Furious

Just when I thought I had overcome the cricket obsessive maniacal behavior, today's match just brought it all back. At a juncture in life when I thought i have matured, become more responsible, forward looking and tolerant, all it took was an insignificant Asia Cup match to prove me all wrong.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Another realization..FB is NOT a place for venting emotions. Too much garbage, sorry, friends.

So FUCK YOU SACHIN..and people who have followed this blog know, I am NOT a turncoat. It has been fuck you sachin forever.

The Original Comfortably Numb

Maein Zindagi Ka Saath Nibhata Chala Gaya
Har Fikar Ko Dhuen Mein Udata Chala Gaya

Barbadiyon Ka Shok Manana Fizul Tha
Barbadiyon Ka Jashan Manata Chala Gaya
Har Fikar Ko Dhuen Mein Uda

Jo Mil Gaya Usi Ko Muqaddar Samajh Liya
Jo Kho Gaya Maein Usko Bhulata Chala Gaya
Har Fikar Ko Dhuen Mein Uda

Gham Aur Khushi Mein Farq Na Mehsoos Ho Jahan
Maein Dil Ko Us Muqaam Pe Laata Chala Gaya
Har Fikar Ko Dhuen Mein Uda

Armageddon

The end of times is finally here. The signs were there for some time now. But for me something I saw yesterday was the last straw.

Dogs have been my closest friends ever since I can remember. And something 'doggy' in me has always ensured that irrespective of the place, breed, training, mood or weather I have made licking acquaintances with most of the dogs in any locality I have lived in so far. Without sounding too cliche-ed or melodramatic, I have found solace on many a dark, horrible and gut wrenching day in the unfailing greeting and unconditional display of love.

So it came as a huge shock a couple of months back when I first saw 4 semi domesticated strays in our locality playfully catch and kill a pigeon. And then 3 others somewhere else actually killed and ate one in front of me. And today i saw a couple of them fighting over the body of a dead puppy...playfully tearing it apart.

Something is going very wrong somewhere. And if you, like me, have known and loved dogs, then you would start getting scared as well.

I had always heard of the term 'its a dog eat dog world' but had never taken it literally, the thought having never ever crossed my mind. Is it the beginning of the end then?

The poor poor Pakis!!!

Oh sorry! Is that a deragatory term? I didnt know that! Dumb politically incorrect bigot that I am, questioning communal countries and breeders of jehadis (shudder, will there be a fatwa now against me? will my pauwa bar be blown apart by a teenage suicide bomber?).

Its not like the pakis (oops soory again)are racist or anything right? Because in THAT case there would have been no noise on their exclusion. After all, a team like South Africa, who had 7 world class players in their ranks, could be banned for 22 years because their government was racist. But who cares about a thousand odd bloody indians killed in paki instigated terror strikes? At least the apartheid south africans were just killing a bunch of faceless blacks. Its not like they were a crucial factor against the 'war against terror' in the 'axis of evil'!

At the end of the day, a big FUCK YOU to the politicos - none of whom have so far had the balls to say yes it was deliberate. To the media (as usual, since the post is in this blog) for gleefully watching from the sidelines and not asking a single straight question. To all the psuedu armchair cricket experts, bemoaning the loss of the world champion side, in a format like T20 where the world champions of one day can lose to their domestic help team the next.

I think the pakis deserve us as their neighbors.

The revenge

Have you noticed the fact that the last 3 epidemics were caused by animals we usually slaughter and eat. And maybe they are getting back at us?

Taking this one step further, i investigated the names of swine flu victims and guess what? No Muslims there.

Research is on mad cow and chickengunia.

Will keep u posted.

PS: inspired by Steven Levitt who has made some amazing correlations just by crunching numbers.

The Shuv Equilibrium

Movie buffs and economists know of the Nash Equilibrium right? Well, here's one from me for addicts and romantics, preferably separate individuals close to each other. The Shuv Addiction Disaster Prevention Equilibrium states:

Promise to quit the addiction the day the other person gets married.
This way, the game always has ONE winner.

Dont need the Nobel, a bottle will do.

Quote of the day

'Airport me visibility kaisa hai deepak?'

'Bohut hi zyada low visibility hai'.

Jai ho jai ho! Indian news channels ki jai ho!!

A new beginning

Now that i am generally happy about my personal and professional life, its time i channelised my omnipresent cribs against somebody. Today's budget gave me enough material to start a new series on this dead blog (i am actually paying my driver these days to hit the site once in a while)..

So here goes..

From tomorrow..its 'CRIB TARGET OF THE DAY'...a lucky guy in the morning newspaper will get it from me every morning..and i will do it like taking quinine(sp?) in malaria..no creative bullshit here..just meeting the target.

SO..if u guys want to join my driver..meet me here.

Ghetu: i am open to syndication negotioations.

More more more!!

Hail blogging!!

By now hopefully all of you are glued to this genius. If you are not, please start immediately. Please navigate so that you start at the beginning and then move forward.

After ages, finally here is a desi who has a killing wit combined with a vivid imagination. And he has captured the imagination of blogsphere. Combine that being the guy who has made SRFK forget to shave his white stubble before appearing on television..well i think i have become a lifelong fan.

And if you want the cynical sign off..here's the cloud behind the silver lining. A guy who has sent cricket and bollywood (yes, bollywood AB) into a frigging tizzy deserved to be rewarded hugely. But those doors are closed to this poor bloke. In order to earn money he has to divulge who he is so sponsors can pay him. If he does that he will no longer be in a position to be privy to any of the inner gossip.

Sad for him. But for us, I wish he would go on forever!!

A Spooky Tale

KNOCK KNOCK

Who's there?

Death.

What do you want?

What the fuck do you think? I have come to take you.

Where?

What are you? The dumbest motherfucker in the world or something? I have come for you..your time is up.

No.

What? What the fuck do you mean no? You think you have a bloody choice or something?

No..i meant i am not the dumbest motherfucker..in fact i am not a motherfucker even.

DEATH GROANS Let me try and explain this to you fuckface. You are about to have a heart attack. And that will be the end of you. Then we will go together to the Other Side.

Why?

WHAAT? Because I say so dickhead..now get the fuck up and get ready for that attack. What are you doing?

Pudin Hara..its good for acidity..just had some chest pain..must have been the vada pav i had in the evening. So what were you saying?

EVIL LAUGHTER Thats not acidity you dung brain..Prepare for the end!

Wait...LOUD BURP Aaah! That was better..Oh sorry..excuse me. You were saying?

Enough!! Its 9:15. Time up stink face. Let's go.

Lets go lets go..so much in hurry all the time..one of these days you will get a heart attack..ok baba ok..i will come where you want to take me..i know what this is..must be those hidden camera programs..but i am too smart for you. Wait!! just let me watch the news headlines for a minute. Ok?

DEATH SIGHS AND SITS DOWN. MAN TURNS ON TV AND STARTS FLIPPING THROUGH THE CHANNELS ONE BY ONE..DEATH'S FACE TAKES ON A GREENISH TINGE

No..no!! Stop that! How can you watch that? Please..for satan's sake! Please!

Huh! What happened? Some new joke? Haha.

No no no..please! I will leave! If this doesnt kill you I dont stand a chance!

Leave? Are you crazy! Just wait for the next program! It will blow you mind!

DEATH CONTINUES WATCHING AND SUDDENLY THERE IS A LOUD BANG AND HIS HEAD EXPLODES. A PUFF OF SMOKE AND HE IS GONE

Strange fellow. But good special effects. I wonder which channel it will come on.

MAN CONTINUES FLIPPING CHANNELS

Thoughts on piracy

You will all realise that this is prompted by today's news item that a new legislation has been approved in Maharashtra to prosecute sellers as well as buyers of pirated content. And that Mr Karan Johar has opined that the film industry is suffering huge losses due to this menace. However, please believe me when I say that this has been something I wanted to write about since I started downloading music about 10 years back.

Now, before you start hammering on your keyboards writing crap like 'stealing is stealing, whether its a car or a movie' and all such nonsense drilled into your brains by the owners of content - PLEASE! Lets leave the morality part out of this discussion. Piracy is banned by 'LAW' not by 'GOD'. A very interesting angle was presented in 'The Reader' where a lawyer argues for a Nazi camp gaurd saying that she was only following what was the law at that point in time. No Vedas say piracy is a crime. So all our Vedas and epics were copied and read out in festivals and ceremonies and none of the rishi-s and muni-s earned a single red cent out of the deal. If Mr Johar had written the Mahabharata...well that would have been a different story right?

Anyway, so leaving out the moral and legal aspect of the discussion here are a few additional laws I would like to be implemented along with the anti piracy crackdown laws:

1) Arrest all directors, producers, writers, music directors and lyricists for copying any idea or content without acknowledging and paying the source.

2) Declare all earnings and let the government do Tax Deduction at Source.

3) Mandate part of the money earned goes back into the industry. So music labels should produce x number of new artists per year, film producers should open y number of acting schools etc etc.

4) Provide money back facility to the consumer. If the viewer/listener feels that shit is being dished out, he returns the shit and gets his money back.

5) Provide breakup and pricing justification to a central board or commitee to explain why a particular DVD costs Rs 500 in some label and Rs 29 in another label after 3 months.

Into this land of freedom let my country awake.

Bravo Mr Ranatunga!!

Lanka Paki bhai bhai!!! Down with BCCI and down with big brother India!!!!

So when India pulls out of the Paki tour post the Mumbai incident, Mr Ranatunga steps in as the concerned brother and long suffering empathiser. The heavens open and petals shower on him and a voice assures him of an ICC position in the near future! Shame on you India!!

