freudian slip

ahem

2010-03-26T07:06:00.000-07:00

im not very sure about the following one.
but here goes

Mummyjis who like to fuck.

Sex scandal and brown trash’s ultimate young novel.

He paced around the hotel lobby, nursing his classic milds, dressed the exact antithesis of his true dress sense, tight skinny fitting jeans hed saved up and bought for an unheard of price, tight man cleavage bearing neon party shirt. Enough hair gel to make him look like he showered in it every morning,

Every once hed stop and look at the mirror, and spontaneously dissolve into a mind numbing seriesod subtle poses trying to figure out which one he needed for tonight. Tonight wouldn’t be about the inteelectual, the patroness in question was from a very rich diamond merchants wife in surat, She needed Bollywood, she needed low threatening voices, uber masculine, urban cowboy with a low self esteem type looks and yet submissive in bed, the type whod have to jump through hoops, the type which was trying to dissolve a lifetimes worth of repressed sexuality with a vengeful efficiency. The type who’d pay really well though, and often bit on more than they could chew. They liked submissive, but not to an effeminate extent. Just enough to rid them of the frustration of always being told what to do.. Not really Skinny dominatrix parsi from south Mumbai who once made him lick a commode

A hoarse absolute monstrosity of a woman sat at a table in the lobby, having successfully, (though not very well) managed to fit into a dress much, much tighter than her poor waistline deserved.

Not her, for fucks sake, not her” our man thought, but sure enough, she made a not too subtle sensual hint for him to sit by her.

He could almost feel his penis shrink back in repulsion, and as he did so incredibly often in these situations, our man began with what promis to be the heart and soul of this entire tale, he begins his youtube famous conversations with his penis.

It might seem funny bu it really wasn’t, for ever since that one time he popped a tab of acid at goa, he started having these very vivid often elaborate conversations with his penis. The began with the penis’es (penii???) initially dancing in his head as they sang little monologues, limericks and occasionally stand up comedy which was, (obviously), always below the belt. But soon they became full on conversations, with topics ranging from “does megan fox really have a wiener?” to the more serious, “would you ever do Mayawati, even to gain enormous political power??”

“all right laddie, no shrinking back, the dress makes her look fatter than she actually is”

“are you fucking with me man,” said his penis, in a voice almost exactly like Danny DeVito”if I entered her it’d be like trying to bridge a crack in the hoover dam with a thumb”

“it paying a lot”

“fuck that, the last time we were paid this much I was scared to come out for weeks, This ones gonna be freaky”

“you like freaky”

“not when the person being nasty looks like she ate an entire lineup of hells angels as a midnight snack”
“you’re exaggerating again man, she still has vestiges of smouldering beauty in her eyes”

“that’s not smouldering beauty, she’s half a bottle of black label down”

“we were paid in advance and shes paying twice what she initially offered”

“I’ll need performance enhancers though”

“attaboy”

“I told you, I hate being referred to as a boy, or little man, or the small soldier, Just because im so attached to you doesn’t mean I cant be hurt by what you say”

“ricky?”, a tobacco toughened, 70 going on 17 voice asked.

“Hi sexy, I wouldn’t have guessed a sexy woman like you would’ve needed me, Charmed”
And he kissed the mottled palm, looked up at her grotesquely made up face and tried to stop thinking of what the next couple of hours would be like.

They went up the lift, the attendant looking at them with a cynical knowing look. And as they finally entered the beasts lair, he launched into it.

Being a gigolo in india was a fanastic job opportunity, simply because most Indian men thought foreplay was a blowjob and maybe squeezing a few tits. So when he xpertly kissed her neck and trailed a wet tongue right around her ear, she was randy as a bull with a chastity belt during mating season.

“try not to look down” he chanted as he gave the diamond merchants wife a reason to sparkle.

After three hours where he wanted nothing more than to throw up, he succeeded in giving mrs Mehta a screamer.

Gets out of the hotel. Rumbles his thunderbird twinspark and rushes home. For a long long shower and some very strong alcohol to forget what had just happened.

Ends up jacking off to something. Forgets what it is.

Morning brings life. Wakes up at home.

Its 10.30 in the morning and hes a college student. An engineering college student.

He had a girlfriend too.

He loved her.

He liked booze and pussy just as much though.

Hes home now.

question everything

2009-12-09T09:22:00.000-08:00

Question everything.

What makes democracy just so incredibly fucked up is that somehow, every single person seems to have gotten it in their heads that they have an innate right to tell you what exactly is good for you.

Lets break it down now. There I was watching a gorgeous absolutely gorgeous sunset off marine drive, watching the sun emblazon a dying trail of orange in the murky waters of the choked Arabian sea. When a cop stops by. And offers me an oh so friendly piece of advice that, I ought to stub my cigarette out. Not because its unhealthy, or because the smell was damaging the unborn foetus that would be the only way to explain his extremely large girth. But because I was too young to smoke and therefore did not appreciate how much effort it took to earn the 5 rupees that I spent on said fag.

Yes.

No I get it. Im a spoilt brat who indulges himself in the carnal pleasure of a pensive smoke with a vengeance. And therefore I ought to be taught the value of money. Im not questioning the cops motives. I even stubbed out my fag.

But It got me thinking that that’s where we all got buttfucked in the name of the glorious ideals of democracy. That somehow people have begun to subconsciously think that BECAUSE they have the right to free speech and a hefty amount of self appointed authority, they therefore reserve the right to pontificate.

Think about it. That’s where democracy in india made the faeces hit the fan. Not because people now had the freddom of thought and expression and of choosing the people they wanted to legislate their own morality. But because they appointed themselves to be the guardians of their own ideals.

Okay big brother.

Lets play it your way shall we.

Let me exercise my right as a free thinking superliberal and tell you where youre going wrong.

Everywhere.

Haha

See you’ve already developed a hearty, justifiable dislike for me. You already hate the fact that I smoke; I drink and that I lead a life that your mummy and daddy wouldn’t really like a lot.

The problem is that because youre entitled to your point of you, and because there are just so many of you who think youre right and that my point of view is too elitist and radical for you that youre allowed to tell me im wrong.

But the bigger problem is when you gather up the dumbest, most dimwitted of your lot, and rampage through the seams of my being. Forcing your irrationality into my very pores until my only options are to be a societal outcast, or submit forcibly to your point of view.
You disgust me, the lot of you. You disgust so many trodden others who aren’t in a position of power to tell you that what to force upon us isn’t right.

I write this for every couple that couldn’t sit in a garden and enjoy some time to yourself because some older women got jealous of your vitality and called the fat watchdogs of justice on your tails. I write this on behalf of every person who wanted to have a smoke in an outdoor café and couldn’t because the self righteous individual to your right couldn’t handle the simple task of moving indoors. I write this for every single shopkeeper who had his windows broken because his signboard was in the wrong language. For every person who stood there and watched as “swayamsevaks” made a mockery of justice, democracy and hope. For every individual who was forced to hide indoors when groups of mentally deficient individuals ran amok frothing at the mouth and baying for the blood of innocents to avenge a death that occurred on a different continent. For every individual who reads the morning paper and puts it down in sheer disbelief. For every person who wished SOMEONE would say something. I write this for the true minority. I write this for the free spirits, for the thinkers, for the rationals, for the atheists.

But I don’t intend to be one sided. Im a part of the minority, the very same who do things like heart warming campaigns telling people to switch off their lights for an hour and throwing pink underwear, and rallies for peace, brotherhood and social justice (don’t get me wrong, I loved those campaigns, I still do.), only to go home to their high paying jobs and go to sleep each night hoping SOMEONE would continue the work to be done. I write this with a steady hatred building in me. I froth at the mouth that im writing a synopsis of something that should have been said, or already has been said a million different times, in a million different contexts, I write this with the devout hope that what I say wont be confused for the arrogance of the ignorant youth. That my message isn’t blown off by me myself as an outburst of failed attempts to communicate with the other side.

The truth is im scared.

Im terrified. Testicle freezing terrified that I grow old and lose this one thing that seems to drive me, that like the billons of others before me, I give up on this one true war. This war against the people who would allow their children to be brainwashed, people who’d wrap themselves in their own blankets of yuppie warmth to an extent that they didn’t realize when it became their shroud. Im terrified as I see the number of supposedly brilliant, supposedly rational individuals who still refuse to think for themselves. We’ve let ourselves believe that our true victory often lies in the fact that we were left alone forsaking actual proactivity for the sake of good natured coexistence, regularly punctuated by interference from the arseholes when they think we’ve crossed a line, and then obediently toeing the line.

Im in a college that prides itself in beign a hotbed for intelligence, I study amidst individuals who might eventually grow to be captains of industry, and sadly therefore, of society itself, and yet I see people who would subscribe to the QES, the quickest, easiest solution for things.

Because obviously, that’s the root of all evil, the QES, Cant get laid because youre too ugly and stupid??? no worries, just ban any sexuality to permeate into any media around you. Cant get a job for yourself because someone else smarter and more hard working than you came in the way??? There there now, that’s an easy one, find a bunch of others just like you, form a state for yourselves, and throw the others right out of it. Don’t like the new music, that your son’s friends are playing, the new movies theyre watching??? Well, forbid your son from meeting those evil westernized good for nothings, and youll never have to listen to it again. Cannot decide, or rather would not waste valuable brainspace to think of a way of life that would suit you, or one that answers the eternal questions?? Use centuries old philosophies and pretend everything that was said then is and was true. Brought up to realize certain things are good and certain others are bad, no problem son, why take the effort of finding out for yourself, just stick to the one you’ve been taught and things will be fine and dandy.

Ive said and rued this a million times before, were shining india, were the country that might one day rule the world. But weve never had a summer of love, weve never really had a generation that wanted to stop doing blindly and start thinking. Weve never had our bill hicks, or our timothy leary’s, if you think that a generation of hippys would be counterproductive, go ahead, look at some of the most insightful corporates today, steve jobs comes to mind, an out and out hippy, who came to india, smoked more than his share of weed, dropped out of college and thought for himself.

Im tired now as a shrink back into a world weary state of existence, but I truly do live for moments like these, for moments when I lie back and think. For the few times when I didn’t have a deadline to submit to or an exam the next day.

I know that what ive written right now might positively be the single most clichéd thing ive ever managed to write. That even as I re read this I realize I sound like a paranoid hippy questioning government conspiracies. But for too long have we just sat by and procrastinated, and sought nothing more than to be left alone. And maybe this is just me, But that’s my point. Where on earth are the Indian hippies???

and how have you been

2009-09-24T22:46:00.000-07:00

ive had the time, or rather the opportunity to write something for the first time in over a month and a bleeding half. its been fucked, the month that is.

and no this isnt im so exhausted and i broke up fucked , but more of a i was hospitalised for the exact duration of my exams with acute glomerulonephritis post streptococcal infection.

what that means, is that somehow, a bunch of bacteria with an attitude gave me a throat infection.

and then, as if making me wince everytime i eat wasnt bad enough, they hit my kidneys.

severe kidney infection. complete with the almost complete loss of ability to breathe, peeing blood, and the coup de grace, my body began to retain water and i looked like a bullfrog in mating season.

end result, a bleeding week in a hospital, an entire day on oxygen, 15 blood tests, 20, yes 20 urine tests and food without salt or protein for almost 2 weeks.

ive lost all that weight now, and then some.

still feel the exhaustion sometimes,

on the bright side though, the attention was kinda cool. plus i got to travel in a wheelchair.

REALLY dont know why im telling you this.

p.s if youre ever seriously sick in mumbai, go to saifee hosital off charni road station
doctors are amazing, its state of the art and i had a better view of the queens necklace than mukesh friggin ambani.

confess edit

2009-08-09T20:47:00.000-07:00

the alarm shrieks into his unconscious mind. and he jumps out of his bed. his enormous queen size bed that the company provided as one of the perks for his ability to withstand constant monotonous bullshit for the better part of his existence. he gets up to look into his mirror naked. hes a short man, barely 5 feet and some inches to show off about. his body covered in hair, a greying carapace of age. his expression one of forced acceptance. he looks at himself in the mirror, and sees himself, short, fat, grey, watery eyed, he hopes that one day when people read this, they appreciate how painfully the raconteur attempts to achieve noir.

but today is different. even through his myopic watery eyes there seems to be a hint of electricity. a sharp clarity gleaming through the opacity of mundaneness that seemed to normally cataract his eyes.today he doesnt wish he were another human being, this morning as he looks himself in the mirror, he doesnt feel the pangs of nihilism that normally drive him to the teetering point when he realizes that the only thing left for hm to do was to die.

but today is different. its the end of the first week of the first month of the year. and as he hurriedly dresses up, carefully picking up something out of his obviously insignificant wardrobe that might make him even less conspicuous.

he shuffles out of his barely furnished apartment, peeks into his tiny, meticulously clean dressing room that was scattered with pornography.

he read one as he had his breakfast. he read of how these immensely gorgeus bleached blonde women loved nothing more than to fuck. how they loved men with a sense of humoour and no money in their name. how size did matter to them.

he hides a nostalgic smile as he remembers the first time he nervously picked out a magazine from a newspaper vendor on the other side of town. hed promised himself it was simply an interlude. a simple harmless cheap way of getting some pleasure.

15 years had passed. the magazines had exponentially increased only now they were backed up with the internet and the tv. hed attempted to satisfy himself once or twice with some women off the street. but had discovered that fiction was far far more satisfying that truth. he was a conoisseur, a gourmand. his appetite sharp and his ability to not be disturbed llegendary. he loved every one of the genres, the ones with the cheerleaders, the ones with older women, the ones with animals, and men and leather whips and pain. but he loved most of all the amateurs on secret cameras, the people who seemingly led ordinary lives, but given the right scenarios could be exceedingly obscene and inhibition free.

he told himself he was better than the other men he knew but could no longer talk too. women had for long stopped talking to him. something about his eyes they said. he was better then the men; them with their alcohol and their strippers. splurging inane amounts of money on girls who coudlnt hold a candle to his candies and tiffanies and ambers and foxxs.

he lived an otherwise abstemious existence having convinced himself that the trade off was more then fair.

but something very very unnerving had happened the last few times hed , as he put it in his mind, had some quality time. for 15 years whenever he was done, hed lie back for a moment, his mind gloriously blank, and clean and observe reality begin to sketch surrealist whorls on his mind. hed feel truly and joyously content. hed feel like a man.

but now, it felt hollow. it felt incomplete. it was beyond frustrating, the feeling. but he persevered, believing that it was only the brunette whod put himoff. but it kept happening, with every magazine, ever video, every genre, every toy.

he couldnt sleep. how could he. no longer was he the virile, ever pleasing stud of his dreams. the adamintinee chains of escapism hed tied around himself beginning to weaken, hie shroud letting in light.

he took days and weeks off work, spending all his time on his couch, spening quality time. his member ached, his eyes watered, but he still couldnt feel what he felt.

but today promised to be different. the idea occured to him while he watched a nun getting gagged and violated by a horse as she fellatioed a midget. he walked to the nearest church. the one in his incredibly boring, locality. with its stepford wives and abercrombie dads.

the surroundings felt alien, the silence stiffling. he looked at it, and walked around inside. a man in a cassock walks towards him. an enquiring look in his creased, world weary face.

he mumbles an apology a the intrusion, then states his business. he tells the priest hed like to donate half his monthly income to the church, every month for the remainder of his life.

the priest is taken aback, but doesnt wish to look a gift horse in the mouth, the church is poor, its flock a little too tightfisted for devout people of god.

but the man states his single, seemingly perverse condition. and the status quo.

the priest looks away into the distance, and starts sweating tremulously. our protagonist, the seemingly harmless pervert has taken a new dimension, the position of power. the man who knows the priest liked to be tied up and gagged a very long time ago. It gves him a terrifying sense of power. something the magazines never did. And as he walks out, as he steps into the sunshine. he looks into a mirror, and sees sparks fly.

the agreement is made and no more words are said.

For the entire week he lives in a limbo, the incredibly long wait for something you never knew you wanted, but that you realize you just cant live without.

the next sunday, as mass files out our man approaches the priest, nods at him and disappears, only to appear clad in the cassock hed brought with him.

the switch is made. and he finds himself where hed fantasized the most.

he begins to listen to faces unkown, to spy into the underbelly of humanity. to see real amateurs perform for him the way the sites promised they would but never delivered, to touch himself again. to mumble out his vile advice. to be the ultimate voyeur. He realizes that this was going to be his newest addiction, that this was as the magazines put it, the real deal. he sits there for what seems to be an eternity, and watches the flock pile in. blondes, brunettes, children, men, women.

they tell him of indiscretions, of naughty things done, of unspeakable acts committed, he listens to the girl next door tell him of her violent propensities in the boudoir, to the mother who liked to fuck her poolboy, to the man who paid for his babysitters abortion. the just turned 18 year old cheerleader babysitter who was raped but didnt know it.

He listens to the stories hed only fantasized about actually happening. he sees nothing but their eyes, and this makes him harder than ever. for all the pornography hed watched, hed never seen the eyes commit the act, hed always seen them to be grey mirrors indulging in, but never a part of the deeds the bodies committed.

but these eyes were real. these eyes told him the truth. these eyes were one hundred percent. silicone free real. they revealed to him another plane of personal pleasure. he realized what hed been missing out on all these years as he immersed himself in the skin deep sensory overload of airbrushed bodies and screaming orgasms.

he listens

and listens

and when hes done spending some quality time in the confessional.

he emerges.

satisfied.

he buys himself a cigarette from the same newspaper vendor who sold him his magazines.

the vendor winks at him, and takes out a rather large bundle of that months newest and latest offerings. discreetly wrapped in brown paper.

he exhales a cloud of smoke, and through the grey fog, the vendor could still make out his shining eyes.

