I am dead and heading to hell

2008-11-24T16:11:00.003+09:00

Hi people.
It's been ages since I wrote anything. Life's been fine indeed. It could have been better, but then it could have been worse too. I'm into something new now—writing stories. I found them to be a better medium for expressing my angst, apart from other emotions. ;) They are any day better than plain rants that I used to come up with on this blog. This blog will remain. Whenever I feel like expressing my rants, I will come here. Meanwhile, if you still want to read me, I can be found on http://unhingedcreativity.blogspot.com/.
Hoping to see you there and looking forward to your criticisms and witticisms.

A Recap and a Wish List

2008-01-16T15:15:00.000+09:00

For this post, I thought let’s review the last year’s wish list and see what wishes came true.

Ø The first wish was about my college and college mates. College has come to an end and I have made some good friends there. No more wasted weekends. Thank God! The wish stands fulfilled.

Ø The second wish was about Delhi Jal Board and their goof-ups. Now that we have got a submersible water pump installed in our home, DJB’s goof-ups won’t trouble us much as they used to earlier. But one still needs drinking water and I hope they do not do any more mischief. The wish is partially fulfilled.

Ø The third wish was about my lenses. My eyes have stopped watering, now that I’ve had my lenses changed. They do trouble me occasionally, but it’s okay. That wish has been fulfilled too.

Ø My father still does not occupy the bathroom by 8:25 though sometimes after much persuasion he has been kind enough to enter the bathroom by 8:15, but only sometimes (Such sometimes are rare). This wish has not been fulfilled.

Ø Well, the lectures haven’t stopped. In fact, the number has only increased with Bitch No.3 too entering the arena. So, this wish too has not been realised.

Ø Tanaz has left. So, there’s nobody to say “so sweet” repeatedly. I wish her well though; she was a nice girl. The wish too stands fulfilled, although not in a manner I desired. Nevertheless…

Ø My hypocrisy levels remain where they were last year. And now that I look back, they may have come down, but only a bit. Too bad. Not realised!

Ø There are all the more reasons to crib this year. This means that God is still to hear me out on this one.

Ø I suppose God granted me many more wishes last year. Fulfilled.

So, God gets 5-1/2 out of 9. Just about average. He’d better pull up his socks this year and brace himself (or herself, I'll let him/her choose this at least) for this year’s wish list.

Ø I wish I derive more satisfaction out of my work, which is now becoming tad too boring and routine.

Ø I wish that boss sees senseand reverts to the five-day routine and punish those who do not come in time, not the entire unsuspecting office janata.

Ø I wish that my exercise regimen finally works the way I want it to and help me reduce my weight as quickly as possible so that many of my problems get solved.

Ø I wish to get a nice appraisal and a promotion (for a bonus mark, God) so that I’m able to buy myself a nice laptop by next year. (Apple Macbook, perhaps. Hope I'm not asking for much.)

Ø I wish that my dad considers everyone’s point of view, not just his. I cannot do anything about the size of my bathroom now that it has been constructed, but he should allow me to move my stuff upstairs and not create any more pangas in that.

Ø I wish my mom does not grow panicky every time I’m 15 minutes late and does not call me after every hour just to know where I’ve reached.

Ø I wish all my friends stay close and that we do not fight as we had been doing a few weeks ago. Peace and love must reign.

Ø I wish to find at least one decent guy, who is worth thinking about, to say the least. And, here I’m not talking about my guy friends.

Ø I wish that all the last year’s unfulfilled and partially fulfilled wishes are realised this year.

Ø I wish that God grants me at least two more wishes this year just in case I need to ask for more.

Cheers and have a brilliant year ahead!

Love in the Times of Riches

2007-12-13T07:28:00.000+09:00

I had been commissioned to write some pieces for a website, which was supposed to be this next-hottest-thing on the Internet. However, the owners chickened out of the deal at the last moment. This is one of the four articles that I had written and now that I will be no longer paid to write for them nor would these articles be used, I have taken the liberty of putting them here. I have struck off a few lines as they do not go with the general nature of this blog.

Please go through them and tell me was this article good enough to be used or not. One can say that this is my idea of revenge, but then this can be taken as healthy criticism as well. Anyways, both bouquets and brickbats are welcome. Here it goes:

These are rich times. We love our comforts and serve to increase them, making alliances that help us climb the “success” ladder.

Success—a relative term yet again. Some define it as an ability to earn as much material comforts as possible. Then there is this other school of thought, according to which, success is your ability of being remembered long after you’re gone. They say that you do it by spreading love.

But we live in busy times where one does not have time for love—here it means romantic love. Every actor has at least once in their lives claimed that they can’t afford to fall in love. But ultimately, they do. That’s the beauty of it all.

However, somehow, in our quest of wealth, we all tend to run away from love. We have a tendency to consider it as a burden, something that will chain us and yet, come on let’s face it, still love those lovey-dovey numbers by Kailash Kher and Savage Garden, not because of the music alone but because of the lyrics as well.

So, then why does such a contradiction exist in our lives? To this, my dear friends, I have no answer. I won’t pretend to be a saint, nor would I be hypocritical about it—I am still hesitant to embrace love.

The article may not make sense to many. They may say that I’m being too vague and random in my thoughts. However, there are many who do know what I’m talking about, who’ve been here and understand my feelings. The next paragraph is for them and for those who’ve stuck with me till here.

The Eagles have doled out some great advice in the form of their haunting number Desperado.
Don’t you draw the queen of diamonds boy,
She’ll hurt you if she’s able,
You know the queen of hearts is always your bet.

Despite this being one of my favourite songs, I find myself unable to follow what it preaches. What about you?

EM vs MI

2007-10-23T18:49:00.000+09:00

Sitting, doing nothing… No… I’m doing something; I’m dreaming, or shall we say day-dreaming.

And then there’s this Major Irritant (let’s call it MI), a fly. Buzz, buzz it goes, disturbing my afternoon of peace and dreams.

The Exasperated Me (EM) decides to swat it, kill the intruder. It deserves it, EM murmurs. Armed with a copy of the magazine EM edits (Well! This is what the magazine's worth considering the kind of bozos who think that they write for it and the morons who head it and own it), she sees MI squatting on the computer she so dearly loves (she has recently scored more than 9,000 points in a Solitaire game recently, obviously she loves the computer). Pattttttttt! There’s a sound. EM looks hopefully. To her dismay, MI has escaped.

She looks around wildly, determined to punish it for sullying her afternoon’s chasteness. And then she spots it. There it is, sitting quite comfortably on her beloved black bag which she got for Rs 1,500. EM had spent half her allowances on it. She could not bring herself to swat MI there in case its blood polluted the sanctity of her bag. So, she decided to make it move a bit and thus, raises a hand to make it fly away.

MI decides to settle down on the CPU. Despite the camouflage, EM’s sharp eyes detect it. She goes for the kill. Pattttttttttttt! And she wins the match. The evil wins again in this Kaliyuga.

EM settles down for yet another daydream. Ah! Peace at last. Five minutes into the dream, buzz……..

Life in Metro Part III—Of Aunties, Seats and Sardars

2007-09-12T19:06:00.000+09:00

What is it with aunties and seats? They just can’t get enough of them, even if it is for a 10-minute journey. This is a case with every woman who falls in the aunty-category i.e. a woman in her late thirties and above. Now a woman in her thirties cannot be so old that she cannot stand for as short a time as 10 minutes and that too in an AC coach, which is only a bit overcrowded. And if they so badly want to sit, why don’t they exercise themselves a bit, like we do.

That day, the metro station in question was overcrowded and me and Bitch no. 3 decided that instead of taking the one straight home, we should take the opposite metro and then double back. This way we will escape the crowd and get a seat as well. And we did just that. On that very metro station, as usual, people entered in hoards, pushing and jostling with each other, trying to make even those, who want to get off, complete—or if you want to put it like this—stretch their journey. We were sitting in seats made for two just where two coaches meet. Both of us prefer these seats as we can chat properly without anyone around and they’re damn comfortable to sit on, with proper siderests and all.

