Little Black Book

Chapter 2 - The Sleuths

2011-12-13T14:51:00.001+05:30

*201Swann Street, 2004*

The phone rang again, as it had beenfor the last twenty minutes. Andy switched on the bedside lamp, blinkingrapidly trying to get used to the harsh light. He hoped that the remnantvisuals of the rather disturbing dream involving lumberjacks, Alfie, and arather menacing dog snapping at his legs would dissipate. He wiped the sweatoff his brow, realizing that the weird tune he heard in his dream was the phoneringing.

The clock mocked him, as its lightsflashed quarter to five. He silently moaned as he reached for the phone. Heglanced at Alfie, who was blissfully snoring, his breath reeking of cheapwhisky and a swirling concoction of smells which could be best described as awaste treatment facility of a rather popular brand of cologne. The pristinewhite pillow case wore a darker shade of drool dribbling out of Alfie’s openmouth. Spit bubbles being born and dying out his noxious little orifice. Noneof which helped Andy lighten up or distract him from the fact that somebodydared to call at a time when even the diligent and hardworking elves unionforbade them from working.

‘This better be good’, Andy groggilythreatened into the phone receiver, while he wondered if he should switch onthe bed side lamp and then decided against it.

‘Good? This will give you both a bonerthe size of Mt. Kilimanjaro... Is he up?’ The voice on the other end with theheavy French accent seemed to be yelling over the din created by what seemedlike heavy machinery being operated. Andy deduced the background noise to bebunch of men grunting while working with shovels and yelling out instructionsto each other to be careful.

‘It is 5 in the morning Eugene. So heis not awake and neither am I’ , Andyreplied curtly while brushing his palm against his dry lips and oily face, the caller’sexcited energy clearly upset Andy more than it normally would have. The callerwas Eugene-François, a good natured officer who was their liaison. Eugeneworked for the newly created and yet to be named department under the purviewof Interpol. The department was created and resourced so as to address thecases which were clearly and inarticulately labeled as being weird. The otherdepartments which found its resources and time being wasted by this newly foundoutfit and by the people hired as consultants, had been kind enough to havechristened the department as TheDepartment of Weird or ‘DW’ as the slang which had evolved after muchbickering and bitching. By special directive of the department head of this yetto be named department, the twins had been hired as outside consultants. And itwas Eugene’s job to bear their collective wrath and put up with theirtemperamental nature.

‘Désolé… Désole.’, Eugeneapologized and let the cold dead air envelope him further before he found hishands going numb with the wait and the cold.

‘Well? Wake him up! He is going to love it! I tell you…He is going to love it… Sending a car around to pick you both up... Should bearound the corner’ Eugene continued, his infectious albeit slightly misplacedenergy creeping back into his voice, given the time and not really waiting forAndy’s response.

Click. Andy hung up. He had heard all thathe needed to hear. He couldn’t bear to listen to Eugene’s French so early inthe morning. Morning. The sky was still dark, just like his mood. And knowingEugene and his annoying habit, Andy wondered if the car was already waiting forthem downstairs.

‘Alfie! Alfie! ‘ Andy whispered, as hegently poked Alfie in his guts, knowing well that gentle and subtle was notreally Alfie’s style.

‘ALFIE !’ Andy pulled Alfie’s hairaside and yelled, giving vent to his sour mood and his morning breath.

‘WHA ? WHA ?’ Alfie woke up with astart, books tumbling down the side of his bed, while his hands instinctivelyreached for the cricket bat lying down on the floor next to the books.

‘Eugene called.’ Andy spoke matter offact while he watched Alfie roll his tongue around his teeth and thenmasticating on whatever he found interesting lodged in his molars.

‘Yeah ! So ? It is five AM! ‘ Alfieyelled as he looked over Andy at the clock, before spitting out the lastshredded and chewed upon piece of meat lodged in his teeth.

‘He sounded pretty excited aboutwhatever it was that was exciting him.’ Andy wiped his face, brushing off thelast veils of sleep and the images from the disturbing sleep.

‘Eugene is always excited aboutsomething. What does that French bastard want now?’

‘I don’t know. He just told us to getready and come wherever he was. He said you will love it.’

‘He always says that about everything.Did he say where to come?’

‘No he didn’t. I am guessing thedriver ought to know where.’

‘You know the driver doesn’t talk.That is what the word mute means you know.’ It was Alfie’s turn to show hisdispleasure at having his blissful, alcohol induced sleep disturbed.

‘We’ve got to get ready. He is sendinga car to pick us up.’ Andy ignored and continued to relay the message orwhatever he could remember. Just for a fleeting second, Andy wondered if he hadreally answered the call or if it was part of his elaborately detailed dream.He seemed to be having a lot of them off late.

‘Now?’ Alfie said as he stretched and yawned.

‘For the love of god and all that isholy, please brush your goddamn mouth with some industrial strength cleaners.You smell like badgers and raccoons made themselves a nest in there.’ Andy saidin mock irritation, smiling at the bewildered look on Alfie’s face.

‘So we don’t know why we are awake orwhere we are going?’

‘No! But it is time you woke up and gotready! The car should be here anytime now.’

‘I bet he found something new...’Alfie tried to hypothesize a logical and reasonable theory for him to be awakewhile jumping out of bed trying to shake his body out of the lethargic state itseemed so content with.

‘Oi! Easy now!’ Andy moved sluggishly,still considering whether to tell Alfie about his dream and then decidingagainst it.

Asthey tied their shoe laces, Alfie exclaimed, ‘I have a good feeling about this…And are you sure Eugene said that I would be happy?’

‘Yes. You are always happy when youhave a new case’ Andy replied, shaking his head.

‘Though, I really did wish he wouldhave called couple of hours later. I could have done with some more sleep.’

‘Being dragged out of bed at five inthe morning is not really your thing, is it? Especially when you are hung overlike a horse’ Andy quizzed with a smile.

‘Well, don’t really have much choicein this matter now do we?’ Alfie chuckled at the quip, as they walked down thestairs to find the car waiting for them.

‘Look at you! Smiling like a kid whojust been promised by Santa that all of his wishes will be granted thisChristmas.’

‘What look? If you ask me, anything isbetter than just moping about in our apartment waiting for something excitingto happen. You said so yourself!’ Alfie said as he rolled down the window onhis side trying to hide the glee which was spreading its warmth across his faceas the cold wind blew and the car sped into the early morning light.

The brothers looked outside the carwindow, silently and stoically, each lost in his own thoughts, one smilingsinisterly wondering what awaited them, while the other frowned and cursednature for having played such a cruel trick on them.

‘Good thing that we don’t shareconsciousness and conscience, wouldn’t you say?’ Andy spoke, shredding thesilence that had enveloped the car.

Alfie continued smiling, as he absentmindedly ran his fingers over the imaginary seams where their bodies wereconjoined, as the car sped on.

AL.AN - The Origins (Prologue)

2011-12-12T11:43:00.001+05:30

*Prologue*

It was a quiet night.Much like the ones before that night and much like the ones after that. Butsomething was intent on shattering the silence of that night. Like a naughtykid left alone at home.

The shadows of the night shone off a lonelyfigure walking across the empty streets, save for a warring pack of stray dogs,piss marking their territory, sniffing each other’s bottoms and trying to climbon top of each other and moving about like an out of control piston. The soundsof muffled footsteps made them flip their heads with perked up ears. The figureslithered through the night, the hemline of its light summer dress flirted withher knee length boots. She pulled the hood over her head and dug inside thepockets searching for something. The cold misty air from her button-like nosecaused turbulence in the still air. The territorial pack responded reflexivelyto this intrusion of their privacy and space and got behind its leader to takethe first course of action. They circled, growled and barked to intimidate,their eyes glowed with anger and intent.

Anita stopped for amoment to light up her cigarette, when she looked up, she saw the angry pack.She ignored them and continued walking. She didn’t feel like getting into troubletoday. She just wanted to be left alone. By now it was a matter of pride andego for the resident pack of dogs. They growled and barked louder, it was whenthey started clipping at her heels that she stopped again and surveyed the packfor its leader. There he was, his skin spotted like a Swiss cow, the hair onhis back standing like a roman legion on a war path, his fluorescent eyesgauging his victim for any sign of fear or weakness. She saw the door ajar of aderelict building out of the corner of her eyes. She walked a few steps to theleft, the dogs circled in closer, the air was terse with tension. They knew itwas time to go for the kill. The barking menace crept higher and higher, along withtheir advancing paws. The leader of the pack, leapt forward, aiming for herthroat.

One blink and you missspeed, she grabbed the leader by the fur on its neck, in a swift turn of aseasoned stunt bike rider pulling off a regular skid, she banged the door shuton the rest of the pack. Suddenly with no leader, the blood thirsty territorialpack kept pawing at the door wanting to be let into what they now considered tobe a private party. But this was no party they wanted to be a part of.

‘You really shouldn’thave’, Anita reprimanded the dog as she smirked in annoyance while holding thedog by its neck, suspending it in mid – air, like a harmless earthwormsquirming to get free. The moonlight streaked through the broken and blacked-outwindows of the building tagged ‘to-be-demolished’. It made her eyes seem evenmore evil than the eyeless skull sticking out in the graveyard. Like a powerfulyogic master, she pushed the face of the dog between its front legs. Holdingthe legs together, she reached into her jacket pocket for her trustedswitchblade. And in five swift and swish moves, she made the alpha dog of thepack turn into a cuddly soft toy, as she deftly cut away at the tendons joiningthe hind legs to its hips, the front legs to its torso and distending hisball-sac. She dropped his incapacitated blood spewing body down on the groundwith contempt.

As the dog lay therewithering and moaning in pain, Anita’s eyes changed color as the shiny palemoon light glistened against the dark, shiny, oily blood of the dog, which wasquickly taking shape of a vile and wet death bed. She squatted next to the dog,marveling at the spurts of blood the arteries sprinkled.

‘‘Awww… are you in paindoggie?’’, Anita asked with concern underlining every single syllable utteredfrom her child like innocent voice. The dog continued to moan and convulse itsbody with pain.

‘STOP MOVING YOU STUPIDDOGGIE AND ANSWER ME!’ Anita yelled, her shouts muffled by the punches shethrew on the dog’s furrow browed face. The fury of punches finally stopped andso did the dog. Its skull broken in seven different places and its brain servedas mashed potatoes on the hard concrete floor plate.

‘Doggie? Doggie?’,Anita questioned again like a little girl asking her mother about thewhereabouts of her favorite doll.

ps: Would be nice if you actually take the time out and read the whole damn thing.

pps: Let me know what you lot thought about it. Hated it/Loathed it

Alphabets - How I imagine them to be

2011-12-07T12:17:00.001+05:30

Ihave been thinking about this for quite some time. And by this, I mean, tryingto give new images to the alphabets than the ones which are ingrained by rotein my memory.

A - The traintracks stretch out for miles. And somewhere out in the distance as you stickyour head out of the train, they merrily meet at the questionable horizon. Makesyou want to question everything you learned about parallel lines back inschool. Fills you with doubt, fills you with hope. The miles stretch on.Somewhere in the middle of all this lies a shortcut, a portal which allows you toswitch between your alter egos residing in parallel universes.

B – Pair ofglasses, Apple bottom, Fly on the wall, a butterfly breaking out of a cocoon ora heaving bosom in a wonder bra. Never have two curves made you marvel at the non– linearity present around you as you watch your gaze shift from the mirror toyour own body and then the person sleeping next to you.

C – Ear, nose,thumb, a really fat finger waving through the air like a sparkler.

D – The heel ofone’s boots, the one which sends you the hospital bed. Broken saloon door,which no longer swings open to your soul.

E – The devil’sfork or just the salad fork used by vegetarians to eat their salads. The g –string underwear sticking out of the girl’s jeans as she leans and holds herboyfriend tightly as he whizzes by you, while you wait for a bus.

F – That confusingturn on the map, irrespective of the one you take, it leaves you stranded andstaring at a dead end. This is what Robert Frost wrote about.

G – A Greekhorse shoe, resistance in the wrong way, the weakness of ohm exposed or a keyhole through which the hapless kid plays a witness to the bollywood villain slayinghis/her family.

H – A ropebridge across a cliff, whose reflection in the shimmering burning hot sunrefracts your fear of heights.

I – The beginningof most doodles or doodie or a tally mark for the nano second of boredom youfelt when you wanted to write a list but couldn’t be arsed about it.

J – The hook bywhich the captain was recognized with. The one which he used to pick his nosewith or tended to the wedged underwear or jus the finger which lets you getclose to that last bit of jelly in the bottle.

K – The bull’seye after Little John and Robin Hood had finished with their pissing contest orthe drawing which Zeus discarded when he was designing his staff, whicheventually gave him the idea for organization hierarchy of gods and heroes.

L – The unfortunate leg whichmost people generally end up losing in an accident. It is usually one leg, ifthe movies I have watched are anything to go by.

M – This is howI imagine a male porn star looks like with speedos on.

N – A onelegged male porn star with speedos on.

O – The thingyou mouth makes when you are surprised by the sudden introduction of a fingerup your bum. The finger doesn’t belong to you. That is why you are surprised.

P – The waysnoopy the dog looks like with no tail, eyes, hands or legs.

Q – Elephant’sbottom, cannon ball, mouse (the optical and the cheese eating one), the helium balloonyou bought and set it free just to see how far in the sky it goes, hopingagainst hope that it now resides peacefully and happy somewhere in outer space.

R – Snoopy thedog with morning wood or just really wanting to go have a wee.

S – That annoyingbra hook which causes blood to flow upwards. It is also the shape of your sphincterwhile you try to figure how to open the gateway to heaven or giant nippleageare.

T – Streetlightunder which people tend to have their split personality kick their bottombleeding raw. Or just a normal regular street light which whispers your nameout in the dead of the night, luring you with promises of pleasure of physicaland chemical kind.

U – How Iimagine hemorrhoids looks like under a X – ray. Or it could just be Moby Dick’s lonetesticle. The other one is with Captain Ahab or, Ishmael as he likes to becalled if you are on a first name basis with him.

V – If you flexyour biceps, the way the skin folds at your elbows. That is what I was told thelady bits look like when I was kid.

W – Madonna andher claim to fame. And I am not talking about her songs.

X – Scissorsisters. The sex thing not the band.

Y – Martini.Neither shaken, nor stirred, just standing still. Also a sign that you had arather out of turn posh night.

Z – Just afancy looking S. Reckon this is how comic sans was born. Also... ZORRO!

Ps:I think somewhere down the line, I got bored. Not sure where, but somewhere.

Mere Brother Ki Dulhan – A non romantic con

2011-09-11T01:58:00.000+05:30

Directedby first time director Ali Abbas Zafar and produced by Yash Raj Films, MereBrother Ki Dulhan is a take on the age old bollywood formula of love triangles.We have been conditioned to foresee the end even before we step into the theater. And you are not surprised by the end of the movie. Love triangles tothe Indian audiences are much like comfort food. But this comfort food was neither comforting noredible.

AliZafar, makes his debut as the ‘brother’, the third corner in the triangle. Andbrightly does this corner shine. Imran Khan, reprises his role as the boy nextdoor, Katrina is the Dulhan, completing the triangle. The movie is pegged as aromantic comedy. The romance is missing and the comedy is spread far and thin. Butthe movie does have its plus points, they are few in number, but they arethere. Starting with the revelation that Katrina can dance. She did prove itwhen she was Sheila, but this movie makes you take note that she is not just apretty face gyrating, but an actress dancing. She brings vivacity to her role,especially the bits where she plays being drunk.

ImranKhan seems to be getting quite cozy in the city bred chocolate boy mould, theLondon returned Ali Zafar sounds more rustic and in character than Imran Khan.True that the story doesn’t demand great histrionics from the actors, but youjust wish a connect with the lead characters wa established with the audience. Themusic is the real hero of the movie. And there comes a time when you wishedthat the music was not really incorporated in the movie and was part of a musicvideo album. The YRF stamp is there to see in the song productions, but can’textend this statement to the rest of the movie.

The moviefor me fails primarily because of the excessive depreciation of ‘filminess’ inthe movie. The movie seemed like a hangover of Namaste London. The differencebeing that the movie is set in India, Imran Khan plays the role essayed byKatrina in the first half. Things begin to get tolerable with the entry of AliZafar, but after his exit, the movie drags on for an excess 25 mins longer thanit should have.

Bottom line – I would exchange my tickets of Mere Brother Ki Dulhan formultiple viewings of Bodyguard.

A moment to Remember – They don’t make movies like these since 2004.

2011-09-10T11:42:00.000+05:30

Can yourecall the last movie which made you drop your defenses and your cynical viewof the world and relationships? Can you recall the last movie which made youyearn for something which you knew was all reel but you hoped that it was real?Can you recall the last movie which made you invest so much in the leadcharacters that you forgot where you were and cried your soul out? Can youremember the last movie which made you reminiscence of a time when you trulyand really believed in fairy tales?

