Monday, April 23, 2007

And now I'm scared

The Walking Dead

“It struck me that perhaps a lot of the people you see walking about are dead. We say that a man’s dead when his heart stops and not before. It seems a bit arbitrary. After all, parts of your body don’t stop working — hair goes on growing for years, for instance. Perhaps a man really dies when his brain stops, when he loses the power to take in a new idea. Old Porteous is like that. Wonderfully learned, wonderfully good taste– but he’s not capable of change. Just says the same things and thinks the same thoughts over and over again. There are a lot of people like that. Dead minds, stopped inside. Just keep moving backwards and forwards on the same little track, getting fainter all the time, like ghosts.”

Coming Up for Air, by George Orwell

N had sent me this passage a few months ago, and I think I got a fleeting glimpse of one of these people today morning. We stared at each other for a bit, and then I reached out to touch him. The tips of our fingers met, but all I felt was cold glass.

I'm sure hoping he doesn't re-surface.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Thoughts in the shower I

- Why is a booby-trap called so ? Who came up with that name ?
- I could easily be the star of the next "Whales Gone Wild" video.
- I wonder if I would make more money as a stripper ??
- Why do most of my blog posts come to me in the shower ?
- I think I'm going to put up a picture from college on Orkut, and caption it ... "We are the kooooollll guyzzz".
- *soap slip* It's almost like the soap decided it doesn't want to be used anymore. Do soaps really feel anything ?
- How scary would it be if I turned on the shower one day, and blood came out ... like in that Saamri movie.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

*Chaataaakk*

Looking at me, no one can say that I'm not the "raja beta" kinds. And I am ... always have been. I was almost always among the three class toppers ... well, at least till the 10th ... but that's a different story. The point I am trying to make is that every teacher absolutely loved me.

And yet, when I look back, I've been slapped by far too many teachers for someone who was such a bholaa bhaala bachha. I think it is time to analyze the reason(s) and see if I deserved even one of them (though I know I did NOT).

Slap 1
Class: 4th, perhaps.
Provider: SG, the vocal music lady.
Description: My "best" pal, T, someone I have known for 23 frikkin years, is told that the entire class is required to come for music during SUPW (substitute period ... which very juvenile-ly used to be called Some Useful Periods Wasted !! ... don't ask !!). T comes into class and tells everyone to go for games. When the period ends, SG is naturally fuming and sends for T, who, in turn, asks me to accompany him; without letting me know the real reason. Naive and trusting that I am, I go to her office (the "music room") and get slapped since I was guilty by association.
Deserved: NOT in the least. Bloody fool T.

Slap 2
Class: 5th, maybe 6th.
Provider: Some science teacher, who I actually liked quite a bit !!
Description: She walks out of class, making T the class monitor; giving him the totally unenviable task of writing the noise-makers' names on the board. Naturally, my name is not put up there ... he's my best friend, for Gods sakes !! Sadly, science lady sees me jumping about, and gives me two slaps (when everyone else got only one) upon her return.
Deserved: No, since I wasn't even making noise. Dumb cow. Though I felt better because T got two as well !! Yeh dosti hum nahi etc.

Slap 3
Class: 6th
Provider: SS - stinky mouthed maths teacher.
Description: Stupid potty-breath. Her slaps weren't even on the cheek. She used to act like a goddamn wrestler and use the base of her palm to strike the underside of your nose. I believe I had to go near her face since I pulled the chair from under some girl and she (the girl, not SS) glided to the floor ... in retrospect, that was an extremely dangerous thing to do. Sorry, Anu.
Deserved: Only partially. I would have preferred Anu pulling the chair from under me.

Slap 4
Class: 6th or 7th
Provider: Another science teacher, with real scary eyes.
Description: So it's right after break and I'm walking up the ramp with a whole lot of sweaty children, with the super duper scary Geography teacher, Mrs. BB walking right in front of me. Mrs. BB was a slapping machine, plus she had long black hair, which she shampoo-ed with oil every morning, and made a bun out of her choti. She's walking right in front of me, and I decided to play with her bun (*Note to reader* Gentle reader, please get you mind out of the gutter !! *End Note*). While I'm busy amusing everyone around me, my ear suddenly feels a pressure from behind, and I am pulled back while a sea of students moves right along. It was the SST (scary Science Teacher - keep up, will you ?!!?), and she gave me two crisp ones, asked me my class and section, nodded in a "tu toh gaya" kind of way, and let me go.
Deserved: I really don't care. I'd take SST any day over Mrs. BB.

Slap 5
Class: 7th - school bus
Provider: That hobbit, Mrs. K - angrezi ki adhyaapika.
Description: Delhi summers are a real killer, and my mummy wanted me to stay hydrated. So along with my lunch, she gave me an orange to eat during break. The orange was saved till it was time to go back home, and was then enjoyed in the school bus. Of course, as every middle schooler knows, the peel is really the best part, since it can be the root of much mirth and merriment when you throw it at everyone and then hide behind your seat. While my friend and I were indulging in such joyous activities, by some freakish co-incidence, two sets of peels went and hit Mrs. K's head like a couple of Unabombers. Naturally, there were enough "madam ko bataoonga" type of kids who pointed her to us, and she gave both of us four .. F O U R ... slaps !!!
Deserved: What rubbish !! Can't she take a joke ? I should have squirted the juice from the chilka into her eyes and pushed her off the bus. Hmph.

