The Thief who stole Time

Behind Bars, Almost!

2009-11-02T22:47:00.003+05:30

The Libero had oil leaking out of its front forks.

The Pulsar looked tempting.

After much deliberation that encompassed a variety of rational and irrational enquiries, Thallu decided it's time to take a stand. Not self assured of his biking prowess, Serial Killer (S.K. here on) waited in patience for Thallu's expert decision.

The Pulsar roared in to life. Thallu drove majestically into M.G. road. Once we reached there, we were basically running back and forth the entire stretch of M.G.Road trying to figure out where Mr. Pai had set up his famed "Pai Dosa" kada. After quite a few tries we finally resigned to the fact that Pai had closed for the day.

Thallu knew where to get food at 12:30 in the night. So it was decided that dinner was going to be non-veg.

We had two decent sized shawarmas. I must also add that much of the chicken tasted like flavored pieces of vulcanized rubber.

It was during this time I brought to our attention that we needed to buy Mr. BulkVoice and Mr. Bengalluru something to drink. Since this street food place was a bit distant from the House it was decided that we will buy the drinks from somewhere on the way. Meanwhile, the shawarma had done the trick. Mr. S.K. decided it was time he tried out the pulsar. After a few initial hiccups with sorting out the gear shift, S.K. was riding like Schumacher possessed by Valentino Rossi.

"Kaiyil license undodey?"

Mr. Thallu's abrupt and oddly timed question swept in to S.K.'s fantastic world of bad boys 4 like a tsunami. And, along with that, it changed the course of the modern world as we know it.

S.K. halted the bike to a stop. Waited for an explanation from Thallu as to why exactly you were not supposed to ride a bike on a Kochi street at 1 am in the morning without a license. Upon receiving proper explanation, Mr. S.K. promptly got down and offered the helmet to Mr. Thallu. Everything was perfect.

What do we know..!

A rickety '80s jeep comes to a stop behind you. The khaki clad Mr. Purushothaman ( Purushu for all purposes) alighted and behind him another sidekick that we do not wish to reveal the name of, basically coz we don't know.

The baritone voice cut through the descending mist like a katana through green bamboo.

"Enthanu paripadi?"

"Onnumila saar.". Thallu replies in words dripped in pseudo respect.

"Ahha..vandi aarudetha? Aaranu oodichathu? License undodey?"

"Enteyaanu saar. njaan aanu saar oodichathu. License undallo saar.". Thallu retorted.

S.K. prefers to keep silent.

"Bookum paperum oke undo? ingu eduthe."

Thallu and S.K. spends 15 minutes searching for the paper of a bike that Thallu had claimed barely 5 minutes back was his. Talk about convincing acts!

After some struggle the documents are wrenched out. Boldly written on the laminated piece of crap is "Owner of Vehicle: Harigopal"

Now, that is some wonder.

Thallu and I make up many many explanations some of which were

a) We have shared ownership saar.
b) it is the company vandi saar. (purushu surprised)
c) company vandi enu vachal, company il orumichu vanapol orumichu eduthu vandi aanu saar. (All thank S.K.)

A string of questions follow after which Purushu deems it necessary for the vandi to be taken to the police station coz afterall, I quote,

"pulsar vandiyaanu etavum moshtikan elupam. orupaadu complaints varunnu."

Thallu does a thallu

"Saar, athinte ..eh ..avashyam undo saar ..eh"

S.K. almost closes his eyes coz he knows the chekitathu adi is coming.

Voila! It is not.

"nee anodey theerumanikunathu enthu cheyanamennu eh?"

"alla saar. paper ellam undu. kuzhapamonumila saar"

But Purushu had made up his mind that there was some Kuzhappam. Purushu the kidilam.

Purushu keeps at the show off. The sidekick interferes to convince him it's alright and to let us go.

At this point, God made Purushu do the worst mistake of his life.

Purushu utters obscenities and dismisses us with the words,

"ini ivide enganum kandu pokaruthu." (Have no idea what he meant by asking us not to ever be near M.G.Road)

Thallu gracefully accepts the papers back from Purushu and does a Mohanlal,

"Sir, enalum angine parayenda avashyamundo? Njangal thetonum cheythilalo!"

Purushu is visibly angry. Orders the sidekick to take the bike to Central Police station.

We are royally escorted in to the back seat of the Jeep.

Have to admit the feeling is awesome. It is almost like something happening that you knew would happen someday but not so (sooooo) soon in life.

Honestly, yours truly was a little worried that the night would be spent in jail. The scariest part was if Purushu would order us to be stripped in classic prison style.(S.K. wishes to admit that if that had happened, S.K. would have been in a pickle due to the non possession of certain vital clothing items.

S.K. was getting impatient. To the next exclamation from Purushu,

"alla..vidaam nu vicharichapol avan nyaayam parayunnu."

S.K. informed that Thallu is frustrated due to some work trouble and does not mean what he says.

The rest of the night went like scripted. Thallu got people from back at the House to produce the required documents to have our release ordered.

After the night's incidents, Thallu bravely proclaimed that he would be giving Purushu one "PANI" and that to that cause he would stop going out after 10 pm anymore.

S.K. says,

"Way to go thallu."

But nevertheless, S.K. wishes to laud Thallu's extreme sense of righteousness and the resolve to be never treated with disrespect. But I do wonder what would have happened if the people back at the House hadn't picked up his call.

I can already smell the wet rust on the jail bars :)

A night spent well, anyway.

Green Hopes

2009-10-31T00:31:00.006+05:30

She trudged on, surrounded by the green darkness of wild shrubs and the canopy of giant trees.

She had my songs playing at her lips. I should have long given up pressing my point. But like an annoying friend I kept nudging at her senses.

For every step she took, she knew she had thousands she couldn't trace back. The feeling was growing on her. The knowledge that with every passing moment she was delving deeper into permanence was haunting, and now her sole motivation. To strip herself of alternatives, to see what it would be like to face inevitability and not have the option to choose a different way. She, now, was the woman she always wanted to be.

High hopes played on her pod. It had been playing for hours now and she did not want to change it. In her new found state of bliss, change was an unnecessary tool aimed at tampering with what is absolute. Things were perfect.

The smell of iron had masked every other odor in the air - of the damp earth, the rotting bark and that of the wild hibiscus she had on her hair. Wafting through the air, like an army sent on rescue mission they were all sabotaged by her own element.

As the gloom started creeping in to her beautiful eyes, she knew she had no use of them anymore. With a twist of the blade, she gouged them out and they fell to the ground below with the faintest of thuds one after the other. One. Two. Like a shore deprived of its sea wall, her nerves took in the cold slight breeze. It was like the first showers of a morning rain; I felt it best to tell her I'm here for her.

"You would not understand", she said to me.

I wanted to.

I called out to her again. Loud.

Sweet sounds of agony sieved out of her contorted lips. I took over her senses. It was my excruciating best.

She had cut the hibiscus at its base.

Lying on the damp earth, under the canopy of giant trees, she could tell she was surrounded by green darkness. I could not tell if her convoluted face hid a smile.

I left her to the woman she always wanted to be. To the eventuality, she wanted to confront without having the option to choose another way.

Bend over bitch ! :D

2009-03-11T22:29:00.002+05:30

Quite without any purpose, I dragged her lifeless body over the worn out rocks, some of which still had a cover of green. A while before I was driving down the street listening to "yellow", completely content with the way things were. And now, I'm a little less that content. The problem with life is, you are always told everything is for good, you believe it and when finally things do turn out good you feel they were right; and then, just then, everything flips.

I wonder what she felt. It is not everyday that you bend over to pick your glasses and get run over by a freight truck. She had few expectations in life and so you'd think maybe its not as bad as someone very ambitious getting killed. But the bitch that life sometimes is, getting killed is never justified. Those would be heavy moments; You read about accidents everyday in the paper and you think its horrible. Then one day, you take a walk down the road to the grocer next corner. Your eyes water 'coz there is so much dust in the air. You swear to yourself 'coz you forgot to take tissues with you. Then, luckily, you see the end of your hanky sticking out of your coat pocket. You thank god, take the hanky and try to wipe off the moisture under your eyes. In the process, you twitch the leg of your specs and they fall by your side on to the empty road. You bend over, grab a corner of the hanky and look sideways 'coz you know you heard a sound. You see a vehicle approaching and you know you'll be hit and you know its going to be a lot of blood. You curse your luck and brace yourself for the pain. You want to close your eyes but it's not happening yet. Another second maybe, but not yet still. But now it's too close and you curse yourself for not pulling away before. You give up everything there. There is no angel coming, there is no miracle happening. You hear the screech of the tyres on the road 'coz the driver braked. And in that moment, the final one, you still hope it stops in time. Thud.

You'd have probably lost track of the thread. But this is me, the one you should've wondered who. I'm the one who designed this. To tell you, how simple everything is really. All the fuss is about nothing. I'm the one who's dragging her lifeless body over the moss grown rocks. And beyond that point there, I'll slip. The current is strong and I'll leave with the tiny whirls. And before I be dead, I'll drink the blue water and I'll see the sky above me. And before I give in to the want of screams, I'll know life's been good, simple and uncomplicated.

Memoirs of a post-high school guy

2009-03-09T19:57:00.004+05:30

I'd have loved to tell you that I'm being watched. But I'm not. And right now I'm overwhelmed with joy. I'm listening to "tu hi mera" by Mithoon; new one on the charts. It feels like a long forgotten vapour lamp has set off somewhere inside me. The kind of joy that you get when you sit in the orange light of an incandescent bulb and listen to tracks that remind you of your high school sweethearts; and all those things that have happened between you.

The fight over pencils that led you to touch her precious skin for the first time and the way time froze for a few seconds while your eyes locked and you tried to look alright though you perfectly knew inside that nothing would ever be the same.

The time when your teacher made you sit alongside her in class as punishment for making paper planes under the bench while the class was going on; and the way you wished she doesn't catch you looking at her face.

And the most popular one: the first time she acknowledged your existence and smiled at you. That one tops the list.

The time you first talked; the way you tried to come up with something to say every time it seemed the conversation was getting over, just to keep talking to her.

Me: "Oh, you live there?"

She: "yeaahhh." (about to turn her head towards the girl behind)

Me: "aaha. Um and lets play? Whats your favorite color? You've a pet?"

She: "Okay. let's play."

Me- Proudest guy in the world.

The day when she asked you to comb the hair to the left and you promptly came hair combed to the left next day, she smiled and the whole class went "He's in love with her.". Loser? Like I care. I ruled the day.

How you would get your dad to drop you off at school early every morning afterwards 'coz you could then search under the tables for pieces of paper that read "FLAME: SHARAN, SRUTHI"; and how you would then proudly take in the news that you and she were becoming an "item" in class.

And this last one, my special one: How I resisted a thousand times shagging 'coz just then I had remembered her and it would amount to blasphemy going on with it. If you are a guy you'd know how difficult that is :) particularly proud of that one though I'm not sure why I should be.

Basically I'm just looking to enhance the number of posts here. I don't feel nice about this post. I think it's just colorless overall.

YO + "chillies" = "Chellis" ?? !!

2009-03-07T00:50:00.003+05:30

I got back home half an hour ago. I had gone for this much hyped malayalam movie called "Red Chillies". I'm not so sure now though, 'coz the director apparently reckons it is "Red Chellis". I'm not even gonna guess where he did his schooling from.