I do,well some of them anyway, couple of movies do pop in mind which might answermost of the questions I ask, ‘Jerry Maguire’, ‘Love Story’, ‘The Notebook’ and ‘50First Dates’. But if you look at the release dates of each of these movies,Jerry Maguire – 1996, Love Story – 1970, The Notebook – 2004, 50 First Dates –2004, it has been more than a decade since I have seen these movies.

2004, apparentlyseems to be the year, fairy tales for the new century were written andtranslated on screen. One movie which seem to have missed the public eye, muchlike the solitary tear you wipe away after you have decided that you have criedyour heart out was ‘A Moment to Remember’.

‘A Momentto Remember’ is a South Korean movie, based on a Japanese television drama; theSouth Korean title literally translates as ‘Eraser in My Head’. It is a simple story about a young girl and ayoung guy, who meet, fall in love, get married and then the girl begins to losememory. It may sound like just any other movie, this review may read like justanother review, but it is not.

The storyis simple and unassuming like a cotton thread, sewing the many stories in themovie together. The crux of the story is about a girl meets boy. But it is somuch more than that. Apart from being a love story, it is also a story about afather – daughter relationship, a story about ex – lovers, a story about anestranged mother and her son, a story about a student seeking his mentor’svalidation. The movie was like a multilayered chocolate cake. Each layertelling a story of its own, but at the end of the day it is a simple lovestory.

A lovestory for which I needed subtitles to understand the dialogues, a love storywhere you don’t have to verbalize every single thought, a love story wheresongs played in the background, a love story which made me bawl my eyes outlike a pregnant cloud exploding over a parched piece of farm land.

ALL theactors, including the extras play along like pieces of a jigsaw, fittingthemselves snugly into what is a beautiful mosaic of a sad love story. But themovie is all about the lead pair of Son Ye-Jin and Jung Woo-Sung. Their facesextending as canvases on which their characters paint with different emotions,resulting in nothing less than a renaissance. Son Ye-Jin’s face is like pale porcelain,radiating with elegance, and when it cracks, the sound resonates in your heart,mind and soul long after the movie ends. Jung Woo-Sung’s face is scruffy,hiding behind it all the mystery and pain, and when he clean shaves it, theache in his heart and mind scream in your psyche.

If youhave watched enough love stories, you will spot the multi amalgamation pointsof different movies. You will find traces of ‘Love Story’, ‘50 First Dates’ and‘The Notebook’. But you disregard them all. All because of the emotions on thecharacter’s faces in the extremely close shots mirror yours, because, you see thephysical and emotional breakdown of characters in those medium shots as youfind yourself breaking down and wiping the first traces of wetness off yourcheeks. And these images play like a bass note to the treble note of aerial andlong shots of beautiful breath taking scenery.

Writtenby Yeong-ha Kim and John H. Lee (who also is the director). And as far as this movieis concerned, take my word and do NOT watch it with your other half. Watch italone, with a box of tissues for company and hope that your story plays likethis one and ends with a happy ending.

The Girl in Yellow Boots - Mr. & Mrs. Kashyap, take a bow.

2011-09-09T15:48:00.001+05:30

Written by the newly married couple ofAnurag Kashyap and Kalki Koechlin, ‘The Girl in Yellow Boots’ is like a blackmoor fish, swimming alone in a pond filled with gold and koi fish. The girl inyellow boots is a story about an English girl named Ruth who comes to India insearch for her father. And in her search she comes across the myriad characterswho make you smile, squirm, make you react physically and verbally. The whysand the how of the search for her father form most of the screenplay, and it inthese areas that the writer duo shines. The detailed shots are a joy to watchand, it makes you think about the possible symbolism of every single artifactwhich is in focus and even those which are out of focus. The silence in thefirst half of the movie forms as much as a part of the background score as thehaunting and lilting rustic music by Naren Chandavarkar in the second half.

The movie progresses like the rising tide. Slowto begin with, and for those who don’t enjoy sitting at the edge of the beachwatching the wave’s crash on the shore, the stark and almost documentary like Doordarshanproduction of the movie, especially in the opening scenes may well put you off.Watching this movie is just as hypnotic as watching tides crash on the shore. Youare mesmerized, intrigued and almost drawn into this guilty, voyeuristic view ofthe girl in the yellow boots. The movie is dark in its tonality, but ispunctuated with short, stellar and brilliant performances by Gulshan Devaiya asChittappa, the kannada speaking gangster, Naseerudin Shah, as Ruth’s wellwisher, Pooja Swaroop as Maya, Ruth’s employer and owner of the massage parlor.

The movie definitely deserves its label asa thriller, with red herrings peppering the screen, as Ruth continues yoursearch for her father. And it is the waythe movie ends that leaves you with answers and new questions of your own. ThisI suppose is what the director intended for the audience to feel as they emptytheir seats and leave the hall. There are many reasons why the director wantedthe movie to be screened without any intervals, the movie’s runtime is about 79minutes, and the movie has this shadow like quality which the viewerexperiences, inducing a break in this experience would probably not leave youwith the same impact as the director intends to and succeeds rathermagnificently.

Indie movies are no longer considered indiemovies anymore with the advent of multiplexes, but if the audiences want tosupport art which is not a rehash or a remake of something, then ‘The Girl inYellow Boots’ would be a lovely venture to support. And be prepared to discussthe movie, especially the ending with your friends after you are done watchingthe movie. This one is for true cinephiles and for people looking for originaland hatke stories.

Brilliant Cinema

2011-06-08T13:05:00.002+05:30

It has been quite some time since I wrote something which wasn't fiction. Have been doing couple of things since the work has almost dried up and I have oodles of time left on my hands. Been reading 'The Best American Noir of the Century', which is an anthology of completely and utterly brilliant noir stories from the pulp fiction era. The stories are compelling enough for me to tweet about it from the phone, but not enough for me sit in the laptop and write. So, I took a break last night from hibernating underneath my duvet, Bangalore is really cold at this time of the year, especially for this time of the year. And my break consisted of watching X – men first class. Which was a good fare, nothing too great or too bad, but you do realize that Professor X is a massive twat and you are suddenly cheering for Magneto. And then I started listening to Simon Mayo and Mark Kermode's movie review podcast.

Now this podcast has become my benchmark for what movie reviews should be like. So on one of the podcasts, Asif Kapadia, director of Senna was a guest on the show. And while they spoke about the movie, I put the movie on the download queue. Now, I have heard and read about Aryton Senna. I may have even watched some of his races on Doordarshan, but I can't really say for sure. The podcast got over and so did the download. It was about 3 in the morning, I wanted to sleep and considering the movie was a documentary. A documentary about a renowned formula – 1 driver (who I didn't know much about0, about a sport which had successfully put me to hypnotic sleep (every single time. And I have done it just thrice till now), I reckoned I would be asleep by the time the movie hit the half an hour mark.

The movie got over at about half past five in the morning. My palms and the back of my hands were wet from wiping the manly tears which seemed to be pouring over my general face area. And I slept like a donkey, with a smile pasted on my face which I believe would have been reminiscent of a well fed and burp induced baby. So when I woke up in the morning and was having my morning coffee, I suddenly realized what makes good cinema and what makes brilliant cinema. Now bear with me, as this is bit of a long explanation.

Now, I realized that brilliant cinema are stories which alternatively make you, the viewer, feel alone, and by alone, I mean just you and your emotions cocooned in a bubble, even if you are in a group. And at times makes you want to turn around and make contact with fellow humans. And this contact could be in any form, a smile, exclamations in unison as a group, [Usually with me and my mates it is usually "DUDE!" or "FUCK!"] or an extended conversation during the movie as the images continue to stream past you on the screen. Brilliant cinema makes you go through all of these emotions during the course of the movie. Very few movies manage to transcend the mythical thin line demarcating good cinema and brilliant cinema.

Good cinema on the other hand has varied definitions, it could be the performance of the lead or supporting actors, it could be the story which engages you, and you talk about it with your mates, probably even insist on them watching it. It probably even takes you out on an emotional roller coaster ride. But the mythical thin line which I was talking about earlier, which separates the good cinema from brilliant cinema is the, inability(?) or failure(?) to cocoon the viewer with an emotional bubble of their own making. And when you watch something like 'Senna', this thin, mythical, imaginary line gets magnified into the proportions of the Berlin wall.

This is the same reason why I suppose I consider Renuka Sahne falling down the stairs as brilliant cinematic moment and Shahrukh Khan rising from underneath hockey sticks in the climax of DDLJ as good cinema. Why the climax of Rang De Basanti is cinematic brilliance and the torture scene in Casino Royale is really good cinema. Why Titanic is brilliant and Avatar considered technologically ground breaking stuff. I think I am just rambling at this point of time. All I can say is go watch Senna. It is not about Formula -1 racing, it is not about the man, it is about the legend. Very few legends exist in this day and age, we as a generation have grown up with fleeting heroes. Very few people have lived their lives like gladiators, and very few have managed to get their legend travel beyond the walls of the coliseums. And the few ones who have, need to have a fitting tribute written, sang and shared with the rest of the world.

Vodafone – Superweak

2011-05-05T23:19:00.001+05:30

Vodafone is a mobile service provider. It is easy to confuse it with a hip – hop or a R&B star, especially considering the many avatars it has undergone, much like Prince, P. Diddy or James Hetfield's facial hair.

Now that we know what Vodafone is, let me also tell you when I am traveling, especially when am traveling, being connected via my mobile phone sometimes is the only thing which stops me from slitting me wrists with a note written on hotel stationary. (I suppose if Quentin Tarantino had to remake Up in the Air, he would probably set this as the ending).

Now, I prematurely ejaculate by apologizing and it is partly you lot's fault. Since none of you tweeted about the whole Air India strike, I had no idea there was a strike, till… Till I reached the airport at 0330hrs on 30^th April and be promptly informed via text that my flight stood cancelled.

As I stood there marveling the cool hand Luke like ground staff handle the increasing number of passengers, irate and apathetic passengers like me and others. Now you OR Vodafone may argue that I shouldn't have reached the airport at 0400hrs when my flight was expected to leave at 0615hrs. But hey! I come a from a family where we were expected to reach the station/stop/airport in time to see the mode of transport being built. Much like how we like to reach the theaters before they start showing the trailers.

Having also come from a family which declared war on people calling at unearthly hours, I decided to send a text to my clients asking them if it was really worth me traveling to Agra. It was after all a simple two hour meeting. That is when Vodafone decided that it would be THE most opportune moment to see how I react when it gently licks its finger and runs it along the crack of my bottom. My texts wouldn't go. I should have suspected something was amiss when my texts to the booty call didn't go through. But I had to touch base with my clients, more so to cover my arse if not anything. (You learn that very early on in the corporate world. These things hardly get taught at B-schools). So I tried, sending, resending and resending again. I even tried switching it on and off. Three times. But... the message just wouldn't go through. Taking a leaf out of the Air India's ground staff on strike hat, I dialed "111", the customer service number of Vodafone. I cooperated with them in an amicable manner by providing them all the information they needed. I even told them that I switched it on and switched it off, thrice (I like to show off my techno know how whenever I get the chance). I mentioned that I could tweet but I couldn't text. I fully prepared to curse my handset, because Vodafone has a Super Zoozoo modeled after Rajnikanth, and it can do no wrong. Imagine my surprise when I was informed about "maintainence work" being carried out on their network and the service would not be available till 9 in the morning. I was also cordially told to call my client and explain to them just as I had patiently explained to the CSR as to why Air India was going on a strike, having used the still working GPRS to access google and read up on the issue, just in case if the client decided to throw a spot quiz. The service resumed. At 1043hrs. I had called the client, but the client was sleeping. I hope, I also hope the missed call record did not appear in his log.

Anyway, that was last week. The day today is 5th of May. I was at the airport again. This time I checked prior to leaving my apartment if my texts were going through. BUT! What I forgot to check was my GPRS. As I drank my morning coffee, more to mask the smell of rum from my breath for fear of being stopped by airport security than to speed dial Mother Nature, I realized that I didn't know where I was traveling or what my PNR number was. So I had to access the net via my phone, using GPRS, which I pay for, every month. On time. (Because if you don't then Vodafone makes you feel a lousy two timing whoring theif). But… yup! I can't access the net. So, before I try switching it off and on again, I call "111". Cooperate with them. Give them the required information. Tell them I have not switched it on and off, thrice. And service should resume in over an hour. But using my Mcgyver instincts I check my saved texts and find the required PNR number. Crisis averted.

But what really gets my goat is when I tweet about Vodafone being a proper bumcheesing pissfuck on twitter, he/she/it replies back with "We sincerely regret the inconvenience caused. Please DM us your number so that we may be able to resolve the issue asap."

Now my question is simple, "WHY SHOULD I DM YOU MY NUMBER? AND HOW DOES DM'ing YOU MY NUMBER SOLVE ANYTHING WHEN SWITCHING MY PHONE ON AND OFF THREE TIMES DIDN'T?"

New project

2011-05-04T17:35:00.000+05:30

I am writing again. Yes! I say this with great amount of pleasure and self satisfaction. Prior to me rubbing one out. Anyway, you lot can read it, share it, review it, abuse it or give gold stars to it HERE.

Now I shall go and pack me bags. Have to travel to Lucknow tomorrow. It is hot in that part of the country. So have to choose my choice of boxers with great care. I will be seeing you lot in ether space soon.

Sebastian! Y U NO HAVE COMMON SENSE?

2011-04-22T18:18:00.001+05:30

I am reading this book. And I do NOT like it one single bit. So I talk about it. Here *points down*

OR

You can download me whining like a little boy whose just realized that his superhero is a pansy and Sebastian Faulks is responsible for it and has got his bottom has been spanked senseless and is complaining about the priest who touched me in me tootoo HERE.

Who cares! It's a holiday anyway...

2011-04-21T20:18:00.000+05:30

So I was casually talking to one of my friends and this is how I conversation went:

[You can hear me tell you that story OR you can read the approximate transcription of the story]

Listen!

THE TRANSCRIPT

Me: So you all dressed for Easter?

She: Maundy Thursday. Easter is on Sunday

Me: What does Maundy mean? Good Friday then?

She: It’s a day of mourning… so not really dressed per say... Will explain later

Me: Isn’t it the day when Jesus died? If yes, then why is it called good Friday? Damn Romans! Just because they invented the calendar…

She: Good Friday cos jesus died for mankind’s sins... Maundy Thursday = Holy Thursday... Last supper etc with his disciples was today

Me: I thought Maundy was like a slang for idiot… you know because I confuse the days of the week… And I seriously think that Good Friday is a joke which the Romans pulled on the rest of the junta

She: we get bread and buns in church… Tomorrow we fast for the whole day and pray and will eat tomorrow night

Me: Why? I am sure the Romans gave food to Jesus… the Geneva convention makes sure of things like this

She: No! Today was the day when he had his last meal… and THAT is why it is called the last supper you idiot…

I love it when people call me an idiot… I don’t know why but it just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy… anyway…

She: When he was hung they gave him vinegar to drink?

Me: Why what happened to water? High maintenance or what?

She: They were torturing him you idiot…

Me: That’s cos he was calling him a king…

She: Yeah! And ceasar was king back then… so to torture him they gave him vinegar…

Me: Caesar wasn’t king back then… He had that thing with Cleopatra

She: Then it must be king herod…

Me: Sounds like a bird… or is it a fish…

She: No! I think it was Caesar… don’t confuse me now… plus I am church so fuck off now… will talk to you later…

Or you can download this story HERE!

ps: I recorded this yesterday. But I am pretending that I recorded it today. Which will explain the dorky pauses.

pps: BUT I posted it today. So it is all confusing now.

ppps: Welcome to me world!

Movies, Music, Books and Lisp

2011-04-21T14:44:00.000+05:30

I woke up about an hour back and decided that today is a good day to make a podcast. Even though I am not in the best of the moods courtesy crazy unreasonable woman. But here goes nothing. Listen to me talk about movies (Eagle, Source Code, Limitless, Rango, Star wars, Game and Paper moon), music (Mumford & Sons), Books (Ice Man, Tokyo Cancelled, Karl aaj aur kal), exciting new people (Mark Dark and Nutmeg) and telly (perfect couples, house, archer, chicago code and workaholics).

Or you can download it HERE

I BRRRRR'ed

2011-04-14T12:43:00.002+05:30

I Brrrrrrrrrrr'ed. Yes! I know. It is dangerous, fatal even. I know this because I wrote numerous reports about how “Brrr’ing” is hazardous to one’s health, one of the popular side effects being punched in the balls by people within ear shot. But, you know me… I am Evel Knievel with sweat spotted boxers. I can explain the wet spots on me boxers. They are caused by sweat, except for Tuesday evening when I accidently peed over my boxers. I forgot I was wearing them.

Anyway, I am diverging from the story… For those who want to join in this new found cult of “Brrrr’ing”, listen carefully on how to do it properly… You can leave your Brrr’s in the comment section…

I Brrrr’ed…. HERE AND HERE.

