not say that you are scared/petrified/intimidated (each of which, in the broader sense, though mean the same, their contextual usage and specific meaning differs largely)? Another one of those phenomenons that are difficult to be described. Quite frankly, I do not intend to unravel this one!

3. Whatever!: Notice how the first three points of this post are all massively (ab)used by women at large. The last woman in my life had me literally tearing my nerves because of this one word. You can not imagine the damage this one incurs. It is a force unleashed on the male of the species from which they have no escape apart from an exile to the Congo forest or a desert.
EG: Man: Are you angry with me?
Woman: Whatever (You are doomed motherfucker!)

This is the tip of the iceberg - the floating mass of ice that is so deep that by the time a MAN has been down under, he is already a mummy. Try and tell (do NOT attempt to correct) a woman her mistake, and no matter how much she is in the wrong, the monosyllabic reply would be staring you right in the face. Women have to accept certain things:
A) They were not born the fair sex.
B) They were definitely not born intelligent.
C) They were the ones born with a stone/cold heart. God just gave them the bounty called tears and the wonderful gift - the art of acting.
D) They were never born articulate. They tend to learn this at a very later stage and even if they do, the usage is not without prejudice, bias and bitchiness.
There is a girl on my course. She has been a journalist, but then a lot of us have been. Her language is wonderfully amateurish, thought process immensely screwed, articulation at an all time perigee (and she does not intend to improve it; instead, like most Indians, prefers to be an ostrich and use the word in conversation right now) and ignorance is her forte. Her mythology is mixed up with mehndi, she is far removed from anything Indian and I hate it when she tries to impress people with her (disastrous) knowledge of our homeland... but, without a doubt, her irritational quotient (IQ) is a massive 2000 because of her usage of the word WHATEVER! Seriously women, please wake up. This is the only word apart from FUCK that can be used in every form of grammar known to mankind. (There are few women who are never going to be in conversation with this kind of a post because I would want to live. tee hee)

4. That's so sweet/He or she is a sweetheart: Oh for god's sake! I'll choke if I hear one of those sugary platitudes. This is what my mind says every time I hear these words. Earlier, I used to have a problem with humans not being expressive; and I still have the same problem. They just do not know when and how to express. Words like "Whatever", "Sweet", "Cute", "Awww", "Fuck", "Nice" and "Interesting" are the best substitutes for anything. If a person is sweet, I can see that as much as the one uttering the words. Then why the time-wasting exercise of highlighting that fact. For those who can see, will see, and those who can not, will never see. So spare me the incessantly excessive usage of these words.

5. It's interesting: Obviously, because:
a) You were unable to understand the thing at all, in which case, you should be honest that you do not know how to give the feedback.
b) You really do not know anything about expressing, which can be forgiven... but only till a point.
c) You are trying to be nice and sweet, which is again alright and can be understood. It is difficult being honest; might just unintentionally hurt someone. So use this phrase.
d) You are so stupid that this is the only feedback you have ever picked up from the television or films. You are so lame that argument and articulation were far removed from your intelligence. In this case, I would love to slap you hard and kick you out.
This is one of the most commonly heard phrases. People use it at the drop of a hat. And one can so easily make out the buffoon from the bored. The ones whose eyes roll as if they were high on a hallucinatory drug or the ones who go hmmmm, ummm, you know, ummm, but you know. Fuck you man, go take a lesson in appraisals or just go take any intelligence lessons. The ones who have a reason to use this phrase will not add words to substantiate their two-word feedback; they will genuinely have a conclusive remark or an observation that would have struck a chord or triggered a thought. Again, over here you can make out the idiots/fakers from the perceptive.

6. It's nice: Read point 5 and substitute "It's interesting" with this.

7. I partly agree with you: Ok. Exactly, which part would that be? Nine out of 10 people will never have the answer to this one. The majority is the one that never looks directly into your eyes or if they do, that is to show they are sleeping with their eyes open. It is the most common escape from any discussion. Normally, it moves in sync with the two points mentioned just above and often it ends with the sentence - But then, to each his own. Everyone has their own opinion. - which quite often displays their irritability quotient (IQ) blatantly.

8. Excessive usage of more words to highlight intelligence:
"In my humble and conscientious expression of aroused feelings of appreciation towards the Herculean effort of the central character, whose lionhearted attempt of depicting the horrifying tragedy of the weakened spirit sets a precedence, it is worth applauding that such a brave heart exists amongst all of us." WHAT THE FUCK? And this was a simplified expression that I just made up as an example of the horrors of modern language. George Orwell has written a brilliant piece on the Politics of language called English. You can read it here. Why can we not say things without complicating them beyond the sphere of a man's intelligence? I do not know who deduced that a human uses only 8% of his brain because these farts wreck their brain nerves in order to say such idiotic sentences. Why say "to put up with" when you can say tolerate? Why show someone that you have read the thesaurus while others were living their life? But the most irritable are those who use words (and the heavy ones) without a thought. They are the worst. The other day, I remembered how Ashok Sinha from my journalism school once remarked "The course got bifurcated into two in the year 2003."

A man thinks that by mouthing hard words, he understands hard things

Herman Melville

9. Different-Different/Small-Small/Big-Big: Just how can one be so stupid to translate words from Hindi to English in this daft manner? This is the most common mistake committed by people from the sub-continent. When something is different, it is different; why add a duplicate with a hyphen? There is no point. The other day I heard someone remarking "You know, these are the small-small things I do not like." What nonsense! Just because you say the Hindi equivalent twice does not mean you could do the same in English. The girl I was referring to earlier makes these mistakes so often that I do not even feel like talking to her in Queen's language at all. "There were different-different colours"; if no two colours are similar, it is obvious each one of them is different from the other, so logically this is not a good usage. It is in fact pathetic.

10. Contextually incorrect words: By far, the most annoying aspect of incorrect usage of English language. We tend to use contradicting words/phrases just because their broader sense is remotely related. Alliteration aside, I am hinting at two things:
a) Using a word on the basis of just reading it in a thesaurus without thinking what it actually implies.
b) Joining two words that look connected but are disjoint in reality and, well, worse than an oxymoron combination.

For instance, I used the example of scared/intimidated/petrified earlier to highlight this point as a teaser. Petrified means scared, yes; but, it does not imply you can use this to show you were scared. The word describes the emotion of turning numb or into a stone because of fear. It can not be used when you slipped on a staircase and were scared as to what happened. Someone I know used this word in the exact manner described.
Another example. A self-proclaimed intelligent man in his article "Musical Mountain" (God, what an abominable alliteration and horrible adjective) misuses a word in one of the concluding paragraphs. The sentence reads - If you are the hyperactive sort, there is plenty of hiking, rock climbing and rappelling to be done. Somebody has to tell him the meaning of the word "hyperactive".
But would he listen, I doubt it! He is now the features editor of an intelligent magazine that has no sense whatsoever, but it is popular and COOL - another one of those things people say!

Calvin: Sometimes when I'm talking, my words can't keep up with my thoughts. I wonder why we think faster than we speak.
Hobbes: Probably so we can think twice.

The A-list of B-grade things

2008-03-31T10:52:00.000-07:00

You know you are few years away from getting "older and experienced" when:

1. One of the B Grade Models who became Mrs. World suddenly looks decent to you.
2. You pick up 85% hot women and try to tell the world they are 150% hot and convince the world that there is something special about them that the world does not realise.
3. Every time you have chest pain, you just hope it is indigestion and not something else.

4. All cricketers who played while you used to watch cricket are all commentators, managers, businessowners, franchisee's or just plain retired shmucks with cigars and wheelchairs, or just plain unheard of blokes.

5. Suddenly the older seasons of Frasier feel good.

6. You don’t enjoy discotheques any more. You certainly can’t stand those friggin college kid rock concerts.

7. Rock music sounds like the height of metallic BS and immediately gives u a headache which only clinical sedation can cure. (Holds true for a lot of them, not for few of us)

8. You have a nose and sense to identify "that kind of ******". You know this kind of guy is good for nothing, knows nothing, just survives on very good luck but in the long term achieves nothing. You can predict what happens in his life. You can predict how he will talk and the way he talks and projects himself itself lets you know what kind of guy he is and what happens to him. This guy is harmless, has mediocre fame, normally can never provide a solution to anything he even honestly tries to solve, and is always seen hitting on a bunch of good for nothing women. Reminds one of the unusually defined, ignorant, self conscious and pretentious mid nineties social order of the big metropolis we are a part of.

9. You can predict how people will react and suddenly feel that you are beyond what people a few years younger than you, or what some of your peers are craving for.

10. A lot of things seem to be been there done that.

11. You have seen any darned inspirational sport movie even before you see it for the first time.

12. The people who were always going to be sitting there are no longer sitting there.

13. You can identify the kind of women which Tim Allen would have checked out and dated, but they are still a few years old for you to be considering.

14. You can identify if a 30 plus person looks good for her age, and whether she must have been hot in her time.

15. It is now a golden privilege to consume ham/salami cold cuts, pork rolls, pizza, phags, and liquor. You can still consume them as much as you want but if you don’t take care of yourself now, you will have health problems ten years down the line.

16. You realise that the previous generation's thinking in today’s context, despite any additional input given to them, is clearly outdated.

17. You suddenly start appreciating movies from 80s and 90s and applying their principles to current life. Wall Street, The Firm, Lethal Weapon 1, 2 and 3, etc.

18. You suddenly start appreciating films which intersperse visually arresting and modernised effects with old school stories, themes and narrative techniques. (300, and Sin City).

19. You suddenly find sense in grabbing a beer, a marlboro, some chicken wings, a pack of cards and watching all the cop / mob movies in the world (Training Day, The Corruptor, The Departed). Nothing is more relaxing than a pizza loaded with ham, salami, chicken, and this kind of movie on the side.

20. You suddenly find the really good blondes really hot.

21. You suddenly find hot extras in movies which you last saw ten years ago and are watching again now. Surprising you did not notice them then.

22. You suddenly find you are giving advice on a lot of things to a lot of people.

23. Suddenly the simple things such as having a regular sleep and exercise schedule are out of the question for you.

24. You have to have a local pub hangout. Your own retreat (Morrison, Morrison, Morrison) where everything makes sense to you, the place where you come to drink and relax and get away from the world.

25. You suddenly appreciate serials like Titus and How I Met your Mother because you are too fed up of Friends and Seinfeld. You last saw them six years ago. Even though you saw each episode only once, if it ever comes on again, you just can’t stand to watch it because you can literally predict every facial expression and every dialogue and remember the ten episodes before and after this one. Good God, was this what you were learning while you were in school?

26. You are no longer driven as much by the want of a career, as much as you are by the want of a better life.

27. Science Fiction, Star Wars, Star Trek, and all the obsessions of the past are things you have not had time for since ten years. But if you do get a chance you indulge in these things, and suddenly find a lot more meaning in them. You might not watch this stuff anymore but you make sure that today your DVD collection has rare collectors edition versions bought from abroad for every darned thing you ever used to or wanted to watch, with a dedicated shelf which is the neatest and most dedicated shelf after the shelves dedicated to the Gods. You still hold fond memories of that Sunday when you saw three star trek films and finished six cans of beer.

28. You no longer have the patience to wait for and watch one episode of one serial every week, six months after its entire season gets over in the US. Today you wait till the series releases on DVD, and buy the DVD set of each damn season and make effective use of your credit card. No need to download shit overnight from the net now, since u got a credit card which recently had an extended limit.

29. Hell it has been twenty years since 60% of the sentences you make consisted of the f*** word, in any form or tense.

30. The places which used to be so amazing, are no longer that amazing.

31. You realised that the great time you had in college and some of the amazing times you had, were not pre-cursors to additional stuff like that throughout your life. In fact they might just be some of the most amazing moments which you will remember for the rest of your life.

32. One look at you makes it obvious that you used to be good looking and a real babe magnet. But today you are descending into such horrible shape that you just hope you don’t run into someone you once knew. Looks like ten years from now you will probably have to extra tip waitresses to probably even smile at you.

33. You realise that you are fortunate enough to have made some great decisions four-five years ago. Despite the considerable absence of knowledge and experience at that time!

34. You are already taking pride in things which you feel you have done well throughout your life!

35. Its all about guns, blondes, Vegas, money, outlandish fantasies, the good life, pork rolls, cold cuts, pizzas, cubans, marlboros, budweiser, heineken, a bottle of scotch, sport, anti-acidity pills, the correct set of people and so on.....................after a f*****ed up week.

COURTESY: The great Sithlord Aximuz.

Side business

2008-03-25T09:57:00.000-07:00

Cobain: What I do not understand is why do you have to be nice to be everyone?

It is indeed a difficult task; there are no rewards and there is ample stress, at times. My old man is nice to everyone, that is the reason he is so badly hurt, by everyone. At half his age I am already racing ahead, it seems. When a friend complained for the umpteenth time, 'why do nice guys finish last?', I could just not understand the complaint. Nice is synonymous with last because there is no other category or slot in the "list". It is a universal fact. The world lives a stereotypical life and there is no reason to grumble on being last, and most of all, being nice. But I understand his pain.