Slap 6
Class: 9th ... yes, 9th !! I know !!
Provider: PS, hated mathematician.
Description: I'm standing in the middle of the auditorium (I don't really know why ... it was about 10 am in the morning), minding my own business, perhaps thinking of the various tiffins I would be stealing during break or something, when I see PS walking towards me. Naturally, being the polite boy that I am, I smile. The bitch ignores my smile, comes closer and gives me one tight slap (ekdum like they show on MTV) !! While I am reeling from the effects, I hear her shrill voice asking me the reason for missing the house meeting. Gathering my senses, lest I get slapped again, I shout at her, saying "I WAS there, you blind bat. And why the fuck are you even bothered? You're not my house mistress !! You're losing your marbles. I keeeel youuu". Ok ok .. something like that. That's when realization dawns on the bloody woman that the GG who missed the house meeting was GG1, not me ... GG2 (another long story ... some other time).
Deserved: Are you kidding me? The slap did not sting any less when she hugged me and asked me to slap GG1 from her side. By the way, that slap is still due. I think my aatma will only get shaanti when I slap him. Must remember.

Sunday, April 8, 2007

Her thoughts ... revealed !!

What the ... who is HE ?? And why in the world are they kissing him ? Ugh .. he looks like such a damn raisin ... yuck !!

*look left look right* heeheehee .. no one's around .. let me jump on his tummy .. what fun !!

Ufff .. I have no one to play house with .. wait .. he's playing with his He-Man models .. let me hide them and then put make up on him. Yayyy.

*slllaaaappppp* Oh, no reason.

I'm hungry ... I really don't feel like walking all the way to Nirulas. Oh slave boyyy ...

*beat to a pulp* Stupid bug.

Why the hell is he on the phone. That's MY property !! *snatch*

*slllaaaappppp* Oh, no reason.

Oh man ... he's taller than me now. That last slap he gave me really did hurt. Dammit.

Oh damn ... I forgot my stuff in the car. Slaveeyyyyy ...

Arey, why is he hanging around with my friends. How do I ask him to leave ? Hmm .. let me say it delicately ... LEAVE, PEST !!

*wisdom strikes*

God ... khud se toh he will simply not know how to organize his 16th birthday ki dance party. Let me make it memorable for him !!

What ? Dad's being difficult ? Abhi theek karti hoon.

Wow ... the kid sure knows how to debate !! *looks impressed*

Ooh .. these shirts will really suit him. Let me take all five.

Bechara ... boards de raha hai ... I'm sure he will like this to eat. Sab le chalti hoon.

Sigh ... I really didn't think it would get this quiet at home without him. Stupid Maharashtra college.

How do I get permission to come back this late ? How ? How ? Oh yeah ... let's get him to persuade dad now !! *heeheehee*

Damn ... he's carried both our bags long enough on this Bombay road. I think I'll take mine back.

Let me bug him by holding his elbow while we are walking. Haahahahahhaa. Kya cheekh raha hai !!

Hmm .. time to give him some gyaan on relationships.

Wow ... he got admission ... leaves in three months.

Shit ... he's hardly here for four weeks and I'm getting zero time to spend with him. Kal chhutti le leti hoon.

I'm SO bugged with all this rubbish. Let me call him and bitch and moan endlessly.

*Endless bitch and moan*

Aaah .. much better !!

Thank God he's going to speak to mom and dad about it. Sometimes I wonder when did he start behaving like my big bro !!

Errr ... again time for more relationship gyaan. This one will take some doing.

Hain ? Teen shots mein hee talli ? Wimp !

Yayy ... we're going to see him.

I know that must have been tough as hell for him. Well, I'm still his big sis ... and always will be. Everything will work itself out.


I've literally known you my whole life, and somewhere between beating the crap out of me, making me do all your work, fighting with me, fighting for me, giving me fashion advice, showing me how to dance, buying me endless stuff, always rooting for me, telling me it'll all get ok, amidst all the gossip sessions and through these past 26 years ... you stopped being my sis and turned into one of my closest friends. Cliched as this may sound, given a chance, I wouldn't change a bloody thing.

Happy Birthday, Aps. You're one of the very very very few people I miss every day.

Friday, April 6, 2007

Tales of FOBbiness I

I have always thought of myself as being quite resourceful, very street-smart, the I-will-find-a-way sorts. So when I landed at the airport, and the stupid senior desi students hadn't shown up on time to pick me, I cursed them for a bit ... and then decided to find out just what was taking them so long. For some reason, I simply could not wait, and had decided to shift into "diva mode" soon after landing !!

So I walked up to a pay-phone, and much to my chagrin, found that it did not accept dollars. Fifty cents required, said the instructions quite clearly. Dismissing all thoughts of singing *insert random Fifty Cent song*, I walked up to this sweet looking lady, and said in my most I-am-a-well-mannered-boy voice (while waving a dollar in front of her face),

"Excuse me ... I need to make a call, and I don't have any coins. Could you give me change for a dollar?"