Well..screw you brother. I sincerely wish you were on that fucking bus in Lahore today.

And it probably also lays to rest an age old debate about whether cricket administrators should be ex cricketers or not. As Mr Gavaskar had done his share in his ICC stint, I will now rest my case.

Yawndog Millionaire

Firstly, since I haven’t seen any of the other nominated movies, I wont comment on whether or not the movie deserved 8 oscars. Maybe the other ones were equally bad or worse. Maybe it's post Obama America trying to make amends for the last couple of decades of self-obsession and self-righteousness by acknowledging that non Americans also belong to the human race. Maybe it's all these and other factors combining in the ridiculous way fate sometimes has of turning things on it's head.

So, lets discuss the movie itself. It's not even good, forget great. The screenplay has gaping holes, the storyline is ridiculous, the performances are extremely ordinary, the script is juvenile, the cinematography is as good as what we see in most hindi movies these days and the direction is average. Rehman is good, but way way short of his best (but I guess even that is good enough for the Oscars so that’s all right). And of course it has the following scene:

Poor Boy Fucked by Fate (PBFF) working as guide to American Tourist With Golden Heart (ATGH) is caught stealing and is thrashed by Insensitive Indian Goon (IIG).

PBFF while getting belted tells ATGH – ‘see..this is the real India’.

ATGH stops IIG, scolds him, hands PBFF a C note and tells him ‘this is the real America’.

Amazing!! Real goose bump and lumpy throat stuff right?

And the reaction!! Funniest thing yesterday was how both the British and Indian media were going bonkers that ‘their movie’ had won. And there were celebrations in the Bandra slums and in Pali Hill bungalows. At the end of the day, the hype is all about Bollywood. This entire ‘spontaenous eruption of joy’ has been carefully choreographed since the BAFTA nominations. So, while the movie ran to empty theatres across Mumbai, the film fraternity came out with media bytes blazing – no doubt mentally rearranging their dates to accommodate Hollywood directors they think would be lining up after this phenomenon.

Was the reaction similar when Pt Ravi Shankar or Pt Zakir Hussain got the Grammy? Or when Ray (who???) won the Oscar?

As Borat would say…’Naaaaat!!!’.

Bloody us

Before the tirade starts a word of thanks to all my pompous, self-obsessed countrymen. For it was them that had started me blogging when i had felt the urge to express my frustration and anger against them. Then over the years my friends and constant readers (god bless each and every one of them) convinced me that i had 'talent'...with the obvious outcome being i stopped writing those posts and concentrated on compositions full of samples of my 'talent'...with the expected outcome that this blog averages 4 posts a year.

BUT NOT ANY MORE. 'I can see clearly now the rain's gone' as Mr Whittaker had sung. 'I have seen the light' as Buddha said. And so here goes.

Huge hoohah in India with 2 issues - Sachin not figuring in ICC top 20 list of test batsmen and Mr Amitabh F Bachan expressing his disgust at Slumdog Millionaire showing poverty in India.

A big FUCK YOU to all of you.

New story idea

Her daughter was on the phone again. She had that ghastly expression on her face, one that bordered between terror and ecstasy, if there could be a border between these two emotions. She ran towards her and took her in her arms.

'Who is it darling', she whispered in her ear.

'Its mommy', she said.

With trembling hands she took the phone and said 'hallo??'

A woman cackled wildly on the phone and disconnected the line.

...and after it all

there will be a picture in the front pages of the dailies tomorrow of a local train packed like sardines with smiling commuters and the headlines will scream
THE SPIRIT OF MUMBAI!!!

The last hurrah!

Lottery tickets!! That's it! He shot up in a flash. Now how the hell didnt it occur to him before? It was just 10 bucks a day. And he could cut down a pack of smokes a day for that. He knew he could do it. Initially, he had thought that moving from Marlboros to Pall Malls will be difficult. But he was used to it by now. Used to a lot of changes really. Used to moving from city to city looking for jobs. Used to staying unwelcome at friends' houses and convincing himself that they actually liked to have him stay with them for a couple of months. Used to logging in everyday to the zillion job sites and not finding anything. Used to not letting the panic and pleading come into his tone when he called ex colleagues and asked them if there were any openings. Used to the resigned acceptance of his family when he told them he was on the verge of getting something. Used to the terror stalking him every night when it seemed the tunnel had no light at its end and he would be stuck in the darkness forever.

When he bought the ticket he KNEW. He had gone for the state lottery. And the state wont cheat him. And it came as no surprise when he got the call from New York saying he had cracked the jackpot. 150 million dollars. 150 million roads to redemption. A thousand million dreams waiting to be fulfilled. Goodbye frustration. Goodbye abuse. Goodbye going to sleep and not sleeping. Hallo life.

Before entering the building he rechecked the address. As he entered the foyer he looked at the clock in the lobby. It was 8:15 AM, September 11, 2001. He would remember this date forever. He got into the elevator and pressed the button for the 98th floor.

The true story behind the madness of Dr X

The experiments were over. Mice, guinee pigs, chimps had all responded as they were supposed to. His lifetime's efforts, sacrifices and back breaking work had come to an end. And tomorrow he would be the most controversial man in the history of mankind.

He would be revered by 2 billion people and vilified by the other 2. But in the end, he was sure they will all pay homage to him. Because he had discovered the elixir of true happiness. And no one who was happy would be able to deny the fact when it will be in front of everyone to see. In one swipe, 90% of global problems will be gone. For he had discovered the ultimate pill. And it was called Manlinex.

The fundamentals behind this were always simple and for everyone to see - increase of testosterone would lead to male symptoms. The challenges were dual - how to restrict the symptoms to only affect behavior and attitudes, rather than having physical effects. And the second was how to achieve all this through a single dose achieved by a single pill (that can be administered surreptitously to an unwilling patient), rather than a long drawn out clinical process. And that was what all these years of research was about. And he was ready for the first human test case.

Everything was in place when his wife returned from work that night. The mood lighting, the soft music, the diamond bracelet and the glass of wine with the dissolved pill. He had absolutely no doubts that the pill would work and he was not wrong. The night was probably his best with his wife - where they polished off the wine and migrated to whiskey, and Richard Chamberlain gave way to Led Zep, and the living room was strewed with empty pizza boxes and cigerette ash, and the sex was uninhibited and raunchy and physical.

After it all, he laid a content and happy man. Not only for himself, for the incredible success, adulation and money he will get, but also for the millions worldwide who will live happier lives.

He felt his wife move beside him. He sat up and saw her getting ready to go out. Rubbing sleep from his eyes he asked 'Where are you going? Its almost midnight!'.

'I will be out with a few friends..will be late. You lock the door behind me', she said as she sailed out into the night.

Sometimes...a writer's block is good

Its cold here in the city
It always seems that way
And Ive been thinking about you almost everyday
Thinking about the good times
Thinking about the rain
Thinking about how bad it feels alone again

Im sorry for the way things are in china
Im sorry things aint what they used to be
But more than anything else
Im sorry for myself
cause youre not here with me

Our friends ask all about you
I say youre doing fine
And I expect to hear from you almost anytime
But they all know Im crying
I cant sleep at night
They all know Im dying down deep inside

Im sorry for all the lies I told you
Im sorry for the things I didnt say
But more than anything else
Im sorry for myself
I cant believe you went away

Im sorry if I took some things for granted
Im sorry for the chains I put on you
But more than anything else
Im sorry for myself
For living without you

Art!

Rant

A lot has been written on this blog about the state of Indian television. Last week I came across something that just took the cake. It was a hindi music channel that had a scrolling bar with something called 'Loveguru' where one was supposed to sms a couple's name to a specific number and get back a 'love percentage' that will tell them the chances of their relationship clicking. I sms-ed 'OSAMA' and the name of someone i used to know..got 100% as the chances of success. There were poor blokes however who got percentages of low 50-s and 60-s and i wondered how many have broken up relationships with seeds of doubts planted by this crap.

One can of course argue that its just trivial time pass and if someone is so insecure about their partners that they let a scrolling bar control their lives then they deserve what they get. I tend to agree as well..but thats not the point. Its the desperation for 'creative ideas' we keep on seeing on Indian television that never ceases to amaze me.

Add dollops of attitude on top of that and the impression these guys give of being the protectors of human rights, peace and democracy in the world and the combination always makes me want to grab the nearest heavy object and smash the screen in.

A poem for my son

What would I do,
If you became a pitiable drunk?
Wallowing in your self pity,
Meandering meaninglessly through life;
And I find you sitting alone somewhere,
Surrounded by the tattered fragments of your ruined life,
Putting up a brave front
And smiling that heart wrenching smile;
And saying 'It was all worth it,
and I would do it again'.

Would I think of my life?
How it was when I was his age?
How it still is,
Now that the excuses are gone,
The parameters have changed,
The paradigms have shifted,
But my behavior hasn't.

Where everything could be justified,
Because within my heart i knew i was always right;
And the heart never lies,
And the heart beats for you night and day,
And you need to save your heart from all that pain,
And you can do that all by running away.

IF HE CAN DO IT..........

Then so can I.

Goodbye

The past 4 years of blogging has been a roller coaster ride. Had a lot of fun, a lot of fights, met some great people and had some serious 'time-pass'. But ultimately, had to pay a heavy price. No complaints though, nothing in this world is free.

So this the official 'closure post'. Will keep on visiting your blogs..and you all know how to contact me in case my wisdom is required to guide you through the troubled waters of your lives.