Drug Peddler reminded me of the time 4 years ago. "Do you really think you can handle being nice, dude?" I am passive; ok I have become passive. "Does that help?" Look, who is talking! Or maybe he also wants an answer.

I had met this great guy called Gautam, at Kris's house. No, that was Teerth's new year night. He is inarguably the happiest man on the planet. He seems to be content with everything. He does not have great standards of happiness nor is he... He is so nice that I am always unable to describe him in words. And it has been 3 years since I last saw him. I bet he is still that same ol' nice chap. God bless him.

"I'll critic films and television shows as a side business." When I first heard this, the belligerence reminded me of my old days. And just how stupid did I feel after realising that. Although, I must add that I am not that big an idiot as this young "turk". There is this girl in my college, who is pursuing television journalism. She is this young idiot, all of 21 years of age, with zero experience and hardly any knowledge. My first impression of her was not very good, and it was not bad either. But since I hardly go by my first impressions, as I (thankfully) usually prove them wrong, I decided to listen to her. I love this exercise since childhood; proving myself wrong over first impressions. It makes me feel alive in a better way than others. Anyway, the girl who seems from a middle class background has suddenly started showing those fancy lip-smacking gestures. Like those big HIs, and a smile that vanishes as soon as you move away and most of all, the hollow warmth. She has already done that with one of her previous friends who is now my best, well almost, friend here in Goldsmiths. I am surprised because this girl knows I am a scribe, and that too from Delhi and not only am I well versed with this exercise but I am fairly experienced with the art, if I may call it so. Now, she has that air, and I somehow do not understand why people fall for this. And so I really was proven wrong when I thought this girl has some potential and decency. There is always that type, the pseudo type, that deliberately does things in order to be different. I do not understand, different than what. So my good wishes are with this Barkha Dutt (Imagine, what ambition!) in making and I hope she fits perfectly. Oh, do I remember correctly but her current best friend is the one who she called plastic when she first moved here? [God, I am such a bitch! (Chuckles) I'm loving it.] On her remark about this critic business, I wonder what is stopping her considering we have people like Nikhat/Khaled and that previously-good-but-now-inversely-snobbish Jabberwock. When asked "Why do you think Jodha Akbar is not a good film?", there were answers that would put a smile on the above mentioned luminaries' faces. Some people fail me like anything. UGH!

Oh yes, but the question still remains unanswered. I believe it is important to be human and in order to be so, it is absolutely essential to be nice. The trouble is we are humans and we expect, only a smile in return, which we do not get. And that is the reason I understand the pain. There is no harm in being nice; the others do the needful.

freedom

2008-03-19T07:46:00.000-07:00

And so it turns out that it is a world of freedom where choices are exercised by an influential exercise of the choice makers. Everything in the world has become a brand, even being cool. Oh no, that is a state of being, say few, actually all the, fellow specie beings. All we have to do is that we don't belong to anyone and we are free in our own worlds. But then that has taken the shape of a ghastly fear and lack of trust on every other being. This is another discussion and I am not willing to go there as it is pessimism and cynicism at the maximum.

My idea of freedom is synonymous with Mary Jane's; there is a bit of a difference. She once said, on the topic of the significant other, where she mentions the world where "one" exists with "another" in their utopia. The whole idea is when I exist with everything peacefully in the teenage wasteland. That is indeed one utopia and I do not know if it will ever get out of the papers I once scribbled the script "My Utopia". That was something else.

I had an idea. Imagine if we were to wake up and lose complete sense of language. We can speak not that we are mute, but we do not know how to. What are the words, letters of mannerisms, no one can figure that out. Let alone the dialects and different languages. It all crumbles down and voila! Then takes true communication. We'll have to trust every other for survival. Because we can not live without speaking but we just do not fucking know HOW! Ha ha, that is some stoned shit.

Have we ever noticed how the girls of today are wearing low waist jeans that lower with every comfortable sitting position and yet, they keep on stretching their ultra-small t-shirts/tops/whatever-names-do-we-have-in-women's-fashion-for-the-upper-portion to cover their ugly butt cracks, thongs and whatever skin they have there? People tell me I write long sentences for no good; I wonder what made them say that?

Every living being is born unique. We are not only unable to realise that but help others not realise it either. This is the reason the world has words like stress, anxiety, frustration, depression and acid, lsd, hash. Hush, hush!

The glass slipped

2008-03-16T02:51:00.000-07:00

And so it turns out that it is becoming increasingly difficult for me to have a good sleep. This has got to be the most gruelling one month that I have come across. Today as I woke up... I have changed my sleeping cycle in order to have a different method of living everyday. That did not sound right. I just changed my schedule. I wake up early after just six hours of sleep as I used to at one point of time. But then, this cycle is not without its pitfalls. One of the reasons I did so was to get out of the mode of useless dreams and tiresome sleep that has been plaguing me for quite some time.

Ironically. it has become more of a mentally tiring exercise. As I slipped into the deep slumber of sleep in the wee hours of the morning, it transported me to a future that was anything like the future; I have long believed that there is nothing futuristic. Maybe, that became the fulcrum of the dream. Ah, the dream.
How often I have had those visions of me being the ultimate loser in one go and across the years? I can not seem to recall one such... there was this deadly vision of me being the drug peddler in reality. That was horrifying as I came across the successful and the not so successful but where everyone had a greater degree of success as compared to me, because I was my alter ego - the good for nothing.

I have heard this term twice in my life. Mohit Soni said this when he told me about the opinion of our classmates back in school. I so hate that phase and the more I try and live with it and move on, the tougher it gets to get rid of it. Abhishek laid the second blow on my head when Amity was happening. And on both the occasions, I did not get the gravity of the issue that led people to believe or express such a harsh opinion. And if my fears are proven correct, I would very soon hear it the third time.

I have always had the inclination to master my fate and not be its victim as said by Kelsey 'Frasier' Grammer. Those words of his - I think it's your duty to overcome what you inherit in life. It's the David Copperfield line: Am I going to be master of my fate, or its victim?' I'm not gonna be its victim, though I've felt victimized, a lot - resound every time I am going through this phase.

Today's dream had a weird time-space problem. After a long time, I was able to bridge the time gap and put all the people from different time-frames in one go. It all started out with a healthy reunion back in Jaipur. Lately, I have been thinking a lot about the city and my school days and of course, the people around it. It is a school event and as I take one good look in the mirror, there are no signs of age, except with the weird clothes - the brown corduroy jacket and those ol' jeans - adding to the disdain in my look. There were people from those days of uniform and uniformly present were all those from Amity, Delhi and Goldsmiths. It was like I was somehow deliberately putting these people in there to confirm my poor condition. And they did, in their own ways. Of all the people, I guess there were just two 'friends' present - Varun and Paulino. But they did not seem to help either; every time they appeared was either to leave me amidst a running chore or just vanish when I needed to say what happened in the previous scene. They were just being themselves; they had no idea this is a dream and that I am putting them in, like characters in my dreamy tale.
The faces that I distinctly remember were of those that for long have not mattered. Tanmay Patni, Atika Shah, Versha Singhania, Priyanka Halgali (where did she pop out from or maybe I thought it is her. Damn my good memory of faces and names. She was too tall to be that girl anyway.), Varun, Paulino, Himanshu Goyal, and many more that I can not seem to recollect at this moment. The fact worth giving importance is that everyone was constantly on the move when I was stationary and still when I was doing the moving. I had no control over the dream and yet I was able to put all the elements I needed. There was fame and with a, weird, nostalgic tone. There was alcohol and ample of it (hee hee). But each time, I tried to go a level up (it was a multi-storey setting where everything was taking place), the doors were either closed or those inside had left. From the look of me going here and there, it did not seem a good thing at all; it was as if I was moving in and out of stages of life in a transition that was not smooth, but slippery. And the fable was no Cinderella either.

At the end I was deserted, left alone in the concrete structure with no one even on the roads to give me company. I was confused whether it is dawn or dusk because the setting did not allow any time frame to set in. Yes, the continuum was bent to that extent. The icing on the cake - the jeans were split wide open. There was no way I could even walk as they were torn to such an extent. That immaculately exemplified the "light and darkness" syndrome I have been trying to emote through photographs for a long time. The structure was lit beautifully on one half and the other half was dim with some local blokes trying to fix a miniature laser show. It was as if lasers had pervaded class barriers beautifully and they had come out with these small versions which were using the power of senses. It seemed to work with the operator moving his hand over it as if there were a crystal ball! It is like someone playing the theremin.
While on the outside, there was darkness with dim street lamps that were very few in number and not that illuminated. If it were morning why did it not appear so and if it was getting dark, why were there no people. The stillness of night has always intrigued me; one can never tell the hours.

But then, I was alone and it was not a good sleep as I got tired of the dream and woke up. I am not liking a lot of facts about myself lately. There is no definitive way for me to define the whole of it. It is like as if few of my worst fears came out in a mellowed-down funny manner. That does not sound good either. Cinderella had her fable and I had my nightmare.
Thank god I do not feel suicidal anymore as I used to at one point of time. But then... I do not feel alive either!

Diamonds and rust

2008-02-27T12:46:00.000-08:00

And so it turns out that my memories are churning in the rust again. I am not liking this; sitting naked in the bathroom, drinking rum and choosing to stay away from everything is not how I intended this wake up call to be. This is hard man! This brings back all the memories I do not need at all; I was not born a loser after all yaaar!
Tears wept, some dry
other linger,
as they drip
unknowingly
and
uncontrolled
Cheers
Wolf will be back in some time!

Walking in the shadows

2008-02-24T19:08:00.000-08:00

And so it turns out that I can't catch my breath amidst a dead storm. The rigours of living up are slowly catching up with each other within me. This is the least comforting situation I find myself in considering my current disposition of the observer. There is a physical being and then there is the mental one. However, none of them is outside the minimalist mode of action. Three weeks ago, when it was time to wake up, I had thought hard about doing so. Drug Peddler said it is going to be a tough task for both of us; and now it is. What he wants is unable to be implemented all the time and his character is overpowering for survival.
The sidewalk is not a good place to be all the time esp when there is the urge to come out of it. This is risky business... And I'd rather die young than live till my fullest without knowing the others who I think should know me as well. The other day Sush said about something going wrong on my side. Sassy has had those problems since a long time.
It is difficult for me to tell people that I am coming out of hibernation finally and my newfound demeanour is the most misguiding for them all. Sometime in the not so distant past, there was a call to cool down and relax. Absorb the world as it moves and be one with the flow. For an impatient soul, that is not a advisable preposition. Yet, it was accepted. When few of the peers here bask in the glory of their 'cool' lives, present and past inclusive, I just tend to smile, and as I have always said - I'll smile at that, and for reasons more than one. :-)
With every passing day, the desire burns hotter. The breakthrough is nearing its finale. Or the road is laid out; even if it is not, it would be laid. That is the kind of confidence I have been waiting for - the intimidating, in your face kinds. When I know it is going to happen and I see the future even before it has already happened. Those three years of sleeping with eyes open are about to take their own trip now. It is no longer the time of active inactivity or walking where faces are dark.

As cool as it gets

2008-02-17T14:00:00.000-08:00

And so it turns out that things have not really changed; they don't wish to, it seems. There is nothing judgemental coming out here; that is already mentioned in the preface to this series of "And so it turns out..."
Back in school there were always guys who are cool, guys who are not cool and those who are neither there nor here. Each one of these specie, especially the first one, takes on an obnoxious character that resides with them for the rest of the lives. But this first category exert maximum influence without them knowing it. They appear to be the coolest all the time. And they take upon themselves to be so wherever they are. There are few of them here; and my disdain is pretty much evident. One of them just conceived a new plan to have 'partying' in the culinary section of our residences. Aptly titled or not, the event draws a lot of attention. Now, is it with envy or pure disgust that I write this? Neither.
Now I am the outsider who is like Archie - always in the middle of the things. I only observe without being noticed; I see all the Reggies having fun being cool all the time. As Cobain said it brilliantly, it is us who are the outsiders, always trying to fit in. And this is one of the reasons why Kirit has merged with the drug peddler. That is more comforting than being an outsider for no reason.
It is clear that the distinctions people grew up with while they were preparing to be 'humans' back in school, are carried forward here as well. It becomes evident who is with whom considering they make the first impressions so damn well (no matter how screwed they are in reality) that there is no space for new impressions to set in. But, the moon is out. And tomorrow is the lunar eclipse. Moonstruck maniac will be in a heightened state of excitement. His company is out there in the world looking upon the specie with smile. Latency is such a pure thing. I'm cool Cobain, I definitely think we have it in us to be cool. It is just a matter of looking at it differently.

And so it turns out...