Butterfly flapped its wings and Roger wanked

2011-04-13T11:19:00.001+05:30

Roger was a Don Juan, a born coquette, a charming lothario, well you get the idea. And Roger believed in loving one and all, which meant he was not really picky about his audience before he decided to drop his pants, flashing his enormous anaconda and his spank worthy bottoms.

Roger's education began at a very young age, and considering his syllabi, which had a single subject, 'Sex Education'. Roger proved to be an exceptional student of the subject. Finding his father's hidden porn stash was just the beginning of it all.

Till that momentous moment, where Roger discovered his instinctive skills with regards to sex, Roger was just like the other kids of his age, learning how to piss his name in the snow and climbing jujube trees and running after leprechauns and their pot of gold. But those voluptuous globes of delight on Miss April changed everything.

Roger's obsession with sex and the growing complaints from women who had caught their daughters and husbands in compromising situations with Roger started to worry, Roger's mum, Barb E., to no end. And with all news of sexual nature, it spread like a staph infection, especially in a small town like Batville.

Before long, Roger found himself seated in the psychiatrist's office

"So… Roger… How have you been doing?"

Roger just nodded to Dr. Hymen's question. Noting down the boy's reluctance, Dr. Hymen continued.

"Well… it has come to my attention, Roger, that you are obsessed with sex…"

Roger just continued staring.

"So Roger…we are going to play a game called word association…ok?"

Roger nodded again.

"Have you played this game before?"

"No"

"It's very simple and fun to play…I will say a word you will then say the first word which comes to your mind…ok?"

"Okay"

"Cabbage"

"Breasts"

"Pencil"

"Penis"

"Prunes"

"Hair…on top of a pussy"

"Roger… we do seem to have a problem on our hands here…" Dr. Hymen paused, trying to restrain himself from wanting to punch the kid in the face, "Let's try something else now…" He continued, still thinking if the medical board will revoke his medical license if he did punch the kid in the face, "I am going to show you some ink blots and you tell me what it looks like…ok?"

"Okay"

"Penis entering into a pussy"

"Two women fisting each other"

"DP"

"DP? Roger, could you tell me what DP is…" Dr. Hymen asked, hoping against hope that there might be a teeny tiny bit of hope to work with this corrupted son of Satan.

"Double penetration doctor… a man fucks the woman from top and another one fucks the woman from the bottom"

Flabbergasted by the sheer nerve and bit shaken from witnessing how corrupt the mind of a 6 year old was, Dr. Hymen shouted out "Oh I give up!" and he punched Roger in the face. And then, he ran like the wind. Dr. Hymen ran for his life as his virgin poppy was going to be molested by rogue bees.

Seeing the doctor run, Forrest Gump being Forrest Gump completely misread the situation and joined him, which only made the doctor run faster. Before he knew, the little town of Batville was nothing but a speck of dust amidst the storm he had kicked when he started running, and thankfully leaving Forrest Gump behind in it.

Had Forrest continued running after the doctor, his life definitely would not have been anything like a box of chocolates. There was however a huge protest which broke outside Forrest's house when he failed to credit Roger for his good fortune. Forrest was always a selfish prick. And then Roger punched Forrest in his balls, before he tea bagged him.

But that is a different story altogether, maybe, some other time.

The never ending tune

2011-04-12T00:44:00.001+05:30

The wind was in a playful mood that day, as it mischievously lifted girl's skirts up, played catch with little boys' caps and old men's toupees. Chris just sat there watching kids run and laugh as they chased plastic candy wrappers, sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it, girls blushing while sticking their skirt down, old men muttering about as they held their toupees down. Chris was busy trying to get that annoying tune out of his head. The same tune which was playing in the pub when he slipped over somebody's puke in the loo. It didn't help that he had his pants down and was too engrossed in spray painting the broken mirror in the loo with his pee.

"I go to sleep with this tune stuck in me head and I wake up and that fucking tune's been playing in me head… it was playing even when I was taking a shit!" Chris yelled silently to Harvey, who was just getting out of bed and scratching his bottom while he looked bemusedly at Chris.

"What the fuck are you on about? You hit your head on something?"

"No! I am telling you… it was that tune I heard last night at the pub…"

"What's that song?"

"I have no fucking idea… but it goes like na…mmm…hgum…nanana…gnnn" Chris hummed while contorting his face and vocal chords in ways which could be best described as Picasso's early drafts of the human face.

"You sound like a bee shag fest" Harvey laughed mockingly as he stuck his finger up the nose taking check of the degree of stink.

"Oh shut the fuck up!"

As the tune escaped the confines of Chris's tortured head and fastened itself to its playmate, the mischievous wind. The wind started falling in love with the tune as it wisped through people's ears and sweaty armpits. The mischievous wind commenced on his mating ritual trying to entice the mysterious tune to open up, and the tune in turn wanted to have the wind's babies.

It seemed like the perfect love story, save for the fact that the young, wild and tempestuous wind grew old, tired, weary and gentle, the tune still remained young, fresh and upbeat. The tune was cheeky and vibrant and from time to time would prod the wind into allowing itself to whisper into unsuspecting people's ears. And then, the wind died, as suddenly as it had come gushing into people's lives.

"What the fuck is that song? And why won't this tune go away?" cried Chris to Harvey as they went back to the pub in the evening.

"You will be olrite Chris! Look, you can take off your windbreaker now, nothing which a pint or dozen can't solve" As Harvey pushed open the door to the pub and motioned to the bartender for two pints of lager.

Thought trigger for this story goes to Nutmeg and her story the "Scotch Mist"

Ps: While you are reading her story, YOU have to read Mark Dark's "Dentist Tomorrow"

Monday

2011-04-11T10:21:00.001+05:30

It was touted to be the scariest movie ever made. The director claimed that this movie would leave the audience frozen in their seats. After all, this entire movie was made in 3 – D. It was a snuff film with a difference. That's what the marketing campaign stated. The producers did not know what they had produced and neither did the director or any of the crew who had assisted in the making of this movie. Shot with a paltry budget of a cheap internet connection, a webcam and a bunch of unsuspecting college kids hanging out at their old school's playground after hours.

"You can never go wrong when you are filming young blood and their hormone filled bodies" said the director to whoever asked him about the movie.

Which is exactly when things started to go eerily awry. There was enough sex, drugs and videotape to keep the director and the producers happy. But all this just irked Mr. Murphy like that old grandmother who desists her grandchildren because they scream and keep running around while she watches her favorite soap on the telly and shifting the furniture where she keeps bumping her gnarly old toes to alien proportions. So wily old Mr. Murphy decided to do what he does best, fuck things up. And the only way he knew how, massively.

When the rough cut of the movie was shown to a select audience, nobody walked out of the screening hall. The audience included the cast and crew. The police report states the cause of death as mass asphyxiation due to poor ventilation and lack of safety measures. Mr. Murphy is currently fighting the 3859 charges of criminal intent, key among them include accidental murder and Mondays.

Shoot on sight

2011-04-10T09:52:00.001+05:30

The early morning sun seemed to be having identity issues as it shone like the midday sun on his naked motionless body and her pale white self. He opened his eyes gingerly as he tried getting his bearings right and ascertaining where she stood. He rolled over, pulling the sheet over his head, eyes open, the hair on his hands, thighs and chest moving under the merciless eyes of hers. He knew he had to do something fast before she got the better off him and killed him with that cold hypnotic motion of hers.

He swung his arms and legs like the Vitruvian man with the energy of a bunny running for its life from the hounds, trying to find something he could use as a projectile weapon to disarm that evil white witch. There was nothing but pillows around him and the effort of swinging his arms and legs left his drugged, sleepy body exhausted. But they say that the human body reacts in the weirdest of ways when confronted with a fight or flee scenario and so did his. His body armed itself with a morning wood. A morning wood, which legends now claim was as big and strong as a rolling pin, capable of rolling out flatbreads for a family of four small sized people.

He woke up enough to start a conversation with his self.

"I think I can shoot that far. I have shot my load as far as the back of a woman's throat. I don't know… I am not sure… What if I shoot it up in the air and causing the motor of the fan to get aroused and not be able function properly? Look at that piece of white shit… it just stands there mocking me… Why can't she just turn herself off? She knows am feeling cold. At least she can slow the goddamn fan slow can't she? Stupid annoying shit… And what am I supposed to do with this hard on now? Do I feel like having a wank? And who the fuck is that at the door? God! I need to get out of the bed!"

The urgency of the situation put his body in autopilot. In a swift motion he rolled out of bed, hitting the fan switch he opened the door, only to find the wind slam the door back on his face while screaming "IN YO FACE MUTHAFACKER!"

Traveling light

2011-04-09T06:16:00.001+05:30

It was the summer of 1978. The movers and shakers of the world were flying to exotic locales like Disney land and Timbuktu to meet Mickey Mouse and the many starving princes. But Mr. and Mrs. Azad were off to get their 5 year old son acquainted with their respective in-laws. Traveling in the late 70's by the Indian railways was the basis with which futuristic theorists envisioned humans prepare themselves for the inevitable apocalypse. Mrs. Azad had packed little Tarun's milk bottle, enabling his fixation and obsession with his mother's breasts, food and snacks neatly packed in steel vessels, tea and milk to last for the whole 72 hour journey, along with mattresses, bed sheets, pillows, pillow covers and toilet supplies to last them for an indefinite period of time, just in case the broke down and the last man and woman alive had trouble fornicating in a valiant effort to save human race.

The concept of traveling light was yet to be discovered.

After boarding the delayed train, and making the customary baggage count, Mrs. Azad found to her utter disappointment that she had indeed forgotten few essential items to pack like fresh vegetables, fruits and hangars to hang their dirty laundry. The train had started to move and gather momentum in congruence to the then known laws of physics. As Mrs. Azad turned around to convey the news of her incompetence in the department of packing and household management to Mr. Azad, she found him on the platform waving them goodbye, with a wry smile on his face.

Mr. Azad was a man from the future. And he had done what any man from his time would have done, find a way to shed the excess weight and refrain from paying the excess baggage fee and accompanying tax at the check-in counter of life. He was truly a man of the future. He believed in traveling light.

It was the winter of 2010. Mrs. Azad on her flight to Machu Picchu received a text on her smart phone from Tarun. Her husband had finally been found. The message read, "Dead. No Balls, as instructed. Have a safe flight". Mrs. Azad boarded her flight with her Louis Vuitton bag in hand and wry smile on her face.

A dog’s life

2011-04-08T09:38:00.001+05:30

They say your life flashes by when you are dying.

I was born when the riots broke out. I was young and smart. Or so my mother always reminded me whenever the other kids would make fun of me. They say you don't remember much from that age, but not me, I remember. I remember everything, who can forget the carnage that took place that day. My parents did a decent job of hiding me behind a dumpster, while they went scouring out for food and water. We had been starving for a long time. When you live on the streets, it becomes part of your life I guess. But they didn't return back that night or the night after that. I gathered some courage to venture out from behind the dumpster just as the angry noises slowly faded away, punctuated by loud bang-bang noises. They were from a gun, but I had no idea what a gun was or what noises they made. But those noises were loud and scary.

Life beyond the garbage dumpster was both beautiful and unsettling. The sun caressed the horizon while engaging in foreplay with the lipid dark pools of liquid shimmering on the road. I was hungry and thirsty. I couldn't even bring myself to wet my tongue to lick some moisture into my skin. And the pools of liquid were welcoming enough for me to gingerly kneel down and taste it. But it tasted like nothing like water. It tasted like nothing I had tasted before. It was warm and thick and the pool of water was fast turning into a stream. I stepped back, both with disgust and fright and cautiously allowed my eyes to trace the source of this disgusting water. And the road looked like a massive dump yard, of bodies, human bodies and body parts. And as the fear took roots in my legs, I surveyed the place, I saw few faces I recognized but couldn't remember their names. And there was still no sign of my mother and father.

But the whimpering raspy sounds of somebody's breathing perked my ears up. I turned around, slowly, afraid of what I may see or happen to me. And then I saw that guy who used to run behind mother whenever dad wasn't around. His face covered with that disgusting water and dried tears. He had a deep slash running from his stomach all the over his back. The slash seemed to be having a life force of its own, and with every single forced gasp of air he breathed, the slash got big and then small like a pair of angry nostrils. I just stood there, looking at him, staring at his wound, listening to him breath, forgetting my own hunger and thirst. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally stopped breathing, but the disgusting water kept oozing out of his wound.

I went back to wait for my parents. I don't know when, but I remember seeing men wearing black come in hordes, on horses. And one of them saw me cowering behind the dumpster and before I knew he took something and made that bang noise again, and again. And before I knew it, my leg and stomach hurt, a lot. I knew I was going to die. I didn't know when, but I knew the end was near.

I guess this is what dad meant whenever he said "it is a dog's life".

This is just not any another feather in the cap

2011-04-03T03:03:00.001+05:30

India won the world cup today. The last time they did this was in the year 1983. Now, I wasn't born till the June of 1985 and from what I can recollect dad bought our first television set (an Uptron set with six channel settings) in the year 1988, and it took a further five years for me to consciously recognize and understand the game of cricket and all its nuances, while being subjected to Kapil Dev's BSA SLR print ad in India Today and the TVC of "Palmolive ka jawab nahi". And by then the obsession with movies and cricket had taken deep roots in my psyche and I reckon to a large extent had influence on the way I perceived the world. So, irrespective of how many times the sports channels replayed moving images of the 1983 victory, I never really understood the euphoria the then playing eleven of '83 squad went on and on about every time there was a world cup around the corner.

And ever since I understood the game, every little tit bit about the sport, on how to play and who played it, was devoured with an intensity which would have put the Cloverfield'esque greedy appetite for power, fame and lust portrayed by (now caricaturized) Bollywood villains of that era. And there have been reams and reams written on how cricket is a religion, the beacon of hope for the common man, enough for you to make a paper machete dildo out of it. But, for a small boy, who wanted to projected his dreams onto the playing field, it was mighty important for me to win, it was never just about participation, it was about gaining respect, from your peers and seniors, especially those who were skeptical and cynical about a little boy wanting to play amongst the big boys. And for the longest time, the Indian team always played this role I was living.

But, as I grew up, this projection of wanting to win, of wanting to gain respect from my peers (even if it was earned grudgingly) grew like a maggot infestation on a dead carcass on other areas of my life. And even when you earn this respect, there is always this one little pesky demon called self doubt. And self doubt is far scarier than waiting for your girl's periods to come on time after you convince your drunk self that you can and will "pull out" in time. And it is this demon that I have been fighting for the longest time, I still am and so was the Indian cricket team for the longest time.

People always expected phenomenal things from the Indian cricket team, they had all the makings irrespective of the status as being underdogs or favorites. And at least for me the nation always treated the Indian cricket team as their prodigal son, much like how my family still considers me to be one. And till today, we had always managed to show promise only for somebody else outside the family (which includes people from the family who were skeptical and cynical) to turn back and say "I told you so!", and it is always hurt.

So, when today, when the prodigal son returns home, with what he had been promising his father and forefather, it gives me hope, it lights that beacon of light at the end of tunnel as I struggle to realize my dreams, it gives me the strength to believe in myself and to fight with the demon called self doubt. And so, as the images of teary eyed members of '11 world cup winning team get flashed repeatedly on every channel possible, I am awash with optimism that I, the prodigal son will live up to the expectations I carry on my shoulders.

And yes! The images are reminiscent of a well scripted feel good movie and I have always been a little bitch when subjected to such things and yes! I am teary eyed. Not just because we won, but because finally the prodigal son has delivered what he set out to do.

And now… I wait for my turn.

What’s been happening?

2011-02-16T14:38:00.001+05:30

I know I skipped on the yearly recap of 2010. And I have been feeling guilty about it for quite some time now, considering that I have come to think of it as a tradition, so to put my raging irritable bowel to rest and taking a break from writing weird and shittily shite short stories, here is a quick recap of the highlights of the year 2010 and the new year so far.

I got a job. I quit. Repeat. Now I just travel, meet people, hassle people to pay up money and write. Yes! I have become a traveling contract killer who is really shite at getting his payments. Only less sexy, more fat with a clear receding hairline.
Kurian – I – fart – at – will – Babykutty got married to his college sweetheart. Yes the same one from "the fart theory". So one happy ending there. But the problem with happy endings is that you don't have a dirty sock or a bloody twat dripping wank cloth nearby to wipe your happy teary eyed ejaculation off you and somebody else is left to deal with the mess.
And the mess in this case was finding a new flat-mate who could put up with my neurotic pregnant mood swinging psychoness. I was faced with the possibility of adopting stray dogs and cats which I then later discarded the idea at the thought of the apartment smelling of poo which was not human. This led me to post an ad online inviting potential axe murderers, sex offenders and plain good old fashioned chumps. And there was one guy who promised to give me a "tinkle" before he came, which I thought was mighty generous of him to do so but clearly he was not serious about moving in.
After about a wait of 5 weeks, I found a flat-mate, it's a she. And she happens to be French. Who by virtue of being funny has effectively negated the fact that she is French.
I managed to lose my phone AND get my bike towed. On the same day. Shittiest day ever! I did however manage to get my bike back for 50/- as bribe to the guy who towed it. What I didn't realize is that I had just paid 50/- to the dude who broke my indicator lights which is hanging out like a veiny cock from the handle bar. And when I went back to see where I left my phone behind, I was informed by the security that an anon woman was the prime suspect. Anyway, that was just one BIG depressing day.
So far I have done more trips to Bihar, the adopted state of me brother (who is by nature a Bihari, like the Delhi slang), have so far travelled Patna, Muzzafarpur, Bhagalpur and Jamshedpur.
Received news that Gopal is finally tying the knot. Hopefully by end of this year. So that's a real good thing. However the back story is more twisted and long going than Bold and the Beautiful. The story is both bold and beautiful and well… enormously boring for people who don't know the characters involved in the story.
I have managed to finish writing my first full length story. Having a bit of a wrestle with the synopsis like crocodile Dundee.
I got into twitter. Deleted it. Made a new account. Deleted it. Made a new account. Not yet deleted it.

