This is a sensitive blog, and I had to dig hard and deep to find out a part of me that's as tender as a cooked leg piece of Butter Chicken. Like I said, it's a sensitive blog and most people are just eons away from feeling the raw pull of the gravitational field of my cranky yet soft predisposition. Frankly speaking, I don't even know what I just wrote meant so forgive me and God will forgive you for reading this blog.
Paradoxes exist in life as we all know and no offence to all the voracious readers and intellectual folksy out there because your cerebral capabilities might be more enceinte than the rest of us but the rest are more emotionally capable of handling life's bitter truths than you all are. Well, I don't belong to either of the groups so I'm just a keen observer watching people better equipped and adept and handling life passing me by...;) I don't enjoy it but that's what I'm good at and I plan to turn this handicap into an asset in the future. I don't exactly know how but the moment I figure it out, I'm going to patent it and sell it at a loss to all the ill-equipped people of this world since the intelligent and the emotional will have no need of it. Most probably they will all be frustrated engineers from undisclosed colleges and walks of life.
You know what I have noticed with my limited intelligence and negative IQ test results in hand? Vijay Mallya and ITC live off us man. I mean not ITC optimally but the "Gold Flakes" division is freaking living off us engineers man. So the ITC employees live life "king-size" and Vijay Mallya lives life "pint-size". That's a lot selling sour grapes for a living man. The jackal from the fable of "Jackal and grapes" won't be pleased 'coz he got there first. But just 'coz Vijay Mallya had the resources he beat him to being a billionaire. And the grapes won't be pleased too u know and to this day they are angry coz Mallya uses them without any returns. You know what hangovers are? They are the wrath of grapes essentially at some primitive level...;)
I mean yes, people used to anticipate happiness earlier in life but looking at the skies, expecting the Gods to descend to extend felicity to them. Then, some Homo Sapien(by the way, I do puzzle now and then why we call ourselves that. I mean, not all of us are that you know..;) realized that you can get a better degree of relatively more costly happiness via a bottle of inebriant at the local bar. From here began a condescending journey for the content man who thought the world should share his happiness, and he went shouting in the streets that "thodi si jo peeli hain, chori toh nahin ki hain..zoozoooooyodelliiiyodellleeeyoooo...".The world would patronize the poor helpless man slandering him till the man would pass out of pure happiness, and since the saying goes-"Happiness is short-lived", the man would unfortunately remember zilch of his previous night's happiness and the world would accuse him in the morning 'coz they were all hoarders and had nothing better to do than malign the man with venom and bad names. Cruel cruel world.
I'm not wrong. If you think I'm wrong you are the unhappy one...zooozzooooyodelliyodellliyooooo!!!
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
HOLMES AND WATSON ARE BACCCKK!!...
Yea every1..the supersleuth at 221B Baker Street immortalized by his crooked nose and wry demeanour is back with his faithful ally Dr. Watson in Guy Ritchie's translation to the cinematic medium..and boy do they kick ass!!
Now, I'm kinda partial to Sherlock Holmes. Partly 'coz his investigative c
apabilities rival only that of Inspector Clouseau's which I'm sure is no comparison at all. What Sir Arthur Conan Doyle so vividly brought to our imagination was that of a man with an intellect so keen that it rebels at stagnation, at the indignation of not being put to use. The frequent drug abuse by Holmes when not confronted with an active brain stimulus can only deeply impress upon the desperation of the sleuth for crime. As Inspector Lestrade admirably puts it in a story when Holmes and Watson cleanly break into a house by picking the lock:-"I fear to think about the possibility of you on the other side of law." and all Holmes does is smile, his wry dry sardonic smile. Such was the connoisseur of crime.
Now, you get the drift that I do like Sherlock Holmes a lot and the expectations will always be kinda loaded if anyone even dares to recreate or attempts to captures Holmes's aura onscreen. However, I decided to go watch the movie without any expectations. I wanted to be pleasantly surprised and yes I did come back with 180 bucks well-spent. Now let me come to the movie. Guy Ritchie is the genre where rock 'n' roll movies are made, movies with pumping adrenalin and geysers of blood spraying out of limbs. Thankfully, this movie of his is layered and restrained, an almost monumental task when thinking about Guy Ritchie's kinda movies.
Robert Downey Jr. as Sherlock Holmes excels, displaying a class of surprisingly equivocal exhibition of acting, a top-notch credibility last seen from him in "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang". His interpretation of Sherlock Holmes's antics is vivid, and he displays a rare emotional depth in his scenes with Watson's impending departure from 221B Baker Street to get married to Mary Watson.
Dr. Watson, played by Jude Law is accentually and figuratively British, and Law displays a fine skill of holding back in terms of lambasting Holmes's never ending cycle of crazy experimen
ts. His eyes show a maturity which convey Holmes's and his bond which he perennially breaks and forges, much to the displeasure of his future wife, who incidentally hates Holmes's guts.
A high preference of script is given to the banter between Sherlock Holmes and Watson and the two show a remarkably good chemistry which is a highlight of the movie. Rachel McAdams plays a female vixen, who is commissioned to obtain information from Sherlock Holmes by using him, but falls for him instad. Her deft use of mouth, hands, feet and disposable knives is a tremendous achievment in Victorian era England. The screenplay uses ample special effects to depict 18th century England and succeeds.
The script revolves around Lord Blackwell, played here by Mark Strong who pitches in a decent performance as the shrewd manipulator who practices black magic in a scourging attempt to gain control over the city by rigging the reigning Lords by fear. He partially has success before Holmes thwarts his attempts to reign over the city in a culmination of fist-pumping, throat-ripping sequences that has top-end special effects of a fight sequence on top of the London Bridge under construction in 1880. The ending leaves enough space for the grand entry of Professor Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes's arch nemesis in the forthcoming sequel which promises to pitt Holmes against his adversary in a raging bullfight.
My review is a 3.5/5 for this movie. Go check it out coz the movie's worth it.
P.S.- Don't go looking for Oscar-worthy performances in this movie and you'll do just fine. Remember, for a Guy Ritchie movie, this is a good watch for he has managed to tone it down by quite a few degrees. Go enjoy this enjoyable caper and watch out for the Holmes-Watson bonding.
