New and Improved

As most of you might already know, by any standards, I’m considered quite a catch.

I mean, what's not to like? I look like an ugly guy. I’m a terrific liar. I have the worst memory you will ever see in a non-retard. I hate making, answering or returning calls. I have an opinion on almost everything I know and an even stronger one on those which I don’t know. I can’t sing, dance or do any of the things that most females do. And, now I have yet another priceless virtue to add to my cap. I’m a certifiable schizophrenic.

There’s just no explanation for the way I’m currently acting. My ‘to-do’ list is four pages (single spaced, both sides) and counting. Yet, I won’t do anything about it. Instead, I’ve been lazing around all month long – listening to Pink Floyd, watching Sex and the City, reading Lolita and taking midnight showers. Oh and the day before last, I karaoked and danced. Willingly! I even agreed to go out for dinner and drinks with some guys from work.

See? The real me wouldn’t do any of these. Okay, I’d do Floyd but never like a crazed maniac. And I would have never have been caught dead watching Sex and the City. My god, I still don’t get why anyone would want to cast Sarah Jessica Parker as the lead in anything. (This is the former me speaking err... writing) The new me watches her anyway. Lolita – now that’s something I would have read. But my reaction to the book is again very unlike me. I found it more intriguing and yes, arousing than repulsive and repugnant which essentially means that something is very wrong. The dinner is among all these, the only thing I’m glad to be doing. But having said that, I’m gonna puke if any one as much as says “alco.”

Ironically, my mum, being cunning in a way that only mothers can be, is one of the only to immediately identify this change. She has been using it to her advantage rather unashamedly. In case I forgot to say, the new version (me 1.1) is rather meek. So, just the other day, she almost got me to sign up for the frigging Army. I know. WTF rt?!She even got the application and everything. Post the recent happenings in Mumbai, that is one very pissed off woman. I hope for my sake, that they get those b******* extradited from Pak and soon. Because, yesterday, she slyly enquired about my thoughts on the ideal age of marriage for the modern woman. I said never. She smiled. It was uncanny to another smile I got last year when she enquired about my thoughts on joining Shaw. Guess what? I said, never. And that was when she smiled that smile. That creature is seriously freaking out both versions of me. But then again, I’m not too worried. Because me (1.1) is always upbeat, so upbeat that I'm beginning to think that I could kill someone in all my excitement.

And now, at the stroke of the midnight hour, I'm going to go take a shower. And then maybe watch some quality porn. Who knows? After the last two weeks, I wouldn't be suprised if I actually did it.

How the mighty fall...!

Since the day I started the blog, there hasn't been a single month that has passed by without me having published a post. Like most milestones in my life, the 100th post became the excuse I was looking for to call it a chapter. So, I vowed off writing for a couple of months, closed shop and decided to go underground. The latter was easy. The former is proving to be another story.

Never has my need to write been stronger than it is now. I can't begin to describe how its been for the past few days. Last year I thought, Cud took the cake for breaking her leg by falling off a sidewalk. I should have known better to think Psycho wouldn't compete. She did. And she won - hands and legs down, if I may add. Only, she has done a hell lot more than break her leg. She suffered multiple injuries to her leg and arm in some freak accident by actually plummeting into the space between a platform and a running train.

I've pondered and wondered and finally speculated extensively about the "how's" of it in a variety of angles and scenarios. I can't. My imagination fails me. Never having been too crazy about modesty, I'm sure Psycho is just waiting to show off to everybody how, even in her fall, she stuck to her guns and defied gravity, death and logic, all at once.

Those of you who have ever been a part of a gang will know how its like. If you have say, five people in it, you do everything: book movie tickets, make restaurant reservations, send sms', remember birthdays, shop for things, collect contributions, divide expenses, all in fives. Eventually, it'll come as naturally to you as the count of the plates you'd set at home for dinner.

But not unlike many relationships, ours started showing its cracks. We all got so comfy with each other that we got complacent. We passed out of college with an assurance that nothing would change. But the truth was that nothing remained the same. We had become so cocky that we didn't bother with even common courtesies like calling or meeting anymore. To cut a long story short, we got lulled into living our lives and we simply started taking each other for granted.