The film opened with a lot of noise. All that the hapless guy on screen was doing was making a call. And there was this background score like the universe had just banged in to life. The main protagonist, a 50 year old veteran who looks more like a barrel than human, storms in to the screen and delivers a flurry of dialogues in english and leaves in slow motion as the title of the film comes alive on the screen. "Red Chellis".

What immediately followed could be described as "a lot of snap shots of pot bellies of what seemed like women who were definitely not hot". This seems to be an epidemic all across the Indian film scene. Film makers want to make it spicy 'coz the spicier it is, the better the box office run. But somehow they miss the point that showing an assembly of navels of every female they have on the set is not hot. It is disgusting, it is sick and most of all it suddenly makes me understand how absolutely pathetic these people are. I'm all for watchable skin show. But this was like a W.H.O. documentary on ill-fed aborigines of a famine stricken wasteland somewhere along the coast of tristan-di-cunha.

This director would easily pass for a genuine idiot and he wouldn't even need to pretend for that. The fight scenes are even more astonishing and breath-taking. Honestly, I'd sit and bear it if an average built guy is shown jumping over a car or truck. But seriously, how can you be preposterous enough to actually think the audience would be dumb enough to sit and watch and believe the 50-something actor execute moves Bruce Lee couldn't in his prime.

This post is an impulsive response to Shaji Kailas and his shit movie "Red Chellis". Again man, what were you thinking...."Red Chellis" !!

Pavakka Payasam

2009-02-17T01:32:00.002+05:30

“And I stand at the gates of her home. She would be walking down that stone pavement anytime now, flashing that smile of hers. The pavement isn’t important. Her smile is. Her smile, the reason for all that is in existence-the reason why the sun shines, the reason why there are roses and violets and the sole reason why there is Christmas. In the bigger picture, I wasn’t so important either. All that ever mattered was her smile, really. She was the beautiful woman. Saying she was the most beautiful woman would be comparing her with others. That would be criminal. Period.

Anna is the woman you love anyway. You don’t find reasons to love her. She walks past you and before you could open your mouth and show how much of a loser you are, half your soul would have gone away with her and you would lose your breath and choke on your heart that would already be half way up your throat. Looks could kill. No seriously, yeah.

Let me now get back to my own loser self. I’m not a loser by choice. I’m a loser by design. Some would argue that it just means I’m a guy. It actually means a lot more. It means I love Anna. It means that I get to see her every day of my loser life. It even means that I get to secretly fantasize making out with her. Just so you know, we’ve done it 17 times. And the last time we were at it, she said I’m cute. If I rolled up my sleeve, you’ll see I still get goose bumps. Losers so rule!”

End of Dream. I get up, and am instantly surprised that I’m alive.

When you are travelling all the way from Pune to Trivandrum in a dingy second class coach of a Jayanthi Janatha trudging along the outskirts of Andhra, feeling lost becomes a routine you follow morning to evening and far into the sleepless nights. But that is also when you remember you had a life before all the stress of higher education had set in. I remember a time when I used to look forward to a three day journey on the Coromandel express to Calcutta with my family. That was the time I had to worry about impressing the new girl in class. Anyway, once you are off the borders of Kerala chances are that you’ll find yourself mostly in places where there is like one palm tree for each acre, lots of rocks and lots of hitherto unnamed hills. And weirdly enough, it turns me in to a romantic.

So this time, as I was sailing across the arid deserts of Andhra that weird romantic possessed me again. Looking around I mostly found bipeds that kept talking “blah blahh blu bli bloua!”. That is hell of a lot of perspective we are talking about. So, disappointed at having no one to take myself out on I resorted to thinking.
Remember that feeling of overwhelming happiness at the sight of your crush in 6th grade? Yeah, that was pretty much the only emotion I had for the rest of the journey. Let me clarify, Hunger is not an emotion. And to spice things up, I was reading Chetan Bhagat’s “The three mistakes of my life”. The first para that said about Vidya cranked me up to the point that I could actually create imaginary girls to fall in love with. Thankfully, someone I met a year back saved me all the trouble. Oh, it is a she. 10 years back I wouldn’t have had to add that info. Thanks to the developing world.

Frooti is like a really big gulab jamun( I’m not trying to be funny. It is not funny. She just happens to feed on frooti a lot). She oozes sweetness. And you will excuse me for actually trying to convince you that a girl can ooze sweetness afterall. She is the girl who actually makes me want to go out at night and check if her blanket is covering her feet. Of course that would also bring into the equation the Gurkha who guards her locality and his 12-inch long knife. If I ever had to buy lollipops for someone, it would be for her. In proper filmy style I could visualize her standing beneath every palm tree that was there, smiling, the dupatta of her yellow-something churidhar trailing in the wind by her side. No it is not Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Ghum. It’s Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikander for me. I should also confess the unsettling truth that I did see myself running behind the trees in slow motion singing “Pehla nasha…”. It was bizarre even for my standards.

I still had bipeds behind me talking away in bushmen language like there was no tomorrow. Really, there was nothing better I could have done. I am often accused of being a polygamy man. I don’t know why. It can’t be because I feel attracted to too many women at once. That really isn’t a plausible one. Now her birthday is coming. Last time I gave her a wicked surprise and it was filmy too. Somehow I’ve got in to the habit of taking standards from mushy Hindi films and improving upon them.

At one point of time I had saved up to 2000 bucks just so that I could make a grand proposal. Turned out, she was already chauffeured. And the arse that romanticism makes out of people, instead of spending that money on hoodlums to get the antagonist’s anatomy researched, I spent it on CCD bills. Oh yeah, their bills cost a lot. So one year and 2000 bucks later, I found solace in the age old philosophy,

“If the grape costs a lot, it probably is sour.”

At 3 in the morning, sleep deprivation can do strange things to people. The pleasure’s been mine.

The curious case of Pattabhi Raman

2009-01-24T21:44:00.003+05:30

I first heard about the black hole in 9th grade. Then I heard a little more in 10th. And practically nothing in high school. But that is not really important. So let's switch.

I looked at myself in the mirror and said, "Am I a manager?"

I got no replies.

"Do I look like one?"

-shhhh-

"Could I act like one?"

-shhhh-

Finding peace thus, I quietly went off to the other room and shagged to my heart's content watching Cytherea squirt like the washer went loose on a Kirloskar pump. Mad woman. Oh and even she's got a husband, who, I hear, is NOT working in the porn industry. Could he be any ball-less.

Oh that makes me think; "lingam" in our vernacular means a guy banana. Niiicee.

Crap. I had a fone call. Now its too late to think up more crap. I'm bored of this anyway.

I'm a giant squid. I'm a blue whale. I'm a shoe lace worm. I'm also a jellyfish.

I can work up a caterpillar's father. I can even sing a song to the flies upon the green cheese. I can hoot and laugh. I can even open my mouth and let out the wilder beast. But I won't. I hate showing off.

I am I am. That is fictitious grammar. Fluid loss can lead to fatigue and even coma. How about a fullstop? A semi colon? No. Fluid loss can't help you with that. For that you'd need a pen; with a refill. Black or blue doesn't matter. Paper also you should have. The green light on my speaker is blinking. I hope it isn't a time bomb about to explode when the song ticker comes round a full circle.

I am sorry that you are inconsequential. It is not your fault. It is your fault. Paradox? Don't get me started on that.

Maggot's don't feed on lions. Nor lionesses. They feed on cheetahs and tigers. Ever wondered why? Because clubs without an "l" is cubs and cubs, my friends, are small small lions.

Good day to you all.

I, Pattabhi Raman, love you all except you Leelavati. You bitch!

The post after Forever

2009-01-19T22:22:00.000+05:30

People are going to murder me for writing this. But hey, heck!
So let me start with saying that it’s been like forever since I last posted something. And between then and now a lot of things have happened in my life. Some very significant, some not so and some I don’t know in which class to put.

The first major thing that happened was of course the by-pass surgery that my father had to undergo. There are too many details involved which I don’t want to pour forth again, having done so with a thousand hundred relatives already. But, trust me, it definitely wasn’t happy times. Especially when you are told your father might need a minor check up and in twenty minutes that is revised to a “not-so-minor heart surgery”. Anyways, he’s fine and kicking now. That’s all that matters really.

Oh, but in the process, during the two week camp at Amrita Institute of Medical Sciences, I got to help a baby out and it was just so awesomely overwhelming when the dad called me up on new years’ eve. To the critics, who’ve over the years been desperately trying to convince me of the lacking of a heart; Oh yeah! I do now ..!. Suck on that.

The other major thing that happened was the whole CAT fiasco. Nothing important happened if you could oversee the teeny weeny fact that I completely and totally made a mess of it. I better not elaborate.
Then there was the new year’s. And it was okay. Oh and one nice guy, a numerologist or the sort, told me that I’d been having a bad time for two years now and that 2009, apparently, is MY year. Hurray! Hurray! Now I realize why I screwed up two years of my life, IT WAS SO FRIGGIN’ WRITTEN! Yeah.

Then there was the Ms. Interactomics who made another seasonal appearance and stole my thunder. She’s this Kite I once had and was lost one not-so-fine windy day. And after relentlessly pursuing it for a thousand billion years I finally gave up. And now that I had given up, I’m running in to it almost every time I step out. So now I have it naggingly close, and I push for it again. Unsuccessful I retire. And the vicious cycle continues. How happy times!

Now the good things:-)

My sister and two friends of hers came to stay over at my home for two days. Always fun with girls around:-)

Oh and the single best thing that happened to me: I got my license. It took me four years, three learners’ licenses and almost 7000 bucks. But, who cares. I got rid of my “learners” tag that I really was worried will stick for all eternity. Yahoo..!
Good times …..here I come. Oh, oops. I almost tripped on You. Muhahaha …!

The perfect Killer

2008-10-11T17:47:00.013+05:30

"You feel the last bit of breath leaving their body. You're looking into their eyes. A person in that situation is God!"

said Bundy.

He was talking about the pure joy he felt in murdering.

Theodore Robert Bundy was the first killer to be termed "serial killer".

My obsession with this guy's life started when I took the "which serial killer are you?" quiz on Facebook. Facebook thought my personality is in sync with Bundy's. Lol.

If there is one thing that I can't put in to words clearly its my obsession with psychiatry. I'm fascinated to the point of hysteria by the ways that people's minds work. Nothing could be more complex. Nothing, more hideous and deceptive.

Ted Bundy killed over 35 women. Some estimate that figure to be three-digit. But whatever the figure be, he had one of the most fascinating minds ever. The guy was a deadly combo of two of the most gruesome class of killers. He had at once the morbid sexual interest in women and also the makings of a necrophilic. That means he had two reasons to kill someone; which clearly translated in to the number of his victims.

He used to bludgeon his victims, mostly young girls in the 12-19 age bracket, and then carry them off in his Volkswagen to the deep insides of the forest belt that circumscribes the Seattle state. And there he would take out his libido on them- living bodies if they managed to survive the attack or dead ones if they succumbed to the blows. A necrophilic is someone who has a strong erotic attraction to dead bodies. He would visit the dead bodies time and again, make their faces up to make them look beautiful and then unwind himself upon them. And he would do it until they rot. And when rendered useless he would burn them sometimes, or dismember. There is a footage of him confessing that he had burnt the skull of one of his victims at a fireplace. Imagine this from a guy who was voted one of the most articulate and socially responsible guys of the time. Ted Bundy, was a master of disguise.