Now, I'm kinda partial to Sherlock Holmes. Partly 'coz his investigative c
apabilities rival only that of Inspector Clouseau's which I'm sure is no comparison at all. What Sir Arthur Conan Doyle so vividly brought to our imagination was that of a man with an intellect so keen that it rebels at stagnation, at the indignation of not being put to use. The frequent drug abuse by Holmes when not confronted with an active brain stimulus can only deeply impress upon the desperation of the sleuth for crime. As Inspector Lestrade admirably puts it in a story when Holmes and Watson cleanly break into a house by picking the lock:-"I fear to think about the possibility of you on the other side of law." and all Holmes does is smile, his wry dry sardonic smile. Such was the connoisseur of crime.Now, you get the drift that I do like Sherlock Holmes a lot and the expectations will always be kinda loaded if anyone even dares to recreate or attempts to captures Holmes's aura onscreen. However, I decided to go watch the movie without any expectations. I wanted to be pleasantly surprised and yes I did come back with 180 bucks well-spent. Now let me come to the movie. Guy Ritchie is the genre where rock 'n' roll movies are made, movies with pumping adrenalin and geysers of blood spraying out of limbs. Thankfully, this movie of his is layered and restrained, an almost monumental task when thinking about Guy Ritchie's kinda movies.
Robert Downey Jr. as Sherlock Holmes excels, displaying a class of surprisingly equivocal exhibition of acting, a top-notch credibility last seen from him in "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang". His interpretation of Sherlock Holmes's antics is vivid, and he displays a rare emotional depth in his scenes with Watson's impending departure from 221B Baker Street to get married to Mary Watson.
Dr. Watson, played by Jude Law is accentually and figuratively British, and Law displays a fine skill of holding back in terms of lambasting Holmes's never ending cycle of crazy experimen
ts. His eyes show a maturity which convey Holmes's and his bond which he perennially breaks and forges, much to the displeasure of his future wife, who incidentally hates Holmes's guts.A high preference of script is given to the banter between Sherlock Holmes and Watson and the two show a remarkably good chemistry which is a highlight of the movie. Rachel McAdams plays a female vixen, who is commissioned to obtain information from Sherlock Holmes by using him, but falls for him instad. Her deft use of mouth, hands, feet and disposable knives is a tremendous achievment in Victorian era England. The screenplay uses ample special effects to depict 18th century England and succeeds.
The script revolves around Lord Blackwell, played here by Mark Strong who pitches in a decent performance as the shrewd manipulator who practices black magic in a scourging attempt to gain control over the city by rigging the reigning Lords by fear. He partially has success before Holmes thwarts his attempts to reign over the city in a culmination of fist-pumping, throat-ripping sequences that has top-end special effects of a fight sequence on top of the London Bridge under construction in 1880. The ending leaves enough space for the grand entry of Professor Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes's arch nemesis in the forthcoming sequel which promises to pitt Holmes against his adversary in a raging bullfight.
My review is a 3.5/5 for this movie. Go check it out coz the movie's worth it.
P.S.- Don't go looking for Oscar-worthy performances in this movie and you'll do just fine. Remember, for a Guy Ritchie movie, this is a good watch for he has managed to tone it down by quite a few degrees. Go enjoy this enjoyable caper and watch out for the Holmes-Watson bonding.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
The Marriage and the symphony.
Regardless of what I've been through in my public and personal life with the galfolk of this world, I stand undone today. A bizarre mix of heady grass and whiskey aside, I haven't had a sincere and pragmatic laugh in quite a while.
Now fellas, I'm stuck, wrong word, I'm over at a wedding in Calcutta and I am surrounded by girls of all sizes with a common desire- to outdo the bride's dressing herself at the D-Day. The only reason I find it funny is 'coz I have observed their histrionics and I was with coupla guys my age. Oh, n yea we were passing a cigarette amongst ourselves while discussing this phenomenon. However, I will recount my personal observations to the fore. Kindly comment on this blog coz this is a genuinely remarkable phenomenon without any hindrance of race, creed, caste, or colour. And it tickles men of all age to the same degree.
So, the marriage is tomorrow i.e on the 21st of January 2010 at some godforsaken time. Another male lamb will be sacrificed in the holy altar of life and bound to stare at the wall and talk aimlessly in the coming years. However, the mistake has already been committed so let's not dwell on that but go to why the female population loves marriages more than their counterparts.
As I observed, the discussion on wearing clothes started 3 days back in full swing. 2 days back they concluded that they will be wearing clothes. Now came the toughest part, the most momentous task of all, the task which would pale Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay's efforts to scale Everest. "WHAT DO WE WEAR?"- they cry in unison. The cry reverberates throughout the room and we guys shrink back into the darkest place in large room. They might charge at us in their anger for having only 270 dresses to choose from. That's life girls, really unjust. I am only a human being but I can hardly try to delve into this disturbing pattern of unified grief amongst the females for having only just enough dresses to dress up Vatican's inhabitants.
However, they start off with renewed vigour, ticking off dresses as unsuitable for (amongst many reasons)
1.)being too old at 3 months
2.)being a shade too black
3.)can't bring out the colour off my eyes
4.)doesn't match the colour of my new hair shade and mascara which go along fantastically
I'm jaded so I leave. It freaks me out that people have to match eye colours with dresses, bangles, eye shade, lip gloss and footwear. Oh yea, the footwear is a different story altogether. I'm sure I heard a girl complain, crushed, that her 2 weeks old stiletto she bought for the wedding was now unfit 'coz she had seen the same on some other girl. I tried to ask her the logic which connected these two seperate incidents. She glanced at me and giggled away and finally said something which I heard was-"It's wedinbudhuso ehehehe samshoe heeheheh can'tondifrntpeiple hehahaheh..."
I came, I saw, I scampered.
P.S.- Tomorrow's the wedding. Pray for the groom. I did.
P.S.S.- I heard a voice laugh from above. Guess it was Shiva. He was high on Bhang too and was doing tandava . Apparently he thought my request was funny and laughed. I apologise for praying for the groom. Sorry, Shiva.
Now fellas, I'm stuck, wrong word, I'm over at a wedding in Calcutta and I am surrounded by girls of all sizes with a common desire- to outdo the bride's dressing herself at the D-Day. The only reason I find it funny is 'coz I have observed their histrionics and I was with coupla guys my age. Oh, n yea we were passing a cigarette amongst ourselves while discussing this phenomenon. However, I will recount my personal observations to the fore. Kindly comment on this blog coz this is a genuinely remarkable phenomenon without any hindrance of race, creed, caste, or colour. And it tickles men of all age to the same degree.
So, the marriage is tomorrow i.e on the 21st of January 2010 at some godforsaken time. Another male lamb will be sacrificed in the holy altar of life and bound to stare at the wall and talk aimlessly in the coming years. However, the mistake has already been committed so let's not dwell on that but go to why the female population loves marriages more than their counterparts.