And I have run out of my smokes, which means I am done with this post.

Ps: I got laid last year. Breaking the whole 19 month long dry stretch. Congratulations are in order. And condoms. Also battery of tests.

Post Coital Series 2 – How do you like your eggs?

2011-02-15T16:46:00.001+05:30

How was it? What am I supposed to say to that? Why won't men have sex and just fall asleep? Why do they keep asking how was it? Am I supposed to grade them on their performance? It is just sex for fuck sake… I bet if I told him the truth he would be out of here in no time… or worse… he starts crying… What they should really be asking is how I like my eggs in the morning? Unfertilized… that's how… and why do these guys always fumble around with a condom pack? It's like they forgot to read a manual or something… That stupid bitch at work! AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH! She gets on my nerves… Why can't she just do her job properly? jeez! Why does he want to cuddle? hopefully… god! Just imagine that thing coming out of my vag… Ewww… I am never having a baby… and why is he still talking? I just want to go to sleep… why is this so difficult for him to understand… god! It's like he is a girl… Wonder how it would be with a girl… Nooo… I don't think I can make out with a girl… maybe… if am really drunk… and she is really pretty…

Post Coital Series 1 - Eggplants

2011-02-14T14:30:00.001+05:30

Shit! This is tiring! She's sweaty… why can't the fan move any faster! Do I smell? Ugh! I need to take a shower… maybe tomorrow sometime… wondering if I should record us having sex… I may have to lose some weight and work out before I do that… both of us will definitely look fucking ugly when me fucking her the next time around… I am such a bastard… Why would I want to tape that shit… I am such a narcissistic bastard… I hope she doesn't ask me what I am thinking… that would be really awkward…

"What are you thinking?" she asked while running her fingers around his sweaty chest hair and tracing out his nipples.

"Um… Eggplants… I don't know why… You know how my mind works…"

"Yeah" she replied smiling as she snuggled up closer.

Fuck! She's sweaty… I am sweaty… and she wants to cuddle…

"Sleep on your side of the bed… there is more than enough space on this big bed for the two of us you know…"

"Fine! Be grumpy…" she turned, taking along with her most of the duvet, leaving him staring at his now limpid cock in the light streaming in through the window shades.

Eggplants? Why the fuck did I think about eggplants? I don't even like them… they are so yuck! All gooey and shit… You think she will masturbate with it… Think a cucumber is better suited for that… The time with the vibrator was good wasn't it… She was all over that shit… Man! I have corrupted this woman… made her into a monster… and how the hell is she always so wet… I wonder if she will scream my name when she is doing it with her husband… that would be fuck embarrassing wouldn't it… Is her husband bigger than me? Kino said her husband was longer than me but mine I was more wider… which is better? I don't know… and why in the world did we ever have that conversation? I think am going to sick… and why am I thinking about her husband's dick… Am I gay? I hope not… Sure there was that bit back in school… I need music… where is the damn ipod? Now playing, chasing cars… fuck it! Just put it on shuffle… and what time should I put the alarm for? 7? Nah! Need about half an hour of the alarm to ring before I actually hear it… 06:30…

"Oi! You think your husband knows about us?"

"Will you shut up?"

"Oi!" he said while turning her with his hands between her legs…

"Mmmm" she moaned in silence, rolling her eyes to the back with eye lids closed.

Ps: Story idea credit to @adityab. Was discussing #Adam with him when he suggested I do a stream of consciousness series when people are feeling spaced after sex. The idea was just too good and too my kind of thing to let it go.

Pps: Will try and do an entire series of it. But again, am not really good at sticking to my promises.

Teaser - Alan

2011-02-07T10:06:00.000+05:30

The phone rang. Again, as it had been for the last 25 minutes. Andy opened his eyes, blinking rapidly, trying to wash the remnants of a rather disturbing dream involving lumberjacks, Alfie and a rather menacing dog snapping at his legs realizing that the weird sound at the door he was hearing in his dream was the phone ringing.

The clock mocked him, as its lights flashed 04:48, he looked over at Alfie snoring, his breathe reeking of cheap whisky and a swirling concoction of smells which could be best described as a waste treatment facility of a rather popular brand of cologne, as he reached for the phone.

‘This better be good’

‘Good? This will give you both a boner the size of Mt. Kilimanjaro... We found another one… Is he up?’

‘No.’ Andy replied curtly, clearly not pleased with the ill – timed joke by Eugène-François, a good natured Interpol officer who Alfie liked for the same reasons Andy disliked him for.

‘Well? Wake him up! He is going to love it! I tell you… He is going to love it… Sending a car around to pick you up… Should be around the corner’

Click.

‘Alfie! Alfie!’ Andy gently prodded Alfie in his guts, knowing that gentle and subtle was not really Alfie’s style.

‘ALFIE!’

‘WHA? WHA?’ Alfie woke up with a start, grabbing the baseball bat he kept next to his side of the bed reflexively.

‘Another one has been found. Eugene sounded pretty excited about it. Said, you will love it. Get ready. And for fuck sake, brush your goddamn mouth with some phenyl. You smell like some raccoon has shit himself in there.’ Andy said in mock irritation, smiling at the bewildered look on Alfie’s face.

‘Did you say another one?’

‘Yes! Now wake the fuck up and get ready! The car should be here anytime now’

‘I bet he found something new… This is brilliant!’ Alfie said as he tried jumping out of bed.

‘Oi! Easy now!’ Andy moved sluggishly, still considering whether to tell Alfie about his dream and decided against it.

As they tied their shoe laces, Alfie exclaimed,

‘I have a good feeling about this… And you sure Eugene said that I would be happy?’

‘Yes.’ Andy replied, shaking his head, ‘I really do wish I could have got another couple of hours of sleep instead of being dragged on this search, rather a hunt for this maniac.’

‘Well, you don’t have much choice in this matter now do you?’ Alfie chuckled, as they got into car waiting for them downstairs.

‘You see a half full glass and I see sleepless nights!’

‘Well! Brother! Stop whining like a little bitch! Where is the ALAN brother’s spirit’ … ‘Oi! Step on it!’

The brothers looked outside the car window, silently and stoically, each lost in their own thoughts, one smiling sinisterly wondering what awaited them, while another frowning and cursing nature for having playing such a cruel trick on them.

‘Thank god we don’t share consciousness and conscience’ Andy spoke, poking the silence that had enveloped the twins.

Alfie continued smiling, as he absentmindedly ran his fingers over the imaginary seams at which their bodies were conjoined, as the car sped on.

2011 - First Podcast of the year!

2011-01-13T01:05:00.013+05:30

Apparently I can get quite narcissistic after I have had one to many to drink. Shouldn't come as a surprise to those who are acquainted to me and me ways. But what should be surprising is the absolute non - sense I tend to talk about when inebriated (when compared to being sober). To make matters worse, my confidante enables this behavior, not that I am complaining...

Anyway, here is me going Guantanamo Bay on my girl quizzing about what every guy wants answers for... The size of his dick/wiener/dong/penis/manhood/spunk ejaculator in comparison to a pornstar.*

PS: IN MY DEFENSE... I WAS DRUNK!

PPS: AND I WANT MY LAWYER!

*PPPS: Obviously since the results are in my favor is the prime AND the only reason this finds a place here. Otherwise it would have been trashed like an used tampon.

Random arbit thought starter

2010-11-11T06:42:00.001+05:30

Been waiting in this airport for the last two hours trying to control
my urge to Christopher Walken on the escalator like he does in that
fat boy slim video. Anyway, while I was waiting (not that the status
has changed in the last few minutes) and tweeting absolute nonsense
and reading the undercover economist and thinking if I could afford
buying mum the iPod she has been begging for ages, something stuck me
and made me cringe.

The thought to be exact was about all things I have done for women I
thought I loved/was infactuated with. I reckon this is solely credited
taunting me about the fact that I buy things for women with whom I
have had sex or reckon high likelihood of getting some and not getting
anything for her. And this really got me thinking and before I knew
it, she is right in that cringe inducing and making your face contort
in a manner which could be best described as the look on your face as
you fight with that last piece of constipated turd offering its force
de resistance.

Anyway, here I list the things which came to my mind, am pretty sure
there a bucket loads more. And am pretty sure you lot have a list too,
but here is mine. In no particular order.

1. Moving to Bangalore

2. Buying that shit ass expensive dress. Make that two dresses.

3. Getting on me knees and then walking out of the movie theater
leaving M behind.

4. Traveling down to spend time. (reckon this is like the sun to Mum's
superwoman like powers to make me feel guilty)

5. Lying. - Well in the beginning it was about me being a virgin,
later on it turned into lying about the number of women I have had
slept with and now...

6. Picturing me life in a La - Uday Chopra in Dhoom fashion

7. Getting caught while doing "it" in the pub loo.

8. Me mate finding me doing "it" underneath the water tank.

9. Getting pasted so bad that I had performance issues.

10. Trying to get laid one last time before she got married.

11. Showing my willie while chatting on the webcam. (technology sucks
when it comes to trying to make long distance relationships work)

12. Stealing my ex - girlfriend's brother's crush from right under nose.

13. Getting caught by mum with me pants down. With not one. But two
women. At the same time.

14. Telling mum about every new girl being "the one".

15. Getting caught by her friends while we did "it" in her beach
house. (I hate locks which pretend that they are locked but really
aren't)

16. Crying like a little bitch in front of mum and friends when things
went down hill. And in my defence, I was engaged to that girl. And it
happened just once.

17. Mum finding out about my first crush and the lovey dovey shite I
had written in my diary. I wrote it with the diary upside down
thinking that I was very smart and it would like gibberish and she
wouldn't really understand it.

18. Sleeping with a girl and then her cousin. And not knowing they
were cousins. The cousins obviously exchanged notes. I am still
friends with one. So it wasn't so bad I reckon. But it's still
embarrassing nonetheless.

Well, like I said... This is all which comes to my mind. Pretty damn
sure there are bucket loads of them. Buried deep down my psyche. But,
let's not go there now. Maybe some other time. When I feel like
subjecting myself to more horrible memories and cringing while I wait
time to pass and a boarding announcement for my flight to be made.

Heading to Chennai now. See you lot later.

Cheers.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Typical 4 a.m drunk rant.

2010-11-06T04:30:00.001+05:30

You know the times when you realize that you are an emotional fool? A blithering, slobbering savant who has had a pineapple shoved forcefully down his bottom? Mostly because you have wanted something really (raised to the power really) bad and wished for it with all your heart that the only right thing left to do for life was to bitch slap so hard that your intestines fused with your colon?

Well, I am currently riding a wave of these times. And for not so strange reasons the movie name “I’m a cyborg, but it’s okay” is flashing across the marquee in my head. I really do wish I was a cyborg. Shooting m&m’s and farting out cotton candy. It would be brilliant, much along the lines of Sarah Palin being featured in two cups and one girl. (That woman has a lot of shit backed up in her body.)

I really need to get rid of my dues, sort out my financials for the next 6 months and get that darned tattoo I have been planning to get. I reckon its time. It’s time I leave behind the dream of blissful domestic life.

It’s lot like “Good Luck, Chuck” meets CBSE board issued compulsory essay assignment “Television – Boon or Bane”. Depends really on how I am looking at the glass to be honest. But, as I stay silent on this phone call, I realize, it doesn’t really matter how I look at it, because at the end of the day, when it matters the most…

“I am fucked. Fucked is me.”

Long overdue update!

2010-10-30T00:46:00.000+05:30

Allo,

I am not even going to bother to find out how long it has been since I last visited this place. But, it did seem that there was a long overdue update pending. So, here it is...

If you haven't been following me on twitter, then let me quickly fill you in that I have quit my last job. The job was quite fancy, supposed to be related with "Innovation", supposed to be the latest buzzword and sorts. But, just like my engineering degree, the awesomeness of it was largely limited to movies and pretty much on the surface. The nitty gritty of it all, having to report to an office and do desk work eroded my libido like vaginal dentae. Not cool! Even if the vagina involved is that of a transmorgifacting Mallika Sherawat.

Anyway, been traveling far more than George Clooney in "Up in the Air" and I reckon I must have surpassed the surrealism of "Up". And added to all this is the happy news of Kurian finally tying the knot with Becky which reaffirms my faith in the whole concept of "And they stayed happily ever after." Quite looking forward to getting piss drunk with him as part of his non - existent and very hush - hush stag do which will involve just him and me, preferably with our pants on and pond full of liquor.

I am currently in Jaipur, in this rather plush hotel which I am rather worried about. Mostly involving about clearing the massive bill I seem to have ordered myself into.

Also managed to put myself through the rather harrowing experience of watching "Up in the air", "Love story" (1970), "500 days of summer" and "Say anything". I have no idea why I did do that to myself but I did.

Cities I have been showing my ugly mug faced bottom till have been a pleasant surprise. Among them both Jamshedpur and Pune top the list. Jaipur has always been a favorite of mine. Feel in love with the pink city the first time I landed here. And even though it is called pink city it is not really pink OR gay OR maybe I have just been visiting all the right places or the wrong depending on which side of the fence you swing by.

On a personal life basis, its all very topsy turvy at the moment. Nothing major or magnificent to report to. Been wracked with memories of the past. Which I reckon is normal behavior given my disliking and my penchant to fuck myself over upside down when am alone with my thoughts.

I leave Jaipur tomorrow for Bangalore and then from there I leave for Chennai before coming back to Bangalore. And then back to Chennai and probably to my favorite city in the whole wide world. But, given the conversation I am having at the moment, it doesn't look likely.

I would however like you lot to hear Tom Wait's Martha. Very emo. Very me.

Cheers.

Its PODCAST TIME!!!

2010-08-09T04:58:00.000+05:30

Sheila and me talk about movies, crying at movies, oxes and bulls being castrated. Sheila's obsession with peeing. Me not getting any action and male - female dynamics and why Pinocchio makes me cry. Among other things. Do leave a comment on what you want us to talk about the next time we do decide to talk about shit.

Sheila and Zenny (TRY to) make a podcast

2010-07-26T04:30:00.000+05:30

So considering how disastrous my first two attempts at podcasting were. I managed to convince Sheila to lend me a helping hand. I think we lost about more than two hours of our conversation as I tried figuring out this skype recording conversation bit which is a pain in places where the sun don't shine. But I managed to salvage some of it and whatever there is, it is funny. At least am laughing if not for you lot. Oh! And if you lot know of any good, cheap, marwadi way of recording skype conversations do let us know. Hope you enjoy this one.

ps: We are after all bunch of n00bs. She has the boobies and I bring the nerd. So do leave your comments behind so that I can use that to get Sheila to do one more of these.

pps: Oh! And don't forget to tell us what to do to record our conversations on skype without losing out on some massively hilarious stuff.

ppps: we seem to have lost the entire review we did of inception and salt. That I think was THE most hilarious bit.

So... do what am telling you to do in the previous two post scripts.

James Bond and the art of stripping

2010-07-24T17:39:00.000+05:30

So I decided to give this podcasting malarkey another shot. Niall helped me out with the quality issues but suffice to say it wasn't enough to audio photoshop me voice into something Barry Manilow. After hearing this podcast, me chances of getting laid plummet from zero to -infinity.

To Podcast OR Not to Podcast... That is the Question...

2010-07-23T22:05:00.001+05:30

Listen!

