Neuro-Rhythm

Hey people,

I've moved to WordPress. So, Kachuism is taking a break but Neuro-Rhythm is moving at the rate of one post per week. Hope you enjoy the read: http://neurorhythm.wordpress.com/

Cheers!
Kachu

A Letter to My Facebook Friends: Happy 2011!

                          

Dear facebook friends,

This is to my hidden friends (yes the applications got to me!), unhidden friends, friends I’ve gotten hidden by, blocked (ex) friends, unblocked friends, (ex) friends I’ve gotten blocked by.

I look forward to another year of snooping through your albums (if permitted by your privacy settings), allowing or disallowing you to snoop through mine (ha! my privacy settings!), tagging you in silly pictures, getting tagged by you in some random pictures (that I don’t feature in) and having to face the aftermath (hundred notifications following the hundred comments on the picture), staring at you when you come online while you stare at me when I come online (I understand. It’s telepathy. I feel the “Hi”), reading your boring, entertaining, witty, far-from-wit, philosophical, educational, copy-pasted status messages as well as your make-up, break-up and married statuses, and finally laughing my guts out at the hilarious videos you share.

I look forward to more additions to my friends list, especially from people who have refused to acknowledge me in the past, don’t acknowledge me when I stand right in front of them, and who plan to continue to not acknowledge me in future. The previous statement also implies that I’ll have a long “pending friends” list. (I know you have one too smartass!).

I am glad all of you have moved on to pursue better opportunities. Thanks to facebook, I know your location only if you are abroad. To the ones stuck here, don’t worry you will get the opportunity to disclose your location someday.

So, here is to another year of staring at the screen hoping to see a red notification bubble appear on the top left corner! Wish you guys a marvelous New Year!

Love
Kachu

Say it Right

Last evening I was watching an Australian channel with my family. The episode was about an Australia-settled Indian. She talked about her life in Australia and also about her participation in the Christmas parade. Somewhere toward the end of the episode my father remarked “Her vocabulary is good but her grammar is very poor.” My sister wasn’t too happy either – “She speaks weirdly!” referring to her accent. This got me thinking– "We are so bloody critical of our countrymen." We are not an English speaking country and I don’t see why it is important that we know the language to the T.


The Germans, the Japanese, the Italians, the Chinese, the Mexicans, the French (the list doesn’t end) have their own glitches when speaking the English language. But we Indians are very accepting of their goof ups. In most cases we find their accent sexy and their speech flattering. But if an Indian dare goof up, he is bound to be the butt of all jokes. (No wonder we are a bunch of insecure fools.)


Anyway, I put these points forth and argued fiercely with my dad. Mum was on my side. But later, dad said something that forced me to switch sides. He said that when a French man talks, he’s more interested in expressing himself so, he concentrates on what he says. But when an Indian talks, he focuses on how well he is speaking it. Believe me, I couldn’t agree more. I remember having met two Germans, who knew just enough English to get their work done. They initiated every conversation in their thick German accent and were very entertaining guests. The best part was to see them so comfortable in their own skin. On the other hand, a suburban Mumbai lad would be really worried if he had to speak in English for as less as two minutes in front of a South Mumbai crowd. Yes, he would indeed focus on how he is speaking it.


It is not uncommon to observe ourselves, our friends, our colleagues trying to get the accent right or get the pronunciation right or trying to use the right words when constructing a sentence. If a person deviates from the more commonly known pronunciation, we are quick to point it out– “What’s with the accent?” Each time a word flows out of an Indian’s mouth, it sounds different. Sometimes it sounds American, sometimes it sounds British, and the smart asses like the authentic French pronunciations. For instance, a word as simple as “restaurant” has umpteen peculiar pronunciations in the Indian social circle. Naturally, next time I use it, I’ll be thinking to myself “Did I say it right?”


The confusion explains an Indian’s obsession with foreign accents. The good part, however, is that a foreign accent (of an English speaking country) standardizes the pronunciations and stabilizes our language. So, I guess, you need not be too hard on people who walk in with an accent. Although, very often they walk in with an accent so unusual that it’s impossible to trace it back to the place they returned from. In such cases, going abroad has only added to the language confusion.