"porn?? thats for suckers innit?"

rant

2009-07-07T04:44:00.000-07:00

im blogging because i simply want to, because ive sent the better part of the last 20 days trying to think of one awesome idea that would all at once make th world sit up and take notice. obviously this has been ample reason for me to sit alone in my EMPTY FOR 6 MONTHS flatby the parapet watching it rain like a bitch outside with my first bottle of single malt, a cigarette and my fleecy bathroom slippers and just remember how kickass life can be sometimes.

but then again i tried to force it, to sit down and literally choke an idea out. to regurgitate from a conversation id already have had, to mope over ideas id had ages ago and build something worthwhile. and all could come up with was a billion ideas all of them ither already done or too simplistic to consider.

and so i thought of what might happen the day after tomorrow.

what if we evolved tomorrow into perfection, a be all end all state of existence . what if all at once every single being on the planet mutated into near omnipotent omniscient beings who knew the answer to life the universe and everything.

even why girls have to go to the bathroom in packs.

what if we achieved all that weve ever strived for, a state of complete and utter supercomplexity or one where we attain a simplistic end.what if we ran out of ideas, if no one person had anything new to say to the other, if all our humour had become an email forward even before we thought of it ourselves, if weve had all the conversations, built all the buildings, screwed all the people, sang all the songs and basically did everything there was to do. what if every woman found a caring sweet stud-like sensitive man who had a sense of humour, loved kids, was a kachingabingabilliionaire and could give back massages. and every dude found a smoking hot chick who was into threesomes.

what would we be then?? would we succumb to a utopian ideal society where somehow everything managed itself?? or would we implode in a mass suicide due to a coke overdose because everyone was just so bored.?? we might even try to go for a zeus like scenario, where we connect ourselves around the world at the same time, and then all at once, we perform a complete memory wipe. the ultimate flood, as it were.
free to loop everything again.

aussi, ive been reading a lot of dawkins recently, about how our raison d'etre should be the discovery, of how every day of our existence should be propelled by the driving force that is our curiosity, our abilty to wonder, our knowledge that we still know practically nothing.

im not so sure, i mean sure it makes a lot more sense and certainly sounds a lot better then going into a good looking building where having sex is a taboo and complaining into thin air. but is there a third alternative???

Dubai/daddy needs a cigarette

2009-06-15T01:37:00.000-07:00

i got back from dubai just last night, after a 5 day weekend sojourn avec famille.

if that doesnt explain the title, you obviously havent read my blog enough.

dubai is a seriously messed up place, i know i ought to be myself and write a verbose, spiralling bore like i have over the last couple of weeks, but seriously that place has died a true rock star death, choked on its own puke after a binge.

either that or the ruler has to have the smallest penis in thee world as is obvious by his overpowering need to build skyscrapers for abso-friggin-lutely no reason at all.

dont get me wrong now, i adore architecture, i really do. but with the exception of maybe 3-44 outstanding buildings, nearly everything was blah. be it the TWIN copies of the chrysler building and most of the newer business bay buildings.

the tragedy of the entire situation however, is the fact that dubai is suffering what bill hicks wished would happen to LA, that its on the verge of sinking metaphorically under the weight of the recession. most of the buildings are still incomplete, and stare morosely at the stagnating city through broken window-eyes.

it is a city of extremes though, there's no two ways about that, but its not for the proletariat. its too expensive, too flashy, too gaudy at times and speaking as a resident of mumbai, its too sleazy. thing about mumbai is that its like a good natured con sometimes, honestly dishonest so that you learn to sidestep the cracks in the pavement.

dubai thought is a whole new level of sleaze (or maybe it was just me on a dry spell), but it seemed too hypocritical, too artificial, just so incredibly fake that its a tad abhorring.

but there were tons of laughs though, and in retrospect i should have taken a photo of this, wild wadi the incredibly expensive water park, had so much skin on display, even someone so inherently voyeuristic as i, wanted to run around covering people up, (probably not because its morally wrong to dress so skimpily, but because i knew i didnt have a shot, not even at all,)

not that i wanted to, you understand.

the awe inspiring irony was that just at the entrance of the park, right opposite the ladies changing room,was a picture of attire that was permissible, the attire being a full body loose swimsuit that looks like a waterproof salwar kameeze, and a head scarf.

i mean come on man.

and if i sound like speedy gonzales after one too many cups of coffee its not my fault, ive been under very very close parental supervision over the entire trip and i NEED a ciggie now

been there done that

2009-05-31T17:02:00.000-07:00

bob dylan plays in the background and his harmonica echoes as he tries to get the idea out.

all his life our insomniac wanted to find the person who fitted the bill, like the man about town in o henrys short story, he sought to find the man who'd been there and done that, a person who when he breathed his last realised he hadn't died at all but had attained the state he'd wanted his entire life, immortality, for someone who through his last breath, wheezing though it might have been, smiled as he nodded off into sleep and beyond.

he sought that person in every place he went, from his amorous overtures as an awkward teenager, striving to find love, torn betwen pablo nerudas lush verse, and marquez's choleraic eternal ideal and the bitter sweet truth of oscar wilde. from his visits to the women of the night, if only to find out whether love was lust or whether it were the other way around, and to the moment when he stared into a pair of perfect brown eyes and felt his soul sink into an oh so comfortable rest

he sought to find his happy being over swigs of bitter liquor hoping to stumble across him through a haze of hypnotic.

he sought him through the purple haze of green, through the senility of opium, submerged within the peyote cactus, and emerging through the frenzied pulse of amphetamines.

he wandered through urban jungles and dwindling forest cities, pausing every now and then to appreciate how mankind could pull himself in a downward spiral and then second guessing his past.

he waded through corporate whorehouses, through shrewd witted bankers, and in the near somnolent beauty that is the yuppie dream.

he looked here and there for his tambourine man, and sought others who shared his dream too. and finding none, he'd often grit his teeth as he went to sleep each night. discontent as he'd always been since that one fateful night.

he roamed aimlessly through the confusion of adolescence, through the aggression of youth and the empty deserted wilderness of age.

he knew not why he sought to meet the person. he knew not why the person beckoned to him in his sleep. why that person had become a misty echo over the remainder of his life.

discontent he remained, as he did always.

until one day, he realized he'd lost the game of chess with the reaper, that his time of equality had come, but just then. that very moment when he gritted his teeth because of his ignorance. he looked skyward, and reflected in the barely moving fan, solemnly moving as he lay on his deathbed, his love holding his hand, his friends by his side. choked tears everywhere. he saw himself, ravaged by age, his cheeks hollow, his mind wandering. and just as he'd begun to draw his final breath a chortle emerged from him.

and smiling, he sank through the curtain.

the fateful night, 50 years ago.

he wakes up in the middle of the night, after an entire day well wasted, muttering it to himself, he thought of something that sounded clever and kept muttering it under his breath. he sits down to type, and hopes the words flow as they used to whenever he felt this way, whenever he felt the germ of an idea beginning to sprout.

happiness is truly a life spent in discontent

of all the things ive ever written, this is the one im most unsure about.
side question though.

what would your epitaph be?? and how would you like to be interred.
me, id want to be buried, in my yard if i could afford it, with the title of this post written on my tombstone.

ive stolen the following idea from an old readers digest page, so bear with it.
and from my coffin, just where my mouth would be id want a pipe that opens into the ground, and on birthdays, special occasions, or even just randomly, id want anyone that morbidly bored with life to pour down a drink for me.

flowers are just way too passe

recycycle

2009-05-20T11:05:00.000-07:00

what im about to embark upon is a very very long post about practically nothing. so feel free to not pay attention.

I write this while having a typical muscat moment, by the wall on the sea. watching the aquamarine sea lash out in a controlled rage against the barnacled steps of the pier. Smoking a cigarette that im starting to like, then walking to the starbucks on the other side of the beach across swathes of people having that perfect evening in paradise, white couples having a walk as they watch their babies gambolling in front of them, the locals playing football in the evening on a working day. then a french pressed cup of single origin coffee as i watch the sun set into the sea, just as ive seen it submerge every single muscat trip ive had over the last couple of years. and it still brings upon me the same wondrous joy it did when i was a 10 year old kid learning to swim at the same beach.

Im having a moment, far from the maddening crowds and the all pervasive desire of every person in mumbai to stay afloat, to push themselves to rise above the surf to a place where people have surrendered heart mind and soul to the sea and the sun.

A Macondo, a place for marquez to revel in its magic surrealism, sheltered from the storm that seems to buffet the outside world, Where solitude doesnt seem like an abhorrence but a perfectly natural state of mind. A place not for bachhanalias but one where its perfectly allright to blow off the day to sit at the cafe by the sea, have a coffee or smoke your shisha and watch as people around you raise a silent toast to peace, quiet and to listening to your inner voice.

But I dont want to live here in tin the prime of my life, I possess too much ambition, theres too much chaos residing in my soul for me to be at rest for long in this city where peacefulness, nay, near somnolence seems to throb gently at its core. even so, you only have to go with the flow, to let yourself sit down and watch the clouds skate over the sky. to allow yourself to be an insignificant grain in the cosmos, and for once revel in the anonimity it gives you, rather than fight your way to exert your individuality.

leaving on a jet plane.

2009-05-12T21:01:00.000-07:00

all my bags are packed and im ready to go.

i love that song. Im leaving for muscat in about an hour and a half. and i sit here my mind blissfully empty not really knowing what i ought to be feeling right now.

I hate leaving mumbai. I hate knowing that i wont be able to see hear or feel lamour de ma vie for the next 2 month

on the brighter side of things, anisha sarma, and I have single handedly come up with an entirely new section of jokes so incredibly morbid that dead baby jokes seem decidedly sunny, the comatose chick in the bar jokes

walk on the wild side

2009-05-04T07:05:00.000-07:00

OK i really have been very very stupidly depressed during the sems, my feeble attempts at depth of thought are on display below.

But today the sems are over, ive spent an entire friggin year in college an entire year living completely and utterly alone, and granted i probably havent led the complete college experience yet, but insofar, ive had the fucking time of my life.

have a last practical exam totmorrow and then ladies and genteels, we shall partay until the world spins in the opposite direction.

or until we pass out dribbling on a couch.

sick and tired

2009-04-12T22:44:00.000-07:00

of mirthless laughter nad joyless fun.
of screams withheld and sleepless tupor,

of dreams during the day and tired emty sleep
of inspiration shielding itself from you.

of darkness where there ought to be none
of visions stomped upon
of idealism strangled
and the lost untrodden path beckoning through shimmering veils in the future

of missing hollow comfort
or thinking that life is empty without

of pseudo goth imagery and sardonic laughter from within
of life
the universe
and everything

we know not often what we want
and know even lesser about what is good for us
we succumb to empty shells of existence
and forget the joy of a summer day at the shore
we live
we learn
and yet we forget the next day
a spatial temporal state of perpetual amnesia

of waiting for the muses to descend on our minds
of living in hope for calliope to sing for us
and yet when the bachhae take control
we let ourselves slip
and believe that our muse is indulgence herself

of opinions
and disillusionment

idealism and the knights of the lost causes

2009-03-24T09:47:00.000-07:00

im a lost cause.

adopt me. someone please adopt me.

my worlds a swivelling black hole-like void gleaming despair into a seeemingly fathomless unforgiving universe. It echoes with the choked harsh whispers of causes just like me. once proud symbols of humanitarian progress, they lie discarded, shallow empty causes that run out of the steam as the only people espousing them bury their integrity under cynicism that trickles in like sand to bury their grave.

My world is one where there are a million sunrises each day, and a billion sunsets. A world where the tambourine men all pimps and vice houses. Where the lemming like minds of mortals jump to their own despair where twas ne'er anything to despair about.

Where every good deed is questioned, where a once noble cause could be the axis of evil. Where shallow thoughts overwhelm the conscious, tranquil petrol rainbows that every once in a while, shift to let through the west wind.

But one where every disease seems to have a cure, where there still are sunrises. where there are people whod look for the silver lining when multitudes see thunderstorms.

there still is the last gift in pandoras box. Hope.

the new old testament

2009-03-11T21:33:00.000-07:00

i love my college sometimes. especially during holi.

you see my college is filled to the brim with fundamentalists and people who judge a lot. and people who play songs that you wish yous never have to hear again after listening to them being played on loop at your parents parties as a kid when some not so smart gujju uncle plays englis music to display just how cool he is. songs that belong to this category include, and people are requested to complete this list.

the compiled works of the backstreet boys, the spice girls and gasp, the vengaboys.
coco jumbo
the peter andre song
whigfield
aqua
ricky martin

i need more, please help.

my point here is that despite all its flaws. my college rocks, simply because on holi, both our messes serve bhang.

not shitty tasting thandai served by the glass, but real natures goodness infused haywards 5000 ish stuff that gets you laughing for an hour at the very least.

9 glasses of that and i must admit, i was good and proper happy.

I dont understand the ultimate hypocrisy though, i mean they boycott people who've been known to smoke up the stuff, really boycott people, but mix it in milk, and tell them its religious and boom. there ya have it.

I mean occasionally and when im really stoned, i often wonder if our forefathers could see us, coz man they had fun. somehow somewhere in the middle, religion changed from one awesome party excuse into what is is today.

hence and avec drumroll, comes my latest, greatest idea ever on how to shut the fundamentalists up.

lets stage a mock discovery of some allegedly very sacred texts to be found in some very religious place thats got a complete list on how we should lead our lives. the religious way.

the salient features of the new codex should be:

mandatory ganja for all, not just holi and not just bhang.

women are supposed to wear whatever they want and be brought up completely liberated.

places of worship should be places of massive orgies like they used to be in the good old days.

in the risk of religious war, all parties on the verge should be made to sit down at a conference and then get seriously crosseyed. because it is absolutely gloriously impossible to want to kill someone when you see cellophane flowers and marshmallow people around them.

say that anyone who doesnt obey is disobeying he word of god and therefore is a heretic. lets see how they feel when they realise they aint going to heaven coz they didnt participate in the compulsory orgy last wednesday.

now listening to: truckin- the grateful dead

now reading:on the road-jack kerouac
the outsider-camus

e-why e som-e-things ar-e e-going e-to b-e th-e e-death of m-e.

2009-03-09T11:45:00.000-07:00

as i write this ive just gotten off the website and this is something that really really should be checked out. www.steamz.in

one of, as they put it themselves the finest and smallest e-cigarette companies in the world. ive heard of e-cigarettes, theyre really clever, really smart plastic tubes that shoot you silly with nicotine.

theyre apparently much healthier, are as their sales spiel puts it, meant for classy smokers who want to smoke but without the health risk, meant for the discerning man about town whos not afraid to say he cares for himself and the environment. and for non smokers too.

for the true connoisseurs of the finer things in life, a plastic tube that comes with a USB charger, and tiny cartridges that have to be loaded into the tube first, before switching on the uber cool dildo for women who care about elasticity. and then lying back and breathing out simulated smoke. while for real authenticity, a red LED is lit up making you look like rudolph with an agenda.

one quick teeny tiny request to steamz and other such obviously new age entrepreneurs. actually make that 2 requests.

a) please provide me a complete list of clientele whore willing to shell out a 1000 rupees to look like complete and utter morons. just so I can hunt them down, slap them a lot of times, and then laugh like mad in their face, while exhaling real red necked tobacco death vapours in their face. More importantly id like to actually find a smoker who cares about his health, the environment and non smokers too. I honestly dont think its even possible. its like an anderson that couldnt be used as a flotation device.

B> and more importantly, go away, die.

no really i sit here still astounded by how we've let things go too far. way too far. We should've woken up when people started having cybersex. it was getting freaky when second life started doing the rounds, but this is crossing the ruddy boundary.

Please dont put an e in front of my cigarette too. pretty please, Why dont you seem to understand that we know what were doing is going to kill us. that every time we light up, there is the greatest possibility in the world that nicole scherzinger wont make out with us, not because we look like what we do, but because we smell of tobacco, and thats the deal breaker.

A smoker, chain, heavy, mild, social(or gay) is an inherently self destructive being.
an obviously endangered species. isnt it about time we got our own picture draped around a naked deepika padukone while she begs the general public to save the smokers, because then your children wont have the opportunity to be self righteous around people.

But lets look at ye olde big picture here. the problem isnt an isolated one. Look im not denying that technology's awesome, and that the internet is the lifeblood of society today and a treasurehouse of pornography for repressed people everywhere, all very noble ideals, and very commendable too.

But e- somethings are seriously taking some of the best things in life, juicing them, making a seriously crappy substandard imitation of the aforementioned juice, then making a seriously crappy substandard version of that. and then going the nescafe way, dehydrating the distilled juice, making shitty granules of it, and then feeding it to the general public.

whew that felt good, i could do with a smoke.

ill give you other examples other than the much reviled e-cigarette, ever heard of prepackaged drinks???? some seriously vile stuff called toss, basically, vodka tonic, or whisky soda thats been precreated, and packaged in a snazzy looking can, for direct consumption. Why oh why would anyone want to deny themselves the pleasure of making their own drink???? or watching someone make it for you.