2008-02-17T13:21:00.001-08:00

That I am not a good person after all, has little effect on anyone including me. The definition of I, them, him/her, others is nothing more than just a farce that is devoid of any intelligent quotient. These are fluid concepts that change as per the chapters of time. Now that is where I fail to understand the disappearance of old judgements and appearance of new ones. Personal nature is a composite function of entities around, there is nothing personal about it. The word comes into play when absorption and questioning start happening.
It has taken me time to merge with my ultimate alter-ego, the drug peddler. He was the voice for sometime and now there is no distinction between the two of us. Now, I just sit by the road and observe. The response time is highly flexible and so are the responses. Actually they are quite laconic. The friday night clubbing helped a lot. I do not have any memory and it was actually a good time. Partying with rich Indian kids in an upmarket South Kensington club was just the dose I needed. Ha ha!
I feel good that everything looks conclusive to me and there are very few things about humans that I need to explore any further. Honestly, there is nothing that I can think of right now. It is within me that everything exists and I am omnipresent with a trace here or there in everyone. I have made friends who would be with me till we depart; and there are others who have been there and it is because of that interaction that I yam what I yam. Wow, blow me down!
So that's all folks! The drug peddler shall continue with his observation.

The ugly duckling

2008-01-03T01:57:00.001-08:00

Ramesh's stall was the haunt for more than one ideas floating in the sky. Located in one of the most busy shady lanes of the Jaipur of the days of yore; yes, I am that old by a certain yardstick. The hometown had, at least till the time it was not "malled", few places that one could safely sit and drink without any interruption... or distraction. The railway track behind the busiest mall at that time, the underbridge on JLN Marg and Ramesh's stall to name a few. I could imagine a certain Romeo & Juliet hiding behind a certain bush or wall-like structure. But this is not a good post so do not imagine nostalgia. Of course the underlying theme or the platform for this one is indeed nostalgia but the story is more important given something that happened last night.
I was sitting with one of the girls who is a good friend. There was something important that she had to discuss and was pretty grave a situation. Promise is what keeps me from divulging the details.
From nowhere, I made a small point - You know (friend) I am not one of those sexy people.
Girl: Yes Kirit, you are not sexy, I am sorry but you are not.
K: Yes I just said that. But then we are not discussing me, we are discussing them.

I like my friends for they do not hesitate to talk to me the way I prefer. But then I started wondering is that one of the reasons people don't talk to me. That is just flinging arrows in the dark dust, often a self-indulgent exercise but at times crippling the mind with the thought of being unsexy!

Anyway...

Let me recount a story that made me sit up and love myself all the more. One of those many anecdotes I am carrying with me and rarely speak unless shaken. Penny knows that bit very well.

So that day, Ramesh's father was taking care of the stall. Fondly referred to as "tau" (uncle in English), he was a laugh riot because of his dialect and histrionics. Once many a people caught him verbally assaulting a dog as the poor creature had nicked a matthee (a thick cookie). Tau love dogs so he could not have hit him. But he struck a Thor pose with his spatula high in his hand and hurling abuses at the rate of 4.5 every 2 seconds while the scared canine just stared at him. So, on the road, Tau trying to be a menace, devilish fella hurling abuses at the mortal soul down below besides his feet trying to make sense of whether he should run or stay or eat the damn matthee is one of the best live cartoons I have ever seen.

OH THE STORY OF THAT DAY

Sorry for telling you the stories of Tau the great! Yes, that day was different. I just had a fight with my then girlfriend called Prajakta. It was not her but one of those ugly friends that every girl has. Ugly, devilish and the one who keeps on asking, "I do not know how or why does she like you?" She said something that annoyed me. This was the time I had gotten rid of the flab and fat. From 88 kgs in school to 72, I was pretty darn slim and could wear anything now. And I had done this, to an extent, so that I have a wider acceptance than what was bestowed upon me by the others. I was so stupid! But more stupid was this girl who told me, bluntly, that it was out of pity that Prajakta had said yes to me. I, by definition, am a big loser, average looking and most importantly, totally unsexy and uncool [sic].

Now my reactions to statements like these are nothing more than bouts of extreme silence which kill me. There are various situations I imagine in my head with different voices, all trying to create a big chaotic confusion. And so I retreat. Where? I could not go home and surely couldn't see my friends at GT. So I head for the theka (wine shop), buy myself 3 beers, and head for the railway track. Not satisfied, I go back home in a dizzy state, albeit a quiet one. (I have a bad habit of talking a lot when I am drunk/dizzy/high)

The next morning was a pleasant one; the mud was still damp because of the 6am showers. And there were my favourite clouds - white with patches of grey - playing hide and seek with the blue sky that appears all the more blue after rains. I said, this might uplift my mood and head out with Jenny (my diary) to the tea stall. No college!

I ask for a kadak (strong) adrak chai (ginger tea) and a matthee to start with as I open a fresh page of the journal with the new black sharp-tip pen I had bought on the way. And my mind asks questions that have no definite answers. What is beauty? What is sexy and cool? What makes one acceptable? And just what the fuck is unsexy? YOU, KIRIT, YOU!

Hmmm, ok, that works but I still do not understand why was I made like one?

Tau: Badee baatein likh raha hai. Kay ho gaya?

(Writing big words, hunh? What happened?)

Me: Nahee bas aise hee. College jaane kaa man nahee thaa aur aaj mausam achcha hai, isliye.

(Nothing. just like that. It is a good day and I did not wish to go to the college.)

Tau: Oye tu kavi-type cheezein mat kar, padhai kar, paise kamaa aur matthee khaa.

(Listen, don't do things like those bloody poets. Study, earn money and eat cookies.)

Tau had a point but this post is about sex appeal or beauty. And let me tell you the connection - the molestation episode in Mumbai.

So, it has been few hours, guess 2-3, that I have been sitting in the shade of the neem tree and enjoying a beautiful afternoon. Pure bliss.

Joining me now are two police constables on a fucked up Hero Honda CD 100, the maximum mileage bike at one point of time. As a biker, I have always hated that piece of shit they called a motorcycle. My favourites were IND-SUZUKI and Kawasaki. They were having a pre-evening time of their own on a good day. Within few minutes of their arrival, two fifteen-year-old girls came running to them. The two were students of a government school nearby and were on their way back home. They looked tense, unpleasantly, the sorts where you are not shaking but disgusted and a bit wary of what is going to happen next. Not the serious kind of tense. One of them was shaking a bit, but that was because of anger. A lot of people including me have this tendency.

"Those hooligans are teasing us, they do so everyday," the girl shouted at the policeman. Small towns are sensitive and there is still some civic sense. Unlike a place like Delhi or Bombay. A bunch of young, teenaged loafers used to wait at a spot for these girls. And then the usual stuff that follows is disturbing for the young girls. That day was perhaps some limit. Some physical exchange and then some verbal exchange must have pushed the girls to shrug their tolerant innocence and retort. Obviously, the police in sight helped. The boys quickly hid.

The senior policeman sends his junior to fetch the boys the girl is complaining about. He comes back with two, both of whom somehow show no remorse.

Tau: Oh teree himmat kaisay huyee in bachchiyon ko chednee kee!

(How dare you tease these girls?)

Tau was asked to sit quietly by the policemen and in their typical, relaxed style, they ask those two grinning boys what happened.

Boy1: Sirjee, nothing happened. We do not know what the fuss is all about.

Girl: He is, this is the boy, this is that sick boy who makes this road difficult for us everyday. Punish him sir, take him to the station. He and his band of leering, crass and equally loafer brothers.

Policeman: What's the matter you little romeos?

Boy: Sir, have you looked at her face? Just look at her face! Who would even give a second look to this ugly duckling, let alone tease her?

And they all burst out in laughter...

For a moment, I was frozen. There was a young girl yet to live her puberty laughed at by a bunch of foolish males. Within a moment, the policeman changes his expression and snubs those two little rotten bastards. He lets them go with a warning and tells those two girls to go back to their respective homes and are free to come back if these guys do anything. Tau gives his warning too and I just stare with disgust.

I very well remember the girl had not spoken a word since the disgusting remark. she was stuck with silence, and as her friend grabbed her arm towards the home, she treaded as if transformed into a zombie.

Something told me that she was used to this remark. I would have been frozen and in a fit of anger, thrashed the motherfucker who called me that. She did not. She just walked away. I did not see her looking up to the Almighty, nor there was a face swipe suggesting she wiped those tears off. Was she crying? What did she do when she got back home? Did she punch the mirror, smudge the kohl, or shout at anyone thereafter? Or did she retreat to the shell? The proverbial cocoon of the imagined utopia, morbid or heavenly, where wishes are spoken irrespective of their nature of good or bad. Where one can imagine the self to be a Gandhian figure or a demonic resurrection. Was she there or did she get back to the mundane chores of the world the next day? I wanted to know as much as I did not.

Tau growled and minced his words as he continued to swear, the dog continued to bark, the policemen continued to laugh and then were lost by me in the dust of the dusk. And so was the girl. The ugly duckling.

Fuck...

This incident came back, with its own learnings. No this is not about moral science nor beauty-is-skin-deep, art of life preaching. This is about someone whose identity was wiped out in her head forever because she was ugly. Or so was she called. How does it matter? The girl would have been married by now to a man no less than the one who abused her. I hope there is someone better in her life and that she has not given up the hope of looking good for herself. Or feeling sexy about herself. No, we as humans do not see what is there before our eyes, we see what is in front of our eyes.

And I am still unsexy! Let me tell you it feels great... not being one of them. And I can still find a chai and matthee and those days at Tau the great's stall. (No one has ever met Ramesh, you know.)

Sheesha dekhne se mujhmein chaar chand lag jayenge kya,

Bhagwan ne yeh shakal dee hai, main toh isee mein khush hun.

(Would looking at the mirror add eternal beauty to my face

God has given me this face and I am happy with it.)

Tau the great

chaotic unison

2007-12-30T13:43:00.000-08:00

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?

the library

2007-12-01T19:05:00.001-08:00

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...
Cheers

Smiling

2007-10-17T15:29:00.000-07:00

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!

Aargh!

2007-10-10T15:31:00.000-07:00

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.

Back!

2007-10-10T14:31:00.000-07:00

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.

Tell me Oh dear tarot.....

2007-07-27T11:58:00.000-07:00

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.

Strange day

2007-07-10T06:53:00.000-07:00

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.

Singlehood!

2007-07-09T14:36:00.000-07:00

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)

Fuckin Bad Day!

2007-07-07T14:12:00.000-07:00

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."
**********SILENCE***********
"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.

Marital bliss... damn

2007-07-05T05:58:00.000-07:00

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.

From SAJA

2007-06-30T07:13:00.000-07:00

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.

the breakthrough

2007-06-29T07:32:00.000-07:00

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

2007-06-29T06:32:00.000-07:00

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...

Hard soul or hands off approach...

2007-06-22T08:31:00.000-07:00

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!

Psst.. Do you do Drugs?

2007-06-21T07:26:00.000-07:00

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.

And I wonder...

2007-06-08T07:51:00.000-07:00

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)

2007-06-08T04:43:00.000-07:00

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?"
"Two"
"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

2007-06-08T04:28:00.000-07:00

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.

Chance meeting

2007-06-06T13:38:00.000-07:00

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

2007-06-06T08:56:00.000-07:00

Michelle Nichols
Reuters

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 www.eyesondarfur.org, 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?

2007-06-06T08:49:00.000-07:00

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

2007-06-06T04:30:00.000-07:00

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.
Hmmmm!!!!!
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!!!

are you gay Mr?

2007-05-30T08:21:00.000-07:00

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

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA AHA HAHAHAHA

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.
Cheers

lunatic chaos

2007-04-30T10:15:00.000-07:00

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.

How to talk to girls at parties

2007-04-23T03:45:00.000-07:00

“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

from where it all began

2007-04-11T05:12:00.000-07:00

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 discovery 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.

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

2007-04-10T12:56:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-04-10T04:37:00.000-07:00

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 http://www.nytimes.com/pages/science/index.html

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

2007-04-08T07:53:00.000-07:00

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.

Secret diary of Greg Chappell in W Indies

2007-04-08T07:45:00.000-07:00

This is interesting!
http://vinodg.blogspot.com/2007/04/secret-diary-of-gregory-stephen.html

Dreamy talks Part 2

2007-03-28T08:18:00.000-07:00

It has been some time since the dreamy talks ended. This happened because of the disinterest my species showed in discussions. I so miss Mary Jane all this time. The two looneys, lost in their respective utopias, talking, talking and talking about dreams for hours is a scene that I now think is nothing more than just a sweet memory.

The most profound thing in my dreams is that the story, in different context, takes place around the same area albeit in a different form. One such entity is an old dilapidated fortress that has been forgotten even by the cattle that stray all around it. The first time I discovered this (in the first episode of dream) was with my father who took me on a tour of the city he was working in. A normal Gwalior kind of city that reminded me of various excursions I undertook as a kid in and around the universe of Khajuraho. I have a thing for lonely places, the old lanes, crumbling corridors, and gallows that now speak of a pigeon going gutar guuuuu, gutar guuuuuuu. It is interesting to notice him noticing you with its spring neck that wobbles in all directions, and tiny eyes asking 'What the fuck are you doing here?' So anyway, the tour ends up in me fishing in back pond, as always moonstruck.