As I observed, the discussion on wearing clothes started 3 days back in full swing. 2 days back they concluded that they will be wearing clothes. Now came the toughest part, the most momentous task of all, the task which would pale Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay's efforts to scale Everest. "WHAT DO WE WEAR?"- they cry in unison. The cry reverberates throughout the room and we guys shrink back into the darkest place in large room. They might charge at us in their anger for having only 270 dresses to choose from. That's life girls, really unjust. I am only a human being but I can hardly try to delve into this disturbing pattern of unified grief amongst the females for having only just enough dresses to dress up Vatican's inhabitants.
However, they start off with renewed vigour, ticking off dresses as unsuitable for (amongst many reasons)
1.)being too old at 3 months
2.)being a shade too black
3.)can't bring out the colour off my eyes
4.)doesn't match the colour of my new hair shade and mascara which go along fantastically
I'm jaded so I leave. It freaks me out that people have to match eye colours with dresses, bangles, eye shade, lip gloss and footwear. Oh yea, the footwear is a different story altogether. I'm sure I heard a girl complain, crushed, that her 2 weeks old stiletto she bought for the wedding was now unfit 'coz she had seen the same on some other girl. I tried to ask her the logic which connected these two seperate incidents. She glanced at me and giggled away and finally said something which I heard was-"It's wedinbudhuso ehehehe samshoe heeheheh can'tondifrntpeiple hehahaheh..."
I came, I saw, I scampered.
P.S.- Tomorrow's the wedding. Pray for the groom. I did.
P.S.S.- I heard a voice laugh from above. Guess it was Shiva. He was high on Bhang too and was doing tandava . Apparently he thought my request was funny and laughed. I apologise for praying for the groom. Sorry, Shiva.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Sitcoms of life-2
This is a sequel to the first one which came out waay back. Here's d link- http://arkofconwheals.blogspot.com/2008/12/sitcoms-of-lyf-1.html. Go check it out if u have nothing better to do...;) N this time around, this screwed up blogger will be commenting on the crowds, Diwali and trains. And to save time, we shall put all of them into one nightmarish yet illuminating(in a self-deprecating way) incident that I had recently.
Half an hour into my Genetics lecture on this 14th October, 3.30 PM, I realized that I wanted to go home this Diwali to be with my family. It was frighteningly simple and the implications of that realization frgihteningly complex, say like the desire to attend nature's call and being stuck in a Board of Director's meeting, the results of which will be that either ur bowels are the goner or your career is. In this case, luckily my bowels were not at stake and I have taken Biotech as my career option, so I dare u screw me...;)
I got up, feigned nausea and left the class. This was the simpler bit. I walked into a cyber cafe, took a "Waiting List-24" e-ticket for 3-tier AC that cost me a bomb and went back to hostel. I packed all my stuff into the college bag, slung it over m shoulders n set off by 6 in the evening. Was I insane? Yes. Partly 'coz logic goes out of the window when u are faced with two things- raging testosterone overdrive and a raging girlfriend.
I reached at 8 and found that my briliant "get-home-scheme-in-36-hours" was illegal, invalid and unauthorized. I couldn't board the train without a confirmed e-ticket and I had none. My adrenalin all high, I boarded the train without a ticket. Now, here's the pitfall(s) I didn't count for :-
1. The train was abnormally crowded, imagine all the girls in this world finding out that Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise are up for sale and bidding will be done for only 3 hours. Compare the waiting list to the server speed. The WL had gone upto 322 and then the rail authorities stopped the booking.
2. In this Great Indian Diwali Season, the minimum bribe costs 1000 bucks. With cops, it can go upto 5000.
3. People smell and stink in a boiling train moving across the divides of mid-terrain of this hot country. And itches do take place in the most objectionable places, help it or not.
4. You do need to sleep. No matter whatwe do during exams, we need sleep for atleast 5 hours...;)
5. Wailing babies go home during diwali too. And infants do pee n poo in their pants and the smell isn't exactly the le pleasante eau de toilette.
The train departed at 10.15 on the 14th night.
14th Night 10.20 PM-
Scene- 1
I sleep on someone's seat for almost an hour while he checks, re-checks n re-re-checks his ticket. He finally asks whether this is my seat. I stand up cockily and say No. He chucks me out of his seat.
Scene 2-
By 12.30 my legs are aching due to searchin for a place all across the train. People are lying hithereto and thereto and abovetoo and downtoo and sidetoo. I trample legs and hands in my search for a seat. I have no luck. I open a door and sit on the sill for an hour. Time passes comatose as the same scenery and rhythm passes by again and again. Darkness pierced by far-off lights. Darkness again. It almost lulls me off to sleep on the edge of the open door. It's desperation time, I realize grimly. I close the door, and go sleep near a guy whos lyin on a newspaper and bed sheet near a door. He adjusts his kind ass and lets me sleep. I finally fall asleep at 3 at night.
Scene 3- I am forced to wake up at 6 in the morning. By none other than a bunch of eunuchs straddling their threatning stuff for cash. Someone has slapped me lightly on the head I realize drowsily.
"Ai Raaju..dena.." Sound of clapping. Only it's no applause and no music to the ears either.
I force my eyes open after the third time. I vaguely see them. I say "Fuck Off".
They don't understand the lyrics but do get the gist of what I'm telling them to do. And yeah, it doesn't exactly please them.
"AIII RAAAJU!! ZYASTI MAT BOL...DETA HAIN KI UTHAUN??...
I say "Go have sex with yourself." and turn back to get some shut-eye. Only problem is that I don't get any. S/he is clamberin across the crowd of people to me. I panick so fast that a 10 Rs note flies off my hand as if I can mint money from hands. My sleep and money are both taken away from me in a cruel instant. I get up and wash my face. It's the first time that day.
15th October, 11.30 AM
I somewhere read a phrase as a kid on how to express a simile for packed things- "Packed as tight as a box of sardines." This later gave way to -"Packed tighter than the economy section of a Boeing-747." Going further with my story:
The heat is intolerable in the midst of 120 yapping humans inside a single compartment. The only respite is the AC compartments where I can't go and the big tankers having ice in the Pantry Car where I can't dunk my head into. I go wash my face for the seventh time since morning. I drink water like a famished UNICEF refugee from the train vendors.
2.30 PM afternoon:
I still don't have a seat and decide to wander like the lost. With only my backpack for company, I travel across the breadth of the train twice and finally between AC-II tier compartment. The passage is cool owing to the influx of cold winds from the AC-I tier and III tier. I thank the Lord and settle down.
2.45 afternoon:-
I curse the Lord and get up as a TC comes in. His smug and oily face gets an uplift when he sees me.