Im not saying we go amish on our arses, but come on; the actual thrill of the chase is a lot more fun that randomly going around chatrooms asking hairy old men their age sex and location, you know that nothing beats getting sloshed and knowing the next morning just how much ud downed instead of how many cans of vile catpiss youd gingerly lifted to your lips. you know that nescafe is an insult to coffee and your intelligence, that rock is way cooler than electronica!!!!!!!

and if someone makes an e-joint, i call dibs on the dudes ass.

my two cents for free

2009-02-06T06:09:00.000-08:00

I just realized im a very lazy blogger, and that what people say is true.

the more interesting your life is, the lesser time you have to blog.

but after certain very sexually repressed people are aiming to destroy something i haven't had the chance to completely enjoy yet .......again. i realized the obvious eternal truth to everything.

assuming that im obviously the single most important entity in my world. And on the basis of three equally earth shaking incidents, it is pretty easy for me to come to the conclusion,

the world and all its inhabitants are plotting against me,

you think that's funny.

well its not.

the world and all its inhabitant though. do.

exhibit a> i was not 18 years old in the middle of the summer of love, or anywhere even in the friggin vicinity of the summer of love. instead i turn 18 in a world where people need digital warmth and a blanket of financial security to keep them cozy at night

2> just when i come to terms with the fact that im going to quit random smoking and only smoke when im drinking, (an idea that is obviously not cooloured or prejudiced in any manner by my not so violent hatred of alcohol and my need to look for better reasons to explain to my aching head the next morning, why you just had to down those rum and cokes the night before) they, those self righteous pricks who couldnt just sit in a non smoking booth ban the marriage mde in heaven that is a cigarette and practically any good nourishing drink, be it coffee or kahlua.

3> and just when im coming to terms with the dearly lamented loss of my friday wodehouse-coffee-classic milds a group of people decide to go clubbing in mangalore. but because they gotten confused between the sadism club and a good old club, they beat the shit out of the women they find there. and then just so they dont look like a bunch of bleeding morons, and thereby lose their standing in the all star list and be made fun of at the annual crazed religious bachelor picnic. they say theyre trying to reinforce indian tradition. the same one that involves massive soma rasa induced orgies on airavata's (indras elephant) back.why dyou think he needed so many tusks(wink wink nudge nudge)?????

yes this is how intellectual masturbation reads like.

bloodhound gang........uh tss uh tiss uh tiss. download fellow perverted brethren. and shalaka. you wont regret it.

mr paradigm man

2009-01-11T01:33:00.001-08:00

and the flying spaghetti monster said,let there be paradigms and perceptions,

and it was screwed.

what if all that we take for granted, all our paradigms, our principles, our beliefs, everything, all are a result of one man, his finding a patch of mushrooms,and centuries of misguided evolution.

His name was Gary Oldman-Dickens and one day as he decided to wander off into the woods, thinking that there has to be a better way to get rid of the munchies than hunt woolly mammoths when your brain isn't really at an optimum. (which incidentaly leads us to the first recorded case of the munchies, and non conformism, but mostly the munchies) He sat down beside a mushroom patch,sampled some, let his brain travel into previously unknown sphres of thought and came upwith perhaps the sngle most sociopathic idea of all time. Gary was a bit of a genius and as is so commonly observed, he also possessed a more active than normal sadistic side.

Gary decided,then and there, that he being much earlier on in the chain of evolution, could create an entirely different set of ideas,of popularizing irrational concepts and by spreading the word to his dumber peers. Watch the action as centuries later the ideas he decided to implant germinate, and become part and parcel of humanity. the ultimate screw over job, as it were

he worked around the basic sins and the best things known then and developed a series of ideas, that messed up every single one of them.

for example, he decided that the females, who until then used to hunt the men since they were capable of multiple orgasms and therefore had a lot more fun in bed, would now be considered the weaker sex. and it would be upto the men, to do whatever possible to get them into bed (it is believed that this particular idea was proposed by the female who he then was being hunted by, which leads to the first known case of a mass reverse psychology, and also to the first known case of females using oral sex to get things done.)

to enable this to be done, he decided that every man , from then onwards would be incapable of a single logical thought when hes turned on. How this was done is still unknown, but it is believed to be akin to a pavlovian dog scenario and involved the then available version of jessica alba, and being dunked in cold water.

And worst of all, during a really bad hangover, post wild orgy he also decided to create a completely imaginary phenomenon which he termed as Lack Of Voluntary Enjoyment, (or L.O.V.E) wherein men and women would cease to go about having sex randomly, and believe that once in L.O.V.E, their only options were death.or the stone carvings that the dude called Porn O made in his free time.

he continued for decades, until finally he'ds succeeded in messing up all best things in life, creating mind numbingly evil ideas like the perfect body which must be strived for, which in turn led to dieting. He managed to make men everywhere believe that their sole aim in life was to have the best of these mostly useless things called gadgets.

Evil, evil stuff like high heels, weddings, showering,and male grooming were also invented.

he grew old and white bearded and got his steno to draw a picture of him, and initialed it himself, So that the baffled generations to come would know who screwed them over so incredibly.

and this is the true story of Gary Oldman Dickens,or G.O.D.

very very drunk

2008-12-31T14:52:00.000-08:00

its4 21 in the morning im back from a new years party that makess up for the ones ive missed over the last two years. nusrat fateh ali khan is singing piya re. and i swear to god that weird springy background is seriously buzzing me out. it was an unexpected rush. a sort of hedonistic display of mumbais richest and dumbest. very very good booze and a water bong.

im really not sure just how manyu typos this text has. \
i dont know why im blogging either unlike my other highs where ive beeen withdrawn and pensive, this was completely different. \
ok im out. missing someone desperately so.

binge

2008-12-13T10:31:00.000-08:00

arent i being cliched-ly monosyllabic with my blog titles?

im having my holy- shit-college-starts-next-week-and-i-havent-done-one-tenth-of-the things-id-planned-to-do-in-my-semester-break. moment

i still havent watched fear and loathing, or read ravan and eddie. or for that matter cuckold which i really have taken a liking to.

i have however had 4 separate madass binges this past week.
my liver is on the verge of giving notice and yesterday i had my first passout on the floor and wake up the next morning.

oh damn

tom waits is singing blue valentine.

tom waits and ray charles should come with a statutory warning, do NOT attempt to sing along. you'll only embarrass yourself.

i want to talk about the blues .

i honestly doubt if theres ever been a genre of music so incredibly touching. so incredibly personal.

jazz tends to be occasionally too intellectual, too misty for its own good. i know that by most standards im still a huge noob, but some ornette coleman songs are just plain weird. rock tends to be too impersonal at times. too shallow.

but you just have to listen to the king, or muddy waters, or buddy guy or the probably hundreds of saviors of soul, people who honestly make you grab your chest as their voices seem to shimmy down your throat like you're having your scotch with no water on a hot day.

as you can surmise
my brain isnt really fully functional right now
on account of me having given up the cigarettes.
boy this blows

drunk

2008-12-01T08:40:00.000-08:00

my exams are over today.

this post is bound to be very weird.

its been exactly one semester,

5 months of discovery, of relative boredom in freedom, of not having to answer to anyone,

of trying to get away from the paradigms i so self destructively built around myself to save me from the predatory beast that my own being is.

of rediscovering the joy of making new friends, of calling old ones up at random and swearing that next year, we WILL go to the northeast for a two month binge of awesome music and natures best.

of covering in the perineum of a city in fear, of realizing the futility of trying to fight the fear that a couple of men in guns and RDX instill in you.of being looked at suspiciously in trains and being randomely questioned by cops because you have a 2 week old goatee and dont like to shower.

fine i dont mind the latter.

im a botle of the monk down and im thinking this might just be the life, niladri kumar going insane on the zitar in the background, classic milds to mellow me down. old monk to remind me why people even drink thums up.

home where i want it to be.

pics of just how messy i am people, statutory warning though, the following images could be seriously very harmful for those who shower daily and could lead to fair to middling seizures in the ones with OCD.

pissed off

2008-11-26T16:48:00.000-08:00

imagine the above conundrum, very "if tree falls in empty forest" like as it were. imagine you been wanting to take a leak so badly and for so long that you're about to scream. in your head you're already fantasizing running to the cubicle and answering natures trunk call (hehe) to you. now imagine that at the very instant the bell rings and you're about to run to the golden cubicle, some terrorists ram their silly little arses right in the middle. and you know that there'e supposed to be a humongous part of you which should be putting up indignant status msgs on facebook and itinerant blogs about "how could they" But you see theres a bigger part of you which wants to pee.

or in my case party really really hard since my first semesters are over. a the point there will be a multitude of my readers who will look skyward and request whoever it is they believe in to send down thunderbolts and severe bouts of indigestion after terrible punjabi food. But seriously i will not be able to truly celebrate the end of my sems in the manner they so richly deserve.

because the last fucking paper's been postponed.
and every time ill make a stupid joke or attempt to laugh at something stupid, the empathetic people around me will shush me and whats worse the empathetic part of me will too.

god id like to get my hands on an SMG right now and show the terrorists what for.

im sorry people, owing to the discovery of some truly kickass special ops videos on his lan. the writer has now become a pseudo redneck who will go as farr as kissing palin's ass(in retrospect, reeally wouldnt mind) to get his hand on a HK 5.

there you see you didnt laugh, and its not that the above was a perfectly crrafted masterpiece of imagery, innuendo and self deprecation, but because you think im satan and should, lke very other blogger condemn the terrorist action strongly and offer a string of suggestions, which other societal bloggers will comment on and on and on.

did you ever, BTW seriously wonder why world leaders always "strongly condemn the terrorist attacks on your territory"i mean just for laughs couldnt one of them send a naughty get well soon card????

look im not being unemphatic here, im really not, it bleeds my heart out to see the city i love so intensely burn, to see a bunch of misinformed brainwashed individuals take advantage of the fact that our intelligence network is non existent??? couldnt they sort of pause the entire shebang about wanting to die a martyr, and end up in heaven with the 72 virgins or hell if they like it kinky?? I mean the world seems to be melting a little more every day, on every level, and what sucks the most is that our generations going to be the one actually licking up the mess???

I will be a typical blogger and offer my absolutely worthless two cents into this blizzard of advice the governments about to receive. we really ought to tak a leaf out of the israelis book, and seriously concentrate on building small highly efficient units specializing in counter terorism and hostage rescue.

im sorry, but watching the israeli defense forces really kick some PLO butt in old footage really got me thinking unidimensionally.

maybe ill pop a beer and go shoot up some gay men, o

Muscat

2008-10-20T22:57:00.001-07:00

Long time oui je sais, frequency will increase, laptop is in the process of being gotten.

Im in muscat right now, for those who have read my blog before this. Muscat is pseudo home for me, is say pseudo because as of now, i dont know what home is , and i adore that fact.

Met horsey again a coupla days ago, felt amazing, best friends do have that effect on you, of just perfect comfort. will have a beach coffee tomorrow so in all probability the next post will be jampacked with joie de vivre.

Ive finally realized ive outgrown this place. that the times ive had here with my friends are just daguerreotypes etched on the surface of my mind, that its all actually changed for once and for all.

But muscat is muscat, boring as it may be. its still my macondo, the place so untouched that at times the sky seems to swallow the earth. The place where i pay one third the bombay price and have a shisha atleast thrice as good.

ah shisha z and i died and went to shisha heaven yesterday, hakawati, an innocuous basement shisha parlour that the gods have preserved, and of course, waleed the madass waiter there who really doesnt like mallus.

santhara

2008-09-25T12:51:00.000-07:00

Mrs shah had the saddest smile he'd ever seen, he was all of 7, and lived with his grandparents on the top floor, . He had no siblings, and his parents were far away, so the colony took him under its wing, he was the cherub who the parsi aunties called to eat the sunday crab curry, the only one the gruff parsi uncle called by a petname and showed his air gun to. he was the one the mehta's took to the derasar, Always welcome wherever he went, he'd become used to being the centre of attention and he never realized just how important hed begun to become for so many people.

But Mrs shah on the second floor was an exception, He saw her everyday when he ran to the schoolbus, as she went off the the derasar, in spotless white. he saw her in the sultry summer evenings as she walked under the resplendent gulmohar and flame of the forests. she always called to him, held his face for a while, gave him a pat and a sweet.

Maybe he loved the sweets, maybe it was her almost smile that did the trick, but she became his favourite, and he went out of his way to meet her on the landing, or as she took her evening walk. This was when all that sadness was to him was cuts and scrapes and the occasional ear twisting.

But he saw her despair, and went so far as to put a hand upon her cheek one day, and ask her why she was always so gloomy, so aloof, why she was never there when the other society women sat together in the evenings and talk. Shed simply smiled then, and told him that she was happy whenever she talked to him for he reminded her of her own daughter. and then said that the day she’d feel sad, shed go on santhara,

She said it with a dreamlike smile on her face, the smile one has as the imagine an event they've always looked forward to. He didnt know what a santhara was then, and he wondered who her daughter was, and what had happened to her.

He left the colony, he was sad to do so, the kiddy sadness that has its cure in candy and brightly colored toys. But it was soon forgotten as he lost himself in academia, and in the company of friends.

He came back every summer, sometimes against his own wishes, he wished his parents would be world travellers, and their vacations be spent in exotic locales. He grow older, realised what homesickness was as he lay under the sheets at a friends house, never felt sad about india again. India became a sort of escape from reality for him, it became the reason for big shopping trips, for money given away for free, for books, and joy and entire days spent on a hammock hed put up in the grill outside his bedroom window.

It was the fuel for his aspirations.

Every year the colony changed The open spaces he’d gamboled in carefree abandon now seemed to get smaller even as he grew older, it became boring, he was no longer welcome everywhere, his childhood playmates disappeared within a maelstrom of hormones, and gender became a bone of contention.

He still saw her, never as often, and hid his nostalgic smile whenever he saw her in the evenings again, she had grown older too, but her expression was still the same. He tried drawing it one day, but gave up hope, her face had the serenity of a haiku, and her eyes seemed to drip with wistfulness, with tears that shed never shed.

She still called out to him when she saw him, but he was now reluctant, he was no longer little enough to be tempted by sweets, and her smile was no longer as fascinating.

His, on the other hand was forced.

If she noticed his deference she took it well, she understood him perfectly and added a tear for it to her already brimming eyes.

He grew older still, and came back to the colony after a very long time. he didnt see her then, shed slipped out of his memory into the grey region that we toss our most treasured memories in after we’ve ruminated them enough.

He’d received a major setback, and was rapidly spiraling downwards. He spent his days simply walking about his colony, and spending his days in the past.

He didnt see Mrs shah this time around,

Then one day as he lay on his couch watching something hed never wanted to see, she suddenly came back to him all at once, and he asked his grandmother about her,

His nani frowned for a bit and then told her that Mrs shah took upon the vow of santhara, a year ago, condemning herself to a slow death through starvation.

This shocked him to tears. He was startled himself just how hard hed taken it. Then, on seeing his grandmothers curious expression he asked her why Mrs shah chose to finish it all in so hard a manner.

his grandmother sat next to him and told him Mrs shahs tale. Chaitali(for that was her name) was the blunt end in a love triangle that had lasted for 30 odd years, shed realised that her husband, whom shed married without second thought, was desperately in love with another woman even before they'd gotten married, and saw fit to continue post marriage too.

for thirty years shed kept her lamp trimmed , awaiting the day her husband finally came home to her, when she too could have children of her own, when she too could experience to melancholy sadness of married life, of kids in private schools, of teenagers and their silences, of worrying when the clock goes past the curfew.

Her husband continued to abuse her, but not physically, the man came home everyday, and yet refused to acknowledge his legal better half's existence. He had a love child with the other woman. and they brought up the child using mrs shah's dowry; which was substantial.

He remembered her words, on how shed take santhara, the very day she felt true sadness. what could it have been, he pondered the event which made a woman, already immune to despair, feel sad. Even as he slowly began to extricate himself from his shroud of self pity.

He found out that day as he talked to another of his old friends. Her husbands love child, a child shed always treated as her own had gotten married, the same child who stood for everything that had made her life a veritable hell. who'd been brought up and educated and married with her money.

She wasn’t invited to the wedding.

Im Baaaaaccccckkkkkk

2008-09-12T12:47:00.000-07:00

well not really,

came home after almost a month, A lot has happened since then.

to summarize

I fell out of and then in infatuation.(and yes i will still refuse to write sop on my blog)

I am hopelessly infatuated with the above individual. I realized the sheer, obscenely gooey joy of spooning with someone.

I won Mr fresher at the college

I should stop starting sentences with I, sorta displays how hopelessly self centred I am.

I really couldnt care, i doubt there are still people reading.

I realized the joy of particle physics, of just sitting in the best library of its kind in india, and absorb the atmosphere, then go hog wild, tear books of shelves and just keep reading quantum mechanics, FOR FUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I can now derive schroedinger's with my eyes closed

I really dont think the above is going to do much for my sex life.

I've discovered the only way to live in peace is to live in a hostel, you never realize just how utterly messed up you are in real life until you witness a desk that has a strata of books and notes 5 inches thick.

And then you dont clean up the strata, you dump it on the adjacent army cot.

I love hostel life, its frigggin amazing, eat when you want, what you want, sleep, but only if you feel like it, come back shit drunk at 3 Am and write you'd been to the airport the entire time.

Make absolutely no efforts to disguise your morning wood, the adolescent males most embarassing morning moment, simply because everyone around you has one too.

But most of all its the bottom drop feeling of relative freedom of choice which i love, readers of my blog will know that all of last year i cried at the fact that i couldnt do the things i wanted to, read the books, listen to the music and all of that, Now i can, and more importantly i do!!!!