However, as is the case with all good things, our good fortune and the pride in it came to an end—an abrupt one. This particular aunty—must be around 40s—comes and says, “Please adjust kar lo”. Me and No.3 looked at each other’s faces. Hello? Seat… Do you see this is a place made for only two? Where would you like to sit? On our heads? In fact, before I could even think of such supposedly funny witticisms, I, to my horror of horrors, realised that I just didn’t know what to say. Such gross foolishness… But then, I realised you can expect such things out of aunties. No.3 shrugged and got up. I, then, decided there was no point sitting with that stupid aunty and I would rather stand as well. I gave my seat to an elderly woman, one can call her aunty too, but then this one was different from the crowd. She was old, must be in her 60s and even then didn’t ask for “adjustment”. I respect her for that, but had she asked for a seat, I would have readily given it to her.

I joined No.3 at the joint (for the uninitiated, it is the point where two coaches meet) and started venting my frustration about that stupid woman. She too was rather angry. After all, we had spent 10 minutes in trying to make ourselves comfortable in the metro. “I mean, honestly, how can she say stuff like that adjust kar lo? Typical sardar talks,” I spoke rather loudly, actually not that loudly, but, I think, it must’ve been enough for the people at the joint to hear me. No.3 tapped me and asked me to look behind. And to my horrors of horrors yet again (too many horrors for a day if you ask me; I’m getting rather tired of them), there was a sardar standing just behind. I turned back quickly and tried to console myself saying he most probably didn’t hear me. No.3 though insisted that he must have as she thought I was loud enough. Who gives a damn about what she thinks? But actually I do.

But the Sardar didn't react and thankfully for that. No.3 asked me to be careful about what I say. Well! she of the sanest of all individuals. Hrrrrmph! But by now, I had gotten another reason to crib about apart from that stupid aunty, "Why is it that whenever I crack Sardar jokes does a Sardar have to be around?" I kept riling on it for long and not without reason. This always happens with me, but thankfully, I have never faced the music. I get away with it. :)

But that aunty, I hope she never gets away with it again.......

Gateway to Heaven

2007-07-19T03:26:00.001+09:00

Clicked in Connaught Place... Should have focused more on the sky... What to do.... I'm learning...

The colours of today

2007-07-02T14:51:00.000+09:00

View from atop the Pitampura Metro Station. Lovely ain't it?

Lessons I have learnt Part 1

2007-06-29T15:38:00.000+09:00

These are some of the things I have learnt over the years:

Ø Every action in itself is not bad or good, it is its aftermaths that decide whether it was good or not.

Ø One pays for one’s own deeds.

Ø God believes in keeping balance sheets in perfect order. He rewards you when you make him happy and punishes you when you make him unhappy; and the punishment comes when you expect it the least.

Ø All good things must come to an end. Ditto with all bad things as well, though somehow good things do not last that long, or so it seems to us.

Ø Believe it or not, somehow somewhere you end up taking shit from someone or the other and most of the times that person is not worth taking shit from.

Ø At the end of the day, you are all alone to face the world and you have to do what you have to.

Ø Quest for knowledge is an essential part of life, be it from personal experiences, books, television, films or travel.

Ø Everything is subjective to one’s perspective. Objectivity is a farce, an ideal not worth even trying for.

Ø There are always two facets of a story, if not many. One must choose which one we want to believe and it is these choices in life that make us what we are.

Ø Never expect anything from anyone. Trust me, it hurts when you are let down.

Ø Be prepared for the worst and hope for the best.

Ø Accept change as a part of life. It is the only truth worth accepting. Nothing comes closer to it, not even God and not even love.

Ø Everyone is eccentric in his/her way.

Ø And lastly, even if you hate being yourself, don’t force yourself to change if your heart does not allow it. Change yourself, only if it makes you happy. Do not be concerned about what others think of you.

Hopefully, there will be further additions to this list.

In love

2007-06-01T20:41:00.000+09:00

I am in love. With this:

This is called Sony Ericsson W850i.

Compareindia.com says: This 116 grams phone has a Lithium Polymer battery type, which allows you talk time of 450 minutes and stand by time of 350 hours. It has added features like 262K colour TFT display with resolution of 240 x 320 pixels, fm radio, push email client, voice dial, voice mail, call conferencing, triband, vibration mode, predictive text input, polyphonic ring tones, stopwatch, calculator, calendar, tasks, handsfree speaker, ring tone composer, countdown timer, SMS, EMS, MMS, GPRS, Bluetooth, Infrared, USB connector, flight mode, inbuilt Dictaphone, equalizer, mp3, mpeg4 and media player, and is WAP enabled. It comes with dual camera - 2MP camera with 4x zoom, flash, white balancer, self timer, night mode, multi-shot, light effects, video recording and secondary VGA camera in front for Video Call. This phone is PDA enabled and has a cHTML, WAP 1.2.1, WAP 2.0 browser. It has an inbuilt memory of 16MB and slot for memory stick pro duo.

Me says: I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it. But it costs a mad Rs 19,000.... :(

Heel-ed

2007-05-31T19:57:00.000+09:00

What happens when a not-so-girlish girl tries to be girlish? Disaster.

The day began with the usual nautankis of mine. I forced dad to drop me to the Metro station because it was him who made me get into that freak course (though I have started enjoying myself there but I’m not telling him otherwise I will loose my pick-and-drop service). After the course I had plans to go and watch Spidey 3 with Bitch No. 1 and Bitch No. 3. I am no. 2 (You can find us on bitchno.whatever@kaminepankihadd.com. The website has been under consideration since two years.)

Bad luck struck (as usual). We couldn’t manage to get the tickets despite stalking a pair of men who were waiting for some of their friends and had just two tickets. We decided to sit in our good ol’Mc Donald’s where we usually hang around and can be found either tarot carding or making fun of others. Even the staff knows us well. In fact, I did a tarot session with them too for which they gave us free ice-creams. All details later.

So, we were just sitting idle and watching television there when we happened to meet a friend, who was with his friend. This friend of his is known to us and it so happened that he is more into girls now. Let’s call him bug. He has turned into a major irritating factor. He suggested that we paid a visit to the newest mall in town and we agreed.

Now it so happened that No. 3 was wearing pencil heels. Since she had thought that all she was going to do was to watch the movie and then hitch her ass on to a rickshaw and get home, she thought she might as well wear heels. While pencilled heels need one to sit and look pretty and not walk around much, you need to make proper use of your feet to explore a mall. As it is No. 3 walks a bit slow and add heels to that, you get Snail No. 1. She said her ankles were aching. So, being the benevolent friend that I am, I decided to put an end to her miseries. I asked her to change footwear with me.

And the misadventure began. Destiny and heels made me realise how tough modelling can be. It needs brains to manage yourself and I suppose nothing short of a management degree would do. Trying not to fall on somebody, I started walking. Even normally, I sleepwalk most of the times and keep bumping into people. So not bumping into anyone and not stepping on their toes became a perilous job. I would rather have Mr UM's story to edit everyday (He writes shit and I hate doing his stories which are about crappy issues anyway. I don’t know who clears such stories).

We couldn’t get a rickshaw till the Metro station and had to walk. On top of that, No. 3 decided to treat us with ice candies. I wanted an ice cream but she will have none of it. Ice candy it was, and that too from a vendor who didn't have my favourite raspberry-mango candy. I had to settle down for a cola. (She is such a bitch). So, finally there I was, balancing the bag, the ice candy, the heels and myself, walking, or rather trying to walk, and people giving me company from time-to-time. No. 1 was quite sympathetic (she could have been better) but couldn’t help much as Bug was irritating her. No. 3 was acting Mommy, trying to help me cross the road.

