Sunday, May 23, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
I'm a man's best friend. Aloha, I say, and come into your life. Sometimes, you just love me. I provide you with confidence in the hour of need. I do fail you at times but that's just too naughty of me. Don't panic as I do it with everyone. How else on earth am I supposed to prove my worth? I'm just a call away, though. You gotta call it right. And when you or your special someone does, I appear in my full majesty bringing smiles all around. If it weren't for me, life would be so hard, pun intended. I am not so kind to everyone, especially if you have spent a considerable time on earth. But the medicos have come up with a stimulant. You know, I have weaknesses as well, na. Its the V-word. It makes me weak at the knees and facilitates my appearance whenever I want to ditch some old bugger. Anyway, I love spreading joy, happiness and ecstasy. If it weren't for me, the world's favourite and the oldest sport would be so hard, pun intended again. And there wouldn't be any life. I'm the creator.
I'm full of blood. That makes me Erection, Bloody Erection. And just like Mr. 007, I like it ‘shaken, not stirred’.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Ye jaam koi hataa lo yahan se
Na ho jaaye paagal ye gumnaam kaafir
Tasveer unki hataa lo yahan se
Tazeer si hai ye goshanasheeni
Deedar hota hai unka yahan se
Dum-e-waapasi ko toh aana nahi hai
Janaaza hamara nikalo yahan se
[khalish: pain | chubhan: pain | ragon: nerves | jaam: intoxication | gumnaam: lost/unknown | kaafir: unbeliever | tasveer: picture | tazeer: punishment | goshanasheeni: being in the corner | deedar: view | dum-e-waapasi: the last breath | janaaza: funeral]
Monday, May 10, 2010
“Marry me, you shithead!”
“I can’t hear you. Call me up from the next station.”
“Aaaaai saaaidddd, Wouuuuuuld youuu marrrrrrrrry meeeee?” Standing on the doorsteps of C1, he screamed at the top of his voice; as if it would make up for the poor telecom connectivity.
Whoever coined the phrase “madly in love” was a genius. These two ‘iddiots’ knew what it meant. And they wanted to be exactly this mad all their life. Half the time they fought. The rest they made up. But they loved each other. Madly.
He didn’t want to hear stuff about other guys. He didn’t like it when she went out for coffee with them every single day. And he got irritated way too soon. She was paranoid about his ex. And she had a special ability to misinterpret everything he said. He cracked jokes none else on earth would even chuckle at. And she laughed her guts out every single time. Her jokes were even worse. And he made his special comments on them much to her chagrin.
Anything she loved was sure to be despised by him. Anything he fancied didn’t mean anything to her. He loved butter scotch. She hated it. He preferred to keep a ‘Plan B’ with himself. She never cared.
She read like crazy. He thought books were dog-piss. She loved Ronan Keating. He thought it was an insult to music. He was a movie maniac. Errrr, she wasn’t. She loved Julia Roberts. He was scared of the size of Julia’s mouth. He smoked like a chimney. She couldn’t stand the smell of it. He drank like a fish. She abhorred drunkards.
They had nothing to talk over the phone. Absolutely nothing. She never wanted to hang up. And he didn’t find logic in not doing so when there was nothing to be said. She loved the silences as well. He usually didn’t.
She wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t perfect. They broke up every week and patched up again.
He even forgot her first birthday together!!! “Its my birthday. You can wish me now,” she said at 0030 hours. She gave him a surprise visit a day before his first birthday together.
They had nothing in common. Unusually nothing. Creepily nothing. Zip. Zero. Zilch. They were the two opposite poles created by God in two totally different moods.
But when they met, they became the best things that ever happened to each other. The way they held hands. The way they looked at each other. The way he cared that extra bit not to hurt her while combing her hair. The way she filtered the information he didn’t want to hear. The way they could just sit there, saying nothing at all and it didn’t seem to bother. The way they could keep on blabbering any fucked-up shit about anything on earth. And it didn’t even have to make sense. The way he patted her forehead. The way she held his hand to her cheek. The way they touched. The way they hugged. The way they kissed.
This was love. They knew it. They were sure of it.
And they both loved mushrooms.