One Indian criticizing another Indian’s English speaking skills is typical Indian. It’s like arguing over something that is not ours to begin with. In my opinion, we speak the “Indian English” and it is not something to be ashamed of. The goal of a conversation is not to get the language right but to get the message across. We are not short of well spoken men who are an insult to communication. But yes, we are short of not-so-well-spoken men who believe they can pull a conversation through.

The Glorious Misery

I am miserable. So are you. We often share our stories with each other. Infact, we share it with a lot of people. But my life is always more miserable than everyone else’s. I can dig through my past and present to you a series of hardships that I’ve been through. Sure, you’ve had a hard life too but can you imagine being in my shoes?

Somewhere I know…I know I won’t let myself forget the past. Not because I don’t like being happy but because my misery brings glory to my success. Sometimes I will fail and raise my finger at my misery. But, once again, I will promise myself “I am going to be happy.” Then, someone will stop by and blather about their miserable life. They will cry, whine and grumble and force me to break my silence “Friend, my misery is more glorious than yours!”

I know I will never be happy if I look back at that drug, that addictive depressing past that I love to brag about. Yes, it feels good to brag about my misery. Embraced in self pity, it feels good to weep and lose myself while some “concerned” souls try to “help” me. But the “help” will never help for I don’t want it to help.

I am all about “what I was”. I know it is the “I am” that matters... “I am” to the point that “I was” ceases to exist. I am happy.

Testing your appetite

Once upon a time a six inches subway sandwich could satiate a common man’s hunger. Today he has to make do with three slices of tomatoes and three slices of cucumber (irrespective of the size), on a thin sheet of lettuce with a few strands of onions, one black olive- sliced and distributed to give an illusion of generosity- two slices of pickle, two slices of jalapeno with sauces used as adhesives to glue the ends of the shrunken bread. Each ‘wide mouth’ bite of the sub was once a task. Today, he gobbles it down with ease and calls for another six inches.

McD was a disaster from day one. Two slices of bread, a cutlet, some mayo and if you get lucky, half a leaf - this clearly does not qualify as a burger. Wondering how I forgot to mention the cheese? Here’s the thing - if you want cheese with your burger, ask for it! (Yes, this is beyond ridiculous.) Burgers have cheese! Period! Put the cheese back in, you fool!

Pizzas -What a rip off! The average Indian appetite cannot be held responsible for the reduction in the radii from an 8” to a 7”, from a 10” to a 9”. That aside, pizza was once about bread generously showered with meat, vegetables and loads of cheese. Today, it’s about bread with two 1cm³ pieces of meat and vegetables per triangular slice covered with a thin film of cheese.

Let’s not get into the miniature scoops of ice-cream sold across the parlours or the ‘single gulp’ glasses next to the coffee machines or the ‘four morsels’ cups of hot corn outside the theatre.

Don’t test our appetite!

The Lyricist

No, I wasn’t bored over the weekend. I was just being my creative old self. I’d been contemplating writing a song for ages and had a feeling - “Today is the day!” - although I didn’t know where to begin.

I have always been of the opinion that love songs are the easiest to write. You just got to keep the key words in mind – love, heart, soul, ‘The One’ – you can then move on to describing the physical features - eyes, lips, hair – and stick to the following adjective while doing so – beautiful - and don’t forget to compare it to the sun, moon and stars but if it’s a woman you are talking about, striking a comparison with sweet smelling flowers is advisable.

Although I tried to fill in the blanks, I came to a conclusion that it was either difficult to get creative with love or I was plain unromantic.

For a while, I played around with the idea of writing lyrics for a rap. “Anyone can Rap!”. I figured that I could read two pages of Computer Applications Edition 3, at lightening fast speed, and the world would never guess what I'd blabbed. If this track ever made it to the US Top 20, I could rant about my ‘troubled’ childhood and ‘more or less accustomed to trouble’ engineering life in my interviews.

Proud to have sketched a great career in rapping, I thought of experimenting with a new genre – Metal. I was glad that this was going to be bloody easy ‘cause I could continue to read the next few pages of Computer Applications Edition 3. I knew how my song was going to take shape…

*Crazy beats*

Mumbling…mumbling… (Pg. 125 1st and 2nd paragraph)

*Crazier beats*

Mumbling faster…mumbling much faster…got a bad throat (cough cough).. (Pg. 126 3rd paragraph P.T.O. - Pg. 127)

* ‘I have no idea whom I’m bludgeoning’ beats *

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…. (Scream: 15 seconds)

Now that’s a master piece!