Finally, I saw heaven. There it was, smiling benignly at me, asking me to take refuge in it—the Metro station. But God decided to have one last bit of fun at my expense before he retired for the day. An imposing flight of stairs greeted me. That could have been enough to dash all my hopes. But I am a shameless git. I simply took off the heels at the metro station and walked barefoot. Braving the stupefied glances and smirks, I walked on and on and finally boarded the Metro and slumped myself on to the seat and then proceeded to taunt No. 3. I told her what a big fool she was (she still is and will perhaps remain one all her life) and how I got her a boil because of her foolishness. However, being a thick skin, she took my taunts in her stride and I was unsuccessful yet again to reform her girlish ways.

The boil has healed, but not before I was heel-ed.

Hakuna Matata

2007-04-25T19:18:00.000+09:00

There’s just one philosophy that’s worth considering, that of Hakuna Matata. However, it ain’t that easy to follow. To many it doesn’t sound propah.

I, however, have never cared about anything being proper or improper. But there are some things that never seem to go away—that of change. It’s a reality—I won’t call it a sad one—people change. It’s pretty natural. It is, in fact, required to keep life going, for a process called evolution of man, of the self.

People, whom I care about, say I have changed. I agree I have and I can never be apologetic about it. Though, I am a bit uncomfortable with myself and with the world, I am sure that if I give myself time, the discomfort will vanish. I don’t have problems with myself, at least not right now.

However, the part of the world where I live and love, does not feel comfortable with me any longer. My friends, who care for me and love me more than I love myself, are perturbed and perhaps, upset. One has even cried because of this change. All I can say is that I am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Moreover, I didn’t even know what was going on. Though I did have a vague idea that they were feeling bad and left-out because of me changing. But I wonder why they didn’t tell me anything about it earlier. And I wonder why they couldn’t digest the new me. Did I behave so despicably?

If only life could have been much more simpler and problem-free…

If only Hakuna Matata could work for me as well, or perhaps, work for others around me.

Lazybones

2007-04-05T19:49:00.000+09:00

Me hates morning walks... :'(

Repeat... That's the whole tragedy

2007-03-24T22:44:00.000+09:00

Exactly a week left for me to turn 21. Imagine me being 21! Sounds funny doesn't it? But I've hardly changed and yet there's a change. That's the irony of my life. The thing is there and yet not there. I want something and yet I do not want that thing. Most of the times, I am in a confusion whether to go in for that thing or not, whether to say something or not, whether I want to be good or bad. That's what happens with this blog too—I want to write and yet when I start to write, I don't like it and tell myself that something better needs to be put up here in this space and I end up erasing every little precious thing I wrote. Imagine! I have at least two drafts of blog pieces in my post which I am yet to complete and though I plan to complete them soon, my mood swings to the other side and they are left as they were. Phew! Quite a long and complex sentence. But then that's how my life is. Long, dull, complicated and boring. And I had thought that being complicated was fun.

I often digress from my point. I have so much to say that I puke all over the screen without giving a thought about you, my poor readers. This blog has been silent for quite some time. Not that I haven't tried to write; I swear I did but I ended up somehow increasing the number of drafts in my blog. And there are still two more copies in my register that I'd written during a class and had thought would post it here and couldn't as they never got completed as somebody interrupted me and now I do not feel like completing them. That's the whole problem. Repetitive na.. I know.. That's a tragedy too.

Some people say I crib a lot. I agree. Many people say this is an angst-ridden blog. I agree again. But then I can't help it. Maybe I can but I've never tried. I suppose I must give it a try but I think I will keep forgetting this that I have to restrain myself. Even when I write this, I remember that I have to restrain myself. Off you go! Back to my books. I was supposed to study and I'm blogging. This is my problem (I know I am repeating myself..and this 'repeat' dialogue is repeating itself again). I just cannot help digress and restrain myself. (Repeat) There I go again. Apologies! And more apologies for not having written anything this month. I had planned to write something about my resolutions this birthday but somehow ended up cribbing yet again. But planning won't help me. Most of my plans go haywire just like this one did. The reason—my not sticking to the script. Take, for instance, my morning walks which have stopped again, first for that Goddamn special issue and then because of the Goddamn college and its exams. So, I might just put up a NO RESOLUTION board yet again like this:
NO RESOLUTION (though I am planning to start morning walking again)

Oh! and bye for now. I suppose I wrote a lot after saying I will stop and I just get this feeling that I'm going to start all over again. This is a Goddamn vicious cirlce. Irony yet again! (Repeat) Buhbye! And my apologies for all repetitions and many many thanks for being so tolerant of me. And now I am thinking of putting a headline, it is there and yet not there. Repetitive again... I know. That's the problem, I know everything and yet not know anything. Shut up Devil!

A father and his daughter

2007-02-20T18:36:00.000+09:00

This was a poem that I wrote in class XII on my father and the kind of relationship I share with him. I wondered if I could produce it here. So here it goes:

Me and my father are a perfect match,
Our arguments are worth hearing and a treat to watch.
We just need a topic that's all,
It does not matter whether it's big or small.

Whether India will see a new light,
Or it can be today's students' miserable plight.
The calories I burn is a regular issue,
In the end though none of us, but my mother needs a tissue.

I just love to argue with him,
So many topics in my mind regularly swim.
He too needs just a little hint,
In our debates, around the world we sprint.

Jules Verne took eighty days to go around the world,
Spare us just eighty seconds sir! Isn't it a record?
In the end, none of us wins,
Though the heat of our arguments burns people's skins.

In our home, you will never find a dove,
But spare that, we do each other love.
Without us, our home is barren, there's no laughter,
After all, he is my dad and I, his daughter.

Love you Dad. You are the first man in my life and there can be no other man who can take that place away from you. You will be the most important man in my life—forever. Come what may...

Perhaps...

2007-02-16T00:31:00.000+09:00

A sun ray falls on the yellow petal of the flower and the dew drop so far resting on it, glistens with a new-found energy. He loved nature. It bestowed him with an enthusiasm for life, for its eccentricities and its playfulness. His muddled thoughts used to pave way to a peaceful and an uncluttered mind. His heart used to reach out to the dew drop, to kiss the yellow, sun-lit face of the flower.

The fact that a part of his life was gone never seemed to bother him. He looked forward to the next moment in the same way as a class topper looks forward to the next set of exams—to show off, to strut his stuff and to display to the world that he is the best, not through words but through actions.

And yet under this calm demeanour, there was a fear that lurked. It was not the fear of failure. It wasn’t the fear of death. It was the fear of unhappiness—an unhappiness that comes from disappointing those you love, an unhappiness that comes when you get disappointed with life. Perhaps, labelling the fear as that of unhappiness would be wrong. Perhaps, unhappiness should be substituted with disappointment.

Perhaps, life cannot be as simple as a dew drop’s life as much as he and we may want it to be.

In the process...

2007-01-30T17:16:00.000+09:00

Life is good, but it could have been better. But then even Salman Khan could have been taller and Himesh Reshammiya tolerable. However, there is something that I miss profoundly, something that I find unable to express in words, maybe because am yet to figure out what it is.

There seems to be a void inside me that just refuses to be bridged with the other part of the soul. Even if I am busy, it makes its presence felt the moment I take a breather. And before people start using that l-word, I would like to clarify that such pangs never used to hit me before. It’s just that I find myself changing, growing more obstinate and unreasonable and the mood swings are getting more and more pronounced these days.

Those silent moments in a conversation are increasing. It makes me feel as if I have nothing more to say to anyone. This is happening to a "chuchu ka murabba" who could never cease talking even for a moment. I get into strange moods, doubt myself, and seem to be in search of something every moment—sometimes knowledge, sometimes peace.

Is it work pressure? I don’t think so. After all, I love my work and even though I get touchy about it, work pressure can never make me say and do things that I do not want to.

I want to stop for some time, stop and watch, stop and then move, explore myself and the world around. I think I have been running too much of late. My moments of peace seem to get disturbed every time. But I cannot stop, at least not right now; I have miles to go.

But really can anyone just explain to me what’s been happening all this while and why is this transformation taking place and that too at a speed which bewilders me?