Hotel California

2010-04-26T22:02:00.001+05:30

It's hot. The walk around the garden hasn't helped me one bit. Maybe I should open that bottle of beer. Bah! It's 3 in the afternoon… Oh! Who is going to stop a 80 year old man from enjoying a sip of bitter? That's right… No one! I am the king of the world… hehehehe…

Would have been nice if Jasmine was still alive… Ah! Think about the whore and the breeze blows… Will probably get the carpenter take a look at this creaking sound coming from this rocking chair. Hehehehe… would be funny if it broke and I fell on my buttocks…

"Allo love…" that girl does have a nice smile. I hope she doesn't think I am sort of a pervert… Oh! Who am I kidding? I am a pervert… Pity women my age don't want to do anymore. Wonder what Marie is doing right now… screw that bitch! She left you at the altar… Hope she is dead and had a horrible marriage and her husband what's – his – name treated her like shit… She was a nice girl… Hope she didn't regret the choices she made… she never was a bright girl… she would have put up with that bastard just like she put up with me… Wonder what happened to… Fuck! It's raining… for once couldn't the breeze carry on but no! It has to fucking rain…

The house is so dark and silent… I miss Jasmine… She would have made me stub this cigarette… Good thing she left me for that poof Victor… Bastard! At least one thing I am proud of is that I never stole somebody's girl… Did I? Oh yeah! Yvonne… Wonder what happened to her…

"Shit shit shit! Nurse! Nurse! I seem to have shat myself again…" Fuck! Hate when this happens… I am not leaving a single penny for those bastards… Definitely not leaving them anything not after they fucking called the cops on me… They couldn't do shit could they? Nobody could have done anything to me… Not when I pleaded mentally insane… They all had to die… Jasmine had to die… So did Yvonne… And so did Marie… They all had to die… That's what they wanted… that's what they deserved… They couldn't just leave me and go… They promised to be with me forever and ever… And that's what they will do… That's what they will do… "NURSE!!!" she said she will never leave my side…

Recollecting the Acid trip

2010-03-21T01:47:00.001+05:30

Disclaimer – This is NOT a review. This is a recollection of the experience AND if you haven't watched the movie, I strongly suggest you to NOT read this.

To begin with, Love Sex aur Dhoka, had been getting people excited, just like how people who are regulars to hush – hush underground and illegal rave parties, and how these parties are that something that wakes them up in the morning. And as the day approached the buzz around the movie seemed to be everywhere, like that incessant, pesky fly which no matter how many times you shoo away from your cup of sweet chai. It always comes back to be shooed away again. I did manage to control myself from getting overly excited about the movie by refusing to watch television, knowing well that my roommate was on his threshold of losing it with me and my movie obsession. (His nerves are still recovering from the shredding which I subjected them to with Dev D, Kaminey and more recently with Ishqiya and Boondock Saints).

Anyway, the day came by when the movie released, and like an anxious cat-on-the-wall student checking his board results I searched google for what people had to say about the movie. And each and every review I read, all I could gather were incoherent ramblings of a love sick puppy dog, who was still walking around in a daze of having lost his virginity to the love of his life and was still trying to wrap the reality around his head. Now, being a guy who loves women as much as I love movies, this was an easy enough emotion for me to connect with.

(You can read these reviews here, here AND here)

After reading these reviews, LSD definitely climbed the list of movies I need to watch list, like Pepe Le Pew up a tree chasing a skunk.

BUT…

It wasn't until I read Prakriti's (more famously known as Dr. Gonzo aka Papa aka @TheEvilP) uncontrolled, unbridled and the involuntary but brilliantly rainbow colored ejaculation about the movie which forced me to get off the couch and go watch that movie immediately.

And the movie began. I nursing my drink and munching down a kebab when the movie began. Took me some time to get my point of view to orient and align to the vision of the camera. And before long I was drawn into the aspiring film maker's attempts to make a movie in the movie. Couple of people I had just met and were seated with me were visibly disconcerted by the jarring camera movements and I could see them squirm about with the language used in the movie. I suppose they are the same kinds who practice and preach the age old adage of "Don't dry your dirty laundry in public". And then there were few people whose humorous defense mechanism kicked in with cat calls and incessant commentary throughout the movie.

Sure the crowd laughed and winced at the blindingly brilliant and searing dialogues, but what I noticed and what gave me goose bumps was the complete silence few of the scenes commanded. I am not a big fan of movies which do not have a background score, they invariably put me to sleep, but not LSD. Not with its shrill background noises, which only reinforces the feeling that what you are watching on screen, is something real and not cinematic in the regular Bollywood larger than life style.

While I was engrossed watching the movie, I could help the parallel thoughts which were getting parked in my head like a car wreck. People who know me will not be surprised that I cuss a lot, but the number of "fucks" and "shits" which were echoing inside my head must have registered on some echo meter as being definitely abnormal. In my defense, I really couldn't help it.

The feeling I got while watching the first story was "FUCK! Dibakar has got me eating out of his hands", the feeling is reminiscent of when you are getting a blow job from a real 10 and you can't believe your own luck and all you want to do is call all your friends and tell them about it. Well, LSD had me on this trip within the first 15 minutes of the movie. And it looked like the director had not even gotten around to fully undressing me yet.

Couple of scenes in the first story made me realize, how the censor had raped the soul out of it. No lube and no protection. It was brutal, bit like how Monica Bellucci gets raped in "Irreversible". Couldn't help but wonder how much more luminous and powerful the first story would have been, especially, when the boy says "Arey… Special case hain… Special" (Mine was a special case) or when the heroine's brother curses and beats the shit out of the hero while mouthing "Apni aukaad bul gaya bhainchod" (You forgot your status sisterfucker).

The first story makes you remember the innocence with which Rob Gordon kisses his first kiss when he was a kid in High Fidelity, (when the chap is addressing "Adi Sir" and goes on about describing his happiness) and it plunges a butt plug in your tightly clenched anal rectum with brutal force like how Derek Vinyard breaks that bloke's jaws on the curb in the opening scenes of American History X. (when the heroine's brother goes on to beat both the hero and heroine's head into a pulp with a hockey stick before chopping it with an axe.)

The first story was my favorite of the lot amongst the three stories told in the movie.

The second story is where you actually realize that Dibakar Banerjee has not only succeeded in achieving what he set out to do, but goes far beyond that. Making you, the viewer, a common house fly on the wall. There are times, when your conventional sense of how you view a movie kick in. You want the camera to move just a tad bit to the right or to the left, but like a dog in a obedience school you soon give in and obey what the master says.

As the movie progressed (note, not the story, but the movie) the feeling of being a fly on the wall seeped deeper and deeper into your psyche. You don't yearn for the characters on the screen, you just watch them, without any emotions, dispassionately. (This is probably what Boman Irani was trying to emphasize in his opening speech to the aspiring doctors in MunnaBhai M.B.B.S).

For me, in the second story, is where the director really scores. It is when the sex is played out and your heart stirs rather than your groin. That is such a subtle and implicit scene, laden with so many emotions, that it manages to scare you with your own anticipation of what is about to transpire. It's one of those scenes, which, when you were a kid, you used to cover your face for fear of what you know is going to come next, but, are so curious that you can't help but look at it.

At the end of the second story is when you really begin riding on the LSD high, everything looks like a question with no answers, time becomes a never ending spiral staircase, like the ones you stare at in vertigo and while you are still grappling with the second story and flying around in that glass case you find yourself trapped under like the housefly Dibarkar makes you.

Your ADD suffering vision and mind is drawn into the third story.

The third story goes along, your face alternates between sporting a smile (when the woman says "Kya chaiye tumhe… paisa? Sex?" (what do you want? Money? Sex?) and makes a pumping action with her fist, or when the time when the man and the woman caresses their fingers while the woman is on the phone) and being straight faced (when the two of them go to sell their story to the news channel).

I don recollect having any other expression on my face till the very end.

The expression on my face at the end of the third story was the same when I was kid and I realized Naseerudin Shah was the villain in "Mohra" or when I grew a little bit older and had the same expression when I watched "The Usual Suspects" and realized who Keyser Soze was. The expression has not changed over the years, though fewer and fewer movies have managed to contort my, now, pudgy face, into that expression.

"Love, Sex aur Dhoka", contrary belief, is not what is shown on screen. From what I can gather, they are the titles of the three stories showcased in the same way one perceives them.

"Love", the first story, told through the free flowing motion of the camera, with lots of jerks and static placements, bit like the roller coaster ride love is. "Sex", the second story, told through the fixed store cameras, its symbolism I gather is the society's moral stand point of it. "Dhoka", the third story, told through the spy camera placed around the heart, well it is the heart which feels betrayed doesn't it.

I imagine the director himself did not intend to embed these symbologies in the stories or the way they were told. Guess this is a bit like how Dolly's (Neetu Chandra's sister in Oye Lucky, Lucky Oye) driver figured out the reason for Paresh Rawal playing three different roles in the movie. (He said "Joh bhi Abhay karega… Paresh uska baap hai" (Whatever Abhay will do, Paresh is his father)). All this esoteric masturbation is a byproduct and a hall mark of Dibakar's work.

Like I tweeted today morning, this movie IS Pamela Anderson, it will expose the average Indian moviegoer to the awesome image of her running around in a red swim suit before initiating him to the lovely underbelly of internet with her sex tapes.

I don't suppose anybody can write about this movie as a review alone and do justice, it is a movie which manages to evoke emotions by tying a leash around your heart and head with just enough room to look away but not really enough for you to do so.

This movie is LOT like addictive rough sex. When you walk out of the screening, you want to go in again and give it another watch. You just can't have enough of it. LSD has become THAT girl who just blew my mind with all the things she did in bed. I know I will fall in love with other women and I will do "it" with them, but LSD is THAT one girl I will from time to time think about and wank off to.

Ps: I couldn't finish the damn drink OR the kebab. The movie was that brilliant. Just thought I would say that in case if you did not understand any of what I had written so far.

There are heroes and then there are Gods…

2010-02-21T04:51:00.002+05:30

I was in 7^th grade when Ajit Agarkar came into the limelight. It was around the same time when Ajay Jadeja had just been given a call for the Indian Test squad after his delightful performance in the then recently concluded One Day series with Sri Lanka and I read about it in the newspaper with the file photo of Ajay Jadeja talking on the phone. This was in and around the infamous scratch the head instead of giving the decision umpire fiasco.

I believe the year was 1997, I was about 12 years old, on the verge of puberty, my voice had to yet to break into the Donald Duck meets Sylvester the cat voice it is now, I was so young that the biggest swear word I knew then was 'Bastard' in English and 'Saala' in Hindi.

Ajit Agarkar came into the news around the same time when I was coming to terms with the situation at home, which seemed to be going down like a crack whore blowing for her fix.

Life is never pretty for a kid when he is asked to grow up real fast and real quick with no father around leave alone a father figure to look up to, to guide him, show him and teach him the ways of this evil and cruel world.

I was at that point of time where, I was seeking for answers, for strength, for assurance and reassurance that the home I stayed in and the people I called as family were just that, a home and a family without my realizing it. I did not know the real meaning of a family or what "home" is supposed to be till I met Mrs. Parekh and her family which was after eight long years. Long after Agarkar had come and taught me things, which a father should have taught me. And I learnt it all by religiously following anything which was written about him, by mimicking his temperament on field.

For me the concept of a family and that of a home was largely limited to what I used to see on the telly (more specifically what Doordarshan decided to show) and the stories I used to hear and the things I used to see in homes I spent time playing with my friends at that point of time. There, people behaved very differently than the ones in mine. And as any kid who knows that all that awaits back at home are bruises, loud screams, wailing and shouting matches between husband and wife, I wanted to run, escape the beatings doled out at home, not wanting to watch mum cry while she lay bruised and battered, and feeling helpless that I could not do anything about it, which probably reinforced my now shunned escapist attitude.

The playground was the only refuge I had outside of home where I did not feel crap about how things were at home or get reminded of home, while non – textbook books and movies were my refuge while I was at home. I spent countless hours playing. With nobody to teach me or tell me how to go about things, I started imitating what I saw on the telly and like a villager who aspires to break out of the small town and make it big by copying his favorite actors, I copied every bowler who was successful there was at that point of time.

So there was the Dominic Cork phase, the Venkatesh Prasad phase, the Shane Warne Phase, Paul Adams phase, Javagal Srinath Phase… You get the idea… But their success wasn't reflected in my performance on the playing field which was the only place where I was really happy and a bad day at the ground meant more than losing the will to live. All this made me dream of dreams of me being a man, not a superman or a superhero, but a man, who was so successful that he single handedly won all matches played by a team of eleven by wiping out the entire opposition and more, a man so awesome that he singlehandedly changed the situation from being helpless and resigned to fate to grabbing life by its balls and making it wince and obey his voice's command, a man so spectacular that he changed the world.

So when the buzz started building about this young sensation from the Indian U – 19 squad and the raving articles being written about him being the next best thing to happen to Indian cricket since Sir Donald Bradman, I was getting excited, much like the man who awaits his postal bride. And then, on April 1, 1998, Agarkar debuted in, Australia chasing a mammoth total of 309 (at that point of time anything about 260 was a steep run chase) and Australia were probably the only team at that point of time who could chase it down, and it bloody well looked like they would chase it down and make India and it's less than one billion population at that point of time eat humble pie.

I, like every other Indian was beginning to lose my grasp on any semblance which could be construed as hope, and I remember thinking that the Indian cricket team can never be a normal team, just like my family, and then came Ajit Agarkar, taking Adam Gilchrist's wicket and changed the entire game around. I cannot even begin to explain to you guys the tide of emotions which swept me off my feet that moment. It was like, my prayers had been answered. And to me, at that point of time in my life, it meant the world, it meant that I could still place trust in people, I could still believe in things and not be left disappointed, I could still believe in the concept of a happy family, of all things normal, it meant I could still believe in dreams.

And for me, that meant the difference between growing up and being a kid. He was everything I ever wanted to be.

For me Ajit Agarkar is more than just an athlete. He is a symbol, one who represented my dreams, my belief that one man can make difference.

Ps: So when people talk shit about him to spite me, they are not ridiculing the man, they are making fun of my belief to dream, to believe. And for a man (yes! I have grown up) who has come from a broken home, dreams and believing that things will change one day for the better is all the difference between losing one's sanity and staying alive.

Pps: Ajit Agarkar is my childhood hero, a hero who I have worshipped and given him the pedestal of being god. My god of hopes and dreams!

Ppps: There is some credit due to him given the fact that I turned out to be a reasonable and somewhat tolerable kid AND not a complete raving psychotic and emotionally stunted ape like my father.

Awesomeness Inc.

2010-01-25T20:32:00.000+05:30

It has been a L O N G time since I have been this excited and proud to own something. The last time it was the Zippo and before that it was my first pair of Nike.

Anyway... Ladies and Gentlemen. Hold your breathe and your pee, because I present to you 8 posters of awesomeness. Duly bought and framed and to be hung as a badge of snobbery.

My personal favorite as you would by now be knowing is Rocky. After the infamous calling my hostel mate gay night of 2nd Jan, 2003, where I lost my Rocky IV poster, I believe this more than makes up for it.

I also absolutely love the Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

Now the real problem is that these posters are mighty huge and I am not sure which posters are going in which room. But those are just details at the moment. For the time being, I am getting me knob polished by the awesome light being reflected off these beauties...

9 reasons on what makes the Whore of Sparta!

2010-01-16T18:41:00.001+05:30

We are all awesome and lame in unequal proportions, take Whore of Sparta who is so lame that he puts the 'me' in lame. And, if it wasn't for him then it would be just 'la' which is, er…um… for lack of a better word, lame.

And since I am bored at the moment, having sorted my laundry, cleaned my bathroom with a toothbrush and having gotten tired of playing cop and robbers with my roommate, thought I may as well go on and indulge myself with some intellectual wanking.

Problem on hand: What is that 'XXX' factor in Whore of Sparta?

And after a long dump while reading the taboilds, I finally managed to scribble down the list of things which makes 'The Whore of Sparta', who or more precisely What he is…

Soft Porn – There is good porn which gets the little one to rise up the occasion and give a salute at the ingenuity of finding a vocation for the woman's fanny which frankly is not of much use, well, if you take out, peeing, giving birth to kids (that is where kids come from right? Still trying to figure out how storks do it… People really should try and figure this one out before they try and figure out how Santa manages to deliver his presents…)

Anyway, getting back on the point (or the lack of one as the case here is) of soft porn, is that it is pointless. Bit like a lesbian with no strap – on or boobies with nippleage or the Indian Cricket team with no Ajit Agarkar.
Lip Piercings – There is a saying in Hindi "Laaton ke bhoot Batoon say nahi maante" which when loosely translated reads as "Ghosts who have to get their ectoplasmic behinds kicked by Ghostbusters do not do well with negotiations" and in spite of explaining the reasoning behind tongue piercing and circumcised pensis, he is still enamored by lip piercings. He is into the whole night people phenomenon, well that's the only reasoning I can gather considering he sleeps 97.25% of the time when the sun shines.
Public display of body hair – There is the horror and the horror. The sight of his T – Shirt riding up his mid – riff with the full display of his Amazonian navel is a sight which can inspire a few more soft porn movies.
Cell Phone – Now the concept of cell phone holsters has been debated over and been concluded that it is lame. But, when the concept undergoes mutilation, which in a parallel universe where James Bond sucks on camel balls while getting an enema, shaken but not stirred, would have been as awesome as Wolverine and his Adamantium claws. But… it's not!
Foreskins – It is weird enough when men talk about their shafts and masts, but when you are subjected to the "graphical depictions" of the circumcision one can't help but face the dilemma of covering one's ears or loving caress one's member… especially when one has only two hands. (One of the many questions which Google can't answer)
Reality Shows – They are lame. But when they tend to evoke emotional outbursts from emancipated whores you know they must be doing something right. Unfortunately, what is right for emancipated whores is not right for the rest of the world.
Stating the Obvious – You are watching an ad and when somebody says it's an ad you know you are in the presence of absolute genius. NOT!
Insistence on losing virginity instead of finding lost job – Enough said!
Shakes-spear – Ever wondered the ill effects of constant tele – serial watching causes to the balls of a man? Well, neither did I… but… It's a bit like how you don't wonder about Sonia Gandhi's sex life, but if you do watch a MMS doing blowing a lollipop in night vision, a la- Paris Hilton, you do wonder…

Now, I know this list in no way does any justice to the marvel of the missing link in evolution that is "The Whore of Sparta", but you can't blame a man for not trying.

