Conversations with Self

Moved.

2008-04-04T02:44:00.000-07:00

To....

http://wabbster.wordpress.com

Amen.

Chronicles of the Thunderful Bird! - 1

2008-03-09T03:01:00.000-07:00

He was an average Tamilian, on a Karnataka registered bike, with a learner’s license from Mumbai. The thought of it made him smile. He turned the odometer knob to make it read ‘000’ as his father yakked away instructions – a list of dos and don’ts, one might call it. He kick-started the bike to life and the ‘Bird obligingly thundered.

“Call me every hour”, his fathered muttered amidst the thumping of the bike.

“Every hour? How about I call you every time I stop for a smoke?”

“Don’t smoke a lot.”

“Then don’t expect a lot of calls.”

A quick wave and he was off. His first bike trip since he moved to Mumbai.

---

There isn’t a lot that I expect when I do road trips. It is my expression of freedom. Freedom from home, from work, from, well, life! This was my sixth road trip and my fifth alone. I don’t mind riding alone, in fact, I enjoy it. I relish the lack of additional responsibility a pillion brings. I love the fact that I can think of a song during the ride and head-bang to it without having to make anyone uncomfortable.

---

Sunrise on the highway is a biker’s dream, he was told once. He, on the other hand, found it rather unnerving. The visor was dirty and cracked in a few places. He cursed himself for not having it changed before he started. But then, it was typical of him to ignore the minor details. He was not too fussy about preparations. All he needed were three things, his ‘Bird in good running condition, fuel and a destination.

Life was a road trip, he concluded. Different folks, different strokes and different gears! Some like to plan it, some people don’t. Some people actually put their plans to work whereas some take things as they come. He believed he was more like the latter.

---

I didn’t know the way to Nashik. All I had was a ‘fair idea’. That’s cowshit talk for not having a clue.

Borivali to Thane. Thane to Nashik. That was the plan.

The first fifty kilometers were slow, mostly because I didn’t know the route. The first thirty kilometers included a lot of stopping and asking for directions. There were only two turns, one to Thane and the other to Nashik. I was on the right track.

---

A hundred kilometers in ninety minutes. The biting chill threatened to ruin the exhilaration but a well timed cigarette break kept the excitement levels up.

A quick sms session followed by a call to his mother ensued during the cigarette break. It was cold and he had completely forgotten to take into account the fact that he was going to a colder city.

But where there is a Wills, there is a way, he thought and took another long drag off his cigarette.

---

In no time, I was in the middle of Igatpuri. The beauty of the place has to be seen to be believed. The mountainous roads give you the illusion of being dangerous but they are pretty harmless, unless you start gawking at the scenery while on the bike (which I did). Oh well, the oncoming truck had pretty effective horns, so, in a way, I was saved by a horny truck driver.

I stopped for my second break about fifteen kilometers from Nashik. A quick sms to A about logistics followed.

---

Taj Hotel, she told him. He was still ten kilometers from there. Time for a smoke and this time it was at a Mallu tea shop. He was amazed at the fact that he could find one here, but it made him feel at home for some reason.

---

A few minutes later, I was in Nashik. The 'Bird drew a well received 'oooh' from A and a few moments later, we were at A's place...

Two days of awesome fun. Double breakfasts, beer at 4:30 pm, roaming around the streets of Nashik with no helmet on, shopping for trousers at Big Bazaar, dinner with A's folks, a photo session the following morning and off to Mumbai.

---

The return was less eventful. A traffic jam in the middle of the hilly Igatpuri and Thane meant his return journey would take him an hour longer.

As the 'Bird turned left on the Link Road towards Gorai, he had a big smile on his face. A mental checklist was being ticked off – road trip, check; to Nashik, check; meet A, check; kick some ass on the highway, check; plan next road trip...

Well, that could wait for a while, he thought. And he had a feeling he wouldn't be alone then.

Amen.

Indian Idiots - III (Indian? Racist!)

2008-01-12T14:00:00.000-08:00

You can also read:

Indian Idiots - I (patriotism guaranteed, conditions apply)
Indian Idiots - II (People and Eating Outlets - Bad Combo)

Or.... You can just go ahead and read on!

---

Pseudo people – they piss you off, don’t they? Pseudo-secularists, pseudo-politicians, pseudo-evangelists, pseudo-friends, pseudo-feminists – the list goes on and on, the length and breadth of human hypocrisy, endless.

What irritated me most about the recent events in Australia, involving the Indian and Australian cricket teams, is precisely this hypocrisy – this presumption that we, Indians, are an angelic set of people, who have been oppressed for eons and that that is the only thing that separates ‘us from them’.

First, the whole ‘us’ concept is the very start of segregation. Racial, national, or international, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is, when you say ‘us’, you’re automatically saying there’s a ‘them’ and that they’re ‘different’.

Second, aren’t Indians racist too? Okay, agreed that we faced all that discrimination from the firangs and all that, but even when we were being discriminated against, didn’t we come up with the caste system? Didn’t my ancestors say that they’d become impure if they came in contact with a shudra’s shadow? Didn’t they monopolize learning, power and all the opportunities? Okay, this was in the past. So, it really shouldn’t matter now. Let’s talk about what’s happening now. A few examples here and there and I’ll prove that you and I – and most Indians – are, in fact, racist bigots.

When you laugh at a Sardar joke, you’re a racist.
When you imitate a Mallu accent, you’re a racist.
When you call all South Indians “Madrasi”, you’re a racist.
Here’s a riddle – Why won’t you find a Raymond showroom in Pakistan? – Because there aren’t any complete men there. Funny? You’re a racist.
When you call Telugu people “Goltis”, you’re a racist.
When you call Malayalees “Mallus”, you’re a racist.
When you call Tamilians “Katpadi” and/or “Kongas”, you’re a racist.
When you call anyone from North East India / East Asia “Chinkis”, you’re a racist.
When you call Bengalis “Bongs”, you’re a racist.
When you’re looking for a fair bride/groom in your matrimonial, you’re a racist

(list incomplete)

We are racists. So, don’t go around acting hurt when someone calls you one, you hypocrites. And just because you got caught being one, don’t make a big fuss. Apologise and get it over with.

Oh and a happy new year to you!

Amen.

Changes...

2007-11-24T05:27:00.000-08:00

One of the many things that I enjoyed in Bangalore was the fact that I could start my bike any time I wanted and go anywhere I wished. Mysore, Chennai or even Hampi! That’s certainly the best of the many good things about living alone, I guess.

But now, now that I’m in Mumbai, living with the family, the small things that I’d been taking for granted has become a rarity in terms of occurrence.

Like smoking, for example. In Bangalore, I could smoke wherever, without fear (of getting caught and/or being lectured by someone) and without any guilt. And it’s very easy to get into that sort of a routine, harmful as it may be.

Now, I have to sneak out of my house, get to the terrace, look around if the coast is clear, light one up, look around some more, and in between the looking around, take a few precious drags of the nicotine-filled carcinogen. And I’d never be able to finish an entire cigarette. By the time I finish half of it, I realise it’s not worth all the trouble. The cigarette has stopped ‘helping’. Couple that with the fact that I have to sneak back into my own house like a thief and rushing to the bathroom before anyone breathes and smells my deed, the guilt trip just makes the smoking totally not worth it.

When I’m at work, however, between bouts of jobless Wikipedia-ing (and sometimes, more recently, working), I manage to slip out for a smoke. This gives me the best pleasure. A coffee and a sutta – the best bloody combination. Sometimes, I wonder if it’s the cigarette I enjoy or the lack of guilt that I’ve come to associate with it these days.

So many other things have changed now. For example, I’m sharing a room with my brother. What’s even weirder is the fact that I’m not protesting. I’ve come to accept it as a phase. My brother, I’ll be fair now, is a pretty bearable roomy and he does respect my need to be left alone every now and then.

A lot of things annoy me, still. In Bangalore, I was so used to enter an empty house, devoid of any human presence that every sound now has become an irritant. I wake up with a start every time the maid turns the fan off. I wake up again when she turns it back on. The constant yammering of my mother annoys me and my dad’s racist utterings (still) piss me off.

But its home and I love it. I love it for its quirks and I love it because it’s the only thing that’s mine. I love my parents because they love me for no apparent reason. I love the nag in my mother and I love the snags in my dad! I love my sibling now and it’s not just because he’s my brother.

I don’t have a lot of friends in this city now, I don’t have a girlfriend now and I don’t think I’m enjoying my work a lot, but I am not distressed. Its life and I love it for some reason. Everyday in this city looks like an adventure although it’s routine!

But you know what the best part about being home is? BED COFFEE!

Amen.

2007-11-16T13:19:00.000-08:00

The Mahindra Renault Logan is, quite literally, butt ugly.

Amen.

Moved!

2007-10-28T06:43:00.000-07:00

The blog hasn't moved. I have. To Mumbai.

Special thanks to:

1. Everyone at work: For throwing me an awesome 'get the fuck outta here' party.
2. Shireen and Rabin: For coming down from Chennai to see me off.
3. The Crapper: For all the beer and conversation I barely remember (blame it on the beer!).
4. The rest: For calling/messaging their goodbyes.
5. Uncle Mike: For being an amazing boss/mentor/friend throughout my stay at Infy BPO - Deutsche Bank.

Amen.

Conversations...

2007-10-23T09:51:00.000-07:00

Parul: hehe.. and the movie is short and has an impact

me: Hrm. That's what I say about porn.

Parul: oh god!!

Amen!

Of work and optimised shit.

2007-10-19T16:01:00.000-07:00

Oh well... A fart post now.

This happened to me a few months ago.

We were called for a meeting at work, or a huddle as it is called, one day. As was the tradition then, I was in-charge of keeping the minutes of the meeting, no wait, huddle.

Anyways, I was furiously doodling on a piece of paper as my manager was discussing (well, calling it a discussion would be pushing it since he was the only one talking) things I don't remember now.

I had had a potato-cheese sandwich and (very) cold buttermilk for brunchinner (breakfast/lunch/dinner for the uninitiated). Because I used to have just one meal a day, there was, well, this problem of gas. And the fact that I had potatoes did not help matters either.

Well, I'm sure you'd have guessed by now what happened during the meeting.

I let one rip.

The manager stopped talking, everyone there shifted in their seats uncomfortably. Oh well.. it did not end there.

I now realised I had to say something. An apology perhaps? Ooh, I could also add that I have a chronic problem, you know just an almost preemptive apology for all future farts in the office?

But no, I had to say something stupid. As usual.

I looked around and spoke. Very slowly.

"So, do you want me to add this onto the minutes of the meeting?"

Oh well...

Amen.