Goodbye. And good luck.

Ode to an umbrella

It shelters you from the searing heat
Protects you from the torrential rain
And when the weather is fine
And its lovely to walk
You push it to some damp dark corner
And forget all about it.

But there will come some day
When you will be out in a storm
And you would reach out for one
To find its no longer there
You had neglected it for far too long
And someone has taken it away.

So, take care of that umbrella.

Did that make any sense?

Dont fight with friends

It was a typical new year eve morning. And the preparations were on for the night. As usual, the debate was about the break up of the six odd litres of booze that would be required. Meticulous planning, disaster recovery, buffer analysis and accurate estimation techniques are all required in this process. So obviously, there were disagreements. And one such disagreement reached ugly proportions and he stormed out of the house. As a parting shot, he told them all to go to hell and that he would celebrate my new year elsewhere.

There was another party on that he didnt particularly want to go to. He hardly knew anyone there and it was a stuffy high brow crowd. But there was nowhere else to go, and his ego was too big for him to call his friends and tell them that he was coming. So he went.

He suffered alone in that big crowd that night. Everyone else seemed to know each other and he was standing in a corner nursing his drink and cursing his luck. He saw her then in another corner of the room and she seemed to be in the same kind of situation. She was the most beautiful woman he had seen in his life. And she was alone like him in this big bad world. And he fell in love.

Today it was exactly 10 years to the day. And there was no particular reason why his mind went back to that night when he had met his wife for the first time. Except the lawyer's letter lying on the table asking him to meet for a consultation regarding the divorce proceedings. And that his mother was in the nursing home in shock. And that his son had stopped talking since being explained what it meant.

He slit his wrists that night. And while he watched his blood lazily snaking down the water in the bucket he thought of how things could have been different. But mostly, he thought of the friends he had fought with that night.

City of Joy!!!!

This image is for all those who commented on gypsy's post .

Chak De!!!!!!!!!!

INDIA GHORE PE BAAKI SUB LOURE PE!!!!!!!!

Duty

Finally things were in place. After months of preparation, tension, uncertainties and fear, he finally got the green signal from the Major in the hastily called meeting today. He had been unable to control himself then. And as he wept, and the Major took him in his arms, and his comrades all stood up as one and cheered for him, he knew that his life was fulfilled.

When he got back home and watched them huddled around the television watching the usual junk, THEIR junk, but he didn't shout at them or told them to switch the damned thing off as was his usual practise. Instead, he made space for himself and pulled his son on to his lap. It would be the last time he would do so. He looked across to his wife and gave her a wink and it was the first time he had done so. And when his mother reached across and caressed his hair, he allowed her to continue, and it was the first time in years that he had allowed her any such public display of affection towards him. And he thought of what might have been, how he could have lived like a human being instead of like a hunted animal, and how THEY had not made it possible for him and for thousands others like him, and his resolve strengthened.

And then he looked across to his father and saw that he was crying as he was watching the TV, one of THEIR idiotic talent shows. And he looked at the screen and saw his brother singing on a stage, and all the people watching him cheering him and loving him, then people rushing onstage to hug him and everyone spreading the message of love and brotherhood, about peace and harmony, about history and roots, about a future of togetherness..and he lurched out of the room.

He triggered the bomb at precisely 10:45 AM in the crowded market place. And in the split second before he was torn apart by the force of the blast, he thought of his grandfather's village in Punjab, and he cried.

Red

The sheer inefficiency of people around the workplace is starting to get to me. I mean, why can't we be more professional? Why can't people raise their hands and take ownership, rather than always looking for excuses not to work?

I mean, do they themselves realise how they are wasting the best years of their professional lives? Or do they actually think that they are smart because they are getting away without doing any work?

Blue

Desperately, devastatingly, dangerously blue since morning. Don't know what the fuck brought in on.

Need to do something to come out of it. What do you usually do?

The song is over

'This song is over
I'm left with only tears
I must remember
Even if it takes a million years'.........The Who

If I could have asked for 3 boons, one of them definitely would have been for a chance to be a teenager in London in the swinging 60-s. I mean, can you imagine yourself in those glorious years of the british invasion? Being one of the first few people to hear bands like Beatles, The Who, Floyd, Kinks, Stones, Derek and Dominoes, Ramones etc etc etc, collecting bootlegs, queueing up in underground pubs to watch them play live, the psychedelic shows, the guitar smashing concerts, the LSD, the flower girls..

And can you imagine the devastation on hearing about the mindless deaths and breakdowns? Duan Alman, Hendrix, Morrison, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Lenon, Bonham, Barrett, the Lynrd Skynrds, Buddy...again the list is endless.

My last trip to Calcutta put me through a similar experience. A couple of musicians I knew have died. Bands I used to love have broken up. Some have given up the gig scene altogether. And the places where I used to be on first name terms with most of the people are now full of unknown faces.

And I felt old.

'The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older,
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death'.

And it wasn't a nice feeling. I think its not always a good idea to revisit the places from your past.

A point to prove

A lot of technical stuff that had to removed because it got patented and hence not available for public viewing.

Thou shalt not cheat

We heard the key in the lock just as we were getting under the covers. White faced, I scrambled for my clothes and shoes lying scattered around the room while she made a dash for the door.

'I am home', the sonofabitch called out, from the living room, taking his shoes off.

'Under the bed' the bitch hissed at me, wrapping a towel around her before going out to meet him halfway. I had no options left. The bastard was bigger than me, and on top of that he was some bloody treasurer or something in the apartment complex. I knew what would happen if I got caught. At best, they would thrash the shit out of me and parade me around naked on the Gurgaon streets. At worst, they would call Aajtak or some such nosey parker motherfucking channel and blacken my face live on national TV. So..I dived under the bed.

I hate being under beds. Even when I was kid playing hide and seek I didnt like them. I hated cobwebs, cockroaches and forgotten junk. I hated the claustrophobia. I hated the smell. And in this case, I hated having to lie there hearing the groans and pants.

Because, nympho bloody bitch that she is, the escapade had made her horny. I saw their legs as they entered the room and then predictably, saw the towel slide to the floor. She giggled playfully and I saw one of her legs start rubbing the bastards pants.

'I am tired darling', he said, and I mentally cheered. But..the bitch was not to be denied so easily.

'A quick one sweetheart', she whispered, guiding him towards the bed, 'I need it badly'.

'You always do', he protested, as I rooted for him to stand up and be a man, 'but you also have to realise I just back from work'. But it was too late. As their weight settled on the bed, I watched aghast as one by one his discarded clothes started floating down on the floor. Soon, she was moaning and he was groaning, and then the bed was shaking and creaking and it started becoming so fucking unbearable that I started toying with the idea of trying to sneak out.

But I had underestimated the bitch. Just when her frenzied screams gave me a glimmer of hope that she was getting done, a hand snaked down and grasped my privates. I mean it was bloody unbelievable! The bloody woman was trying to fondle me while she was bloody shagging her hubby and I was just supposed to bloody lay down and bloody take it? Who the bloody hell did she bloody think I was? But my bloody dick has a mind of its own. I mean it actually quite exciting and all, and soon it was too late to resist and I gave in.

We all were done soon after that. I mean this communal orgasm was pretty ridiculous! It would have pretty funny if I had seen it on TV but at that time I wasnt laughing. She kissed him and said 'That was the best darling. Wait for me while I take a shower...and then we can do it again'.

We both groaned. She went in.

'You can come out now', he said, and I almost had a cardiac. I tried to make myself believe that he was talking to his wife, but I knew.

'Come out unless you want me to call the security', he said again without raising his voice, and I knew I was finished. With as much dignity as I could muster, I came out bare arsed and stood in front of him like a bloody kid caught stealing candy.

He measured me up very slowly and thoroughly and gave a satisifed grunt.

'You'll do', he said, lighting a cigeratte. 'From now on come here every Saturday afternoon..2-4PM..else your wife gets an anonymous call'.

I was hugely relieved. Fucker was a pervert who got off watching his wife getting screwed!! This was turning into something very good, I mentally gloated. Grinning I started putting my clothes on till I remembered something.

'Boss you forgot something..she goes to her kitty party thingies on Saturdays', I reminded him kindly.

'I know. You will come for me. Why do you think she sleeps around like a slut? I dont like women. But you will keep both of us happy'.

Overheard

'That's too big', she said, with rounded eyes.

'Try it', he said, with a smile, 'and you wont regret it'.

'But its too much for me. What can I possibly do with one that big?', she asked in anguish, as if its been shoved down her throat.

'Its not always that you will come across one this big', he said, obscenely caressing and fondling it as he spoke. The woman seemed rivetted. It was as if she was hypnotised by the size and texture of it. And sure enough, as if in a daze, she reached out and grasped it and pulled it towards herself.

'How much?', she asked, as she bent down and with a long, deep breath inhaled its fragrance.

'For you, 12 rupees a kg', the sabziwala said, wrapping up the cucumber in a take away pack.

And the spell broke.

Of crabs and humans

There was this joke that was going around when we were in school..about an 'international crab festival' where nations all over the world were participating in a competition to prove whose crabs were the best..and they were all travelling on the same airline, and each country had their own basket containing their best crabs, and then a long detailed description of the lengths each of the 'advanced' countries have gone to to make sure that their prize crabs don't escape, and then obviously there was this indian basket which was left lying totally unsecured, and when asked the indian delegation says 'dont worry, they wont escape..whenever one tries to climb out the others pull him right back in'.