Evolution, Caveman and Retail Therapy

2010-01-09T17:55:00.001+05:30

As always my intellectual masturbation, primarily due to the vow of abstinence after the now infamous 'cow's year of 2009', has left me with a rather cunning theory, which in no way will be leading to an equally cunninglus encounter with a hot brunette.

Anyway, coming back to the theory…

When man was still evolving, (as you can tell, I do not subscribe to the creationist theory) and was figuring out whether he should be banging his knob on the woman's badonkadonk or her oriental fanny and did not meet with a lot of success, it shrunk the caveman's club into depression which would come out of his shell only if he spanked his monkey. He was seriously contemplating being a loyal congress man for the rest of his, and even coined the slogan "Haath Hi mera saathi" (roughly translated it reads "in me palms I trust to make me cum").

The situation was not exactly being aided when one considers that fertile cavewomen were unwilling to replace the caveman's hands with their mouth. It's a good thing for you and I that the caveman did not respond to the non – fertile cavewomen, who were plenty in number and kept dropping subtle hints like shouting their sex was on fire and urging the caveman to put it out. Just imagining the scenario of 'What if' sends me pecker hiding deep into me bushes.

There was however a fallout out of all this and the very concept of evolution was under the hammer, when one considers a depressed AND a horny caveman. The caveman however resorted to majorly binging on some delicious F&B while ensuing to practice the art of knocking his knob on a nearby goat/cow or even poultry for that matter whilst learning to talk dirty which now gave birth to the now therapeutic words "Kaboom…Kaboom", "Hoover Damn", "Crunchy Mushrooms" and my personal favorite "Holy butter balls".

It was all one big depressing vicious circle of animal husbandry and being fowl or foul (never sure of synonyms at times like these), to be quite honest.

Till one fine day, the caveman got pretty bored of it all and decided to venture into one of the shopping malls along with his other caveman friend, who wanted to "check out" some pretty cool Neolithic Bronze weapons and netbooks, the damn dinosaurs were getting more and more dangerous having eaten all the data and porn on their laptops, the cavemen's existence was now under some serious threat.

Anyway, this was the first time the caveman truly experienced what few cavewomen share with cavemen. "Retail Therapy". It is one of "But Obvious" things which women don't tell men even to this day, retail therapy my dear children is the universal solution to all of life's problems.

Having realized the enormity of this epiphany, the caveman quickly exchanged all the bones and stones in his bank account for shiny little games and fancy phones. He was however enamored by this one little thing called "Wii". After reaching home and for the next 48 hours the caveman completely forgot about the congress party, the fowl and his precious coffee.

So he eagerly awaited @ian_stokoe (who I secretly believe is also 'The Stig'. Yes! The one who is wanted by the CIA and sleeps upside down like a bat) to finish developing his Wii Porn game, after which the caveman proceeded to live his life in utter bliss.

Then, one fine day, when the cavewomen finally realized that the caveman is no longer giving them the due importance they believe was rightfully theirs and the caveman couldn't be arsed about any of their pricey antics, decided to crawl back on their knees and give him a nice blow job whilst he continued playing on the Wii Console.

And that is how, my dear children, the mankind evolved and still continues to evolve.

Cows not allowed!

2010-01-05T19:41:00.002+05:30

Disclaimer – This post is in no way meant to hurt sense and sensibilities of people, especially the woman who got caught in the cross fire. But! If it does… well… don’t look at me… go deal with it…

Well this post is ironic on some many levels that empire state called to get some of them back. Well for starters, I am still writing about what conspired in the last week of the last year. Yes! The same old sodding 2009 which I had tried to best recount and recollect and regurgitate. But, apparently it wasn’t enough and there was still some levels of lethal booze left in me system. Anyway, on insisted demand, recap of the last week of the last year.

Dec 25, 2009 –

Friend’s “sangeet” function. Was kind of okay, till the end, and then courtesy some kick ass music and awesome sportiveness from my friend’s dad and mum the night took off, as they danced to the tune of “Mere Angne Mein” from the Amitabh starrer Laawaris.

Dec 26, 2009 –

Since there was no booze in the “sangeet” friend and I tanked up on some rum and then went and watched ‘3 idiots’, mostly to spite his girlfriend who was watching the movie leaving him alone. The movie was ‘O.K’ nothing too great to write home about. Aamir Khan acted like a delinquent retard in the movie to be honest.

Dec 27, 2009 –

Think I slept through most of the day. I am not really sure what I did that day. Ok! I think I went for ‘Avatar’. Again. As I tweeted, missed the climax the first time (I usually don’t… oh! Nevermind!)

Dec 28, 2009 –

The D – Day for my friend, who finally got married. Was quite fun to be honest. But! It’s like a movie you can watch it only once, a thousand wild horses and hogs with a gun pointed to my head wouldn’t get me to go into a wedding for the next hundred years. I wouldn’t mind going to bachelor parties though. Anyway… getting back to the recapping of shit shat out of me ass. Yeah! By the end of the day, I was in Kanpur, freezing my balls off.

Dec 29, 2009 –

Work summoned, which was bloody boring mostly because I did not have much to do. But in the night the clients decided to work against the cold by binging on whisky and who am I to say no to free booze. [It’s a hallmark of a true Indian, never say ‘No!’ to anything free, even if it’s rat poison]. Drank, more like swam through two bottles of whisky that night along with 2 other clients like a fish about to be sodomized in the fish bowl.

Dec 30, 2009 –

Bloody late to work. Hungover. Dehydrated. God knows what not! Most of the day went by with me clamping my teeth shut hoping that I don’t give the car a new colorful whisky – kebab designed upholstery.

Dec 31, 2009 and Jan 1, 2010 –

Well, well, well… if this is not the date most of you new readers have been waiting for. Let me be the tease, landed in Bombay and spent ages waiting for my friends to pick me up and get me a roof where I could change and head out for a potentially important meeting with a big shot. BUT! As would be the case, I was late, by a whole 45 minutes. Unheard of when it comes to me reaching someplace important.

Anyway, the one hour interview got cut down to a 5 minute one and I was back on my way to my friends place which would then serve to be the place where the now infamous “*** in Santa Cruz” took place. Anyway, the theme(?) of the house party was jungle theme, which found me wearing blinking devil’s horns and drinking copious amounts of alcohol. Drank so much that I was flying much before the first guest rang the bell.

What followed next was what would now go down in the annals of history as the day my dick ruled my drunk head and in the due process blinded the fuck out of me. Not wanting to disclose names (for fear of ruining marriages) or describe the physical nature of the woma(/e?)n [well considering how big the bird was, the doubt is pretty logical]. Well, for those still curious, let’s just say the cow puts ‘uggghhh’ in ugly.

Anyway, tongues swapped spit and my hands searched for the long lost land of Atlantis (for those curious, the lost land of Atlantis was never found, my hands got lost in the layers of debris [read flesh]) and before I knew it I had passed out.

However I do remember that I wished one and all and made a complete fool out of myself. But I am told that the fun AND the party began much after I had passed out when my friends found out what my dick had been leading me to do.

I would now be stating the obvious that the ribbing sessions began as soon as I woke up and found consciousness and continued till I left the shores of Bombay and in all likelihood will probably continue for quite some time now.

Anyway, all I can say is that it is good riddance 2009, 2010 has got a very expectant vibe, hopefully not the pregnancy kinds.

I am told that there are going to be another slew of marriages this year, which let me declare are illegal by my standards since I, King Leonidas, had declared all marriages of all friends, foes and acquaintances in the next 5 years to be null and void. I would however attend all functions and parties where booze would be served.

Anyway, will try and update on how crazy 2010 started off, with my laptop going all Rakhi Sawant on my now blubberous behind.

Ps: for those wondering “What were you thinking?”, well the truth of the matter is I wasn’t, I was drunk and I was horny and I am pretty sure I would allowed an elephant to grope me and blow me.

Pps: Wait a second… I think that’s exactly what happened…

Ppps: sigh!

Pppps: Apart from my perpetual horny and drunk state, I also blame my friend who was supposed to take care of the onions and the kebabs for me. Which he disastrously failed to do so which led to the events which occurred.

Ppppps: I also found that I have a huge gash on my head which is now all clotted and shit. I don't even remember when the fuck I bumped my head and where?

pppppps: Think I will just leave booze alone for a little while.

ppppppps: And hence, no married and more importantly no ugly cows shall be invited for any further parties. If they do stomp in then I shall cancel the party and blacklist my friend who got the cow in the first place.

THE END.

All I want for Christmas is… You!

2009-12-26T00:45:00.001+05:30

Yeah! Yeah! I know… stop with the rolling of the eyes already, it is corny song, but I quite like it and I love the movie too. Well, as I sit here alone in Thane (Not Bombay mind you…It's Thane) back from the "sangeet" of one my best friends in the recent years waiting for my other friends to come in and thinking about the call I got couple of minutes back from one of many ex – girlfriends, I began to wonder… "What is that you really want? And why the fuck are you feeling so crappy like the nappy of a new born baby, miserable like the dude from 'Love in the time of Cholera' a pathetic piece of shit like the dude who Preity Zinta jilts on her wedding day in Dil Chata Hai? Why? What do you want?"

And just like that, the answer dawned upon me like the morning wood and I realized, all I ever want is for somebody to believe in me, to have faith in what I want, to have the patience, and to bear with me and to understand that I will fuck things up considering that I learn all my lessons through trial and error. Now, for some of you guys, it may seem like a very simple thing to ask but for me, this is harder to find than the philosophers stone (no, not that Harry potter one OR the kidney stone… you know the actual mythical stone…Oh! Never mind!)

I know, I know, I am just 24 years old (21 til I die, as the song goes…Fine! It's 18 til I die…BUT! 21 is the legal drinking age) and I really shouldn't be searching for love at this point of time in my life when I should really be working towards my career. But, this is where you guys don't get it as to why this love thing is so important to me. I come from a broken home. A home where I learned that a home should be a place where I am happy to go back to and not fear it, a home is a place where the people are happy to be in each other's company rather than bitching and whining about all the things they do not have. And this is something I have always sought for and because I find this topic to be so raw and touchy I believe I am never able to articulate how important a relationship really means to me.

I try… I really do… You can't blame a man for not trying. But, this trying business is now getting tiring to be honest. It's a lot like that last stool lodged in your rectum and no matter how hard you try it doesn't come out, and then without warning you go "Oh! Sod it!" and you wipe your knock hole and pull up your pants.

Think that's what I got to do now, I know it will irritate me and even itch sometimes. But I am not going to try anymore. If it decides to come on its own then brilliant, if not, then… well… There is always the laxative or my hands to spank my monkey and tell it to behave.

But on a serious note, a very serious question… "Is it really that hard for somebody like me to find somebody who will understand me, believe in me and have the patience to do it all?"

2009 – The year that was

2009-12-19T12:52:00.001+05:30

Before I begin, I suggest you tuck yourself into your nice and warm duvet, I recommend this cause in all likelihood you are going to fall asleep reading this really, really long post. And I know, it's a bit early for me to recap the year but I am guessing I wouldn't be anywhere near a computer OR have the time to write it all down keeping in mind the insane amount of drinking and sleeping I need to catch up on. So here I write for all posterity, only to read it in another couple of months to find that what I have written is complete sodding bollocking self pity tirade. Anyway…

January

Having quit my job in December of 2008, I finally came to my senses and realized that I needed to get a job real quick. Result of the epiphany, a major deluge of mails being sent out by me. pleading companies to consider me.

But, as would be the case, none of them got back. Recession was grabbing companies by their balls and screaming was largely muffled with talks about recession.

February

Finally managed to get a job which was paying quite decently(okay! Understatement, the pay was pretty damn good). But to be honest, I hated the work I was doing. It was a glorified admin work for which I was getting paid a bomb. Though on the bright side of things, my sex life was creaking and breaking beds. Didn't do much for Valentine 's Day, even if I did, I don't quite remember what I did.

March

Sex life was brilliant, but I still wasn't hearing back from the companies I was interested in. Think, March was the time when I went into a pseudo live in relationship.

April

Spent some time in Bombay (Raj Thackery, you can come and blow me penis and suck on me balls, though I think it would be very un-maharasthrian of you to do).

Think this was the time of the year when I messed up my live in relationship when I developed feelings for this girl in Bombay. It is suffice to say, it did not go down too well with the VHP flag raising, hanuman chest thumping "Jai Shri Ram" chanting girl who was staying with me in Bangalore.

May

My lack of interest in the work I was doing was becoming more and more apparent and me boss was losing his patience faster than Pamela Anderson bobs her boobies on Baywatch. I officially called off the live in relationship OR the girl called it off, am not sure, though am pretty sure the girl called off, Anyway… But being the dick I am, made mostly of buffalo skin, these things more or less bounced of me hide like an arrow shot towards Gulliver by Lilliputians.

June

My roommates decided that The last week of May and first week of June would be a real nice time for them to leave me alone at home.

Confession: I don't do alone so good, especially not on my birthday.

Anyway, finances had to be tightened, and I needed something with which I could leash my sanity which was ebbing away like the receding line of Jeff Goldbum in 'The Fly'.

BUT! The need to get laid was paramount, well, you don't expect anything better than this from a caveman now do you? So went to Bombay couple of times, but every single time was a KLPD moment. But the romantic I am at heart and the lying, thieving horny bastard that I actually am, I followed that Greek (?) thing about "Trying and trying again". Yes, I can be quite daft and dick headed sometimes. (Yes! I did mean that as an euphemism)

July

My boss had enough of me and I had enough with the shitty glorified high paying job. So when he decided to show me the door, I was more relieved than upset to be honest. So the job hunting resumed once again. Finances with all the going back and forth to Bombay with no sex was finally beginning to burn a hole in my pocket and considering how close it is to my genitals I had to choose. Either I take the risk and go ahead, roll the dice and hope that I get lucky OR I cock it up (pun intended) and sit at home and figure out what I wanted to do in life.

Having grown old just the previous month, I decided to stay put and wet my pecker in some cold water rather than 'honey pots'.

I did not realize how much blood gets diverted to my groin instead of my brains till I realized how much work I got done in this month. Applied for the Army (There is a twisted logic behind it, and too long for me to type it out). Started writing "Alan – Tales of a Nobel Prize winning bastard", my first (complete tosser of an attempt) stab at novel writing.

But, there were bound to be lapses in my attempts to stop the blood flow to my third leg. So, ended up going to Goa, was fun actually, and even though I still had to wet my pecker in cold water it was fun nevertheless.

August

This month went by in doing two things mainly, viz., wait for the call letter from the Army and writing "Alan – Tales…".

And everybody who knows me on any of my many first name basis will know that I am not really known for being patient, I am what one would call as a truant stubborn pain in the nether region 6 year old. And this whole waiting business was beginning to get to me.

But, surprisingly I managed to do quite well with my sanity, freelance assignments started to come in, and I started to look at some more money and make a teeny tiny dent into the growing wall of debt.

September

Well September started on a really horrible note. Got "Fuck Out!" order from the Army. On psychological grounds.

Was no big surprise really, considering the fact that I have been telling myself and rewarding myself to not be part of any group. The Army on the contrary rewards you to stop thinking for yourself and follow the orders given to the pack. But I would be lying and be caught if I said this news did not affect me. And any good liar knows that you never lie when you know you are going to get caught.

This news had bought me very close to the edge. And when you are alone near an edge, your mind dares you to do some rather stupid things. It's good thing that I am smarter than my mind. But, this breakdown did have repercussions, I junked "Alan – Tales of blah blah", all 70000 words. And, well considering the fact that I got dumped. AGAIN! Did not really do much to my already broken and trampled upon ego given that the reason for being dumped was ""You don't figure in my plans…I want to buy a flat in Dadar and you don't fit in it! I don't see you making that happen!"

October

Well, having been kicked in the gonads plenty of times before I had now developed quite the plan to deal with it. But it still did hurt, a LOT. So, I started writing, again. And I was doing this mostly to keep my sanity in check and not to mention that somebody had once told me that I should seriously consider writing. Anyway, all the writing and rewriting gave birth to "Adam". Of whom I am rather proud of. But, the now towering wall of debt was threatening to fall down on my beaten up black and blue behind. And things, to be honest, looked real bleak.

