Project Prisonbreak

It was sometime around my birthday, I think, that we first started on `Project Prisonbreak' -- Aghori and I.  We had it all sorted. So what we would do is to hike up to the hills, spend two weeks at a bodhi-type retreat and wait for an out-of-body-experience to happen.  Then, we'd return with haloes and power glows (like Gandalf here, see?) and live happily ever after. 


Only, with us being so meticulous and all, we planned until autumn became monsoons, and monsoons became winter and we became bored.  So, then it was back to story boarding. "Definitely has to be the north man", "no, no, the north-east, its so pretty", "how about the west? it will be warm and all", "the south. Yup. God's own country!", "I got it dude, how about the southeast?" 
"Listen, this is not working out. We should be more realistic",  
"Hmmm. True, that."
" Okay, in that case, how about the Andamans. We don't even need a passport!", "Ooh, how about Srilanka, if it's safe?" "Dude, Nepal! Think about the monasteries", or "Bhutan?""Hey, Thailand sounds good no?" "Singapore?" "Air Asia does have some awesome offers." 
"What do you think?" 
"Lets do it!"
We thought they were all awesome. Them of our bank balances? Yeah, not so much.  So, did we even go somewhere? What kind of a moron are you?  Of course, we did!  The winner of Grouchy & Aghori's prison break destination -- Gapakapattana!  You don't look too impressed.  Maybe you didn't hear me right. Let's try again... "the pearl of the orient", " the tourists paradise", "the alcohol capital of India", -- Yes!!! The Kingdom of GOA by any other name. 


Now, I am not sure where we were exactly when the Go-to-Goa-get-drunk-get-laid passed us by (though I have a vague feeling) but let's say that particular rite of passage never happened to us.  Which, needless to say, caused us great angst and misery when girl-gangs and couples regaled us with tales of their Indian-Vegas experience. 
It was, by the by, at this point that post was supposed to have begun. You know, regaling you with all the things we saw,  the people we met, the things we did. 

You! Put that down this instant! No need for violence here, I am getting there.  Right ho, to the highlights of the trip then. Or maybe not just yet.  Behave children, remember, patience is a virtue. 

To be continued... 

Can I Do Friendship With You?

If I've been consistent about anything in my life in the recent years, two neatly labelled categories come to mind -- one, my memory, which has been steadily declining to the point where it is now on life-support, and two, my ever increasing reticence, which has mother so worried, she's considering asking the Art of Living Sri Sri fellow for help. I was going to write about how much demand he'd have in the rainbow parade, but then I'm not going to, because you know, he might decide to sue my penniless ass and because it's `insensitive' and of course, because of the aforementioned reticence thing that's going on.  

Anyway, my point is that Art of Living is a great way to make money. I mean I could become Shantaram, you know? Besides, what better way of living is there than to tell other people how to live their life? And get gifted a rolls for it. Hmmm. I don't know why I never thought of that while making my 'easiest ways to become a self-made millionaire' thing. I swear to you, it must be the failing memory. Otherwise, my dedication and commitment to gold-digging has been unwavering, I assure you. 

I am really going to get sued if I don't stop about AOL already.  So what my original point was that it's not like I don't talk anymore. Yeah, you kinda must've got that already. No, but this is serious okay?  These days, its like I can shut up for hours and not feel the need to say anything, you know? Actually?  That "not need(ing) to say anything" got so bad, I haven't had a real conversation with anyone, not the gang, not the folks, not even tutu, my neighbour's dog. 

Then I wondered why that was, and realised that all my closest people were gone because for someone silly reason or the other, I stopped talking to them. And how. You must absolutely listen to the gracefulness with which I do it.  

Inevitably, one cloudy evening with thunder and lightning, I'll suddenly go all Dominique Francon (frigid-bitch extraordinaire) on the friends and become incommunicado, leaving them clueless, because till yesterday they could've sworn we were Lewis and Tolkien.  And believe me, we would have been too. Then, I'd strut around pretending like I can't tell them from Justin Bieber and like I got bored just being with them. And then finally walk past them and go completely cold turkey without so much as a how-do-you-do.


Wait, wait. There's more. I'm actually getting to the point (which by the way is really the point and not what I said earlier was the point). So to cut a feature in to a snippet, despite the pangs of conscience making a maggi meal of my insides, I didn't go a single thing to make things thing right. Until now. 