Truckloads of Gibberish

2007-01-15T19:42:00.001+09:00

The feeling is still to sink in. There’s this wonderful sunlight all around that is permeating through me. Everything seems so very distant and yet so far. The cup of contradictions seems to be overflowing—delighting me and saddening me all at once. A bed full of roses is not required at the moment; what is required is a hot cup of coffee.

Whatever has been written so far, is nothing but gibberish. But this is what I have been feeling. Gibberish—that’s what! I am unable to understand anything that’s been happening and is still happening. I am typing this stuff as if in a trance—as if I do not know anything that I am doing, Feeling mad. Let me feel more mad…

Asdaksdhkajhdfkfdsv dsfndsfosfjdsvnnbavsdv fa;gdfkaeifawej;fpqwefjarlnvga anfakdfanfdjfnakfmn nafkfaejiadrj;fvnbfjbvand akdfjalfnakdfrfa;dfjnbjaadpopawepdawe efa;fj orifgjarijfirajitharouekf vaifjaeifnagbgbdfaaufaure;fr arirejwojaerfgbalf aejfaerhfaunaf afefeuhaeufn;afnriafhairefnv neajfaepwrjiewfnv hfah;ejofahdlfjo;aj aeniehaehdlancarfhc aewfiefhaeruwfhav

That was a bit relieving.

Is this love? Have I fallen in the pit? Has the sting operation got me as well?

Hehehehehehehehe… don’t worry, nothing’s up with me. Just thought of giving some surprise to you guys and trick you all. I am absolutely well and doing fine indeed. The sting is still to trap me.

Life in Metro II—How to comb your hair in the train

2007-01-12T15:01:00.000+09:00

If you do not have a mirror at your place, please do not worry. The Metro train is there to help all the hapless mirror-less poor souls in the dustbin of Delhi. Here's what you should do:

Buy a Metro token for the metro train. It will be better if you have a smart card with you. Makes job easier and faster. Even more better if you take the token for the underground stretch.
Press your token or card to that entry barrier-thing (Dunno what's it called. If anyone knows the correct name, please be kind enough to get back to me)
Next thing, climb down (if you want you can climb upstairs as well. But if you really want to use the Metro train as a mirror, it would be better if you use the underground. Makes the peering job better). Use the escalator but it would be better if you make use of your natural escalators (your feet, silly boy/girl.. depends upon what you are. If you are none... then I am sorry, my English vocabulary ends here). Using both man-made and natural escalators together increases you speed (confused how? Well read Life in Metro Part I. Scroll down Honitus or save the agony of scrolling by clicking the link I have provided you lazybones).
Wait for the Metro train to arrive. Many-a-times, it arrives 1-2 minutes late. If it is, then mouth some abuses at the driver. Trust me, that'll help.
Rush into the Metro as most of your co-passengers do. If you are not that rush-type, then please stand back and enjoy the scene. Just make sure that you do not miss the train in your moment of enjoyment. If you do, start again with point number 4.
Now that you are inside the train, I will tell you the position of the mirror. It is the glass of the doors my dear friends. Brace yourself for the most difficult part: the combing itself. Just try and stand near the gates and it'll be fine. It would be better of you stand near that gate that remains closed throughout the journey. The logic behind this is that since the other set of gates would keep opening and closing and a swarm of medieval Red Indians will keep coming in, chances are that you won't be able to comb your hair and the entire exercise would be rendered fruitless.
With a hand on the handle, try peering into the glass and straightening your hair. The effects will be visible better if you are in the underground stretch. The darkness always helps. *wink*wink*
Now your hair stand combed and you are ready to face the world. Who says the world needs a mirror? The metro is enough.

P.S. As a precaution, try not to step on the passenger standing next you while doing your hair. Just hold the handle tight so that you do not fall. Otherwise, there may not be any hair left on your scalp for you to comb.

I would like to express my gratitude to the anonymous co-passenger whom I met in the underground stretch and who demonstrated the elegant way in which the above exercise can be conducted. Thank you sir. May God bless your soul and may the Metro train glasses be spotlessly cleaned everyday to enable you to do this exercise daily and demonstrate your expertise in handling such delicate situations.

Some Cribs and a Wish List

2006-12-29T18:23:00.000+09:00

Although I had promised that I am not going to crib before the year ends, something absolutely forced me to crib again.

Ø I am unable to understand what’s up with my lenses. Every time I wear them, my right eye becomes watery and forces me to fill buckets. It grows red giving me a dopey look. It has also made my right eye look smaller than my left one. Hell! Interestingly, I cry only with one eye (the right one of course) and seeing the condition of the eye, the nose starts crying and running at the same time.

Ø Another thing that is troubling me is my boss’s attitude. He treats me like an outcaste and a fathead who doesn’t understand anything. He makes me feel that my dad wasted his money by in trying to educate me as I am (he thinks so) still an uneducated ass.

Ø Why does my father insist on occupying the bathroom only after 8:30 am? Why not around 8:25 am? He should understand that now even I have to go to office and it’s not just him who’s working now. Is he aware that a word called ‘adjustment’ exists in the world?

Ø Why does Tanaz have to say “so sweet” to every darned thing?

Most people make resolutions for the New Year, I am making a Wish List and I hope that the chap who lives in the skies and calls himself God fulfills these wishes. Here goes the list:

Ø I wish that my college and college mates behave properly with me and try to understand that it is hateful to keep on thinking about their own selves and comfort.

Ø I wish that Delhi Jal Board does not goof up on the water supply in our locality so that we are not forced to go to the temple a street away to fill our buckets and that my grandmother sees the logic behind my so many arguments on leaving this locality for good.

Ø I wish that my lenses stop troubling my eyes and try not to turn them into hosepipes.

Ø I wish that my boss stops behaving like that.

Ø I wish that my father occupies the bathroom by 8:25 in the morning and vacates it by 8:50.

Ø I wish that I get lectured less from now on.

Ø I wish Tanaz stops saying “so sweet” to every darned thing.

Ø I wish my hypocrisy level goes down by the same time next year.

Ø I wish that I will have fewer reasons to crib next year.

Ø I wish that God grants me two more wishes the next year just in case I need to ask for more.

Cheers and wish you all a very Happy New Year!

Life in the Metro

2006-12-27T21:05:00.000+09:00

This has been a rather frustrating end of the year. However, I want to end it on a humorous note. So, now I present a little anecdote from my life in the Metro (Metro as in the Metro train), though I must admit my Haryanvi language is extremely bad. So my apologies.

As usual the day began with lectures—that how I do not exercise and stuff like that. As usual I ignored it and settled down with the newspaper and shouted at my brother to stop bothering me with his set of Maths problems (Maths and I hardly go together and nor can we tolerate each other. I refuse to solve its problems and its problems just refuse to be solved by me). Anyways, we are digressing from the topic. Finally got ready to go to office after wondering what to wear today as everything that was staring at me from my wardrobe was O! so boring! The water as usual was hot and I was still feeling cold. After dressing up in all the finery and having had a typical unexciting breakfast of bread and butter with Bournvita milk, I stepped out of my house armed with a P.G. Wodehouse to read in the Metro. As usual I contemplated what mode of transport should I use—rickshaw or bus. I settled down in favour of the bus thinking that since it is winters, I would be better off in a warm bus, even if it is crowded, rather than a windy rickshaw. So left-right-left (I had just watched this programme on TV. The effects were still to wear off. The programme is about army cadets and features quite a number of eye-candies. Anyways, back to the topic again) I went to the bus-stop, boarded the bus and thanked God that it wasn’t too crowded and mentally uttered abuses at a few gawk-ers (Lord! How I hate such people) and finally reached the Metro station.