Well I am sure u have heard some variation or the other of this story. But this is something I have been facing on and off for the last 6 years or so. Since 6 years, I have been living a so-called 'lonely' life. Staying 'away' from my family, commuting to meet my wife and kid, returning to an empty bed after work and whatever after office activity i choose to pursue, taking extended weekends to visit my family whenever I feel like, deciding to visit relatives and friends on the spur of a moment if I feel like it irrespective of their location in India, going out on family trips to some goddamn weekend break place if the city is getting too claustrophobic..i don't know, generally sleeping well.

But..

Some people are so concerned about me. Be it some childhood friends, some casual aquantainces, some faceless meddlers...they are convinced that I am miserable. 'Some' is the operative word here. Anyone who knows me well is happy for me. Because I won't trade my life (at the moment) for anyone else's.

So all you people..thanks for your concerns..but no thanks. Get a life and let me live mine.

I refuse

After long consideration, I have decided that I can't marry you. Probably the decision is a mistake. After all, we are so much alike. Both of us respect the other's space, we both love the same things, have the same attitudes towards life. Both of us get frustrated because of the same reasons, both of us come out of our darkest depressions through the same tonic. I love your eyes and your impish smile. I would have loved to grow old with you.

But.

I cant. And the reasons are obvious.

So, I refuse.

And its a good thing that I have never expressed my feelings to you. And that you don't have a clue. And that this entire tragedy resides entirely in my imagination.

Communal living

We have all grown up in a so called 'middle class' upbringing. Joint families, jurassic age neighbors, teachers who have taught your uncles, knowing the number of wrinkles of everyone in your neighborhood..the works. And that's supposed to be Utopia.

Maybe it is. Maybe not. That's not the point. The point is, Hollywood (and then automatically Bollywood and then any wood) INSISTS that 'the golden age has gone'. The age of communal living, sharing, helping, adjusting, frustating...i dont know, i have run out of 'ing' words. But that's maybe because i have never lived in a chawl, or a 'para' or whatever vernacular a commune goes by.

AAAAH! The concept of the chawl! Where else will one find a potboiler such as a chawl, where everyone's worry is everone else's and every joy, sorrow, rage, madness is distributed and broken down in tiny little pieces, so that finally there is nothing left, apart from the numbing dreary meaningless existence where nothing really matters, where it all comes down to the lowest common denominator, who wakes up to fill the buckets, who gets the first shot at the virgin loo, who gets the first steaming loaf of bread from the yawning delivery boy. But then, at the end of day, if u havent done anything of the above, have failed to achieve each and every one of these magnificient tasks, well..the chawl is waiting. You go back, and find other people who are at your level, failures in all that they have attempted today, and cosy, comfortable and cushioned in the communal feeling..that fraternity of failed brotherhood, a brotherhood where everyone is happy, and no one dares voice their deepest, darkest insecurities, where brothers in arms perish together, happy for the warmth, succumbing to that numbing nothingness.

So..which 'chawl' are you in?

What some women don't understand

is that, for some of us enlightened ones, sex is a form of worship. When we say we want to have sex, and the bill has not yet arrived, it doesn't mean we are desperate, or deprived or perverted or chauvanists or anything. Its just that we are so in the throes of this deep religious awe, surrender and worship, that our expressions of submission and supplication need outlets..whatever the cost or the outlet.

One can't be hyocrite when it comes to religion, can one?

Defining a movie experience

I am no longer a movie buff. Over the weekend I watched Postman Always Rings Twice, Taxi Driver, Streetcar Called Desire, Chariots of Fire and The Graduate. And then I switched to television and watched KANK..and I watched it right upto its ridiculous ending..and I didnt switch channels in the breaks..and I related to a lot of situations in the movie..and kind of forgot how Taxi Driver ended..

So the question that popped up was...what defines a movie experience? When does bad cinema capture one's imagination? Does a chilling movie like Taxi Driver not stay with you because you do not relate to it? And by the same logic, does a rank bad movie like KANK grip me enough to make me sit through it because i can identify with the characters?

I dont know. I guess I should stick to No Entry in the future.

Me and my bloody luck

'What's your name', she asked me, moving her chair closer to mine.

'Neil', I said, indicating the empty chair next to mine.

'You bastard', she said, and walked away in a huff.

Weeks later, I found out that she thought i was asking her to kneel.

Diaries

Man

The last few days have been such that I have decided to write things down. I am not much of a writer, but I just want to record the events for future reference. You see, I have this nagging suspicion that things are not as they appear, that everyone around me is wearing a mask, watching my every move, uttering memorized lines while speaking to me. You may think I am being paranoid, but let me start at the beginning and let you be the judge.

Last Sunday I woke up without a memory. I didnt know who I was, where I was, what I was. I dialled random numbers from my cell phone, different people called me different names and spoke to me in different languages and I didnt have the guts to ask them how I knew them or how they knew me. I spent the entire day in terrified loneliness, totally helpless and desperate with no idea what the next step should be. It was then that the doorbell rang and I opened the door to find a beautiful woman standing there..and when I looked into her eyes I knew that she was my lover. It all came out then, my fear and my helplessness, and she took me in her arms and I knew things will be all right. We discussed our future and she told me not to worry, that we should let time heal things. She has moved in with me and in the evenings, we lie in each other's arms and she tells me how I used to love her, about the wonderful moments we had shared, and the beautiful life that lay ahead of us. Looking into her eyes, I believe her.

Wife

That's it. Its been over a week now. No contact, no news. No responses to messages. I think I have had it. Probably its best that this ends this way. We were meandering towards nothingness and I guess its fitting that the end came as a fizzle rather than a bang. Anyway, I sincerely hope he has a happy life..and I desperately hope that I do too.

Lover

This will be the last entry before I burn the diary. All the pages filled with angst and tears after he dumped me are behind me now. I always believed that if I didnt give up hope he will come back to again some day. The months of playing 'good friends' are thankfully gone. He is now mine. Completely. And forever.

Conversations

Canteen - 10:30 AM

Girl: God I hate that slimeball! The way he looks at me makes my skin crawl man!
Boy: Yeah..he is a total frustrated arsehole yaar!
G: I mean, like, if his eyes had hands all the girls in this office will be walking aroung nude.
B: Well thats the only way he will ever be able to undress a girl anyways.
G: Doesnt the fuck realise how obvious he is? Cant he bloody make out that all girls are aware of his roaming eyes?
B: Chutiya thinks thats the way to get a response.
G: Yeah right! Like a kick to his balls.
B: Haha...be careful though! That might make him think that you want to be physical with him!
G: UGH!! Whats with guys anyway? Why the fuck do they always have to think with their dicks? Cant they fucking view women in any other position except lying under them with their thighs open?
B: Hey come on! Dont generalise man! I accept that most of the fuckers are like that. Its how they have been brought up, what company they mix in, what kind of sexual experiences (or lack of) that they had..
G: Maybe you are right..i mean i am totally comfortable with you. i just hope those fuckers learn something from u dude.
B: Yeah, well, one can only hope..shall we go?

Pub - 7:30 PM

Boy1: Abey saale aaj G se saath bohut khusur fusur kar raha tha behnchod?
Boy: Kuch nehi yaar aise hi.
B1: Shut up man..bol na behnchod kya scene hai.
B: Abey sahi maal hai baap..do teen din me aa jayegi khopchi me.
B1: Boss tu bhagwan hai.
B: Saath saath reh beta bohut kuch sikhega.

The seeds of the holocaust

It was a hot, sunny day and the streets of Munich were deserted, barring the stray dogs and puppies lolling about with their tongues out. Hienrich roamed the streets looking for his next target. The hand holding the magnifying glass was rock steady but his otherwise solemn face was flushed with anticipation, his normally cold, expressionless eyes sparkling with anticipation.

He had to be careful. The last time he was caught,his father had given him a hiding his arse still remembered. Joseph was normally a god fearing, mild man. But he was a fanatic about discipline. And Hienrich knew that he had just about reached the last few inches of the fuse that was wired to the keg of gunpowder that resided in Joseph's mind. So, he had been careful for the last few months. But today the temptation was too much.

He spotted his target soon. It was a beautiful Labrador pup, about 2 or 3 months old. And it was sleeping alone on the pavement, it's ears pricked and eyes closed. It looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, that Hienrich's heart swelled with love for the helpless creature. He took out the glass and carefully positioned it so that the sunrays focused on the delicate soft pink tissues of the inner ear. As the pup screamed out in pain he moved in for the kill, the blunt hammer halfway out of his pocket. He felt a sudden movement from behind and before he realised what happened, a hand clamped down on his shoulder and another wrenched the hammer out of his curled fingers..he turned around with a thundering heart and his worst fears came true..it was that wretched Rabbi Efrati again.

'You are sick', he said, 'and its time Joseph realised the depths of your depravity'.

He took the struggling, kicking boy to his home and when Joseph opened the door, one look at the rabbi and the hammer and the struggling boy in his hands told Joseph the entire story. He grabbed both and before the rabbi could say anything, the door slammed in his face.

'I think you and me have to talk boy', Joseph said, taking out the horsewhip from the cupboard.

Late that night, Hienrich lay face down on his cot, with his flayed back swathed in bandages and made a vow.

'I will get you, you fucking jew', Hienrich Himmler said.

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.


Poet: W.H. Auden
Kick arse rendering: John Hannah in 4 Weddings And A Funeral.

A hilarious party

One of our teams had a major software release last week. These guys had been toiling pretty hard for the last 6 months or so, fighting a hostile customer as well as coping with inter-departmental politics, but finally, the project was successfully completed and everyone was happy. So, the boss of this team decided to throw a party for his 'boys'. I had done some architectural design for this project a few months back, hence I got an invite as well.