But, but, when I finally did? Despite my bitch-and-half act and sheepish half-baked apology, the heroes accepted courteously, without even making me squirm, for which I'll hate them forever. Is it because they are all guys that they are so cool and grudge-less, I wonder. Or is it because of how awesome I am.

I'm telling you, now that we are all one big happy family again, I'm all for atonement. I mean I will recommend it.  Go apologize now I say! Don't let that ego tell you otherwise. It's liberating! Okay, but first check if they look like they are going to laugh in your face. If yes, screw them, you have tons of other friends who you can't talk to you but can get drunk with! If no, then broach the subject slowly and if its boys, make it as soppy as possible. Trust me, they will just wanna get it over with and forget it ever happened.  If it's girls? Yeah, well, then don't bother. 

Back to what I was saying. Yup, mending fences, that's whats rocking my boat these days. For my own part, having them all (well almost all, I still have one boy to make up with) back in my camp again is like bringing the cat I killed back to life again. Kinda pointless, but fun anyway! 

Do you get what I mean? I'm already en route to being myself again. I can't shut up! See?

Psst: Howlers about irregularity of posts are flattering but shall henceforth not be entertained. And no, that's NOT what this 1000 word masterpiece is about. Let me tell you, joblessness is a demanding and a full-time profession, alright? So, back off! I write, you read. That's the deal. Okay? Okay. 

Like a Rolling Stone

All the time I was working the past couple of months, I fantasised almost obsessively about this week -- my first as an utterly useless, aimless, prospectless, worthless, jobless member of the great Indian loafers club. I mean, what would I do? Where would I be? How'd it feel?


And, everytime, a hazy motion picture would start playing in my head. 

***

A lithesome girl, with somewhat of a resemblance to me, rises in time to shut off the alarm. A quick brush and she heads off for a run at the picturesque jangal-mangal park. At the park, she is PT Usha on dope. In the next hour, she completes her twenty rounds and is forced to stop when other runners plead with her to leave because of the complex she is giving them. 

Back home, she showers and readies to break fast.  At the table, her hand effortlessly ignores the leftover pizza and the freshly grilled cheese sandwiches and reaches instead for her favourite -- oats and orange juice. 


Then, as always, she arrives before time for class. Naturally adept at learning alien languages that were never meant to be learned, French n'cest pas difficile pour elle. "If it was not for your last name, the size of your hips, your love for gongura, and your country of origin, you would have certainly been mistaken for the French," the professeur tells the beaming girl. 


But it's only still the beginning. By the end of the day, she has, aced through her calligraphy lessons and her cooking classes, completed her visit to the lending library, spent time at the NGO, won a chess tourney with her non-virtual boyfriend, sifted through her freelance assignments. All, in time for bed. 


She completes her nightly routine and slips into bed with a contended smile. She is already ready for the next day. 

 ***

Now folks, that is what should have happened.  This is what happened. 

Everyday: Woke. Thought about running. Ate. Went out. Watched movie. Ate. Thought about French class. Read book. Slept. Cooked. Ate. Double Grilled Cheese Sandwiches. Went out. Thought about calling lending library. Played chess with virtual boyfriend. Went out. Bought calligraphy set. Met Jughead or Amen. Read 51 sex tips men want women to know. X BOXed. Went out. Came back smelling like smoke and booze. Read comics. Thought about the video. Slept. 

Not exactly as I imagined it would be, but pretty much how I'd want it to be. 

Grrr.

I'm going to use Blue Shirt's head for target practice.  Really, I am.  It will be like this. His head will pinned to the wall between rows of balloons in the shooting stall, at the carnival where I go every year. And then I will go pop! pop! pop! and poof, he'll be gone.  Okay, so given my exceptional hand-to-eye coordination and natural arm strength, NOT to mention the size of his pig head; all chances he'll come out of it unscathed, but that's completely besides the point. You get the point. I want to kill him. 


Now, there's three people in the entire world that I feel like that about, you understand? HIM, that loony Smugface (who is always offering to help when I say I want to kill myself) and of course, Devilkid (who was born and genetically designed to make my life miserable). 


Only, I can't seem to rid myself of any of them. And this one, I've been putting up with for like years. Okay, so maybe he's just this side of cute, can come up with a wisecrack or two and, knows me very, very well. But that's it. He's SO insufferably arrogant, and SO mean. Definitely deserves this much blog space, NOT.