A shitty conversation

2007-08-12T08:20:00.000-07:00

Edit: Before you read this, read... this

Nikhil: Now I really know you are jealous. HA HA HA!
16:06 ahem. ok.
so whadelseizup?
me: Nothing at all men. Same shit, even on weekends sometimes. :
16:07 Nikhil: gosh. same shit can happen only if you eat your own shit.
hmmmmmmmmmmm.....
me: Erm.
Not really.
16:08 Same shit happens only if you eat the same thing everyday.
Nikhil: well, that'd be SIMILAR shit then, not SAME
me: Because if you eat something you shit, then it becomes less... shitty.. You know, it changes composition while getting digested.
Probably.
16:09 Nikhil: probably not... shit is shit that cannot/has not been digested.
and for some shitty reason your body decides to assimilate some of it, the rest of it is going to come out exactly the same
me: Not the same...
Similar, perhaps.
Nikhil: maybe some additions, but the same shit's going to be in there anyway.
me: :D
16:10 We should be able to prove it.
Here's a thought.
If you ate my shit and took a dump, would it be me shitting through you?
Nikhil: proceed.
16:11 no, it would be Me shitting your shit.
me: Hrm.
Nikhil: and I'm gonna let that remain just a thought.
me: You'll be like my.. surrogate shitter.
Nikhil: no macha... you got the whole concept of surrogacy(?) wrong.
16:12 me: Okay...
Nikhil: if i ate your shit.... that means You have already taken a dump.
me: Ah, yes....
Nikhil: that means you are already capable of dumping
me: So, if you stole my lunch and ate it.
And THEN took a dump.
Nikhil: EGJJACTLY!
me: You'll be a surrogate then?
Nikhil: you got the point now.
me: Ohkkeeey...
16:13 Nikhil: That, I am willing to do. :) steal your lunch, that is.
me: Okay, just look at food this way then....
It is unprocessed shit.
Nikhil: looked at it that way for a loooong time.
16:14 me: Bon Apetit?
Nikhil: so your lame attempt at crapping me out hasn't worked :D
me: Hrm.
Nikhil: so, shit is processed food?
HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!
nize!
what about Bon Apetit NOW??
me: Heh.
16:15 Shit cannot be processed food.
Nikhil: you go to a grocery store and you see a can of "processed food" you know what you are buying
me: Erm, no wait.
Nikhil: in the same light, food cannot be unprocessed shit.
:D
me: Yeah, you're right.
Nikhil: All hail me.
\m/\m/\m/
me: Hale you.
Kannada version.
16:16 Nikhil: egjactly.
me: :)
I had paneer mattar today.
Expecting polka dotted shit tomorrow. :D

---

Need I say more?

The Royal Ramble

2007-06-20T18:07:00.000-07:00

It’s been exactly two years since I joined Progeon (or Infosys BPO as it is called now).
No yippees and no hoorahs. It’s just another day in the office and yet, I try hard to remember how it was to enter the building for the first time two years ago. And how things have changed since then.

“Eager young minds”.

The mind is young, still, yes. But, eager? That’s a tricky one.

---

I have been a lazy fellow, haven’t I? I haven’t blogged in ages and frankly, I haven’t done much in ages.

I have been working though. The nonsensical meandering has been replaced with something more nonsensical I figure (a little too late for that now!). Work. That’s all I have been up to.

I tell my parents and close friends that I’m working hard for a promotion. My colleagues, well, they all probably think I’m just kissing ass for a promotion. I don’t know what I want, but I know a promotion isn’t something that would motivate me to such madness.

A loner. That’s what I have become. I live alone, nay, I just, am, alone. And for me to realize this, all it took was an accident.

A cyclist turning right without any hand signal had a fresh lease of life thanks to the disc brakes on the ‘bird. Of course, the bike skid and fell on the side of the road and I ended up with scratches all over my body.

Now, when you’re alone, nobody is a phone call away. And that was how it was that day. After the doctor visits and the bandages wrapped on me, guess how many people were there to see if I was okay? None.

My Orkut friend list is about 125 names long. I have 31 fans. I’m not implying anything here, these are just stats.

---

Depression. So, this is how it feels…

---

I miss my mother at times like these. I also realize how insanely selfish I am to miss her only when I’m depressed. Did I miss her when I did my first bike trip? Did I miss her when I got my raise? Did I miss her when I bought my first TV?

Oh well, nobody’s perfect.

---

I think I’ve become too accustomed to my way of life. I’ve become too used to being alone. And I know I’m going to end up alone with a bunch of pets that’d keep dying on me and I know I’d be watching reruns of some sitcom or the other till the day I die.

I also seem to have failed to differentiate between friends and acquaintances. And when I did, my friends disappeared.

---

I walk alone, I walk alone.

Amen.

A question...

2007-06-10T04:55:00.000-07:00

Do cannibals eat diabetics for dessert?

---

Oh well, more to come soon. Sorry I've been away.

NOT!

Amen.

While I was /away.

2007-03-27T06:49:00.000-07:00

Shitloads of things happened.

One, that Woolmer dude was killed.

Two, the Pakistanis crashed out of the World Cup.

Three, the Indians crashed out of the World Cup.

Four, oops I farted again.

Forget one and two, not because I don’t want to talk about the ‘gruesome effect of match-fixing and high expectations’. It’s only because I don’t care.

Now, number three. The Indians – lost to Bangladesh, lost to Sri Lanka, kicked the Bermudians’ asses and ended up crashing out of the world cup.

So, long story short, the Indian team is fucked.

There was this interview on TV last night that caught my attention. Sharad Pawar, the BCCI President, saying there was a need for two teams (I think they’re going to be called “Seniors” and “Blues”) so as to have a ‘healthy reserve’ of backup players, in case the need arises.

That, well, got me thinking.

Here’s my suggestion that would make the BCCI richer and India one kick-ass cricketing nation.

Have one team for every opposition.

Have a team that would play -only- against Australia, one team to play -only- the Lankans and so on and so forth. India A, India B and so on and so forth… If the game gets really popular and more and more teams start playing the game, we can have the MS Excel style India AA, India AB… You get the drift, don’t you?

To ‘tackle’ the minnow teams like Ireland, Scotland and other lands, no, Netherlands, invite galli cricketers and give them some exposure.

I will tell you why this is an amazing idea.

Our country’s population - over a billion. No statistics involved, but I’m guessing more than half of them are cricket crazy. Almost every other guy wants to be a cricketer. By having these opponent specific teams, you’re giving everybody an opportunity to play the game for the country.

Imagine the unemployment problems addressed through this simple solution. It’s not just the fifteen people in the squad that are employed… What about the coach, the physio, the media manager, the butt kisser, the personal cooks, the people who carry the players’ luggage, the bat makers… the list is endless… what about them? They get employment opportunities too, don’t they?

India’s success rate will be high. Even if one Indian team loses to Australia, the other two teams touring Canada and Bermuda will definitely kick ass and get the success rate back to where it should be. This is foolproof, well, not completely. You cannot forget match-fixing there, can you?

Money. The BCCI will get bucketfuls of money. Imagine the amount of money it is making with this current team. And now, imagine the same amount multiplied by the number of ‘India’ teams it has. We can bloody own the ICC with it and still have some change to buy Microsoft.

Advertisers will not lose money because some Indian team will be playing somewhere all the time. They’ll probably fight over ad rights for a number of matches and not just one or two.

The cricket fan will never get bored. Every channel will have some cricket match and he’ll be assured that one side is always an Indian side.

Hm, let’s see, India vs. South Africa… India lost another wicket. Damn!

*change channel*

Ooh, Amul Pakodikar just hit a century against the Fiji team! Whoa!!! I’m watching this match!

Fun fun fun.

This has to be the singlemost awe inspiring idea that the BCCI can actually implement. Yeah, yeah, laugh at me now, but you know you’re going to root for the India SE team when they play the Iceland team.

You watch!

Amen.

This blog is... not dead.

2007-02-23T08:34:00.000-08:00

But will be dormant.

For a while.

Need time.

Need thoughts.

Need.. freshness.

Till then,

Amen.

IRC is awesome...

2007-01-15T06:23:00.000-08:00

Back on IRC. It is fun. Here's why...

¦ 19:17.37 +mallupower : lol kundi isnt registered
¦ 19:17.39 * mallupower is now known as kundi
¦ 19:17.42 * kundi is now known as mallukundi
¦ 19:17.43 +mallukundi : LOL
¦ 19:17.46 +Wabbster : ROFL!
¦ 19:17.48 +mallukundi : oh crap
¦ 19:17.48 +mallukundi : lol
¦ 19:17.51 +mallukundi : got banned from india
¦ 19:17.55 +Wabbster : Hahaha
¦ 19:18.00 +mallukundi : hahaha
¦ 19:18.08 * mallukundi is now known as kundi
¦ 19:18.20 +EmAcS : mallukundi: hmm
¦ 19:18.24 +kundi : haha
¦ 19:18.25 +kundi : want some?
¦ 19:18.32 +EmAcS : what
¦ 19:18.34 +Wabbster : Come get some. :p
¦ 19:18.35 +kundi : its got some putte on it
¦ 19:18.36 +kundi : :P
¦ 19:18.37 +kundi : lol
¦ 19:19.07 +Wabbster : "Dude, this is nuts.." "No, this is buns"!
¦ 19:19.10 +kundi : and therefore i've done the iompossible
¦ 19:19.12 +kundi : The nickname kundi has been temporarily registered to you....
¦ 19:19.16 +kundi : yeeeeeeeeee hawww
¦ 19:19.16 +Wabbster : ROFL.
¦ 19:19.25 +Wabbster : Type /me farts. :D
¦ 19:19.28 +Wabbster : Please?!
¦ 19:19.29 +kundi : lol 2nd ban placed
¦ 19:19.34 +kundi : 2 more channels left
¦ 19:19.38 * +kundi farts
¦ 19:19.39 +kundi : lol
¦ 19:19.40 +Wabbster : ROFL!
¦ 19:19.41 +Wabbster : ROFL!
¦ 19:19.43 Tushar : lol'
¦ 19:19.56 +kundi : Tushar: want some kundi for valentine's?
¦ 19:19.56 +kundi : :P
¦ 19:20.09 +kundi : god i feel like trolling
¦ 19:20.10 Tushar : :-)
¦ 19:20.18 +EmAcS : kundi: bad nick
¦ 19:20.22 +kundi : lol
¦ 19:20.26 +kundi : EmAcS: loosen up
¦ 19:20.34 +Wabbster : Loosen up and let go! :D
¦ 19:20.38 +kundi : now now tell me you dont want a kundi, dont like one?
¦ 19:20.39 +kundi : :D¦ 19:20.45 +EmAcS : kundi: enuf!
¦ 19:20.47 +kundi : yesh let go
¦ 19:20.53 +Wabbster : Don't think like a kundi. :P
¦ 19:20.58 +kundi : haha¦
19:21.05 +kundi : now that i have this nick i have the right to
¦ 19:21.16 +kundi : and the usual line " dont think outta your arse" is going to be so invalid
¦ 19:21.41 +Wabbster : And we don't have to type the whole thing. Ku+(tab) :D
¦ 19:21.53 +kundi : haha
¦ 19:21.58 +kundi : more ideas!
¦ 19:22.06 +kundi : put a kundi in a room and look at the ideas flowing
¦ 19:22.09 * +kundi floats~
¦ 19:22.13 +Wabbster : Hahaha
¦ 19:22.14 +Wabbster : FOTCL
¦ 19:22.59 +Wabbster : Make indicators and call them kundicators :P
¦ 19:23.04 +kundi : lol
¦ 19:23.19 +kundi : now that its registered i can settle for monochrome
¦ 19:23.21 * kundi is now known as monochrome
¦ 19:23.27 +Wabbster : Phew. Wb.
¦ 19:23.35 +Wabbster : monochrome, guess who was here!
¦ 19:23.40 +Wabbster : Kundi!:D
¦ 19:23.51 +monochrome : argh man sinus!
¦ 19:23.53 +monochrome : still pains
¦<¦ Parts #Bangalore : abinitio (elation@72.20.44.77) ()
¦>¦ Joins #bangalore : ce_cuTe_^ (~hancheoet@125.163.84.132)
¦<¦ Parts #bangalore : monochrome (~calm@83.110.125.209) ()
¦>¦ Joins #bangalore : monochrome (~calm@83.110.125.209)
¦ 19:24.55 * Quits: ce_cuTe_^ (~hancheoet@125.163.84.132) (Quit: )
¦>¦ Joins #bangalore : pooo (~cherrry@125.22.62.45)
¦ 19:25.37 +Wabbster : Ah, yeah.
¦ 19:25.41 +Wabbster : pooo?
¦ 19:25.50 +Wabbster : First kundi, now pooo?
¦ 19:25.56 monochrome : haha
¦ 19:26.00 monochrome : lool
¦ 19:26.11 monochrome : talk of coincedence
¦ 19:26.15 +Wabbster : I know!
¦ 19:26.15 monochrome : this is an irc moment of glory
¦ 19:26.24 +Wabbster : I'm posting this on my blog!

And so, here it is.