Like a lot of others he was a victim to the violent pornography that had permeated the society by then. Just that he was more vulnerable than others to its graphic violence. Though at first he pleaded innocent he went on to confess the murders and even give a reason why he was forced to do all the things he did.

He observed that watching and reading violent pornographic material can give you some sense of power, authority. But you won't stop there. What you unfetter then is your basest instinct, one that is capable of going to any extent to satisfy its wants. Your thirst for higher degrees of violence progressively increases every time you read or view such material. And soon it would take you to a point where you know that visual pornography can go no further. There is a limit to which it can quench your overwhelming thirst for doing such violence. And then comes the big step, making it real. 'Coz when you do it, you know what you can do and there is nothing you can't do when you have someone at your mercy. Ted Bundy called that part of him as the "entity".

Remorseful of his deeds he would later say in his final interview with James Dobson that the revenues from the broadcast of his final interview MUST go to the fight against pornography. He was convinced that but for his exposure to pornography at a very tender age he would have become a nice man, like any who "had a proper christian upbringing and a conscience which could seperate right and wrong just like any one else."

"We serial killers are your sons, we are your husbands, we are everywhere. And there will be more of your children dead tomorrow"

said he in his final interview. In an FBI survey it was found that of the top most wanted 35 serial killers a good 80% of them had traced the root of their violent selves to the exposure to pornography.

This is not a post against pornography. This is purely about Ted Bundy and my obsession with his life.

His childhood was no less intriguing than his violent manhood. Born in to christian family as an illegitimate son, his grandparents could not stand the shame. Instead they brought him up as their son, and his mother 'played' the part of his elder sister until the age of his graduation. During graduation, however, Ted decided to find his real roots and went to Vermont and on searching old records he came to know that he had been living a lie till then. The A & E biography on Ted Bundy puts this down as the cause of his violent future though Bundy himself says in his final interview that it was purely his exposure to violent porn.

Interestingly Ted never failed in his plans, he never left clues and at one time 5000 FBI men couldn't find the body of the missing woman widely regarded as Ted's first victim. But he had to be caught, like all evil, put to rest for ever. He was stopped by a policeman for erratic driving and on searching his vehicle the "tools" he used for the killings was discovered. This was what led to his arrest.

He was able to postpone his electrocution for over ten years; but finally, in 1989, in the morning January 24th Ted was electrocuted. People celebrated his death like a carnival; James Dobson who took his final interview said it was almost like a "superbowl" scene. Police said that in his final days Ted Bundy used to recieve around 200 letters everyday from women who claimed that they love him.

A person with abnormally high intelligence, Ted could have become anything he wanted. But he chose, to "play God". To me, Ted Bundy is one of the most interesting people who've ever walked the earth. I rate him up there, along with Einstien and Da Vinci.

For some reason, I'm just glad Facebook thought I share something in common with him.

Kitty kitty bang bang

2008-10-05T18:47:00.005+05:30

I don't wear specs. I've been longing to get advised to wear specs since the birth of time. Every time I felt I was going blind, I went to the doc. The guy would mercilessly carry out the routine of making me sit on his godforsaken 3x3 inch chair, which by the way wouldn't even seat a molecule of my ubiquitous arse. Then, as if it wasn't already enough proof of his sheer audacity, he'd go to the extent of picking up those miserable shards of glass, I swear, from the time of Tutankhamen that he call lenses and inspect my cornea.

And at the end of all the drama he'd write a "clean. perfect eyes" summary. And of course put me back by a hundred bucks to add to all the misery.

I wonder why he exists even. He does not have to, actually. I wonder what would happen if a Tamil Nadu registered goods carrier runs him over. I'm tempted to think it'd be a lot similar to what a tomato would look like after the same process.

Now as always, I've rode off the track. What I had to write was "I'm getting the eerie feeling that I'm going blind. I'm starting to find things beyond a few feet hard to read." I could have written that and ended saying bubye. But I didn't. This is what having a vapid day can do to you. You just can't stop doing things. Because you are afraid what you'd do when you get that one over with. Its just shit. Just a whole load of yellow shit.

I'm going to have to take an exam this November 16th. I feel like I'd burst open with all the pressure building up inside me. For some reason I always saw myself driving a Porsche through the boulevards of southern France, dining at Hilton and all. I just never gave myself an alternative. So now when I'm faced with the door that can either lead me to where I dreamed of, or take me somewhere I'd have to compromise on a lot of things. Basically, I'm under a lot of pressure. All thanks to my one dimensional future-generator.

I just hope I get to drive a Porsche and make out with some really hot French chic :-)

Lyric-ology

2008-09-29T18:48:00.003+05:30

These are bits and pieces of the best lyric I've come across in the songs I've heard.
There are a lot of good ones of course, but these are the ten I love the most in no specific order.

1) You're beautiful-James Blunt

"You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
There must be an angel with a smile on her face,
When she thought up that I should be with you.
But it's time to face the truth,
I will never be with you."

2) Coming back to life- Pink Floyd

"And where were you when I was hurt and I was helpless
Because the things you say and the things you do surround me
While you were hanging yourself on someone else's words
Dying to believe in what you heard
I was staring straight into the shining sun"

3) With or without you- U2

"See the stone set in your eyes
See the thorn twist in your side
I wait for you

Sleight of hand and twist of fate
On a bed of nails she makes me wait
And I wait without you"

4) Another Brick in the wall- Pink Floyd

"We don't need no education
We dont need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teachers leave them kids alone
Hey! Teachers! Leave them kids alone!
All in all it's just another brick in the wall.
All in all you're just another brick in the wall."

5) Bleeding love- Leona Lewis

"but I don’t care what they say
I’m in love with you
They try to pull me away
But they don’t know the truth
My heart’s crippled by the vein
That I keep on closing
You cut me open and
I Keep bleeding,
I keep, keep bleeding love."

6) Afterglow-INXS

"Touch me and I will follow,
In your afterglow.
Heal me from all this sorrow,
As I let you go.
I will find my way
When I see your eyes,
Now I'm living,
In your afterglow.

Here I am,
Lost in the ashes of time,
But who wants tomorrow,
In between,
Longing to hold you again,
I'm caught in your shadow.
I'm losing control."

7) What hurts the most- Rascal flatts

"But I know if I could do it over
I would trade give away all the words that I saved in my heart
That I left unspoken

What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do"

8) The scientist- Coldplay

"Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are

I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I've set you apart

Tell me your secrets
And ask me your questions
Oh, let's go back to the start

Running in circles
Coming up tails
Heads on the science apart"

9)Yellow- Coldplay

"Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah, they were all yellow

I came along
I wrote a song for you
And all the things you do
And it was called "Yellow"
......
Your skin
Oh yeah your skin and bones
Turn into something beautiful
And you know
For you I'd bleed myself dry
For you I'd bleed myself dry"

10) I'm with you- Avril Lavigne

"I'm standing on the bridge
I'm waiting in the dark
I thought that you'd be here by now
There's nothing but the rain
No footsteps on the ground
I'm listening but there's no sound
...................
Take me by the hand
Take me somewhere new
I don't know who you are
But I
I'm with you
I'm with you"

The ones that almost made it

1) Another day in paradise-Phil Collins

"She calls out to the man on the street
sir, can you help me?
Its cold and Ive nowhere to sleep,
Is there somewhere you can tell me?

He walks on, doesnt look back
He pretends he cant hear her
Starts to whistle as he crosses the street
Seems embarrassed to be there"

2) Lazarus- Porcupine Tree

"As the cheerless towns pass my window
I can see a washed out moon through the fog
And then a voice inside my head breaks the analogue
And says

"Follow me down to the valley below
You know
Moonlight is bleeding from out of your soul"

I survived against the will of my twisted folk
But in the deafness of my world the silence broke
And said

"Follow me down to the valley below
You know Moonlight is bleeding from out of your soul""

Now I feel complete :-)

Albert Einstein's dog said: Bow!

2008-09-28T23:25:00.002+05:30

After close to a billion years, Men still don't seem to be able to tell in public that all they love is tits and asses.

Occasionally they tend to love the carriers as well. Which is when the dolts call it "love". Love doesn't exist. Sex does.

The point is not sex. Usually is. That will be dealt with soon on my blog. But not this time.

The point this time is my growing beard and my twisted mind.

Today, after 20 years of patient waiting, I finally got my first genuine schizophrenic attack. Usually when I bang a chair on the wall or tear away whole magazines it is after coming to that precise decision; that nothing else will do to vent my frustration. But this time I didn't have to think. In fact for two seconds prior and until two seconds after I had no idea what went on.

I got up from the chair, was looking down and had a whole deluge of fucked up thoughts running course in my mind. I sure wasn't thinking what to do next then. And then, out of the blue I started drilling my fist in to the helmet. For some 4 odd seconds there was no stopping me. I had zero control over myself. I doubt I'd have restrained myself if it were steel nails I had in front of me, or some person for that matter. The minute I regained some sense of occasion I was so abysmally embarrassed that I had to smile at myself. I wasn't planning on such an ostentatious show of frustration. It certainly didn't do much to make my image in front of a class.

I'm glad it happened. I'm just glad that I could at last become genuinely psychotic for a few seconds:-)

I love psychology and astronomy and management studies. And they have absolutely nothing in common save the few vowels and consonants. By the way, I'm stuck with graduating in Mechanical Engineering.

That says a lot about me I think.

About the growing beard part, I'm 20. What do you expect?

I am not as interesting as I used to be before, at least online. I can't talk fun anymore. I miss someone a lot. Not 'coz I wanna spend the rest of my life with her, do heroic things to save her from the clutches of the evil dragon or 'coz I love her so deeply and truly and madly and can do anything for her; just that I miss her. And even accepting that makes my ego raise a serious question mark at the face of my masculinity.

I hate people when they make elaborate statements about their love. It sucks.

I hate expressive people, some thing about them always make me feel they are faking big time.

I hate people who smile a lot, most often than not they are cunning.

I hate the smell of rust, and I love the smell of petrol.

I hate it when people keep ranting about their shit. I personally believe your shit is yours. Why spread the stench?

I hate it when I'm made to wait on people. I wanna kill the ones who make me wait.

I hate being in social gatherings. I despise the public. Their voices disgust me to the point that I'm perennially afraid my tympanum would vaporize.

I hate not knowing everything. I'm trying to come to terms with it.

I hate when I'm made to feel like I can't understand something. When something appears beyond my scope.

I hate a bloody lot of things.

In fact of all the zillion things you can generate at random, the only ones I like are the ones with my family. The only people I care about. If you are not my family and you think I love you, you are wrong. I don't. I'm incapable of loving people forever. I get bored of your rational, regular, orderly humdrum existence. I see what you are, before you figure out what I'm. I honestly am not bothered about you.

So to the rest of the world that I hate, I say, Eat my shit. You're worth it.

Intercourse Brochure

2008-09-26T06:48:00.004+05:30

And then, I threw all the doubts in to the bin and clicked on an "ok" somewhere.

Little has changed. Not that anything more should have.

I deleted a few files, my archive and some more files. What it did is, erase every little record I had to reminisce about the only episode in my recent past I genuinely love. It is nauseatingly disgusting to confess that even that was actually about a girl I liked. But, well, truths aren't all that handsome anyway. That's about it.

Yesterday, I went to a Nokia Care Center to get my fucked up fone unfucked. That is a new way of saying it. I'd like to point out at this juncture that "fuck" is in fact the most versatile of all words. I'd like to believe that if "fuck" had a birth star it'd have been a Gemini. Of course I'm one. Which is why I guess "fuck" figures in my life in every form other than the original proper "fuck" form. Never mind, I'll have my way eventually. I'll probably fuck a million people(read: Babes) in the near future. Oh bloody yeah!

