EM vs MI

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

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.......

Lazybones

Me hates morning walks... :'(

Repeat... That's the whole tragedy

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!

Some Cribs and a Wish List

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!

To add to it....

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...

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

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.

In want of something

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

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...

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

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

World's like that- Part II

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

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

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