There is really no reason for me to remember my dreams so vividly that their retelling ends up boring my folks, especially my sister (Ha Ha!). But the whole journey that begins from somewhere and ends in me being all alone is just so fascinating.

Then I saw me revisiting an old industrial town that is now just a sketch from late 70s. A place where the factories are shut down, theatres put up painted posters and markets that have the same pink colour in which they were earlier painted. It is said that we don’t dream in colour but associate a shade from our conscious. I don’t wish to debate that as I am happy dreaming in Technicolor. This reminds me of a certain sequence in Gevacolour, a cross between Eastman and the modern version. So let it be, psychoanalysts; I play my own games.

So getting back on track, the same fortress I had seen earlier twice, appears in a new avatar where in it is a palatial mansion embellished for what it appears to be a huge celebration. And I, being the punctual guy, reach late. It is my cousin’s wedding and she is looking drop dead gorgeous in her mid-20s – she is 11 now. For me it is a reason to raise two toasts as she is marrying a cousin from my father’s side. In between I see my naani, who has been waiting to see me for a long time. Draped in a white saree with red border, and wearing pearls, she resembles Rajmaata (I come from Jaipur) and gets up with a huge smile on her face. “Where have you been? I have been dying to see you kittu!” I gradually learn that the celebrations are mellowing down and it is time for something special that only I can do. Naani holds my hand and goes to the Eastern corner of the mansion. Contrary to the scales of such places, this staircase is not more than 6 feet wide and has no carvings, no borders and no arch. As we walk I down, there is a question, ‘Naani, kahaan jaa rahe hain hum’. She just smiles and tells me that the only person capable of continuing the tradition is ME.

There is a play on my ear lobes that brings with it a serene calm and sweet smell. The sound is that of rippled waters, and the cool breeze sends that adorable tingle down your body. The kind, which is in the air at the end of springtime or in the October sunshine. Naani has bread in her hand, and when the door opens, there is water all around from the same pond. It is all the same but in a different light.

Despite pitch darkness, the glow from the fortress lofts on the water along with a fish popping here or there. We sit on the stairs with our feet immersed in the cool aqua, and feed the marine beauties. “Hasn’t it been a long time since you did this kittu?”

There is this thing with life – moments come in numbers and all of them are either pre determined or they end up being that. At times, there is a call in the heart that says, let this stand still, for I feel like one with myself. Let me live just one moment, stop the ticking and a sense of being complete within the universe brings a smile that we can never have in this cruel world.

And I am there, all by myself, allowing the nature to put in a few words and notes of itself. In between my eyes try to catch a playful moon on the surface that moves here and there and then everywhere. Breathing contentment, I walk out to find that everybody has retired and it is time I catch a grub. I go for a place without understanding why? My feet just take me there, to an old bakery shop. And everyone there is just so happy to see me. It is like nostalgia.

‘Kittu baba, kahan ho?’ asks baba – that’s what I call him. He gives me a chucky, the groundnut and jaggery delight. This one is different, it is filled with groundnuts, almonds and pistachio and is really thick. I am not charged, for I used to steal this as a kid. There is nothing in the world that I used to ask for except this delicacy.

And then, my now-conscious brain, that is dreaming, decodes the dream and takes me into a sepia-tinted flashback mode. There goes the young me stealing a little, running away with a brave man’s smile and rushing to the eastern corner. This is where I spent all my time feeding the fish.

I realised that somewhere within the vagaries of time, I have lost myself. The kid inside resides within the forgotten lanes, unnamed streets, stone cave-corners et al. As I write this down, there is lump in my throat that I am trying hard to suppress. At any given moment, I would rush down to my old fort and play around with solitude.

Let the ripples lift me and play around like angels with a cute little kid. That is that I wish for!

The two-faced soul (double entendre? naah)

2007-03-22T05:32:00.001-07:00

PRE SCRIPT: It takes two to tango. It takes a little bit of humane touch to get close to an individual. The connection between any two is dependent on a code of communication one can never decode; when they do, it is a different picture. Those who follow this get two slaps right across their face. So moonstruck keeps two faces. And that is made out to be his forte albeit not the way he wished.

Sweet Ashi once asked me why do I live two lives, one with the people and one with myself. I replied that it is not just me but everyone. One's expressions with the others, inclusive of everyone, will never be the same when he/she is alone. It seems logical to me, needless to say, she sort of disagreed. Her take was, 'Why can't you be yourself?'. Would people see that should have been the right question.
I hate it when I am in a certain comfort corner (I love alliteration) with someone who I presume will make an extra effort to understand or at least listen to what I have to say. That is not the right thing to do, for then there is an expectation that comes into play and you are unsure of the reaction. Lest we forget, it ends in disappointment!
Then again, there are judgements that humans love passing without thinking. A certain blogger (hmmm.... ya blogger) has a problem with people, read men, who assume things about her based on what she blogs about. But that is a different case. That is gender specific. We men make this silly mistake time and again to surmise things about any eve. Last I remember how at Climax, within my bunch of punju and noveau riche boys, a joke was passed around about this fantastically stylish and sexy 30-something woman who was a divorcee. To these guys, she was this ubiquitous lady that they came across in all the hip places for 'us young' people. The fact that she gulped down gallons of alcohol and danced in her own sexy way (sexy only to me), only added to her being termed as a loser, the-ambitious woman-who-lost-out-on-good-men in her prime, and of course a slut who could sleep with you any day. So this is the case with men. And women are no less in passing these judgements with a shrug thinking that they are elite and women in reality while the others are simply rotten.
No, I am not talking about that as this is an issue that any one can handle. Also, it is a small headache that is best dealt with ignorance.
My point is with people not connecting or not showing that they can. They end up asking what is the problem and interrupt to pass their remark. Without realising, or maybe at times they do, they perceive of me as a cynic, pessimist, loser, cribbing nutcase. Which is annoying for I mustn't have spoken without considering that you appear a probable confidante. Coz you showed me that!!!!!
Why do we expect? Because we are humans! Why do we then fail in getting them to respond the right way? Because we are humans!! It is like that you have to end up living two lives; some do it openly, knowingly and others do it without thinking. I belong to the first category, like it is not obvious.
And now I have reached a point in my life where I will not get close to or let anyone get so close to me that when they don't get it, it wont hurt. And I will not drink out of frustration. Sassy says, 'Kirit you can't make people read between the lines'. You are right girl but then if the person is close to me, and above all a human, isn't it required on his/her part to do that. I never asked people to read between the lines, I just talk like that. And anyone who intimate with me will most definitely know that. Quite often I have ended up repeating a thing in different ways that it becomes straight at the end of the day. Yet, there is no sign of a healthy response. On the other hand, I learn that I am at the receiving end for being in my cocoon.
Do I have a choice? Yes, the one I just mentioned above. There is no point in expecting. There is no point in talking to people either. Especially those who already have a picture of you in their head before even saying 'hi' to you. It is like Meeta Mishra in Brunch thinking I am a gay because of my hairband and kaajal. It is like Pirate and his species thinking of me as a pretentious freak. Mayank and Sunday gang thinking of me as a carefree non-serious person. Varun sees me as a jester yet, he knows there is this dark side to me and I am actually what I look. I find it hard to ignore that people around know me for everything that I am not. Those who do, from now on, I wont allow them to cross my cocoon's buondaries. 'A' did that last year and I am still recovering from the mental breakdown. Not that it was her fault. It wasn't.
So I shall be two-faced and well, and wont be sad if not happy.

POST SCRIPT: A certain blogger (SiM) has me in her list the title line of which says 'stuff I read by people I admire and those I wish I knew...' This links' list has me too and moonstruck wonders why would anyone wished or be interested in a loser like me. I thank this girl for saying this and really for no one would ever do that, at least not to me, but I also find myself now so cut off from the world in one way that I wish I die soon. Or at least in peace.

dreamy talks

2007-03-14T03:13:00.000-07:00

PRE SCRIPT: The dreamer in me has weaved some fantastic tales while gazing into the thin air. The human inside has always tried to connect with another human, with of course disturbing results. Nag is a man I admire, at one time we were on the opposite end in two quizzes, and he and I won each. I admire him more than he can ever understand. He has helped me with one of the most pertinent aspect of my life. When I had joined this graveyard HT, I saw a weird tale unfold in three stages and it had him too. One of the things that I have learnt, and really the hard way, is that never hold back something you wish to share. I find talking heart to heart has anyway been molested by us humans so I prefer to write it fown. Maybe someday, someone would pay attention. Even if they don't, it is imperative for them to stop being a robot/zombie in this strange world.

Hi Nag,
This is not the time and space to say this but since it is something so interesting that I cannot stop myself from telling you. It is this series of dreams I saw last night. For the first time, I saw this series of 3 dreams immaculately inter-linked with each other. The first dream showed the world some 50 years from now. Technologically super-advanced, traffic problems under control, metro running throughout New Delhi. It is a world our scientists imagined in those sci-fi graphic novels of the 50s and 60s. But as it has to be, there is chaos, we are not calm anymore we are not human anymore, natural resources have all died out but being humans, we have invented artificial resources and those too aplenty. But it is the fucking anarchy around so it is just the surface we are happy at.
Then there this was this deafening bang, with light as powerful as a nuclear bomb, but only releasing the electromagnetic waves, it is meant for Armageddon, but then...
So I woke up went and had water, THEN when Ii was in sleep, the dream continued. This 2nd phase had me and few others of our species. WE are the last of the survivors and we all get along we shed tears of sorrow and joy. There is nothing around us except nature, that’s it. It is like we from the technically superior times have reached to the age-old world of ours. And then something happens which is not pleasant and I wake up coz it disturbed me. Went out had a smoke and slept again
The dream enters the 3rd phase, with me and few others of my family, I cant recognise them, we are travelling in an open air train, amidst a series of mountains which look like grand canyon. As I traverse further, I learn that this is one of those sites where the big bang occurred. I wonder on my way how come so soon we have developed a roller coaster, which is like trans state. And as I look down the depth of the area is somewhere near 10,000 feet or maybe more so it is very scary but we are very safe for the tracks are smooth and very well built. Guess what happens next, I enter a colony that resembles my old colony of Mansarovar in Jaipur. Everybody has started using so many different colours for their houses; we have proper animal shelters and not lashed anymore. Fountains and gardens that we all have made. And then when I am about to enter a flat which supposedly bears my name and 2 others, I see 2 people welcoming me and saying something to me I cant hear what r they saying.
As I go closer I learn that one is a male and other female. The female is my soul mate buddy Reeti from Delhi. And the male is none other than Narendra Nag. As I look towards the horizon with them, u say "Kirit, welcome to the brave new world."
Phew!!!!!
As a dream catcher this is perhaps one dream for me that I did not need to analyse or work towards or track down so that as to understand it. And surprisingly all of them ran for 2 hours each. Isn’t it great Nag? I think it is something that we all should work towards. Already our civilisation is heading towards decadence, we may have made technological advancements, eradicated diseases, abolished slavery, capitalism, imperialism, earning way more than our fathers and forefathers. BUT, we are not happy from inside. Our lives no longer have a meaning and we don’t even need to have one with so much luxury around. Then there is this huge divide between the rich and the poor today. Of the 1.3 billion people around the world living under 1$ a day, 900 million are women and that is the amount in dollars MGM is spending to construct MGM Grand Macau. And this is just one of those numerous disturbing statistics. And then the problems of pollution, flora and fauna getting extinct.
God I hope this dream becomes a reality soon and I hope you are there with me to raise the all of us joining hands as one force and I really really really hope that you say those last lines to me in real.
I am sorry for writing this huge monologue mail, but I couldn’t contain this within myself and I cant even talk about this in person over here in the office.

POST SCRIPT: I was laughing like anything when Nag in his typical vein replied 'Dude, or let's just do acid!'.
I was on the floor, figuratively speaking. Anyway, this was the last time I made an attempt to remember my dream and talk (to myself, like always) about it. There is this feeling of seeing yourself in a different light after every dream-catcher (this is to define me and Reeti and those with whom I have discussed dreams at length) session that words can't describe. And now times have changed so much that I wish to go back to the time I wasnt 'friendly' and lived in my own world; the one with the universe.
I really hope this dream comes true before I die.

UGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH

2007-03-13T05:00:00.000-07:00

DUNIYA KEE JAAT KA PAAYDAA!!!! Chutiya life is fucking up vibrating dildos up my back as i am forced to BLOW a lot in this worldly JOB. Species tell me to an ANALysis. this is getting worse day by day. I am so fucking pissed, no SO FUCKIN PISSED that tomorrow I am going to find one areshole and fuck it till it bleeds to death. I am going to shove it up so hard so long that the testicles will burst with semen and blood. RAPE! That is what i am going to do to this world. Looking at this picture I shall grapple these weirdos from all around applying a head crunch. Then I shall grapevine them and watch in pleasure as their body is pressed to half of it. A superb figure four shall pulverise the face, turning it red from pale to blue and finally purple. and then the painful pink. The brain nerves will explode with blood coming out like a fountain. The demonic resurrection of Kirit Kiran will see this world in agony and pain. Dark cloud of fear will loom large on humanity sending them into oblivion. Then, with full force I shall punch with an iron hand. I dont give a flying fuck how much will they cry in pain. BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM
Until their faces are unrecognisable from every angle and medical records, I shall continue my outburst. Finally I will start ball-busting and stomp them. These dicks will then be tied to a tree and lashed at badly. So hard that their ribs will show an encased heart pumping the last dose of blood. CHOPPPPPP!!! Off go the balls and SLASHHHHHHHHHH!!! off go the legs. A dagger will then pierce through the heart, take it out hanging and breathing its last and then shown to the specimen, Look you motherfucker, you shouldnt have messed with me!!!!
Dont take me for granted or screw me over and over again. ALL I ASKED WAS MY SHARE OF AIR AND SPACE and you behnchod duniya fucked me as if I was a boytoy.
Maa chudayo sab ke sab!!!!
I may not be wearing pink lingerie or get silicon implants, but this is the perfect pictorial representation!! FUCK YOUUUUUU

ne plu ne plah

2007-03-12T04:22:00.000-07:00

I learnt this style of gibberish from Sush and... well.. it means nothing. This might contradict the dicitionary meaning of gibberish but who cares. People are crazy, times are strange and given the current scene, I am totally out of range. The trouble is that I still care and things have changed. Going by these times, I can well imagine myself to be this down and out loser some ol' acquaintance bumps into while strolling with the heavy wallet on the streets of Pushkar. My appearance would resemble a bohemian who dreamt that this world is a beautiful place to live in. The one who always daydreamt with profound eccentricity and is seen as a looney making no sense at any given moment of time. The world would be disgusted at the very presence and would politely express that on my face by spitting a dozen times. My great mane of today shall be present, albeit in patches, perhaps. This world is not a place for freaks like me who are frank, honest and not opinionated. Every company that employed me would have tossed me several times like an old samosa being fried in local oil. For no matter how hard I would work, the word ASS would be writ large on my face.
Saturday night when I met Brenden from Ireland, there was a happy feeling - 'Thank god, I am not the only sane rebel'. Actually, this word has a dual meaning and today, even if a person is not the vandalist or the blasphemy-injected hooligan, for the world, he would be that only. Anyway, so I as drove back in peace, there was this question that was haunting me from all sides asking me the meaning of the quote, and its relevance. If one would be asked about me, would there ever be an answer that is devoid of mockery and an opinion.
I have never so weak in my life ever. It is like, Kirit was meant to be down in the dumps forever. While everyone is outside celebrating their existence blissfully, this man is busy gulping down alcohol by litres. And cut to the future, there will be a man walking with a dog barking at the obnoxious attire and tattered soul. The pants would finish by my knees, there would either be a shirt or a vest, better still, just a piece of cloth, the patched head would be covered by a Jewish hippy hat who showered some pity on me, a collection of parchments that would be my diary or so I would force you to think, a mouth organ that would send some notes in the air in the foolish hope of being reciprocated and a tear that never dropped.
So when you bump into me few years down the line, please make a note of my presence on the street with no name. For I will greet you with a smile that was waiting for a long time. Pushkar might not be the utopia I'd die searching, but it would give me a space of my own, the pad, the yard, a flower, a ray of hope, a drop of jupiter, a mouthful of sky, the bird's chirp, a friend in solitude, a moment where I'll dance with my illusions and wait for some divine intervention to stop the monstrosity in this world. See you there.

Signed

Moonstruck, the loser

Wet dreams or explicit, this is all about good sex!!

2007-03-07T03:33:00.000-08:00

The template of this blog is self-explanatory. A long time ago, Asif, one of best friends, and me were discussing how sex is such a deep-rooted entity of our civilisation. And how we humans either perceive it as a physical exchange of hormones between two souls in love or pure lust. Lust isn’t bad; it is in fact necessary to raise the tempers. But the lust that we referred to, of course, was defilement. That becomes an uncalled for coitus that destroys the sanctity of copulation.

Now the reason why one is aroused stems from the physical attraction that is independent of gender. Let me not go into that territory as it is a sensitive issue and shall be discussed in one of the following posts.

This brings me to the premise of the new series that I had conceived some time back and probably never got the time to pen it down. I am fascinated with pornography and this has got nothing to do with perversion or voyeurism. Pornography is lurid or sensational material, a sort of a vulgar depiction of any existing thought in the universe. A representation, usually obscene these days, of the innermost desires that is pertinent to existence. What can be pondered upon is that is it an offshoot of vanity or an extension (there is a difference between the two) or a mere explicit image?

I believe that one’s indulgence in vanity resulting in a sexual act of any sort is required for the soul to feel great about itself. Bunny Glamazon’s ass is one of the best that can take you in, literally. The amazon’s leather and lace outfit forces me to weave a nice BDSM story, soft or hardcore depending on my mood, and derive pleasure out of it. I shall be discussing more about her in the following posts that deal with BDSM, fantasies, facesitting, erotic mixed wrestling and mixed wrestling et al.

Some people will definitely call it explicit and just another fantasy or a little boy’s wet dreams. The point is that I am feeling good while the ‘pen’ moves. (HA HA)

.................

2007-03-06T02:58:00.000-08:00

When was the last time I ran amok on a street just for kicks while others watched with disdain? Isnt that a heavy word to use for the others who have never cared for what you stand for? What rule do they follow when they know the person for everything that he is not? Why is Charlie Chaplin thought of a great actor and not Buster Keaton? Whatever happened to Fatty Roscoe Arbuckle? Why do we pay the price for things that we probably never asked for? Is it mandatory for us to live the way others or the society expects us to? Why do some people like Nanda and Bose get away with idiotic pieces called news stories, that end up on the front page? Why does the dork Shreevatsa Nevatia gets to be in the limelight, given he has no knowledge at all? Why do Lavanya and all think that they should be like me? What is it about me that is worth liking? Why was I shoved in a corner when the others laughed at me? Why dont they get the same treatment? What has any accessory got to do with a celebrity? Why cant we live on our own and not emulate others? Where is the individual lost? Why aren't taboos cured, in the minds of people? Why dont we stop for a moment and breathe the air? Why dont we stop and play with dead leaves without speaking and let the autumn send some nice sounds to our heart? Who added the 's' in the word lisp? Oh, out of way!
When was the last time you had sex and didnt expect the girl to be Angelina Jolie? When you were in the girl, did you smell the moment? Why is sex confused with lovemaking? Why is that whenever you do it, you are either supposed to be in love or the girl is a slut? How did men become men and women, women? Why is a homosexual called a freak? Why is a gay called a faggot? What is weird about loving someone your gender? Why is it that when a dick starts creating a tension in the underwear after noticing the feminine ass, he forgets about it while having sex? When a man can feel the ripple in the jockey at the sight, why does it take so long to get it 'up' during the session?
Why isn't every female keen on a combat roleplay and why just a mills and boon puppy love tale? How come a masseur and snobbish guest is a good exciting enough story and a domina with a foot fetish isnt? How come tall people are sexy? What defines sexy? Is it just the body? If yes, then why? How come few people are born sexy like Imran Khan?
Till what time will I keep on asking unanswered questions? How long can I look at the flicker of the candle and figure a belle on it? When will the moon smile at the maniac again? When will I get to see one moment of peace that belongs to me and only me?

Prelude - Hollow echoes

2007-02-27T11:36:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting with fashionable candles that rarely sway to the air's rhythm

Tantric beats fondle with me like a toy in an infant's hand

the three witches are dead for they find the existence camouflaged with the dull atmosphere

the cactus is pricked by the ignorance of the missing thorns

as the sand slips away, the reflections of the light in sky is conspicuously absent

I catch the air in the dry tear that was hoping to kiss the optimist's smile

the steps left behind by the play of hopscotch are washed by the shifting layers of time

At a distance I see another soul

Gathering what all is left, the weakone braves the raging storm

A doubt laughs aloud - this isnt what you think it is

He is the one hwo saw light in blind darkness and nothing can scare him

Scarred, chipped, bleeding, as I near him, it vanishes into thin air

God said - I'm sorry but the mirage moved away'

I let a scream, the loudest one in ages

it got devoured by the invisible demon......

(hollow echoes begin..............)

Double or Die/Young Bond 3

2007-02-27T02:53:00.000-08:00

Yound Bond 3
Charles Higson
Puffin Books
£6.99
Years ago, there was a movie that chronicled the life of Ian Fleming, the man who created the suave superspy James Bond. The secret life of Ian Fleming, starring the legendary Sean Connery’s son Jason, told us the story of how the womanising writer got thrown out of Eton and how be becomes a journalist with Reuters. In addition, his own clandestine immersion into and mission with SOE, the erstwhile dormant yet watchful military intelligence.
This was the time Brosnan was ‘piercing’ through the hearts of women and men alike; for different reasons of course. Now this Remington Steele looked a lot younger than all his predecessors, not that he was when portraying the role, but he appeared. It was during this time that this reviewer saw the Fleming movie and started wondering about – how did Bond become Bond, James Bond!
How were his primary years and more importantly where? He surely didn’t become the man with a golden gun overnight! This is where you must pick up Charles Higson’s Young Bond series.
Ok, first things first. This book is now officially titled ‘Double or Die’.
Why the newsflash? Once the book was released with a very basic jacket, a contest ran online that asked viewers about its name. An aggressive PR exercise, this saw millions dropping in and finally in January the author announced the title and unveiled a new jacket.
Jimmy Bond – don’t forget that he is a boy albeit an extraordinary one – has to crack a cryptic letter that arrives in Eton. He has forty-eight hours in which he has to undertake gambles and eventually save his professor’s life. Lest we forget that the danger looms not on these two alone, but the world. Ah! The proverbial mission Bond always embarks on!
The one who started as an active young adolescent in Blood Fever, the first in the series, is now going to learn skills that would make him the lethal nemesis of the world villains later in his life.
There is a play happening in the brain while reading that imagines Jimmy to become Connery or Daniel Craig.
This is not a heavy book, not that it is that light a la Hardy Boys. Don’t look at the artwork, it will only disappoint, initially. But once you are through the first two numbered chapters – there is a preface chapter - the fun that builds up is one that amuses a reader of every age.
Double or Die is fast, not like one of the spy’s sleeks cars, but fast indeed.
A tip: do not, under any temptations, read the preface. The fun heightens when the reader deduces the mystery using his own imagination.

The Oudh Nights

2007-02-21T03:54:00.000-08:00

The Oudh Nights: Tales of Nawab Wazirs, Kings and Begums of Lucknow
Author: A P Bhatnagar

History is inarguably one of the best topics to study, academically or for hobby sake. Provided the retelling does not paint a picturesque frame as the title might suggest, but recalls the making of a culture, evolution of the civilisation there, and the small stories revolving around the central one that provides enjoyment in reading for everyone.

Prof A P Bhatnagar had found wide acceptance and acclaim with his earlier work ‘Delhi and its Fort Palace – a Historical Preview’. His second title is very meticulously drafted and with patience. For a lot of us, Lucknow is where the celebrated Nawab Wajid Ali Shah once sat on the throne. The city that speaks of its chickenkarhi, courtesans, cuisine, mannerisms and elegant attires. There is more to it.

The city situated on the banks of River Gomti is certainly not that ancient as Kashi or Ayodhya and does not find a relevant historic mention until the time of the Shia Mughal governors of Oudh. And this is where the book starts.

A brief mention in the beginning speaks of the state of Awadh with its various names under the Kushanas, Mauryas and several empires. Once that is done in the apt way, as in short and crisp, the first mughal incursion gets written about beginning from Saiyad Saalar Masud, Mahmud of Ghazni’s nephew in 11^th century. Telling more from here will destroy the beauty the work boasts of.

Bhatnagar’s excellence is not just about the historical accuracy or the year-by-year retelling of the state. But, the raconteur mantle he dons while taking his reader on a joyride throughout. His academic rectitude and quest for meticulous details excites one’s admiration and interest.

There are a couple of assertions made by him, specifically about Wajid Ali Shah that one may find difficult to digest in the first reading but once they are understood well, it can be said that the assertions are gentle and thought provoking and of course well illustrated.

The ending has been done brilliantly giving Appendices on the elements that make up the Lucknow of the Nawabs, existing art, craft, culinary art and architecture that once shone like a jewel in the crown.

The miseducation of women by James Tooley

2007-02-21T03:44:00.000-08:00

There are two factors that less than avid readers look out for in a new book; the jacket and the preface by the author. What if, an author turns out to be smart by writing an entire chapter that works as a preface? Smarter would be the magnetic charm in the writing that even someone who is not much interested would be disallowed to discontinue.

James Tooley has picked up one of the lip smacking topics for anyone from any age, Feminism. It is a subject that brings out animal instinct in terms of uncivilised and baseless arguments. Like communism, it lies thoroughly misinterpreted and abused. Thanks to the system of education we all grow up in, it is passed on as a legacy to our female counterparts (and lots of pretentious ones too, from both sexes) without any proper foundation of the idea that in the first place never blatantly hinted at equality. All it turns out to be is blasphemous.