"Oh of course ... *rummage rummage* ... there you are", saying which she dropped four quarters in my hand and smiled, clearly making a mental note to go home and put a check in her "Good Deed for the Day" book.

"Errr .. no, I need 50 cents", I clarified.

Puzzled, she remarked that that's exactly what she had given me.

"NO", I obstinately spat back, putting on a tone of voice as if I was talking to a 3 year old who was being difficult on purpose, "I NEED to make a phone-call ... for which I NEED 50 cents ... THIS will NOT do" ... and slyly moved my eyes towards her purse, hoping to catch a glimpse of, and snatch back, my dollar from this conniving crook.

The sweet (?) lady's eyes narrowed, her lips thinned, and out came a sound that would have frozen Mt. Vesuvius ...

"In THIS country, we do NOT have 50 cent pieces. Two quarters will do ... insert them in the slot one at a time".

At this point, I think Mizz Freeze turned around and marched away, clearly thinking to herself "Damn FOB ", or more likely, "Damn third World-er" ... but I cannot be sure, for my eyes had floated away the moment my body turned to water.

Current Score: FOBbiness 1, Coolth 0

Thursday, April 5, 2007

Hey Ho Hey Hee, Is that the first wrinkle I see ?

So there I was, walking out of the mandir, feeling all aashirwaad-ed and stuff, when I saw this snotty nosed street urchin (ok fine ... someone's jaahil kid) trying to push open the door (there was a sign on the door that said "Pull"). Since this is the USofA and you can get sued faster than Paris Hilton gets an STD, I put on my most beatific smile and waited for his folks to come and put him on a leash; while the kid looked at me with googl-y* eyes.

Well, over trotted his dad, some guy of about 35 or so, gave me an artificial smile (which I promptly returned ... I'm very American!), then looked at his fastest sperm all grown up; and said "Sonu (or some such random-ass name), chalo hato ... ankal ko jaaney do" !!

Ankal ?!? Ankal ?? ... OMG ... UNCLE !!!!!

Thankfully I had already gobbled up the prasad, nahi toh I am sure it would have fallen out of my hands. Did he just call me a frikkin uncle? I felt like retorting "Uncle hoga tera baap", but then I realized ki uska baap ko toh would in fact be an uncle. So I just gave both him and that little imp an extremely venomous look, pulled open the door (Sonu leapt out of the way .. damn agile child) and stormed out, trying to focus my mind on the fact that not one single haddi in my legs kadko-s when I get out of bed every morning.

I then walked over to my car, assuring myself that I had many jawaani ke saal still left in me. However, for some reason, on the way back, I stopped at the Indian store, and picked up a pack of Black Rose Kaali Mehendi**.

* Googl-y -adj. extremely nosy and inquisitive, like the search engine.
** That's a lie - made up to make myself feel better, and to add a touch of humour - I'm not going grey, I'm going bald. Yes, I know it didn't make anyone laugh ... it didn't make me feel better either !!

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

Thank You Sorry not allowed

I don't know why, but I think "Maine Pyaar Kiya" is one of the best movies ever. There could be a multitude of reasons, outlining which is a whole post (or two) in itself, but some of them could be

- The pigeon nest on Bhagyashree's head
- Aaaaeee luuuuvv yooooo ...
- That vamp aunty ... jiskey chalney pe there used to be a snake-charmer ki been ki awaaz
- The usools of dosti
- Lajjo-ji
- The damn kabootar ... listed on IMDB as "Prince" !!!

Now my pal Mizz Half-o (par kya ek ladka aur ek ladki sirf dost ho saktey hain ?!?! Dharam-sankat !!) and I have beeen waiting for a loooong time to get drunk and analyze the crap out of the movie, but there is one particular question I simply must put down here, lest I forget ...

When Monish Behl's plan to looto Bhagya's izzat (*sidenote* - what the fuck is going on in the background of that scene - with those two curly haired people in that other room with the glass windows kinda sorta stripping each other to some music that goes "Love me ... yeah yeah ... hold me .. yeah yeah" ... was that supposed to be raunchy or what? *end sidenote*) is foiled by a punch wielding Sallu (heyhey), and a frustu Monish says that Bhagya is a total tramp, why does she prove his point by going down on Sallu ???

Enjoy the scene(s)
here.

Tuesday, April 3, 2007

Arey aap ... aiye aiye !!

Does it ever really happen that the only demand the ladka vaalas have is that a foul looking-smelling gutkha sort of thing should be forced into the mouths of all baraatis as they enter the pandaal ? What would that scene be like ?

Random guest: Mubaarak ho jee, aaj toh aapki beti kiiiieeeeee ... *spoonful of pan parag stuffed into mouth*
Welcome committee relative: Namashkaar ji namashkaar, SO kind of you to come ... laaiye I will take the envelope ... spittoon is to your left.

I toh have never gone to such a shaadi !! Pliss to be calling me if you have such stuff happening at yours.