Nevertheless, life has a funny way of shaking you out of your reverie. The accident did more than just make a point. It has driven me stark raving mad. Blessed as I am with the capacity to think only good thoughts, I don't think I've ever (other than for mum & dad) prayed, feared or worried for anyone as much as I've done in the past few days for this crazy kid. While she's around, she's always irritating the heck out of me and yet, for all that, I can't think of a single thing I wouldn't do if it would make her hurt just a lil lesser or get her to feel a bit better.

I wonder...

I wonder...

1. Why I went out with a married man.

2. What I'll do after The Firm.

3. Whether its wrong to dislike a person because they employ a 12 year old kid to do their chores.

4. Why people always assume I'm a northie.

5. How girls my age don't fear marriage.

6. Why being single and/or vegetarian is so unacceptable anymore.

7. If I'll ever have enough money to do Philanthropy.

8. Why I feel so alone no matter who I'm with or where I go.

9. When my hidden talent will surface.

10. Why I keep thinking of all the lies that will be revealed after I die.

Come what 'may'

Okay, first the bad news. I didn't make TISS. How bad do I feel about it? Not much. My ego is wounded but that's about it. I feel a little sorry for Dad, he had hopes. For some unknown reason, he still likes to believe I'm IIM material. Sad. For me, it was never even about the course or the place. It was simply about whether I would be able to make the cut. I didn't. No excuses. No regrets. But a tip for someone who wants to make TISS - if they offer to give you admission without the hostel seat, please say YES!

Moving on to the good news. I got my final results last week. I did pretty good. Which means that as of today I'm a full fledged graduate, 'bachelors et all'. I have to admit, it makes for a satisfying thought.

Even other than that, the past two weeks have been immensely productive. I enrolled for that course in NALSAR. I hope to do it justice. And, I got my learner's license. Now I can officially prowl the streets of the city, road rage style. Also, I went to a Strings concert which was surprisingly good, considering that it was free for all. Most importantly, I met with my new doctor, a seriously cool guy. I have a feeling, its the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

That aside, on the occasion of our graduation, all of us - i.e the gang have worked out some predictions for our intended 10 year re-union. They will go here, as on record, for future reference.

Time : December 2018.
Place : My futuristic 'bungalow.'
People : The gang and their partners only (on account of my house being a kids free zone.)

Predictions :

Amen -

Profession - Stay at home mom.
Partner - A dress wearing, beard growing, conservative man of a serious disposition who has a thing for play acting in the bed room.
Kids - 4-5.
State of being - Content with wifely duties.

Jughead -

Profession - An advertising executive/ successful food critic.
Partner - A "healthy" rounded Chef whose love for food will match his love for Jughead and vice versa .
Kids - 2. Both adopted. An exotic looking girl from Africa and blue eyed boy from Britain.
State of being - Hungry.

Cud -

Profession - A hardcore journalist/lecturer/UN official.
Partner- Intelligence Op/Journalist/Banker, preferably artistic, eccentric and insensitive with a non-existant libido and a high ego quotient .
Kids - 1.
State of being - Indifferent.

Pyscho -

Profession - A teacher/erotic or romance writer with an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder coupled with a manic repressive disorder.
Partner - A Good looking, naxal/shady type, with the sensitivity of a little girl and a thing for all things filmy.
Kids - 2.
State of being - Pregnant and horny.

Mini -

Profession - Corporate snob.
Partner - Twice her age/ has a cute elder brother, dimpled and egoistic with an affinity for arrogance and a careless disregard for convention.
Kids - 1.
State of being - Comatose.

Au revoir amigo.

Assy's leaving. For real.

I am happy and proud. He's finally out of that miserable job and heading to do the thing he is best at. There are very few people that I have come across in my time who are as immensely talented as that guy and if anyone deserves that job in Dubai, its him. Besides I want him to go so that he'll also serve as a useful contact out there to smuggle back stuff for me.

On a more serious note, I can't help but feel sorry for myself. Amongst all the people I have in my life, he's the only one that I would call to talk to. I guess its because he's the only one with whom I've felt a kinship like I've never found with anyone else. I can't even count the number of nights that we whiled away discussing topics ranging from movies to books, games to earthworms, Godfather to Pink Panther, friends to lovers and everything in between.

It's never been a mushy or senti friendship, ours. Just a very close and simple one. And now he'll be gone. Sure, there'll be phones and e-mails and all the crap. Only it won't be enough. Not nearly enough. Because he'll no longer be able to call me at weird times in the night and demand that I entertain him. And I'll no longer get to message him at odd hours to describe some funny incident of my day. And I most certainly won't have anyone to address my male related queries to.