Again the usual—huffing and puffing, I finally climbed the stairs of the Metro station (They do not make escalators in our part of the metro station. This is what happens to the minority community in this country— injustice. The number of people who travel in the Metro from our part of the station is smaller than the other side—this makes us the minority community among the Metro travellers. We want reservation! We want reservation! Hopefully I will get a seat in the train from now on). Oho! Again we digress. Coming back, this time I got the escalator and climbed up. You see, that makes it quick—climbing the escalators with the escalator climbing in the same direction takes you up faster (This is Nobody’s Devil Law of Motion! But I hate Physics too!). And so I am on the platform now. The train arrives 1 minute late and I mentally reprimand the driver for being “so” late forgetting that it is India we live in. Then as usual, I stand back bemused watching the way in which people are trying to get into the train, literally pushing and pulling each other as if the train is going to leave them there and the next train isn’t going to come. I make a mental note of this and nod to myself in a righteous sort of way that at least I am not a part of this rat race quite forgetting the fact that it is me who has made an effort to remember the exact point on the platform where a door of the train opens.

(And now for the real bit) After being successful in finding my favourite place to stand in the train, I look around just to make sure nobody is gawking at me (if I had found such a person, I would have taken the pleasure of calling him a few names as well. Sadistic! One may say. However, I have found a new victim for that—my boss). Then I fished out my P.G., as I lovingly call it, and started reading. The train keeps halting at Metro station and moving again, as it is supposed to do. Comes: Pratap Nagar Metro Station. Enter: Mr. Haryanvi Jaat.

Mr Haryanvi Jaat (let’s call him HJ just like that weirdo Michael Jackson—MJ or maybe Mary Jane of Spiderman fame): Oh bhai! Ye Shahadra jayegi k nahi? [Will this train go to Shahadra?]
Helpful Passenger: Haan haan jayegi tau. [Yes, yes, it will uncle]
(Methought: Is it a f*****g bus?)

HJ is unable to balance himself. Falls on the passenger standing nearby who is looking distraught at having been relegated to such a torture. I, meanwhile, try to contain my laughter.

HJ: Ib is goley ka k karoon main? [What am I supposed to do with this token. Please note, the gola in question is the Metro token?]
Helpful Passenger: Is ko jab Shahadra utrogey tab dabbe me daal dena. [When you arrive at Shahadra, put it in the box].
HJ: Ye Shahadra jayegi na? [Will this go to Shahadra or not?]
(Methought: How many times are you going to ask that? Shut up now and let me read! The fool!)

The guy standing opposite to me is gaping at HJ in wonder contemplating whether he belongs to some other planet. I grin at him. He doesn’t grin back, clearly lost in thoughts. (Methought: Of course HJ belongs to the other planet—Haryana. Now that was a racial slur. Bad girl!)
By now it seemed that Helpful Passenger had gotten tired of him.

Helpful Passenger: Tau Metro me zyada bolna mana hai. [Uncle speaking too much is banned in Metro]
But HJ is damn smart.
HJ: Ib dikha de k kidhar likha hai Silence. [Show me where is it written: Silence, obviously he meant Maintain Silence.] (But this was no time to display my subbing skills. There was too much excitement on the ground, or maybe in the air, or mid-air. Oh whatever! Just read on!)

Repeats the dialogue a number of times, much to the amusement of the people around.
(Methought: This guy is just too cool. I am his fan. Autograph please!)

HJ: Acha beta! Manne ye bata k je tumhara thaila kho jaye, to kahan report likhwani padti hai. Mera thaila kho gaya tha pichli baar Metro me. K wo mil jayega? [Son! Tell me where should I report if I lose my bag in the Metro. I lost my bag last time here. Will I get it back?]

By now it seemed to me as if Helpful Passenger was in a mood to have fun with HJ.

Helpful Passenger: Tau agar paise honge to kabhi na milega. [If it had money, you will never find it]
HJ: Na beta. Paise na the. Bas kuch kagaz they, kachcha aur baniyan tha. [It did not have money. It had a pair of undergarments]
Helpful Passenger: Driver se pooch lena. [Ask the driver].
(Methought: The driver must be wearing your kachcha [underwear] and baniyan [vest] right now. That too over this pants playing Superman. Now that was an old joke)

In between the conversation, HJ had already asked whether the train will go to Shahadra at least once more. While most of us were getting down at Kashmiri Gate (wonder why Kashmiri Gate. Kashmir is in Jammu and Kashmir, not in Delhi), he asked once more the same question.

(Methought: If he says it once more, I am gonna scream and say... No, this one goes to Timbaktu)

To add to it....

2006-12-19T16:30:00.000+09:00

Still more to add to my existing frustrations, this is what has been happening:

Ø There has been no water supply since 3 days. My grandmother refuses to leave this damned place and refuses to see the problems her children and grandchildren are facing without water. Had it been peak summer, I would have understood that there is shortage of water, but it is winters now. Areas around our locality are facing no such problems, then why only us? Everyday we have to fetch water from the temple a lane away—which has got a water booster—and carry the water to the first floor. Last year in the summers we had faced similar problems. Water had eluded us for 10 days at a stretch. I am sick of this locality, sick of this darned Haiderpur gaon.

The other day, I shouted hard at God, called him names and told him if I had friends like him, then I am better off without enemies. But he doesn't listen. There are enemies. Why is he like that?

Reasons why I am frustrated...

2006-12-15T18:42:00.001+09:00

Ø I am going to miss out on an office party. Reason—practical exam for a subject that is just about useless and is called Radio Programme Formats. when the name of the paper is so dull and drab that one can very well imagine the content of the subject. And for such a subject, I am going to miss out on a rocking office party. :( :( :(

Ø This makes me regret why, in the first place, did I agree to join the stupid course. Why did I give in? I have nothing but my own weakness to blame for the same. But there is no use crying over spilt milk now. What had to occur has occurred and it cannot be changed as much as I may want a time machine to make the necessary changes.

Ø Another thing and this one is not my fault—that college is crap. My 54 grand stands wasted. The machines do not work properly and if they do, there is no electircity and there are no generators in our part of the world (read: campus. The other parts have been connected with the generator but it is only the Centre for Media Studies that has been singled out for this step-motherly treatment. If I try and be liberal, the faculty is just about average. We have been left like orphans, trying to find our feet in the University on our own with no one to help us. The weekend programme has been converted into a weekday programme to complete all the pending work beacuse the studios were not ready on time and we lost at least 2 months. Just to make the grim picture complete, the authorities have been made to feel as if we are not serious about our studies. I mean what the hell!

Ø On top of it all, my parents are not ready to admit that taking admission into this Goddamn university was a mistake. They feel they have done the right thing. One gets post-graduate degrees in any damned correspondence course from any non-descript university and that too in peanuts if it was just the degree that they were interested in. But no… they are always correct.

Yeah, I am frustrated. Anyone will be. Everything seems to predict just doom. Doom Doom Doom and Boom, I just blew up. Some day IP University, you are gonna pay. And I will make sure that day comes soon.

The friends who weren't

2006-11-13T21:39:00.000+09:00

Life charts its own course and there are things that are beyond your control. This is what Bhavya learnt the wrong way. A strong personality and a real hot-headed one too, she really trusted her friends. Although in school, she had always felt alone, she used to help her friends with their homework and all. She had been waging a battle against herself from the time she felt she had grown-up and her parents thought that she hadn’t. So, she decided in her parents’ favour and decided she hadn’t. She did whatever she was told, and learnt to keep a tight control over her needs and desires. She learnt how to pretend that she was happy, when she was not. She felt like committing suicide.

These friends of hers were her lifeline. They managed to keep her alive and kicking during those difficult days. They were able to bring a genuine smile on her lips even though her heart used to cry out at all times. Although she never told them her real feelings because she knew they wouldn’t understand, Bhavya still lived her life and tried to do that happily. She knew that these friends weren’t for real, that they would go away once they reached the first crossroad, but still she felt comforted in an odd manner. Perhaps, it was the fact that there were some people, who though cannot provide comfort, can at least provide her laughter though a short-lived one. She yearned for those bouts of laughter. Her fiery ways were gone as she was too busy trying to fight with herself and to hide her real feelings from the world outside—a world in which her parents lived and lived these so-called-friends. She helped them whenever she could, even though she knew she was being used. She let it happen and to feel happiness in a true manner, turned to books like Harry Potter, which although were a bit flighty in character, nonetheless, provided her the warmth of friendship.