I honestly dont think any of you've ever read a post so completely brimming with sunny demeanour, i seriously fear i could end up losing my inherent sarcasm not to mention cynicism if i go on in like vein.

and so i desist,
we met at phillippi, if not sooner. (exams on monday)

Picture time

2008-08-15T10:55:00.000-07:00

By Far one of the best days of my life.

BOREDOM IN BOMBAY

Im bored and have some time on my hands so today ladies and laddas, im going to put sup some of my favourite pictures. yes yes mystique i know i stole the idea from you, but then again you've done it too!!!

dunno no seriously

2008-08-14T23:47:00.000-07:00

I remember reading a diary entry of mine 6 months ago, ranting about how i was so obscenely tired of doing nothing but studying and that the world seemed to be slipping away even as i speak, boy i miss those days. I came to college with a uniform idea in mind, at the end of the next 4 years, i shouldn't regret anything.

Fuck im tired, we have 8 hour workdays in college, and the fact that with the exception of maybe a couple of teachers, all the others are just so incredible bunking seems to be an excercise in stupidity. But im still loving it man.

I need a bleeding laptop already, i cant write down an entire week's thoughts in one blog session.
But im going to try anyway, One of the most common things ive heard over the last month,, is that i dont seem like the kind of guy.

You, the whole dont judge a book by its cover, apparently, i dont seem like the kind of guy who'd want to apporach a teacher for lessons in particle physics, i dont seem like the kind of guy whod have gotten an EML in the JEE's, i dont seem like the kind of guy whod study ahead and get a PhD.

I know the whole shebang about not listening to what people say, and alll of that, but for fucks sake, incessantly being told the above doesnt do a lot of good for a persons faith in himself you know.

Ah shit man, im so jealous of mystique right now, stupid female has time to ponder, i miss that, once this whole thing starts to slow down and i can for once sit down and have my meals, i hope to be able to ponder once again.

But here's something that made me fall off the couch yesterday, apparently women in Al-Qaeda controlled areas are not allowed anymore to buy cucumbers,carrots or any other suggestively shaped vegetables.

No comments, absolutely none at all.

College

2008-07-25T06:27:00.000-07:00

I write this with a 102 fever so readers (if there are any out there who still drop by occasionally) forgive me if my thought process is skewed.

That's retarded. My thought process is always skewed.

I honestly thought id be completely overwhelmed by the near tectonic shift of priorities, of living conditions and of the fact that i live in a concrete cubicle of sexual frustration and my class has people from every possible scenario, from the uber studious latur people, to the South Mumbaiites, who are surprisingly not as snobby as id thought they would be.

Ive had some pretty incredible experiences over the last week, listening to our HOD, a man who has 103 patents to his name standing on the bandra flyover in pissing rain where an umbrella seems as useless between two people as a.......... well fuck it completely useless, i have a fever, an insatiable urge to blog and absolutely not thinking straight.

But i sat back thinking a bit today, I havent written much or read a lot either. Have to start again.

In other assorted news i attended my first quiz in two years last sunday at the bombay quiz club. Now I love quizzing, it constitutes an essential part of my lifeblood and as such, the fact that i didnt get a measly buzzer round in my name over the last two years is perhaps my greatest regret. I love the buzz that a good quiz gives me. And as such, last sunday's was certainly incredible, while I managed maybe a few answers I just loved being back in the zone again.

On other more believable fronts, I have been called back for a repeat one on one counselling session with our college counselor. Yours truly was chosen from a lineup of amongst 16 notable individuals to be disturbed.

She needed 2 hours to reach that conclusion that I need help. I mean seriously!!!!!!

Am i going to have fun on the 5th of august, Im going to try to do an artemis Fowl, (If you didnt like the book, you do not possess an ounce of fun within you) Im going to read up my Jung, my freud AND Nietzsche

This oughta be fun, Dibs on whether i get recalled for being a sex maniac with incredible internal anguish who's nihilist enough to go on a shooting spree.

Have to go get my ruddy toe operated. It looks disgusting, broke the nail coz a scuba weight fell on it, forgot to get it looked over.

college

2008-07-12T11:58:00.000-07:00

tomorrow i shall move into my home for the next 4 years, shit scared, excited you know the whole shebang

no blogging for some time, ah screw it ill probably find a cyber cafe.

BORED!

2008-07-06T03:15:00.000-07:00

College starts on the 14th. Friends are mostly out of the ruddy city, no sleepovers allowed (I always thought sleepover is a very gay way of describing booze and nature's best parties where you sleep only because you are no longer capable of seeing straight).

OK so I'm too bored to do much, to caffeined to sleep and worst of all too excited about the next four years to read the Camus I managed to get in the house.

random question, what language do you dream in my readers, I really really wanna know.

I'm good, how about you then??

2008-07-05T10:15:00.001-07:00

When all at once something good your way comes, things do seem a lot better, older blog posts seem so redundant and you start to focus on things with greater meaning such as not laughing when you pass the lund and blockley store on esplanade building.

Ha ha there lived ( maybe still lives) a dude named Lund somewhere makes my day knowledge like this, just way too funny.

Now I know that the infinitely more mature than thou readers of mine will roll their mature, all judging eyes and write me off as just another juvenile hormonal teen with an absurdly retarded sense of humour. They ought to go right ahead.

Mostly coz they'd be right, come to think of it.

I'm feeling good today, just good. Watched the first hindi movie since dil chahta hai which i could watch forever, Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na. RDB and Taare are amazing, but too depressing. . I really really liked the movie. Possibly for the first time ever, I laughed along with the audience instead of at them or thinking about just how big a stinker review I could've written for it if I was the reviewer and not Khaled Ansari or Mayank Saxena.

I really dunno how Aamir manages to pull off movies which have pretty good, or as in this case, downright OK scripts and convert them into these amazing total entertainers. It had maybe a couple of parts it could've done without (the dream sequences and the dead kitten) But all in all it was incredibly fun PLUS it had Sohail and Arbaaz playing the roles of their lifetimes. I've never seen any member of that particular family seem so natural in any role, they were meant to be leather jocks with pea sized brains and good connections.

No let me correct that, they ARE leather jocks with pea sized brains and good connections.

Coming back to my now certain future. UICT.

I'm a little scared of the UICT FY hostel, The location of the place is friggin incredible, what with the area beign so cool and all, but the FY hostel really blows, and the absence of individual english toilets means that yours truly will have to give up his ancient habit of reading and contemplating the mysteries of life in general in the loo.

Now listening to- Tom Waits-cocaine blues

Now reading-Orhan Pamuk

assorted sounds of wild laughter

2008-07-03T01:40:00.000-07:00

I got into UICT.

HAHASHAHAHAHAHAh. does the johnny bravo

whoohooo

do i have to think up one very time"???

2008-07-01T11:16:00.000-07:00

Have been told, actually forced to quit job by famille, reason, a) i come home late because I dared meet old friends after. b) Im good indian kid, and journalism is no place for padhne wala bachha, even part time journalism. Tends to breed dangerous habits like belief in freedom of speech.(They actually said that, i shit you not).

I always thought i could do something like Sidin Vadukut does, do engg, then write for living, but yesterday, I was told by the fathership that I could never become a good journalist at all.

corrrect me if I'm wrong or horribly mistaken, whatever happened to the eons old concept of supporting your kids???

Ah enough bottled up self pity, I've felt like a complete sucker today. I dunno why I even put myself out there knowing that it is going to end in tears and that I will be left alone again.

randome

2008-06-28T20:24:00.000-07:00

open every single door of your perception. Breathe.
Gulp.
Open up, your consciousness needs to be explored. Visualize kaleidoscopic fractals, change them with the beat of the song.
reality is an illusion, temporal and spatial blurs. Drop OUT of your timepocket, drop into random introspections. Stop living, BE.

Im thinking of symmetry right now, as organic life forms, chirality is especailly important to us, (im not sure what would be general constitution of inorganic life forms, but given that they might contain higher order complex compunds, chirality will be important there too).
I realize that the last sentence is complete and utter based on nothing conjecture, but I really think its one of those "well Duh!" things.

I love chirality, the handedness of life. The fact that everything follows a general direction. The fact that everything has a mirror image, which while looking the same, is completely different, the essence of duality within, unsupported by symmetry.

But i wonder if there is a general anthropological instinct to restrict ourselves to simply two spheres of concurrent thought. Could it be within our gene structure, within the way we look at stability, or could it be a meme that we've been passed down after centuries of confused Aristotelian thought. I mean Jain logic has 7 alternatives to each situation,(i only know because of Suketu Mehta) And while i agree that Jains are generally very hungry(What? I'm stereotyping and making absurd generalizations??well awesome!!!!) and that this might colour their system of logic with a certain amount of bull, but shouldnt we consider that "there's got to be atleast 4 ways of looking at this!!", instead of the oft repeated, "theres got to be another", wouldnt that accelerate evolution?

Wouldn't weed accelerate evolution?? I forget, it already has.

self obssessed

2008-06-28T03:05:00.001-07:00

Just read through most of my blog to see how I've changed over the year.

Not very nice to know.

I hate feeling vulnerable. I hate needing to talk to someone, even if it is for a very short while.

I just realised that ever since the major screw up which we shall not talk about, ive been trying to hide from any introspection of any kind. Be it work or random booze parties.

Good think too, coz then we'd need an extra large obituary in the paper.

debauchery

2008-06-26T20:43:00.000-07:00

did you ever wonder why having a hangover makes you hate your boss, your best friend, your friends, and humanity in general? and if, like me you already do hate humanity, rest assured it intensifies the hate.

But im over the hangover, and well enough to write about the uber collosal spree ive been on for the last 2 days, the first day was a chilled out affair, you know just a shisha, a couple of rum and cokes, dokha joints and light conversation, peppered with impromptu bhangra sessions.

Now i digress, but i want to announce to the general population a couple of things, numero uno, im never drinking beer again, it would be an act of complete and utter masochism on my part , not to mention shallow machismo to even swallow another gulp of golden pisswater.i hate it, numero deux, i am now going to start a cult, the rum and coke foundation, to help young wannabe part time drinkers like me to inculcate the fine art of drinking old monk and coke, simply because itis the most awesome tasting thing in the world and because you have the greatest times of your life on r&c's.

numero trois, dokha, when z took out a bottle of this stuff and started rolling joints, i was prety sure it was the herbal supplement that mcartney and lennon never took. But on closer inspection twas not to be, its apparently a very very strong arabian tobacco(atleast, we dearly hope it is).

so anyways, the second night was a lot better, i never realized just how much I missed a good shisha, not to mention doing copious amounts of relatively good alcohol without worrying about the folks at home. And in the general spirit of things, i proceeded to get nice and happy indeed, not till OMG im going to throw up now, BUt just perfectly nice and happy.
lets look at my stats, atleast 20 ciggies, 4 r&c's , 3 scotchs, assorted z's cocktails. a chockolate cigar some very good music. 5 of my closest friends.

i wish i could've held on to the moment forever. coz as s said,its moments like these we live for.

and yes, my head hurts.

the economics of religion

2008-06-22T09:18:00.000-07:00

Now im an atheist, plain and simple. im not agnostic, and GOD forbid, not SPIRITUAL NOT RELIGIOUS.

ironic innit.

but every once in a while,. im forced to go on pilgrimages, for family, and crying moms and pissed off dads. its a pretty useful thing you know, going on these pilgrimages, it just serves the higher purpose of reinforcing my belief in atheism, and hating humanity in general.

i write this having just returned from a gujarat round trip, im gujju, and dont get me wrong im proud of it, but somehow, returning to me roots is never a joyous experience for me.It could be the fact that despite its good roads, and incredible infrastructure, our chief minister is a radical communal fiend. it could be the fact, that with maybe one exception, my relatives are incredibly boring.... but mostly i think its probably because no trip to gujarat is complete without a trip to nathdwara, the seat of the vaishnav religion.

im supposed to be a vaishnav, it implies that in addition to being completely accepting stories of a 13 year old boy krishna lifting mountains i also dress up idols of his swarup shrinathji; 5-6 times a day.

i hate, and i cannot stress this enough, i hate nathdwara, the place sickens me, it makes me want to dry retch with hate, its places like this which curdle the milk of human kindness. the place is a filthy succubus of religion and greed.

im sorry if my words sound poisonous, actually, im not. i mean them

the place is a picteresque semi slum, with cows everywhere, and dung in places you really dont want dung to be. lets not forget the fact that the unsuspecting visitor is swarmed with an entire swarm of beggars/touts/toysellers. and keep in mind that these arent the mumbai type beggars, who understand chhuta nahi hain, and in some cases even give you some money, these are scary ass rajasthani women who stalk you for hours on end.

its retarded, we paid a little bit more, and so our family had the honour of skipping the huge crowd and going straight for a private audience with the divine presence.

so its official people money is an essential part of piety, 200 rupees will get me to skip the queue, a gold chain gets me better prasad, so by that reasoning, the lunatic who shelled out 1.5 crore for sai babas solid gold statue must have a friggin mansion in pearly gate boulevard already.

But you know what, i still go to temples sometimes, with parental support and a generous bribe, because i hope that maybe, just maybe, as i stand there on the crest of the tidal wave of humanity, i experience a moment of true belief, you know, one of those born again moments, sadly, im normally flinching too much from seeing all that beautiful tax free money being thrown at the temples feet to have one of those epiphanies.

ive spent 4 days without music, but currently listening to bb king and buddy guy- i pity the fool.

cigarette please

we should also take note of this important fact, if individual is attempting to quit smoking, individual should not listen to all bill hicks audios on loop i mean seriously, it does do serious harm, not listening to bill hicks that is.

on other fronts, just been told, rather coldly that person i wanted to go on ahem ...photography tour of mumbai shall ditch me, and will see me only when and if fellow cockblock, wali is present.

I keep wondering how much of religion is god, and how much of god is religion??

happy sad, oh wait, happy, sad. .......not qute surei

2008-06-14T11:17:00.000-07:00

emotional roller coaster, feel like im connected to a rotating double iv of tranquilizers, and prozac.

got ear pierced, feel like stud

pun intended.

yesh people, freudian slip, is now cool.

retarded innit!!!!!!

monochromatic beauty

2008-06-12T11:37:00.000-07:00

the ccd on the linking road next to infinity,

im feeling what ive always wanted to feel, happy, a slowly, bubble of joyous euphoria that seems to swell from within me and grow as it reaches up to the sky.

i know what does the trick for me, its not shallow lust, not empty dreams, it isn't laughter or company.

its beauty

it took a completely incredible confluence of four things to get me to this stage, the cold academia of the UICT, the sheer magnificence of raghu rai's fluid snapshots, the artistry of henri cartier bresson's portraits and finally the crowning glory of the masterpiece that is neil gaimans sandman; the kindly ones.

i know what humility is today, i know what it feels like to be truly know, nay sense genius. raghu rai's collection, in particular the time exposure of the churchgate station brought me, and i mean this in the literal sense, to my knees (i sat down in the middle of landmark). He and bresson are people who've discovered what the infinite silence in chaos is, and put it in a picture.

im in a sublime state today, completely unaided by any other means. i walk on a low cushion of dreams and im impervious to everything around me.

first i walked through UICT's hollowed pathways, (for the commerce students, UICT's in is the temple of chemical science in india, the IIT's are barely there)

manipals all new age, glass and concrete, aesthetic, yes. but UICT is a solid mass of granite in the middle of mumbai, and exudes an intellectual strength by itself, the beautiful heady odour of old chem labs, of minds being formed, of BEAUTY in thought.

I dream again, even as morpheus dies in neil gaiman' sandman. Im scared to, i know im undeserving of this place, but yet i have the gall to seek entry to this place through a back door; the NRI quota, (fingers crossed people, every single one of them.)

im cocooned in my thoughts again, only now, i let them envelop me, instead of stopping them like i did for two years.

beauty is such a fickle thing, it exists within everything, and everything exists within beauty, waiting to be discovered, or destroyed.

how very existentialist of me.

beauty is in a bill hicks monologue, its a hendrix solo, a floyd lyric, a bhupen hazarika song, a ghulam ali ghazal; its a gaudi casa, a bresson portrait, its the black warmth of the 4 AM coffee, the touch of the person youve dreamed about; the lingering memory of their lips whose imprint shall never fully leave . its a feeling that makes you well up, but never quite so, its a matisse, a monet, a van der meer, a rachmaninoff, a paganini caprice, a hate, an anger, a hope.

we're all turtles in a giant terrarium; and we surface every once so often to breathe in beauty, in any way we can, in an art museum, at a rock concert, a laboratory, a library, a whorehouse, a city.

i see beauty everywhere now.

maybe i smoke because of the beauty that smoke is, an ethereal wisp, a fickle cloud of frustration that we send into the ether.

eating crow and taking names

2008-06-11T01:05:00.000-07:00

went to manipal avec famille, for counselling session, BEAUTIFUL place it is. humongous campus and all of that. good option considering its my only one.

i was the only one who applied for chemical engineering, among 1500 others, i do hope its not going to be another kafka-esque misadventure

Almost happy, yessiree.

lock up the back door and run for your lives, the man is back in town, so dont you mess around

2008-06-05T10:22:00.000-07:00

God bless you AC/DC patron saint of us destitute, god bless you hendrix, oh wait you are god,

Just realized just how seriously i tend to take myself at times. I honestly thought that id shrink into my nautilus shell of self pity, only to emerge after years and years of austerities.

Man do i overestimate myself.