Dammit!

Why can't I trust easily like most normal people? Why do I have to hold out until I pick one person in a thousand and then bare my soul? Every time I make the unfortunate mistake of getting used to letting someone in, he has to go away. Not just to another city or state but to a country half way across the world.

It's happened so many times that one would expect that I'd have gotten immune to it by now. Somehow, I don't. It hurts just as much each and every time. This time though, I don't even know how to be feeling or more accurately, how to stop feeling.

PS : I want to be going away someplace too. But on second and a more selfish thought, will it even make a difference to anybody? Never mind. It sounds too much like looking for compliments more than a stray thought anyway.

Dirty little secret.

When a realization dawns, it’s a funny feeling. Kinda like déjà vu. Suddenly, everything falls into place and begins to make sense. Self realizations are even more so. They just sort of hit you out of the blue and nothing’s ever the same again. I had something like that happen to me today.

So you know how All American Rejects' “Dirty Little Secret” uses the Post Secret projectg. It has me hooked. In a nut shell, it’s a forum where people from all walks of life send across self-made post cards with their inner most secrets etched on them. Most of these send anonymously while others don't. Either which way, a majority of them are honest-to- god confessions and there in lay the appeal of the whole thing.

The thing that particularly interested me about it all is that these cards don’t talk about actions. They are about thoughts. What it translates into is that most of us are not as afraid of the things we’ve done so much as we are of the thoughts that we have thought. A lot of the times we build walls in our heads to keep from having to acknowledge the vileness of our thoughts so that we can sleep soundly at night, pretending they didn’t exist. Few have the courage to face up to the truth of their thoughts.

So, for the past few days, I’ve been wondering about the effectiveness of the whole project. Today, it occurred to me out of nowhere that it doesn’t matter. I’m not one of these select few and that, I prefer the self- delusional version of everything that concerns me to the factual one. Also, I think that whether we face up to them or not, secrets and confessions are best left to brew in the confines of the mind. That way they’ll never need be judged by another. 

A midwinter night's dream

I remember distinctly, this epiphanic moment in time when I went to Durgam Cheruvu ( the supposed secret lake) with a friend, on a serene winter night and talked about everything and nothing. We sat for a long time on a low wall with our feet dangling in the air, him facing the lake and me an office building, each remarking on the beauty of the sight that we were witnessing. His remark made sense. Mine didn't. I was looking at an ordinary high rise corporate building and was finding it as appealing as the splendid lake itself. I fumbled for an explanation, except I couldn't manage one. I was after all, supposed to be the big nature buff. So, I promptly changed the subject and let it go.

That is until I came back home and tucked in. I began running the scene in my head over and over until I understood it. I looked at those guys coming out of the building, chatting and laughing, enjoying a late night tea break and I had wanted to be a part of them. I saw a solitary figure working in one of the top floors who would occasionally glance out of a cozy dim lit cabin and I had wanted it to be mine. Simply, I wanted to be there, doing that, being them. It was as innocent as that. My utopian fantasy of the corporate world.

Now that I have an opportunity to be that, I don't know if I want it anymore. Between then and now, I've seen way too many people graduate from college with brilliant placement offers, big brand names and high pay packets only to find them, a couple of years later, burnt out and creatively dead. Sure, they are doing well for themselves and a few even like what they've become. But most are doing what they are because it is too hard to stop and start anew. More importantly because, its too hard to say no to the big name n the big bucks and go chasing after the big dream.

I don't blame them. Not everyone has a dream or the guts to go after it.Take for instance, me. I don't have either. However, what I do have is the knowledge that I can never be content to be in a place where I'll have to sell my soul to make a living. I won't ever want to be exorcised off it. Particularly, one as creative as mine. I want to do the thing that I'm best at, whatever that is. And I want everything else to orbit around that. Not vice versa.

Having said that, to all the people who've been trying to get me to stop thinking, I want to say "I hear". I realise, that it does not necessarily have to be an either/or situation. And, that I don't need to be mulling over issues as vital as these at this point of time in life. But I'm glad I did.

Now, I can take a decision. Unless, I go schizo, I'm going to be taking that job. Not because I'm still harbouring hopes of getting myself a lake-view-top-floor cabin. Or because I can't get myself to say no to the money. I'm going to take it simply because I just have to see for myself, a thing, before I write it off.