Time passed by and it was time for the crossroad. She was thrown in a state of confusion, whether to be happy or to feel sad. However, it seemed that Mother Nature was smiling on her and she finally got what she wanted. Her parents deciding that she had finally grown-up, allowed her what she really wanted. She got it. She was ecstatic but had really no one except her parents to share her joy with as all her so-called-friends had deserted her and had become busy with their own careers. She didn’t blame them, for partly she was happy that this was a new beginning of sorts. And it was. She made new friends— good friends, real friends—who loved her for what she was, re-discovered herself. Discovered that she could be good, that there are people who respected her and her beliefs. That made Bhavya strong. That self-esteem which had taken a beating, raised its head yet again. She learnt how to live and live happily. Came another crossroad, but this time the friends remained with her. What’s more, she found a means to re-connect to her so-called-friends.

She got a job. She met those so-called-friends through Orkut. She thought may be we can really be friends this time. She met them quite some times and thought that they can be real good friends. But guess what, Mother Nature had thought of something else this time too. She gave a good dressing down to a school mate one day on what she thought and felt was wrong. But guess what, it turned out that the guy was one of the popular ones, and now nobody can come and take her side. Those people feel embarrassed to even wish her. They feel Bhavya is wrong, they feel she should not have said so. They know she is a strong girl and would not care about what they say and may be even give them a dressing down, they have left her alone. No one to talk to. Guess, she was wrong yet again. Guess, she again chose wrong people to be friends with. Guess, all those people are wrong about her as she still cares. Stop caring, will you? Be strong as always Bhavya, there are people in this world who care for you. Stop looking for those who were never there.

hehehehehehehehe

2006-11-10T16:33:00.000+09:00

http://next-stop-insanity.blogspot.com

ENJOY!!!!!!!!!

Wanted to say something

2006-11-03T19:46:00.000+09:00

Just wanted to say that it would be better if the readers of my blog post their names along with their comments. Just can't stand this anonymous thingy please. Not really in my nature to stand all kinds of suspense that anonymous posts bring with them. I am that sort of a person who reads the last pages of a mystery novel first just to know who-done-it. And imagine what sort of a torture you guys are inflicting on your poor devil by posting anonymous comments.

So, put down your real names please. I am not going to eat you up. See, am a pseudo-vegetarian. I do not eat non-veg until really forced to.

Miles to go...

2006-11-01T20:15:00.000+09:00

The woods are lovely dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

-By Robert Frost

(Quoted from his poem: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening)

The sting

2006-10-31T15:55:00.000+09:00

Yesterday while observing the people around me in the Metro train and looking for a story to put here, a sudden thought struck me. Considering the fact that I have been solving a lot of love-related problems over the week, I think I have become quite a pro. So yesterday I was merely thinking, what exactly is love. Pop comes the answer—it's a sting operation.

Just when your defences are on the lowest, it attacks you and that too at the most sensitive area—the heart. Just like in a sting operation, the journalist attacks a personality when his defences are at the lowest and at the most sensitive place—his fame, love does the same. The sting scars the personality's fame, love scars the heart. The heart bleeds and the fame bleeds.

One look at your face betrays the fact that you are in love; one look at the personality's face betrays that this is the bad guy. And you know that once you are in love, the news is sure going to leak—if not now, then at some other time, and you are gone. Same way, the news that you have done something wrong is going to leak any way. So an interesting comparison also crops up: LOVE=BAD GUY. And when you are a bad guy, the sting is deemed to follow.

And both—sting operation and love hurt. Both give you sleepless nights and both give you illusions of happiness. When the sting takes place, the celebrity feels happy as they have got a victim, you feel happy as you think you have found someone who may love you. But when reality dawns, life gets hell, and you go mad.

So beware, beware of the sting of love. And protect yourself.

Song that celebrates life

2006-10-17T19:38:00.000+09:00

Ever heard of this song from Hum Dono. This is a Sahir Ludhianvi creation and can best describe the way life should be led.

Main Zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya... Har fikr ko dhuen me udata chala gaya...

A song that conveys the essence of life. One shouldn't let worries bog us down and continue to live life as if nothing happened.

Barbadiyon ka soudh manana fizool tha... barbadiyon ka jashn manata chala gaya...
Main zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya... har fikr ko dhuen me.....

This is how you should take failures. One shouldn't let failure distract you from the real goal. Like sucess, failure also teaches us something and thus, should be a cause for happiness as well.

Jo mil gaya usi ko muqaddar samajh liya... jo kho gaya main usko bhulata chala gaya...
Main zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya... har fikr ko dhen me....

This is how you should losses. There is nothing on this Earth which is worth crying for; nothing without which you cannot live. Even if you loose something, that pain shouldn't keep you off from trying to attain greater heights.

Gham aur khushi me fark na mehsoos ho jahan... main dil ko us muqaam par laata chala gaya...
Main zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya... har fikr ko dhen me....

This is how you should handle happiness and sadness. One should't feel too elated in happiness and too dejected during times of distress.

However, this doesn't mean that you start living a mechanical life. One can be still human enough without letting small things bother us. Just remember nothing can be greater than life itself.

In want of something

2006-10-10T18:44:00.000+09:00

It’s just today I felt like writing something. Unable to find a real topic, I really don’t know what I am doing. It’s just this feeling of being able to write that gives me a high. But suddenly this feeling engulfs me—there are people who are unable to read and write, people who are still in the clutches of a disease called illiteracy, people who are still unable to get a high that I derive from being able to write. Even after we have entered the 21st century, even when we go on and on about India being on the brink of being a superpower, I see those kids clutching a bag full of rags, shivering in the harsh Delhi winter.

The government is trying, but what about us? Are we doing anything about this? We do feel outrage at the sight of these kids and people, but that feeling of outrage ebbs away when we step back into our own lives, we forget all about them as the humdrum of our lives gets too loud for us to hear the questions that their eyes ask of us. That feeling of kindness slowly and steadily gives way to indifference. We move away because by that time our ears have been rendered a little deaf by that loud noise of our life; but only a little as we can hear the noise not the whisper.

And then there are the complaints. The complaints about not having enough to lead a comfortable life; ask them what it means to be comfortable. For them it means being able to eat two decent meals, getting proper clothes to wear and a sound roof on there heads. Even that we haven’t been able to provide these people.

Okay, it seems the writing fever is wearing down. And me, it seems am slowly getting back to my old self; to that daily humdrum of life, too deaf to listen to their silent pleads for help and care. Back to my old guiltless self now.

P.S. It seems I finally found a topic to write on.

That Wretched feeling

2006-09-29T21:29:00.000+09:00

Sometimes this feeling of worthlessness creeps in your heart, casting a chill on all the other feelings. It makes you feel dreadful; it makes you feel negative and unable to understand anything that is going on in your life. You are unable to concentrate and get over it. Something or the other consistently bogs you down. And you… you just want to run away. Run away from everything and everyone who does that you to you; run away to a place that offers you the warmth of friendship and laughter. You long for a friend to come to your rescue and take you away to a place where nobody makes you feel uncomfortable, nobody discourages you and makes you feel wretched. Is there a place that can take this refugee and provide all the comfort and warmth, just to make her little heart feel a little less dreary?

A few questions...

2006-09-20T21:38:00.000+09:00

Where do you belong… I mean which state? What’s your caste? What religion do you belong to? These are the first questions that one is asked.

How does it matter where I belong? Is it really important to know which state I am from? How much does my religion play a role in my being a good or a bad person? Why does my caste matter so much? I have often seen my mother bobbing up and down whenever someone mentions that they are a Bhatnagar, she seems so happy just to meet them as if they belong to her family. I feel a pang of pain whenever she says that she won’t give her daughter to a Saxena family. Heaven forbid if I fall in love with a Muslim or a Scheduled Caste. She doesn’t look amused whenever my dad even jestingly says that he will marry me to a Scheduled caste as that would be a quite advantageous for my kids.