But today, I tell you, he went too far. TOO far. How dare he doubt if I'm good enough to snare the celebrity husband that i'm pining after? This is it. I'm so totally done with him. Long time readers of the blog need not snort. This is only the 4569th time in the past seven years I've said that. But I promise you, this will be the last time and you all know I am woman of my word.  If you don't know anything of the sort, well, you will find out now.


Baah, now what I was saying? Yeah, so he's a dog. Whether he thinks I can do it or not, I'm going to marry NK and that's that.  If for some reason should NK not consent, (which frankly, I don't think will happen. After all, it's not like I'm some crazy, creepy fan who watched Hyderabad Blues once and then decided to marry him), I will resort to us touching noses, which will be considered and blessed as holy matrimony under the Eskimo tradition.


"Realistic ambition", is it? "Buy me ten pairs of bunny slippers if I marry NK, each in different colour", will he?  Hah! There. Now, that will show Blue Shirt. 

Blank Verse

Two very blogworthy incidents happened today. 


In one, a lifelong wait comes to an end. Today, I saw him. He's everything I ever imagined he'd be. Now, I just have to find a way to make him marry me. 


In the other,  I did it -- the really, really bold thing.  I quit the job. 


P.S: Dear God, I will do anything if you'll just arrange this for me. ANYTHING. Even believe in you. 


PPS: Jughead, I can't be more glad you are back. In the absence of a god, I leave this to you, my pimp. If anyone can do it, its you. 

Its in the air

Exactly this time last year, when I back in J, I asked Mongoose -- an unashamedly brazen chennaite -- when the blasted summer was ever going to end. She looked at me like I was a particularly slow bovine and screeched, "but this is winter ya, see you don't even have to switch on the A/c." 

And, here I sit now, in a cozy corner of my room wearing candy-striped socks sipping hot chocolate, willing myself to believe that it's finally here, the real thing. And about time too. Yeah, I'm a little crazy about this. You see, winters are my favourite, favourite time of the year. I'd bet that if you met me from now until the end of the year, you wouldn't even know I'm the renowned Grouchy. 

Instead I become this play dough like goof-ball when I sleep like a bear. And wake up feeling like Goofyalmighty, which is an on-top-of-the-world type happiness. And step into steaming showers only to come out hours later, feeling like a prune, wrapped in a big fluffy towels, swinging to favourites like man! I'm feeling like a woman or Road House Blues or Jail House Rock. And, long aimless walks under dewy green canopies just to feel the chill in the air. And, smile blindingly at random people on the road. And, pop-corn and LOTR marathons, great gatsby cuddled up in bed. And, pani-puri and ice-cream in the middle of the night.  And finally, sleep listening to us them and me.

I know. It can't be. But it is. 

Happiness has come on me!    

Fools like me

I'm so, so, so tired, dear readers. I worked and worked and worked all week long. And today, I even made a phone call, answered three e-mails, collected my pay cheque and wrote four 60 word reports, all by myself and didn't even get a byline for it. Reap the rewards of hard labour, my ass. 


But that was not what has me so,so, so depressed, dear readers. Tookie and I have been in search of two things the last week --  One, people who will buy us kindles. Two, people who will marry us.  While the former can be anyone, we agreed that by the virtue of necessity, the latter have to be boys. 


That decided, even before Tookie said the word "k-i-n", Werewolf Singh, long time "friend" and fan who works in Amazon, no less, lent her his kindle until her happily married (to a rich investment banker) sister got her one from Dubai.  


Needless to say, the second wasn't even a search to begin with. Being the uber-cool gujju bred tam-brahm tecchie that she is, she could have twenty different rakhi-ka-svayamvar type things going on for her. 


Now, let's pan it back to me, dear reader. 


No one offered to lend me their kindle, let alone buy me one. Smugface, true to our equation, said he will send me money to buy myself a chocolate. Amen offered to get me momos. And, blue shirt said he will get me bunny slippers! So, between how mad I was at smugface and how much I love momos and bunny slippers, I forgot all about the kindle, dear readers.  But now that you think about it, isn't it so utterly sad? Doesn't your heart just bleed for me? *Flutters eyelashes* Don't you feel like following the link and adding one to the cart, and freely shipping it to me? Don't you? Don't you? Don't you? Okay, I suppose you don't. But its still sad, no? 


But this, dear readers, is what got my goat. As much in demand as I usually am in the adulterers, perverts, creeps, voyeurs market; the demand seems, strangely enough, inversely proportionate to my matrimonial market value!  How can it be? Why would any mother, other than my own obviously, not see me as perfect? I simply don't get it. But as all heroines of lore, I live with it.  But now you see dear readers, why I've been so, so, so blue?