Okay I lost the point amongst all the 'fuck' theory. The thing is, the guy behind the counter asked me my name and I couldn't remember mine for like thirty odd seconds. I was in fact cranking up my brain to remember that word so less used. After half a minute of serious thinking I gave him mine,

"Sharan"

And that feeling of being a stranger to yourself came on me. And it is not cool to have that, trust me on this. I actually felt I haven't heard that name much. I actually, was thinking "What the fuck? who sharan?"

I'm always worried. It comes from my nagging mind's need to be not-ordinary everywhere, all the time. I thought mine was a singular problem. "American Beauty" put things in a new perspective. It showed a girl who had the same issue. She believed "the worst thing is to be ordinary"; I can swear the scriptwriter went right in to my mind when I was sleeping, to come up with that line. Screw the asshole. No wait, Screw the libido out of him!

I've more reasons than you'd know to think the way I do.

I've not written a funny post in ages. I'm starting to think I've lost the idiot inside me. Which is good. But is kinda bad too. 'Coz when I'm not an idiot, I'm an absolute genius. But when I'm not an idiot, I'm kinda boring. All geniuses are boring anyway.

I think I wanna finish off saying, I like hot girls. I some times don't ogle at them. But most of the times I see one, I do. I think that instinct has taken birth from not fulfilling my basic need. Which is not food, not shelter and definitely not sleep or water. I'd be extremely gratified if some really hot chic who reads this comes up and gives me a chance to screw her:-)

Rules:
1)I'm not gay, so guys can all wank off. The pleasure, of course, shall be all yours.

2)Money, contrary to what most people would say at this point in their lives, definitely is a problem; So girls seeking monetary benefit shall not be entertained.

3)The choice of Modus Operandi solely rests with me and is subject to change during the course without prior notice.

4)In case of any emergency resulting from the probable malfunction of contraceptives, I shall not be held responsible. In simple words, fuck at your own risk.

5) There shall not be any post-intercourse communication between the client and I, unless in the extremely unlikely situation of the client deserving a second session.

6) The client shall not bring any auxiliary equipments; Request for threesome has to be submitted 3 days prior.

7) Refreshments shall be provided every half hour. The minimum time for the session shall be two hours; during which if the client terminates the contract, she shall be liable to a penalty included re-session of three hours without refreshment breaks.

8) Inter-course without contraceptives shall be allowed only on submitting the result of the Elisa test taken within the last two weeks.

9) Last but not the least, I'm pleased to help you regain the reins over the pleasures in your life.

Good days, bad days

2008-09-15T17:19:00.002+05:30

When the 5th semester results came, I had three supples. That practically ruined my hopes of getting placed while in college. Getting placed was obviously the only reason why I studied something to get in to this motherfucking college. So, well...things weren't good.

Then I took those exams again, all except one. 'Coz I had 40 in that one and needed only 4 more marks to clear it, which I thought I'd get easily on reevaluation. Anyways, I sent all the three for reevaluation and took the two exams. I did fairly well in both and am pretty sure I'll pass in both. And I thought, my luck was turning around. But see, somehow I still managed to screw up. On second thoughts, I didn't screw up. But who do I blame? Fate is something I've managed not to believe in all my life, yet. I'm just thinking. Maybe "fate" is something I could use to my advantage. I blame Fate :-)

Today, the reevaluated marks of two of the three came. The one that I didn't hope to pass in, I passed. And the one that I didn't write this time, the one I hoped I'd easily clear on reevaluation, I didn't.

Although, I've realized on several prior occasions that life can be bloody funny; this feels new.

I'm ACTUALLY facing a situation that never figured even in the worse case scenario. I'm facing getting passed out from this college where every idiot gets placed into some company. I'm actually finding myself amongst the shittiest one or two percent of the total bunch of engineers in my batch.

No offense, but I actually know people who aren't a quarter as good as I am, already placed with some of the best companies on the globe. And I'm left with nothing but a career record of supples. Just them.

In spite of being one of the most humongous failures in the history of mankind, I'm still not scorned at by my parents. They are extremely supportive and I owe a bloody lot to them. My father told me that I could always fly to Dubai and become something. Or I could try my luck at all those walk-in interviews they've these days. That is, if I don't crack CAT this time.

Keeping aside all my negative mindsets, I still can't see a glimmer of hope. And if its the tunnel metaphor you are more used to, I don't see the light. In fact I think, I got myself in to the wrong tunnel. This one doesn't look like it leads to light.

Fuck it, for the first time.

2008-09-12T21:42:00.003+05:30

I feel so damnably lost. Beyond compare.

I feel lost amongst all the zillion billion people around me; losing my identity drowning all the way. I desperately try to keep my head over water but I'm being pulled down. I shouldn't have been so fucking helpless. I feel lost. I think I'm failing again. And I don't think I'm ever going to be taken seriously. Not even for a 20 year old. Some evil thing is holding on to me. I can't write. I can't think. I can't start to believe.

I feel like being squeezed through a juicer. A sugarcane mill. Every time I get rolled and I come through, I think its over. And then, I get pulled back in the other way. And I'm not allowed to faint either. I see the rolls crushing my feet and then my knees. I see it getting closer and closer; I hear my penis squealing beneath the iron. I sense my lungs going out with a puff, and then half way through another groan, it takes in my jaws; then my nose and finally my brain, much of it getting strewn around; some on the wall, some on the floor beneath.

and then, its cntrl+c and cntrl+v ....

Am I so fucked as I imagine; Or is it just my fucked mind? Either way, its fucked up.

Neck bent 180

2008-09-01T06:46:00.003+05:30

Usually, I write everything I think.

But this time I don't think I should be.

So I'm just gonna write, for my sake, "I've been thinking about a past episode again. Just wondering how much things have changed between us. Just curious if she still keeps all those things. I kinda ran in to your board exam mark list copy last day. It still says your name. It also says you were pretty darn good at studies:-).Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to hold on to some tiny weeny wire for dear life here 8-). I've deleted the three hundred odd messages I had saved. But then for the purpose of being honest, I must also let you know that there are things that I've not deleted yet. I'm glad we met. I'm glad you aren't mute.

You know that day we kinda put an end to all this; I kinda "knew" we were going to be talking again. 'Coz I sorta felt a few days "without" me and you'd feel the difference and come tell me that it was a bull decision and lets not do that sorta stuff. Week after week, I thought it'd happen. But you didn't come. That could be two ways, either I never was that important in your life or you did what you felt was right. Either way it was the best decision.

This is all bull alright. Neither did I want to write about it nor has it come out well.

But I need this post. So I'm just gonna keep it here :-)

Plans that didn't work out

2008-08-09T12:12:00.002+05:30

It is not as if I can’t write. I used to have lots to write, ‘coz I knew there was so much going on in me, in my head. People I used to think about all the time, people I used to hate all the time. It is just as if that hot spring that used to run down all over your mind all the time has just stopped doing that anymore. And it didn’t need any reason to stop. It just did. It is funny how completely helpless we can be at times. I, for one, always believe and put up the impression that I’m a strong guy, unmoved by silly emotions. But for all I know I could be anything but that.

My blog is too personal and there aren’t a lot of those times when I feel the need to say something about what bothers the society or the world at large. It is just that, honestly, it doesn’t matter much to me. Yeah they all say its wrong to say “how can I alone bring about a change?”, but its not so wrong if you think about it. I could do all the good in the world and I so would know that someone is going to thwart it. That’s just how our world works. The gross productivity of Japan, U.S and Germany put together will be negated by the sheer incapability of maybe a few African nations combined. Just like some guy said, the fundamental law is things remain the same, in one form or the other. Nothing improves. If anything, it deteriorates. And it’s not so hard to understand why, either. I could be wrong, but this is what I choose to think. Yeah, you could always say “this is what someone completely devoid of any social responsibility would say.” you are welcome but the point is irrespective of what you or I believe, things aren’t changing for the better around us. I don’t want to thrash your hopes of a better India but if this nation is going to be better it can only be through us. And we aren’t getting better by the day. Those who’ve got something to give are taking a flight straight to the west. So you see, it’s really bad; the way things are.

I feel like a fool talking about big things. I suck at politics and my opinion of myself is more like a sine wave. One minute I’d be thinking “Holy Porcupine! I’m good!” and the next, “A vacuum cleaner couldn’t suck more for God’s sakes!” I kind of know that’s not how I should ideally be. But fuck the ideals anyway

It really is disappointing that all I can write is about disappointments now. But honestly that’s the only thing coming to me, I could coerce something finer out of my system but it wouldn’t be half as genuine. Ah.

When amongst my friends I sit back and laugh at all the shit we do but when all that fades away and I’m on my ride back to my home the only thing that really fills me is the bloody “truth” I’ve failed a few people; the ones that matter the most, including myself. It really is the worst case scenario. Let alone not getting a job, the way things are I can’t even attempt to get one. And in the back of mind I just know its all ‘coz I scored a few marks lesser, got a few questions I didn’t expect in my univs. I don’t think you know how it feels. I kind of got to know how it feels to actually “Get a job” a few weeks back. I made it in to the bottom most bracket of eligible candidates to write the aptitude test for Deloitte. Somehow I made it through and was short listed as one of the 40 people from amongst the 300 odd who wrote. Needless to say, I had my hopes flying high. ‘Coz something told me if I could clear the test, the interview would be a lot easier with lesser people to compete with. And, ah I don’t even want to talk about it. The point is I didn’t get selected after what I thought was more than a convincing performance in the interview. And, that evening, leading up to the interview results, was the only time in recent times that I’d been really optimistic about something. Walking out disappointed, at 11:30 in the night the one thing that kept banging against the walls of my mind was the realization that, that was it. That would be the only chance I get to grab a job in my college life. Thanks to my easily overwhelming stack of supples, I wouldn’t need to bother my formals again.

Waiting as one in the many aspiring for the interview results I think there was a moment when I was so convinced I’d get the job. What I felt was a lot bigger than anything I’ve ever felt before. And still, I don’t think it would’ve meant as much to anyone as it would have meant to me had I got it. Nope! But, well, things haven’t worked out for my best. And that is kind of going to remain so until I figure out how to actualize my time machine. Now to pack my bag and venture into greener pastures:-).

Don't ditch me, God of C.A.T!!

wtf

2008-08-07T13:15:00.003+05:30

Okay. I'll write something.

Umm.....The last day I was walking down the busy street of the ...wtf!

I can't write!!!

I C-fucking-A-fucking-N'-fucking-T WRITE!

Change, Doc. Change

2008-07-03T07:16:00.001+05:30

Suddenly, I feel good.

Suddenly, I just feel good. Damn. :-)

These days all I can see around is success and failure. Like a heat diagram. Everything seems to be made up of success and failure in varying degrees. I believe, to this point in my life, I've done nothing extraordinary. Nothing that, if by someone else, would have made me feel, "Shit. The guy is bloody good."

I don't see why. And I don't think anything will change until I reason that out.

My life has been cleansed off some wrong notions. People who I used to think were not that great, suddenly have become entities of unattainable stature. I see success in them. And I'm too egoistic to start believing that I'm seeing more failure than success in me. I'm not sure if my yardstick is good. But well, that is the one I use.