Things I learned in '07

1. I've turned into a total and irrevocable cyber junkie.

2. Dating can make you appreciate the beauty of an all-girls.

3. Eating out @ bankruptcy is essential for my state of being.

4. I contribute more to auto drivers anonymous than I do to CRY.

5. I have the worst sense of fashion this side of Asia.

6. Making an interview go exactly how you want it to go takes the fun out of getting the job.

7. All that about younger generations being smarter is fresh bull. Look at my juniors if you don't believe me.

8. Learning NOT to say no is still much harder than learning to say no.

9. Making out in a movie theater is an art that requires genuine talent, commitment and patience.

10. My Dad went to an IIM because my Mum challenged him to.

11. A giant clumsy oaf will tend to assume the grace of the Queen of England when standing next to me.

12. I'm as accommodating as an RTC bus after 7 p.m on a weekday during an auto-strike.

13. Guitars rust beautifully. Trust me. I know.

14. The level of my commitment to a cause is directly dependent upon enjoyment, desire, shame, money or vengeance. In any order.

15. There's nothing uglier than seeing 50 females wriggle on a dance floor. Nothing.

16. Its hard to lose something no body wants. If you know what I mean.

17. The last sip of beer tastes infinitely better than the first.

18. The life span of a mobile in my hands is at best, half a year and at worst..well, never mind.

19. Pandit S Khujrawalah hit it bulls eye. Arians are responsible for the best and worst things that happen to me.

20. Abdul Kalam is still my President. Madame President Tai can go _______.

21. I hope that the Bachchan family dies the way most narcissists normally do - severe case of overkill.

22. 90 hours of bus travel can cause serious physical and psychological trauma to sane creatures. Insane females on the other hand have fun. They play sleeping beauty.

23. Vegetarians and singletons are rapidly going extinct.Only, nobody's mourning the loss.

24. Addictive substances and artificial intoxicants bore me. Its the consumption of soft drinks that has exceeded a number beyond which I cannot count.

25. North India is filled with lecherous bastards.

26. The South with impotent idiots.

27. People don't take me seriously when I tell them that I'm going to die of Alzheimer's. They'll admit I was right. Only I won't remember.

28. Relationships can eventually fuck your happiness. On second thoughts, replace 'can' with 'will'.

29. Gambling professionally is going to be a big part of my life. Its in the blood.

30. Timid looking females can have a fetish for exotic underwear. That's right. Polka dots are supposedly in. For more on this subject, contact Tap.

31. Hips don't lie was a better track when I didn't know what it meant.

32. It is possible to have a real big crush on a guy simply because you happen to dig the way he writes. The fact the he has an adorable twin brother is of course, irrelevant.

33. One more black T-shirt is all that will take, to drive Ramlal (my dobhi) to go shopping for me. It ll happen soon enough. I'll wait.

34. Writing has become one of those things I could do reasonably well once upon a time but can't anymore.

35. The secret behind my success will never be any milk product. It will be pure & unadulterated jealousy.

36. The only way I'll ever run is if I'm being chased by eunuchs.

37. If Freud's interpretation of dreams is anything to go by, then I must be more sexually frustrated than all the Sisters of Charity put together.

38. The bloody yanks are abducting all my favorite people and making them believe that it is by their own free will. I hate them.

39.The best thing to gift your ex-boyfriend for his birthday is a Venus Fly trap. Or variations of it.

40. Listening to parent's romance is as gross as watching same sex porn.

41. You can break a bone by falling from a side walk.

42. Life without Spencer Reid is like life without Roddick - loveless.

43. Even Harry Potter can disappoint. Terribly.

44. Watching your bank balance bleed in transaction charges can do serious damage to your mental health.

45. If you wanna learn all about the various types of deaths and graves in a cemetery, ask Paul at St.Johns. Trust me, he knows his stuff.

46. Blue tooth is the best thing that happened to me since battery operated toothbrush.

47. Best friends are irreplaceable. Boyfriends are not.

48. You can't make relationships work. They either do or they don't. After a while, most don't.

49. Life always has delayed reactions to my plans.

50. Blogging is therapeutic to the blogger's psyche and terminal to the reader's life.

Inspired by Communicatrix and my genetically imbibed love for useless lists.