In short, miseducation that dominates feminism largely. And this is the territory where this gutsy male writer has gone into. The tone is direct, and replete with questions. The book does not admonish the concept or the flag bearers, but raises important and pertinent queries as to why it has become what it is now?

Both the post and pre modern eras of writers’ and audiences’ minds have been explored. This includes Fielding’s Bridget Jones’s who Tooley sees as an extension of feminists who fought for blank equality views. Women in their 30s who wanted to be independent once and are now lonely but feel themselves difficult to express.

This is the humorous and direct tone with which this book begins. By the time you have reached the last page of the first chapter, Tooley tells you the reason for not writing a preface but an elongated introduction that does the work smartly.

The fact that men and women were equal from the day God created Eve from Adam’s rib. To me and people (men and women alike) like Tooley, this phenomena means that neither is complete without the other. We need women as much as they need us. Yes, there are few differences but the gap is not astronomical in terms of distance that makes a certain Mr Gray come up with Venus and Mars ideology. For Christ’s sake, we were born on Earth and we belong to it.

The world is replete with ideologies thumping on Feminism, but no one wishes to explore it, question the different view points expressed right from the time of Renaissance which is authentically the period (as much as I know) when it all began. We float on the surface of scum and don’t wish to cleanse the gutter at the bottom. And it all lies in the non-updated, blindfolded (mis)education we have all been provided with.

Tooley questions, explores, and desires to bring a change in the thinking.

Recovered from Hiatus

2007-02-15T04:46:00.000-08:00

GREETINGS!!!! It has been some time, no; IT HAS BEEN SOME TIME since I was away from this escape space of mine. Why do I call it the escape space and whom am I greeting? No point in answering that. It is my blog! Over the years I have formed this strong bond with Jenny, my diary that whenever I scribble in after a long time there is an apology that is very personal. Now, much like the Pygmalion, Jenny and these web spaces have become my best friends. And I am so attached to these confidantes, at times I feel really bad not talking to them.
The reason is very simple – they listen to me, the way I wish to talk to them, tell them what is there in my head, why am I crying dry tears and what is really pissing me off. I remember last week I was going through my huge casket that I call ‘library’ and in a strangled state there was the very first red diary that saw moonstruck taking a birth. It felt so good to read that atrocious piece of ink I called ‘writing a diary entry’ but it is so close to my heart.
There is a line that reads, ‘today as these people have ditched me again, there is a loner inside me that is crying out loud shouting, will someone just listen to me! I don’t know if I can call a diary anything, girls name their journals, but maybe I won’t be a loser grumbling in a corner. So I’ll speak here thinking somebody in my lifetime ever comes across this’.
So, I felt the need to bounce back to writing, as there is this feeling of finding someone who is all ears for me. The last time there was an entry was when legendary James Brown expired. And as always, nice guy Jerry replied. Thanks man.
Now in this New Year, 2007, so much has happened that just kept on pushing me in my shell more and more. Earlier this year, there was the break up. I have never come so close to any girl in my life. Aditi, she is… she is an angel. A woman with whom I shared my childhood, a fiery bond, explosive chemistry, understanding without speaking, and an affair that happened, just like that. It was probably the fastest and the strongest affair in my life ever. And I know that I may never get into one again. After Prajakta, Ayesha and someone I can’t name, it was Aditi, whom I felt really close to. But differences cropped up and now we are two instead of one.
But I love her, ummm. Ok this sounds very strange but I have never learnt the science of moving on. There is nothing like that. I have shared so much with people and I love all of them so much (others included apart from these girls) that I still believe someday they might bump into me and we will start talking again. HOPELESS ROMANTIC, ETERNAL DREAMER, such a doofus I am, this world tells me, but I will not give up on this nature of mine. The point is I will continue loving those people who came in my life and went because of any explicable or inexplicable reason. So whether or not we are together, I will always love ADITI.

Now when all of this happened, I decided to bring some sort of change in my life. Enough of the monstrous monogamous monotony (I just love alliteration). First step – a new sort for work opportunity. Something that takes me back to my roots, my passions of story telling, theatre and acting. Before that, let me begin how the week from January 27 started on THE party note.

******************

This Saturday was already one of those crazy maniacal times we have at Morrison. This time, a huge bunch of us, including the three stooges trio at Morrison (Derick, Abhijeet and Moi), were having such a fucking good time. The non-stop comic experience that lasted for like three hours left us all with a light head and a smile. Next day was Varun Cobain’s birthday. The plan had seen a change almost everyday since the beginning of the week. This time, we froze on a nice Sunday afternoon, with bar-be-cue and old friends and new.

******************

It had been a long time since I did a bar-be-cue. And this was just the perfect time. Since I wont have been in a state to reach the graveyard called office, I sent a message at 11:00 am to Sandeep Sir, thinking this man would be like ‘great Sunday start’. Anyway, I just rushed to the birthday boy’s place with the grill and all. Aunty, being the lovely mom she is, was all set for the delights. She had prepared the mutton, paneer, potatoes and fish was getting ready. I was like cool, lets burn the damn coals soon. There was Mishu, the helpful Buster Keaton, Sakina, who had prepared the chicken and the cake, Ankur and his girlfriend, who in aunty’s words looked cut from the same pottery (they look really cute, touchwood), Sidhartha, but of course Reeti, how can I miss her, I was actually happy to see the entire family together, and yes Rahul and his wife too. My excitement was like gradually increasing given the quality of grilled delights. It had been really long and this time I was more than happy to enjoy it.

In between, walked in a figure that we all know, and I am sure that lots of them know her. The picture is here, I could not find a better one, and so I pasted two. Gayatri Kachru is an old friend of the Mathur family and everyone knew her there except me and my sweetu Lavanya. There was a strange look on varun’s face when she called up as she was just round the corner. And then the effervescent personality she is, there was a constant chattering happening around me. Luckily she was inside talking to uncle and aunty. An old relationship gone sour, an intelligent girl who has lost it, someone who could have been more successful and actually used her life, there were these multitude of reactions I could make out from all the faces that day. I was lucky, lucky enough to be in my most cherished position – that of an observer.

She intrigued me at first, but then it was washed away.
Anyway, so once the whole afternoon was over, and everyone had gone back, it was time for the birthday boy, moi, lavanya, mishu and sakina to have their own time. We had bacardi for starters and then quickly we shifted to Jameson.
This was some day, as we continued the whole thing from one of the most Sunday afternoons we have all had in a long time, at Morrison. Reeti was performing with her cool band, and I had never seen any of her gigs in full length. And this time they were playing blues. How could I have missed that? When this little chit of a woman starts singing, I am immediately transported to the 60s and in front of Janis; she sounds exactly like her.
And when varun came back from the reception he was supposed to attend, there were more rum and cokes to follow.

******************

During this whole time Varun and I had been discussing plans of directing a short film. There was a competition for a reality show for aspiring filmmakers. I had written a play titled ‘House at Wilhelm Street’ and he had penned a poem ‘Antonym’. I am sure this came out when he was high on acid. The two creations were fused and came a script that was mind boggling. We sent out the mailers looking for two trippy actors. CUT TO TODAY - What was initially planned to be a two-minute feature has now turned out to be a full-length short film. BACK TO THIS DAY – And then we decided on the shots, the set up and a rough idea for the screenplay. As sunlight faded away and so did my time in office, we landed up at his house. And the cycle repeated itself. A few rums, a few more thoughts and the ramblings continue…

******************

This Tuesday was different. We had planned not to go to Morrison but we still landed there. And since our dear friend was not at the console, we retired to varun’s house. His folks had gone for two weeks to Chitrakoot. He received a cute surprise gift as Rom an and Natasha entered with a sexy guitar for him as a birthday present. This night was some trip!
We are listening to Tool’s latest album, 10,000 days, drinking rum, whiskey and beer, looking at the album cover for hours and smoking pot like it is going to be out of fashion the next day.
Ok, this album has some great artwork conceived by Adam Jones, the band’s drummer, and has been crafted in 3-D. There is a pair of spectroscopic lenses that once are in right alignment with your eye take you into a world that is gothic, scary, trance, and I dont know what else. As you play the title song, the starting looks like it is set in some Transylvania kind of gothic place. And then the artwork of the flaming man, PHEW, I had to close my eyes for a moment, as I was unaware of my existence for few minutes. Well 4 pegs, 3 joints down, and with everyone around you stoned, there was this trance I was enjoying reminiscent of the bohemian days spent in Pushkar few years ago.
The fantastic part is the moment, my eyelids were down, and there were these pictures, laser images, smoke-generated effects taking various shapes that started haunting me. For precisely two minutes, there was a utopia embracing me and the soul was lofting around with no worldly disturbances. The whole thing was like being high on acid, big time.

******************

THE WEEK became a paradise where all that we did was watching movies right from Kiss Kiss Bang Bang to Bertolucci’s Dreamers. And Eva Green is oh so hot. In between we carried out auditions for our movie too. One Monday we were supposed to meet two actors and being the hippies we are, the night before was totally immersed in alcohol and pot. The Figella and Scorsassy, as we now call ourselves, were so zonged that we didn’t even know how to talk. Once the first guy went, and the pizza down our throat, it was time for these two to fall into the slumber. And we slept and slept and slept. Then more beer and rum, and of course our pot. Oh, in between we even saw Pink Panther.
The weekend saw us working on the screenplay like there was nothing more than this in the world. And what the hell did we come up with. The ten-minute film, to be shot without a narrative and dialogues could well be our ticket to fame. Or just another creative outlet that both of us have been longing for.
Till then, let us be the dreamers lost in the utopia!

I (don't) feel good

2006-12-25T05:08:00.000-08:00

JAMES BROWN
(May3, 1933 - December 25, 2006)
The funky chicken aint quacking any more; the swish-swooshes came with this brother and are now gone forever. Get upppa, yulllerrrrpp, like a sex machine, yuuullllerrrup, get uppa!!
We love you godfather of soul. May your soul rest in peace.

It doesnt get worse than this

2006-12-21T06:50:00.000-08:00

I am outty! Outty my wits, outty my sensibility, i cant tell red from white, possibly canadian from the awkwardly feminine and grumbles from groans.
Something is definitely wrong, because it not happening right. Wrong! Nothing is happening at all. At times, I end up thinking that it doesn't even matter. It is a figment of my stomach's grumbles. But no, it is troubling.
Maybe the very thought of it. Every time i sit down to finally finish the piece, the ideas enter the mind and they are lost. Lost to the stupid ideas my people end up bringing out.
So these happy go lucky ideas enter my realm and spoil it. I do pay attention to all of it, the noise and the perpetual whinings. But then I lose it.
I am constantly in touch with the dictionary and thesaurus thinking that a better choice of words would heighten the writing and, eventually, the reading experience. But before i put the pen down i throw it wondering IS IT REALLY WORTH IT?
It pisses me off to learn that the world doesnt want real articles; they want crap every damn time and in a new bottle. Or a new pot!
The lonesome poet wanders through the corridors of hollow writing paradigms. "We dont want reality, are you crazy, who in the world do you think would be crazy enough to buy that."
But I aint fabricating, I m producing facts and stories the way they are.
You ask me to do a comprehensive story on theatre because you love delhi. But you dont love theatre. The thought of being in something that seems possibly elite is the motivation. Not the fact that as a powerful tool, theatre has lost it completely. Do we even remember that there was a Safdar Hashmi once?
You have got to be kidding me moonstruck, we dont want to hear about him. Tell us more about Barry John, of the names and THE NAMES. That is all that matters.
Remember? happy go lucky is the word!?!
Maniac, be moonstruck as thats what you are good at!

Fine, at least I wont have any regrets. But then I have got to be alive, and kicking. And for that I need money, who can survive on food for thought without eating some. What am I doing? I exemplify few lines of the great Faiz.

vo log bahut Khush_qismat the

jo ishq ko kaam samajhate the

yaa kaam se aashiqii karate the

ham jiite jii masaruuf rahe

kuchh ishq kiyaa kuchh kaam kiyaa

kaam ishq ke aade aataa rahaa

aur ishq se kaam ulajhataa rahaa

phir aaKhir tang aakar ham ne

donon ko adhuuraa chhod diyaa

And the moonstruck, after a long time, remains just confused. I am just so confused!

The contrast and trapped in between

2006-11-29T13:04:00.000-08:00

current state of mind: in the ionosphere trying to create a strand of nuke thoughts
the artist is the trapped muse
in between light and darkness
experimental click of a lens blackens the thoughts
the tormented figments of imagination
lips... calm, vision... stuck, blood... getting hotter
a tear drops and kisses the controlled smile......

Prelude

2006-11-24T08:24:00.000-08:00

The permanent temptation of life is to confuse dreams with reality. The permanent defeat of life comes when dreams are surrendered to reality - James A. Michener

Have i surrendered to the dreams i once saw with open eyes? With a spectre of sadness looming all over, why am i sitting wearing bright red? I am not a colourful person, and that is refuted by a lot of them around me. Adorning a colour so bright never made any sense. And neither does it now. There was a time, I remember, when hours were spent reclining on this chair in the balcony; I observed a lot of things, but none was registered. What was I doing then? Has there been a defect in my brain ever since the womb let me out? I thought so. At times, I still think so.