November

BUT! There is a reason why I pride myself to be King Leonidas, the lion king of Sparta. Got couple of work assignments. Which meant that I could now kick that Persian messenger into the well of death, well if not kick him into the well of death at least tell him to give me a month's time to make part payment.

As I began to work again, however short it was, I remembered how much fun it used to be, travelling and working and thinking. The porn material for an intellectual mastrubator, who hasn't got laid for a while now. Scratch that. Who hasn't got laid for a very long time now.

December

Right, it's the middle of December and I have worked for ONE whole month. When I say one whole month I mean all 31 days, including Saturdays and Sundays. But a man has got to do what a man's got to do.

Anyway, will be spending my new year's in Bombay. Not sure with whom or doing what. But! Let's hope it was better than all the previous years barring 2008 and 2009. Crossing my fingers for a few things. Don't want to talk about it and jinx it. (I said talk about it, I can and will tweet about it).

Anyway, before I end this year. A special message to some very special people.

To all you losers who got married this year. Take my middle finger, you know what to do with it.

To all those losers who are yet to get married but will get married in the next year "suck my balls".

To all the non – psycho, non – race supremist, non – gold diggers gorgeous Ladies… Call me!

Stained Glass

2009-10-18T23:35:00.001+05:30

Right! So before you begin reading the story, brief context of the story and the title…

Stained Glass here is supposed to be something like spilt milk… An issue that has gotten beyond repair… Not the Sistine Chapel stained glass. Credit to be shared with Anon (yes I know you don't like that name…) :P

Stained Glass

"Things really weren't supposed to be like this. I was just supposed to meet him for coffee. What the fuck happened?" thought Felicity. As she searched for her knickers and dress as the first rays of the sun crept through the venetian blinds of Michael's plush apartment.

Felicity did not dare look into the mirror next to the door as she let herself out. Michael slept peacefully. While she was searching for her clothes and giving the room one final sweep, just to make sure she hadn't left anything behind which might prompt her to return to the scene of her crime, the thoughts which kept going round and round in her head like a bunch of girls going at it on a merry – go – round were "Who in the world can this man be sleeping so soundly? Must be bringing a lot of women in here…I am so stupid…I hope Matt doesn't suspect anything foul…FUCK! Where the hell did he throw my bra now…This is so stupid… I really should have said No to him when he asked me to sleep in…Ah! There it is… How in the world did it reach there?"

"Yes! Hi I will have a tall half-skinny half-1 percent extra hot split quad shot latte with whip." Felicity rattled off out of habit to the guy behind the counter before he could say rather than ask "The usual?"

As she found herself in her usual coffee shop to get her morning fix of caffeine. This is where she met Michael the previous day, "All I ever wanted was caffeine kick… a pick me up after that horrible meeting with Gwen – am a bitch – Bovine… not to get picked up by some… God! He was something… Can't take that away from Michael… if that's his real name…"

"Here you go" said the man behind the counter cheerily, as Felicity paid and walked out onto the streets trying to hail a cab back to office. Her tumultuous train of thoughts continued…

"Does the coffee guy know about what happened last night? How can he know? He works in the morning shift.. But what if he did? No… Don't be absurd Felicity! Nobody knows what happened last night, except Michael, me of course…unless…"

"The Plaza, please" as she sat in the cab, her conversation continued with herself.

"Should I tell Matt about what happened, poor thing thinks I pulled an all nighter in office, if only he knew what kind of an all nighter it was… He will be broken and will probably me for the rest of his and my life… I do like Matt… Oh God! Why? Where did my judgment vanish last night"

"Here you go" said the cab driver as the taxi pulled next to Felicity's office. An ugly statement to the grotesque monuments made of steel and glass which were springing up quite rapidly around the city.

As she entered the building, and waited for the elevator, she thought "Whatever it was last night, it definitely can't continue anymore, last night was a stain on the fragile glass of relationships and sanity I am gently caressing and holding, I can't afford to attempt wiping it and risk causing abrasions on my glass… I will probably do my best and hide it with the other stains… let it blend into the many volatile colliquative events and people in my life…But… I think this one will stare at me more than the rest of them…"

Blue - Review

2009-10-18T17:14:00.001+05:30

Now I have never been known to review a movie in a separate blog post altogether which I don't end up recommending and raving about for weeks and months on end. But I think, 'Blue' will have to buck this tradition.

There are a number of things which go right for the movie. For starters, the casting department did a half decent job of getting half the players right. The songs and the music were good (minus the videos, am talking about just the audio). Lara Dutta in a bikini! *Sigh!* (I did say number of things right? Well Lara Dutta in a bikini … get it? Oh never mind!)

Now am not a director, nor am I a budding film maker, but if I wanted to be one, then I would take 'Blue' as that one movie which taught me all the things I should never ever do if I ever were to make a movie. Right from the opening sequence of Sanjay and Akshay sparing in the boxing ring (somebody introduce reality and common sense to Mr. Dutt, who spars with his wind sheeter on) which was ripped off 'Broken Arrow', Akshay trying to pick up Kylie 'Swingers' style, Zayed's bike being blown off courtesy 'Oceans 12', Sanjay Dutt getting into a gun battle La 'Bad Boys' style, there references to 'Dude Movies' are galore. I mean sure all these scenes are iconic and brilliant, but do I really want to see them again? The answer is No!

But, if the movie was more like a quiz of spot the movie from which the scene is lifted off from then it does make for good entertainment.

The biggest problem I had was with the indecision on behalf of the director and the screenplay writer on characters and their actual personalities, none of the characters got the chance to explain themselves or their behavior. I don't really blame the actors since the movie is supposed to be director's vision (or so I am told, I may be wrong here). Specifically Sanjay's paranoia with Akshay manipulating him or Zayed's return to the family fold. And if you ask me, the audience realization of Akshay being the bad guy should have been as monumental as people's realization that Naseerudin Shah was the bad egg 'Mohra'.

Again, the movie could have been good, could have been great even, but then, too many influences ruined it all for me. And maybe the director could have mixed and matched and probably extended his movie watching to encompass more genres than just plain Hollywood action movies.

And I can only say that it was money well spent on Anthony D' Souza, an expensive lesson taught. Hope the bugger can remember things learnt during the course of his first movie. And hope somebody gives him a list of movies which will inspire him to think and have his own vision than pawning something off.

And while am on the subject – Who the fuck put that sticker of a lip stud on Katrina's lips? And doesn't today's technology or whatever they use in the back rooms of production remove that god awful black sticker sticking to her lips? And really? Dreadlocks? Wasn't Monica's tryst with them in F.R.I.E.N.D.S teach you guys a lesson. Very few women can carry them off and Katrina Kaif isn't one of them. A quick look in the mirror would have proven that.

IF...

2009-10-18T11:20:00.000+05:30

If my report card came out in the form of a greeting card, this is probably how it is going to look like ----->

This is worse than the infamous incident of the broken pencil, 1999. True story.

I need somebody to play spin a yarn with me for a little while

2009-10-14T00:24:00.001+05:30

So, since a lot of you don't know, Legend Press is going to take quite some time to let anybody know about the status of the whole short story thing. (And if you are a regular reader, you might have got a copy of that story in your inbox asking you for your feedback) Anyway, till things clear up on the whole proper job front, I have begun another writing project. This time around, I intend on finishing it.

But there is a slight problem, owing to the lack of social interaction at the moment, having difficulty in proceeding past certain road blocks, owing to which I need somebody to play spin a yarn with me and thereby giving the story a much needed push. Anyway, am posting the 2^nd chapter of the whole thing up until the part post which I am having trouble getting past.

Read the troublesome part here

Well you all know my mail id. Any help at this point of time would be real nice.

The show is still running

2009-10-08T10:38:00.001+05:30

There are very few things apart from being inside an airport and watching movies, which make my heart glow with orgasmic joy. And since with the current credit crunch, I haven't been able to visit my happy place. SO…

I have been indulging myself in movie gluttony, been clocking about 3 movies every night for the last 3 nights. Some of them I loved, and some were so – so… Since I can't be arsed to write an individual review for each movie, so thought will do them in bulk like I did the last time around. So here goes nothing…

500 Days of Summer

After 'Say Anything' this is the next movie which has dared to reverse the gender stereotype. Brilliant soundtrack for the movie and the editing is top notch. The movie's 1 line synopsis is really the tag line of the movie 'It is not a love story, it's a story about love.'

Do I recommend it? Yes! I do, especially to those who keep jumping into relationships (read me) thinking they have finally found the one.
Quick Gun Murugan

Made a bad judgment call and watched it in Hindi, and even though it's one big hilarious commercial for PETA and all things 'filmy' (especially relating to the years 60s – 80s) the movie would have been a great movie had I watched it in say 'English' or 'Tamil'. Bad judgment call on my behalf.

Do I recommend it? Definitely one time watch. Watch it just for the brilliant effort and thought which has gone behind the movie.
Bronson

It has been a bloody long time since there was a single character which was portrayed in a manner which will give me a boner and give birth to a new alter ego in me. "My Name is Charles Bronson". That's the line Tom Hardy opens the movie with, and from there on till the end of the credits, it's all Tommy boy's show. Not much of a story, since it really goes on a very abstract level, much like Anurag Kashyap's 'No Smoking', but Tommy boy. You get million stars for your performance.

Do I recommend it? Facking yeah! If you can watch only one character portrayed in movies this year? Make it Bronson!
Fast and the Furious 4

Rubbish really if you ask me. Too many references to the first part, unwanted and unnecessary cameos just for shite sakes, no decent NOS – adrenaline induced street racing.

Do I recommend it? No way! I mean sure if you got nothing else to watch AND you are trying to get inside your girl's pants, then, this is might make for the perfect (boring) date movie, she won't even let you get to the end of the movie before she is jumping your bones just out of sheer boredom.
I love you, Beth Cooper

Ok, I agree Hayden Panettiere WAS hot in Heroes (I stopped watching it after the first season). But she still needs to work on that on screen persona whose screen presence is going to powerful enough to take sizeable amount of your eyeball visibility. Considering she is the lead in this movie, and the whole movie kind of rests on her shoulders, it is a major letdown. She just looks like a nice cute little Disney kid who comes on TV during the Sunday morning cartoon shows. Nothing major to write home about.

Do I recommend it? Nope! Seriously, give this a miss even if your life depended on it. You really aren't missing much. (There is a second long scene where you get to see her boobies, but then again you can see that on Youtube, no need to waste time and watch the whole movie for it)
Escapist

Like I orgam-weeted (orgasmic twitting) after watching the movie. There is Memento, there is Machinist and then there is 'The Escapist', you probably know and remember Brian Cox as Edward Norton's father in 25^th hour (the one who gives the really long and awesome monologue at the end of the movie), well he breathes life into this movie. Like most Irish movies (ex. The wind that shakes the barley) are bloody bleeding slow, this movie was no different, and till the last 7 minutes of the movie it is not.

You continue watching the movie, because it has got shades of 'Prison Break' in it, and even though things are moving at a real slow pace, it makes for compelling watch.

But, and this is a big but, (bigger than butt of a kid born having Beyonce's and JLo's behind) the last 7 minutes, Boy! What do I say? And I definitely don't want to be doing any spoiler alerts now. Just watch it.

Do I recommend it? Hell Yes! It's a brilliant story, brilliant acting, brilliant editing and direction. The movie is top notch. If there is one mind fuck movie you want to watch this year, make it 'The Escapist'
State of Play

Has a stellar star cast, but out of all the big weights present in the movie, it is the 'Queen' who steals the show and the scenes. At some point of time, I even got reminded of Judi Dench's 'M'. She was marvelous. Though the story lacked any real twists and turns (which are peppered throughout the movie like oregano seasoning on your Domino's pizza) it failed to get any "Oh!"'s out of me. It still was a good decent thriller.

Do I recommend it? It's not a theater watch, but if it's coming on the telly, I wouldn't tell you to change the channel (btw… How the hell did you get the remote for the telly in the first place? Give it back here)
UP

Last year there was Wall – E, and this year there is 'UP'. I mean Pixar makes all these non – people movies (you know animated ones, not flesh and blood kinds) and with each passing year the stories get more and more poignant. 'UP' gets my vote for the best animated movie of this year and I would be bloody surprised if it doesn't win an Oscar. Would be bloody surprised I tell you!

But whatever you do, DO NOT miss the beginning of the movie, I repeat DO NOT miss the beginning. The beginning has got the best love story short made this year (500 days btw was not a love story, it's a story about love, just clarifying)

Do I recommend it? YES! A big whooping YES! There are very few movies like these which get made in a year and if you can't watch them then please stop watching movies altogether. Period.
Adventureland

Facking waste of time. That is exactly what it was. Even though it has got that vampiry Kristen Stewart, (who, like I mentioned, is HOT, in a weird – awesomely – crazy – in – bed thing going on for her, I will definitely not do her,) [Notice it's a comma, not a period, I am still keeping my options open at the moment).

All the movie has is some great late 80's sound tracks and that's about it. There are no moments in this movie. The story is really confusing, you can't label it as a coming of age story, neither is it slapstick American pie. It's just a plain awkward teen movie with some adult morals. And it just doesn't fit.

Do I recommend it? NO! Unless and until you are threatening to do me from behind with a gun pointed at my head, I am not going to change my decision.
The Ugly Truth

I mean is this the dude who was King Leonidas? Seriously? I mean Gerard of '300' with his abs is awesome, Gerard of 'ps: I love you' with his Irish accent is bearable, but Gerard without either is plain facking pain in the ass. It's supposed to be a rom – com, I get it. And coming from a self confessed rom – com junkie, this was beyond all hope. I mean the movie tried to be bit like 'Hitch' for women. Every Rom – com is defined by one big moment, this had none. End of story.

Do I recommend it? NO! And that's the ugly truth.

Some of the things which I noticed after watching all these movies was that barring the exception of '500 days of Summer' and 'UP', there are no characters who polarize you, even in movies which I have recommended like a lunatic. There is just no thread which binds the audience to the story or the character. You don't label characters as being good or bad or somebody for whom you are sympathetic towards or just plain cheering on for the pure pleasure of it.

But the good thing, in spite the obvious lack of alter ego inducing characters, there are some good stories (scratch that) some great movies.

The year is yet to get over and there are lot more movies I need to finish watching. If I remember or if somebody reminds me to do a year round up at the end of December, I shall do one. J

Ps: Do me a favor and leave a comment with movies you think I SHOULD watch. If I have already watched it then I will let you know J

500 days of summer – Review

2009-10-04T10:56:00.001+05:30

After being disappointed by movies which I was say mildly excited about (G.I Joe, Transformers 2 for example), 500 days has once again proved why I love watching movies, and why I love stories where I can see the characters enact the emotions I see them experiencing inside my head, on screen.

Well in my opinion, this movie is the true successor to 'Say Anything'. I mean, it's got a stellar soundtrack, which forced me to pause the movie and go online and download the music while I was still watching the movie. It portrays men in a manner which very few story tellers are comfortable with, men who are vulnerable, who feel pain, are not afraid to cry, no am not referring to men who seem to have their dicks buried deep inside their vagina's but men like you and I, not like men we wish we were.

And that is where the movie really scores points, this is really a story about Tom Hansen (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) and every other bloke out there who secretly believed that he had finally met the one (some like Tom and me are brave enough to share this piece of news with our friends), only to have his heart handed back to him, along with a request to get a pair of balls.

You know as a guy you are going to love any movie which begins with a twist to the usual scheme of events, it begins with the usual disclaimer about the whole "Bears no resemblance to real or blah, blah…BLAH!", "Especially You Jenny Beckman", "Bitch."

I mean there are times when you as a dude begin to replace Zooey's face with every girl who played you out like how you usually tend to act when you are acting like a prick, and you really want to hate her. But you just can't. The humor is ironic, and sometimes too subtle, but that's how things are usually.

The movie references so many awesome movie styles. I mean I know I am rambling, mostly because I got my boxers in a bunch at just how awesome the story is. Actually coming to think of it, it's just another love story. Actually it's not. Oh never mind me and my insane babbling.

Go watch the movie.

The End.

Rating – Super Facking A

Happy days are back again!

2009-09-28T18:42:00.000+05:30

Soul crushing week

2009-09-09T19:58:00.001+05:30

Well, that is exactly what it has been this past week. It was more soul crushing than the day I got lectured by that physics teach about how I will never be any good for anything and literally trash me and every single dream I dreamt off. There have so many things happening in the last week, that I don't even know where to begin. Let's just say that I am at the worst possible place right now in life and the worst part is that I don't know where I am headed towards. Life sucks at the moment and I need a bloody major distraction before I drive myself over the edge and with each passing day, the edge seems closer than ever.

Breaking News

2009-08-30T10:13:00.001+05:30

Well I am going to keep this real short and simple. Submitted the synopsis, sample chapters and personal statement for the Bitmead Bursary. But what really has got me all excited and peeing me in knickers is the news that my application for the 110^th TGC has been selected and I am expected to go to Allahabad for the interview. And if things go well, then boy, I have to tell you… anyway… Waiting for the damn call letter to arrive in me letter box now.