IRC... is awesome!

Amen

Random crap, again.

2007-01-13T21:03:00.000-08:00

Call it nature's way of rubbing it in, but for the past one week whenever I turn on National Geographic, Discovery or Animal Planet, all I see is lions having sex. Not any other animal, but lions.

It's a completely different thing when I actually stop the browsing and watch the entire.. show...

---

What would the antonym of badminton be? Goodminton?

If I was good at badminton, would I be bad at goodminton?

And vice versa?

Would shuttle cock become grounded hen?

Or, if I'm thinking dirty, would it be grounded pussy?

---

Smoking has reduced to 10 cigarettes a day. It is less during weekends, because I'm sleeping most of the time!

---

I am writing a bio-data for myself.

I get stuck at the 'aim/objective' part.

Needless to say, only 0.2 % of the bio-data is complete.

---

I just realised why I don't have a lot of Iron Maiden songs.

I don't like Iron Maiden.

---

A blog update, just for the heck of it.

Don't we all do it?!

No?

Okay, so, it's just me then.

Amen.

2007-01-03T05:13:00.000-08:00

I feel I’m stagnating. Like the water in the potholes of your street. Not going anywhere, not serving any purpose other than helping baby mosquitoes.

I’m stagnating. I just am. I just exist. A miniscule dot in a huge expanse called life. A static dot.

I can’t talk to anyone about it as well. And when I do, I get dismissed with an ‘it happens’ or an ‘it’s just a phase everyone goes through’. When you’re looking for a conversation to figure our why exactly this happens, you get hit by a wave of phrases like those.

It’s probably because nobody wants to talk about it. It could also be because no two ‘ruts’ can possibly ever be the same. Maybe because nobody knows how exactly it feels for the other person.

I figure most of us have this ‘been there done that’ attitude when it comes to this – this awful feeling of inadequacy that crops up all of a sudden, out of nowhere and knocks the wind out of you so to speak. So, we do tend to get cynical when someone says ‘I’m stagnating’.

For me, the fact that I’m alone gets reinforced here. It’s not that nobody wants to help. They just can’t. I know I need to make changes. I need to move on. I need to tell the mosquitoes to go elsewhere to reproduce. I get that. But how? Where do I begin? (Don’t say from the start!)

My mind’s blocked now. I don’t know where I was headed with this.

Amen.

2006-12-27T05:58:00.000-08:00

Breach: When a task is not completed before a stipulated deadline, a breach is caused.

Violation: When a task is completed in error or a transaction has been entered erroneously, a violation is caused.

I am a good performer. I have breached here and there, but have seldom violated.

Amen.

2006-12-18T12:25:00.000-08:00

(pic by tangled)

Amen.

2006-12-15T04:27:00.000-08:00

Hampi < 12 Hours.

Amen.

Getting there...

2006-12-14T15:48:00.000-08:00

My smoking has reduced. Big time.

I'm worried. I think I should see a doctor.

Amen.

Highway Peejay.

2006-12-12T03:50:00.000-08:00

Q. If you're making out on a road trip, what highway are you on?

A. NH-69.

Amen.

Beta sweater pehenlo...

2006-12-10T21:11:00.000-08:00

Blogger Beta. Hrm. Interesting.

I wish it were a beti though.

I know. I 'll stop.

Amen.

The Date.

2006-11-29T06:30:00.000-08:00

He woke up to the sound of his phone. It was the alarm. He expected nothing else.

"Shit, I'm late!"

He rushed to the bathroom, as he tried hard to get his bearings right. Left turn to the bathroom and the right to the kitchen. It was a tough call he had to make everyday. With the groggy feeling lingering on like a flea to a dog, it was one very crucial choice. For he found no coffee in the bathroom and no toothpaste in the kitchen.

Left!

A song played in his head, and as he tried to remember the words, he made his way into the bathroom. He hated the gel toothpaste, it made his mouth burn. But he had to make do. Anything to get the current taste off his mouth. He turned the geyser on and a few minutes later, the shower.

Once out of the bathroom, he felt slightly elated. Not just because he felt clean for the first time in the past three days, but also because he was looking forward to the evening. He was going to meet her.

He had everything prepared. His best clothes, his best shoes and even his best underwear (which he washed at least a thousand times). He didn't want to screw up!

And cash. Yeah, everyone needs cash to do anything, don't they?

---

They were to meet at a coffee house. He thought it was typical of her to be meeting at a place where coffee was served. She always hung out there. He, on the other hand, didn't think much of these over-priced coffee places. He preferred the roadside vendors who would make his coffee extra strong, the way he liked it.

He didn't mind it though. He was meeting her.

---

She was ten minutes late.

"Sorry, traffic", she said with a sheepish grin.

He lit a cigarette, not saying a word.

He wasn't angry, just relieved. She didn't ditch him.

"Coffee?", he asked finally.

"Cappuccino for me."

He placed the order - two cappuccinos.

"Nice shoes", she said.

"Thanks!" She noticed the shoes.

She did all the talking. He just liked listening to her. And everytime she laughed, he wished she had a rewind button so that he could watch her laugh again and again.

The coffee arrived. He could see a sense of urgency in her now. She gulped the coffee down in a matter of minutes. He wasn't even done with half his cup, when she said, "Did you get the money?"

"Sure, I did."

"Well...?"

"Oh, yes.." He took his wallet out and gave her two thousand rupees.

"Thank you so much."

"No problems."

"This weekend is going to be so cool, the two of us are going to Ooty. Him and me. Alone. Nice, eh?"

"Uh, oh yeah, sounds great."

"Anyways, I'll be off. Got to go pack."

"Okay, have fun."

And with that she left. He finished his coffee, paid and started walking towards his bike, humming ".. I walk alone, I walk alone..."

He looked down and smiled.

She noticed the shoes.

Amen.

Rant - The Infiniteth One!

2006-11-19T05:03:00.000-08:00

There comes a time in one's life when he/she/it is totally frustrated with his/her/its life and everything around him/her/it.

Since this his/her/it thing is taking me too long to vent my frustrations, I'm going to stick to my story instead of generalising things like I do most of the time.

FYI, I know! I should quit generalising things, but heck, like I care.

Disclaimer: I've tried to cut down on the swearing, but if I do swear in the following lines, please attribute it to my very limited vocabulary.

---

Question 1: Why am I pissed?

Answer: Because I spent the entire weekend at home, with my roomies.

Question 2: Why did I spend the entire weekend at home?

Answer: Stupid fever and the running nose. Doesn't really make me an outdoorsy person now, does it?

Question 3: What's wrong with my roomies?

Answer: A lot of things, actually. A lack of basic understanding of how I function is probably one of them.

The one thing that pissed me off big time was the list that one of them made. I know, it was probably made with "humour" (again, something neither of them is capable of).

So, here's the list. It's a list of things, that "make the house dirty".

The house is dirty when:

Any type of plastic is on the floor (Except Wheels and Stool)
Any sort of paper is on the floor
Anybody's hair is anywhere other than the body
Anyone's clothes are unfolded / not hanging
Any vessel is in the sink
Any empty glass / mug is outside the kitchen
An empty / almost-empty polythene bag is lying anywhere in the house
Any amount of dirt / dust is felt under your feet
Any amount of food is stale / left over
Any empty / almost-empty wrapper / sachet / paper box is lying anywhere in the house
Any place in the house stinks
Any floor in the house is slippery
Anyone's shoes / slippers / sandals are outside the shoe rack
A newspaper is not folded after reading
A cockroach / fly / mosquito / any other ugly insect is discovered
A dark spot on a white / off-white object is discovered
Anything other than glue and celotape is sticky

My roommate made it a point to show me the list and said he was going to get the list printed and put it up somewhere.

Hey, I got a place where you have put the list. How about up your ass? Nice going, Einstein.

Apart from the bad English, the list totally ignores the fact that:

a) I'm not the only one making the mess.

b) My mess is negligible compared to the shit they do. I can back it up with examples. That's coming in a completely different post.

c) You are responsible for the mess you make! That's the first basic rule in room/house sharing. Deal with it.

d) WHAT THE FUCK IS THE POINT OF MAKING THIS LIST ANYWAY? Are you trying to tell me that you didn't know that the house was dirty till you actually sat down and made this list?

Let me see... You made the list, you turned around and said, "Oh my God, the house is dirty!" Is that what happened?

Anyways, now that you've made a list of things that make the house 'dirty', I will give you tips on how to keep the house clean.

a) As said before, you're responsible for the mess you make. Not someone else. Especially not someone who's at home during the day. Just remember that I have a job as well and just because it's a BPO, don't be under the impression that I have it easy.

b) If sometimes, you feel that the house is getting extremely messy, don't complain. Do something about it. Remember, you're the one who wants the house to be clean, not me. So, don't mope around and tell me what I should do. Do what you want to do - leave me out of it. If I want to help you, I will.

c) Practice what you preach. I know it's difficult with all of us being utter slobs, but really, if you want to put in place a system which you think might make the house clean, then follow it, please. Lead by example, not by wish-lists. Asshole!

d) Don't act like my grandmother criticising and analysing everything I do. She died of breast cancer, you might too.

Question 4: How am I feeling now?

Answer: Much better....

---

Okay, now for some stuff I'm looking forward to....

A new Royal Enfield Thunderbird.

Ah, I feel so much better now...

Amen.

Random nonsense

2006-11-11T19:52:00.000-08:00

Stand for nothing,
Fall for all,
Believe in nothing,
Trust all.

Amen.

2006-11-11T18:48:00.000-08:00

When I walk, why does that stupid Green Day song keep playing in my head?

I KNOW I'M WALKING ALONE!

Daym!

This sucks, but who cares!

2006-11-07T22:29:00.000-08:00

I don't know what I'm doing. All I know is that.. I'm doing what I'm doing.

But if I knew what I was doing, would I be doing it any different?

And if I were doing it differently, then how different would it have been?

Life works in mysterious ways, doesn't it?

Amen.

PS: There's too much doing, but it's doing no harm!

Boredom, sleeplessness and some bullshit.

2006-10-29T20:08:00.000-08:00

There are certain things I like about myself. One of them is the fact that I can be completely oblivious to what time of the day it is. Well, sometimes, I’m proud of that. Except during when I’m playing Need for Speed all day long and suddenly realise I should be at work in the next ten minutes. That is when I hate the makers of the game who’ve cursed me with such awesome entertainment.

Let me get a bit philosophical here. Again, it is something I’m proud of but at the same time, too much philosophy can also be too much shit. Well, the lines are blurred. My eyesight’s good though, I see it when I’m talking shit.

Anyways, moving on… Not that I want to be caught plagiarising Paulo Coelho here, but I do think the whole universe is conspiring. Against me, for me or for no reason whatsoever, I wouldn’t know, but it is a conspiring universe. Like this lady at work, who couldn't wait for a colleague of mine (of whom I’m not a big fan either) so that she can have ‘full control’ of ‘the team’. It’s not just coincidence that I’m a part of ‘the team’ but also a big pain in the donkey.

There are people who in some way want to get something out of everything. Well, most people are like that, I guess. Some want entertainment, some, a better position in society and some of them, well, money. And if something does not give them anything, they tend to be disinterested.

Like my lack of faith in God (I capitalise the ‘G’, just out of practise, just in case you want to play the you-capitalised-G-so-you-must-believe-in-god card). When I was a kid, physically (my mental age’s a secret), I prayed – for everything.

“God please let there be rain so that I won’t have school.”

“God let me fall sick so that I won’t have to go to school.”

“God please do my homework. I promise I’ll break a coconut for you.”

Bribery – oh well!

“God please let me do well in my exams.”

“God that paper didn’t go well, please let me pass.”

The list is endless. Sometimes when there was a blackout (for which Bangalore was famous for about 10-11 years ago), I’d pray so that the power would come back.

Stupid, nonsensical requests from a kid to an almighty, omnipotent being. Well, I didn’t give a shit. I wanted things done.