To give you some background, this team is comprised mostly of guys fresh out of college or out barely a few months back. And let me tell you, for the new blokes, the first few 'office parties' have a lot of significance. If i try to recollect personal experiences, it used to feel like I have finally become an adult - being able to booze with a boss 15 years my senior, and being treated as an equal, irrespective of their knowledge, standing and years of experience. So, a lot of these guys were pretty excited.

We reached the place. It was a restaurant. A family one. With 4 sitter dining tables. And soft music. And NO BOOZE.

Shit I pitied these guys man! Everyone was roaming around with a dazed expression on their faces. I mean nobody had a clue! It was 7PM and the buffet was laid out. Some optimists refused to believe that there could'nt be no provision for booze, but by 8 everyone was pretty convinced. So, one by one, they shuffled towards the buffet tables and dinner started.

And mingling with them, with a kind, beatific expression of a proud patriarch, was the big boss, asking everyone to enjoy themselves to the fullest, saying that they deserved this 'treat' after the hard work they had put in. And the scream was that, this guy actually believed it himself! And you should have seen the expressions on the guys' faces man!!

Anyway, I had a great time. Set an all time personal record - had food, dessert and coffee for dinner for the first time in my 'adult' life. And being the kindly soul that I am, I have promised these guys that I would take them out next week for a booze-only party.

You guys are invited as well.

Thank you Shilpa

What would I do without Shilpa guys? You may have read this post. But today she has given me another chance to write about something important, rather than posting 'delhi jokes' and 'bullshit tags' (according to one of my ex-friend's whom i have disowned because he is the wrong finger type). So here goes..

There is a huge ruckus about Richard Gere necking with Shilpa Shetty yesterday. And why should'nt there be? We are from the land of mughal and victorian slavery. We dont have sex. Some dirty bastards wrote the fucking Kama Sutra. Their bastard cousins sculpted the Khajuraho temples. Our widows shave their heads and eat veg to make themselves unattrative to 'preying males'. Our children fill up forms where there is no space for 'mother's name'. Our father (of the nation) slept with his nieces to prove that he was above the 'weakness of the flesh'. In all his greatness he went on record saying that he failed....

But so what? We are a nation that respects women. Where our country is our mother, where the mother and sister are goddesses, where words like 'behnchod' and 'motherchod' are more reviled than 'uncivilised' or 'uneducated'. But that again is not important..

What is important is that for the last 779 years we have conquered our sexual drive. We are a nation that believes, truly madly and deeply, that sex is BAD!! Our movies show swaying flowers when couples kiss. Our heroines get slapped around by 'manly' heroes and then go home and justify the fact saying that the its the responsibility of the woman in the house to maintain peace and harmony. 2.7665% of our women achieve orgasms, 97.2335% of those who dont, have some 'problem'. We are a country where a guy indulging in a screwing spree is a stud while a girl doing the same is a slut. We are a nation of 'men'.

So Richard..lay off man. Do your shit with the Julias of the world. In our country, even the whores are virgins. If they are not, it because they had been raped by an uncle or an office boss and they have been forced into that world. You can take your charms elsewhere...'it don't impress us much'.

Jai Hind.

Another tag

You Are a Pinky

You are fiercely independent, and possibly downright weird. A great communicator, you can get along with almost anyone. You are kind and sympathetic. You support all your friends - and love them for who they are. You get along well with: The Ring Finger Stay away from: The Thumb

What Finger Are You?

Thanks Dravid

Gorged myself on movies this weekend. Here's is the list:

1) Forrest Gump
2) Breakfast at Tiffany's
3) Dumb and Dumber
4) Deer Hunter
5) Who's afraid of Virginia Wolf?
6) My Cousin Vinny
7) Gandhi
8) American Beauty

About 40 oscars all considered.

A post for Sayantani

Sayantani wants me to write something funny. Being the serious person that I am, I cant think of anything funny at the moment. So I will tell her a small story.

So what happened was that there was this family. Handsome dude, sexy wife and a smart 6 year old son. And they go to the zoo on a nippy Sunday morning and the kid has the time of his life. They come to the elephant enclosure and the father tells them to wait there while he gets something to eat.

The elephant was in heat and was standing there with a gigantic hard on. The boy spots the appendage and tugs at his mother's T shirt and asks her 'mom, mom look!! what's that coming out of the elephant's stomach?'

She looks and gets all red and tells him 'that's nothing. look at the tigers'.

'What nothing?' he asks. 'Look at that. Something is coming out of his stomach!'

'I told you its nothing', she snaps. 'Keep quiet!'

The bewildered kid decides to ask his dad. His father usually talked to him in a language he could understand. So, when the father returns with the chips and sodas, he sidles up to him and whispers 'dad! what's that?'

Dad looks and tells him 'that's the elephant's dick son'.

The kid asks 'then why was mom saying it was nothing?'

Dad says 'son..to your mom, even an elephant's dick is nothing'.

I tag you

When you are alone in the house and you take a shower, do you keep the bathroom door open?

Please let me know. Its very important.

The showdown

She was absolutely and utterly sick of him. His apathy, his callousness, his insensitivity. Sick of his posturing and his double standards, of his smug belief that she will take all the shit he can dish out, sick of his confidence that ultimately, she was a 'traditional desi girl', who would do anything but walk out on him with the kid and shatter three lives.

Civilised conversations had long since ceased. Any attempt to do so invariably degenerated into mud slinging exercises. But these days the sheer weight of cohabitation was proving to be too much for her. On one of the rear occasions when they had sat down and talked like mature people, they had decided that at least for the sake of the child, they would make a final attempt to coexist. 'Working relationships' they were called, at least according to the hollywood movies that they enjoyed watching separately. But she had never imagined that his sheer presence could be so difficult to handle. Not talking to each other could not prevent her from hearing him talking to others, and in each conversation, all that she detested about him crashed on her eardrums in unforgiving waves, choking her with the bile that welled up inside her till her whole body trembled with disgust, leaving her head throbbing with pure, white hate.

She woke up today knowing that something had changed. After ages she felt calm. She saw things in a totally different light. Nothing could justify this existence, this utter wastage of a life, this pathetic attempt to keep up appearances and in the process making things worse. There was no point in trying to enact something for a 4 year old. Soon he will be old enough to see through the facade. And by then it may be too late. She wanted out. She wanted her life back. She wanted to live for herself.

She heard him turn the key in the lock. She went out to meet him and tell him about her decision. Their eyes locked as they faced each other. He dropped his bag and ran to her and fell on his knees and hugged her waist.

'I cannot live without you. I love you. Lets start again', he said.

Thoughts on farting

There are 2 types of men in the world - those who can fart in public and those who can't. Farting, I have discovered is the greatest leveller. I have heard many uncles of extremely serious disposition farting along during serious conversations, timing the farts to coincide with the breaks in the conversation. I have heard some of my occidental colleagues in Europe and elsewhere farting to their hearts contents in meetings or in pubs (the only difference being that each fart is followed by a muttered 'excuse me').

So ok I arrived at a theory to explain this. Uncles fart because they are 'socially challenged'. Goras fart because they have confidence in their superiority.

So why can't I?

A love story

B was in love with S. And would do anything to get him. And everyone around knew that as well. And so, bastards that they were, they used to take B for a ride. They would go to B and say "S was wanting to go for the latest Amitabh flick." And B will beg them to ask S to take B along. And they will hem and haw and confer and strategise till B will tell them that there was a big treat waiting for them if they can convince S. And then they would troupe to S and beg him to take B, to somehow sit through the 3 hours for the gastronomical good of the majority. And S would go and not talk to anyone for the next 3 days.

This went on for some time. But it seemed that B wanted more. And the fates arranged for a situation where it became suddenly possible for B to have S completely. It so happened that B's parents were going on a 10 day trip to Sikkim and B had the run of the house. And so B called all S's 'friends' for lunch one day, plied them with food and begged them to convince S to spend a night there. B had some contacts in high places and promises of jobs and substantial donations for that year's pujas were hinted at. And so, they took on the love brokerage.

These guys came and it was long hard and bitter battle. S stood his ground, refusing to be pimped around but his friends were up to it. They tried ridicule (can't you handle B for one night you wimp). They tried cajoling (just a night yaar. dont do anything if you dont want to). They tried emotional blackmail (think of T yaar, he will get the job if you do this). They even tried threats (boss if you are so adamant then we have issues about your loyalty towards friends). Whatever factor it was due to, or perhaps because he was so sick of this whole thing and wanted to put an end to it all, S finally agreed.

D day came. S didn't come. A frantic B called up all his friends and asked them to find him and bring him home. B also expressed doubts about the abilty of these guys to organise the next year's pujas. If they cant convince one guy how did they think they are going to convince the people in the neighborhood to part with donations, B was heard muttering. Tempers frayed. Decisions were taken. Everyone bayed for S's blood.

When they reached his place they found a crowd outside. They pushed inside. S was hanging from the ceiling fan.

Drastic you think? You see, B was a man.

What would you rather be?

A jack-of-all-trades or a master of one? Would you rather be able to talk comfortably on issues ranging from the effect of a failed crop in Ukraine on the Dow Jones index (whatever that means) to the finer differences in guitaring styles of Jeff Beck and Peter Green? Or would you rather only participate in conversations where you know everything that is to be known on the topic so much so that when you open your mouth there is a hushed silence and everyone listens?

Let me know. Its been a dilemma for some time.