You know, this is not an insipid picture. Look at the wall, it is lit brightly, and the area that covers the boy is shining. It is not opulent but just bright. I have always liked that. But it is all behind me. (Smile) That is what people tell me, life is not that gloomy and dark. How do I look, I dont have eyes at the back of my head. Isnt it obvious that at times, I dont want to turn?

to be continued................

interlude

2006-11-24T00:58:00.000-08:00

Why do i talk so often, to myself? Is it strictly apathy towards my so called goals in life or do i really dont have a goal in life? At times, the civilisation hails me as misfit... You should take that as a compliment, or so it seems. There is one way to look at things and there is ONE way to look at things. So, me being one is a good thing. Who tells me that? I dont know, it is something i wont use to bother myself esp when the glass of draught beer is empty...

Wait, isnt that the sound of Bob Seagal doing a cover of Metallica? Nice, or so it seems. Where did i pick up this line, guess, no i cant even guess this one. It happens to me so often i try and recollect what i did, when i did, how i did, from whom did i take the inspiration and to whom did i take it to. Now, with so many questions anyone can lose their head. Hmmm... Putting life in order.
To answer that:
Young un: i peed in my pants
then I became an adult (bade ho rahe ho so stop playing in mud and behave)
teenage: pimples determined how fast i was growing and how adult i was with more pimples, thats what the doon boy taught me. until i learnt he made me a ch*****.
high school: Science, thats the only option. girls, you have got to see priyanka dhawan man. oh prachi kaviraj. uppal's mam daugher is just so... just so.. just so.... these people couldnt go further, any further.
did someone forget that one needs to study? oh ya only IIT is where i look upto.
college: forget it
PG: dont even mention it
first job: i dont even remember it
second job: life of a wanderer
today: ???????????????????????????????/

why do we have questions? and why do we have to answer each one of them? why do we look at the past to help our future.
do we live in the past, all the time? It is like I am still catching up with yesterday, by tomorrow I will be ready for today! HAH!!!

surprisingly when someone sits with you and reminisces of all that happened and the days of yore, when we did that and did this and peeped inside the girls loo or when we were caught for sending cheesy chits to chicks, everything falls in place like a tale.
and then u remember all sorts of things.

It is like even trying to remember where did u learn that trick of shagging till long while lieng upside down. DId that come from Shaleen? Nah, Lokesh once discussed this in the open in the canteen. it was one of those days during one of those times. But did it work? acutally it did. you see the brilliant way in which u contruct the story it all falls in place. do bisexuals also have a say in that, as in a character? Psst... yes in everyone's stories. they just dont accept it.
So is it okay to be a gay or lesbian?
I dont know if everyone was straight when they descended on the planet.
No but is it okay.
How do i know?
What are you?
Bi-curious! Asshole, What breed is that?

Enough!!!!
Waiter, another draught beer.
So where were we? Bob Seagal? Guess apathy - i want to know the meaning.

Fuck it man! Gibberish!!!!

And, the moonstruck and the maniac finish the beer and back on the track to build another fucked up conversation in the air.

(utter gibberish, i know)

few interesting smirks that accuse genders

2006-11-24T00:29:00.001-08:00

Men are like tiles; once you lay them straight, you walk all over them: Anonymous (actually someone i know but didnt want to quote her)

Men make women messy: Catherine Banning (Thomas Crown Affair)

The more i see of men, the more i admire dogs: Anonymous

Men are taught to apologise for their weaknesses, women for their strengths: Lois Wyse

A woman could trust me as long as her interests didn't run too contrary to my own: Thomas Crown

Men are all alike - except the one who you've met is different: Mae West

Men are my hobby; if i ever get married, i would have to give it up: Mae West

The Bible contains six admonishments to homosexuals and 362 admonishments to heterosexuals. That doesn't mean that God doesn't love heterosexuals. It's just that they need more supervision: Lynn Lavner (this one i totally love)

My lesbianism is an act of Christian charity. All those women out there praying for a man, and I'm giving them my share: Rita Mae Brown

Why is it that, as a culture, we are more comfortable seeing two men holding guns than holding hands: Ernest Gaines

If time and space are curved, where do all of the straight people come from: Anonymous

The radical right is so homophobic that they're blaming global warming on the AIDS quilt: Dennis Miller

two new blogs

2006-11-24T00:24:00.000-08:00

1. newsofuse.blogspot.com: this one deals with the news, announcements of every kinds. not news news i would say but something that would be of help to amateurs, novices, interested et al.

2. cinemaframed.blogspot.com: my love of the celluloid

Good news; guess i am off to Tilonia now

2006-11-16T04:37:00.000-08:00

New Community Radio policy gets Government nod

The Union Cabinet on Thursday finally decided to grant permission to non-profit organisations and educational institutions to set up community radio stations as recommended by the I&B Ministry and subsequently cleared by the Group of Ministers (GoM) headed by Sharad Pawar.
Apart from educational institutes, civil society and voluntary organisations, State Agriculture Universities, Krishi Vigyan Kendras, registered societies and autonomous bodies and registered public trusts can also apply for community radio station (CRS) license.
To apply for a license a non-profit organisation should have a proven record of at least three years of service to the local community and the CRS should be designed to serve a well-defined local community.
Individuals, political parties and their affiliate organisations, organisations banned by the Union and State governments as well as organisations operating with a motive to earn profit will not be allowed to own a CRS.
The Cabinet also authorised the I&B Ministry to finalise the terms and conditions and procedures.

this calls for some good work now. it isn't something that is new at all. there are successful stories of good community radio set up in Kachch, Orissa, Bihar and rajasthan
and even in tsunami.

let's see where it goes

Another favourite and book review

2006-10-13T05:46:00.000-07:00

The Red Jaguar on the mountain
Ranjit Lal
Daydreaming is one activity that stimulates our cells when we are young, in school. With our eyes open, gazing into the air, we create a course of events that is a story. Reality is touched with fantasy being the dominant tone. At times, it is the opposite also and eventually the whole gamut of things turns out to be one engaging ordeal for the child. Say something like a Hardy boys’ adventure.

Now, there is the problem!

Adults generally miss what the kids actually see. Ergo, they dismiss it as a figment of child-like imagination. But the ones who continue to weave endless threads together, end up being Ranjit Lal. His book The red Jaguar on the mountain is like a higher step in the evolution of his dreams.

Here he plays with the human psyche creating an atmosphere of which urban legends, adventure novels and engrossing stories are made up of.

Thirteen-year-old Anirudh, the protagonist narrates a story of his summer trip in the wilderness of a hill station called Sonekote. As a young lad, he is immensely interested in mystery and cars. Donning the mantle of a raconteur, he relives an incident that involved him, his teacher and guardian Ms Kohli and Kavita, the hotel owner where they stayed.

Lest we forget, a chirpy little girl called Shaila, who is first seen as a burden and then a sharp partner in crime by Anirudh. The twist in the tale is stemming from a red coloured E-type Jaguar, a roaring beast on the road as he puts it.

The tale starts simmering from the moment he discovers the car. Then, the strange course of events that happened before and the ones those are about to.

The book’s simple language, pictorial quality (both in terms of words and illustrations) and the tone that is purely conversational make it an interesting read that can be enjoyed by anyone.

Not a moment wasted; there are endless situations that the reader begins to probe himself because the child inside starts daydreaming suddenly. Though the reader still oscillates between reality and imagination. Yet, he imagines it all to be real by dismissing imagination with a smirk.

The problem continues!

one of my favourites

2006-10-13T05:37:00.000-07:00

I am a fan of Chirstopher Boone and Mark Haddon. Introduced to me by Kris, Chris turnes out to be the people i identify the most with after Holden Caulfied from Catcher in the Rye.
Last night as insomnia took over, i realised reading to be worthwhile than writing or wasting my time on the Net. i picked it up after i recalled that i hadnt had the chance tp read it in the past one year almost. so i did and did I happily sleep after that..... BLISS!!!!!!!!!

A boy, an autistic and living in his own cocoonish world, is brilliant at mathematics because he practices and admires logic. Extremely methodical for every aspect in and around his life, even if that means dissecting the reason behind a joke. Why people react in a manner they do and how should he react is something he ponders over? Then one day his neighborhood dog is killed and he attempts to solve the crime - recording his adventures in his journals.
Mark Haddon’s The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime is a story told in a highly unlikely narrative from the point of autistic teenager Christopher Boone. Complex ideas, as they seem to the ‘normal’ world, are taken together and put into a fascinating and easy to understand story.

The boy, who has been put into a school that has children with ‘special needs,’ is unable to understand why people look at him this way. Siobhan, the teacher, is the only person he likes talking to as she talks to him in ‘clear terms.’ She is the one who inspires him to write a book that he can read himself. Boone likes murder mysteries, as they offer a puzzle to solve. And when one actually happens along with a few others, his excitement goes on a higher level and the reader is taken along with.
The book begins on a simple note that looks like a diary entry, something Boone calls grabbing the reader’s attention. Soon, you are going to fall into Christopher's world. His ideas and views are very unique and those are very far from other people. Has peculiar habits which actually provide respite in stressful times. His first love is maths and astronomy, and animals because they cant tell lies.
The novel is downright realistic despite being a work of fiction because the ending is neither happy nor sad. This helps all of us think about the people like Boone in this real world. Once you’ve finished reading, we can imagine Boone’s future in over a hundred ways, which is where the interesting part lies.
Sadly to say, species called humans is very clever that we all are inclined to criticize and destroy the other's sense of value. Everybody has it's own happiness, some people hope to have similar happiness or dream but others are not. As long as it doesn't mess or hurt other people, we don't have any right to take that away from other people or in simple words, destroy them.
After reading this book, one can realize that it is indeed difficult but tolerance is very important in the human society.

A part of this entry was my review for HT NExt. the first book review i had written and thankfully it was appreciated. amazing piece of work this book is.

who rthe people

2006-10-12T07:36:00.000-07:00

there are 32 visitors in the last days.
why didnt i get any comment.
hmm thats okie
moonstruck is alone as his moon

interesting to some extent

2006-10-12T07:28:00.000-07:00

Found this on a blog called stinkinjournalism.blogspot.com written by a (frustrated) journalist who is just too angry with the people and the system.
This piece is called Animal Farm Revisited. I typed Animal Farm on Google to find out different articles on one of the greatest books of the 20th century. and found this.
Written with anger, this one tries to oh i forgot the guy who writes this calls himself CAtcher of stink. wonder where does that come from. he wants to catch the stink be it in gossip or articles or coverage etc etc. and Jerry guess who he mentions - Shreevatsa
he in one of his articles tries to rip apart Nevatia's article on Krish and Superman.
so anyway in an extremely loud self congratulatory note Stink guy writes this ode to the novel.
worth giving a look or so i thought...

Animal farm where we work

The invasion of the predators, the cool as a cucumber arboreals sitting and just watching them fight. These monkey like creatures think that by sitting on top they are higher. Or is it that they are scared and complacent that they have been put on a branch.
There is another species that of the four legged ones, those who run in the race and few simians' descendants see riding them as a sign of pride.
So these horses, ponys, mules, asses, etc etc are the ones taken for granted. They will work no matter what. Because they have faith in their riders, or the ruling ones. The poor ones believe that they have to continue with the hard work and sooner or later when a predator is old enough to be graciously kicked into oblivion, they will be promoted. Alas, that moment is literally once in a lifetime.
Among these, there lay a donkey. He is quite often confused as an ass and highly inferior to a horse. But no, he is quite intelligent. He is the rebel without claiming to be one and he has a cause - work my way or i choose the high way, and you better stay out punk.
Infact, he is quite inspired by Clint cause with him you better know what you ask for PUNKK!!
His intelligence is not in crying foul, or proving how imbecile just like the predators. All that he does is choose a different grassland each time the current one totally dries out.

He has a choice! (Think)

Now back to predators.

They do not have a class, standard, or sense. Their culture, is agriculture.

For them, the patch of the grassland is theirs and dare no one enter that. Too bad, they don’t know it is a mud swamp. Usually their interest area is not what they have or own, or have chosen. But, what the others possess. Some by the virtue of sycophancy, others (feminine) by their anatomy that is pushed up and very few by the idiocy of their hard work and basic intelligence. Like it was mentioned in the prelude, people above ZERO IQ are doofuses.

Their basic principle, apart from flattery, ass-licking and low standards, “My success is dependent on others’ defeats.”

Hmmmm makes a lot of sense.

So people, there begins the saga of Journalismahabharata.

This prologue paves way for the fables that maketh the newsroom one animal farm.