And when things didn’t get done, I would sulk and wonder if God really existed. My interest waned when my prayers weren’t answered and when everything seemed more coincidental than it being God’s doing.

So, I “quit” being a Hindu and decided I’d be an atheist. Atheism didn’t get me anywhere either. It didn’t give me anything, anything other than this self imposed image of being a rebel or being unique.

Being unique does get you noticed. But then, sometimes, you get noticed for the wrong reasons. Like when I started to smoke when I was 14, I thought it was cool to be the only kid in the class who smokes. Well, then, my parents found out and so did my teachers at school. What followed was a couple of years filled with counselling, lectures from dad, mom and even the guy who sold me smokes, not to mention a letter of advice from a grand-uncle.

It’s been over eight years now and I haven’t quit smoking yet. Do my parents still give me their lectures? No. Why? Simply because they haven’t gotten the desired result that being me quitting cigarettes. They’re now disinterested when someone says they saw me smoking at a mall or something.

Smoking is not something I’m proud of, but I think it is probably the only thing that keeps me sane. And it’s not because I feel cool or anything. Trust me, I feel less than half as cool as most non-smokers do, I got all the cancers heading my way, I know that. But it’s my decision and I’ve made it myself. It is the ONLY decision that I’ve made on my own and without peer pressure affecting my judgement. So, I will quit on my terms. Maybe when a cigarette stops giving me the kick I want it to give me. I might be… disinterested.

I once remarked that we, human beings, hate to be happy. We get bored of happiness. I think we just hate routine. We don’t like to be confined in any way. And when you’re happy all the time, I think you’re confined to just one set of feelings so that you don’t get to explore the "sea of emotions" you’re capable of.

Well, there are things and there are things. But I think this is something that’s basic and common in all of us.

This quest for happiness/unhappiness, does lead us to some interesting phases in life and as a comment in my blog said, did lead to coffee and chocolate being discovered/invented. But that does not amuse me. What amuses me is the quest. What amuses me is the fact that we want to explore these aspects of life. We’re not like cattle who’re perfectly happy eating grass and giving milk, no. We’re… different.

Whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing, I don’t know. I don’t know because I refuse to have an opinion.

This is another problem most people have. Sometimes when I discuss my observation, someone butts in and says “I disagree”. I mean, you disagree with what I see?

So, I don’t think one can disagree with whatever I’ve said till now, because they’re merely my observations.

Okay, now I'm talking shit. I shall stop rambling here.

Amen.

All the Rights!

2006-10-24T17:21:00.000-07:00

Well, for one, I am irritated.

I've never been so bugged with my life.

I don't love my job. I don't even like it anymore.

The people at work don't seem to like me much either. Although, I'm not all that surprised with that.

I have no aim in life. Unless looking forward to the weekend counts.

I don't do anything during weekends. Unless sleeping is a task.

I smoke a wee bit too much. I have cut down to two packs a day (which is a good thing).

I get tipsy after four rounds of beer. Pathetic.

I am still a graduate.

I don't have a love life. Heck, I don't even have a life.

I hate myself.

Amen.

Happy fucking Diwali.

2006-10-20T16:09:00.000-07:00

Diwali's overrated.

Bunch of goons burning stuff worth thousands of rupees and feeling good about it.

It's more a festival of noise, smoke and discount sales than that of lights.

For me, it's two days of no sleep. Fuckin' 100-walas and 1000-walas still ringing in my good ear, how do you expect me to sleep?

Fuck this shit, I can't write anymore. I'm just too pissed.

Amen.

A perfect day to die.

2006-09-22T16:32:00.000-07:00

Today's just perfect.

No responsibilities. No worries. Nobody cares.

Just hope a truck runs over me on my way home.

*fingers crossed*

Amen.

2006-09-20T14:00:00.000-07:00

Bleh.

The Confusion Prevails...

2006-09-16T14:23:00.000-07:00

I wish I knew.

That's my problem. There are so many things I don't know but want to know about them. And yet, I just expect myself to magically know them. It's like an old joke dad used to crack when I was a kid - use the science textbook for a pillow the night before the science exam and the next day, you'll have no problems balancing that chemical equation or drawing that grotesque diagram for biology or knowing the value of acceleration due to gravity!

Truth was, I could never balance an equation nor was I good at drawing anything although I still do remember the value of acceleration due to gravity.

Growing up is tough. And living by yourself while you do that is tougher. It's like someone has been solving your problems all your life and all of a sudden that person's not there. Where would you go? Who would you look up to now?

I wish I knew.

People hate being happy, I think. They find happiness and they get bored of it. And then comes, well, unhappiness. And then they get bored of it as well. And hence, more unhappiness. It's like a chain reaction and they blame everyone else but themselves for it.

Whatever I've been saying might be cliched, but these are things that I'm thinking about for the first time.

Thought is the enemy. Thought gives us fears, takes us through time, makes us see things we shouldn't or wouldn't. Thought makes us nervous, makes us fall in love, makes us hate. A happy thought is shrouded by the fact that it's just a thought. An unhappy one seems more realistic than anything else.

We're supposed to be the most advanced species in the planet because of our superiour intellect, the ability to think. Well, is it worth it?

I wish I knew.

Amen.

A musical wonder!

2006-09-04T09:12:00.000-07:00

Click here!

The thing about Sonia Gandhi's visit to Bangalore...

2006-09-04T08:08:00.000-07:00

Is that nobody really gave a crap about it. The few people who did make it known by pasting her picture along with a no less ugly mugshot of theirs and added a message "Welcome to Bangalore, Smt. Sonia Gandhi" were all Congress people who just wanted to bask in the Gandhi name's supposed glory.

And the faces are not just in one spot. They are everywhere and not to mention the millions of tricolour flags 'adorning' every nook and corner of the city.

The only people who cared were the ones who were paid to attend the 'rally'. You saw a tempo truck and you can be sure it was filled with these daily wage labourers who have been promised money, food and liquor just so that they bring their asses down to the rally. They don't even have to know who's talking or what he/she/it is talking about. Just clap, cheer and whistle when there's a pause in the speech or when someone's name is called out or when someone's being 'adorned' by garlands and shawls.

Police constable were working on Sunday and so were the, *gasp*, sub-inspectors. The senior officials were turned into security guards, watching every inch of the route "Smt" Gandhi is to take.

I was going back home after having convinced the cops at the airport that my father was actually a passenger (they wanted ID (wrong time for dad not to have his ID with him)). The naturally chirpy autorickshaw driver (I always get chirpy drivers, yes, I'm lucky) remarked, "One visit, saar, look how things turn around."

I was being quiet as usual. He didn't seem to care. He went on:

"One visit and everything is done up. The posters are everywhere, flags, cops. Everything."

"Then thank god Deve Gowda is not the PM anymore!"

"Yes, saar. Correct."

Amen.

Note: Two things actually.

1. The auto driver did NOT speak in English. I translated from Kannada. And no, I did not say "thank god" in Kannada. I wonder how retarded that would have actually sounded... "Devarge dhanyagalu"... yeah, retarded.

2. When Deve Gowda was the PM, he used to visit Bangalore every weekend which resulted in bigger chaos than what happened on Sunday. That was the humour in this post. And now that I've stated it, I think I'll just shut the hell up. Not to mention, I've just ruined the entire post.

Oh well...

Sonia Gandhi's in Bangalore.

2006-09-03T08:22:00.000-07:00

So?

Quote me sometime.

2006-08-25T17:32:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, life sucks.

And the rest of the time, we just don't realise it.

Amen.

Nationalism sucks.

2006-08-15T16:30:00.000-07:00

"I cant beleive someone actually created a community in ORKUT againstus- The Indians!!!! ... There are some people who have started a community 'We Hate India' We have to stop them. please go to this community and click on "report as bogus", orkut will remove that community after 1000 such reports, lets teach a lesson to members of that community

http://www.orkut.com/Community.aspx?cmm=14773994

Thank you in advance.
Regards,
Dave."

---

Dave, no offense, but fuck you.

---

So what if whoever hates India hates India? Do we function only on "love" for India? And seriously, how many of us really really love India? Ask yourself that first. Till then, leave me the fuck alone.

Amen.

Girls have periods...

2006-08-12T23:27:00.000-07:00

...and I have back-aches.

Sigh.

Amen.

...

2006-08-08T13:56:00.000-07:00

No, seriously!

Amen.

Are you friggin' kidding me?

2006-08-04T17:11:00.000-07:00

Okay, it started out as a normal day at around 5 in the evening. I'm watching tv and generally getting my day started. I leave for work at around quarter to eight, so I'm in no real rush. I bathe (an activity I do everyday, unlike public perception/assumption) and am all set to go to work at 7:30. That is when it all started.

I couldn't find my set of keys. It wasn't there at the usual place. Uh, crud, I must have left it in my bag or something. So, I look for it there. No luck, it wasn't there. The thing about me is I don't like the idea of having fancy key-chains and so, my keys are all connected through a ring and that's it - this makes it harder to find them.

So, it's quarter to eight and I can't find my keys. My key bunch not just holds my keys to my house but also to my draw at work which in turn holds my secure id without which I can't 'work'. So, in short, I'm screwed if I lose any of the keys in question.

And so, I was screwed. I couldn't locate the keys, which primarily meant I can't get out of the house and also meant that I wouldn't be able to get to work on time.

So, I call my roomies.

The thing about my roomies is that they think I'm the most disorganised person on earth. Have you ever heard of a mad man thinking every second person is mad? Well, that's my roomies for you. They think they're the cleanest people in the universe. Little do they know I am the one cleaning up their mess once they leave for 'work'.

So, I call my roomies.

Calling Roomy 1 -

Me: Hey do you have my set of keys?

Roomy 1: I can't hear you.

Me (a little louder): MY KEYS! Have you seen them?

R1: I... I don't get you...

Me (switching to my wonderfully fluent Hindi): Keys... My keys.

R1: What about them?

Me: Have you seen them? I can't find them here...

R1: I don't know. I have my set.

Me: Okay, I'll call Roomy 2 then.

R1: No, wait. He's here. Talk to him.

Me: Yeah, okay.

Roomy 2: Hello?

Me: Have you seen my keys?

R2: No, why?

Me: Because I can't find them and I can't get out.

R2: Look for them, they must be where you left them.

This sentence pisses the living hell out of me. "They must be where you left them"? Nice going, Einstein! Where's your brain? No wait, they must be where you left them, right? Asshole!

Me: But they aren't there.

R2: Look properly.

Me: Properly?

R2: They have to be there. Where else would they go?

Me: Okay, I've looked everywhere and I can't find them. You're fucking 10 kms away and telling me that they HAVE to be there?

R2: Okay, okay, rela...

Me: Fuck it, I'll talk to you later. Bye.

And so, the search continued.

I started with the kitchen. Nothing there except for unwashed vessels and coffee stains on the stove.

I looked in the dustbin, just in case I was sleepwalking or something. Maybe I had a dream about me locking my roomies up and setting the house on fire and throwing away the key into a dustbin.... who knows, I have weird dreams anyway.

Anyways, nothing in the dustbin.

I looked under the beds, behind the computer, the television and even the bloody loo. Nothing.

I called my supervisor at work and told him I'll be late, adding the possibility of not turning up to work at all. I told him why.

Sup: Hahaha....

Me: Fuck you.

Sup: HAHAHAHAHAHA...

I hung up.

I gave up searching. I decided not to got to work and cursed myself for getting myself into a pool of shit when I didn't know how to swim. I still couldn't understand how keys could vanish into thin air. I turned the tele on just to keep my mind off things. I hate missing work for something as stupid as this.

Oh well, some time close to midnight, Roomy 2 calls up...

R2: Hey, sorry yaar.

Me: For what?

R2: Your keys... they're with me.

Son of a....

Me: Okay.

R2: I thought they were mine. Really really sorry.