"Ticket?"-he enquires.
I produce my e-ticket which is so very invalid.
"This isn't valid."- he says through a layer of greasy happiness.
"Dude I want a ticket. How much?"-I had to appear confident if I wanted to save my ass n cash.
He likes being called dude. At 40 and a bun-sized bald spot on his head, anyone would appreciate the subtleties of flattery.
"Student eh?"
"Yea. Goin home for diwali dude." Damn I overdid it. The word "Diwali" bought him back to his senses so fast I didn't know what hit me next.
"That'll be 1500 Rs." - he said smoothly.
I tripped on his words. "How much?"- I asked wide-eyed.
"1500 Rs."
I recovered well. Too well. "You have an ATM card machine in trains? 'Coz I don't have that much in cash." Hell yea I was cocky.
"No but we have a special feature in our trains that helps us in throwing people off it. It's called The Chain. Would you like a demonstration?" Well-said. I almost applauded.
"I have 700 bucks man." I said in a panicky voice.
"I don't have time. Besides, I have an incentive for you. You can yourself pull the chain and get down. Nice na?"
"1000. Last and final."
"1500."
"Where's the chain?"- I said, taking my cockiness to a new level.
"1000 done."- the TC agreed.
Bingo-ding-ding-ding...Haha..Yipppeeee. I mentally hi-fived myself. Not bad huh??..
"So where's the seat dude?"- I guffawed and walked towards AC.
He looked at me as if I was barking mad.
"What?"-I said instinctively.
"Firstly, seat is in Sleeper coach. Second, you get it after Nagpur. Thirdly, I'll still show you the chain just in case it's not a deal."
The happiness fizzed out like a defective suspense plot of a B-grade Kollywood movie. I panicked again.
"1000?"- I stammered.
"Then what? You think you get an AC seat during Diwali season for 1000 bucks? What are u? Super-nuts or somethng?"
I eventually paid him 1000 bucks for a wasted seat which I got only fr 12 hours outo which I spent 7 sleeping on.
You know what the morale of this story is??
P.S.- Screw the morale but gimme some cash man.
P.S.S.- Saying:-
A fool and his money soon part ways.
A modified saying:-
An adrenalin charged emotionally driven cocky man with crazy tendencies of split-decision personality disorder and utter nonsensical blogging habits soon parts his ways with money.
Vote for me now! Blogomania 2010 sponsored by Odyssey360 The 24 hour online book store with 5 milion books to choose from.
Half an hour into my Genetics lecture on this 14th October, 3.30 PM, I realized that I wanted to go home this Diwali to be with my family. It was frighteningly simple and the implications of that realization frgihteningly complex, say like the desire to attend nature's call and being stuck in a Board of Director's meeting, the results of which will be that either ur bowels are the goner or your career is. In this case, luckily my bowels were not at stake and I have taken Biotech as my career option, so I dare u screw me...;)
I got up, feigned nausea and left the class. This was the simpler bit. I walked into a cyber cafe, took a "Waiting List-24" e-ticket for 3-tier AC that cost me a bomb and went back to hostel. I packed all my stuff into the college bag, slung it over m shoulders n set off by 6 in the evening. Was I insane? Yes. Partly 'coz logic goes out of the window when u are faced with two things- raging testosterone overdrive and a raging girlfriend.
I reached at 8 and found that my briliant "get-home-scheme-in-36-hours" was illegal, invalid and unauthorized. I couldn't board the train without a confirmed e-ticket and I had none. My adrenalin all high, I boarded the train without a ticket. Now, here's the pitfall(s) I didn't count for :-
1. The train was abnormally crowded, imagine all the girls in this world finding out that Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise are up for sale and bidding will be done for only 3 hours. Compare the waiting list to the server speed. The WL had gone upto 322 and then the rail authorities stopped the booking.
2. In this Great Indian Diwali Season, the minimum bribe costs 1000 bucks. With cops, it can go upto 5000.
3. People smell and stink in a boiling train moving across the divides of mid-terrain of this hot country. And itches do take place in the most objectionable places, help it or not.
4. You do need to sleep. No matter whatwe do during exams, we need sleep for atleast 5 hours...;)
5. Wailing babies go home during diwali too. And infants do pee n poo in their pants and the smell isn't exactly the le pleasante eau de toilette.
The train departed at 10.15 on the 14th night.
14th Night 10.20 PM-
Scene- 1
I sleep on someone's seat for almost an hour while he checks, re-checks n re-re-checks his ticket. He finally asks whether this is my seat. I stand up cockily and say No. He chucks me out of his seat.
Scene 2-
By 12.30 my legs are aching due to searchin for a place all across the train. People are lying hithereto and thereto and abovetoo and downtoo and sidetoo. I trample legs and hands in my search for a seat. I have no luck. I open a door and sit on the sill for an hour. Time passes comatose as the same scenery and rhythm passes by again and again. Darkness pierced by far-off lights. Darkness again. It almost lulls me off to sleep on the edge of the open door. It's desperation time, I realize grimly. I close the door, and go sleep near a guy whos lyin on a newspaper and bed sheet near a door. He adjusts his kind ass and lets me sleep. I finally fall asleep at 3 at night.
Scene 3- I am forced to wake up at 6 in the morning. By none other than a bunch of eunuchs straddling their threatning stuff for cash. Someone has slapped me lightly on the head I realize drowsily.
"Ai Raaju..dena.." Sound of clapping. Only it's no applause and no music to the ears either.
I force my eyes open after the third time. I vaguely see them. I say "Fuck Off".
They don't understand the lyrics but do get the gist of what I'm telling them to do. And yeah, it doesn't exactly please them.
"AIII RAAAJU!! ZYASTI MAT BOL...DETA HAIN KI UTHAUN??...
I say "Go have sex with yourself." and turn back to get some shut-eye. Only problem is that I don't get any. S/he is clamberin across the crowd of people to me. I panick so fast that a 10 Rs note flies off my hand as if I can mint money from hands. My sleep and money are both taken away from me in a cruel instant. I get up and wash my face. It's the first time that day.
15th October, 11.30 AM
I somewhere read a phrase as a kid on how to express a simile for packed things- "Packed as tight as a box of sardines." This later gave way to -"Packed tighter than the economy section of a Boeing-747." Going further with my story:
The heat is intolerable in the midst of 120 yapping humans inside a single compartment. The only respite is the AC compartments where I can't go and the big tankers having ice in the Pantry Car where I can't dunk my head into. I go wash my face for the seventh time since morning. I drink water like a famished UNICEF refugee from the train vendors.