I've lived so long with my current "set" of beliefs that any change would require an insanely humongous change in my mental configuration. I don't think I'll be ready soon, 'coz

1) I don't think someone so egoistic as me, can reconcile with the apparent fact that a change is in order.
2) The way I think, I act and live is so dependent on the way I've conditioned my mind. The slightest change in my mental make-up might destroy me.

:-)

I can't see the rainbow. But I know its out there, hidden, shrouded beneath the clouds. This is the moment when I say my line.

I shall seek out thee. :-)

Miss Macavity-the pussy cat. part two.

2008-06-20T23:07:00.001+05:30

the saga continues.....

Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:32:52 PM): im back
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:32:57 PM): yeah
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:33:22 PM): hw is this thing wid her going?
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:33:26 PM): is it on, off?
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:33:28 PM): not bad
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:33:30 PM): r u over it?
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:33:32 PM): its not off.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:33:42 PM): so u do have sumone, u lying bastard!!!
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:33:42 PM): im kind of over it
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:33:45 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:33:48 PM): what
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:33:50 PM): im not on it
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:34:00 PM): thn wats ur prob?
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:34:12 PM): y r u raving at me? carry ur troubles whr they belong
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:34:20 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:34:23 PM): no !
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:34:26 PM): im serious
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:34:31 PM): i really am
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:34:52 PM): really?
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:34:55 PM): ok
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:34:57 PM): fine
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:35:10 PM): im juz trying to find other things to be concerned about
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:35:23 PM): alrite
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:35:30 PM): and wat exactly is my role here?
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:35:46 PM): you come in, everyone else goes out.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:36:09 PM): ok
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:36:41 PM): juz ok?
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:37:08 PM): i meant wat i sed earlier...get out of there..ur house, collg..everything
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:37:17 PM): n go sumplace nice
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:37:22 PM): like the beach or wateva
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:37:24 PM): at night
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:37:29 PM): how about ur heart?
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:37:51 PM): day n night.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:37:54 PM): its kinda difficult to make ur way there..i just stuck a no entry board there...
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:37:58 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:38:07 PM): its okay. i'll throw it in to the trash on my in
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:38:11 PM): way*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:38:13 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:38:22 PM): i wasnt kidding...
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:38:26 PM): srsly!!!
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:38:34 PM): abt the beach
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:38:36 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:38:37 PM): what makes u think i was do i not sound serious
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:39:07 PM): of course..u SOUND serious saying such ridiculous things!!!
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:39:20 PM): is this another way of coping wid ur probs?
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:40:00 PM): no it isnt.
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:40:28 PM): the problem with me is i dont want to sound extremely serious or too desp about anything i say. so i make it seem okay.
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:40:35 PM): and when i mean it people never know
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:40:38 PM): but if it really isnt
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:40:45 PM): wat does it matter wt it sounds like?
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:41:00 PM): it is serious.
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:41:30 PM): but i cant tell you how serious i am until i know you've taken off the boards and signs. coz i really dont wanna make a jackass of myself telling things.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:41:39 PM): wait a min
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:41:42 PM): yeah
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:42:23 PM): alrite-- tell me wateva u want to--ill take it srsly...
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:42:25 PM): fr nw
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:42:27 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:42:37 PM): hmm
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:43:03 PM): the problem is i know u are gonna take me srsly and i know u know how to talk ur way out of things without making it seem like u are doing it
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:43:17 PM):
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:43:40 PM): i was juz saying of the thousand people i know, there are like 15 i could find myself ok with.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:43:58 PM): 15!!!
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:44:00 PM): and of that 8 who are females and people who i could picture myself with.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:44:04 PM): u r luckier by far thn me
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:44:07 PM): no im not.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:44:07 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:44:12 PM): even more lucky!!!
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:44:35 PM): okay. im exaggerating. its 4, or wait. max five if u include the taxes.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:44:53 PM): taxes??
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:45:04 PM): and since i keep my options open
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:45:11 PM): no . that was me trying to be funny
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:45:28 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:45:33 PM): thnx fr letting me knw
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:45:42 PM): ok-- so u hav 4 ok GFs
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:45:45 PM): yeah. hmm.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:45:45 PM): so..?
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:45:47 PM): yeah.
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:45:51 PM): i dont.
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:45:58 PM): i lost the point somewhere in between.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:46:46 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:46:55 PM): i think u lost it ages ago
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:47:02 PM): thats funny
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:48:06 PM): i think so
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:48:16 PM): just scroll bk up n read wateva u were typing
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:48:17 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:48:25 PM): hmm...
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:48:27 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:48:35 PM): are u going to love me or not
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:49:00 PM): i told u hw i love u
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:49:01 PM): rem?
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:49:03 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:49:23 PM): u did?
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:49:24 PM): when?
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:50:18 PM): wen i feel likeages ao
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:50:26 PM): i sed i wud love u wen i feel like...
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:50:27 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:51:13 PM): why cant u get the "when i feel like" part off
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:51:38 PM): bcoz i happen to b gowri n kishore
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:51:50 PM): and anyway, u rnt in love wid me
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:51:51 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:51:55 PM): so, it doesnt matter
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:52:15 PM): wud it matter if im in love with u ?
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:52:46 PM): obviously..
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:52:47 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:52:52 PM): dont act so dumb
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:52:56 PM): it doesnt suit u either
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:53:06 PM): im not acting dumb. n that was not a dumb question
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:53:33 PM): im asking u wud it matter if i actually am in love with you. as in would it inspire a positive response
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:53:40 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:53:52 PM): it wud make a diff, sharan--nw its like u r just playing arnd
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:53:59 PM): and im giving u dismissive ans
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:54:24 PM): but if u were pining away fr me( ) then i wud have to ans differently
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:54:26 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:55:28 PM): differently wud mean what?
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:55:47 PM): tht qn doesnt arise at all, since u rnt in love wid me
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:55:55 PM): this conv is so meaninglesss!!!
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:55:56 PM): coz im waiting to know if u wud. ..coz honestly i cud fall in love with you. only if i knew u'd love me back too
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:56:12 PM): thts conditional love, it never works
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:56:13 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:56:28 PM): n im not in love wid u..ths fr sure; but i do love u sumtimes
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:57:45 PM): sharan?
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:57:52 PM): yeah
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:57:56 PM): im not asking u.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:58:18 PM): ok
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:58:20 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:58:59 PM): why the fuck do people love me ONLY sometimes. and trust me thats not the first time im hearing that
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:59:17 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:59:32 PM): nobody can love sumone always
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 4:59:34 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:59:37 PM): i can.
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 4:59:41 PM): im doing it
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 5:00:33 PM): u only think u do
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 5:01:35 PM): maybe. but it works for me. and till im proved wrong, its gonna stay the same
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 5:02:12 PM): yea..ok.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 5:02:18 PM): and i hate to say this, but ive gtg
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 5:02:24 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 5:02:25 PM): ill cya l8r .
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 5:02:27 PM): hopefully
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 5:02:30 PM): thought u shud be expecting this
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 5:02:31 PM): he he
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 5:02:32 PM): tonite
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 5:02:32 PM): yeah
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 5:02:34 PM): cya
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 5:02:35 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 5:02:36 PM): i wasnt
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 5:02:37 PM): tonite will do
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 5:02:39 PM): bye
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 5:02:40 PM): its okay. keep it
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:46:00 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:46:05 PM): chk my blog
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:46:07 PM): fast !
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:46:09 PM): still pissed off or btr?
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:46:13 PM): huh
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:46:13 PM): never better
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:46:15 PM): ok
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:52:16 PM): im reading
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:52:17 PM): wai
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:52:19 PM): t
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:52:22 PM): er its not a lot. okay.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:52:26 PM): lemme relive the whole evening
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:52:29 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:52:45 PM): yeah. it was good. i felt alive and like a guy
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:54:38 PM): reading it makes me feel alive too!!!
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:55:00 PM): sumtimes u r an unexpected gift frm above...
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:55:02 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:55:18 PM): always only if u wish to keep in touch
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:55:19 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:55:26 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:55:46 PM): im all messed up in my head...i no longer knw wt i wish fr!!!
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:55:56 PM): n y am i called Miss Macavity?
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:55:59 PM): i hate cats
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:56:02 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:56:29 PM): i dnt know. u make me think of english. english of 10th english text.
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:56:30 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:56:36 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:56:50 PM): yeah. its funny.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:56:51 PM): just this once, i dont mind being called a cat's name
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:56:55 PM): good.
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:57:14 PM): in fact im more than funny. im romantic too. if u wanted to know
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:58:35 PM): aha111
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:58:41 PM): ive had enuf of romance...
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:58:45 PM): really?
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:58:47 PM): with who
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:58:49 PM): i wud prefer sumthing else
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:59:09 PM): you mean "more" ?
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:59:14 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:59:16 PM): nope
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:59:19 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 6:59:40 PM): u've heard this one, naa?
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 6:59:49 PM): which one?
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:00:03 PM): love exists and its unconditional and eternal and heartbreakingly beautiful...but it isnt for u and me
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:00:05 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:00:11 PM): not together, not apart
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:00:23 PM): no i havnt. but itsnt inspiring to say the least.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:00:31 PM): its not
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:00:34 PM): oh then u've found another way to exist?
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:00:36 PM): reality is neva inspiring
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:00:41 PM): sure
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:00:51 PM): yeah.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:00:52 PM): widout love..or rather, in the quest fr a complete love
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:00:54 PM): i know
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:00:58 PM): tht i wud achieve sumday
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:01:12 PM): see im the smartest person u know possibly. why cant we be together
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:01:36 PM): u r the smartest person i knw?
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:01:40 PM): no way!!!
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:01:43 PM): shut up
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:01:45 PM): get lost.
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:01:49 PM): i am. its juz that u dont know.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:02:02 PM): moron...u've written...
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:02:04 PM): and hey again im not guilty if u hapen to know stepher hawking !
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:02:07 PM): "wow, wow gow"
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:02:12 PM): change tht to macavity
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:02:13 PM): gow is nt u !!
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:02:19 PM): i dont want to ans a whole lot of qns
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:02:25 PM): then hu is it?
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:02:48 PM): someone else
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:03:05 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:03:12 PM): do me a favor n change it
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:03:27 PM): shud i?
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:03:35 PM): okay alright. but it rhymes...wow gow
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:03:54 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:04:04 PM): didnt knw u were a budding poet
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:04:15 PM): er?
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:04:31 PM): u knw, wrying abt rhymes...
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:04:33 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:04:35 PM): im sry
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:04:38 PM): but ive gtg agn
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:04:46 PM): mom's gonna kill me
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:04:48 PM): yeah its alright. be sorry for urself:f
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:04:49 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:04:53 PM): come again later
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:04:54 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:05:00 PM): ill try not to
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:05:05 PM): no. please do.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:05:06 PM): GN
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:05:10 PM): cant take anymore of this in one day
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:05:13 PM): i'd be very much disappointed if u dont turn up.
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:05:16 PM): *smiley*
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:05:16 PM): i cud even send u messages
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:05:21 PM): *smiley*
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:05:27 PM): bye bye
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:05:30 PM): yeah bubye
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:05:30 PM): id like tht
Miss Macavity(6/20/2008 7:05:37 PM): just b careful abt the language
Sharan Suresh (6/20/2008 7:05:42 PM): yeah.

That's it for today.

Presented by "The painted pussies", a news broadcasting company.

Macavity-the pussy cat.

2008-06-20T16:31:00.004+05:30

Show Recent Messages (F3)

You currently appear offline to Miss Macavity.