Me: What time are you coming home?

I think I heard a gulp.

R2: At around 12?

Me: Cool. So, I won't be missing work after all. Get your ass down here, asap.

So, the mystery of the vanishing key was solved. I got to work, three and a half hours late, most of my colleagues heard of what happened and they had an amused smile when they saw me. I flipped most of them, I punched one in the face and I stomped on my supervisor's feet. All in all, a productive day.

But nothing is going to save my roomy from the ass-raping he's going to get when I get home after I finish this post.

I'm thinking screwdrivers, pvc pipes and some bamboo.

After I'm done I can sing...

"Na baas ki bansi,
Na sone ka sariya,
Tere gaand me danda re...."

Amen.

PS: A news report says Tendulkar is not a 100 percent fit. Do you give a flying fuck?

2006-07-30T02:09:00.000-07:00

It's weird.

When people say "I don't care", do they really mean it? I mean, if they cared not to care, that would mean they really care.

Tell me to shut up.

Amen.

PS: Actually, don't.

So a kid gets trapped in a ditch.

2006-07-23T07:17:00.000-07:00

But is it really worth all the media coverage?

I mean, do I really need to watch all the news channels have live pictures of people praying for the kid's safe return beamed live to my tv.

It's not that I don't like the kid, in spite of him having a funny name and a goofy hairdo. I mean, what kind of a name is "Prince". He must definitely have parents in denial. So, what are they called, King and Queen?

I really feel sorry for him, but can you please tell me things that really matter? Like whether the cops actually managed to nab the guys who blew up seven train bogies in Mumbai? Did Lebanon get raped more by Jews? Did Bush say any other swear word while taking a piss or jerking off? Did people actually attend the party which will be printed in tomorrow's Bangalore Times' third page? What made Saurav bitter with his ex-boyfriend, Dalmiya? If monkeys are our ancestors, why didn't they evolve?

I mean, aren't there things that are worth covering more than a stupid kid stuck in a ditch? If I were a reporter, I'd have wrapped up the story in less than thirty seconds.

"Sometime on Friday, a boy named Prince (a smirk on my face) fell into a ditch. Curious villagers and police have been feeding him with the help of a rope. He's doing fine and will probably hit puberty by the time he's out. Back to you in the studio."

I'm glad I'm not a reporter. One, no self respecting reporter would cover a story like this. Two, the above "report" just shows me how bad a reporter I would have been anyway.

Okay, screw it, the army has been called. The boy will be out soon, I guess. The army's probably like, "Let's smoke 'im out".

We're a people with misplaced priorities. Well, who isn't anyway?

All the best, Prince.....

....NOT!

Amen.

PS: My roomy's idea of helping the kid. "Give him a floating device to hold on to and pour water till he reaches the top."

Yeah, and the loose mud around him is water proof, right?

And he calls himself an engineer. *shudder*

Okay...

2006-07-21T16:48:00.000-07:00

So, the government has lifted the ban on Blogspot.

Thank you, fuckers.

Amen.

PS: So, is this post a threat to the nation?

Although I don't follow football...

2006-07-09T22:14:00.000-07:00

...I have to ask this...

WTF WAS ZIDANE THINKING?!?!?!?!?

I want pizza!

Drawing a Blank.

2006-07-09T21:41:00.000-07:00

It's the easiest thing one can do, isn't it? Nod. Smile. And maybe a short laugh.

Sometimes, if the bugger's trying to get too chummy with you, a high-five. But that's it. Nothing else.

You don't have to listen to the person, forget understanding what the hell they're trying to tell you. As long as you have a Judas Priest or a Metallica in the background, who cares about what this loser has to say, huh?

And besides, when you got rock in the background, you don't have to worry about the nodding part, do you?

I try to read faces. If they're telling me something they really think I should know, it's probably got something to with sex, sport or a combination of both... in short, something I haven't been doing for a long long time... Lost the flow here... wait...

As I was saying, if they're telling me something they really think I should know, I would know that very instant, I wouldn't be interested in what they're trying to say. When that happens, my mind tells the ears to listen to the drums and not the vocals. You get my drift, right?

If it's a joke and the 'teller' is kind of tipsy at that time, they would have started laughing even before the second syllable is uttered. That's the cue for me to start laughing when they stop talking. How do I know that the person has stopped talking? A lot of you might say, look at the lips, but I look at the eyes. They expect some sort of reaction. That's my cue.

After a short laugh, and maybe a well-advised high five, I turn around and say 'what a fucking idiot' under my breath and everything is alright again.

These are things I do when I'm at a place with loud music and it's really hard to see through the combination of smoke and, well, lack of light. And when a pain in the ass friend's friend happens to be sitting with you. But put me in a place where there's ample light, not a lot of noise and a more tolerable person with me and I will be at my attentive best.

Or will I? Hm...

Amen.

PS: This nonsensical, well, nonsense, was inspired by Shadows' latest post.

2006-07-04T09:11:00.000-07:00

If Progeon had an award for the Most Perverted Employee, I'd win pants down!

Amen.

Pom-poms!

2006-07-02T00:50:00.000-07:00

I don't know...

2006-06-01T21:32:00.000-07:00

These are three words that piss me off no end.

And people say it a lot, don't they? Initially, I thought it was a sickness only the girls had, but of late, I've been noticing almost everyone using it.... sometimes even me.

Well, I'm allowed to use it because I genuinely don't know certain things. For example, I don't know what the time in Tokyo is. I don't even know the time in India sometimes.

What's 289 multiplied by 55? I don't know.

Who was Russia's fourth president? I don't know.

Who was India's fifth vice president? I don't know.

Do people actually read my blog? I don't know.

These are essentially valid questions to which I don't have an answer. There then arises a legitimate reason for the usage of the term "I don't know".

But....

There are a few questions to which the said combination of words do not expunge the need to give the "utterer" a kick in the sack. I use the term "sack" to "fit" all the known genders.

Like...

"Let's go for some coffee, shall we?"

"Um... Er... Well... I don't know..."

*thwhack on the sack*

"What do you want to eat?"

"I don't know... I was....."

*thwhack on the sack*

"Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know..."

*thwhack on the sack*

It seems to me that whenever a decision needs to be made, the "I don't know" fit sets in. Can't people make their minds up? Can't they take control even for a miniscule thing like choosing clothes, ordering food and so on and so forth? I mean, COME ON, is it that difficult?

"Well, er, well, I don't know."

*thwhack on the sack*

Amen.

Coffee can inspire the crap out of you!

2006-05-29T10:26:00.000-07:00

This PJ just popped into my mind when I was making coffee...

What would Ali Baba say if he wanted the sugar in his coffee to dissolve instantaneously?

"GHUL JA, SIM SIM!"

*ducks the eggs & rotten tomatoes*

----

Quite a lot of "current" issues to talk about. It's not that anyone cares for my opinions, it's just that I give them anyway.

1. Reservations: "I hope reservations happen. It's the only way out. I don't know why one has to stop at 27 %. What's 27%? Twenty seven meritorious students out of a hundred won't get seats in government owned institutions because they're not backward enough. So be it. We still have the other seventy three students who'll at least complete the course!"

As ridiculous as it may sound now, two or three years later I'm sure that's how one's going to look at things.

I don't understand the concept of reservations. Is the quality of a society represented by representation alone? Since when?

It's like bollywood movies dedicating one hour to meaningless songs that are being put there just for the heck of it. Well, not for the heck of it, if you think about it twice or maybe thrice.

Coming back to what I was saying, if you want to have reservations, reserve some seats for the physically challenged in public transport. Reserve money for infrastructure. And reserve a huge chunk of that money for primary education. Reserve effort to curb the dropout rate.

Get the kids from the slums and the chai-shops - not to mention places like Sivakasi - to go to school. And by the time they're old enough for college, you won't need to reserve seats for them in IIMs and IITs and what-not. Fund their courses, loan them money to study.

But this would make sense only if the reservation bid is meant to give better opportunities for the so-called backward classes. Sadly, it isn't.

Ironically, it is meant to please a section of population most of which is illiterate. Better opportunities, my pimpled ass!

2. Fanaa, Aamir Khan and the Narmada Bachao Andolan: Aamir Khan has undone what Medha Patkar has been doing for the moment. The hunger strike actually impressed me and it did grab attention and more importantly, concern for the people affected.

All that was screwed up thanks to a naiive artist who wanted to carry the same message as in his last movie. Just for the record, Rang De Basanti sucked. It seriously did.

So, now Mr. Khan wants to be "DJ" off screen and shoot his mouth off about how the rehab's going on.

The thing that pisses me off about it is the fact that a people versus state fight has become a person versus a political party war of words. Nobody wants to talk about whether any work is going on in the affected areas. All they're interested in is who said what and what was said in retaliation.

And I'm happy for the people of Gujarat because they don't get to see Fanaa. The promos were enough for me. Kajol is fat and Aamir looks old enough to play her father.

That's probably the only good thing Modi's cronies have done so far for Gujarat.

3. India lose to the W.Indies in the ODI series: Tough shit, grow some balls, would you? And how many of us really care about Sachin Tendulkar's shoulder? I know for sure, I don't.

4. Stock Market Crash: Again, tough shit, grow some balls, would you?

5. The Da Vinci Code: The less said, the better.

6. The Christian Census: Okay, this pisses me off. I really don't care if Muslims are outnumbering Hindus or Christians are outnumbering whoever.

And what's the Pope's problem if India chooses to have anti-conversion laws? Are there mosques or temples in the Vatican?

Speaking of anti-conversion movements, Jharkand has passed a new law which says that anyone who converts to Islam must register themselves at the nearest police station failing which they face a jail term and/or a fine of fifty thousand rupees.

Another absurd new rule - you can change your name only once!

Oh, but nothing can beat the 27% reservation, can it?

-----

I just realised my grammar sucks.

-----

A riddle: Why did Ali Baba say "Ghul ja, sim sim!" ?

He was trying out a Mallu accent.

*runs*

Amen.

2006-05-22T22:51:00.000-07:00

There are two types of people.

Well, there are at least two types of people.

The world is weird, isn't it?

I think I've said enough.

Amen.

2006-05-16T16:31:00.000-07:00

Two things happened at work today. One, I think I lost a friend and two, I realised I am not half as good as others around me.

I was told that you really can't have friends at work. I thought otherwise. Well, now, I'm beginning to wonder...

I was also told I am not cut out for BPO work, data entry or anything to do with numbers. I thought otherwise. I'm wondering more now...

Oh screw it, I quit.

Amen.

Has this ever happened to you?

2006-05-07T14:38:00.000-07:00

You plan to meet someone. You look forward to meeting them. You meet them. And the only thought you have after that is to get the hell out of there.

Has this ever happened to you?

Or, is it just me?

What?

Things don't change....

2006-04-27T15:35:00.000-07:00

I tried to come up with a fresh post with, well, stuff that's in my head and all that.

I was going through some of my earlier posts in this blog and the second post fitted in perfectly with my current mood. And this was written about 16 months ago. Well, some things don't change, at all... Here goes.....

"Status update, I am alive and... well, I think.

The past few days have been so eventful. I just couldn't get myself to sit down and 'chronicle' them. It is funny how when things go well, you tend to forget many things. Seriously, it has been ages since I wrote anything that made any sense. I tried writing a few days ago, something like a write as you think kind of a thing and here's what unfolded....

-------------

It is so easy for someone to claim that he or she has figured everything out. Well, it is simply easy just to claim. The reality is that no one knows what the hell they are doing here – the very purpose of their meaningless lives, why they do the things they do, why they don’t do the things they don’t do and why they actually consider doing things. Take me, for example. My life has been a rollercoaster, mentally. A million things seen, a trillion visions in my head. That’s the best way to sum my life up. Oh and if you thought this didn’t make sense, don’t worry, it wasn’t meant to make any sense, it is just a train of thoughts that I am on right now… I don’t know where to start. It has been a while since I wrote anything, well, anything that made sense! People around you change, situations change, and when they do, you change. And for some weird reason, the very people around you don’t approve of it.