Having read enough about computers, I knew it was time to write. This time I picked Hip Hop as my basis. This is how the lyrics go…

#$@@#*& @#$!&&* @##*@  shawty

$#@##$*&& @#$!#$% ^#%&&  party

@#$!#$% ^#%&& #$@@#  booty

#$*&& @#$!#$% @##*@&%  body

Aren’t you amazed how the Hip Hop clan manages to rhyme party with body!




P.S.: Tu tu tu.. tu tu tara in the making…

The Constitution

Let’s take the story of the hare and the tortoise. The two have a race. The hare, assuming it’s a clear win, takes the liberty to rest his tired self halfway. In the mean time, the tortoise overtakes him and wins the race.

What did you learn? : Slow and steady wins the race.
What did I learn? : Never underestimate your opponent.
What did Alpha learn? : Both.
What did Beta learn? : He couldn’t care less about the story.

I wonder -“What changes would I make had I been the tortoise? I’d definitely not have a running race with the hare. Instead, I’d have a car race.”
You wonder- “What changes would I make had I been the hare? I’d probably carry some glucose water along to ensure I don’t get tired or feel sleepy half way through the race.”

Each experience teaches you many things. However, you may or may not learn the lessons that you are expected to learn.

When you claim that you’ve learnt from a story, I believe you but when you claim that you’ve learnt what was taught, I don’t. What you learn is not necessarily what the author intended to teach. What you absorb is not what the author wanted you to grasp.

A million people read holy books and believe that it has enlightened them. When they say -“I’ve learnt to live.”- I believe them. When they say -“This is what God intended to teach us.”- I don’t.

When someone abuses your country, you are bound to defend it fiercely. When someone abuses your state, you try to put theirs down. When someone abuses your religion, you pounce back at them. When someone abuses your family you put up a tough fight. When someone abuses you, you abuse back. This is patriotism at different levels. The defense mechanisms are different for different people.

If you learn that your country’s law prohibits you from smoking weed, you refrain from the ‘wrong doing’. However, this does not make it a global ‘wrong doing’. If you move out of your country, it may no more be a ‘wrong deed’. Of course, you’ll be trapped in another set of laws. Unfortunately, laws are far more rigid than Holy Scriptures.

The fear of God can force a man to behave like a human being but so can the consequences of breaking law.

The Holy Scriptures at least give you a choice. For some reason, people are just too scared to choose. Again, the book was written with an intension to teach. What you learn has a one in a million chance of mapping to the original intention. Yes, it is baffling but true that each of the million people has learnt something different. They would like to believe that their thoughts are concurrent and bound to ‘One’ but the truth remains- ‘To each, his own.’

Does that make you wonder what keeps them from crossing the boundaries, reading new scriptures and learning more? Well, every constitution cleverly binds you to it whether it is the constitution of your country or that of your religion. While your country keeps you from blending into this beautiful world, your religion keeps you from blending into nature’s intelligence. Both keep you from experiencing the brilliance of ‘No Limitations’. It is the fear of the consequences- paying for your sins like a criminal does- that keeps you from moving beyond it.

Similarly, if alcohol is banned in one state it is ‘wrong’ to be consuming it in that state. It is not wrong to be doing so in another.

Just like the country, state and religion binds you, so does family. The head decides what’s right and what’s wrong and you are expected to abide by the rules. If the rules say that you must be home before 10:00 p.m., you are expected to follow it. What forces you to stick to the rules? It is the fear that if you reach home late, you will be punished - ‘pay for your sins’. This does not imply that if the neighbours kids turn up at 1:00 a.m. they are doing ‘wrong’. It is just that they are a part of an altogether different constitution.

In this manner you throw yourself into a slot, within a slot, within yet another slot, and so on, where each slot has its own set of rules and regulations. To comfort ourselves we call it rich culture, traditions, wisdom, morals, and so on. We carry the ‘teaching’ forward so that our children may ‘learn’ from it.

Man - an accumulation of inherited beliefs, borrowed philosophy and imposed behavior.

Trapped!

P.S.: So, what did you learn today?

Perception

You will tell me about your perception of life and I will tell you mine. We’ll argue over it for a while. If you don’t manage to convince me, I will continue to live with my perception of life. If you manage to convince me, I will begin living with your perception of life.