Slithering

Tried to look up the word on the net but failed to find what I was looking for. What it was supposed to mean was that you are supposed to bungee jump into a river. Went to Corbett National Park for an adventure sports outing last weekend. Stayed in tents, swam in a fast and furious river, trekked in the forest..but slithering took the cake.

There was this creaking swaying suspension bridge (that looked about a 100 years old) where we were fitted with harnesses and ropes. Then you are supposed to lean back over the water while someone holds the rope and then lets go. After a free fall of about 3 seconds you crash into the river and go under.

Absolutely amazing experience man! Try it if you get the chance.

Was this abuse?

I was all of 11 years old. I knew all about girls, had played doctor-doctor with 3 of my classmates, I had read graphic descriptions of the adult female anatomy in Nick Carter thrillers I had smuggled in from the school library. I wasn't tongue tied or intimidated by girls. I positively strutted around them. Till the time Mlle Jenette joined our school as a French teacher.

I dont why the fuck she launched into me from the first day. At first it was trivial stuff like asking me to carry her books back to the staff room. Then she started dropping me off home after school. And then asking me to stay back after school to help me with my homework. And the constant fidgeting with my uniform - adjusting my tie, tucking in my shirt, zipping up a half open fly.

And then one day, she called me to her house one hot sultry afternoon to 'amusez-vous certains' as she put it. Have some fun indeed. That afternoon finished my confidence level with the opposite sex.

Before I entered I heard her splashing in the pool. And when i reached the poolside, I saw her cutting through the water in long streaking strokes. She was a great swimmer, but that's not what I was staring at with my mouth open. It was the first time I was seeing a 2 piece bikini in real life..and Nick Carter hadn't prepared me for that. As an Indian kid surrounded by saree clad women, I had grown up seeing bare midriffs of various sizes, shapes and colours. Never had I thought that it could also be something like that. And when she came out of the water and opened her cap to let her blonde hair cascade out, I thought I saw it all. But I hadn't.

She saw me gaping and a peculiar shadow crossed her face. "Venez ici", she beckoned, patting the lounge chair next to her. I moved like an automation, and as I neared her and saw her leaning back and looking at me with a peculiar half-smile, and I saw her breasts heaving as she was catching her breath, and her nipples straining against the soft bikini top, and tiny droplets of water breaking up the sunrays into rainbows like a prism and to my horror I felt my pinky rushing up to meet my slack jaw.

"You helping me to put oil on my back, yes cherie", she asked me, and I dumbly nodded my head. Oil on your back? I would oil and entire leper colony if I can have one more chance to see you like this, I thought. She gave me a bottle and and lay down face down on the chair and for the first time I can feast my eyes on her body, without worrying that she would know I am doing so. I poured some oil onto my trembling hands, squeezed my eyes shut and touched her back and it felt as if I was getting jolted by electric sparks that travelled from my fingertips and spread through my body, leaving goosebumps on my skin and making the hairs on my arms and legs stand up. I started making circular motions on her back, gently to start with and then faster and faster, but then stopped when I heard her moaning, fearing that I had hurt her.

She sat up and looked at me. I looked back hypnotised as she reached back and untied the string holding her bikini top. As it fell away I realised that this was the most beautiful thing I had seen in my entire life. "Front I can do cherie", said with that curious half smile, and I felt my heart shatter into a billion pieces.

"You go and make swim now", she said, and starting applying the lotion on her breasts. It was too much for me. I felt something burst and to my utter disbelief I discovered that I had pee-ed in my pants. I am saying pee, but to me it felt like my wee wee had gone utterly crazy. I tried to mumble something and slide away before she saw me, but my worst fears were confirmed when I looked her and saw her staring at the patch that was spreading in my pants and her hand groped for the towel lying at her side.

"You go home now, yes Neil?", she asked me in a small voice.

Fighting back my tears I ran all the way back home. I switched to German the next week.

Enough!!

"The main problem is the system, not the coach, players, selectors...."

"What does this fucker Chidambaram think of himself? Look at what he has achieved.."

"I cant believe how Aajtak can call themselves a news channel..did you see..."

"I dont know what's wrong with these Jats/Kannadis/Bongs..dont you think.."

"Ray was better because..."

"Its not a question of good woman or good wife. What i feel is..."

AAAARGH!!!!!!!! I am sick of opinions, discussions and debates man! Just want to go to a secluded beach and lie under a beach umbrella with a good book, a chilled beer and a stray dog.

People talk so much.

Reverse hangover

Is a phenomenon I have discovered when I have tried to quit firewater. Not only can I not sleep, but in the morning I get up with a splitting headache.

I am proud of myself.

Your birthday

Ok try this. Go to Wikipedia and type your birth day (month and day) in the search tool. And get to know how momentous that day was.

Mine was huge letdown. Except for my birth (which probably is quite enough in the history of mankind), nothing major has ever happened on that day. I sheer desperation I am listing a few events:

- Socrates executed
- British Labour Party formed
- Soviets invade Afghanisthan
- Dale Earnhardt Sr and Jr win the Daytona 500 (6 years apart from each other)
- Louis XV, Galileo born

Bloody hell!! Let me know yours.

I love you

I have finally realised I cannot live without you. When I am with you I can forget the rest of the world. I can forget the disappointments, the failures, the frustrations. Every song I hear with you sounds better that it normally does, every movie I watch with you gives me deeper insights. I love you for always being there. I love you for never letting me down. I love you for never judging me. I love you for never changing. I love you on my lips. I love your warmth. I love your moistness. I love you when you make my head swim.

Fuck my liver. I am not quitting booze.

Goodbye

I look back at this post with some sadness. What a character and what a player!

Have a good life Inzy. But first of all...thanks to allah.

Working like a dog

The Kiwi girls are waiting..

That's me and Shahrukh

'See this one', she said, flipping the pages of a dog eared photo album. 'Me and Shahrukh. I had put on a new dress that day'. In the faded 4 by 6 snap, he saw her standing in her pigeon hole in Sonagachi, with her arms on Shahrukh Khan's shoulder.

'Wait..I have one with Amitabh as well', she said, pulling out another album from a tin trunk that contained all her possesions and memories. 'But with Amitji I couldn't touch him', she said, giggling and blushing as she showed him the snap where she was standing coyly next to the Big B, decked up in ghastly chiffon silks of pinks and greens, but still beautiful with her breathless excitement.

'You are beautiful', he told her, giving her a quick hug. She clung to him, but he had to go. Away from her dark hole. Leaving her with her loneliness, with her pictures of bollywood actors' posters.

That's what friends are for

S was a very good friend of mine..and if you can manage to think beyond Bollywood he was actually a brother (such things actually exist beyond the celluloid, u know). But all that was before he fell in love..

Oh! I forgot to tell you that we were in bangkok..and BKK has these places called go-go bars (i don't know why) where the concept is that everyone (from the waitress to the pole dancer to the toilet attendant or to the sultry siren sitting in the next table) are available..for conversation i mean (what did you think?).So he liked this waitress, and every order was a looong and detailed one, just so she would stand next to him, and their fingers would touch accidentally while pointing out 'kau pak kai' in the menu card. And ultimately, inevitably, Mr Jack Daniels had his day, and he asked her out.

He came back (alone) with stars in his eyes. What a day it had been, he said. There were so many things in Bangkok that we poor souls had no idea about! Especially the boat ride, sitting on the deck with their arms around each other, eating Moo Chops and sipping Singha beer....man! i felt like loser!

And the day came when she arrived unannounced to his place, for the night. I mumbled an excuse about having some work (i was the flat mate u see), went to the nearest pool joint, lost to all the beautiful waitresses, went to the german steak house, over-tipped the lissome lass pouring dollops of Worcestershire Steak sauce, did this did that..looked at my watch (is he a superman? i dont know..better give him the benefit of the doubt)..tentatively scratched on the door, gingerly turned the knob..and the door opened.

There he was, sitting with an inscrutable expression on his face. My cynisim screamed to me that something was wrong, my romanticism told me he was in love (was it the same thing?). Before i could make up my mind he started the narrative..

'When she came in i couldn't believe my eyes man. I had always hoped that she would be easy, but somehow had wished that i was the exception, rather than the rule. And when she came in that's exactly what she said..told me that she didnt know what she was doing in my bedroom..she felt lost when she thought of me......'

i switched off..........yada yada yada yada......

'i had never seen a bra like that'

(i switched on)...

'how many have you seen before', i asked him...

'what do u think i am a chutiya? since i was so small (he said indicating a 2cm gap between 2 fingers in front of his zipper) i have been seeing them..fluttering on a clothesline on the next terrace..with their blue starch marks..some even with safety-pins in the back, and once i saw...'

'ok, ok i get you..so how was this one, if i may ask', i said.

the dreamy look returned..

'i dont know yaar..it was so different..i dont know how to say this..inside there was like something man..like you used to wear chest gaurds while playing cricket na?'

'uh oh', i muttered.

'what do you mean, uh uh', he barked out. 'u think i am a chutiya or what? i know about some women who have smaller breasts and use something to look big.. remember the time you went out on a date with napkin stuffed in your chaddi and...'

'sorry boss..i was just joking yaar. aage bol bhai'

'chutiya' he muttered. 'anyway, so she saw me looking and suddenly she pulled me up and took all my clothes off. i swear, the last time someone did that so fast was when i was 4 and we were entering kalighat temple and i told maa i had done potty in my pant..but then i told you na she was a nice girl. she could understand that i could not take the first step, and she also was new to this experience..'

i switched off..........yada yada yada yada......

'..and there was naked'

(i switched on)...