2.30 PM afternoon:
I still don't have a seat and decide to wander like the lost. With only my backpack for company, I travel across the breadth of the train twice and finally between AC-II tier compartment. The passage is cool owing to the influx of cold winds from the AC-I tier and III tier. I thank the Lord and settle down.
2.45 afternoon:-
I curse the Lord and get up as a TC comes in. His smug and oily face gets an uplift when he sees me.
"Ticket?"-he enquires.
I produce my e-ticket which is so very invalid.
"This isn't valid."- he says through a layer of greasy happiness.
"Dude I want a ticket. How much?"-I had to appear confident if I wanted to save my ass n cash.
He likes being called dude. At 40 and a bun-sized bald spot on his head, anyone would appreciate the subtleties of flattery.
"Student eh?"
"Yea. Goin home for diwali dude." Damn I overdid it. The word "Diwali" bought him back to his senses so fast I didn't know what hit me next.
"That'll be 1500 Rs." - he said smoothly.
I tripped on his words. "How much?"- I asked wide-eyed.
"1500 Rs."
I recovered well. Too well. "You have an ATM card machine in trains? 'Coz I don't have that much in cash." Hell yea I was cocky.
"No but we have a special feature in our trains that helps us in throwing people off it. It's called The Chain. Would you like a demonstration?" Well-said. I almost applauded.
"I have 700 bucks man." I said in a panicky voice.
"I don't have time. Besides, I have an incentive for you. You can yourself pull the chain and get down. Nice na?"
"1000. Last and final."
"1500."
"Where's the chain?"- I said, taking my cockiness to a new level.
"1000 done."- the TC agreed.
Bingo-ding-ding-ding...Haha..Yipppeeee. I mentally hi-fived myself. Not bad huh??..
"So where's the seat dude?"- I guffawed and walked towards AC.
He looked at me as if I was barking mad.
"What?"-I said instinctively.
"Firstly, seat is in Sleeper coach. Second, you get it after Nagpur. Thirdly, I'll still show you the chain just in case it's not a deal."
The happiness fizzed out like a defective suspense plot of a B-grade Kollywood movie. I panicked again.
"1000?"- I stammered.
"Then what? You think you get an AC seat during Diwali season for 1000 bucks? What are u? Super-nuts or somethng?"
I eventually paid him 1000 bucks for a wasted seat which I got only fr 12 hours outo which I spent 7 sleeping on.
You know what the morale of this story is??
P.S.- Screw the morale but gimme some cash man.
P.S.S.- Saying:-
A fool and his money soon part ways.
A modified saying:-
An adrenalin charged emotionally driven cocky man with crazy tendencies of split-decision personality disorder and utter nonsensical blogging habits soon parts his ways with money.
Vote for me now! Blogomania 2010 sponsored by Odyssey360 The 24 hour online book store with 5 milion books to choose from.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Jamming with God...;)
Artistic pleasure and creativity are a sacred breed in today's world as I found out much to my dismay coupla days back. If u have a wave of rebellious and flawed sense of humour, it makes ur work even harder as a trying-to-be-funny-writer. More so if u have a sister who can find an artist's blemish in a Picasso, a friend who thinks that ur a dumb nutcase with a chasm-wide understanding of how and what is to be said where and when and lastly, if u are me...;)
Well, disclaimers aside , I think my last blog was funny. Sadly, the people I came across piggybacked my descriptive wit and told me to write something better cooked and served, and not how and when I proudly announced my father to be a piano player in a whore house and my (almost) escapades. I was hurt. And I decided to jam with God over this. Yea don't blink allright. U read it right. I had a well-nutritioned discussion with God(yea, the Chetan Bhagat one. Just not that serious. I guess he was in some Bruce-Almighty phase or something.)
So yea , I was reflective this Sunday, sitting alone and mulling over world affairs. God came suddenly, and sat next to me. I was hardly surprised by his arrival. U c, I considered myself important enough since childhood to warrant a trip from God himself.
God:- So Arijit, say how's it going?.
Me:- Everything's ok mate. Just thinking about the world and all. The happenings going on.
Dunno why at this point God slyly arched his eyebrows when he looked at me. Slowly, he let out a crooked grin.
God:- World eh? U know who u r lying to? U were just thinking about ur life...
Me(defensively) :- Well yeah. When did I say my world doesn't revolve around me?...
God(sheepishly):- Oh yeah that's true man. Sorry I misinterpreted. And ur thinking that ur life sucks eh?..
I looked at this guy. He was middle-aged. Not a white hair on his body like those cheap mythological TV serials. He was dressed in a crisp linen white shirt and a pale blue jeans. His soft hair looked windswept, as if he had just paratchuted into my room. Well maybe he had. I just didn't give it much thought. Apparently, this was one cool God. I wondered if I could use a profanity.
God grinned - "Well, u can though I wouldn't appreciate it u know. There are certain customs that ought to be followed. Swearing in front of your elders isn't that up in my list but then again, u r some1 who u r. So it's upto u kid." He smiled. It was beatific, an all-knowing grin. This was really cool man.
Me:- Thanx Sir-
God:- "Don't "Sir" me. I'm allergic to it."
I stalled. I strained my brain for a topic. Nothing came. "What do u mean when u said that? I am who I am? What was that?"
God looked thoughtful just for an instant. Then he said-" U r a puzzle Arijit. Well, all of us are. Even me. I'm a puzzle for people out there who have to figure me out for themselves. U r a puzzle which u hv to figure out for yourself. There are people in this world who throw in the towel just coz there's no way out. Trust me when I say this but there's always a way out--
I had to interrupt him. "That is pure crap. Forgive me I just swore but u know what?. U have made this cryptic but there's no reason for that. Innocent people have no reason to die just 'coz they have been caught in the crossfire. It's one thing to say Karma and quite another to actually get a life out here . U deny that?..."
God smile again. It was innocent. " I like fire son. U have fire. We all do. It dies out. U know why?Situations. Circumstances. Ethics. It' s jungle that I have created out there. You can accuse me of partiality son but never accuse me of injustice. I have my ways. They are class and they work. That's why I still have the job kid." He gave a goofy grin and continued-"Sacrilege is acceptable for otherwise you'll never realize what u have lost. You need to cry. Not coz that imbibes faith in the Almighty and makes u realize you are nothing but a mere vulnerable insect in the scheme of my things. No. You need to cry just to make sure u never cry about the same reason twice. Yes people are dying out there. It never makes me flinch. You want to know what does?" He stopped.
I stared, held captive by the charm. He was charismatic, a strange mix of the euphoric and an effervescent craze. I nodded lightly.