I know i probably wont be as happy as i might have been in an NIT or summat like that, but hey im going to be with some of my oldest and best friends in a ruddy good campus with loadsa chicks around.

booze too

fuck self pity; the worlds messed up as it is, it could do with one less of us whiny little cynics.

im still not giving up on journo, im still going to try for a research based PG.

to think all it took, was the restaurant formerly known as Pop tates and which is now jugheads, which despite its cheesy name and artery cloggingly cheesy music being played inside(cecilia, mysterious girl; remember???? the scourge of our parents parties) still serves up a very very mean sizzler which might have completely blocked off a couple of my cardiac capillaries and a long island which im pretty sure has erased a lot of my childhood memories

im spending the next years like this, bag with camera and thought book omnipresent. my thoughts today:

cheesy music, deafening roar, a hundred nearly drunk individuals share their thoughts and hope no one else listens, long island(s), smoke, ersatz floating candles. Im in the domain of the new mumbai, . almost better; just waiting for her.

random booze thought:

i wonder why india's never had a full fledged rebel generation, the industrious 50's did give way to the 60's (yes i know im obsessed with them ) and it released all the angst, anger and sexual frustration that had been pent up inside the country . I think we're almost as dangerously near pent up as the 50s were, on the youth side of things, so why doesnt the old disgusting system which seems to resemble a mutant hydra, just implode amidst a glorious neo psychedelic renaissance???

yeah jimi, sing it you bastard; let me see you burn our troubles away like that strat of yours from monterey.

thats it people im officially OUT

2008-06-04T10:16:00.000-07:00

no im not being self deprecatory (persona), im not being too hard on myself eihter, but when you get an exam score for a paper you thought youd done well in that was 60 marks lower than your worst case expectation, theres something wrong.

i dont even know why im writing this down, i dont know

its a nice thing to say. somehow i hope that ill be able to look back and laugh about this someday, doesnt look like its in the offing though.

there isnt anger, i just find the whole thing ludicrous, as in why didnt i realize much, much earlier on that i obviously dont have the intellect to do engineering, instead i fed myself with hope; my teachers and others did the same, i was the smart kid. a little lazy, but brilliant, hah proved them wrong didnt i??

parents wont let me do BMM or journo i agree, not financially stable theyre all amazed by just how cold ive become, i completely agree, ive become cold, im not really a family kinda guy and my two years which were obviously the biggest mistake of my life have just put that final layer into transforming nto a cold heartless ungrateful SOB,

there mom you happy im still not going to go to the fucking temple with you, if you take me to our HOLY place i swear im going to fuck up your trip too. i dont care if your second cousin twice removed got a 30000 rupee a month job after his grad from nirma, i aint going there. so fuck you

made up my mind, almost, i did brillint in the manipal exam which id given for the fuck of it, so im going to mosey down there, and shut myself up completely, i mean it. coz i swear i aint doing a 9 to 5 EVER. im going to be a research student and get the fuck away from all these people whore laughing at me right now. earn a little and then get my journalism on the road. fuck you mom and dad. youve just lost your son.

they drop snide offers from time to time about actually letting me go ahead with it but then i dont have the guts sometimes. the entire indian society stereotype works both ways you know sure im sad that the women get the bad deal; what with the confinement and all of that , but the guys are expected to be responsible man. i dont know if it is my family or am i genetically programmed to be so narrow minded, am i just too scared?? dunno but i dont have any self confidence whatsoever.

read above thing i just realized something the worst thing people do to you is expect, the worst thing you can do to yourself is dream,. so im going to try my best not to.

the editore- lights (coz if fortune favours the brave, im as poor as they come.)

bittersweet symphony

2008-06-01T23:34:00.000-07:00

cliched oh so cliched, but true, desperately so.

last couple of days have been amongst the worst/best/ generally messed up days of my life,

Ooh im in a time warp, of sorts, HUGE battles at home, my fault for not studying hard enough, for wanting to get my ears and brow pierced, for me being 18 and realizing that sometimes families can bore you. fine im 17 but its a ruddy stupid thing you know; being 17. i mean being 18s cool, 16s amazing, but 17s a raw deal.

aargh all this sloth is taking its toll, i write much better in mumbai, gosh i miss that sewer.

gosh, i used the word gosh.

but seriously i cant explain what i feel like write now, actually, i can, its somewhat like listening to comfortably numb on loop, and then suddenly glug down a chugga of mad dog beer. a tad disoriented, very hazy.

went diving off fahl island, and this keeps running through my head, that what we call life isnt actually life at all, but a patchwork quilt of moments, frozen in time, stolen from the mundaneness of our normal day to days. anything, be it forbidden sex, hallucinations, in my case, diving, laugh sessions, coffee cigarettes and PG wodehouse.

didnt get into the JEE's too, id expected it, as ive said beforehand, but somehow the realization that my dream had been shattered was like someone chucked a barrel of cold water laced with vodka in my face, (i assure you i have not been re-reading shantaram, the overuse of metaphors is simply coincidence)

Ive never felt so vulnerable, so weak, so completely defeated, but and this is important, i am lucky enough to be in muscat, where i can contemplate, run away, just simply let go, and more importantly where i have my friends,

i missed this ragtag bunch of people, weve been held together by bonds of libido, sports, and in most cases the fact that individuals are a little south of sanity.

im going to miss these people man, they made sure that for that one day there were no nerd jokes;

that there was laughter, and a lot of it but none of it targeted towards me, and most importantly they took me for a 2.30 am ride in a shopping cart through most of the CBD.

ah booze, laughter and good company, time hasnt got a patch on them in terms of healing. i swear id lose it completely if i were in mumbai, going back today though, dont really know how much im going to miss this place, or whether id miss it at all, closest place to home it is for me, but uve got to stop liking a place where everything you do reminds you of everything you did.

onwards then people to mumbai, and then hopefully to NIT and if not that, then a BMM or a degree in journalism.

huge battles on the home front about that at the present moment,shall keep you updated.

fuck

2008-05-24T02:31:00.000-07:00

angst spew time

NTU fucked me over, didnt get in. even though i thought the entrance had gone pertty ok.

friend did get in.

am i happy for him, fuck no, its a very pussied up thing to say to someone coz it just has to be a the worlds biggest lie, you cant actualy be happy for someone mainly coz its stupid and more importantly youre being a selfish prick by taking away the joy that he gets when he sees your envy.

am i depressed,
yep

obvious isnt it, heard about rejection from sweet letter they sent me yesterday, awww wasnt that nice of them???

yesterdays playlist, lamb of god, bodom, chimaira, foo fighters(pretender) pantera, dimmu borgir, gorgoroth,

pissed off oh so pissed of, have snapped at parents, a lot, watched hours of tv, tried my best to stop the thoughts in my head that make me want to experiment with self mutilation something ive always said id never do.

im soo friggin tired.

all my life ive been good boy,. or remotely goo boy, or even bad boy but padhne wala bachha , scholar even sometimes,

worst thing people can do to you is expect, fuck them.

and fuck you too; voice in my head thats currently telling me im a waste of human protoplasm

fuck you muscat where i cant get really really boozed up so i forget, fuck you person who ive bared my soul to and not have anything reciprocated, fuck you everyone who thinks im something im not, fuck me for going to india and studying hard only to fuck up my last month there.

FUCK YOU.

i want to go away, i want to smoke but the ciggies here suck, i want to go to my remotely happy place only i dont even know what it is anymore,

i cant even friggin read for gods sake, oh haha pseudo intellectual cant even read war and peace, doesnt want to touch the brothers karamazov. fuck goa for being a ruddy pothouse, fuck muscat for being as glorified retirement home, fuck bombay for not being mumbai; for being an eulogy to my dream; for being a fucking cesspit of my thoughts,

i want to be me, only that in itself is a friggin impossiblity coz i dont even know what that implies anymore.

the scream from great gig in the sky echoes in my head as i write, im losing myself to edvard munchs painting. i wish i was in a monet to be able to see the world in glorious impressions, coz thats what life should be, i wish life was a place where you could see people in impressions and to see them as what thy are, and not actually what they seem to be. a blur .

i wish i could be in the 60s, and to see my spirit take flight.

inside the saphire

2008-05-23T02:28:00.000-07:00

im going to steal from cousteau because there isnt any other way to describe the feeling of being in suspended animation under the water's surface, to quote" it was like i was suspended in the heart of a giant blue saphire." agreed it was my first scuba class and i was in a hotel pool,(we go diving off the damaniyat islands tomorrow) but even so i think that the fact that the air does run out is a very very good thing, becasue i assure you, there would be no other force on earth capable of making m come out of the water.

the silence inside is not eerie, but this incredible feeling of being on a completely different planet altogether, cant wait for tomorrow.

saw indiana jones yesterday, i dunno, maybe ive grown and become(shudder) a tad mature, but the movie was very forgettable, i know that we have to be prepared to make allowances for the sake of indiana jones, but even so, this one stretched it a wee bit too far. a good distraction maybe, but noting out of the ordinary, and certainly not in the league of the raiders of the lost ark or the temple of doom.

the pursuit of happyness

2008-05-21T21:10:00.000-07:00

thats right
i havent been able to blog for a very large number of reasons, too sleepy, too busy, to happy, too sad, but mainly coz i managed to forget my gmail ID.(nope not kidding at all)

Muscat vacation

ive dreamed of this for a very long time now, and so far its been pretty durn good.

muscat enveloped me with nostalgia the moment i set foot on her. im still reeling a bit from the haze that the heat causes here, saps you of so much. But she stands a tad still in time, mind you not stagnating, but as if she has her own different timepocket, and couldnt care less what the world seems to do.

Best hing about this place is th fact that within every ten metres, you can find that silent heaven of self contemplation that ud been searching vainly for two years in mumbai, and havent even come come close to finding. not that with my limited grey matter theres a lot to contemplate, but een s ite nice to find silence occasionally.

met my best friend(s), all of my pastfriends from the 7 years that i spent in the nearest thing to moncada that the world will ever know. but we've changed now, were world weary, hairy, thinner, fatter, louder, weirder et al.

i hate walking down memory lane you know, you always get this weird feeling that you've been there before.

because thats what it is, my vacation here, my chance to seep in nostalgia, to remember old laughs, and walk down old paths,

wet to my old school. felt myself surrounded in the enormous sanctum of my past, my footsteps echoing back to me as memories.

but thats enough sleep deprived raving out of me,

some very very very very good things happened over the past coupla days,

met her, my best frend, confidant, soulmate to nearly go overboard, spent hours on the beach, walking , coffee, the sea air and the salty spray, stupid thing it is, that when im talking to her,m the world seems to shrink. i kept wanting to tell the bastard who controls the hourglasses to please, just once let the sand trickle down slowly as can be, becasue i want these moments to never end.

best hugs in the world she gives me, fits into me arms like the last piece in the jigsaw.

I dont even know what it is, but i cant seem to friggin stop wanting to talk, see or think about her. Gotta be careful or ill end up being a creepy one way romantic, as opposed to fat one way romantic.

but well stay best friends and thats it, her fault people, not mine, and i probably wont ever be able to get over her. thing is, i dont really want to.

counted 6 horrendous cliches above, forgive me O henry.

man utd won!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

going SCUBA next week. cant wait.

met my oldest best friend too, hes changed nearly as much as me, and for the better too, everytime i meet him, i still cant help wondering how two people so radically different ever became such good friends, i mean, hes the damon to my pythias. but hes the tall, slim, athlete, good boy, teetotaller, committed, not horny at all, who's never gotten beyond harry potter in books and listens to songs from race. and im the short, stocky(oh screw you), more academic, smoker, drinker, dilettante writer, as sexed up and commitment phobic as can be.

ive got so much to write, and im going to, but im having a slight attack of the tristesse from my meeting with her. but a lot more coming up people.

reading: just finished madame bovary, trying to complete triplet of terry prachetts hogfather, lolita and samit basu

high on the highway.

2008-05-09T22:18:00.000-07:00

special request for title.

quarters of old monk and white mischief- rs 200
ciggies
ipod
car stereo adaptor
accommodating rickshaw walla

audio recordings of you and friend wailing she will be loved, breathe, highway to hell, and chopsuey, completely and utterly priceless.

ah yes ladies and gentlemen, n and yours truly, post mhtcet, experienced the sheer joy of good music, relative speed, and booze. all this in the public eye and in a very open vehicle.

king of the world we were, lords and rulers of the highway from parle to borivali.

n was depressed, coz mhtcet went not so well, i was about to break my vow of a 6 month long period of absistence from all materials known to make people almost throw plastic bottles at cops
during the climax of another brick in the wall.

end result, me sitting at my favourite cafe, holding my throbbing head, and trying my best to revive my senses with the aid of a lot of coffee.

now back to a semblance of sobriety i went to watch speed racer yesterday.

now let me put it to you this way, the wachowski brothers were people who defined cool with black on black, shades and monosyllables, but they did go overboard with the last two matrix movies, and completely messed up the finale, by being too serious.

so what do two people , who've been accused of making movies too serious for their own good do???

they go speed racer.

speed racer, for the poor uninformed masses, was a legendary anime, and used to be one of my very very favourite toons as a kid.

now with most of hollywood comic book or anime adaptations, they remove all elements of kitsch , of relative coolness, they remove all of the parts of comic books that made them guilty pleasures, case in point, the x men, no wolverine in yellow spandex, hairy as can be. i could go on.

but the wachowski's, stick true. everything is just as I thought it would be when i ever tried imagining it, speed with the white helmet and red scarf, trixie in glow in the dark colours, chim chim , sparky, pops, everything!

but theyve upgraded the racing scenes, its no longer simple boring one dimensional box cars going 1 g turns, their racing is 750kmph insane cars doing loop the loops, skinning the velodrome, flying and basically doing everything that would make your insides, even if you hated the earlier parts of the movie, move with the car, an automobile flea circus, as it were.

story is simple, talented youngster in racing family faces evil corporation with demented corporate head,wins big race, nearly finds long lost brother, and gets the girl. the whole megillah. lots of sob not inducing soppy father son, brother brother mother son moments, all star cast, emile hirsch, whos phenomenally talnted(into the wild), cristina ricci(yummy) susan sarandon, who seems a little bit uncomfortable, and john goodman as big pops. no great acting here. just , and ive said this ad nauseum, a whole lot of fun.

its like listening to AC/DC on loop. you know, agreed theyre all phenomenal, but at the end of the day, AC/DC is pure unadulterated fun, no strings attached.

but its all treated right, and the sfx are brilliant. dont get me wrong, theyre not very realistic, not very real life, and certainly not believable, like the matrix, but you always get the feeling, that its done intentionally.

I sort of knew what to expect from the lsd'd beginning itself, colour, a lot of colour, none of the drab monotony of their early ouvre, theyve really tanked into surreal this time around, lights, sparks, sounds, monkey jokes, squirmy kids.

i loved it.

statutory warning, DO not watch the movie if you cant appreciate deliberate humour, or an inside joke, the wachowskis are laughing at themselves throughout, and if you cant appreciate that dont watch it.

have i forgotten to cry??

2008-05-02T22:35:00.000-07:00

Had a convo with z yesterday, realized the same,

hurts painfully, so its got to be true.

ah fuck, maybe i have, .

ive been so ruddy self centered and hypocritical that my beings lost.

times almost stopped for me you know, it moves in molasses time, like im in the persistence of memory,.

disappointment at not being successful, joy at not failing completely, depression when I see myself in the mirror, bloated, gaunt and world weary, they all swirl like iridescent petrol rainbows on my muddled pool of thought.

there have been several instances over the past month, when ive looked at myself in the mirror for near eternity, if only to truly comprehend what my raison d'etre is .

its a terrible thing, this reason for ones living, melts like a will o' the wisp when you look for it, looms like a giant cloud on your senses when you dont.

je suis fatigue, i am bored.

even instances of white hot rebellion, of moments stolen from drudgery, of fleeting happiness, of movies seen but scarcely watched, of songs heard but not listened to, of pleasures felt but not experienced, mindless orgies with the bacchae,

they've all melted into one gigantic shroud of monotonicity.

its almost as if the plate glass window of fears, which i used to control my thoughts from floating away has been rendered opaque by the dull patina of weariness.

but theres still a dull ache within me, a small pinprick of light in the gloom, and im grateful for it,

its the same ache which made icarus follow his father on wax wings to escape from his shackles and experience the joy of pure flight, even if it was not long to last.

its wanderlust, couple with the strange manic joy i find within me when i realize that my new life begins next week. just 10 more days, and shrug off this traveler's cloak of self pity, indulgence and thoughts woven in solitude, and face life in glorious technicolour, hyper realistic as it were.

to listen to Mr Tambourine man and actually experience the lyrics, to close my eyes and listen to vivaldi's spring, to hendrix, to write down the stories that i've formed in my head over the years, to take the photographs i couldnt for lack of time,

to stand on the beach with someone i love, and watch the sunrise as it overwhelms me with joie de vivre, to feel the sea cleanse my spirit, and feel my thoughts fall like detritus on the sea bed, to be replaced by the ones ive craved to think.

along with the millions around the world who're doing the same this very instant.