Now am sure that the excitement I am currently reeling is not going to come through in this post. But trust me… oh never mind… I can't think straight now…

Phew! That was some long run!

2009-08-28T04:25:00.001+05:30

It has been quite some time for a lot of things. It's been quite some time before I went on one my usual movie marathons (kind of helps that none of my roommates are at home to try and talk to me or disturb me while I watch a movie), it's been quite some time since I came down here and just rambled.

Anyway, quick review of all the movies which I have watched over the last 36 hours –

Duplicity – Forgettable performances by the lead actors. Julia Roberts looks like a pretty ordinary woman rather than the pretty woman I know and remember her by, there is really not much for Clive Owen to do, he doesn't even manage to impress me with this English Accent. But, having said all this, the story is pure brilliant, it's a lot like Match stick men if you are looking for a movie reference.
Public Enemies – Now I have always found Johnny boy to be plain awesome in anything and everything he does, and he doesn't disappoint in this movie as well. But the story speed is tad slower for my taste and Christian Bale is a effing tool if you ask me, when you are watching the movie watch the way he says the words ending with 'ere'. Makes a bloody bumbling idiot of himself, there are scenes where both Johnny and Bale need to confront each other, and it is so easy to notice that Bale is bloody pussy who is getting his knickers into a knot at the mere brilliance of Johnny.
Bangkok Dangerous - It is listed as an action movie in the movie archives. I will leave you to judge the movie's credentials when I say the Love story in the movie is better than the bloody action in it. It is almost a pain to watch Cage in his presumably wig trying to get that first piece of shit lodged in his anal rectum out of his constipated intestines. A B – Grade Hindi movie does far better justice than this movie.
In the loop – Now, I may not get Coen Brother's sense of irony and humor. But this BBC production is what makes me smile and laugh at times. It's a lot of like Office (the UK version with Ricky Geravis) only it's more like Office in the British cabinet. Funny. And plus it has ample English accent forcing me copy and imitate them. J
Crank 2 High Voltage – There are very few movies whose stories are so implausible and over the top that you love it. Crank the first one, was one such movie and you really thought that it would be the end of it all. But, trust me on this one, Crank 2 goes 1 up on Crank. They introduce all the main characters from the original movie and all those preposterous stunts they pull in the first movie, they go one better in this one. Brilliant. And with enough interludes of video games, you really ought to view this movie as a back story of a video game. And its pure brilliance.
Ghosts of Girlfriends Past – This is a movie I suggest you don't even think about, not even suggest it to your girl looking to score brownie points by acting out the emotional dude card, the movie is so horribly pathetic that even if you have gotten laid with the said girl you have suggested the movie to, you can forget about getting laid with her that day/night.
Fighting – Another movie which had a brilliant premise, it could have been great like Rocky, but what does it result in, fuckal bullshit. Now, I have said, time and again, I love my stories which have a beginning, a middle and an End. But this movie, all it has is a fuckall middle. You don't the beginning and the ending you certainly can't call it an ending. Disappointed really, I was really looking forward to watch the movie.
Religulous - Ah! What can I say about the plain genius of this movie? You thought Michael Moore and his Fahrenheit 911 was good. You really don't know what you are talking about. Anybody whoever feels anything about religion (notice how I religion, and not about being religious or spiritual for that matter) which is about everybody on this damn (oh! Am I now going to go to hell? :P ) planet, they ought to watch this movie. Brilliant. Sheer, absolutely brilliant.

A lot of first’s this weekend

2009-08-20T18:22:00.001+05:30

As you grow old there are a lot of things you can knock of your bucket list. Well even though there are not things to look forward in life you know with the rising debts and no means of clearing them up, life has a way of throwing you a bone now and again to keep you interested in the game. I got one, I am going to be attending me friend/brother's bachelor party. Being the first dude in our gang to tie the knot, take the plunge, commit suicide, you know etc etc. His bachelor party is something which was an idea for a long time now.

And now the idea is being put into action. So, without his knowledge, we taking him to Alibag, one of those nice quaint little places with beaches and all, away from the hustle bustle of the city of Bombay. Going to get him royally drunk, there are 2 people in our gang I have never seen drunk and talk shit. One is Nikhil (the dude who is getting married) and the other is Gopal. Well, apart from getting him drunk, we are getting STRIPPERS.

Now, am not really sure which makes me more happier, the fact that we are not such big bastards as to not throw the bachelor party, or the fact that there are going to be strippers. Now, I have done and seen a lot of shit in my life. But stripper! That is definitely going to be a first.

And since bringing any of the girls we are interested or who may be interested in us to this gig is going to be one big fucking mistake. So, all boys, loads of fucking booze, and stripper(s). I am not sure how many are going to be there though.

They say, bachelor party is not really for the groom but more for his friends or something like that. Whatever, I am just too damn excited right now. Anyway, will try and get some photos of the insanity which is going to ensue that night. Laters

It’s the same damn story all over again

2009-08-09T02:47:00.001+05:30

It really is, and this time I am not even going to blame anybody here, not me, not people, let us just face some facts. I am not good looking, I don't have money, currently jobless, have no idea what I want to do in life, don't have anybody I can call as family, and going by the sound of whatever I am typing I am pretty sure a couple of you are rolling your eyes and telling me to snap out of this self pity shit. Well, I am trying, I really am, but it is bloody difficult, when you get bricked on your face with the same shit again and again. Not only am I tired of this shit, but also feel like a fucking loser, who dared to think that things would be fucking different this time around. It never is, and I don't think it ever will be.

It’s been a while

2009-08-08T17:06:00.001+05:30

I am all dolled up in Rum n Coke and I am tripping on this song… Doesn't do me any good, that is for sure. But fuck it! I have been brain fucked since 5 in the morning, don't think it's going to change anytime soon…

It's been a while
Since I could hold my head up high
and it's been a while
Since I first saw you
It's been a while
since i could stand on my own two feet again
and it's been a while
since i could call you
But everything I can't remember as fucked up as it may seem
the consequences that I've rendered
I've stretched myself beyond my means

It's been a while
since i could say that i wasn't addicted and
It's been a while
Since I could say I love myself as well and
It's been a while
Since I've gone and fucked things up just like i always do
It's been a while
But all that shit seems to disappear when i'm with you
But everything I can't remember as fucked up as it may seem
the consequences that I've rendered
I've gone and fucked things up again

Why must i feel this way?
just make this go away
just one more peaceful day

Its been awhile
Since I could lok at myself straight
and it's been awhile
since i said i'm sorry
It's been awhile
Since I've seen the way the candles light your face
It's been awhile
But I can still remember just the way you taste
But everything I can't remember as fucked up as it may seem
I know it's me i cannot blame this on my father
he did the best he could for me

It's been a while
Since I could hold my head up high
and it's been a while since i said i'm sorry

2009-08-08T13:59:00.001+05:30

I am crying! I am drunk out of my senses right about now, I know nobody will be coming down to this section, which is I have had to track this thread down to write it all down... FUCK! I want to scream, wail and bawl my eyes out. I want to smash my fist into things and do some serious fucking damage, just so that my fist fucking breaks and I can mask this pain inside with some serious physical pain!!!

Will always remain a boy

2009-08-08T07:59:00.001+05:30

There was a good reason why I never wanted to go back home, but I guess in the two years I did not call home or even entertain the thought of going home made me forget the reason. In all the days I spent at home, the same strange eerie feeling that a lot of shit has happened in this site haunted me, much like the same way you feel the chills when you enter a haunted place. Spooks the fuck out of you…

The domestic violence may have stopped for now, but the ego battles still take place and for the two years I was not a part of my family, I saved myself from being a war casualty. And I also being the fool that I am even went on a limb and hoped that things are finally turning over a new leaf. But for the last day, the taunts started again, the sarcasm inflicted pain one can never see the blood it bleeds. And to top it all, I found myself being transported to being a little boy all over again never quite understanding what the fight is all about.

All this was at one side, and the weight of a prophecy by a man I met once who said, "Son, you will be involved with a lot of women, but you will always be the one left hurt, never think about getting married, because you just won't be able to field the pain it throws on you…" And for a long time I have tried to prove that this prophecy to be nothing but a fallacy only to have my ass knocked to the ground with a mighty big slap across my face, the pain still searing across my flesh, I brush myself up and go at it again. And I have probably been repeating this pattern since 2001…

9 long years, and what I have learnt, that nothing has really changed, my dream world still doesn't exist, a world where the value of money is overshadowed by the love of two people, a world where love will find a way. It's all for the movies and books, reality is a different story all together I suppose, making me run towards these movies and books which are wrapped around these things. It's all a vicious cycle anyway…

9 long years, that's what it has taken me to realize that love don't mean 2 shits in this world, no matter how dearly I want to hold on it. 9 long years, it has taken me to realize that I will never wrap my head around the concept of people faking being in love. 9 long years, it has taken me to realize that I will always be a boy who still does not want to let go of this illusion called love. 9 long years, to realize that I will always believe in fairy tales and 9 long years to realize that they are just that, fairy tales, they never have existed other than people's imagination and in mine.

I am just in a very dark place right now. I think I am going to back to binge drinking and heavy chain smoking all over again. I know I am supposed to counter these emotions and thoughts at some point of time, and I will. But not right now. Just not yet…

Ps: I just don't want to turn into a cynical cold hearted bastard I had become to protect myself, but looks like that is the only way I can be to make sure that the glue I put on to my broken heart gets enough time to set and last me few more years.

Pps: Will probably begin talking to the outside world in another couple of hours, the booze shop is yet to open around here.

Mama I am coming home

2009-07-30T22:21:00.001+05:30

So, after nearly close to 2 years, I am going back home. The reasons are just too hard for me to ignore anymore. My godmother is recuperating from an operation, and probably will get back to her old self if I am there talking to her and making her laugh and letting her know that her godson is not doing so bad after all. My mum has been aching to get a sight of me for donkey years now, but for whatever reason never was quite comfortable with meeting up my parents.

And god knows the status quo would have been maintained for many more years had it not been for a certain somebody. In the meantime, will also help out mum in her new venture as an entrepreneur, will certainly help change my status from being a jobless bum.

Anyway, will go now. Later…

Goa Hangover!

2009-07-27T01:13:00.001+05:30

As I sit here, twitting and deciding if I am going to continue writing "Alan – Tales of a Nobel Prize Winning bastard" there are a whole load of questions running around in my head.

When was the last time you did not have to explain a lie you said to make yourself feel better after getting caught?
When was the last time you feel asleep because you were in somebody's arms even when you were not sleepy?
When was the last time you spent entire mornings talking about random stuff and not felt the need to call upon somebody or do something else?
When was the last time you renounce doing something destructive but loved doing?

I know there maybe few of you out there who have probably answered yes to one at least one of the questions above. My answer to all of them is never. And for a longest time I used to think about the things like these and if I will ever have something special? And I had literally run through the whole list of "have you ever's" and "When was the last time", and I was scared that I will never be able to answer these while being true to myself more than anybody else.

And it really is a liberating feeling, being true to somebody other than you! It's hard enough being true to oneself, but being true to somebody else is even more difficult than one imagines. As you can make out, from the all this senti talk going on right now that the Goa hangover has not worn off yet.

At times it felt like I had spent ages vacationing, mostly because I missed my crowd on twitter. But at times it felt like mere seconds, (think this is what Einstein was talking about when referring to the whole relativity bit). Very few times does life give somebody a 2^nd chance, but I guess I just got my 3^rd chance.

There is a part of me which does not believe my good fortune. At the same time I am filled with so much of gratitude for all the things, especially the little things that it is not even funny. Anyway the pics will be shared with very close confidantes, as I am paranoid about this good happy phase of mine getting jinxed.

Got to go now, just been told about Adam's trip to the hospital, not feeling so good now. The buzz just got killed.

More later

What have I been keeping myself busy with?

2009-07-17T06:26:00.001+05:30

Well, for a long time I was getting depressed thinking about how I am going to be spending my idle time. There is only so many hours I can sleep in a day, watch tv, shit, shave and eat. So, while looking for something to keep me occupied in this period of inactivity, I came across what I can only call as my lifeline. "The Luke Bitmead Bursary", and it was really too good for me to ignore or even discard for whatever trivial reasons I could try and conjure at that ungodly hour of 3 in the morning.

So, I whipped open the word doc and started writing, and must say this is the only thing which has been keeping me busy, facebook really was falling short on that front. But where facebook failed, Twitter stepped in. Being more dynamic in nature than facebook, it really has played the role which this stupid blog was supposed to play. All you people who have been reading this blog suck! Yes, I am opening ostracizing all you bastards, still can't get myself to say the 'B' word for women…

Why you ask me? Well all this while when I have posted the initial work on me book you guys read it or even better don't read it, whatever be the case I never got no responses, which meant that this attention whore (read: me) never went further with the project. So, now that I finally working with full steam on this project which is about 1/5^th complete, this blog is going to suffer and probably answer the question "Wha(t) book?" with something concrete in the next couple of weeks.

So, am I resting this blog for good? I don't know, maybe. I certainly am not going to be coming on here as often I have been in the past. And it's all thanks to you guys. J

Later, was a pleasure all this while!

Ps: don't even get me started on the goa trip! So not a good time to ask about it…

Some more theories

2009-07-09T22:52:00.001+05:30

Well, can't really help but keep thinking about some random shit just so that I don't jump in front of the next cow or buffalo which passes in front of my place. So, while the job hunting is going on at an alien wrap speed which makes it look like it really is crawling along but gives you the impression that many light years have gone by since you last checked the tachometer readings. I have had those epiphanies which makes you deludes you into thinking that you are some sort of tormented genius, let me list them out for you –

Depression – While it is but obvious for a 'normal' human being (yes, I am taking the liberty of calling myself that, so sue me!) to be depressed from time to time, it is totally normal. So, while riding my bike (which is a savior, trust me, especially when you don't have money in your account) I came up with this theory ( like many others!) that people get depressed about things, things which they are unable to do. The inability to do stuff is what really gets people by their balls. Whether, it is meeting up with friends for coffee, or go some place travelling or sorting things out with friends you have fallen out of touch with, just stuff which people are unable to do. That is what causes depression. Now, I don't know what the hell the shrinks have to say about this, but I seriously believe that this is what causes people to fall into depression.
The year 2009 – is really the year of accidents, serendipitous or otherwise in nature. Whether it is with people getting married, divorced, people giving birth to things or people dying. This really, really is a year of accidents. Every year has a trend, couple of years back, the trend was to get married, I mean you turn on any news channel, or pick up any tabloid you saw/read/heard about people tying the knot. Then came the year of people giving birth, and then came the year 2009 – 10. Either people are dying, or getting injured or getting married. They all really are the same thing. Accidents.
Children of the 90's – Just like the children of the 60's who saw the coming of age of drug induced euphoria and a turn of events which perforate the history books which we were forced to read and memorize the dates for. We, the children of the 90's are truly at the centre of a phase which can best be described as 'passing of the baton'. I mean the number of people who are considered legends/icons of our era are retiring, whether it was Pete Sampras or Michael Schumacher or Michael Jackson or Ajit Agarkar (oh BTW, I am getting his autograph, I can now die as a happy man :D ), whether it was the rise and fall of Amitabh Bachchan or Metallica or Guns n Roses, whether it was the rise of new stalwarts like Roger Federer. I mean the list is endless really). And all these people, who we now take it for granted and occasionally name drop with bravado, will be part of the history books which (your) kids will read about and think you are a loony when you will talk about these years to them.
They were right! – Yes, all those people, my mum, N, P everybody whoever said that 'Your friends, will move on with their life, they will go to a different city, get a job, and basically live their life whilst you stay back stranded trying to figure out what the fuck happened!'. And it was more than evident when I went to Bombay this time around. These were the people, who have been with me, seen me through my high's and lows for almost half my lifetime. And suddenly, I can't recognize who these guys are. Bloody unnerving and irritating, especially when you think about all those people who are going 'I told you so' right about now. And it is true, you do remember things people say in jest or otherwise years after and curse them.
Things happen in bunches – Whether they are good (like the ones which makes pee because you are jumping so much) or bad (like the times when you couldn't find a place to pee for so long that when you finally do you shit in your pants!). They always happen in a phase kind of manner. And they all really are cyclical, the only downside is that the bad things have a bigger curve than the good times.
It is very difficult for you to get paid for something you really are good at –I am blessed…What am I blessed with? Well, I am blessed with a sharp eye, I can spot trends way before than anybody else. Whether it is going to be a movie, book, slang, sitcom, fashion trend. Just about anything, it really is like a gift, I just can't seem to help it. Though it's a different issue that I really don't know how the hell to put it good use, especially where I can make money out of it. And it is true, a lot of people who are good at shit just can't seem to get paid for it. Maybe the Joker was joking about his dad telling him about not doing something one is good at for free.

There were other theories too, I forgot them now. Will write in later, anyway got all the time in the world to do shit now! Hope the damn SSB letter doesn't take ages to come through as said by other people, but most likely will not come at all. Sigh!