He continued-"People are commiting suicide out there man. Why? Low grades. Lost love. Debt. That makes me flinch of what I have created. It makes me want to send a catastrophe out here. Maybe then people will realize what they are shoving around. Life isn't a commodity you bargain for death. Always remember that Arijit."
Heavy. It was heavy. Yet, this guy sitting next to me made sense. But time was up. I didn't realize it yet.
"Do you know why you are talking to me now?"-God asked.
I had no clue. I mean, come to think of it I actually had no clue AT ALL. I was an atheist after all. I was sure he knew that. So why me of all people in this universe?
I negated. "Dunno"- I said.
He grinned. " I saw a T-shirt couple of days back. U know what it said?"
I negated again. I was almost a rag doll in front of him now. I was doing his bidding. Of the guy I pretty much hated. Of someone I didn't believe in.
"I was an atheist until I realized I was God." The smile was child-like, captivating.
Then it was gone. Nothing. I dropped to the the bed, swaying as a heavy mist of sleep clouded me. I hadn't asked him any questions. He had not given me answers. Yet, I found some answers. Somewhere. I had to figure out my puzzle myself. That was what I was meant to do. And God was within me.
Or some shit of that kind, I thought as I lulled off into a dreamless, seamless sleep.
Well, disclaimers aside , I think my last blog was funny. Sadly, the people I came across piggybacked my descriptive wit and told me to write something better cooked and served, and not how and when I proudly announced my father to be a piano player in a whore house and my (almost) escapades. I was hurt. And I decided to jam with God over this. Yea don't blink allright. U read it right. I had a well-nutritioned discussion with God(yea, the Chetan Bhagat one. Just not that serious. I guess he was in some Bruce-Almighty phase or something.)
So yea , I was reflective this Sunday, sitting alone and mulling over world affairs. God came suddenly, and sat next to me. I was hardly surprised by his arrival. U c, I considered myself important enough since childhood to warrant a trip from God himself.
God:- So Arijit, say how's it going?.
Me:- Everything's ok mate. Just thinking about the world and all. The happenings going on.
Dunno why at this point God slyly arched his eyebrows when he looked at me. Slowly, he let out a crooked grin.
God:- World eh? U know who u r lying to? U were just thinking about ur life...
Me(defensively) :- Well yeah. When did I say my world doesn't revolve around me?...
God(sheepishly):- Oh yeah that's true man. Sorry I misinterpreted. And ur thinking that ur life sucks eh?..
I looked at this guy. He was middle-aged. Not a white hair on his body like those cheap mythological TV serials. He was dressed in a crisp linen white shirt and a pale blue jeans. His soft hair looked windswept, as if he had just paratchuted into my room. Well maybe he had. I just didn't give it much thought. Apparently, this was one cool God. I wondered if I could use a profanity.
God grinned - "Well, u can though I wouldn't appreciate it u know. There are certain customs that ought to be followed. Swearing in front of your elders isn't that up in my list but then again, u r some1 who u r. So it's upto u kid." He smiled. It was beatific, an all-knowing grin. This was really cool man.
Me:- Thanx Sir-
God:- "Don't "Sir" me. I'm allergic to it."
I stalled. I strained my brain for a topic. Nothing came. "What do u mean when u said that? I am who I am? What was that?"
God looked thoughtful just for an instant. Then he said-" U r a puzzle Arijit. Well, all of us are. Even me. I'm a puzzle for people out there who have to figure me out for themselves. U r a puzzle which u hv to figure out for yourself. There are people in this world who throw in the towel just coz there's no way out. Trust me when I say this but there's always a way out--
I had to interrupt him. "That is pure crap. Forgive me I just swore but u know what?. U have made this cryptic but there's no reason for that. Innocent people have no reason to die just 'coz they have been caught in the crossfire. It's one thing to say Karma and quite another to actually get a life out here . U deny that?..."
God smile again. It was innocent. " I like fire son. U have fire. We all do. It dies out. U know why?Situations. Circumstances. Ethics. It' s jungle that I have created out there. You can accuse me of partiality son but never accuse me of injustice. I have my ways. They are class and they work. That's why I still have the job kid." He gave a goofy grin and continued-"Sacrilege is acceptable for otherwise you'll never realize what u have lost. You need to cry. Not coz that imbibes faith in the Almighty and makes u realize you are nothing but a mere vulnerable insect in the scheme of my things. No. You need to cry just to make sure u never cry about the same reason twice. Yes people are dying out there. It never makes me flinch. You want to know what does?" He stopped.
I stared, held captive by the charm. He was charismatic, a strange mix of the euphoric and an effervescent craze. I nodded lightly.
He continued-"People are commiting suicide out there man. Why? Low grades. Lost love. Debt. That makes me flinch of what I have created. It makes me want to send a catastrophe out here. Maybe then people will realize what they are shoving around. Life isn't a commodity you bargain for death. Always remember that Arijit."
Heavy. It was heavy. Yet, this guy sitting next to me made sense. But time was up. I didn't realize it yet.
"Do you know why you are talking to me now?"-God asked.
I had no clue. I mean, come to think of it I actually had no clue AT ALL. I was an atheist after all. I was sure he knew that. So why me of all people in this universe?
I negated. "Dunno"- I said.
He grinned. " I saw a T-shirt couple of days back. U know what it said?"
I negated again. I was almost a rag doll in front of him now. I was doing his bidding. Of the guy I pretty much hated. Of someone I didn't believe in.
"I was an atheist until I realized I was God." The smile was child-like, captivating.
Then it was gone. Nothing. I dropped to the the bed, swaying as a heavy mist of sleep clouded me. I hadn't asked him any questions. He had not given me answers. Yet, I found some answers. Somewhere. I had to figure out my puzzle myself. That was what I was meant to do. And God was within me.
Or some shit of that kind, I thought as I lulled off into a dreamless, seamless sleep.
Friday, July 31, 2009
If this was true...;)
Vote for me now! Blogomania 2010 sponsored by Odyssey360 The 24 hour online book store with 5 milion books to choose from.
P.S.- If you are a regular reader, you are probably used to the occasional epiliptic epiphany of mine which is sometimes more than not followed by bursts of "intellectual"(acc. to me..;) scenario in which real gives way to the hypothetical and a whacko blog comes forth that is unbelievable to the hilt. However, if you are new here, read further and expect nothing coz the truth has given way a "bit" to hypothetical again...;)
There are things in life, some of them which leave a sour taste in the mouth. Sometimes the tastes remain and sometimes the tide of time turns into a grin of reminiscence. This blog is about those times and what if scenario. Don't bail out now...;)
1. Somewhere back in the days there was a kid, let's say kinda like me. Now, i am not saying that it was me. It's hypothetical remember. There was a teacher in his class who used to teach them English. Once, the kid's answer was shot down by the teacher as incorrect. Now the kid thought his answer was correct but the teacher was just jealous that the kid could beat him in his subject. The pupil began to hate the teacher and just to annoy him, would give the weirdest of answers in class. Just to piss him off, mind you.