People say that India is the most discriminating society in this world. And I seem to agree. We may all rave about the tolerance levels of our country, about how secular we are, about how India is a country of unity in diversity, that how so many cultures are blended within that Indianness, that how we are one; the truth is that we may be one but that one betrays the many decimals that make that number, the cultures may have blended but there are people who seem to know just how to disintegrate that blend, there may be unity but sometimes the diversity defeats that unity, our secularism betrays signs of pseudo-secularism, and the tolerance levels are nothing to rave about. Gujarat witnesses small communal riots on a daily basis, which largely go unreported. Malegaon in Maharashtra is a communal tinderbox.

Why is it that today every Muslim is looked upon with a suspicious gaze? Why is it that many Christians do charity in the name of their religion? Why is it that Hindus are treated as second-rate citizens here? Why is it that vote-bank politics as well caste-based politics is still practiced in India? We get the leaders that we deserve and today our politics and politicians are playing politics of hatred, then we are to blame. We do vote on caste and religion lines.

Why? It is time, perhaps, that we ask ourselves these questions before it gets too late. Too late for us to be called a nation.

A Crazy Saturday Morning

2006-09-03T00:07:00.000+09:00

Sitting at the back and listening to a crazy woman speaking, can be like hell. But yes, being a devil, I am able to take things pretty comfortably at this point of time. That is beacuse, I am not really listerning to whatever crap she's belting out.

The crazy woman is talking about attitude, speaking all wrong English. I am trying to control my urge to go ahead and correct her. Hearing someone using all sorts of cliches like a glass of water half empty or half full, can seriously get you. But the fact that I am able to write without her noticing it, has come something as a fresh breeze of air. As it is the weather outside is so very 'sexy' (as my good friend Priyanka describes), I am really restraining myself to ask her to stop blabbing away.

She's asking me to bear with her, but I think that I really can't grant her that privilege. She's a nobody for me, and I don't think I can love her as a teacher because this God damn course has made me give up my weekends. And I hate anyone and anything that makes me do that. I love my weekends and giving them up is a pain in the most uncompfortable part (I think you know what part am talking about).

As another of my uncle-cum-classmate walks in, I wonder what made me crazy enough to give up my weekends just to let this shit of a woman spoil it by chattering her heart away. On this crazy Saturday, I can do nothing except repent at my foolhardyness

The villain

2006-08-20T00:27:00.000+09:00

Say villain and the first image that comes to the mind is:
Gabbar Singh saying, "Kitne aadmi they."
And then, Amrish Puri. "Mogambo khush hua."
Gulshan Grover. "Bad Man."
Shahrukh Khan. "K-K-K-K-Kiran" (Uff, the stutterer)

The last example is something that is very true to all love stories. Where is a love story, there is a villain. All the problems that occur in the love story are because of that villain. The vilalin will surface after the honeymoon period is over and leave behind a tale of destruction, agonies and loades of tears. (Sniff... Sniff... Pass that tissue please... The villain will leave behind a trail of trissues too.)

In Munnabhai MBBS, the villain was +(no, you guessed it wrong... it wasn't Boman Irani) Dr. Suman's love for her father.
In Page 3, it was the guy's ambition and his unscrupulous ways who were the villain.
In Darr, it was Shahrukh Khan.
In Padosan, it was Bhola's inability to sing.

Moving on to the world of books. In Romeo and Juliet, the lovers' families were the villains. In Harry Potter, it is Harry's destiny. In Othello, it was Iago who was the villain. Closer home, in Ramayana, it was Ravana who was the villain. (O a personal note though, I would rather have Ravana than three mothers-in-law.) In Devdas, it was the caste system that was the villain.

In my world, there have been several villains too. Although I have never been the protagonist of the love stories (more of the extra character), I have seen things going horribly wrong. The villains were: the physical distance between the two, the tendency to lie, libido, a troubled past, family.

Wonder who would be the villain if I am the protagonist of a love story. Hmmm hmmm hmmm. Eureka!!! I know it. It;s gonna be the devil and that's me, me, me.

A dangerous game may soon begin... (Abhishek Bachchan's dad. Oh! I love Abhishek Bachchan. Now if only I get him, I promise not to play villain.)

The dadi ma of traffic

2006-08-13T17:45:00.000+09:00

Cars and motorbikes. Trucks and buses. They all whizz past this gajagamini at a speed hardly visible to the naked eye. The gajagamini moves steadily and almost smilingly to herself as if it were the dadi ma of the traffic. Old, yet stable- almost like an old wine and now-a-days in a new bottle. After the IITians decided that rickshaw-walla bhaiyas would be better-off using these specially designed light rickshaws, these new bottles have been fastly replacing the old bottles in the by-lanes of Delhi. You'll find yourself lucky to find the older versions of cycle-rickshaws in Delhi today. May be in Purani Dilli.

With great impatience, I approached Hari, the Bihari rickshaw-wala bhaiya who hailed from Sirsa. Hari, his red T-shirt matching the red seat if the gajagamini, insisted that I pay him Rs 7 as he had to pay Rs 30 instead of the usual Rs 20 as the rickshaw rent. Moreover, with August 15 appeoaching, policemen had increased their pestering activities.

My growing impatience with the Universe (I returned home only to find it electricity-less. Hell! The Universe is out to get me) and the mounting interest in him persuaded me to give up my cribbing sessions of having to pay Rs 2 extra and to mount myself on the chariot. My Krishna (coincidence to the Mahabharata Krishna purely co-incidental... But hey!!!! I didn't notice that Krishna and Hari are the names of the Makhan-chor) started talking. "These policewallas are making life more and more difficult. If we get caught, we have to shell out Rs 600. After paying all sorts of rent, we are left with hardly Rs 100-125 in a day and Rs 600 comes as a big shock for us. We have to pay at least Rs 900 per month as rent. I live with 3 other people", he keeps on talking, like the Chameli of the movie Chameli, pointing expressedly to the policemen standing nearby.

"Don't you live with your family?", I goaded him into talking more. He shakes his head violently and goes on, "My family lives in the village. But there are several people here who live with their families." "So, when do you visit your family? Near Chath? (Chath is an important festival in Bihar. It is celebrated to mark the visit of Sri Ram to Bihar after he returned to Ayodhya from his Vanavas.)", I inquired. "Yes. I catch the North- east from New Delhi Raliway Station", he replied taking his eyes off from the road for a moment to look at me, eyes wondering why on earth this girl is asking so many questions.

"Do you know how to read and write? Till where have you studied?", my journalistic instinct had told me to loose all shame and ask more questions as it had the makings of a perfect little anecdote. "Yeah. I know how to read and write. I have studied upto class V. But I know only Hindi. I don't understand English", he adds sheepishly, almost ashamed. But he adds defensively, " We weren't taught English at that time before class VI. But today, even the little kids are taught English." He repeats the last line 2-3 times to strengthen the arguement that it wasn't really his fault that he didn't understand English. I agreed and mumbled a few incomprehensible sentences in agreement which Hari really didn't listen as he was already well into his story. "But I read the newspapers. These roadside vendors know me well." He puufs his chest, looking as proud as Aishwarya Rai while poiting at the newspaper vendors sitting by the road.

I noticed that it was time that I got off my stead and proceed towards my divine electricity-less abode. I ask Hari to stop the rickshaw-cum-dadi ma near the bend and climbed down clumsily. (Eating too many potatoes has turned me into a couch potato, I observe silently.) I pay him Rs. 7, never really feeling the Rs. 2 pinch as I had got the story that was much worth the extra 200 pasie I had to shell out.

Journalism is a dog's business, I conclude (Sorry, a bitch).
{But really, you guys should rather not repeat the last sentence. Remember, am a devil, out to get everyone.}

Crossroads....