4 gone and 3 to go

2008-04-27T09:46:00.000-07:00

AIEEE over .

yes due to the already much stated and bitched about fact that im giving enough entrances exams and effectively using enough paper to reincarnate 1/3rds of manu national park, i dont have much else going on in my spartan existence.

but my fuckin lord this was a shitty paper to give, for those uninformed about how the CBSE selects locations and schools for the exams, heres a simple algo,

1>take down name of person
2>roll the name around your tongue
3>if subconscious approves, then give individual centre within 15 kilometres of residence,
4>if neutral ,then give indi centre within 40 km of res.
5>if hated by sub, then throw him the whammy, port blair, bhopal, surat, i could go on

i aint kiddin people, welcome to the circus thatd make old PT barnum choke, the indian education system. the day before i wrote this extremely idealistic article that i may send to the paper, where i compare kota to aushwitz, its sorta fun.

my name fortunately was in the neutrals, so all i had to do was toddle down to KHARGHAR in navi mumbai, approx 2 hours from my place, the exam was even weirder, first they get you to remove your bags outside the school itself, then they give you a patdown, but only if you possess a penis, finally they ask you to take of your watches if theyre digital , along with your pencil boxes, and other paraphernalia,

all this in order to prevent cheating of course, mighty impressed i must say insofar,

but then they put two people solving a very important multiple choice paper right next to each other on the exact same bench that was designed for 7th graders. am I the only one seeing the fucking irony here???

follow me here, take away all hopes of external help , but then put two kids so close to each other that one can actually count the laugh lines on his partners forehead as he gleefully copies your answers.

no shit genius, unfortunately my com padre was the extremely happy go lucky sort, and so my shot at copying was out.

but its over, lets move on to better things, went to inorbit today, watched the darjeeling limited,

loved it.

honestly i think i need to watch tashan or race or some other gimmicky brown thrash movie just to see if i still have my powers of criticism,

its incredibly fun, the movie, touching without being a sob story, its got this uber cool indie, almost whacky ring to it, quirky, thats it, its quirky.funny without being gross, and more importantly, its got adrien brody in it, the actor who made me start watching good movies, read ones with storylines, after the pianist. it also has one very very hot indian chick, who smokes and has crazy sex. and im very sorry, but that is still a huge turn on for me. the smoking that is.

dammit i lost my thread. i had something pseudo specific to write about, i forget,

going to muscat on the 13th next month, going to lose all my excess weight, go fishing for hours on end, go trail running in the hills, and most importantly get the gift ive been asking for since i read my first natgeo with david doubilet in the barrier reef. im taking a PADI open water SCUBA diving course.

whoohoo

i lovehate the beatles for their tunes you know, just when you think you're going to get the lucy in the sky tune out of your headspace, in my life, takes over. cant stop humming it

currently re reading marquez

i started reading 100 years when i was in 10th, what with all the hullabaloo about it. and to this day i thank that part of me which is constantly trying to read books based on reputation.

ah macondo

4 times ive read the book, four times ive lost myself within the steamy abyss of the village confined to a hundred years of solitude, four times ive been speechless after i read his descriptions.

4 times ive wished i knew spanish if only to truly appreciate the book.

ooh just discovered tom waits
oh fuck i need a ciggy to truly appreciate this.

hortons a hoot

2008-04-21T07:16:00.000-07:00

I love cartoons films, almost any kind, and i have no reason to believe that there has ever been a childrens writer on par with Dr Seuss, yes we will get all nostalgic and rheumy eyed about enid blyton and stifle laughs when we reread sentenced such as dick went inside fanny's house, but face facts, Dr Seuss, while not so popular in india, SHOULD be required reading for most primary school kids.

having said that i felt that the first Dr seuss movie. the cat in the hat, was near disaster, somehow dakota(80 year old, overtly histrionic as shes is) fanning and good old austin powers sharing screen space was perhaps a little too much.

but horton hears a who, is an achievement. something i never thought id say about a jim carrey movie (not including the truman show and eternal sunshine ). i just love it, Dr seuss's immortal rhymes resound throughout the movie, listening to them is like reading le petit prince. obscenely simple, incredibly charming, and most important, staggeringly true.

i couldnt find a single flaw throughout the movie, perhaps im biased because the story was one i hadnt read before and is a gem, teaching but not preaching, the Dr seuss way, about tolerance, about standing up to the man, or in this case, kangaroo, and about letting children use their imagination, something which is such a horrendous cliche, but surprisingly is considered way too radical for the indian education system.

du dum du dum

2008-04-13T11:21:00.000-07:00

JEEs were today
chem was so-so physics fine, and math screwed up, Might just get in the thousands, will find out tomorrow, right now theres this incredible euphoria within me, i know i might not get in, but you know what, it doesnt matter,

not sour grapes, but i honestly think it doesnt, id much rather go to BITS goa, or singapore,

im so happy right now, it must be how that poor bastard atlas felt when hercules fucked around with him. a HUGE weight off me shoulders thank you very much.

after paper, went binged on a wodehouse, had the happiest smoke since churchill broke open his havanas after hitler shot himself.

i still cant stop smiling, this is soo good.

the fork in the road

2008-04-10T20:10:00.000-07:00

the edge of the diving board

2008-04-08T21:07:00.000-07:00

oh FUCK.

JEE on the 13th ,NTU exams for singapore in bangalore on the 15th 16th, vellore on the 19th, AIEEE on the 27th, ENAT on the 29th, MHTCET on the 8th and BITSAT on the 13th.

i repeat,
OH FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK v FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKFUCKFUCK

im going to be dribbling out the sides of my mouth on the 13th next month, already i catch myself looking into blank space devoid of thought, something which has NEVER happened before,

i cant even laugh properly right now, I make a sound thats something between a titter, and a weenie little smirk.

i mean I have a failsafe to laugh, i just take out my calculator, type in 5318008 (boobies)and turn it over,
even thats not working.

what has the system done to me!!!!

ah fuck, im just too fuckin scared to think right now, i might get into this awesome program at singapore because of my kickass essay on evolution, my favourite theory, complete with my derivation of the meme theory.

oh screw you, if anyone needs an ego boost right now its me.

need a smoke oh so bad. every single second of every single day.

good riddance

2008-03-23T00:36:00.000-07:00

Arthur clarke died this week.

but he already knew that.

modi and I went for a post final board paper celebratory tryst with lung disease, and somehow dear arthur came up.

firstly, ive never like science fiction, fine i will admit to a jules verne phase, but that was because he was jules verne.

but then came the real pains, clarke and asimov. two enlightened people who were both modern day soothsayers. the gods of the geeks, the deities of the undead who roam around in thick soda lenses with inhalers dangling from their sides. Jackass went around making robot laws for fucks sake.

detest them.

but seriously, can you imagine just how badly they were beaten up in the playground, theyd come to school, and the conversations with the playground bully would be something like this

oy clark, cmere!

(reedy voice), yes??

know whats gonna happen to you??

(enlightened resigned reedy voice) yes

and thus the wedgie, the nookie and other forms of childhood trauma were invented.

they wouldnt have gotten lucky till they were 40, but then again, THEY KNEW IT.

vortex

2008-03-17T03:22:00.000-07:00

im at the centre of one. a big giant swirling vortex. ive gone with the flow, put up little resistance, been swept by the sheer power of the fluid of ambition that joins you, me and almost everyone else.

ive told myself that i can break free when i get my degrees, that i can take my year off and go to the andamans as soon as im freudian slip, Btech, Mtech and maybe Phd. that i can write whenever i want to once the 13th of may is gone. that i will get that piercing, attend that photography course, read all the russians (pushkin, tolstoy doystoevsky and gogol) once i give the 8 exams that im supposed to give next month.

its hard, and all i feel right now is tired, my spirit ebbs, my ego needs a boost, i need my friends, my booze, the hallucinogens.

I have computer science tomorrow, the one subject which i detest from the very depths of my being. i dont like it. you do?? well good for you. id much rather dangle stark naked from a monofilament wire on the the mumbai pune expressway and be hit by traffic while being force fed excerpts from religious texts than study C++ or microprocessors. but they didnt give me the option.

i dont know what scares me more, the thought that after all this i might not get into UICT, the IITs, BITS or the NUS or that because of it all i lose my passion for science.

yesterday i was taken to a satsang. for the uninformed or very lucky a swadhyay or a satsang is a meeting of people with no sense of humour, and no lives either, who get together and listen to someones interpretation of the gita for th 123212434228290th time.

this particular one is headed my a Ma. A woman who you cant help but respect, after her guru died she took upon a vow of silence and eats a little once every week. now i find that just plain vanilla stupid. i mean why would anyone want to inflict that upon themselves??But she has this aura about her that you have to respect.dunno. the daft thing is that she wastes half her time writing down what she wants to do on a slate and always needs a person to help her communicate. even worse are her followers, who take it upon themselves to complicate gujarati to the highest extent, and repeat whatever shes said three-four times in a row. fucked up or what??

im supposed to be inspired by it, apparently her discipline is supposed to get me to quit smoking, read the gita and have sex once a year, but only if its a full moon.

not really, the only reason i study is so that i can afford to live the life ive wanted to and do what i love, complete with lustful wenches , the bugatti veyron 16/4 and the harley V-Rod.

MUCH more later, i dont have much time right now, but i want to write a lot. just you wait,

Just read:the sandman for the 5th time. neil gaiman . nuff said

screw you Mr Branson

2008-03-07T22:38:00.000-08:00

ah fuck. i just read my last post. im such a wuss. sometimes its incredible.

im much better now, talked to an old friend. and the fact that the boards are so fuckin easy its incredible.

im dead serious man. admittedly i made my usual errors in judgement and am losing a couple of marks here and there, but theyre still shit easy and its not because i have an enlarged frontal lobe.
they just are.

but therein lies the rub. theyre so easy that its boring to study for them . i might bitch about how much the pressure of the jee is but honestly i miss physics . just sitting up and thinking about how to solve the abysmal resistance loop in resnick halliday was a lot of fun. cant wait to get back to the stuff.

reads above lines.
yes im a little geeky. no im not feeling very literary
the next person who calls me a nerd gets his arse whopped.

im feeling very , as wali would put it. arty farty of late. as a general rule i cant draw to save my life. and my parents took my paintbrushes away when they realized the sables now resembled the outer coat of the three toed sloth. but i love art, always have , not as a rule the renaissance because i think they were just pretty photographs, but impressionism is my flavour of the week.

also boning up on my surrealists and dadaists. i particularly like the latter.

but my current favourite artist is samir mondal. exquisite. no two ways about it. watercolor has always been underrated, but this man is simply incredible.

but what i want to talk about is the reason for my sudden mood reversal. the omnipotent idiot box. and the impending victorias secret fashion show.

as such im a proud tribe member of the men of men. we belong to the category of people whose masculinity was never in doubt. we long long ago discarded the anglo saxon , starched underwear customs of not gawping at the midday mate, or not staring at two very determined individuals engrossed in sublime coochie coo at the bandra seaface, we own great big stacks of porn, and the thought of molten wax anywhere near us makes us ~~want to run crying to our mommies~~ cringe at the loss of manhood. But nothing is more masculine than completely losing all faculties of speech, thought or rationale when the angels take over.

sniff, even thinking about it makes me choke up. i have the exams right now but even so, the when i see trailers of the broadcast, im sorry kinetic theory of gases, but the evil forces of leisure just played their trump card. and i for one am too zonked to care.

zonked, you ask?? well thats just an indication of how close my head comes to exploding every single time it comes on.

Its barbaric, nay cruel, to expose woefully out of shape guys who might end up in engineering colleges and live a life of near celibacy to women to hot that they sometimes fear even fantasizing about them, wearing clothes that the women that the abovementioned might end up will, will never wear.

savage.

but i write this to express my views against one mr richard branson,

stop it.

thats right, stop it.

we know you're rich, own necker island, women find you attractive, own the plane that transports the angels and go on incredible adventures. But stop flaunting it you son of a bitch.
why cant you be like all the other rich people, either bitch ugly and flaunting without a care in the world or just very rich and happily married.

No you just have to keep groping the angels on TV, just have to admit that you left school because it was dull and have experimented with LSD.

fuck you.

BOAAAAAAARRRRRRDDDDDD

2008-03-05T09:36:00.000-08:00

pun.

but seriously. the maharashtra state boards. not really a very good way to map intellectual progress. not that my level should be measured. my family isnt on speaking terms with me and for a very good reason. in my hurry to get out of college on the very last day, i misread the exam centre roll no partitions, and on the day of the first board exam i landed up a the wrong centre, a hectic rickshaw search a very scary 15 minutes looking for my goddamn centre and the feelin i always get when i feast my eyes on a board english paper. anger.

yeah i wouldnt really blame my mom for making me go to the temple and throw coconuts at deities despite repeatd protests that it was actually a good rickshaw driver who rescued my life from becoming a complete disaster.

not that it isnt one. i havent had much tie over the last coupla weeks. and i most definitely will not for the next month until 13th may when i shall ensure that i will get arrested.

im trying very very hard to let my retarded humour cover up the turmoil within , it isnt helping. so im going to let it rip.

i screwed up. im if you havent guessed already very very neurotic, and very very insecure, now while the combination sounds bad, trust me its worse.i also have a tendency to ask stupid questions . over the last year i found a friend where i thought there was just camaraderie. i found someone i could trust, and even better someone who trusted me, someone who could make my day by just a missed call, or a verbal hug.

i fell for her. not reciprocated, but im still crazy about her. hormones?? dilute feminine contact for 6 months?? me being me?? dunno.

very very hard.

and i screwed it up by getting her into some pretty serious trouble.

gah

im never opening up to anyone again. hiding behind a facade is so much more practical.

the bitch grabs me back

2008-01-25T06:00:00.000-08:00

mumbai that is.

every once in a while mumbai tires me, she makes me claustrophobic and cynical, she makes me want to leave and never come back, to get on long train trips, away from the sinking metropolis, convoluted by its own multitudes.

i lived for years in muscat, where id just throw my books away every other day, put my shoes on and go climbing, or even better just grab my rod(fishing rod, thank you very much) and head to the creek near the gulf hotel beach, or the narrow concrete isthmus at the corniche, and simply cast, the solitude disturbed only by the occasional gentle sound of the fish surfacing.

she is never silent, never still, there be no bovine placidity beneath the veneer of the hustle-bustle, there is no one soul, no one word to capture the city, it hasnt the sheer magnificence of rome, or the intellectuality of paris, not for it the eccentricity of london or dublin, or the raw physicality of muscat.

but then again, i walk on the link road as i did today, the raw freezing winter wind skinning my face, just trying to find a reason to love the city that i dreamt about in my exile in muscat, when i look to the horizon, at the sunset, and there it is, no city could have the sunset of mumbai, for the simple reason that there are very few that are just as polluted, because the orange that glimmers through the cirro cumulus, that gleams like an exposed wound in the sky, can only be caused by that most mundane of sources, dust, and other particulate matter.
the irony escapes me, and i just watch the sun set, in the foetid marshland of the exposed gutters,
the odour doesnt bother me, the street noises dont either, its almost as if the sun forgives the city for being what she is, and gives it her longest embrace before it sets.

the street lights start coming on, and im jolted to reality by a street urchin after my wordly wealth, i smile, and give her a 10, (well im not that generous, im gujju for gods sake, and ive lost quite a packet in stocks over the last week, but more of that later).

the bitch reclaims my soul, im hers, and i probably will be forever.

currently reading-vernon god little for the 3rd time in as many days, cant forgive myself for ignoring it all this while.

currently re-stening-AC/DC-tnt.

i dont care just how politically correct and ruddy serious tool is, or how much beauty is there in (insert generic angsty band with members with annoying beatle-ish but not quite hairdo's) lyrics, women to the left of me.. and women to my right, ac/dcs the way to go!!!

im experimenting with my shutter speeds now, i love time exposures.

oceans of people, rivers of blood.