Why am I here? A lonely object overflowing with self-pity, a fatalist, a quitter… I wish I had the answers. Twenty years of insane wandering, twenty years of indifference, twenty years of stupidity… Is that all I got to speak for? I want to be a writer, but I loathe the idea of reading. I am conceited. I am but a bubble, a bubble waiting to burst.

Every bond I’ve made in this world seems to hurt me, in some way or the other. Is it a sign of things to come? Or is it just because I am feeling stressed out? Or is it simply because I refuse to change? Or have I changed too much? Or is it because the people around me have changed beyond comprehension? Is paranoia catching up on me, again?

-------------

I must say the daily bouts of depression must have something to do with it. Okay, why am I depressed? I wish I knew. It’s probably something to do with the fact that my life is heading nowhere and what's worse; I am doing nothing about it."

Amen.

Indian Idiots - II (People and Eating Outlets - Bad Combo)

2006-04-24T15:41:00.000-07:00

Sometimes people suck. Well, most of the times, they suck, but I was just being polite.

Now that I have stated a universal truth, let me begin my long overdue rant about people and their behaviour in restaurants. You may have:

a) Noticed this behaviour
b) Been guilty of this behaviour at some/most point/s of time.

First one: Have you noticed how everyone becomes conscious of their hair once they enter a fast food joint? Ninety percent of these sorry idiots have dandruff. And they place themselves right at the counter and start running their greasy palms through their hair.

"Idly with chutney, ma'am. Oh, and a little something from that gentleman with that black t-shirt. I'm sure it tastes better than the chutney."

No, it's just, well, garnishing, I guess.

How stupid are these fast food people, by the way? I've noticed one common thing (apart from bad, but nevertheless cheap, food) in all the "darshinis" I've been - mirrors. I mean, who the fuck cares what you look like when you're eating? I don't. And neither should you. You look ugly - with or without that food in your mouth.

Second, well, one: People who sneeze at restaurants. I'm tired of phlegm masala and phlegm fried rice and snot manchurian with extra phlegm. It's like some people have a reflex action to food or something - sneeze when you see food.

A little piece of advice - the next time you see something white floating in your soup, don't always assume it's butter.

Third: Somewhat similar to the previous one. People who blow their noses or clear their throats loudly at the "wash area". In most fast food joints, the "wash area" is nothing more than a wash-basin with a broken tap.

"Yes, saar. You can use the drinking water to wash your hands".

Coming back to the loud fucks. I think it's voyuerism.

"Hah, I got more stuff in my nose than he does."

"Hah, kid! It takes a man like me to make so much noise... through the nose!"

Fourth: Conversations.

You're at a fast food joint to eat. Period. You're not there to converse. The only conversation you should have at a fast food joint is when you are ordering food. Maybe a few pleasantaries exchanged with the guy who is serving you so that you get quicker service the next time, but that's it.

I don't want to listen to your opnions about the cricket team or the football team or any sport. I don't want to know what my pay hike is going to look like or if I'm getting any hike at all. All these matters can be addressed at an appropriate platform.

Oh, one more reason I don't want to listen to your opinions.

I DON'T GIVE A FUCK.

No, really.

And fourth: FLUSH WHEN YOU PEE YOU FUCKS! If the flush isn't working, go out, drink some clean water and pee more. That should, well, clean things up. No, wait.

Fifth: Have you noticed people ask for "warm water" at these fast food joints? That got me thinking....

What is warm water?

How hot is warm water?

If it is hot, why is it warm?

If it is warm, why isn't it hot?

It's summer. Why won't people ask for cold water? Buttermilk, maybe?

Hmm...

Oh and people do ask for "warm Pepsi" too. Weird.

Sixth: People who pay to waste food. Seriously, imagine paying twenty bucks for a full meal and wasting half of it. All you bastards with the silver spoon up your asses might say, "it's just twenty bucks."

To all those who say that - the middle finger.

Food is food. No price tag on it.

-------

Fair & Lovely ad has inspired me: Trust me, it has. In this ad, there's this Miss World contestant who says something about respecting your language if you want the world to respect you... something along those lines, I don't remember (no wonder it inspired me).

So, I'm going to say something in my mother tongue. You know, as a sign of respect...

Thevdiya pasangala!

Aaameeeeen.

Night Shifts.

2006-03-24T15:39:00.000-08:00

I have my breakfast when you're having your evening coffee.

I have lunch when you're having dinner.

I come back home when you're hitting the snooze button just to sleep a wee bit longer.

I sleep when it's time for your lunch.

Sometimes, I don't sleep at all.

And I love it.

Amen.

It's a known fact....

2006-03-11T23:32:00.000-08:00

That I'm a jerk.

Big deal.

Fuck off.

Amen.

2006-03-09T11:15:00.000-08:00

He was at the store, looking for some movie UMDs to “inaugurate” his brand new Playstation Portable. The collection was formidable. There were movies he watched and liked and there were movies he didn’t watch and still didn’t like.

But one cover stood out. He had to buy that movie. He walked towards it as memories took over.

---

XXX.

That was the movie we decided to watch. Well, it wasn’t what we decided. Mysore had a very limited array of movies for us to choose between. I think at that point of time, we had two Kannada movies and a Tamil movie, not to mention an old Hindi movie nobody liked in some theatre unheard of.

So, the four of us – W, K, A and yours truly bunked class and rushed to the theatre to buy tickets for the matinee show early, you know, just in case the place got filled. Well, apart from the old men who thought XXX was, well, a porno movie who also probably gave us dirty looks (two guys and two girls going together for a porno movie – very corny!) when we entered the movie hall, we had the whole place to ourselves.

The movie was awesome. Vin Diesel kicked ass. Specially the scene where he starts that landslide – AM-azing! I wanted to learn to ski and surf and skate and yeah, jump off falling cars.

Tattoos. Metal-Trance soundtrack. Bald heads. All served in one hot plate.

One of the reasons I liked this set of people was the fact that they were spontaneous. They never liked planning, in fact, the more they planned, the less they did. Even the movie plan was a spontaneous one. But the next spontaneous “decision” was, well, kind of close to ridiculous.

I know, we watched a kick-ass movie and stuff, but to follow the movie up with piercing your ears is not the kind of dessert I was hoping for.

I think it was K who wanted to pierce her ear (she already had an array of rings on her ear, I dread the day she gets into an electromagnetic field). So we went to Devraj Urs Road, looking for a place to, well bore a hole in K’s ear. When we found one, I noticed A getting really interested in the whole piercing affair. She even picked out the “stud” she wanted, if I remember correctly. And before I could turn around W was with K discussing the various intricacies of piercing. (All he wanted to know was which ear to pierce so as not to look gay. He’s bisexual, I learnt after a couple of years. More on that later).

So, there we were, four college kids, three of whom are ready to undergo voluntary puncture of their bodies. Hey, the ear IS a part of the body, okay!

As for me, I was too chicken to do anything like that. K and A lived with their respective aunts and both of them had their own problems with the aunts and so both of them could in theory do whatever the fuck they wanted to, except probably get hickies or whatever.

As for W, his parents were never around and his sister was too busy to even acknowledge his presence. He could really do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Me? Well, I lived with my parents and a pain in the ass brother who according to my father looked up to me. So, it was partly living to expectations and mostly the fear of getting my ass kicked that stopped me from taking the “drastic step”.

K volunteered to go first, having been the one with most experience and no, I am not exaggerating. You should look at her ears, they’re like five Olympics symbols in one ear. Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration. Then went A and finally W.

I don’t know how painful it actually was, but with A and W holding my hand while the piercing happened, I knew it was painful for me. Even the thought of it now makes my right hand go “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa”…. That’s how bad they squeezed my arm.

All in all it was a productive day. I got to watch a great movie with great friends and I could follow that up by making fun of their golden studs. It was a sight. They looked like branded sheep, all in different sizes – the sheep that is.

What happened in the following days, you ask? I don’t know about K and A, but W got his ear infected and the stud won’t come off. First we tried pulling it off. That wasn’t a very good idea because he couldn’t stand the pain. So, we decided to get some help from an old friend – weed. We made W smoke up – on top of Chamundi Hills – and after about seven joints, when he was comfortable and, more importantly, numb, we tried prying the thing off. Didn’t work. We gave up.

Finally, a couple of days later, W walked into college smiling and the ear looked lighter. What happened, we asked. He said, it just fell off while I was sleeping.

Yeah, it just “fell off”. Bastard stud.

----
As he paid the cashier, he couldn’t help but wonder what an amazing time college was. He also couldn’t help but notice things had changed. Two of the four had lost a parent, gotten displaced and one of them was in a drug rehab. As for him, he was in an alien land, trying to get his bearings right in a place with a cold climate and colder people.

As he entered the street, the wind blew right at his face. He closed his eyes and the tears in his eyes rolled down on his cheek.

Yeah, the wind does indeed irritate the eyes.

At least, that’s what he wanted to think.

Amen.

Back.

2006-03-08T00:59:00.000-08:00

Okay, I'm back.

And I'm almost out of chocolates.

Amen.

PS: Shutdown imminent.

Unity in Diversity

2006-02-28T09:02:00.000-08:00

Amen.

Blasphemy!

2006-02-04T23:37:00.000-08:00

Walmart refused to sell cigarettes to me because I didn't have photo ID.

Fuck Walmart.

Amen.

Conversations that should never happen.

2006-01-24T20:27:00.000-08:00

Nikhil: ah!
Nikhil: anyway....you know what?
Me: Er.. what?
Nikhil: this bush fucker is doing this Domestic Surviellance and all it seems
Me: Ah, so?
Nikhil: that means that they can tap anyone's fones, email, online convo and all other shit
Me: Ah, again.. so?
Nikhil: so, I am wondering whether I am one of them being surveyed.
Nikhil: see...basically, they are using Al-Qaeda as an alibi for their stupid interfering shitty actions
Me: You really think some fat ass techno geeks are going to be watching us describe our sad lives?
Nikhil: yeah. I hopes he reads what we are writing!! oh joy!!!
Nikhil: MWAHAHHA
Me: Heh.
Me: He might deny entry to the country the next time for possession of a sad life.
Me: Heh.
Me: What if they make a sad life illegal?
Me: Most of America would be in prison.
Nikhil: damn, don't you thnk this should go on one of our's blogs?
Nikhil: =))
Me: It just might.
Me: ;-)
Nikhil: hehe.
Me: No, but seriously, the way everything is becoming illegal, I won't be surprised if these lawmaker goons made such an absurd law.
Me: And I'm sure it'll start with a lawsuit.
Nikhil: i know. I would laugh a little harder than usual, but would not be surprised, nonetheless
Me: Like the Wabbster sues the drummer for being sad.
Nikhil: yeah. Wabbster V. Drummer
Me: Yeah, I can't WAIT to be on Larry King Live.
Me: :D
Nikhil: landmark historical law suit
Me: Heh, and what do I sue you for? Emotional distress.
Me: And maybe loose-motional.
Me: Arcane Crapper would be my first witness. ;-)
Nikhil: yeah me too man! we can like be friends there and then be bitter rivals in court, just to poke fun at this "administartion," or the lack thereof, maybe
Me: Hehe...
Nikhil: hmmm, you will have to think again. you will have to pay arcane crapper at least the plane ticket (or provide him with a row boat), and possible "witness fees"
Me: That's where we use technology my friend.
Me: Ever heard of video conferencing?
Nikhil: i know. but i heard paying for that shit is costlier than getting him here and back
Me: I can pay the fuckers once I win the lawsuit and extract a huge amount as damages. :D
Nikhil: hehe, which, by no remote means you have a chance of getting. the drummer is bummer broke.
Nikhil: sheesh, i could have said, "no remote chance"
Nikhil: dang it.
Me: More emotional distress.
Me: I can sue you more.
Me: Or.. whatever.
Me: I think we've gone a bit too far. Time for a change of topic.
Nikhil: yeah, and then we get to prolong the case more and more and then eventually die on larry king II live.
Nikhil: as friends.
Nikhil: ;;)
Me: Er... friends as in the show "Friends"?
Me: Okay, I'll stop.
Nikhil: no a bad idea either :-?
Me: Heh.
Nikhil: "Reunion of Friends. With a couple of unfriendly additions"
Nikhil: ah, nice.
Nikhil: TOTAL CROWD PULLER I SAY.
Me: Amen to that.