2006-08-05T23:14:00.000+09:00

Yeah, this is what happens in life... Life moves on and sometimes... no... most times leaves a lot to be desired... You are forced to move on in life, leaving the people you knew, behind... Move, move and move.....

I believe the first time when you encounter a crossroad is when you leave school, the langotia yaars, the school teachers who have always protected you and guarded ypu from dangers... School offers a very protective environment which you surely miss when you move out into the real hell... You are afraid of the changes and yet excited... sad too at the thought of leaving behind your friends, you are sure that you will always stay in touch with them... Only later do you realise that this wasn't as easy as you had thought it would be...

Enter the next crossroad of life- College... New friends and new found freedom... Ego clashes and losses... Fun and growing up, tensions of getting into a new life... Trying to find a love for yourself and felling frustrated when you don't... thinkimg that perhaps the fault lies with you... But still managing to have a lot of fun... enter the third year and you are in doldrums at having to loose these friends of yours as by now the school experience has taught that it is really difficult to re-live the memories of the previous mile-stone... you leave college...

The next big crossroad- Job... You land up with a job, people start looking at you with exoectations, your family starts behaving differently... Complainimg that you don't have time for them and things like that... saying that your attitude has changed and you hav become too conceited now and selfish too... When in reality it is not you has changed but it is the circumstances that have changed....

The crossroads come and go and leave ypu with varied tastes in mouth, you want to move and yet try to take that past with you... But time is like sand, it slips from your hand without your knowing that it has moved away leaving you mesmerised, shocked, pained and yet happy

That's life

The Night Sky

2006-08-02T20:11:00.000+09:00

The Photograph is churaya hua... But I have always loved it... DT taught me how to upload the photograph... so i decided this photo must go... No one should have any problems...

World's like that- Part II

2006-07-30T23:21:00.000+09:00

People may wonder at the bullshit I talked about in my last post. Why I call the world a hellish place and things like that. They may think that I don't love this world, they may think that I am fed up of this life. The fact is that I love living in this hell. It is full of devils like me and that's why I like being in my (for the want of a better word, I am forced to use this) biradari. Oh yes, they stamp on your foot to get in front of you, but they say sorry as well. Oh yes, they end up hurting you, but they make you learn tyo stand independently and lick your own wounds, to bear that pain and misery and seek solace from ypurself and from Him.

This hell has different colours- colours of love coupled with fears, with hatred and jealousy, colours of care along with flashes of selfishness and ego, anger along with love and violence at the same time... It's a funny place actually. It makes you laugh and cry at the same time, it shocks you and teaches you, it's fun, dangerous and secure too. It's simple yet complex.

There are people out there out to eat you up whereas there are people who help you sustain that pressure, then there are people whom you love and there are those who love you, things can be vice versa. You need to be selfish and at the sane time unselfish too. And the first thing you need to do to understand this world is to understand yourself.

I hav accepted myself as a part of this unovese, someone who is a bit about everything, confused yet quick at taking decsions, insecure yet aggresive, foolish yet clever (call me shrewd if u want u, I will never call myself that), selfish yet sensitive...

I am like that only; even the world is like that.
Be what you are and do what you want to because those who mind do not matter, and those who matter do not mind...
Don't walk this world as if you own it, walk as if you don't care who does.

World’s like that

2006-07-29T12:46:00.000+09:00

Sometimes, this world can be like a black man’s left ass- neither right, nor fair. Yeah, I know I’ve stolen the line… So what? Half the world’s ideas are stolen things… If Hedgewar hadn’t stolen Hitler’s idea of an army, would there have been an RSS… No. Simple isn’t it… However, m not here to discuss religious sentiments or the apparent lack of it… Even though I am thinking of plaguing you guys with that. But this is not the right time to do that…

I will though and I promise you guys that… And usually I am firm on my promises (usually i.e.). Anyways, so I was talking about the world. Yeah, the world is a rotten place to live in… People here change at the drop of the hat, and usually that change pricks you at the most inappropriate place… and you are bang on target in thinking which place am talking about.

U guys must be thinking, “It seems the devil has been pricked by someone today.” Here I will gladly inform you that it isn’t the case. I had a perfectly happy day at office… It was just today I was standing near the window of the Metro absorbed in my musings, that a thought suddenly entered my mind. Why am I a devil- a devil that doesn’t belong to any1 neither does it want to belong to anyone… What made me a devil like that?

I suppose I got the answer… My becoming a devil has everything to do with this world, which is becoming hell-ish day by day. And angels don’t survive in Hell, you need to be a devil to survive in Hell. So, I decided to evolve into one as well (Darwin’s theory of Evolution comes into the picture here).

Yeah, I know u wud say that I am pointing my finger at the world and forgetting that four are pointing towards mine… Yeah I know that… But ever thought why I am ready to pick up a fight with everyone? Because today everyone is fighting for their existence… U move in a Metro, there you have to literally fight with people to get out because on the other side, there is a huge wave of people coming in from other side, which doesn’t care that you have to get down. That’s why I am so competitive… I have to be… Otherwise, I am dead (Darwin’s survival of the fittest comes in here).

Yes, Darwin I fully agree with u… Darwin Zindabad.

marriages made in hell

2006-07-20T18:57:00.000+09:00

yeah, I picked this title from Today...
but the thoughts are mine... ok?
My friend Siddharth Sharma was disappointed with my first post... i see that he wants to know more abt me... well, Mr. Sharma, it isn't so easy to know so much about me in a very short span of time... U need to try harder...

Now about marriages... Marriages may be made in heaven, but they become hell on earth... oh yes, they do... There is nothing like they lived happily ever after.... That happens only in movies and let me tell you it's nothing but a bit of crap... A sucker for happy endings is telling you that... So you ought to believe me... And you better believe me... otherwise.... U know what to expect...

You start off your marriage expecting everything is gonna be hunky-dunky-enter-the Honeymoon phase- You laugh, laugh, feel happy and think now that ur love is near you everything is going to be well... You think it's cute when he asks for that towel that he left behind, you think, she's cute when she says that you do not know how to cook...

Two months later-enter-the real phase- You start arguing... You feel irritated whenever he asks for that towel, you feel insulted when she says you do not know how to cook... Hell breaks loose.... And then u have kids and your life turns into a shit... The romance goes down the drain and you end up worrying about the kids' future, their studies and their career....

After that you grow old... thats the whole story...

So, man go out and flirt... Have live-in relationships... enjoy the honeymoon period and then when the real period starts... Leave... HAVE FUN

P.S. but i would like to go through all this hell.... And why- DEVILS RESIDE IN HELL

what about me

2006-07-18T14:33:00.000+09:00

Yeah this is my first post, so you would do better not to criticise it... And before I write any more, I would like You guys to know that i like writing full words... I hate using words like m and u for am and you... And even if I use them, u people have no right to complain because this is my blog and I am gonna do exactly what I want to...

By now, you would have guessed it that am a dictator... Ok yes i am, what can you about it... As far as I am concerned, nothing... I am used to getting my way often but now and then I do relent and let other people have their way... So, am a bit of a mad dictator... So, am not really like Hitler... And don't even try to compare me to him because if u do, I can kill as well...

So, what else is left about me to know... Ok what do I do... Well I was born with a perennial blue pen in my hand... I have a fetish for finding faults with others and have made a career out of it...

And there is one thing that I just can't stop thanking God about... That the stork delievered me on time... Had it not, I would have been born on Fools' Day and made a fool out of myself... Now it is the other way round... I make fools of others....

By the way, do you guys have nothing to do? Going through a mad devilish sub-editor's blog... Oops, I let that slip... Well whatever, I did that deliberately...

So, I was saying that do something else, u won't find anything better in this blod except mad rants and raves... And if you plan to read my future posts as well, I would like to say, don't ever criticise me... And remember the apostrophe... Never insult an apostrophe in front of me!!!

Because I am a devil who belongs to no one... I AM NOBODY'S DEVIL