Adios

wishlist 2 - what i would love to hear when i am riding

2006-10-06T05:34:00.000-07:00

My dream of owing and riding the bull has finally come true as i got my cherry red double chrome coloured Electra last month. Often i would ride way long back when i was in jaipur, with the walkman plugged in my ears. i remember how i used to go crazy as i drove to Kookas listening to These are the times by INXS. Or how the whole feeling of the bad boy got into me when Thoroughgood went bad to the bone. So folks here it is, from the easy rider, the ones that raise the spirits while roaring on the beast. (and the ones who are crazy for motorcycles alike)

1. Bad to the bone by George Throughgood:
And when I walk the streets Kings and Queens step aside Every woman I meet They all stay satisfied I wanna tell ya pretty baby Well Ya see I make my own I'm here to tell ya honey That I'm bad to the bone

Now way back in 1994, when i saw the movie T2, I was freaked out of my senses to see a beast so heavy on the road. No wonder the name was Fat Boy Harley. the potato grumble, terminator taking the glasses with ease and off he goes, i vividly remember how i used to imagine that by sitting on an imaginary harley. then when i rode a yezdi in 1996, I kept going to the song and thought of myself as Arnie, tee hee. the quintessential motorcycle song for me.
The moment i press the decompressor, give a powerful kick and pick up my brown aviators (i ride wearing them in the night as well), all that i say is BBBBBBADDDD To the Bone

2. Riding with the King by BB King & Clapton:
You can see it in his face, the blue never lie.
Phew! Right from the very first notes, cool wind in my face and the thumper going sturdy at 80 on the clean road with the street lights shinign bright, could there be a better song. oh i forgot, a good high. I remember the second week, me riding with Aditi, spirit intoxicated thanks to the feeling at that time, all i could imagine was a chevy going past me with the KING and Clapton waving at me and singing this one.
When i checked out the royal enfield website some time back there was an article about whats bigger pride than riding a bullet. The author concluded by saying the pride of owning one.
that is the song i would sing with a beer bottle in hand in tribute to my bike. AHHH, i am already daydreaming and smiling. Dont you know you're riding with the KINGHHHH!!!!! (PS I did the artwork myself on the pic here good na)

3. Dream on By Depeche Mode:
Can't you feeeeeeeellll a little love!!!!
and the acoustic follows.
This is the one for the highway, high on corex and two joints. or waitin for the sun to go down as you are atop the cliff with a bottle and a smoke. as the air calms down, the spirit mellows. and you feel one with the world, and with the one you love. you dont need physical presence, the solitude is yer partner and as the golden one bids ye goodbye you just say Dream On, Dream on.
After i saw the video It's no Good from Ultra, the voice of Dave Gahan was immensely deep. Not just the baritone but the way he felt while he sang it. DM is a band one can not classify in any genre whatsoever. their music evolves with each album. What was there in Ultra was totally different when they came out with Exciter. For long i desired that if i were to be a sex symbol God, make me a clone of Gahan. the ultimate cool, composed image of this heavy voice rocker with a white vest, blue denims, shades a la aviators and short hair singing atop a moving wagon. Tip: Ride your beast at the speed of 60-70, with just one hand and taking drags with ease. And then Dream On........

4. Baba o Reilly by The Who
Its only teenage wasteland
Sally take my hand, travel far crossland
Put out the fire, dont look past my shoulder
the exodus is here, the happy ones are near
let's get together, before we get much older...
Could there be a better song to exemplify when yer happy, liberated and excited. Could there be a better song that pleases us while we get older. the 60s came and went few gems like these never get old. i can just imagine how my script 'Brave New World' ends with this. In fact i remember one of these days in the October sunshine, i wrote two scripts. the first became the opening chapter of my novel. the other turned out to be this science fiction cum drama cum i dont know what movie where in talk about the final destruction of the forces onthis planet. and how this world becomes one, humans and animals and life. there after an entire script took shape and i called it after one of my favourite authors' works. i hadnt read his brave new world at that time. but imagined what it would be like.
Now why i chose this as abike song is difficult to explain. for a lot of you, this may seem as the most inappropriate chart here but to me these songs are images. images of me free, riding happily to a destination far crossland i dont know. i see green fields, and sunlight tickling the clouds, dew drops frolicking with leaves, birds that tweet and chirp when they see me, a road that leads to nowhere but has a destination - i dont want to know that as i jus keep riding.... i dont need to fight, dont need to forgiven, dont need to be talked just me and a soulmate who holds me from behind. that would be celebrating love in its purest way.

these are the ones that are mellow, soft and just songs that are fun...
Part 2 of the list is the heavy stuff, theones that melt heavy gear, pound the shock absorbers, and burn the rubber heavily. these would be the ones we imagine as we take the next streetfight....
smoke time and the saga continues..... BRING IT ONNNNNN

cinema paradiso (The list begins)

2006-10-04T05:20:00.000-07:00

Out here in the perimeters there are no stars, out here we are stoned immaculate...
After gulping down a bottle of beer decently (i drink beer as if it is going to be out of fashion tomorrow) one corex (I Tull you it is so soothing) and a joint, it was time to treat ourselves a list of cinemascopic delights. The location was Varun Cobain's office and the mood, Sunday coupled with October sunshine. could there be a better time to retrieve the expressions that once came out of pure love for the silver screen and have taken a back seat thanks to my work. So here i go.....

1. Night on Earth by Jim Jarmusch
Now Jarmusch was an unknown identity till I saw the philosophical Dead Man starring Johnny Depp. Gary Farmer was outstanding in the movie as NOBODY. It is painful to sit through Jarmusch's creations as they really move as per their own pace. To few it might seem boring but if you love cinema, and the beauty that goes behind it, this director will always impress you. Secondly, if every movie is fast-paced as Ocean's Eleven, then the passion will be missing. Just as Soderbergh lost it in Ocean's Twelve.
So this is about night, trademark Jarmusch stuff, where in he tells the stories of five cab drivers in different cities - Los Angeles, New York, Paris, Rome, Helsinki in that order. Ryder is the first chapter as the constantly smoking and driving a fucked up cab. Gena Rowlands is a telent agent, rich woman who is missing something or something is missing in her life. She reluctantly ends up offering Ryder the chance to be a movie star that the latter confidently yet with some hesitation refuses as she wants to be a mechanic.
Next stop, the big apple has this black trying to go to Brooklyn in chilling winters but unable to finda cab. To his rescues comes this migrant driver who cant drive and was a clown. His name is the ice breaker for the two, Helmut. Esposito who is now driving the cab as Lampshade Helmet can not is making fun pf the name while he picks up his girl friend. Armin Stahler gives a charming performance as the tourist cum migrant who is spellbound by New York and though confused tries to smile in a different culture. It is about brotherhood and the bonding two stranger males share on a small journey.
Third is another migrant cabbie from Ivory Coast who is hired by a blind girl in Paris. Here comes one of the funny and profound lines in the movie - "Dont blind people usually wear sunglasses?" "How would i know, i never seeen one." The conversation is philosophical yet simple in tone. and for a viewer who does not know french, the language is not a hinderance.
Fourth and the funniest story has Roberto Benigni as the gregarious Gino who picks up an ailing man. He talks too much and all of it is really funny. i died laughing hearing the confessions benigni makes. And so did the man, who couldnt tolerate Gino;s words. Benigni is over the top, loud, blabbermouth and a laugh-riot. That my friend is the amazing mixture of humour and
comedy. You see humour is what Frasier would be and comedy is what Friends is. Comedy makes you laugh there and then and thats about it. Humour keeps tickling you till the end and then even after you saw the movie. I am laughing as i recount the story of Gino fucking a sheep and then his sister in law. and how he plays on the roundabout as the 'Bishop' is confused.
Last stop, Helsinki. An industrial worker gets laid off and he and his compatriots discuss the bleakness and unfairness of love and life and death. Another funny piece - Hey, Aki, wake up!
Who the fuck are you? And where the fuck am I?
You're in a fucking taxi, fucking close to your home, and you owe me for the fucking ride!
It is sad but worth watching.
The movie begins with a song that is a sung by a lunatic, or so it seems in a gruffy voice that is pissing off and a kind of song that cant be classified. But it is good - the singer is shot at the end of the title sequence. I liked the piece that plays before and after every story. and the wacth sequence that displays time in all these places one by one.
Jarmusch loves playing with human psyche, and weaves a story that is not plot-based but situation-based. this is the stuff that makes westerns, you will not miss much as there is a situation and not a plot. So if the black migrant cab driver is flummoxed it is because he is surpirsed the ease with which the blind girl lives. If there is brotherhood between Helmut and YoYo, that is because unknowingly they both need each other. And so the story rises from the day to day happenings.
This is what happened with Depp in Dead Man.
The original title of the film was (all small characters) "lanewyorkparisromehelsinki" and I was surprised to read that Jarmusch wrote this script in 8 days flat. Isnt that phenomenal!
It is and so is the movie.... Check it out.
Out for a smoke and then another flick

saari utar gayeee

2006-09-29T06:28:00.000-07:00

the last two times i was at morrison, the blissful experience of drinking beers in solitude penning down words turned out to be miserable.
the first time it was an old woman who ended up calling the fucking cops because as per her some 'MAYN' (man) stole 25,000 rupees from her wallet that she forgot in the loo. i was surprised to see her as the lady was in her late 40s and was in an attire and mood that I thought she had lost her way back home. she went upto Roman and asked him to play hindi numbers. never heard Sonu nigam crooning to the strumming of a fender but this lady believed she could hear this in morrison. next she asks for punjabi numbers. worse, she says dont you even have OMKARA. Roman was like looking at me puzzled. so was i, especially when i saw her do a Rakhi Sawant jhatka-matka on Robert Miles. already i was bugged as miles was playing after rammstein, and then this. could not have been more. like that would happen.
anyway, i saw her emptying her big bag on the bar table. a bead rolled upto me and so i was like aunty this belongs to you. next thing, aunty is complaining to me as if i am her agony aunt. compalining softly about the steal, she asks me to help her. are you crazy, i am high by that time (guesss 6 beers down). BOOM. She shouts at the top of her voice and the music stops. Morrison was telling about the Indians scattered and dawn's highway bleeding. there was a group of five and two guys (one yours truly) who had to wake up to the howling. the hour goes by. another one.....
when i came out all pissed coz the woman also pointed her finger at me and all that beer was lost in a fit of anger. PHEW

Last night was no good. being an open jamming night, there was Mohit from this PR agency jamming withthis band that seemed really neat. to my left was a fuchcha group to the other, there was a school kids' gang. and i knew one out of each. so was introduced with these monikers only. what pissed me off was that i saw this HT Sports guy with his girl and three more friends. the idiot was busy looking into the air, onthe ground, at the wall poems, evrything except me who was standing two feet away from him, facing the doofus.
i remember when i was at QBA, the last HT party where iwas taken home coz i really took too much, i had asked nandini a question - Why the fuck is HT so disjoint and why dothey need a beer to say hey hi how are you. i never knew this girl Anuradha, but we were having shots in the group and so i came to know her. till the next day i was asking sush who was that girl in white.
what nandini gave an answer went over my head as i was high and it was noisy. had a joint with pirate, few drinks down and just lost. it sort of sucks when you discover this kind of strange behaviour. i mean how hard was it for that guy to say a hello at morrison. and the very chut sais a hi to me when i walked inthe office. i was like fucker!!!

now you see i dont have a problem; i have fuckin problems, plural.
as i finish typing this, i learn that the two bottles of beer and one corex i gulped down in the afternoon has also vanished from the head. ...
saari ki s

my heart goes back

2006-09-27T05:51:00.000-07:00

moonstruck exemplified

to mcleod ganj and photography

Inquisitor

trip-o-caffeine

Ego (t)rip

Singin' ol' blues

I like this high

Grow up Peter Pan!

Joker and the thief

25 (Random) things about me

Just randomly...

It is a new year a'rite!

The shadow walker

Viva Santiago! (Probably in Santiago?)

The last resort

The Rattler

Lets talk about her darling

Scornful!!!

Self-Indulgence

A string strummed and a riff wasted

Things people say...

The A-list of B-grade things

Side business

freedom

The glass slipped

Diamonds and rust

Walking in the shadows

As cool as it gets

And so it turns out...

The ugly duckling

chaotic unison

the library

Smiling

Aargh!

Back!

Tell me Oh dear tarot.....

Strange day

Singlehood!

Fuckin Bad Day!

Marital bliss... damn

From SAJA

the breakthrough

Cryptic language or plain idiocy

Hard soul or hands off approach...

Psst.. Do you do Drugs?

And I wonder...

Chance meeting (Part 2)

Wandering Scribe is out

Chance meeting

All eyes on darfur

What the fuck is this?

soul scattered; time for a rebirth

Blogroll

are you gay Mr?

lunatic chaos

How to talk to girls at parties

from where it all began

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

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

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

Secret diary of Greg Chappell in W Indies

Dreamy talks Part 2

The two-faced soul (double entendre? naah)

dreamy talks

UGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH

ne plu ne plah

Wet dreams or explicit, this is all about good sex!!

.................

Prelude - Hollow echoes

Double or Die/Young Bond 3

The Oudh Nights

The miseducation of women by James Tooley

Recovered from Hiatus

I (don't) feel good

It doesnt get worse than this

The contrast and trapped in between

Prelude

interlude

few interesting smirks that accuse genders

two new blogs

Good news; guess i am off to Tilonia now

Another favourite and book review