Dawn or Dusk?

2006-01-24T11:02:00.000-08:00

Well, it depends on the way you look at it.

Amen.

Bleh.

2006-01-23T08:56:00.000-08:00

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=bleh

Sometimes people have wayyyy too much free time.

Oh, some more pics are up... Click on the Flickr box thingy on the right. I ran out of upload limit, so the rest of the pics are at http://photos.yahoo.com/prads5000.

Enjoy!

Bleh!

Amen.

2006-01-14T12:51:00.000-08:00

The cold hard truth hit him at last.

He knew he knew it.

He just didn’t want to know it.

He was in love.

And he hated himself for it.

The point of no return was miles behind now.

Amen.

Pics.

2006-01-10T15:02:00.000-08:00

Okay, pics are up ---Click---

Amen.

New the Yorks.

2006-01-09T14:16:00.000-08:00

Okay, here we go. Reached New York on Saturday evening.

Just got the US pin converter shit for the laptop. So, here I am, blogging.

I thought I'd mail everyone. Then I thought, what the fuck.

Pictures and the rest all coming up very soon.

Oh, pee ess, Air India sucks ass.

A the mens.

Okay, so I have nasal hair.

2006-01-03T05:26:00.000-08:00

So what?

Of Gods and, well, a lot of (other) crap.

2006-01-02T07:10:00.000-08:00

Yesterday's bloggers' meet actually made me think - longer than usual. With Finch saying the navel (let's not get into why the navel came up (not 'came up' as in literally 'came' 'up'))... uh, lost the flow here. Okay, with Finch saying the navel signified 'original sin', the flow of thoughts and some, well, faith related ideas came up.

Religion is the path to God. Well, that's pretty much what I learnt from that discussion. And that made me think.

What is my 'path to God'?

Wills - Navy Cut?

I don't know. I don't even know if I believe in God.

Gayethri thinks I do, because I keep capitalising the first letter of the word "God". But then it is something I've been doing forever, I was taught to write it that way.

On the one hand, I would love to think there's some guy up there who makes your wishes come true provided you lead your life the way he supposed to have asked you to lead.

But that's exactly why I don't want to believe someone's up there. I don't think I would like to surrender myself to some unknown being just to guarantee myself a berth in heaven. Heaven, well, is another highly debatable topic. Let's skip that for now.

And I don't want to be a part of the reason which gave us the crusades and wars and riots that we see even today.

I mean, how many Muslims actually believe the clowns who blow up stuff and say they're doing Allah's work? I mean, what's the proof that Allah actually didn't tell them to blow stuff up and kill others? But do they believe them? No. Why? Faith in Allah. Faith in someone who they trust not to kill fellow humans.

I am not proud of being a Hindu. Hell, I wouldn't be proud if I were a Muslim or a Christian or whatever. Almost every religion has been associated with some sort of war, which makes me wonder if the 'path to God' is in fact all that sacred. Again, I say sacred as in clean and pure, but then there are way too many versions of that word as well.

So, what is my path to God?

Wills - Navy Cut.

It is pure (well, sometimes you get fake ones, but that's alright; it happens with most religions). It's not cool (like most religions). You have to smoke it in a specified manner (you have the filter WHICH YOU DON'T LIGHT!!!). And, I die faster (that is, if you believe the anti-smoking ads on tv). Oh and a lot of people hate my smoking, which like being a Muslim in a Hindu locality and vice-versa.

So, yeah, I'm a 'Willsian'.

And I have a choir number called "Smoking my Religion". I wonder if REM would want to do a cover.... Hm...

In other news, New Year eve was pretty okay, in spite of there being no alcohol. Actually, that's exactly what made it okay. Forum does attract a lot of losers, yours truly included.

It was amazing though. I was there till 12:30 AM and the place was quiet till midnight. We (as in my roomies and me) were actually getting bored, but once it struck 12, the place went nuts. Firecrackers, drunk people hugging other drunk people, loud shouts of "wooooooo" and well, more firecrackers. 'twas fun.

Alrighty then, in other other news, I'll be leaving for New York on Friday. Wish me luck.

And Nikhil, where the fuck are you?

Amen.

PS: Yes, Sita, I am quiet. Well, most of the time. :-)

To everyone and everyone else.

2006-01-01T01:27:00.000-08:00

Appy Noo Err!

Mean... No, wait, Amen.

Paradox?

2005-12-30T04:47:00.000-08:00

When the bus left,
the conductor said,
"RIGHT!"

Muehehehehe....

Amen.

The Younger Ananth is a Screwball as well.

2005-12-29T07:16:00.000-08:00

Me: What's new?

My Bro: 27 messages.

Me: WTF!?!?!?!

Amen.

PS: Look what you've done, mom...dad!

Just a thought

2005-12-26T07:39:00.000-08:00

It wasn't just one thought that governed his day. It was more like a cabinet of thoughts, revolving off and around his prime thought. He wondered why there was no cohesion among his thoughts. He wondered why they weren't in sync with the chief, primary, prime thought. His thoughts were diverse, sometimes in conflict with one another, and yet, his brain performed smoothly. Suicidal and yet harmonious, corrupt and yet honest, those where his thoughts. And the more he thought, the more confused he got. He had to stop thinking, but how? He couldn't control his thoughts. Thought control was something he never learnt at school or even at home. He was told to think certain things, but he would end up thinking something else. He hated being told what to think, but his thoughts sometimes depended on what others thought as well. Like if someone thought well of him, he'd respond with a similar thought about that person. That again depended on a lot of other materialistic things, which sometimes involved a more detailed thought process. Now there was no consensus everytime amongst his thoughts. As mentioned earlier, his thoughts would come in direct confrontation with one another, and that would prove disastrous at times because he'd end up doing nothing about the proposed action. Thus, inaction would prevail and he'd slip into a sort of a depression when negative thoughts would prevail for a short time before a revolution in his mind would occur and wipe the negative forces for the time being. This was a constant process and his mind kept evolving, nay, growing with wisdom.

But like all minds, his mind would stop functioning after a while and he'd just fade away, like the rest of them. His thoughts and actions might have resulted in great things, but the chances were very dim. Other more sophisticated minds that had more sophisticated thoughts would probably outdo him, he never knew.

But in the end, he thought it was just so much fun to think of things like these.

Amen.

The madness

2005-12-26T05:10:00.000-08:00

Okay, it's official. I'm done with alcohol.

No wait, I didn't say that!!!!

Too late. No booze for me.

Except for rum laced 'Feast'. *looks at Shadows*

Amen.

Stupid Questions : Part One.

2005-12-26T04:55:00.000-08:00

"I'm going home."

"Why?"

*sucker punch*

One Year.

2005-12-25T20:39:00.000-08:00

President Abdul Kalam's "guidance" marked today's issue of The Times of India. And today being 26th December (one year after the Tsunami), it made his work seem a bit too easy, one would have thought.

Here's an excerpt from the front page of the TOI.

‘‘You see, the media has covered the tsunami quite exhaustively. But it has focused on the devastation, on death and destruction. I have followed the aftermath of the tsunami very closely. I have seen how people are rebuilding their lives. I am from Tamil Nadu and I am familiar with these people. One thing that has struck me is the response of people a few kilometres away from the shore, who were not affected by the monster wave. Do you know what was their first reaction? They rushed to the affected areas with food, clothes and medicines. This is in sharp contrast to what happened recently when riots broke out (in another part of the world) in the wake of a natural calamity. Perhaps not everything is right with India, but it has some positive civilisational values. I think this is one of them — our ability to come to the help of those afflicted.’’

Well, we aren't that bad a people, are we?

To the people who donated in whatever way they could, to help the tsunami victims rebuild their lives, to the people who are still working with the victims - thank you.

And to the people who've stayed away, made sarcastic comments about losses and who've generally been of no help - thank you.

Amen.

A time to celebrate.

2005-12-22T07:55:00.000-08:00

It's Christmas time.

The blog will be a year old on Christmas.

I completed six months at my first 'paid' job day before yesterday.

I will be in New York in a fortnight.

My bike's "rideable" now.

Right now, my head's a mess. I just want to curl up and die.

Amen.

Weird...

2005-12-16T03:35:00.000-08:00

On my way to Chennai and I don't know which town the bus is passing through. I see a big building with a board that says, "E.R.R. Hospital".

Weird.

How would you know if an operation went wrong over there?

ERR....

Amen.

2005-12-14T07:46:00.000-08:00

Arrack. Yum.

2005-12-12T04:29:00.000-08:00

If the Japanese are Japs, what are Germans?

What would German Sheperds be called in Germany?

----

In other news, HAPPY BUDDEY SHADOWS!

----

Amen.

2005-12-08T18:13:00.000-08:00

"Why is it called 'mothertoungue'?"

"Because the father hardly gets to speak?"

"True."

"Amen."

Stupid BPO joke.

2005-11-29T09:29:00.000-08:00

"Dude, I don't think I'll be up for the parallel run."

"Why's that?"

"I get tired very soon."

----

It's a stupid joke not just because I made it up, but also because none of my colleagues laughed.

----

Ponder over this: What if the west outsourced cockroaches?

I know, I'll stop.

Amen.

Indian Idiots - I (patriotism guaranteed, conditions apply)

2005-11-25T07:47:00.003-08:00

It’s probably high time I kept my thoughts to myself. It’s not because I’m afraid I might ‘hurt’ someone or worse, ‘emotionally scar’ them. It’s not even because I want to be ‘liked’ or worse, be ‘popular’.

But it is definitely irritating when someone with a self righteous attitude comes up to me and tells me they don’t ‘approve’ of my tastes – the music I listen to, the way I (don’t) comb my hair, the way I talk, the way I walk, the underwear I (sometimes) wear, the list is long and more ridiculous.

Let me make a list of “little things” I don’t like about people.

1. The ring tones in their cell-phones. Specially tones from the following movies.

a) Anniyan: If you thought the music sucked, wait till you hear the tones. No wait, you already have it in your phone. Asswipe!

b) Aashiq Banaya Aapne: Fuck the movie. Fuck the song. Fuck the tone. A nasal title song. An anal tone. Fuck you for downloading that.

c) Zeher: I’m tired of “Woh Lamhe”. Agreed, I liked that song for a while, but a while is all I can like it for. It was and still is everywhere. I hate Kunal Ganjawala for agreeing to sing that song. Fuck him. And yeah, fuck you.

d) Any other “Latest Bollywood Hit”: I know there’s a lot of peer pressure in your smaller-than-a-dot circle of friends, but for fuck’s sake, don’t waste your money on meaningless tones that most of the time are actually out of tune.

2. The “new and hep” Caller Tune culture. What I don’t understand about this is, why would someone pay money to download a tune and then pay monthly charges for the tune just so that someone else can listen to it? What kind of satisfaction do they derive from that? If they really want to please others, they can very well donate that money to a “charity organization” or just buy three notebooks for thirty bucks and give it to a “deserving student”.
Oh well, I can dream, can’t I?

It also irritates me to listen to the damn thing. Again, it’s some shitty Anniyan, Aashiq Banaya Aapne, Zeher and other miscellaneous shit. People are just wasting money on something I don’t even like.