2008-01-20T04:36:00.000-08:00

mumbai does that to me sometimes, i was at the borivali station a couple of days ago, getting off the 7:30 virar local(for the uninitiated, the 7:30 virar makes dante's inferno seem like disneyland) when i stopped, just plain stopped.

i let myself submerge in the crowd, the sheer volume of humanity, the claustrophobia, the touch of a million strangers. I tried to listen and hear,to watch, to feel the thoughts of the smorgasbord of people around me, i wanted to find a familiar face, a smile, a grin, a flash of recognition.

i found none. im alone, a dali-esque surrealist, nightmarish loneliness.

of balls and guys

2008-01-18T05:04:00.000-08:00

pun intended

im giving my college prelims right now, and the exercise has me smoking insanely, and prone to severe bouts of bad temper. not exactly my fault when you take notice of the catcrap that we have to mug up, puke and mug up again, and even worse considering that they have no point, the board exams that is.

what really shoves snuff up the elephants nose here is the incredible amount of righteous bullshit that we have, ranging from our EVS (environmental science) or emasculated vermin scum, (im open to suggestions) whichever suits you, to health and physical education, where we were made to give a two hour written paper which had questions like,"define the om? also write down its advantages."

no im serious. ive been studying for the entrances, like most other fat guys in mumbai who possess a cranial capacity that outweighs that of a dead frog, and because of that ive completely lost that part of my brain which had the capacity to absorb large quanta of worthless information without curiosity.

but a side effect of this is that my brain now has complete freedom to move in any tangent in wishes to go in, and i love it when this happens. though it just proves that immaterial of how bored i am, a large part of my thought is occupied by sex,

for example, i came up with this today, a direct link between the ballgame a guy plays and just how lucky he gets in the sack.
according to me,

size of ball in primary game played by a person is directly proportional to his sex life.

it makes a lot of sense, i mean look at it this way, have you ever, ever heard of a TT player charged with sexual assault?? or a squash player trying to find his balls on court?? Most cricketers with the notable exception of shane warne and yuvraj singh, are happily married, and ery very boring. on the other hand, we have football, every single day you read about how those lucky bricks get to have massive orgies, and come out nearly scot free. or even better, basketball. its a perrty well known fact that every single player in the NBA has atleast three kids he doesnt know about,

dyou think tony parker would have landed eva longoria if he played cricket??

i feel very very lame as i end this, but screw it, ive been wanting to blog like insane for the past coupla days and this was the only thing i could think of right now, all the others require way too much thought.

on a completely unrelated note, i read a very interesting article today,
apparently if a womans legs are more than 5% of her total height theyre twice as attractive, as stated by the researchers from some university in london. i finally know where im going to go after i finish up with my engineering, i mean these guys have the life, they get paid to watch zoom shots of jennifer anistons legs and get paid, and evn better accredited for it!!they can go around telling the buggers working on the riemann hypothesis or fermats last theorem, "nyah nyah nyah, you waste your life for humanity and the betterment of our mathematical knowledge, i get to stare at hot womens legs, in your face!!!!!"

i havent felt this bad about myself since i read about the researchers who published the paper on jessica alba's ass wiggle.

but i feel much better as i read about the fact that david beckhams son got an iphone for christmas, i mean sure its the one thing id sell my soul to own right now, but what makes me happy is what will happen when that kid figures out how to use the wifi on it and reads his parents press clippings, or even better sees the armani ad.

ah joy

an ode to the hair on my chinny chin chin

2008-01-08T23:41:00.002-08:00

stop growing you filthy sobs,
i hate, i repeat, HATE shaving, all that advertisement crap about how the first shave is a cause for joy, is just that, crap. this itches!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

pretender

2008-01-07T06:41:00.000-08:00

cannot get that ruddy beat out of my headspace, the drum rythm just keeps echoing.

but im just trying to start of lighthearted, im very very disturbed, and for very good reason. Now im not exactly a party animal, concerts, sure, but id much rather spend and evening reading dawkins or wodeshouse then be superficial and watch airheads kissass. this applies twice over to new yers eve. the parties for which i absolutely cant tolerate. i dont see the point. yeah were all getting older, our planets drowning, our leaders are fundamentalists, and our children are shooting each other, but other than that lets partayyy!

supremely retarded would be an understatement, but this post isnt to muse about all of the above, as worrying as it is. what is really under my skin right now is what happened that night in mumbai. two NRI women one recently married, along with their husbands had attended the JW marriot new years party, and on coming out were manhandled by a group of blue collar workers . all this in full view of cameras. as if this werent shocking enough, listen to what DN jadhav, mumbai's police commisioner had to say, and i quote"Don't blow it out of proportion, have a rational look and don't make a mountain of a molehill,” and

“We cannot make more security arrangements. We don’t promise and I don’t promise. It happens every year and it can happen here also,” adds Jadhav.

brilliant,

but thats not it, yesterdays HT had a special on the indian male viewpoint of the women, and its shameful. downright, completely inexcusably shameful. a statistical majority of interviewees claimed that a woman in a bar, or one who wears "foreign clothes" is asking to be molested. that a woman should be taught her place, that while its ok for guys to drink or smoke, women should refrain from any of those things , not because its unhealthy, but because its not in our culture. Even worse, if thats possible , is that a majority of indian WOMEN agree to this, to the extent that a singular majority believe that a husband has the divine right to beat his spouse on being disobeyed.

ive been hopelessly indulgent with my language and grammar above, but thats only because i feel this whit hot rage inside me. all this keeping in mind that im a regular guy, i can only imagine what the women in this city feel like.

the moral police deems MF hussain enemy of the peace, a college in mumbai makes its students wear full sleeves and kameezes to stick to our traditions, everyday 30 women are raped and countless more molested, i do understand that religion has lead to the sexual frustration to rampant in our society, but even that isnt an excuse, ive always been an atheist, but always considered religion to be a valid cohesive force in society, i dont anymore. i believe if there is someone or something to be blamed for all of this, the sheer hypocrisy, the callousness, the disrespect, tho inability to adjust to the changing zeitgeist, its religion.

HOW can this be the country of my ancestors, HOW can we be so callous, HOW can an authority dimiss this so easily as just another incident. What the fuck has gone wrong!!!!

please please read annie zaidis pledge on her link here http://www.anniezaidi.com/. sums it all up.

ebby noo yur beeble

2007-12-31T08:29:00.000-08:00

head still hurts a little and my words are slurred. going to ring in the new year the way it should be rung in. physics!!!!

type ouch type again, ouch again, nod, owwwwwwwwwwwwww

2007-12-30T05:17:00.001-08:00

yep moshpits do that to people. yesterday was livewire at moodi, the greatest festival in all the land. they dint sell us the tickets after an hour long wait because apparently they weren't letting junior college students listen to metal. is that fascism, or just plain stupid?? same thing happened last year, but they came out and handed out the passes in sheaves at the end anyway, hoping summat like that would happen again, we persisted. did not, after 6 false alarms, and a ginormous guy almost breaking the ticket booth window, they chucked us outta the place, really really pissed off now. roamed around a bit with a couple of friends and decided to go to the gokart place at powaii to see what would happen when a person drives a gokart when hes high, drunk and mad, but then again, the fates conspired and we were told that there was a two hour line there. so im a little more pissed, thoughts of letting the evening go and getting piss drunk did float by, but i thought id settle for a nice hawaiian kona at mochas, which is the closest to ambrosia as possible. that wasnt to be,

went back to the campus to try to get in through influence, agonising phone calls, some depressing smokes and an hour long wait later, i found a truly kickass way of getting in,
apprently all iitians are allowed to get guests, and because theyre iitians most dont have girlfriends, and in possibly the most homosexual moment in my short life, i went around asking random people if i could be their guest, finally some first years agreed, and we got in allright.

thermal and a quarter and zero were the headliners, and just when i thought the day was going to get a lot better, it turned upon its head, thermal was a fine band, something id listen to when im on the road, and in a state to listen to the lyrics and reflect. but you see, i wasnt on the road, and i WAS a wee bit high. and thus thermal, in no uncertain words, pissed me off. their drummer was intense, and guitarist incredible too, but absolutely no stage presence and their vocalist made some rather depressing attempts to be funny. which got us all a little angrier, because lets face it, i go to concerts for one reason alone, headbanging and the mosh pit, both of which were not possible during a very very questionable cover of the beatles daytripper.

but then zero came in, and everything else went out of my noggin, i thought them clones were the best mosh pit starters in india, but when these guys came out with the only version of we will rock you that didn't make me want to run to the hills, i knew that finally the night had begun, zero made the whole day seem worth it. incredible ocs, and the piece de resistance that was a cover of the foo fighters pretender, made headbanging and moshing a lot of fun.

got home at 1 am, woke up at 11, my body wants to kill the part of me which made me take on the big fat dude in the moshpit, and im still a little hungover.

oh so worth it!!!!!!!!!

thts my cousin moksh, dont be fooled by his looks, the kid still scares the crap outta me, took me a loooong time to get this pic, but hes starting to grow on me, and i think i can spoil him yet.

love in the ime of the jee/in the eyes of a slob with no hope of getting laid anytime soon

2007-12-25T20:15:00.000-08:00

Now first, im a guy studying for the jee s, and as such they have permeated every inch of my psychological fabric. This is nothing but an obscenely simple gesture of self pity, something I wallow for an hour every day. For the people who don’t know, i.e. the retards and/or the commerce students the pathway to the iits is a huge 2 year long rollercoaster ride, filled with complexes, tears, a lot of stoner music and the omnipotent desire within you to sell your books, and get on the train to goa.

By far however, the toughest thing that we, or atleast I have had to face is the complete stopping of any pleasures even remotely related to interactions with the fairer sex, for a normal straight guy, with a completely normal sexual instinct, where normal refers to not humping anything that moves and has the right contours, the two years are a veritable hell. To take a leaf out of borat sagdiyevs book, no more sexy time.

Now I know that sacrifice is but the price one has to pay, and a host of other symmetrical clichés delivered de la parents and relatives every day, but smack my arse and call me lizzy, its tough man, especially if you happen to go to my college where you see god for the sadist he really is, because he puts the most grotesquely fugly guys trying to swallow whole their considerably hotter female counterparts smack bang in front of you. And thus you begin questioning yourself, to the extent that you even try to go on a diet, (that’s a completely different story, an even longer one though and im one of those people who live just so they can stuff their face.)

Of course, it does help that the girls in your jee classroom atleast tend to, to put it lightly look like ravi kissen in drag, but even so the proximity principle starts messing with your head. The proximity principle works like a game of golf, where logically you drive towards the nearest hole in sight. (wink wink nudge nudge)

However at this point, due to the perusal of some of my comrades who claim to have cupids arrows hanging from their arses. I must digress .I do happen to be a cynic, with the general viewpoint that love is a major waste, and not without good reason, for chemically love and obsessive compulsive disorder are identical., and yes this is my standard reply to the “why no girlfriend??” question put forward by aged relative who think theyre being cool. to which the enquirer, looks towards my rock hard pecs and six pack, and smiles knowingly.

This does happen to be a rant, and I am currently wallowing, but even then, there are moments when you wish that like the guy in the couple who you happen to be gawking at as the attempt half the kamasutra on a bike, you could get some too!!!!!

thish shucksh

2007-12-24T19:43:00.000-08:00

learnt one of life's most important lessons yesterday.

never ever try to dig into a pop tates chicken pepper steak sizzler. or for that matter any sizzler, if ur slightly inebriated, especially if ur poison was a long island ice tea, or in this case, 3 long island ice teas,

i kept forgetting that the plate was sposed to be scorching hot, end result, my tongues scalded and i sound like elmer fudd on helium.

do i regret the booze,
a little, but come on, long island ice tes are the stuff of life, and u cant go into pop tates, the place where i had my first alcohol, and not drink a little, its sacreligious!!!!

sleep, study, introspect, not kill myself

2007-12-22T05:37:00.000-08:00

badass week, for want of a hyperbole.
i do realize that im going to sound like a horribly mangled version of a readers digest testimonial, but i really have to do this.

grandma was sent to the hospital on tuesday, low haemoglobin count apparently, which while not very serious, made me slow down for an instant, and under the influence of some very questionable natural aids, i decided to actually measure how much she meant to me. i spent the first three years of my life with her, then spent the next 8 living in the hope of seeing her soon. lived with her for the last one year, and above all, absolutely took for granted that no matter what. Nanis a mumbai constant, always there in her own extremely hyperactive way, making sure we were well fed, watered and slightly irritated by the interrogations.

it was only this year that i saw just how resilient her spirit is, i mean look at it this way, she grew up in grant road, right next to the red light district, her mom died when she was 14, and she practically brought up her two brothers. marriage followed, and instead of a well deserved break from family obligations, she was brought into a family with nine siblings, the youngest being barely 10 at the time of their marriage, and so, at the expense of her own youth, and to a large extent her health, she took almost the entire family under her wing, bringing them to bombay and getting them settled. while at the same time bringing up her own family, my mom and uncle who im assured were the 1970 version of hellraisers, both of whom had love marriages, which while it doesnt sound very rebellious, was pretty durn forward for a gujju semi joint family.

but thats something so many people have done, what sets her apart, is that my grandma , is without a doubt the most selfless person in the world. completely incapable of rest whatsoever, she refuses to lie down even now, after, now be prepared to be amazed, 11 major operations. a fake eardrum, a ruptured appendix, gall bladder removal, tuberculosis, pneumonia, and two non malignant tumours on her throat, and mouth.

i still cant get over it, and yet she refuses to sit down, she still refuses to let anyone else make lunch or dinner, still fights her own battles, and still wants to follow her dreams of seeing the world, something shes bound to do by the end of next year, considering that theyve gone through most of asia and the usa anyways.

feeling rather senti today, with very good reason. i watched what is possibly the best movie to come out in 07. taare zameen par, i was for the first time gonna hand over the year the the man with the plastic abdominals, but once again mr aamir khan blows us away,

how, by making a movie in bollywood, that for the second time, after rdb, combines everything that i feel good cinema should contain, while im not one of those complete snoots who thumb their nose at mainstream cinema and consider the day wasted if they dont mention goddard or bergman, i do feel that indian mainstream plagued for long by the evils that are david dhavan, sooraj barjatya, and the ilk, needs to give up on the bullshit, and get a move on, coz its had time enough to evolve.
but i digress,

taare is in one, awfully unlike me word, heartwarming. storyline is easy enough, dyslexic kid, with the capacity to think out of box, upper middle class family, loving mom, narrow minded dad, evil teachers, overachieving brother(and this might make me sound very narcissistic, reminded me of me at that age) the works.
i cant describe it, maybe its the incredible measured performances of darsheel safary, or aamir himself, or maybe its the fine direction, but something about the movie touches you on this incredibly emotional level.

and just like rdb the songs are the movie, prasoon joshi, for the first time, makes hindi peppered with english incredibly incredibly poetic. and every one of the songs forms an integral part of the movie, drawing you into the story instead of jarring your concentration violently, a rather common prepensity of cinema.

ive said it before in one of my posts that i want to teach kids at somepoint in my life, and i realise that this makes me sound like an idealist, but this movie has completely strengthened my resolve.

again aamir khan and amole gupte, take a bow.

until my cynicism returns.

uranus

2007-12-12T19:58:00.000-08:00

lets get down to the nitty gritty, there are things which are incredibly funny, but completely lose their funny after a stipulated period of time, little johnny jokes, yo mama so fat jokes, rushi ur a lazy slob who screws over anything jokes, and some others fall into this rather mundane category, but as the title suggests, im gonna talk abt possibly the funniest word in the english language, one which crosses thresholds of gender, intellect, and humour type. yes lets talk about about uranus,,

haha geddit??

its incredible, a simple sublime catenation of two words, innocuously hidden in the form of a planet. thats uranus for u,

see, im on a roll, effortlessly too.

me dev and ashmita, in order to get over the monstrosity that the english paper was, we were discussing the relative merits of , u guessed it uranus. and it was decided that uranus is ,was, and will remain funny, with or without any particular effoerts on your part.

somebody stop me!!

think of the possiblities, its like finding the key to instant laughter, got a problem , make a sentence using uranus, for example;
sorry maam, its just that uranus is in my horoscope and i was warned to avoid doing the math project.

or maybe, i was too busy watching uranus performing a rare planetary movement to notice the time, and i fell into a vat of beer while doing the same. i dont drink, honest!!!

see how easy it is,

its like the masterkey joke, immaterial of how improbably retarded, serious, or heaven forbid mature the person ur talking to is, slip in a sentence with uranus(ha) and ur good, he might not laugh like u intended for him to, but rest assured, inside that desolate place within his cranium devoid of any fun whatsoever, it will ring a bell, and uranus will make a small part of him laugh,

again, see how easy it is.

ok, someone, i need to noe this answer, how did hagrids 5 foot father impregnate his 20 foot giantess of a mother?? engorgement charms?? still, i want a logical solution.

oooh got a new quote

2007-12-12T06:57:00.000-08:00

pg wodehouse rocks,

no wait, he kicks ass
no hold on, he rules all
fine im out.

immaterial of how much i advocate toilet humour, double entendres, and sexual innuendoes, pg wodehouse has this way of making my writing, and my rather distasteful, not to mention failed attempts at being funny. so incredibly incredibly small. its true and using nothing more than a dandy, a monosyllabic butler, and golf, every time i read one of his books, and ive read them all i think, i cant help but laugh, and not laugh as in the suppressed smile within, something which i dont believa ive ever been capable of, but laugh like i just saw the backstreet boys jump into the moshpit at ozzfest.

dunno how he did it, dunno if anyone can do it again,

u noe u can judge my mood by the book im reading in the coffee shop outside my college,
if im reading harry potter, or eldest or sidney sheldon, or any other generic thriller, mystery, bullcrap, feel free to slap me on the back, and we'll have a laugh or two. beacuse im lpain bored and im just using the book as a cover to watch the chickas go by. and also because fat gujju kids sitting on mini chairs doing nothing at all is not a pretty sight.

if its khalil gibran, wilbur smith, khaled hosseini, or poetry, of any kind, and i have a stick in my palm, im actually trying to think, or be serious, or try to impress the cute chick in front of me and hope tht she digs the intellectual kind. its absolutely never worked.

if im readin pg wodehouse and puffing away, its been one of those days, and im not really very happy then.

but , if u see me reading a roald dahl, please oh please for ur sake and mine do not attempt conversation, it shall be futile and ill do my best to bite ur head off. so there

a lot of this is based on the assumption tht ud come to the coffee place and actually care.!

check out the quote from a wodehouse,

everything in life thats any fun is immoral, illegal or fattening!!

bleed scream bleed stop, humongous laugh, bleed scream bleed stop, momentary respite, bleed scream bleed stop

2007-12-11T20:00:00.002-08:00

i love it wen im feeling like this, the whole dark side within inflamed, catalysed by mssrs, infected mushrooms, arabian nights on mescalin.

scream
it begins from within that abyss,
within the primordial plane of your thought,
a choke, a grief, a feeling,
for want of a better word.

it rushes through your veins, a poison,
like quicksilver seeping through a needle,
it pulverizes your mental barriers,
and blows away your inhibitions.

it ignites your soul,
and chokes the voices in tour head,
it ignites your phoenix of thought.
it rushes through your being,
and readies yous senses for the onslought.

let it out in any way you can.
the rage, the turmoil, the tempest within.
bite down.

and scream

kickass within gothic moment in session and woe betide you if u remind me that its pathetic.

cupids a fat homicidal dwarf!