While descending the timeline, I will meet new people and have similar arguments with them. I’ll read a number of books and learn more about different perceptions. Again, based on whether I am convinced or not, based on whether I am impressed or not, I will switch, modify, or strengthen my perception. If I strengthen my perception, I will label it ‘Experience’.

Similarly, I will have my own perception of a certain person, God, religion, right, wrong, good, bad, beauty, peace, wisdom and almost anything abstract, which practically includes everything. I will spend a major part of my life debating over what the ‘right’, ‘convenient’ or ‘acceptable’ perception is and at the same time I will aggressively fight for my perception to be accepted, even better, applauded. I will, almost always refrain from changing my perception.

I might, at some point, realize that all of this is just a perception and is as abstract and insignificant as it sounds. Then on, I will not feel the need to discuss life, death and God but observe life, accept death and create my masterpiece- God!

Skinny Ol' Me

I think you look beautiful. You think you look ugly. That’s not my fault.
Girl, you can call me a ‘candle stick’ a million times over but that won’t make you any slimmer.

I have to appreciate a group of strangers going “kabristaan se uthke aayi hai!” (Right out of the grave aka ‘skeleton’.) and my friends going “sahi lag rahi hai” (looking good.) with equal aplomb.

I am every auntie’s delight! “Before marriage even I was sukdi (skinny) like you!” (You wish!)
Some treat me like a live specimen while explaining to their little kids “Beta, khana nahi khaoge toh didi ke taraha ban jaoge!” (Son, if you don't eat well you'll look like this girl!)

Women stare at me on local trains. Some kind ones come forth to compliment “Great height! How tall? ” The more concerned lot rants diet plans “Have bananas and milk and dates and butter and ghee and oil and…” (LOO…keep your doors open!)
Some diagnose- “You eat a lot of chilies na? That is why you are so thin!”

My class boys feared I’d fly away if they switched the fan on. They ensured I had enough heavy objects around to keep me anchored. A few others thought I resembled a hanger. A good friend told me I looked like a supermodel.

I wished to piddle in peace; and the maids exclaimed “Aage bhi chapta, peeche bhi chapta!” (Aaah…that’s me piddling all over you!)

Short tops show off a little tummy. “ Kya dikha rahi hai!” – This comment made me cross examine whether or not I had any clothes on.
“Kamar hi nahi hai!”- Loud and clear thrown at me by two men holding their pinkies and swinging their hands gleefully.

Some exclaim “You got a flat tummy man! I gotta start working out!”

Some hug me- “I can wrap my hand around you twice!”

The hair dresser says  “All your nutrition has gone into your hair!”

The old men believe I am too skinny to find an eligible bachelor. “Boys don’t like thin girls!” (Or did he mean I am not eligible to be on the cover of a playboy magazine?!)

Mom thinks “You are made for the Paris ramp! Miss Size zero!” (Mothers, I tell you!)
I discover - Size zero models are banned on the Paris ramp!

Guess what “You are size -1!”

Photographer during a group photo-“Madam you are long! Sit on stool!”

The very sight of me makes my friend’s cousins run away. “Six foot didi!” (Boogie man! Aaaah boogie man!)

The crones back in kerala exclaim “paavam” (poor thing) as though I am a result of a genetic mutation, as opposed to the larger, well rounded “sundari” mallu women.

My school teacher thought I’d be perfect for the role of an old withered woman. Apparently “You look old and thin.”

I am fondly known as bag of bones. Some say I am bones and skin. Some say I am painted bones. Some believe my college Zoology department wasted money on the skeleton since I could have very well stood in the plastic cubicle myself.

My juniors thought I looked like a man
A friend said “You look like a stud!” (I took that as a compliment.)

The mass’s favorite -“Sukha bombil!” (Stinks but delicious! Of course that’s far from the point!)

Then there is sui (needle), dhaga( thread), toothpick, match stick, lakdi (stick), stick insect, grasshopper, giraffe, palm tree, coconut tree etc.

PJ time: If I stand next to a pole, what will my friends say?

“Spot the difference!”

Handsome?!