'huh! naked?'

'i mean i took her bra off..she was so beautiful yaar..so pure..and when she kissed me it was so beautiful yaar..and she was so innocent. she said she was seeing a dick for the first time..and she said she hadn't seen a bigger one before, and this was the first time also...i didn't understand..anyway, i was so happy and i told her to take her skirt off because i thought i will spoil her nice skirt. she told me this is the first time please switch off the light..'

'uh oh', i muttered..

'again you are doing uhuh u motherchod? remember the time you told T to switch of the light and you will show her magic and you...'

'shut up yaar..that was 16 yrs back man'.

'exactly..she is also same innocent like that..chutiya cynical bastard..anyway..so somehow i controlled and went dripping to the switch..i could hear her unzipping her skirt behind me..and the sound of her underwear going down her legs..i turned the light off, groped my way back and she was on the couch with her arms open..'

'sahi hai baap..chaa gaya beta'

'shut up chutiya sun pehle..i laid my head down against her breasts..'

'abhi bola kuch hai nehi'

'motherchod gaar maar dunga..sun na yaar..it was so nice..she said i was the nicest man she has ever met. all people only use her yaar, they think just pay money and make her do anything..yaar men are bastards, seriously. the amount of torture and harassment. and she said i was the one yaar..she wanted to share a secret with me..'

'let me guess..she was a whore', i said with a smirk.

'raand teri maa chutiya..sun na yaar..she took my hand and placed it on her breast..and slowly guided it down to her stomach..yaar how can they have so flat abs man..and then down. sahi tha yaar..trimmed and shaped..and then i felt it'

'it?'

'it', he indicated with his hand.

'IT?? MOTHERCHOD WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING??'

'abey loure sun na..its not her fault..she just wants money for the operation..she is otherwise perfect yaar..she showed me so many things one can do even if a girl doesn't have that..it was an eye opener for me yaar'.

'i dont believe i am having this conversation..u mean u actually...??'

'sun na yaar...just drop your fucking know all attitute for once..let me show you'.

Its been a long long time

Running your hands through a soft fluffy bush. Touching a bud and watching it harden. Kissing the petals and tasting their oh sweet juices. Caressing the valleys and the shadows ever so lightly, fingers caressing and feeling the gentle answering quiver. Feeling the moistness and inhaling that smell to the farthest capillary of your lung. Hearing the sighs and the groans and smelling the sweat. Pushing yourself to go on a on, deeper and deeper, till you collapse and lay panting and spent but ready for more.

Its really been a long time since I been on a nature trail.

The victory of the lowest common denominator

The concert was great..the sound, the visuals, the props, the hands and of course Roger himself. I had gone for the 'In the Flesh' tour in 2002 as well and had sorely missed Gilmour. But this time around the hands were magnificient and the lead guitar riffs gladdened the hearts of even floyd bigots like me. All in all..an evening to remember. But...

I was saddened to see that Roger had to come down to our level. His lyrics used to subtle, his anti bush sentiments used to be delightfully scornful. But subtlety is wasted on the non-occidental populace..so his latest song has lines like

'Are these the people that we should bomb
Are we so sure they mean us harm
Is this our pleasure, punishment or crime
Is this a mountain that we really want to climb
The road is hard, hard and long
Put down that two by four
This man would never turn you from his door
Oh George! Oh George!
That Texas education must have fucked you up when you were very small'

Pretty childish stuff i think..but these were the only lyrics that were displayed on the screen along with the song..and hence the only lyrics the srk-karan-bigb-lovers understood..so they cheered wildly and everyone was happy.

But then dont listen to me..i am just a cynical bastard.

An invitation

To everyone I have been talking to through this blog..to please make themselves available this weekend (friday or saturday) and get together for a few drinks and literary discussions of the highest order (we can also discuss Malika Sherawat if you want). Please be there (somewhere, anywhere everyone decides) and lets have some fun.

Slow slow office day

mail.yahoo.com
www.bbc.co.uk
ghetufool.blogspot.com
www.jhum.blogspot.com
mail.yahoo.com
orkut.com
saltlakeman.blogspot.com
varticity.blogspot.com
absolutelynothingisavailable.blogspot.com
mail.yahoo.com
www.bbc.co.uk
ghetufool.blogspot.com
www.jhum.blogspot.com
saltlakeman.blogspot.com
varticity.blogspot.com
mail.yahoo.com

tick tock tick tock tick tock

Can't write

Its not really a block..rather, its the reverse. After I visited this blog I have been itching to write about a lot of things that happened in my life. A lot of things that would make perfect blog material..but..like a fool i didnt make this an anonymous blog. 'Whatever I say can be used against me in a court of law'. So..I cant write.

But..if you start getting comments on your respective blogs from someone called IamNotShuv or something like that..and if you click on the profile and go to a blog with XXX nostalgia..please dont let on that you know its me.

Amazing picture!!

Isn't it an amazing shot? And you know why? Because the black camels are just the shadows of the actual camels (the white specks) shot from vertically overhead.

Taken by George Steinmetz for the National Geographic Turkey.

Seems like I have finally met my match in photography.

Manali!

That was on the road to Rohtang Pass, at midnight on a freezing full moon night. But that comes later. Let me start at the beginning.

Last Wednesday I suddenly came to know that all the top bosses are going to Manali for a 3 day workshop and I was supposed to join them. That could have meant 2 things - i would be promoted or fired. I didnt spend too many sleepless nights wondering which one it would be and utilised Thursday digging out my winter clothing from their moth balled existences.

The flight was memorable in one way - the propeller driven 30 seater Air Deccan airplane. Before boarding I suddenly got this premonition that I should talk to my son once before the thing took off but my fears were unfounded - we landed safely in Kulu an hour later on a nippy sunny afternoon.

4 of us had already decided to use this trip to freak out and so it wasnt surprising that we 'accidently' landed up in the same car for the hour long drive to Manali. A couple of stops for beer and steaming hot trouts later we entered the beautiful Holiday Inn hotel, just on the outskirts of Manali.

The post lunch kickoff meeting confirmed that out of the 2 professional paths, the powers to be had decided on the former, and the rest of the trip was gone in somehow going through the 10 hour meetings, freaking out for 8 hours and crashing for 6 hours.

There were a couple of great experiences...with one great thing in common. Manala Cream is reputed to be the best hash in the country, and boy, did it live up to its reputation! We procured a 'tola' from a small roadside shop in Manali and the last joint was smoked outside the airport before boarding the return flight. And it was AMAZING! Like 5 of us went out at 11:30 PM for a walk outside and suddenly found ourselves flagging down a car and heading towards Rohtang pass. We went as far as the road was open and then wandered around the snow for an hour in the biting sub zero temperatures. And the next day there was this amazing 2 hour trek up a mountain, with the reefers and the beers, and then paragliding down to the amazingly beautiful Kulu valley.

Well I am not much of a travel writer. But if you havent been there definitely plan (and not in the peak tourist season). Here are some of the pics..maybe they would help make up your mind.

The transference of apathy

A test for my psychic abilities

I have had these amazing psychic flashes that have come true and left me slightly uneasy about myself. But this time I want to prove it to the rest of the world. Here's the latest flash that would come true on April 28, 2007.

India will win the world cup by bundling out the aussies for 128.

All u guys out there cash in your life savings and go the nearest bookie.

Those bloody racist goras!!

Look at what they are subjecting poor poor Shilpa to!! So what if she is getting 4 crores to sit in a room? And how does it matter if the whole concept of the show is to have people gang up on each other and eliminate contestants one by one? How dare they subject her to racist abuse?

So what if she is from bloody Bombay, filled with those bloody ghatis and shiv sainiks who want to throw all bongs out? And who can blame them? The bloody bongs are a bloody lazy and parochial lot. And they also want the Gujjus and Panjus out, because those baniyas control 85% of Bombay. And dont forget the bloody biharis and bhaiyas from UP who make up for 97% of the auto and taxi drivers and daily wage labourers. Come to think of it, throw out all the bloody kannadis as well. They make up about 98.2% of all waiters and cooks in the eating joints. And the bloody backward castes, throwing the city in disarray on Ambedkar's birthday or if someone damages his statue. And throw out all the kattus man..all of them are Paki sympathisers and harbor ISI agents in their homes.

And how dare the brits be racist towards us? Our culture goes back 5000 years when they were living in caves. All goras are fucking with each other all the time. Fathers raping daughters, mothers fucking milkmen..thats what they are. And dont get me started on the blacks. All of them are drug dealers. And all black males use their huge black tools to entice innocent white women and fuck them. And can you trust the bloody hispanics? All bloody illegal immigrants, stealing jobs from honest ctizens. And the bloody chinamen, all coming from Taiwan, Vietnam, Cambodia and Japan and all those Chinese countries and making china towns and creating trouble.

But, all that is besides the point. How DARE they subject Shilpa to racial abuse??

The truth at last

Scout got me into this. And look what I found out about myself. THANKS A LOT SCOUT...

You are The Devil

Materiality. Material Force. Material temptation; sometimes obsession

The Devil is often a great card for business success; hard work and ambition.

Perhaps the most misunderstood of all the major arcana, the Devil is not really "Satan" at all, but Pan the half-goat nature god and/or Dionysius. These are gods of pleasure and abandon, of wild behavior and unbridled desires. This is a card about ambitions; it is also synonymous with temptation and addiction. On the flip side, however, the card can be a warning to someone who is too restrained, someone who never allows themselves to get passionate or messy or wild - or ambitious. This, too, is a form of enslavement. As a person, the Devil can stand for a man of money or erotic power, aggressive, controlling, or just persuasive. This is not to say a bad man, but certainly a powerful man who is hard to resist. The important thing is to remember that any chain is freely worn. In most cases, you are enslaved only because you allow it.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Decision time..