Miss Macavity: hallo...
Sharan Suresh: hey hey hey
Sharan Suresh: nice that some one came finally
Miss Macavity: lol
Miss Macavity: u wanted just anyone?
Sharan Suresh: yeah
Sharan Suresh: juz about
Sharan Suresh: new sim?
Miss Macavity: yea..but BSNL
Miss Macavity: wats urs?
Sharan Suresh: why the but?
Sharan Suresh: wats mine what?
Sharan Suresh: airtel
Sharan Suresh: number?
Miss Macavity: yea
Miss Macavity: coz bsnl is damn costly
Sharan Suresh: 9746104835...i remember giving u my landline number a fwe eons ago. dont think u've put it to any use yet
Sharan Suresh: yeah except once when u had to know who else is going to ragam
Miss Macavity: this is just fr the record
Miss Macavity: ill giv u missed calls, n dont dare take any
Sharan Suresh: yeah. Macavity u forget, im not a fool
Miss Macavity: i had no such illusions
Sharan Suresh: good. finally a girl without illusions
Miss Macavity: oh
Sharan Suresh: ur results out?
Miss Macavity: not ofcially, no...
Miss Macavity: but i knw mine
Miss Macavity: 78
Sharan Suresh: thats low
Miss Macavity: no its not!
Miss Macavity: its by far my best
Miss Macavity: n i am more thn happy
Sharan Suresh: this is , let me remember, the 17th time im forced to feel "oh my world of liars and me"
Miss Macavity: huh?
Sharan Suresh: u shud be. of course. even my friends here who were expecting supples came out with flying colors.
Sharan Suresh: divine intervention voohooo
Miss Macavity: ohh
Miss Macavity: u knw urs?
Sharan Suresh: oh course ..when my turn came God fell sick and couldnt do any intervention. two without moderation
Miss Macavity: ohh
Miss Macavity: result officially ittu kazhinjo?
Sharan Suresh: nope.
Sharan Suresh: its unofficial. but still it works
Sharan Suresh: at least works good enough to burst my "im gonna get a job" dream bubbles.
Sharan Suresh: bloody kerala university
Miss Macavity: u will gt some job...most prolly software
Miss Macavity: but u will fr sure!!!
Sharan Suresh: yeah i've heard that before
Sharan Suresh: your ex-crush was caught playing at a bowling alley
Sharan Suresh: and with some other chics
Sharan Suresh: and he defintely is not jobles
Sharan Suresh: and u are attending on other people now
Sharan Suresh: so you can get lost
Miss Macavity: wait a minute, u bastard
Miss Macavity: hu is the ex-crush caught in a bowling alley ?
Miss Macavity: n hu am i attending nw>?
Miss Macavity: n is tht a joke or a quote?
Sharan Suresh: how would i know. ask ur conscience.
Miss Macavity: tht i am too dumb to understand?
Sharan Suresh: is that a quote?
Miss Macavity: u tell me
Sharan Suresh: you are dumb. everyone is.
Sharan Suresh: how am i supposed to tell u
Miss Macavity: sharan, wt did u mean?
Sharan Suresh: and why are u red. you are not hot by any standard
Sharan Suresh: i meant nothing.
Sharan Suresh: i'm stupid and im jobless and i've got two supples and i wasnt expecting such a lot. so I THINK i can afford to be this way for some time more !
Miss Macavity: fine
Miss Macavity: go ahead.
Miss Macavity: only, u r not inherently stupid
Sharan Suresh: no. the drive is gone.
Miss Macavity: u r BEING stupid nw
Sharan Suresh: yeah I am. so does that stop Barrack from farting during sex
Sharan Suresh: whats the point
Sharan Suresh: and I'd prefer instant replies
Sharan Suresh: at least "late" replies
Miss Macavity: then hold on fr a sec
Sharan Suresh: hold on? hold on? what do u thikn im doing anyway!
Miss Macavity: just shut up n wait a min till my time is devoted to u in its entirety
Miss Macavity: n dont try any wisecracks
Sharan Suresh: that sounds nice. that sounds like rachel in friends
Sharan Suresh: what does wisecrack mean?
Sharan Suresh: u make me feel stupid once more and i'll get lost
Miss Macavity: ok
Miss Macavity: nw shoot
Miss Macavity: no, wait
Miss Macavity: lemme finish
Miss Macavity: just coz uve two supplees doesnt mean ull b out on ur ass
Sharan Suresh: hey Macavity, let me for once mean something, how about coffee this evening. and maybe we could have dinner yoo.
Miss Macavity: this loser attitude doesnt suit u anymore than ur sentimental blogs do
Sharan Suresh: sentimental?
Sharan Suresh: did u find that sentimental?
Sharan Suresh: DID YOU !!
Miss Macavity: i didnt read the latest
Miss Macavity: a few blogs dwn, i read
Miss Macavity: hw abt
Miss Macavity: FUCK fck fuck fuck
Sharan Suresh: good. its never been sentimental. its been touching, its been sensitive. but never sentifuckingmental
Miss Macavity: tht one i did, n i must b the only person hu thinks tht is sentimental
Miss Macavity: but i do
Sharan Suresh: yeah it was not sentimental. its called taking out the frustration on non-living, incapable of beating you back html beings.
Sharan Suresh: or whatever.
Sharan Suresh: i could do with some more attention here !!
Miss Macavity: yea
Miss Macavity: its not my fault if the fone rings
Miss Macavity: i am here nw
Miss Macavity: fine
Sharan Suresh: its ur fault if the call is answered
Miss Macavity: btw, this is the nas to ur inv fr voffee
Miss Macavity: i shud love some coffee, even if its wid u
Sharan Suresh: okay. i've two questions. what is nas? and what is voffee?
Sharan Suresh: "even if" !!!!
Miss Macavity: nas is ans
Sharan Suresh: you dare !
Miss Macavity: and voffee is coffee
Miss Macavity: yes i do
Miss Macavity: but i cant
Sharan Suresh: no you dont
Miss Macavity: u knw i cant
Sharan Suresh: yeah i know you can't. you are as helpless as a kitten without claws or legs or even a tail in my presence.
Miss Macavity: just shut the fuck up
Sharan Suresh: now lets hear the kitten meow !!
Sharan Suresh: wow wow wow gow. u've improved
Miss Macavity: alrite
Miss Macavity: wats ur prob number one?
Sharan Suresh: i didn know u were so capable of , um this
Miss Macavity: i am
Sharan Suresh: number one ..is im single, and virgin. and i see people of my age marrying and losing it and getting their "virgin knot" broken or whatever. if thats the least i can say
Sharan Suresh: most?
Sharan Suresh: whatever ..u know it now.
Miss Macavity: cud u b marginally faster?
Sharan Suresh: faster with the typing or with the though process?
Miss Macavity: both, if u can handle that
Miss Macavity: i am single too
Sharan Suresh: latter i cant help. im juz born this way. genius.
Miss Macavity: and i am a virgin
Sharan Suresh: wow..
Miss Macavity: gr8
Sharan Suresh: could we
Miss Macavity: fine
Miss Macavity: no
Sharan Suresh: oh okay. shut up shut up shut up sharan
Miss Macavity: atleast not in ur present vein
Miss Macavity: sharan, u claim u r a virgin
Sharan Suresh: umm.i wonder why indian girls are only modern in showing their cleavage off. why not in other ways too
Sharan Suresh: i bloody well am
Miss Macavity: its not as if u havent ever wanked urself off...if u r frustrated, take it off
Miss Macavity: just bloody well handle it
Sharan Suresh: its not rewarding any more if u know what i mean. been doing ever since i knew i had the instrument that could do it
Miss Macavity: i am wondering y
Sharan Suresh: and i cant even imagine the kind of frustration u people must be carrying. u don even have anything to do
Sharan Suresh: oh you do. definitely you do. but im thinking it doesn work without external assistance
Miss Macavity: thnk u fr ur asumptions, mr. MCP..we rnt so helpless, or so frustrated
Miss Macavity: i think we r handling this much btr than sum othrs out thr
Sharan Suresh: MCP would be? My cock plucker?
Miss Macavity: no
Miss Macavity: male chauvinist pig
Sharan Suresh: oh.
Miss Macavity: and mind the language
Miss Macavity: my bro's hanging abt
Sharan Suresh: oh we could teach him a bit. sex education is very important. you must have seen in the t.v
Miss Macavity: he is teaching me, these days
Sharan Suresh: and females dont have a problem with accepting we are smarter.
Sharan Suresh: world is good
Miss Macavity: wat is ur othr problem?
Sharan Suresh: between would it make some sense if i use MCP suddenly in some other conversation. is it a recognized standard abbreviation?
Miss Macavity: yea
Miss Macavity: it is
Sharan Suresh: my other problem is I hate people. thats not a problem. but its rather confusing coz i wanna be true to myself and i cant be coz i find myself smiling at a few people though i hate them all .
Miss Macavity: n im surprised tht u dunno it
Sharan Suresh: and i shudnt be smiling at them if i hate them. conflicts
Miss Macavity: then y r u smiling?
Sharan Suresh: yeah i dont. we dont call our brothers MCPs
Miss Macavity: ok
Sharan Suresh: I don't know. im not so much of a freak yet. it takes time.
Miss Macavity: this is just the suffering phase...ull get ok in time
Sharan Suresh: and when im decided im gonna be a freak i see people who are happy and successful and all that and i cant take it. there has got to be a way out.
Miss Macavity: yea
Miss Macavity: find out y u arent happy or successful
Sharan Suresh: i know.
Miss Macavity: n then get out of wateva mess u r in nw
Sharan Suresh: first would definitely be im bloody horny and i still am a virgin after 20 years and i really cant understand why i had to be born in kerala. brazil was calling. i know . i so know
Sharan Suresh: im not caught in a room that i can step out of anytime i want.
Sharan Suresh: its like they say in the advt. i need to find the door in the wall and open it. getting the key would figure somewhere between those two steps
Sharan Suresh: and again...I deserve more attention than this !!
Miss Macavity: i am reading
Miss Macavity: idiot!!
Miss Macavity: n b4 u jump off the handle
Sharan Suresh: dont call me that. im called sharan. u can call me hot if u wish. definitely not idiot !
Miss Macavity: im reading wt u were typing
Miss Macavity: fine, Mr.Boil
Miss Macavity: is tht ok?
Miss Macavity: i like tht
Sharan Suresh: Boil? that doesnt sound sexy
Miss Macavity: it isnt
Sharan Suresh: call me something sexy
Miss Macavity: im calling U after all
Miss Macavity: then id have to call u gowri
Sharan Suresh: how about "Mr. Aaah oooh arrgggghh"
Sharan Suresh: that would definitely sound sexy
Miss Macavity: ooooh, thts defenitely sexy
Sharan Suresh: give me a call sometime and call me that ..i cud juz do it without spoiling my hands
Sharan Suresh: ah im talking dirty
Miss Macavity: so u are...
Sharan Suresh: yeah i know. isnt that sweet
Miss Macavity: y dont u go away fr a while
Miss Macavity: ??
Sharan Suresh: now i dont want to
Miss Macavity: y not?
Sharan Suresh: i want to be with you
Miss Macavity: online...
Sharan Suresh: Macavityyou know what. actually if you could juz sort out your attitude a bit and your whatever things a bit here and there you might actually stand a chance to get me.
Sharan Suresh: well. im talking real, though it appears online.
Miss Macavity: u knw. as much as i am dying to, i dont think i will...
Miss Macavity: yea..
Sharan Suresh: yeah i know u cant help it. dung heads are juz so much of dung. oh juz a metaphor.
Sharan Suresh: not about u of course not
Miss Macavity: i knew it wudnt be..
Miss Macavity: nw suppose u tell me which of my excrushes was caught in a bowling alley?
Sharan Suresh: how many did u have woman
Sharan Suresh: he used to be called sodium
Miss Macavity: ohh
Sharan Suresh: and he's got a life.
Miss Macavity: ok
Sharan Suresh: yeah.
Miss Macavity: i knw
Miss Macavity: hes doing fine widout me...
Miss Macavity: tht sucks
Sharan Suresh: yeah even me. but i could always do better with you.
Sharan Suresh: you know. i've always been subconsciously in love with you.
Sharan Suresh: dont think my subconscious could get together with you. umm.
Sharan Suresh: not again ...come back this instant!!
BUZZ!!!
Miss Macavity: sry!!
Miss Macavity: this bloody fone is more of a prob
Miss Macavity: alrite
Miss Macavity: u r subconsciously in love wid me?
Sharan Suresh: im going to murder you, cut your head around , pluck out your brain, roast it and eat it !
Miss Macavity: thts gr8 to hear
Miss Macavity: n prolly tht explains y i am always pissed off wen u tok to sruthi
Miss Macavity: it wont be tht tasty
Sharan Suresh: always?
Miss Macavity: last sunday, defenitely
Miss Macavity: im trying not to be
Sharan Suresh: i wish i knew you are not lying. you let me love you, and you are gonna wish you never had seen another man
Sharan Suresh: okay. im not exaggerating much
Miss Macavity: huh?
Sharan Suresh: brain is always tasty. its full of shit.
Miss Macavity: mine isnt
Sharan Suresh: never mind.
Miss Macavity: its cotton
Sharan Suresh: i like fluffy things.
Sharan Suresh: oh that brings other things into perspective. voohoo
Miss Macavity: try to stay away frm all this love crap, sharan
Miss Macavity: it will keep u rm going insane, even if it doesnt do any gud
Sharan Suresh: its not like i've always been out of it not to know
Miss Macavity: n excuse me fr another 5 mins while i make tea
Sharan Suresh: yeah i can give u 5 min.