If you were a handsome guy standing at the bar…

· with a beer mug in one hand
· with your i-phone in the other
· with your ‘fancy car’ keys in your pocket
· with your crisp white shirt buttons open just the right amount, to show off that perfectly toned chest, that would keep a woman guessing what the abs looked like
· with ‘made to measurement’ faded denims which continued up to your branded black foot ware that tapped to the beats of crazy remixes
· with skillfully chiseled nose and a naughty lopsided smile
· with jet black, ‘two drinks down’ intoxicated eyes fixed on me as I moved through the crowd, checking me out from top to bottom …

I’d be more than happy!!

But since you look worse than my driver; are standing at the chaiwala along with other ugly, hairy, shapeless men; smirking and throwing risque remarks my way-

“Ghar pe maa behen nahi hai kya?!!”

Caught The Bluff

The women around me haven’t turned any whiter, their hair any silkier, their skin any more glossy, their pimples any less ugly, their teeth (fortunately) don’t project light and well the bad news is – their underarms still smell!

The same applies to the men; the bad news being - flocks of women aren’t running after them, probably because of the non-AXEistent... oops non-existent effect; the good news being – “Since the women haven’t gotten any prettier anyway, why have them run after us?!”

The kids haven’t grown any taller, stronger and definitely not any sharper. Since ’Daag achhe hain’ my neighbours have stopped trying to get the stains off their kids’ clothes; all they do is dip the clothes in a bucket of water, add some detergent and then pray.

The other kids are too busy feeding crocodiles chocolates, in search of a new pet, to really bother about clothes.

I still see crowfeet, dark circles and a few new lines here and there on the exploited faces of the 40 pluses. No amount of colouring can hide their gray roots.

Irrespective of what age group you belong to, if you own a mobile and have tried the ‘Walk while you Talk’ mantra you have obviously experienced this- ‘Irrespective of whether the network follows or not, the dogs will always follow you!’

Sojourn 09

Sojourn ’09…

That some are liars does not surprise me; it is how often and easily they lie that does.
That some are cheaters does not alarm me; it is how tactfully and efficiently they cheat that is alarming.

I have organized a number of events earlier, small ones though, but Sojourn has been the most interesting. The best part about it was interacting with so many people, the honest ones, the bossy ones, the big mouths, the cheats, the most dependable, the unreliable, the scared, the fearless and ones who pop out of nowhere to help you out.


I have always found people amusing. (That should explain why I am mute… just can’t get my eyes off them!) Sojourn served as a platform for me to interact with a numerous people (can still hear my phone ring). Here, I couldn’t afford to keep quiet. I had to make sure I was listening keenly and also make sure that I was being heard.

Unfortunately for us, we were greeted by an Anti-Council undercurrent which did retard our growth to some extent. We had a lot of ‘connecting the dots’ to do before forming the complete picture.


People O’ People


I came across the lazy ones who need to be kicked to get work done. I came across the lazy ones who love to kick the other lazy ones to get some work done.

Some liked to be directed. Some found their way out. Some took ages to get the work done. Some dedicated ones did the work right away. Some didn’t work.

Like every organization there were a few who were victims of favouritism and partiality.

Then, I came across the ones who love to teach, and more often, across the ones who love to preach.

I bumped into the drama queens off n’ on, and the ones who lie through their teeth, and also the “I think it should be like this...” kinds.

The funny ones were those who, so obviously lacked wit, had nothing but abuses in their defense, no matter what the argument. Favourite one” This is Bullshit!” (Glad you can distinguish between horseshit and bullshit.)

I say:” Shove the bullshit up your ass Sweety that should ensure you shut up and behave!”

A handful of people wasted their time telling me how they’d love to help me out with the stuff and all the new things they’ve been thinking of implementing. My reaction:” Stop talking!”As expected, they didn’t lift a finger.

The most annoying was the lot which was scared to experiment, try something new and unusual. They inevitably chose to tread the beaten track and ruined the excitement, for me at least.

You know what the worst part about being on a post like this is? It is when a ‘good for nothing’ tells you that your opinion doesn’t matter.

I say:” I didn’t slog my ass off for some God forsaken entity, who surprisingly has the audacity, to tell me that my opinion doesn’t matter!”


Ex Council Members


When I say lack of experimentation this is what I mean-
Ex: We did it like this and this is how it is supposed to be done.
Current: This is how they did it so we should do it like this.

Worst part, Ex coming and telling you “I’ve been there, done that, and this is not how it is done.”