OR

Happy birthday Rod

"May the good Lord be with you
Down every road you roam
And may sunshine and happiness
surround you when you're far from home
And may you grow to be proud
Dignified and true
And do unto others
As you'd have done to you
Be courageous and be brave
And in my heart you'll always stay
Forever Young, Forever Young"

- Rod Stewart, Forever Young

Thanks for the thousands of hours of pleasure Rod.

Going back to my roots

I am thinking new way of making boring to my good friends. Now I am always doing the talking like my countryman do the english many time before. And all friends not happiness with this and this make lot of happiness for me. I also start same thing in my office and all good people having red face in meetings and showing very angry to me and not coming to me for asking anything. This also making lot of laughing inside me but my face showing i am sitting like very old man face and do a lot of jobs.

I am thinking that all my good peoples who have knowing me by reading this blog also do start and see how much good funness it is giving to the mind. Maybe I become famous when all world people having talking like this all the time and making happy talking all the time. Because like this no somebody can be having angry talks and have fighting with good friends or somebodies and every peoples have happy and smiling lifes.

Realisations and resolutions

Finally I realised what the rest of mankind has known for the last 2000 years. Any relationship between two people - lovers, spouses, parent-child, family or friends - can be a successful one if (and only if) it is based on mutual respect. Love can make the world go around and all the crap, but if two people do not respect each other, there is no way that love can grow and sustain itself. And respect is something that has to be earned, not demanded, cajoled or arm-twisted. So, finally, here is my new year resolution:

Thou shalt make thyself respectable to people who matter to thee.

A wide spectrum resolution such as this has got one major advantage. If, at the end of the year, I find that I have drunk myself silly, have not exercised, have not been a good father, son, husband, friend, employee, citizen or human being...well, I have just broken ONE resolution, not 127.

That would give me a good feeling moving into the next year.

A New Year Song

I dont know why..but this song by CCR looks like how 2007 will be for me..i have waded thru shit, swam in muck, seen it all..now its payback time...(loky this one is for u).

Someone told me long ago
There's a calm before the storm,
I know!
It's been comin' for sometime.
When it's over so they say
It'll rain on a sunny day,
I know!
Shining down like water!

I wanna know: have you ever seen the rain?
I wanna know: have you ever seen the rain
Comin' down on a sunny day

Yesterday and days before
Sun is cold and rain is hot,
I know!
Been that way for all my time.
Till forever on it goes
Thru the circle fast and slow,
I know
It can't stop I wonder!

I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain?
I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain
Comin' down on a sunny day?

YEAHHHHH!

I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain?
I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain
Comin' down on a sunny day?

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!

As i was reading about the usual drunken incidents in the 1st January paper, I thought wouldnt it be great if cars came with built-in drunk detectors that would analyse a driver's breath or sweat and not start if the readings are above a threshold? That would be the only full-proof way of preventing the thousands of meaningless deaths every year.

And today i read this ...If only I had blogged the idea down!!!

There goes my million buck royalty paycheck...BOOHOOOOHOOO!!!!

Children of a 'lesser' God

I have always been very close to kids. I don’t know whether it’s because our mental levels are comparable or whether it’s because like kids, my heart is as pure as a driven snow. Whatever the reason, I have always been accepted into their world as one of their own and have seen their world from the inside.

It’s not a nice world.

Kids have this amazingly rigid socio-economic structure. When we were kids the economic part did not exist. Someone was branded a whiney, for example, irrespective of whether he was the son of the local coal shop owner or the son of the para doctor. There was no concept of differentiating people based on their parents’ money, stature or social position. Now I see these kids leading sheltered lives in enclosed residential complexes, with no exposure to the outside world and no idea of how people less fortunate than them are living in the outside world. Most children (and unfortunately their parents) are downright callous and indifferent about the poor and homeless. My son’s idea of charity and social responsibility is that when one of his toys breaks he keeps it aside saying that he would give it away to a street child to play with. Similarly, my contribution towards poverty eradication is to pay for the education of a couple of faceless girls through monthly deductions from my credit card. But then again, I am rambling.

Coming back to the kids, their world beats the competitiveness and ruthlessness of any high-pressure, performance oriented MNC or the machiavellian schemes of a coalition political party. It’s a dog eat dog world out there, allegiances are sworn and forgotten at the bat of an eyelid, bosom friends discarded and ridiculed in front of newly found soul-mates, shy insecure loners ganged up against and banished to their pitiful ignored existences and loud, brash, aggressive kids (or quiet, arrogant kids with the latest Nintendo or Gameboy) suck up to, adored and followed around. Only the fittest can survive here, and ‘fit’ is a person who doesn’t form any lasting friendships, who doesn’t display any conscience pangs and who can go with the tide and always duck the big wave coming their way.

I make no judgment or attempts to influence their world. I won’t stick around long enough to either change their directions or witness the world where the kids of today have taken over. But I can’t prevent my heart from feeling a twinge of regret or a shaft of fear, for innocence lost and purity killed.

My son's christmas wish

When i asked him what he wanted from Santa he said he wanted a tree in the house which grew money instead of leaves. That way I would be able to stay at home the whole day and play with him, instead of going back to Delhi.

Sniff.

Briefcase

I dont know if any one of you is old enough to remember the briefcase. From my earliest childhood, it was something that symbolised the transition from youth to manhood. Muhalla bhaiyas who used to lounge around in the club-rooms, playing carrom or cricket or generally discussing global issues, day in day out, without break or dip in enthusiasm, suddenly became respectable and serious when they landed jobs and started taking the 8:55 bus to office with a briefcase in hand. You no longer could greet them and ask them the East Bengal Mohun Bagan score of the previous day's match, or whether the latest Mithun starrer was worth watching or not (you could of course ask him these when he held court in the club in the evenings, but then you would have to wait till he has finished a lengthy discourse on how office politics is ruining the work culture in India, or how had ticked off his boss when he had dared to ask him stay an hour after office to complete some urgent work).

Not everyone was so lucky though. There were some poor souls who got jobs where the office did not give them briefcases to carry (after all, not everyone can aspire to be an Insurance Salesman, Maintenance Engineer or Sales Executive). These guys were treated with absolute disdain and we used to ridicule these poor bastards when we used to occupy our newly inherited positions of importance in the club house. 'Imagine', we used to say, with a superior smirk and knowing winks, 'Biltuda goes to office without a briefcase and have you seen the superior expression on his face? As if we dont know what a shitpot he must have joined'.

One such dada must have shared the same opinion as us. And after scrapping through his BCom Pass and landing a job somewhere, he started for his first day in office with a gleaming VIP swinging in his hands, looking as if the moment he would be approached, he would point the damn thing and mutter 'go ahead, make my day'. But we knew Keshtoda, and his academic record and his personal magnetism. And we were pretty sure that it was quite beyond him to secure a job that would require him to carry a briefcase. This was discussed in great detail over the next few days and finally a courageous handful of decided to waylay him one morning and demand to inspect what was inside.

That fateful morning, we waited at the curb, with hearts beating slightly faster, but secure in the knowledge that the para would get a scoop that would be talked about for ages to come, ensuring out place in para folklore for eternity to come. Sure enough, Keshtoda was challenged, his briefcase siezed, opened, while he blabbered in forced indignation, shoulders already stooping, downcast eyes fighting back tears as we all stood around his open briefcase containing a ridiculous collection of children's books and stuff and his tiffin of a banana and 2 slices of sugar sprinkled bread.

In the evening it all came out. Frustrated at not getting a job he had joined some social organisation that goes to slums and teaches children how to read write and stuff like that. They pay conveyance (state transport) and a princely sum of 20 bucks a day for lunch. We all had a great time that day, ribbing him for his worthless life, the other successful dadas explaining to him that he should have gone to them, they would have arranged something for him, why even the peon in their office gets 750 bucks a month!

Keshtoda took all this quite well. He just sat there quietly, sometimes giving a rueful smile when someone said something particularly funny (like Ajitda telling him to start helping our uncles with their housework and chores and then all families in the para will pool in with some contribution for him), sometimes clenching his hands when Romada declared that these NGO-s basically supply young women and children to the Arab world (and Romada would know, his uncle was settled in Canada for the last 28 years), but generally disappointing all us neither by breaking down or trying to fight for and defend himself.

Anyway, from the next day onwards Keshtoda started going to 'work' with a jhola slung on his shoulders. Initial ribbing died down soon enough as our interest moved on to other topics and targets. We all moved on in life, in turn got briefcases of our own. Some fell, some soared. The briefcase no longer generated respect. Kids were moving around with mobile phones and laptops. Some carried only combs to work. Some sat at home and earned trading shares on the phone. But all of them had one thing in common. Everyone moved like an automation. Nobody smiled, nobody stopped to talk to people they crossed in the streets. Nobody came to the club room anymore. Nobody knew whether their next door neighbor was alive or dead. Nobody had anyone to talk to when they felt lost and hopeless and needed someone to talk about their memories or their fears or their hopes.

Except Keshtoda. He looked as serene as ever. He looked fulfilled, satisfied and totally at peace with himself. Someone was saying that he was working as an advisor to Unesco. Someone was saying that he might go to the US soon to deliver a paper. But one thing I knew. The briefcase I had lent him when I started using a laptop looked like it had finally found its way back home.