However, I stand resolved. Now, I have a new raison d etre. To make more loving friends and become more marriageable, is of course, what a less evolved mind like yours would have obviously concluded. And you would of course, be wrong. 


My plan is, as always, almost lex luthoresque in its genius. What I have to do is simply turn into Tookie, snatch Werewolf Singh and elope with her intended. And, for that too I have a plan. If you must know, it will include vaguely cloning, rohypnol, makemytrip.com, hypnosis, a will, and a kindle. 


It's not simply that I call myself brilliant, you know.  

Randomness

1. I fantasise about quitting my job as often and as interestedly as a pubescent pervert would about sex.

2. The only person I know who earns as sadly as I do is him,even though he earns exactly hundred times me.

3. The last time I watched a movie was when Rajnikanth had real hair. Imagine that.

4. Apparently, in order to live you must be willing to die. Only, isn't it because you don't want to live that you are willing to die?

5. Amen says its more unhealthy for me to worry about Blue shirt than for her to want to marry a loafer.Why do I believe her?

6. dearblankpleaseblank is THE awesomest site. No, really it is.

7.  I want batman underwear. What?  I like to keep the batman close!

8. Devil kid picks me up from work and drops me home everyday. He thinks he's THE transporter. Snort.

9. If I see one more aunt asks me when I'm going to marry, I'll so say I'm in love with her daughter.

10. I want money. Like lots of money. Like uncle-scrooge-in-his-gold-safe type money. Just like that.

And, so we are back

LAST MONTH

Wolf:  "You know, you should open that old blog of yours again." 

Me: "Oh yeah? Why?"

Wolf: "So much ammo, all buried in there. Would be much more fun, don't you think?" 

Me: "Sure I do, which is precisely why it's going to keep closed." 

Wolf: "You won't even consider re..".

Me:  "Nope. Its done. For good"

LAST WEEK

Me: "You dog! How'd you do it?!"

Wolf: "Do what?" 

Me:  "I can't access my blog, the new one" 

Wolf: "You can't, why not?"

Me: "Don't make. You know I can't. You made it happen!" 

Wolf: "Me? How could I have possibly have ma..?" 

Me:  "You must have bribed/threatened/cajoled/hacked... I don't know. You just did." 

Wolf : "Wait.. you think I'd do any/all of that just to read your old blog? 

Me:  "Of course. You are a techhie! So you are basically jobless and have access to, you know, ermm, these kind of things"

Wolf: "I'm a mechanical engineer!"

Me: "Hmpf, well okay, don't have to yell."

Wolf: "Did you forget your password?"

Me:  "Of course not. It's been the same for the past four years, you know I change only the number according to the month"

Wolf: "No need of hacking your pwd, it seems" 

Me: "Huh?" 

Wolf: "Nothing. So, wait a while, reopen your old one or start a new one." 

Me: "See! I knew it! It's all your doing. To make reopen the blog. Admit it"

Wolf: "Yeah right. So, don't open it. Start a new one. Do whatever"

Me: "You don't have to tell me that. I'm NEVER going to reopen it." 

TODAY

Wolf: "You opened it." 

Me:  "I know." 

Wolf: "Too lazy to start a new one?"

Me: "No...! This was, practical and, you know" 

Me:  "Yeah. Twas too much effort."

Wolf: "Figured"

Six Breezers Down

There are really only two kinds of relationships -- ones in which you give and the ones in which you take. In your case, the taking exceeding the giving by a obscene margin some would say. And given your track record, you'd agree. You would like to change the stats, if you could, choose who to give and who to take from. But then again, you know better than that, matters of the heart have a mind of their own. 

How do you explain to someone, that for you, love's a non-renewable resource.  Every time you give away some, a part of you withers, blackens, dies. It's not coming back again or healing, its gone. Forever. But that's irrelevant.  You don't care if its hurts because you know, you love the person. And love is not a thing that happens to you very often. So when it does, you open the doors and forget to close them. Until everything that was in there is gone and there's nothing left to give any more.

Not knowing, not suspecting, they will come. Each thinking that it's a part of your act -- the not calling, the not caring, the not feeling. Each so sure that they are different, that they can reform you, that you won't get bored with them. So you humor them, play the game. You flirt, you smile, you say all the right things. For a while, you are happy. Then they begin to want more.  You want to have fun, not think about any of that it. But you still pray that its true, that there will be someone who you will not just care for, but love. So, you try telling yourself and them,  "it was fun", "gimme a call," "its all fine", "we are good", "love ya". Some days you believe it too.  With everyday, the pretense costs you more. But you cant hurt them. So you endure, until you end up doing it anyway. And have them on your conscience. 