I say:” You did it your way. Now I do it mine.”

Guys, suggestions are always accepted and considered. Please, keep the sermons to yourselves.

Very few Exs knew what they were talking and could really direct us. Sincere thanks to them for their guidance.


BE (Final Year Students)


Just a handful of irrational, moody, interfering and selfish BEs is more than sufficient to agitate the remaining BEs and give you a tough time. Inspite of being in the last year myself, I conclude that we BEs have the least regard for time, consideration for our juniors and least amount of respect for the ones who strive hard to put an act together.

With their ‘Chalega’ attitude, their ‘adult arrogance’ and their egos riding high on seniority- “How dare you talk to your seniors like that?” Typical! Poor juniors!

Then I discovered a few extremely talented BEs who didn’t mind sharing some wisdom with their juniors. They also went ahead and trained them. We also had a few surprise packages and splendid performances.

It is weird, this junior-senior drama. Our BEs made sure that their performances were BE dominated but at the end of the day, our talented pass-outs seem to have got caught in the rut of ‘Self Promotion’.

I failed at this point. I tried to create opportunity for the students of the college to whom the show belongs, but the Alumni - ones who have been there, done that, managed to trickle in (no prizes for guessing how) depriving the fresh talent.


Audience


One word- ROCKED!!


Lesson


The one lesson I learnt from all of this-I learnt to TRUST.I talked about those unreliable personalities, remember? Well if you are in a fix and have assigned them a job,

TRUST them – they’ll leave it undone!


Overused word: Bullshit
Underused word: Thanks
Never used: Sorry

To hell with everything that went wrong.

Million thanks to everything that went right.


Thank you

This goes out to-The people who were at the right place at the right time doing the right thing.

The ones who did not have the guts to speak up when circumstances were being unfair yet stood by my side in silent support. Believe me that helped!

This one goes out to everybody who tried to ruin it for us-
F***K YOU!!!

CHARACTERLESS?

She wants to be used. She asks for it. We use her. We throw her. It doesn’t make a difference to her. She is characterless. Now if somebody, so readily, displays their desire to be used; why would we hesitate? She likes it and we don’t mind it. There is no guilt involved ‘cause we are giving the woman what she wants. We don’t treat good girls from good families like this. We don’t talk about our female friends like this. We respect respectable women.

That’s a man talking.

Most women would agree with the men in this respect. She is a shameless woman, she deserves it. Alright, maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t; but that’s not the point.

The fact that a woman wants to be used, talks about her character. Whether or not you use her, talks about your character!

Like my father asked me once- “You see the door. You see the keyhole. Would you look through it or would you walk away?” It tells you how the magnitude of self control defines your character.

Well, another question that is asked often is- “If you saw a Rs.100 note on the road, would you pick it up?”
Some would pick it up- Why not?
Some would pick it up and leave it in a temple- Fair enough.
Some would just leave it there- Not mine!

When it comes to treating women, or people in general, most of us would use them.
Extremely rare but not an impossible scenario where some great fellow would go out of his way to lead her to the right path.
Leaving her there, letting her be what she wants to be and respecting her just like he respects other women in his life; now that’s a Man!

Those Boring Days

You know, those days, when you are seriously bored and you don’t want to go out with friends, no matter how much they force you to? You sit back and think -"Aah same old stuff, meet up, go to the restaurant, pounce on your food, get a little tipsy, same old gossip ;what fun? Aah not fun!" Yes, that’s the very day they have a wonderful time! And yes, without you!

You sit at home and flip the pages of your book. You are planning to study. You stare at your book and guess what, the book stares back at you. Still wondering, "I guess I did the right thing. I have to study. Got to work on my project, my assignments…Oh I should have attended the party! No…no…I didn’t really feel like going! Hell! They must be having a nice time! Or may be not? Same old stuff…grr concentrate!"

"I don’t wanna come cause I am bored." -what kind of an excuse is that? Study or no study, at one point you were wishing that they gave you just one last call and that’s it, you’d throw your boredom away. You’d rather get bored with your friends.

Next day you discover they’ve had a ball! Makes you sick in the stomach! Yet when they ask, "Why didn’t you come? It was so much fun." You say, "I didn’t feel like it!"
"I missed it! Big Deal! I wouldn’t have enjoyed anyway!" Oh alright, saying that just makes you feel better!