You'd understand my condition when I confess that this was the most interesting thing I did this whole day.

I Love you Macavity.

wow

2008-06-20T08:09:00.000+05:30

Okay. So I just thought why not jot down all that has happened to me this last week.

First I broke up with a friend of mine. If you could see it the way I do she was more than just any friend. So all the more worse. By the way I believe there is no usage like "more worse". Who gives a damn anyway.

Two days later it was my big day. Moi was born at midnight on a 13th of june in 1988. Oh yeah, pretty auspicious. In fact I think I should tell you why at times I feel I am God.

13 somehow seems very strong and special and all that to me. So being born that day makes me feel I'm pretty important. Again, I've four cross lines on most of my fingers. Haven't seen that on anyone yet. So if you do have more than me you could say that and my argument would fail and I won't any longer be God. But as of now, lets just say I'm divine. :-)

Yeah so coming back to the chronology, the friend that I broke up with called me up at midnight to wish me. I wasn't exactly expecting that to happen 'coz I'd outrightly said "we don't need to talk anymore". But she did, and that was pretty special. So lets say, she just made that 20th b'day of mine awfully special.

Nothing worth saying happened until last day when I fell off my scooter and got a few "patchworks" as my friends here put it.

All this is crap. What needs to be said is I'm back with her again:-). I told her it doesnt have to be this way, all bitter. She called me up just before I was to go to the doctor. I wouldn't be exaggerating if I said I've never felt better. The doctor guy dressed the wounds and it didn't hurt. I know it wasn't exactly as if they cut off my leg or something. But it does hurt alright. So I tried to think of other things and all I could think of was my mother and her.

Im not being stupid if you thought so. I'm just being candid. :-D

For some reason, though I'm not like ever going to be telling someone "You know what, she likes me. buhahaha.", its always been a big thing to have her around. Somehow she manages to return when it matters most. That's good. Really good. Like chocolate :-)

PS: I just had to write about you again ;)

Can you fuck me?

2008-06-15T14:01:00.002+05:30

One question. The Zillion dollar one.

"Why does everyone have to fuck with me?"

Answers may be posted as comments. The best answer will win a completely no-fee charged fucking session with me. Guys, if any, will only be cock-sucked.

An If-else statement.

If "I sound like a pervert", go to your bathroom and wank off.

Else, go to the drawing room and wank off.

Fuck-all

2008-06-14T17:39:00.004+05:30

Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.
Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck
Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.
Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.
Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.
Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.

It doesn't make me feel all that better. But I guess that helps.

So if someone asks me "what is the one thing that can help you when you think no one can help you?"

I know the answer. Its "fuck". The fuck-all. The cure-all. The panacea.

Before Birthday

2008-06-12T22:46:00.003+05:30

Tonight as the old clock man drags his bloody hand on to that "12" I will have successfully completed 20 years of my life. I half-wish my tenure gets over soon. Obvious reasons any dejected-and-disappointed-with-life-guy would tell you. But more than I'm plain bored with my life, where it seems to be taking me doesn't look that green either. It's more than anything plain boredom. Absence of anything simulating. 20 years is not much, but in these 20 years most of my decisions went wrong. My inability to carry out a plan successfully. And I've to admit that most unwillingly I've got myself in girl-affair-etc tangles. When I completely realize I've made the wrong turn and comes all the way back to square one and even decides "not ever again", I see the right girl in front of me. And this has happened a few times, enough to let me realize that I'm most erroneous in my conclusions of who'd work best for me.

It sucks anyway 'coz some kind of a tailed angel keeps telling me I ought to be studying and not bothering about girls now.

This is probably the most boring post ever. It lacks everything. But still is another post. So well, wish me

Happy b'day to me
Happy b'day to me
Happy happy b'day to me.

"happy" doesn't sound bad coming in that song. All by itself, "happy" sounds funny.

Crawling in my belly

2008-06-08T22:19:00.004+05:30

What I found out today.

Do not eat a chicken burger, a cashew roll and two egg puffs back to back at half past two in the afternoon and follow that up with a generous swig of sprite.

If you do, you will in all likelihood enjoy an evening of ghastly regurgitations, acidity and extreme apathy towards food in any form.

This is where the above post ends, and since I've been writing extensively without any readers, and I've got another something to write and I don't want to have another post written without any comments for ages to come, I'm gonna write it along with this.

I saw three Hannibal Lector movies this evening "Hannibal", "Silence of the lambs" and "Red Dragon". Apart from understanding that Anthony Hopkins is one heck of an actor I also understood that I could likely end up being a cannibal. I provide the following findings in support of my theory.

I chew on my cheek skin, I've been doing that ever since I developed teeth and I think I like it. Some times it gets shredded, which is not a form that you can do anything with so I just swallow it or spit it out. But luckily some times it comes in chunks which I can play with inside my mouth making small balls out of it, rolling it on my tongue and the floor. Again I either swallow it or spit it out. So bringing it in a wider perspective, I think I like the taste of human flesh.

Maybe some day I will start eating humans and there won't be any shortage of food. I'm in India, the land of the finest and the most exotic, assorted human flesh. Hannibal preferred liver I presume. Personally I'm not a fan of liver. I'd rather have spleen. It sounds nice. Must taste good too. I think I'll like it. :-)

So umm ....dinner tonight?

Packing up

2008-06-08T18:13:00.004+05:30

You know. I was thinking what if I hadn't told you. If I hadn't told you I could have continued telling you lies.

I told you my grand design. The one I was working on. I told you I had saved some money for something and was now spending on other things since the thing I saved it for won't happen anymore.

There were those things I did without telling you. Things that didn't appear in me. Things I had to squeeze in to my routine when I was sure no one was watching.

Like driving to your home when you were not at home. Being around there.

Like waiting at the bus stop for you to come, only to know you took a different route. It was fun yeah.

Like asking you to come online 'coz I was feeling bored. I wonder if you'd have come had you really known why.

Like taking an extra copy of your board examination's mark list. Souvenirs.

Like feeling I was floating somewhere at Sahara over an oasis when you said you'd call.

Like restraining myself from messaging you every minute. Like stopping myself from messaging you for days at end to see if you'd drop a message asking why.

(Darn. Am I getting emotional? Sob sob. Wait. Let me sigh too. Yeah now. Read on.)

Like trying to tell you that you don't need to guard yourself against me. That the only place I can be is on your side.

Like, coming to terms with a few realities.

Like understanding that the person that I'm right now owes a lot to you. I've changed. And I learned it all from you. I'm a better person now. I see the light on your face when I talk to you. :-)

I should rename my blog something like "My eternally obsessed self" or something. I just might.

Finally !!

2008-06-07T19:18:00.005+05:30

Anonymous said...: "Your precious lil' thing is a free bird.The closer you approach it,farther it tries to distance itself.
Mention cages and it flies away.
Tell u what..its still a free bird"

-----------------Gentleman
c.H.a.O.s FrEaK said...: "and tell you what ...maybe you offered the wrong thing.

buy a whole world and throw open the door....maybe then, you'd have your world too."

If someone does understand this......let me know.

It'd not do much help. But it'd let me feel I'm still sane and that I'm still writing.

Between the climax went pretty ok. No earthquakes, and definitely no typhoons. Just a mild gust.

SMS

2008-06-07T18:33:00.000+05:30

Today evening, I'm gonna tell her.

Dead ends are fucking bad

2008-06-06T18:31:00.005+05:30

I can't be blamed for swearing, for thinking everything is happening in black and white or for thinking I'm totally fucked up.

I really shouldn't be.

Because it is just that fucking old way and nothing is changing. Absolutely nothing. I am told to be confident and go ahead. But why don't the world understand that I'm not. And I don't know what I need to change to change anything inside me. I'm not ready. I might never be. And I want the fucking world to understand that. There are things I'm not confident about. Things I know if I attempt I'll just make a jackass of myself. And they say I'm not trying.

I can't tell you that I love you mostly 'coz I know that you'll never love me, 'coz I know that you already like someone else and that I'm never gonna measure up to him. I remain pissed off with myself 18 hours of the day. I'm moody and I'm shady and I'm vulnerable and I want someone to help me. I can't plead you to help me 'coz I was not taught to plead. I won't. But I still want YOU to help me. Show me a way out. I want to be pampered and taken care of.

I'm not brave enough to tell the world that I can be soft, that I sometimes feel helpless.

And now I'm totally disgusted with myself. The person that I'm. The way that I'm. Ask me if If I've ever wished to be someone else and I'll say "all the time".

Let me be someone else. Let me be someone who'd have the guts to feel confident enough to tell her that he loves her, someone stronger, someone just better.

Ah You're beautiful

2008-05-28T23:44:00.002+05:30

My life is brilliant.

My life is brilliant
My love is pure.
I saw an angel.
Of that I'm sure.
She smiled at me on the subway.
She was with another man.
But I won't lose no sleep on that,
'Cause I've got a plan.

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.

Yes, she caught my eye,
As we walked on by.
She could see from my face that I was,
Flying high,
And I don't think that I'll see her again,
But we shared a moment that will last 'till the end.

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.

La la la la la la la la la

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
There must be an angel with a smile on her face,
When she thought up that I should be with you.
But it's time to face the truth,
I will never be with you.

James Blunt is quite a genius.

