Friday, December 24

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... 

Wednesday, December 8

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.