3. Politician-Bashing-Couch-Potato Syndrome. “I don’t like something about my country. What do I do? I diss politicians. I form opinions entirely based on their performance, or should I say the lack of it? I forget the fact that I did not vote. I also forgot when the fucking voting was held. Why do they have voting on holidays?

“And yet, since I pay taxes – which by the way I’m not too happy about – I automatically have a right to point my finger at the politician. I want what I want. I don’t like the traffic jams here, but I’ll not stop myself from cutting lanes at the same time. I will definitely overtake a vehicle from the wrong side if the situation demands it and I will talk on the cell phone – even try to catch up on my unread sms – while I’m riding. Who wants to stop? The traffic’s bad, remember? And you know why? It’s the politicians, I tell you.

“They’re the real assholes. What are you showing that finger for…. Come back here, I want to tell you more. I think…

Fuck what you think. Asshole.

4. Religious “Atheists”. I hate them. They’re the most hypocritical pieces of shit I’ve ever come across.

No, I am not talking about the Shiv Sena who want Valentine’s Day, erhm, well, banned. Oh, by the way, I have a theory on why they want V-Day banned.

Valentine’s Day is a day to celebrate “love” right? So, it’s a “Love Day”. Say “love day” repeatedly and if your Hindi’s not bad, yo\u’ll know why the Sena’s pissed off.

Coming back to atheists, well, they just suck. They religiously follow their idea of no-religion. Well, that’s kind of true, right? They even have Atheist Conventions and shit! That’s just taking things one step too far.

5. Can’t think of a name here. This is about the gullible pieces of shit that almost everyone seems to have become. What the fuck happened to the slow research one used to do before they actually bought a particular (expensive) product. It looks like people would even eat shit if it is marketed well. Yeah, you know, have a lucky “dip” contest, give them some free gifts, and promise a tour to Switzerland or Australia or even Nigeria for that matter.

I repeat – People would even eat shit if it is marketed well.

TVS Victor sales drastically increased after Sachin Tendulkar was signed on as the ambassador.

Too bad, many fuckers don’t know he can’t ride a freaking bike.

Thus, I repeat, again: People would even eat shit if it is marketed well.

Or have Amitabh Bachchan market the shit. He can draw from his “experience” in the film industry and tell the gullible idiots at home how eating shit improved his intelligence and made him rich man. People will buy that.

Man, I should get into marketing! I’m so full of shit, no, ideas!

6. The “Can-I-Have-A-Light” Syndrome. Smokers, if you don’t have a cigarette lighting device, buy one. It doesn’t cost much. The cheapest matchbox costs around 40 paise and a wax thingy costs ten paise more.

It does not make sense with you in your costly looking clothes walking around with a cigarette in your mouth asking me “cen I hev ae lih pfees?” Some people don’t even ask me that these days.

They just stand next to me and give me some sign-language shit.

To the people who ask me, no, I will not part with my matchbox.

To the people who give me sign language, the finger.

I just don’t get it. Someone who spends twenty five bucks on a pack of Wills can shell 50p more for a matchbox? Why, you’re suddenly aware of the money you’re spending on “sundries” and you want to cut down on that? If you want to cut down on spending on sundries, stop buying stuff for yourself, you self-centered son of a bitch.

---

A nine hour shift means I have just about forty-odd minutes to write whatever the hell I want to. I mean, the rest of the time, I’m reading forwards, smoking, eating, playing the fool and well, reading more forwards. I know, I work so hard.

The list is incomplete. Expect more. And be scared. Very, very scared.

Amen.

A request.

2005-11-24T05:08:00.000-08:00

If you feel my tastes don't quite live up to yours, please shut the fuck up and mind your fucking business.

I do not comment on your hypocrisy, your preaching for scientific thought and yet clinging to faith - on an invisible fucker sitting up in the sky and the thought that he yields all the fucking power. You're wrong, motherfuckers.

Well, now you may say I have just contradicted myself by actually commenting on your hypocrisy.

Then again, fuckers, I've merely stated a fact.

But then, I don't really think you'll understand what I'm saying because of the dimwits that you are. Again, this is not a comment or an opinion. It's just what you all are.

And don't bother commenting unless you have an opinion.

Thank you, fuckers.

Amen.

People should just die... no, they should just vanish into thin air... maybe thick air... no, wait...

2005-11-21T07:28:00.000-08:00

1. People who hum off-tune.
2. People who wear jewelry even to go to the loo.
3. People who derive pleasure from the vibrate mode in their cell-phones.
4. People who swing their arms while they walk.
5. People who take up laughter therapy. And worse, people who prescribe it.
6. People who run their hands through their hair at a fast food joint.
7. People who honk at signals. Even when it's red.
8. People who honk at signals. When it's on yellow.
9. People who honk everywhere else.
10. People who think I'm being unfair now.

----

On a more joyous note, I'm an now an uncle.

----

Now, that's a paradox.

Amen.

Me.

2005-11-16T07:11:00.000-08:00

The animal, the human, the son, the brother, the friend
- just to name a few.

Illiterate, uneducated and uncouth.

Overbearing, possessive and shy.

Selfish, cynical and sarcastic.

Passive, aggressive and paradoxical.

Critic, analyst and judge.

Birth, life and death.

Rants, cribs and musings.

Quiet, loud and noisy.

Wins and Losses.
A Victor and A Loser.

Perseverence and Fatalism
FICTION AND FACT

Amen.

Du Arschloch

2005-11-12T01:24:00.000-08:00

Go figure.

Amen.

Credits - Google.

Du Arschloch, ja Sie

Random Rant...

2005-11-11T04:19:00.001-08:00

I sometimes wonder why I try to express myself, why I try to write, why I try to indulge in what most people call “whining”. Some call me funny, some call me sarcastic and some say I should not write for the benefit of humankind. I’ve tried long and hard to describe myself as a writer. I’ve hit a dead end every time I did that.

When it is so easy for me to pass a judgment about someone or describe someone, why do I falter when I want to do the same to me?

But I don’t think anybody can ‘describe’ themselves honestly and accurately.

I have noticed that in so many people. They either have too high an opinion of themselves or their self esteem is lower than ‘rock bottom’. And neither of them is accurate.

I wish I knew why this happens. Is it the way they see themselves of is it the way they perceive others to see them?

I’m probably the first person to write about something as small as this but it is fun when you ponder over it. It makes you, well, think.

I talk to myself – a lot. I have debates, arguments and verbal fist-fights with myself. I call myself a bastard and then say, “Yeah, you too!”

The real me? I wish I knew. Nobody knows what emotions I’m capable of, not even me. And that’s probably the most fascinating thing for me about me. I learn new things everyday. I don’t remember them all, but yes, it is stored somewhere in my brain and recollection does occur someday. And when that happens, I won’t even know how I learnt it.

It’s like learning how to walk or talk when we were kids. I don’t remember when or how I learnt to walk, but I know I learnt it somehow.

Simple things like these amuse me and are a particular interest to me. I want to notice the smallest of things, sometimes really stupid things, and wonder why we do that.

George Carlin does that and he does that really well. He is my God for now. He has taught me to open my senses and observe even the obscurest of things around me. Nature, according to him, is the best teacher. I’m not there yet, but I am waiting for the day when I learn the true meaning behind that though.

Until then, I’ll stick to being me, the one-eyed king in the land of the blind!

Amen.

Weird links.

2005-11-08T03:30:00.000-08:00

http://www.nothing.com

http://idontknow.com

Heh.

2005-11-06T22:48:00.000-08:00

It's smoke time and in no time, I'm in the 'Smoke Zone'- An open space dedicated to smokers, an open space, designated to give pleasure who crave for the smell and taste of nicotine, an open space with tables, chairs and huge ashtrays, an open space where you'd unwind and relax, loosen your tie and sms your loved ones, an open space not immune to the harsh sunlight but for the tall coconut trees, not immune from the rain but for the umbrellas you carry, an open space where everyone passes through, an open space where you are one with you.

Heck, it’s just an open space! Well, what is an open space anyway?

Amen.

2005-10-31T21:34:00.000-08:00

It is amazing how things just go "poof".

---

I hate blocks. Oh well... Hot news, if you want to call it that. I'm not quitting the blog-world in a hurry. In fact, I have bigger (and hopefuly better) things in mind.

1. A three or four part semi-fiction series on shit I have been thinking about.

2. A new look to the page and a new URL maybe. I might buy some hosting.

3. A happier new year.

Of course, with the time I have on hand, the first two "points in the to-do" list will happen at a very slow pace. The third one, well, I'll just let the rum do the talking on 1st Jan. Heh.

Oh and Hippi Dipivli.

Amen.

2005-10-30T00:39:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd write a funny post. I thought I'll make fun of an obnoxious quality. I thought I'd just make fun.

I stopped. I looked at myself in the mirror.

I can barely type with the laughing in my head.

Amen.

A Good Read

2005-10-29T01:07:00.000-07:00

One Night @ The Call Center by Chetan Bhagat.

It's not a great book, but yeah, definitely something there.

Oh and Chennai's still hot. Apparently, the rain hasn't cooled the place down.... Oh well..

Amen.

Funny, yet very disturbing.

2005-10-25T06:49:00.000-07:00

A report from the Deccan Herald. Bangalore's not Mumbai, folks. This rain is here to take us down.

LINK HERE!!!

Amen.

PS: My HTML skills suck. :-

The Surprise.

2005-10-24T08:07:00.000-07:00

These were words he thought he would never need to say.

The memory of the twenty years he spent with her was the only time he could remember. Of course, they’d have their share of problems. He wouldn’t understand her and she wouldn’t understand him. He would say mean things to her and she would respond with equal cynicism. She prayed for him and he secretly would pray for her. He would wait for her at her office while she kept apologizing on their way back. She would do nice things for him; he enjoyed the bed coffee the most. They would fight and in the end both of them would end up crying. When she annoyed him, he’d walk away. When he annoyed her, she’d sit down and try to ignore him. He hated shopping with her and she hated going alone. They’d talk about future, and she’d talk only about his. What he should do, what he shouldn’t and sometimes even bet on what he would do, that’s all she talked about. When her turn came, she’d just smile and say “never mind”.

He was now sitting in a bus, he was on his way back. Three months alone and he was bugged. He couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t want to be away from her longer. He longed to see that face, he longed to see that smile, he longed for… COFFEE!

He thought he’d call her up and tell her he was coming. But that would ruin the surprise. He slept silently, forgetting the guy sitting next to him smelt like dog shit.

The doorbell rang. Once. Twice. She opened the door and gasped. She couldn’t believe it. He was back. Tears started flowing and it was not her alone that was crying. They hugged each other tight and he whispered, “I missed you so much, amma.”

Amen.

We'll be back.

2005-10-16T01:51:00.000-07:00

All of us. We'll be back after a short break.

Don't you dare touch that remote.

Amen.

All about my God.

2005-10-10T04:01:00.000-07:00

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Carlin

Enzaai.

Amen.

2005-10-06T07:29:00.000-07:00

I can hear them talking behind my back, I can hear their guffaws. The shopkeeper just pointed at me with a contemptuous smile, sharing a joke with his friend. I can hear someone say my name and laugh as if the laugh were a part of my name. I can talk to someone one moment and end up thinking about what he or she is thinking about me at that point of time. I can hear them say "loser" when they say "Pradeep". I can hear them say "asshole" when they say "buddy", I can hear them say "faggot" when they say "team player".

Paranoia welcomes me with open arms.

Amen.

Friggin' Ass-Clowns.

2005-10-04T06:23:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I'm amazed at shit that happens to people. Read this from "The Electric Chair" and you'll be amazed too...

http://theelectricchair.blogspot.com/2005/10/i-suddenly-dont-like-bangalore-so-much.html

Bleh. Sucks.

Amen.

"Woops", I forgot.

2005-10-03T07:43:00.000-07:00

I signed up for Yahoo 360. http://blog.360.yahoo.com/prads5000

I had to wait for an "invite". Not worth it. At all. No, seriously.

Amen.