2007-12-09T07:59:00.000-08:00

u heard me,

this is one fucked up year. every which way, a coupla dates, , one good cup of jamiacan blue mountain at mochas sprayed on being asked the question"have u ever thought about the future?' a coupla weeks into the relationship, some rather nasty emotional scar tissue. all in all, not really disneyland.

aint unrequited love a bitch!

ive god a bad gold

2007-12-07T23:02:00.002-08:00

i think the common cold is cool as hell man, i mean what with the in frigin credible amount of stress im feeling right now, my cold just seems to take it all away, that and the fact that i just saw the gay guy on ndtv good times make meatballs!!

i swear to god, i think im reverse aging mentally!

castles made of sand fall into the ocean.... eventually
ah hendrix, now wheres tht doobie

pearls before swine, no really

2007-12-07T08:23:00.000-08:00

ok i dont care tht most people reading the mumbai mirror, (an abysmally retarted venture in journalism with malice towards anil thakraney, and a coupla other jackass writers, but in complete and utter awe of mayank shekhar and eunice dsouza. ) is there anybody out there readin the current story, i mean it takes sheer comic genius to get jeffy from the family circus, that bane upon my pre pre adolescent years, and tie him to a stake with the zebra.

they even gave me my favourite quote,

if life gives u lemons, hurl them back at the f******* who gave them to you.

kickass or what??

ah caffeine

2007-12-03T06:48:00.000-08:00

an ode to my expresso
honestly, i really really really dunno wht id do if it werent for coffee. its like within that dark steaming mass of liquid euphoria, i find everything that ive wanted to fell within me for ever so long. unlike certain people who want to cry abt their tummies after a mocha and a (hahaha) cappuchino, i like my coffee like i like my most other things, (not women , just most other things,)big,black and strong,
which is why ive added, to my list of things i want to eat, smoke, own, experience or drink before i die, or until the little white mice decide to switch off the computer(the hh guide) the following

own a cimbali expresso machine, and my own blend of hawaiian kona, blue mountain, and the good old indian peaberry.

the list is rather large, and owing to the fact that no one reads this shit anyway id be glad to share most of it.

it includes:
spending a atleast 6 months each in paris, rome, ny, french polynesia, amsterdam(hehe ), south africa and a few more

lsd

having the intellect to read thru richards feynmans musings.

teach in a school for the underprevileged, if only to see how much young minds can really be messed up)

skydive, scuba , climb,

live

ah
tht was actually rather depressingly sweet,
mayb im down with sumthing,
mayb im just sweet inside and ie been misunderstood my entire life,

ok i cant even write that without laughing.

time and the lack of it, or the fact tht im upto my rather pimply nose in work and im reading blogs

2007-12-01T23:26:00.000-08:00

ah the sweet mind numbing sensation of knowing that wht uve been doing for the last half hour is something thats gonna make u wanna pluck out the hair from ur sensitives with a rusty tweezer , if only to stop the guilt pain. (imagery can be brutal)
onwards then, i sat for my sats yesterday, and excuse my french, but seriosuly how retarded are the kids in the us of a??? sure english was a wee bit tricky at points, but math ws a joke, (this from someone who's lifes ambition is to build a time machine, go back in time, slaughter everyone from euclid to newton and come back to a world where maths does not exist, and while im at it, go to woodstock , watch hendrix and actually find out if i can get lucky there, that is whether lsd can really make me look good to any sentient being)
but seriously, can u imagine a test which has questions like

if x+2/x = 5+2/5 then find x

retarded
even worse were the rich south mumbai, snobby, panerai wearing jackasses and jennies(let it never be said that i discriminate between the sexes) who gave the paper with me, they were trying to actually copy in the test!!!!!
wtf!!!!!!!!!!!
no
really
wtf!!!!!!!!

just tht of something tho, and answers wil be appreciated, why on earth is it called a love triangle?? i mean if saif wants to and is humping kareena, and shahid wants to but isnt humping saif, does that mean that kareena wants to hump both saif and shahid??even after realising that shahid wants to hump saif???

did that make sense or am i drunk in the middle of the day again??
btw, i also tend to think shahid kapoor is so gay that he makes elton john look butch, but u wudve guessed that one.

dude!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2007-11-19T05:44:00.000-08:00

i watched om shanti om yesterday, and honestly i dunno wat to say, first im in love, officially with deepika padukne, i mean sure aishwarya rais beautiful, but shes the kind of beauty that scares you, and the sort which you noe there isnt a chance in hell for you to end up ith, and for that reason alone i believe deepika is worse, because from the moment her face is unveiled i swear there ws a collective gasp of breath in the audience , even the guys who were trying to make babies int he movie hall(ill write abt tht later), much to the consternation of their female counterparts, looked up and watched , i mean seriously , she has this ethereal beauty in her, but its the sort that would make you want to sign over your savings bonds to her, if she just shows those dimples again. its cruel because unlike comesone like aishwarya rai, catherine zeta jones, or nicole sherzinger, she shes got that look about her that makes u wanna sit at her side in a organ grinder monkeys vest, and feed her grapes.

aww look at me, im getting all senti all of a sudden.

but farah khans smart, shes knew wht deepika is good for, and thus, deepika has around 20 lines in the movie, and 300 close ups.

but wht farah khan did wrong was tht she made the official bane of indian cinema, shahrukh khan, act. stop

no seriously the man has been responsible for making me give up on one of the most integral parts of my vocabulary, the word dude,

now i digess, but i frimly believe that you can tell a guy from the way he says the word.
in short,
1>if its a d-you-d the guys a moron, who learnt it watching srk in action, if it is preceded by a rocking, then hes all of the above, and hes from my college.
2>if its duudde, the guys stoned, or wants to be stoned, or thinks hes stoned.
3> if its dud as in milk without the h, hes the kind of guy wholl get massacred in the mosh pit.

4> but if its chill d-you0uu-d coupled with hand signals tht strongly indicate cerebral palsy, spoken by a tiny jackass who looks like what happened when arnold tried to have sex with a chihahua, its shahrukh khan.

i swear on evverything i hold dear, if i see one more, just one more picture of him without his shirt on, or hear him say d-you-d i will hunt the man down myself and make him watch his movies(except chak de and swades, as much as it riles me to admit it) till he finally decides to kill himself to save the indian psyche.

the movies pretty good otherwise, its a guilty pleasure, and full points to farah for making it one.

gotta focus

nope, me want padukones cones, haha i made pun.

im not a pervert, its just tht i need love.!!!
ah whom i kidding, arent we all!!!

oh check this out,
this ones one of my better jokes, what dyou call pamela anderson doing the breaststroke???

inflatable rafting!!!!!
if you see 50 penises/penii(im not sure) rolling down a slope, wht wud u call it??

lund-slide!!!!
hahahahahahah oh dude im buzzed right now.

mr tambourine man

2007-11-05T04:15:00.000-08:00

bob dylans a genius!!!!!!!!!

just listened to him seriously, i mean WOW.
listening to a lot of baroque music rite now, i think the four seasons might be the greatest piece of music ever, right there with all along the watchtower.

need acid, oh so bad.!!!!

so then shail said tht the ideal rushi is......

2007-11-04T05:51:00.000-08:00

ah shail, perpetuator of hideously unbecoming blemishes upon my already vagaried reputation what can i say of thee.

ahole!!!!!! there was a lot of the 8% alcohol, i did too have a rather hot girlfriend, and well i refuse to believe that a scumbag such as you has gotten laid.

i seem to believe that wen ur studying, bored and lonely , u build things up in ur head something shail is rather proficient at, and then just to see the innocent eyes of my classmates widen, i exagerrate the made up shit, and blow it all to them.

not that i wudnt be building things up in my head when
im not doing any of the above, but well its just easier.

for example, just so i can maintain the reputaton of being the underappreciated misunderstood genius, in my class, i make stuff up about wht i was doing the day before when they were studying , and then say that m,y rather pathetic marks were rather good for the puny efforts i made.

it does work.

wali happens to be my failsafe, theyve seen a couple of his pix, and with my stories they think that hes a dangerous drug addict whose aid i have to rush to when he tries going cold turkey,
apparently i tell them the only way is to get really really drunk, which explains my hangover that particular morning.

again i dont just do it because it gives me an excuse to redeem my position as the guy who actually likes science but just doesnt enjoy studying quite as much.(it is true) but also because every time i tell them stories of how drunk me and my friends get, how many times weve almost been suspended, and other assorted tales, their eyes seem to widen so,

it really is fun, u ought to try it next time u meet someone from kota.

dunno man
i think the 12 hr workdays are getting to me.

i love talking abt my study hours, it makes me think im one upping my friends in muscat, who seem to be doing nothing but getting wasted and in shails case, making up stories about how he got lucky, give it up shail, im really getting worried about sasha.

im starting to get the hang of this blogging thing.

me me and while im at it, a little more of me

2007-11-03T09:43:00.000-07:00

its been almost 6 months since i felt the urge to spew my random thoughts into the internet. while it certainly isnt exactly a cause for celebration, today was a little less fucked up than i hoped it wud be. u see my faux diwali holidays started today. now diwali is in my eyes the most irritating of all the festivals ever, right there on the cliche boards with christmas. but i call them faux holidays because as it has been repeatedly drilled into my subconscious, its time.

its been said to me over and over and over again, it was wht was going through the part of my brain which wasnt inebriated 2 weeks ago when i projectile vomited in poptates, and then was propositioned in a dark cinema hall. it was wht has been going through my mind for the last entire week when i probably resembled a very large smokestack, wht has been going through my mind every time i watch her. and wht was going through my mind when all at once i decided to skip class and challenge my intellect by watching no smoking.

man i just broke up a long distance relationship. this sucks man!~!!!!why is that everythime i convnve meself that this might be the gal for me, shes either too far away, a tiny retard comes in the way, or she thinks looks are important. its not self deprecation, its rationality!!

it is finally time for thee heavy push, the final 5 months of hard labour that would amke the gulags seem like summer camp.yes, i am so incredibly confused right now, that i seem to have lost the general thread of information spew.

and as i(in a mr t tone) pity the fool who dares read the catcrap im writing, i must say its oddly therapeutic, i can almost feel my confusion lifting, the fog in my mind clearing,

nope.

just needed to take a leak.

but on to more mundane things, ive finally discovered in myself the ability to be amused by the very very pathetic. why just yesterday, i read harry potter on my cell phone, and couldnt stop laughing,. i mean there are somethings in there which do make u wanna think.
why isnt harry an incredible wizard,
why didnt he realise tht all that pain was just sexual tension,
and how in the name of hendrix, did hagrids 5 foot father impregnate a twenty foot giantess???

ive also decided that our cable tv networks and mr anil thakraney, the jackass who writes in the mumbai mirror, are all a part of an international committee tht wants to promote euthanesia through boredom and complete and utter destruction of the ability to rationalise and/or think.

no seriously, while it may be really really incedibly funny to watch the evil eye pendant infomercial,(please watch it people) i do think think that every one of the reality shows should be scrapped, or even better, all their glyverin burnt, that annoying sardar on sa re ga ma pa or something shot in the nuts, ravi kissen castrated, himesh reshammiya bludgeoned, and india tv and rajat kapoor, put out of commision, but imsaving the best for karan johar, he shud be sent to an all women prison, the asspirate wudnt survive a day!!!!

oh the last paragraph was ecstasy, im of the view that there shud be a mass voting once a month to decide who shud be killed u noe, and i dont mean on the tv shows, i mean actual live telecasted killings, i swear, the trps would shoot to the moon.
.

speaking of intellectual challenges, i did watch no smoking, and while im an ardent worshipper of anurag kashyap, atleast after he called koffee with karan the mutual masturbation show, i do feel the guys overdone it , the cinematography is incredible, no two ways about it. and while the story is obviously incredible, i just dont think tht im smart enuff to understand it in its enitrety,

sigh

sigh

well dont look at me, im obviously trying to sound needy, someone give me a pity fuck!!!!

i think ive pissed off the reader enuff. till the next time.

miss universe, really???

2007-05-22T07:18:00.000-07:00

now, a few minutes ago, as i lay ruminating the days happenings while at the same time trying to decide why "gand" is considered feminine, seeing that of all the things in heaven and earth, the arse would be a nonsexist organ, right there with the funny bone. there came this preview or whatever u call it, for the miss universe pageant. now this set me thinking, humility in its own place, did it not occur to us mortals, that the females we will be drooling about for the next one year, and who will then be comfortably forgotten, might not be the most attractive things, in the universe!!!! isnt it sposed to be a question of perspective, i mean sure we like em tits and ass just fine, but cant it be that years onwards, when weve choked our seas, and fried our atmosphere to the extent that bikinis become mandatory, (though redundant since entering the seas would automatically trigger atleast 50 different types of melanoma, or get u eaten by the mutant turtle shark hyrbids caused by the sewage from my place!). ummm bikinis... sorry, *wiping off drool) i mean, if we were to be contacted by a higher intelligence or perhaps even 16 year old teens from outer space, couldnt they dismiss the very ladies, who make things go bump in the night, (and make some of us reach for the tissues) as ugly as sin???? just a thought, i really dont mind watching the women i noe i cudnt get even after a coupla liposuctions, and sneaking into brad s home and peeling his face off. but yes i dont like the idea of a forced perspective caused by presumptions. what say??

hungry

2007-05-15T08:16:00.000-07:00

i need money, i wanna new cell, my old ones screwed.!!!!!!!!!!!!!! not to change the subject again, but did anyone see the ad for activ juice, apparently, it makes hot chicks go pole dancing around escalators while showing off a progressively low hemline. i mean,if it really does perform the viagra sorta action for a flagging brain shudnt it be banned, or better yet, why doesnt the moral police do what it does the best, swoop in all of a sudden, declare the juice to be enantiomerically similar to soma rasa, declare it as a sacrilege and denounce it as anti hindu propaganda. All this while they manage to push behind the stories about how they were the people who were caught ,in the immortal words of borat sagdiyev- making hand party over the confiscated photographs of the paintings that caused the entire storm in the teacup.

ah the moral police, now there is something which makes the old brain cells shrivel up and die. I really dont understand the whole business of moral policing at all, i mean here is a country where the arguably greatest books on sex have been written, no not the kamasutra, im talking about mastram, (for those who dont know, mastram is a legendary hindi erotic writer, owing to whom the entire populace of uttar pradesh, and its neighbouring states get their jollies) , a country with the second largest population in the world, and yet, a completely tateful piece of art, by one of india's greatest artistic treasures, M.F. hussain, is labelled hedonism.why all this hypocrisy, i mean somebodys fucking !!!Even better is this, apparently in mumbai its morally wrong for signboards to show off cleavage, something which generally sweetens the day for pedestrians, commuters and me, but its just people earning their livelihood, when the guy who sells dvds thirty feet from a temple, and a police station sells stacks and stacks of porn to children. not that i mind the whole thing with the porn, i kinda appreciate mumbai waking up to the finer sensibilities of two people making babies, as opposed to watching wet sarie contests in bhojpuri movies.

ah the sweet sensation of a minds rambles to due lack of sleep, sex, logical thought, and in my case, a combo of all of them!!!

me myself and the crazy oversexed zealot inside me

2007-05-11T05:53:00.000-07:00

whoopie my first blog, as i sit here after succesfully coming upon yet another absolute waste of my time when i really should be studying random thoughts float through my head, is this going to be THE OUTLET for the random verbose ramblings of my mind, ravaged as it were by studying for india's most significant exam ever, oooooooooo the iits, big bad and legendary, they will be the muse, the basis and possibly only thing i might rant about in my blog, funny how something that you really want to do takes its pound of flesh, isnt it????

i know im rambling but then again thats just me, im confused no im not the generic confused teen, i pride myself in being the newer version of the angsted out teen, the thinks -hes- an- intellectual -but- is- really- as- smart- as- a- clod- of- earth. angsted out teen, i eat breathe and sleep(that sentence has never made sense to me) contradictions, i, in a diary entry have described myself as a god fearing atheist, the guy who people think is cool because hes so confident but is actually so self conscious that it actually physically pains of him, the commitment phobic who labels himself that because hes incapable of finding a girl stupid enough, and finally the dreamer whos scared to work hard for himself.

kind of self deprecating innit?? but that again is one of my finer qualities, im my own worst enemy for most of the time except for the rare occasions where my grotesquely gloated ego takes over, i try my level best to be funny, and i assure you the reader who hd the patience to actually read the above, something which i know i might delete pretty soon because of its obvious redundancy, i generally am a funny person to hang around with, and undoubtedly i will try my level best to be funny later on, but for now this is the only thing in my mind,

metamorphosis
the stranger in the mirror,
his siren call grows stronger.
almost afraid to look, i watch pensive, as it were.

he beckons to me.
his gaze beguiling, i feel drawn to him,
i reach out, and our minds brush.

a spark flies into the void,
as our minds entwine,
the strangers mind is huge,
darkness specked with light,
his being is vast, and his consciousness foreign.

but strangely, i feel i belong,
our minds so different but yet the complement,
when all at once, he takes ovr, and with a noiseless scream,
i plunge into his inky depths,

it scares me,
for when the stranger takes over,
life becomes a film noir,
faces are blurred, yet thoughts i can see,
anger seeps through my being, enveloping every fibre,
and love is but lust , wrapped in a gaudy cliche.
but i feel a fierce joypervading through him,
its contagious, and our minds soar in exhultation,
sudden moments of clarity, breaking through the dark,

but then again i take over, and life is good, all roses and pink.
love blossoms, and it no longer disgusts me,
my anger lies dormant,
but yet, i feel trapped, an insect in a utopian terrarium.
a hunger wrenching through my mind, the desire to break my shackles.

so who might i be,
the stranger in the mirror,
or me??
despite the above, im not a goth, and do indulge in carpe diem , the above is me, raw, and i knew i just had to put this out, even if no one were to read it.