One fine day, the teacher thought the class kids should learn the art of speaking in public and he asked them, one by one, to tell the class briefly what their parents did. Now, that one kid thought he will piss his teacher off here as well. He waited, and waited, and waited for his turn. His turn came. He went to the front of class, the whole class looked expectantly and the teacher looked on patiently. With a crooked goofy grin, he said-" Hi. My dad plays the piano in a whore house."
Now, what followed next was an inarticulate silence from the teacher that wiped the grin from the kid and the innocence from the class. When the kid returned home and was asked by his mother why he had finger marks all over his little cheek, he shrugged and said -" Creativity Mum. It's not appreciated any more."
Yes. The kid survived to the tale. Oh, I mean tell me the tale. Sorry about that. All hypothetical remember.
2. There was once another guy, now in his teens, around 15. Assume it to be someone like..yeah, you know the answer you brainy gits...;) Assume remember. And in this case, it's even more important that i stress it's all assumption. So one day this guy was walking down the street one foggy January night and he felt the need to relieve himself. Yea pee. Right. So he chose a deserted corner of the billions available in this part of the world and went ahead. What he ddn't notice was that a man had followed him for some time. As the guy finished and turned back on his way, the man approached the satiated guy.
"Sir."-the man called.
The guy looked back, saw the man and looked around. He had never been called "Sir" before. He wanted to be sure before telling his friends.
"Who me?"- the guy asked moronically, like a dumb nitwit whilst he should have shown confidence at havin been called "Sir". Maybe that was the reason what happened next. He never found out though.
The man approached closer in that freaking foggy night. It was cold. The man came closer till he stopped face to face.
"It's very cold Sir."- the man said.
"Yea. And I'm sorry I don't have any money if thats what you want."- the guy was blunt.
"No no no. U misunderstand me Sir. I don't want cash. Infact I can give u money if u want."- the man offered.
"Really?"-the teenagers eyes were pickedly lecherous.
"Yea. Tell me. Are u open to sexual experimentation?"
The guy ddnt want the money that bad. He ran off like a hooker in a police raid. And he had to wait 1 more year before someone called him Sir again. That was when he went to open his bank account. He felt depressed at being called Sir. Till date he has never peed in public again.
Oh yeah by the way, he's completely normal and straight. Any cute chick interested in talking is most welcome. Post a comment and I'll give u m no. I mean his no.
Till the next time when the hypothetical rises again.
Adios.
Astalavista. Take Care.
P.S.- And someone tell me someone reads this blog. Otherwise I'll delete it and commit suicide. All hypothetically of course...;)
P.S.- If you are a regular reader, you are probably used to the occasional epiliptic epiphany of mine which is sometimes more than not followed by bursts of "intellectual"(acc. to me..;) scenario in which real gives way to the hypothetical and a whacko blog comes forth that is unbelievable to the hilt. However, if you are new here, read further and expect nothing coz the truth has given way a "bit" to hypothetical again...;)
There are things in life, some of them which leave a sour taste in the mouth. Sometimes the tastes remain and sometimes the tide of time turns into a grin of reminiscence. This blog is about those times and what if scenario. Don't bail out now...;)
1. Somewhere back in the days there was a kid, let's say kinda like me. Now, i am not saying that it was me. It's hypothetical remember. There was a teacher in his class who used to teach them English. Once, the kid's answer was shot down by the teacher as incorrect. Now the kid thought his answer was correct but the teacher was just jealous that the kid could beat him in his subject. The pupil began to hate the teacher and just to annoy him, would give the weirdest of answers in class. Just to piss him off, mind you.
One fine day, the teacher thought the class kids should learn the art of speaking in public and he asked them, one by one, to tell the class briefly what their parents did. Now, that one kid thought he will piss his teacher off here as well. He waited, and waited, and waited for his turn. His turn came. He went to the front of class, the whole class looked expectantly and the teacher looked on patiently. With a crooked goofy grin, he said-" Hi. My dad plays the piano in a whore house."
Now, what followed next was an inarticulate silence from the teacher that wiped the grin from the kid and the innocence from the class. When the kid returned home and was asked by his mother why he had finger marks all over his little cheek, he shrugged and said -" Creativity Mum. It's not appreciated any more."
Yes. The kid survived to the tale. Oh, I mean tell me the tale. Sorry about that. All hypothetical remember.
2. There was once another guy, now in his teens, around 15. Assume it to be someone like..yeah, you know the answer you brainy gits...;) Assume remember. And in this case, it's even more important that i stress it's all assumption. So one day this guy was walking down the street one foggy January night and he felt the need to relieve himself. Yea pee. Right. So he chose a deserted corner of the billions available in this part of the world and went ahead. What he ddn't notice was that a man had followed him for some time. As the guy finished and turned back on his way, the man approached the satiated guy.
"Sir."-the man called.
The guy looked back, saw the man and looked around. He had never been called "Sir" before. He wanted to be sure before telling his friends.
"Who me?"- the guy asked moronically, like a dumb nitwit whilst he should have shown confidence at havin been called "Sir". Maybe that was the reason what happened next. He never found out though.
The man approached closer in that freaking foggy night. It was cold. The man came closer till he stopped face to face.
"It's very cold Sir."- the man said.
"Yea. And I'm sorry I don't have any money if thats what you want."- the guy was blunt.
"No no no. U misunderstand me Sir. I don't want cash. Infact I can give u money if u want."- the man offered.
"Really?"-the teenagers eyes were pickedly lecherous.
"Yea. Tell me. Are u open to sexual experimentation?"
The guy ddnt want the money that bad. He ran off like a hooker in a police raid. And he had to wait 1 more year before someone called him Sir again. That was when he went to open his bank account. He felt depressed at being called Sir. Till date he has never peed in public again.
Oh yeah by the way, he's completely normal and straight. Any cute chick interested in talking is most welcome. Post a comment and I'll give u m no. I mean his no.
Till the next time when the hypothetical rises again.
Adios.
Astalavista. Take Care.
P.S.- And someone tell me someone reads this blog. Otherwise I'll delete it and commit suicide. All hypothetically of course...;)
Friday, June 26, 2009
Oh Calcutta!!!....