Then there are those days when you are bored. Again! You give your cell phone those intense looks and go- "Call me damn it!" ; and not a purr!

THE PINCH OF FAILURE

Along the path of neutral, over tiny bumps of pleasure and little potholes of sorrow, I walk. Occasionally, I climb over the hillocks of triumph and often fall into pits of failure; the pits so deep.

Down in the ditch I sit and wait disheartened, dejected and depressed. My shriveled soul sits and mourns. Yet, I don’t call for help. I believe that nothing in this world can make me feel better again. With my mind still debating over the existence and non-existence of God; I have lost faith in the system. I have certainly lost faith in myself.

I look up at the opening; the opening I conveniently ignored; the opening I was pushed into by circumstances. Yes, blame it on the circumstances. People peep into the ditch. Some with a smirk on their faces, some expressionless, some laugh, happy with themselves or are they laughing at me?

Deep down there I lie wishing the world’s gazes don’t set me ablaze. “I don’t need sympathy”- I assure myself. I want the world to end. The base keeps eroding. The pit gets deeper and deeper. I wait, soaked in a pool of tears for someone, something to somehow get me out. I wait. I mourn.

When failure pinches hard, I just- Fail!

BONDING WITH FRIENDS

It’s interesting how friends bond over a gulp of water left in one friend’s gym bag, some chewing gum flicked from another friend’s left pocket, and some utterly useless conversations like- “Who was which animal in their past life.”

You laugh. You laugh so hard that your eyeballs pop out. Then follows a silence, just enough to fill your lungs with some air before you burst into another riot of laughter.
It’s amusing to know that everyone is as bored as you are on a particular day. That is enough reason to meet up. So, you shamelessly invite yourselves to your friend’s place. Each one grabs a corner, wriggles into their comfort zones while the host tries hard to make some place for himself.

You warm your seats for hours together, refusing to lift a finger, avoiding visits to the loo lest your seat be taken. Here, you spend time observing each other’s physical attributes and ‘vital stats’ is not one of them. So, you sit and count the number of pimples on one friend’s face, note the receding hairline of another friend. Right from who has more hair on their legs to who’s got a bigger paunch, from the smallest butt to the loudest fart, it has all been carefully observed and discussed in detail.

Birthdays play a very important role in friendship because here you bond over cakes. Delicious cakes!

Well, it’s about to hit 12:00 am in another ten minutes but you don’t care. The Jing-Bang turns up at the birthday boy’s place at 1:00 am without a cake, as usual. Since, he knows that it is foolish to expect cake and presents, he buys one himself. He opens the cake box then goes in to fetch a knife and candle. When he returns, the cherries are gone, the chocolate flakes have disappeared and someone’s already tasted the cream. He doesn’t bother. He just lights the candle. The lights are switched off. One friend blows the candle, the other cuts the cake while the birthday boy claps his hands and sings the birthday song. Yes, that evening he gives you a treat too.

The late nights that involve lighting candles in the church, celebrating every party like it’s new years, long drives, mid-night ice-creams, watching movies up to 3:00 am and later caring to play stupid board games. Thanks to Maggi noodles, quick and filling, for keeping you alive through these nights.

Cheers!

P.S: This one is dedicated to apna building ka public with a lot of love.

FLYING HIGH

High on four bottles of beer or riding high on winning the much coveted trophy of the season; I plunge into minutes of eternal bliss .I am surrounded by amplified sounds, magnified pictures, eye-stinging bright colours and the yelp of joy which resonates throughout my body. I turn deaf, dumb and blind. Flying high, so high, I don’t see the ground. The existence or non- existence of my roots don’t bother me.

High on the gazes that follow me along the street! Good or Bad. High on hope! High on the music, that transforms my mind while my soul undergoes metamorphosis. High on food that mesmerizes me with its smell and captures my taste buds with its flavour. Intoxicated by the scent of the flowers and the sight of the butterflies, who seem equally intoxicated!

High on the praises thrown at me from all directions! High on all the smiles I receive for being what I am. High on the prayers I offer, for myself and the world around me. High on meditation!
High on top of a mountain where I interact with the clouds, rains and hailstorms! Sitting high on top of heaps of cash and gold!

High on positive vibes generated by my team-mates seconds before a match! High on negativity generated by my addicted peers!

High on life!