“You know I can’t.”
“What you can’t?”
“I can’t marry you right now.”
“I mean, you’re there on the train and I have these darn exams.”
“Aaaaargh bitch. Would you tell me already?”
“Awww, that’s the sweetest way a guy could ever propose. Are you even on your knees?”
“I now am, fuckwit. You know I can fall off the train like this.”
“Yeah whatever. So you were saying something.”
“Babe. Growing old with you and arthritis isn’t half as bad and scary as sitting here near the door of this compartment. For the love of God and in the name of his arse, please be considerate enough to tell me if you would like to see this same ugly face, crooked nose and huge ears by the side of your bed every damned morning all your life?”
“Ummm. Lemme think. What are the options?”
“Well its just me and Shahid Kapoor.”
“In that case…”
There were jolts. Uncharacteristic jolts. Dammit. It shook ominously. He tried to get up stretching his arm to get hold of the rod next to the door. But somehow he couldn’t. The boggie seemed to revolve around a vertical axis. He got thrown towards the ceiling that accelerated towards the ground. And his head hit it. Real bad.
He was a ‘Punching-Bag’. She was a ‘Pain-In-The-Ass’.
Thursday, May 06, 2010
For the uninitiated, this means that the two months are NOT being spent in any cozy air-conditioned office with transparent walls and free internet. Instead, I’m living out of a suitcase ‘touring’ all of Jharkhand. This also includes the interiors with terrestrial connectivity worse than the jungles of Amazon. Anyway, it’s an experience of a lifetime. An account follows.
- Every address has ‘Near Hanuman Mandir’ on it. I wonder how many fans does the H-Man have in Jharkhand!
- I’ve come across incredibly innovative spellings and grammar. “Please your on laggage”!!!!!
- I have been sneezed and coughed upon in the face so many times now that I’m looking forward to being spitted upon – the Holy Grail.
- I have peed in the most unhygienic of places, sometimes after climbing hillocks of garbage!
- I have travelled in the most ‘rocking’ of vehicles – the desi version of Disneyland swings. My spinal cord seems wrecked for eternity.
- I met a person called ‘Birbal’ for the first time in my life.
- I have grown fond of Sattu – the desi Gatorade.
- The dust on the roads and places named Telmocho, Chas and Tipudana give me the feel of Latin America.
- I have pissed off a sales officer so bad that he has asked me not to call him up ever again.
- I have travelled in an auto-rickshaw without headlights on streets with no light whatsoever at eight in the evening in thunder, storm and rain. Talk about blind trust!
- I have come across a dilapidated hut named ‘Indian School of Learning’ that guarantees ‘100% placement’.
Half of this period has been spent in Ranchi. For people never been to the place, it is merely a newfangled capital of a newfangled underdeveloped tribal state. But the exponential rate of “development” has led to explosions – of population, traffic, pollution and noise. An account follows.
You know you are in Ranchi when:
- The roads are narrower than Keira Knightley’s waist: far worse than the by-lanes of Jamshedpur.
- You find no traffic lights but traffic police on squares in 2010!
- The traffic is excruciating for the size of the roads.
- All school buses are yellow in colour and are the biggest culprits in traffic jams.
- Stuck in a jam, if A is behind B and B is behind C, all three are honking at the same time.
- In a jam, if you don’t stick the nose of your vehicle up the ass of the one ahead, some vehicle is bound to cross the road from the gap in between.
- The rickshaws turn at ninety degrees without a whisker of a signal.
- Bumpers and potholes included, there are more speed breakers on the road than the rest of India combined.
- There is no civic sense – AT ALL!!!!
- There are no dustbins – AT ALL!!!!
- You find a lassi hawker everywhere. Fortunately, the town is a sucker for it.
- The favourite evening snack is Chinese food, especially rolls and momos. The extent of craze makes one wonder if it was once a Chinese colony!
- If you are on the opposite side of the road to Big Bazaar, you have to drive for 2 kilometres to come back to mall’s side of the road.
- Big Bazaar is a big big sham. It takes less time to shop there than to cross the road at 10 in the morning.
- The service in restaurants is abysmal and is not a function of prices charged.