So now you have begun to avoid that and this.  When you go out, it's with those who play the same game, the same rules. For fun, nothing more, nothing less.   

But you are smart and funny and even somewhat pretty, so why would you be so shallow, they want to know. You want to them this, but you can't. Because you are 22, forgodsakes. You cannot be so utterly, hopelessly disenchanted, or so bored or cowardly. Maybe you are not. Maybe this is simply coming from straight down the bottle. Maybe tomorrow, when your head settles, you will cringe at this and deny everything vociferously. 

No, no, you do believe in sunshine and daises. You are an absolute fan of happily-ever-afters, in fact, you cry in soppy movies and you dream of a super hero falling in love with you (which you really do). 

And, of course you are not as jaded as you sound. Since the time you were a little girl, even when you thought boys were yuck, you are waiting for The One;  the one who will make you like pink and frills, make you take his name, maybe create a mrandmrsgrouchy dot com where we will have a countdown to the wedding, add stories of how we met, what our friends think of us, upload our childhood to wedding night pictures.  And then take a friends poll on what we should name our seven sons and eleven daughters. 

Of course you believe in all of those.

Just not now. Okay? 

Me: "Banjara Hills"

Auto Driver (AD): "Where in Banjara Hills?" 

Me: "Road no. so and so" 

AD: "Left side, right side? "

Me: "Left side." 

AD: "Down aa, up aa?" 

Me : "Down" 

AD: "Before so so or after so so?" 

Me: "Before." 

AD: "Oh, next to so and so?" 

Me: "Bite me." 

AD : "$$$ only." 

Me:  "WTF? Why?" 

AD : "Traffic, madam!" 

Me: "So? It's a road, so there's traffic. You wanna fly or what?" 

AD:  Aaah..."U-turn madam"

Me: "What U-turn?"

AD: "The U-turn?"

Me:  "It's a straight road. No U-turns and all." 

AD: "No? Ermm..then rain, too much water here there."

Me: "So? How does that matter? "

AD: "Night no madam? "

Me: "Huh? So what, you have night blindness? And besides, its not even 10 o clock!." 

AD: "Aah. Half price, half price. "

Me: "Half price is only after 11, you dip shit!!!"

AD: "No, its from now." 

Me:  "Oh yeah? You want to check with that cop there? "

AD: "Ayyo, what madam, what you are doing like this." 

AD: "Okay, baah, if you are so miserly, give Rs 5 less, the roads are very dirty now"

Me:  "So you charge less on cleaner roads?" 

AD: "Yes, yes." 

Me : "Okay, let's go on that other road then." 

AD: "No, madam,"

Me: "Why?" 

AD: "Just give me $$.$$"

Me: "Tell me one reason why I should give you that and I will." 

AD: "You are ladies." 

Me: "You sick gay bastard. What's has me being a girl gotta do with anything. Do I consume more petrol because I dont have a dick?! !"

AD: "Abba, why you are getting upset madam. I was, simply saying.  So what... you will pay $$$.$$?" 

Me: "Of course not, you dumb f***"Me: "Now f*** off, if you are not going to come by the meter." 

AD: "Meter not working madam" 

Me: "Why the f*** not?"

AD: "It's showing too much bill. Bad for you only. That's why I giving you better price." 

Me: "Very sweet of you, but I think I'll risk the meter."

AD:  "What madam, from that time. I ask just $$., see I earn *((#&*#& per day, and how much you must be earning, what is this tiny amount for you. Last word, what will you give?"

Me: "Ha ha ha. Heh heh heh. Hoo hoo hoo. Muahahaha." 

Oh, dear. Now there's a line you shouldn't crossed. Talking about my salary. Rubbing it in my face. Mistake. Big mistake. Wait, there I see it. A shovel. Plastic bags. Big suitcase. Trash can. Hyderabad is awesome like that. Eternally under construction. Everything you want, right there on the street. 

Me: Change of plan. Know the cemetery on Road no 3?  There, please. 

AD: Okay but that will charge madam, traffic, u-turn, rain, you know? 

Me:  I know. It's fine. 

AD:  You want to come back also? 

Me: Yes, but I think I'll need another auto.