Here's d discalimer fellas...if ur true blue die-hard rosogulla hoggin phuchka loving bong browbeater outside d human realms of humor den read furthr...;)...coz u c i luv d rxn of bengalis wen dey r confrontd wid d cons of calcutta...trust me evn if i went out wid a hot bong chick i wuld go slambang abt calcutta to gt her xpressions...for,u c u can take a person outta bengal bt u cnt take d bengal outta person...i vil leave out a lot of d real bengal coz i dnt hv d amputted frame of mind to covr it succintly...so here goes;)
Calcutta frst thngs frst ain't d "City of Lights"...d brevity of existing life out here is a contrast 2 a million color Sony Bravia...D paradox of Calcutta being calld "City of Lights" is somwat lyk callin Mumbai "Slumber Paradise"...or callin Delhi "Mild Intoxication"...fr Mumbai isnt slumber paradise n Delhi isnt mild...nw dat u hv gt dat straight n goin lets head in2 Oh Calcutta!!!...;)
Out here, d local lingo is d one u catch on a bus as u hop on frm Howrah Railway Station to ur destination...d slangs of d irritated driver n d irksome conductor r encoded in lyf by tongue-in-cheek wit...in different states dere r signs on d bus:-
aamchi Mumbai- dont talk to d driver...
saddi Delhi- please refrain from talkin to d driver...
namma Bangalore- ur requested not to talk to d driver...
n in aamar Calcutta-do not answer d driver...;)
as d driver maneuvers d rickety bus thru d umpteenth pothole n d millionth crowded street, every single passenger vil comment smtym or d oder-"daao bus ta ami chalai...nahole kal baadi pounchobo...(lemme drive u git oderwise v will reach home tommorrow)"...out here every1 of d passengr is an xpert hand at navigating thru d streets apart frm d two persons actually meant to...;)
Till day i hvnt met one typical bengali relative who wuldnt dole out advice free...n d range is vividly despairing...if i ws suffering frm a headache d possible explanation wuld b provided wid a furrowed eyebrow..."dunno bt i think hangover maybe...in case of an accident in which i ws ridin pillion..."u know wat??...dis kid is a real brat...y do u evn give him ur keys??...i cnt understand y u wnt to kill ur own son...u c wen my son raja ws small he bla blah blah blah..."
I remembr i used 2 despair wen sm of my aunthentic bengali relativs came ovr...dey wuld b one ounce of iron clad wisdom rolled in a rickety body which wuld go in2 hibernation if dey evr came in cold or heat...if dey did come durng peak cold i wuld wait eagerly to hv my revenge...wid deir cracking feet n complaints of faridabad bein toooooo cold for human survival, dey wuld flick on d heater n dig deep inside deir blanket burrow n go to sleep...one or two at nyt, i wuld creep up, switch off d heater n put on d fan at max...gute neight...;-P
Calcutta grls r d salvage...dey are howevr whr beauty lies in its true meaning...i hv seen delhi grls n bangalore grls...mumbai grls nt yet bt if beauty cuteness pretty watevr ws to b compared clcutta grls wuld beat dem hollow...lyk dey r beautiful wid most havin soulful eyes...n brains yea...;) As i said dey r d salvage fr a city dats coping undr d cloggage of past n d future, binded by d picnic of politics in d ugliest possible way, of a city strugglin to retain its glory of d past, of a city dats weighd down by d baggage of old blood n poltical excreta whr d young blood is wired flesh, blood n bone in2 d sick game of double handling undr d table cld politics...
Sad??...I'll leave dat to u 2 decide..
Calcutta frst thngs frst ain't d "City of Lights"...d brevity of existing life out here is a contrast 2 a million color Sony Bravia...D paradox of Calcutta being calld "City of Lights" is somwat lyk callin Mumbai "Slumber Paradise"...or callin Delhi "Mild Intoxication"...fr Mumbai isnt slumber paradise n Delhi isnt mild...nw dat u hv gt dat straight n goin lets head in2 Oh Calcutta!!!...;)
Out here, d local lingo is d one u catch on a bus as u hop on frm Howrah Railway Station to ur destination...d slangs of d irritated driver n d irksome conductor r encoded in lyf by tongue-in-cheek wit...in different states dere r signs on d bus:-
aamchi Mumbai- dont talk to d driver...
saddi Delhi- please refrain from talkin to d driver...
namma Bangalore- ur requested not to talk to d driver...
n in aamar Calcutta-do not answer d driver...;)
as d driver maneuvers d rickety bus thru d umpteenth pothole n d millionth crowded street, every single passenger vil comment smtym or d oder-"daao bus ta ami chalai...nahole kal baadi pounchobo...(lemme drive u git oderwise v will reach home tommorrow)"...out here every1 of d passengr is an xpert hand at navigating thru d streets apart frm d two persons actually meant to...;)
Till day i hvnt met one typical bengali relative who wuldnt dole out advice free...n d range is vividly despairing...if i ws suffering frm a headache d possible explanation wuld b provided wid a furrowed eyebrow..."dunno bt i think hangover maybe...in case of an accident in which i ws ridin pillion..."u know wat??...dis kid is a real brat...y do u evn give him ur keys??...i cnt understand y u wnt to kill ur own son...u c wen my son raja ws small he bla blah blah blah..."
I remembr i used 2 despair wen sm of my aunthentic bengali relativs came ovr...dey wuld b one ounce of iron clad wisdom rolled in a rickety body which wuld go in2 hibernation if dey evr came in cold or heat...if dey did come durng peak cold i wuld wait eagerly to hv my revenge...wid deir cracking feet n complaints of faridabad bein toooooo cold for human survival, dey wuld flick on d heater n dig deep inside deir blanket burrow n go to sleep...one or two at nyt, i wuld creep up, switch off d heater n put on d fan at max...gute neight...;-P
Calcutta grls r d salvage...dey are howevr whr beauty lies in its true meaning...i hv seen delhi grls n bangalore grls...mumbai grls nt yet bt if beauty cuteness pretty watevr ws to b compared clcutta grls wuld beat dem hollow...lyk dey r beautiful wid most havin soulful eyes...n brains yea...;) As i said dey r d salvage fr a city dats coping undr d cloggage of past n d future, binded by d picnic of politics in d ugliest possible way, of a city strugglin to retain its glory of d past, of a city dats weighd down by d baggage of old blood n poltical excreta whr d young blood is wired flesh, blood n bone in2 d sick game of double handling undr d table cld politics...
Sad??...I'll leave dat to u 2 decide..
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