You see you really are beautiful. In fact you are the most beautiful creature on two legs I've seen. Your one smile can brighten up my darkest days. Most days remain dark 'coz I see you so rarely. You see I'm not the beard growing Devdas guy. I don't find myself unlucky not to have you. I'm lucky to have met you, to have spent those moments with you. And you've given me a million memories to cherish for a long time to come.

Ask me if its true love and I won't tell you it is; with all the longing for you, I still won't. I don't know. I probably won't until either I stop loving you or I die. And either way it'd be too late for you to make amends. So let's leave it there. There's nothing you can do even if you want to.

For reasons I do understand I know I can't be the person you are going to feel happy with. I've been myself with you and I've tried everything possible to bring that smile on your face whenever I felt you were down. But I guess mine lacked the magic a word of someone special enough could have made. I've to live with it, without regrets. I've done my best, I've jumped high in the crowd for you to notice. But I just was too far and too small for you to see. No regrets.
But I still wish you had seen me. :-) Life would have been a lot lot better for me.

What the world is made of

2008-05-28T09:08:00.002+05:30

I thought deep and hard and I felt it could be bread and butter. But honestly it can't be 'coz if it really was there would not have been people dying of hunger.

Then I thought it could be love. But if it was love people would not have been killing each other like I swat mosquitoes. No way it could be love.

When I thought about deeper and harder, I felt it could be kidneys and livers. But come on if that was the case there would not have been doctors stealing kidneys of unwary patients.

Now I really got thinking and felt it should be marks and gpa's. But even this theory had a huge glitch. If there was enough marks around I wouldn't have had to sulk when people ask me my gpa.

The point is, I finally realized, the world is made of sex and bikinis and money. I looked around and I found that life was just a mad race after sex or money. People who don't have money have sex all the time and make babies like a factory churning out Barbies. And people who have money, have got only another purpose in life. Sex. So really its sex and money that the world is made of. Yes and bikinis, Bikinis and babes go hand in hand. There can't be no babe without bikinis and there can be no bikini without babes. It's really confusing. Sex and money it is.

Blah

2008-05-23T22:05:00.003+05:30

If you ask me there is only one thing I'm really afraid of. Realizing some day that what you believed to be a very significant part of your life is going to be like just another thing. You come across it-you understand it-you love it-you leave it-you almost forget it. It becomes just another of those dusty distant memories you can barely recall.

But there is a beauty to it. If you set aside the dejection and the disappointment and look at the inside, there would be a thousand things you can smile about. Things you've gained and will never lose. Maybe you were never supposed to be a part of it. Maybe its for the best. There is a girl out there, I gotta tell this to. I've liked you a lot and its not been a smooth ride. But for every reason you gave me to dislike you, I've found a million reasons to like you more. And for some other reason, I'm never going to be the guy you are going to feel special with.

But if I'm going to get a chance, you bet I'm gonna smoke it. Lol.

My current playlist

Lifehouse- Whatever it takes
Natasha Beddingfield- Pocketful of sunshine
Coldplay- Violet Hill
Coldplay- Viva la Vida

Oh I'm a nice guy!!

2008-05-13T22:07:00.003+05:30

Okay, nothing special here. But still ought to be written.

I went for a ride till vattiyurkavu in the morning on my scooter. I stopped somewhere to ask for directions and there was this old lady standing nearby and she was going to the same place as well. She courageously agreed to climb on the back of my scooter and together we rode. It might not be anything great, but I felt good that I offered her the lift and that she accepted it.

She reminded me a great deal of my place, a sorta secluded village in Pandalam, of my great grandmother who passed away three years back and well, a lot of things that I like to remember. Simple pleasures perhaps.

And when I dropped her at the place, she said

"Valare upakaram mone. Monu nallathu varum."

And all I could do was smile...a big hearty smile. I was hearing something of that sort after ages, ages !! And it's good to know that you've done something good, something that you know for sure is good. 'Coz seriously most things I do, I remain confused if it was right or wrong on my part to do it. Feels good :-)

Clearing things up !!

2008-05-10T23:08:00.004+05:30

Let me just say one thing here ...and this gotta settle all the confusion that I think is in the air.

I'm so used to fucking things up that everything that I do, from the initial step towards fucking up, then the covering up phase which too fucks up things to a greater extent and then to the redemption step for that which again qualifies as just more of fucking up. That is a really fucked up sentence and since I really don't have the head or the time to go through it again and sort out the grammatical glitches, let me get to the point.

But I still gotta say this. I might be making things extremely disturbing for you, but that is not what I intend to do. And it's not because I'm just trying to do things the way I want and making up lame excuses for what I do. I seriously mean that I don't want to cause any trouble.

We've known each other for the last two and half years now and through all this time I've liked you and never been able to tell you that. And now you wouldn't believe that I actually had someone asking me

"da are all those posts about me?"

Yeah very funny indeed. I guess not giving a name can cause serious trouble. :-o

And I had half an hour of gracious explanation to do, first, how it is not her and someone else. and secondly, why I didn't love her !! :-o Gosh! I never knew I could seriously have a girl asking me "Why couldn't you love me?" . Oh don't misinterpret. She didn't have any ideas of adopting me and giving me a label and going around with me if it had been her. Just that she was too offended at the idea that I didn't find anything very likable about her. :-o

And I've this problem which I accept I do. I tend to get pretty deep in relations, so in the end whichever girl I take up for scrutiny, I know as much about her as I do about any other girl. And from their stand, I know quite a lot about them and am a good friend of their's. So obviously, anyone could have felt every post that I wrote was about her. My apologies. And I hope I won't have another female friend of mine asking me,

"Wasn't that about me, you sweet rascal?"

PS: wokay, not so sure about the "Sweet" part.

Seriously if one of you actually thinks that I could be stupid enough to write about someone who diligently reads my posts; hear me; go for a brain transplant.

My love-life, in ruins.

2008-05-10T20:34:00.003+05:30

The title is sarcastic. It's not at all in ruins. In fact its going great. :-)

But I gotta tell this first.

I'm going to write about myself 'coz this is my fucking blog and all the fuck-wits who are fed up reading my romantic bullshit can just cock off. This is for me to read and feel like a hopeless romantic. I'm pissed with myself for being just the way I despise. So your reasons, whatever they are, to be disgusted with me are justified. Now give me peace and go wank some off.

Now you spoiled my mood. Didn't you.

See, sweetie, this is one of the zillion reasons why I think I don't deserve you. I use a lot of "fuck", "cock", "asshole" etc etc and you are too much of angel to be able to put up with me. :-)

Okay, back to my love-life.

When I'm talking to her I just know in the back of my mind that she's going to go anytime. And it does bother me, 'coz I really want to be around her. You know, it's like I will die any moment and I don't want to lose another moment I can have with her. It makes me emotional, yes. And when I get emotional I write and I feel much better :-).

I know that she doesn't care for me more than I care for some mongrel in one of those dirty streets of Swaziland. I know I lose my appeal the minute I start exhibiting the traits of a normal human. She doesn't need to care, I know. But well, sometimes I do sit here and think how great things would have been for me if she really cared. You know, if she had really felt what I feel for her. And then I realize that would be an abomination of human relations 'coz well I'm damned for eternity and I ought not to be thinking of that possibility at all.

You see, ours is a more one-dimensional relation than a strand of hair. I wish it was not so:-). I can't help it I know. She can actually be a real dawg at times; the rudest things I ever heard came from her mouth, she has never really tried to know anything about me, and when I'm down and out and seek solace in her she normally tries to get away from me probably afraid she might ruin her time with me. And with all that, I still can't stop liking her. But she's never needed me. I know. So really, the chances of her having me beside her for even another minute are rather slim; which in itself enhances the thrill of it when I get to spend another minute with her. Yeah, I'm a selfish wretch. I know:-).

And if you are reading this(I've a feeling you would someday), I intend to tell you that I might not actually tell you all this ever. I know you wouldn't like me to tell you this. I hope you don't know I'm talking about you. I hope things remain the same. If someday I tell you this, don't feel bad. 'Coz it'd only be because you are my friend and I don't want to be without letting you know what the most special thing in my life is. :-)

Hail Assholism

2008-05-10T18:47:00.003+05:30

Yeah so this is this new thing I've given some thought and thought of sharing the findings with all you millions of people who keep reading my journal here. Yeah I'm not going to be sarcastic this evening.

So basically the theory is "Everyone's an asshole:-)" ....Don't forget the cute smile at the end, 'coz apparently any shit that you say with a smile on your face is taken in the "right" sense. (Which forms part of another theory that I'd hopefully bring unto you quite soon.)

The people that I call my foes, the ones I call friends and the ones I call great friends are all worthy of being bestowed on them "the order of asshole-hood". :-)

In fact this is not the first time I've realized this fact, but then I conveniently forget it when I need to be around people for my sake. I'm pretty sure I'd take that convenience again when I need to spend some time not so alone. :-) Yeah, opportunist. Again, I've no idea why people do things so absolutely intolerably selfish and act like they haven't even heard of that word. Assholes. OK, wrong. Ass-fucking-holes. That feels much better.

Just 'coz I'm this totally jobless guy who gets to sit at home alone from 7:30 in the morning to 8:30 in the evening and so obviously yearns for some company through the day, doesn't mean that people can say "no" when I ask them out and say "come" as and when they feel like going out. That's so not how it works my dear unfuckable morons !!

But yeah, don't you worry. I'm not cross with you. 'Coz well, lets see ..I need you idiots to keep me company and laugh around at times. And that's all there is to it. Affection, sincerity, honesty, what, love? and all that is just fancy words I learned in middle school. But, then it seemed so true, so real. And now I don't see that around me. All I see are assholes. And there are so many of them. I'm one too:-) And I fear what I see around is not encouraging any change.

Hail Assholism.

Credits Rolling

2008-05-08T22:43:00.005+05:30

Maybe it'd help you to know that I know you don't exactly like me the same way and that all this that is happening is not at all about owning you or making you like me. In fact its not even in the agenda . You know maybe I'm overdoing things here, but honestly I don't care how strange all this reads. I'd rather overdo it and make you realize a few things. I don't wanna regret not letting you know this.

A few good years down the lane I'd probably be not thinking about this anymore. I don't claim that I'll be thinking about you and only you for all my life. Which I'm sure you would understand. But I've found you. You know me. And this is not another of my jokes. I know you've a different world which I don't figure in; a place where you already have all the things you'd want. I even know why you are waiting, what you are waiting for and I wish everyone of your dreams come true. I'm not trying to be a very nice guy here. I know what I'm and I totally accept that I don't deserve you. And this is not melodramatic bullshit. I mean every word of it. You can walk when you wish to; just that I'd be behind and sort of hoping that you'd look back and wave your hand and smile:-). And just 'coz I know you, I'd say this too. I like you for what you are and in no way are you responsible for it. I'm not living inside a film, I won't stop liking you in one and a half hours. Maybe I'm talking a lot here. I'll make it even more simple 'coz I don't want you to feel wretched 'coz of this.

I like you. I know that you don't like me that way and I'm not asking you to like me. And still I do like you. I don't think that just 'coz I like you, I need to make you mine. It doesn't bother me to know that I can't. But if you still can just let me remain where I'm in your mind, whatever dingy corner it be ....that'd be nice. I know that sounded filmy, but well ...you know when I mean it I guess. I don't want to fade away just 'coz I'm telling you the truth. Fair right? I want you to believe what I'm saying even if it changes little. I know I can be quite impulsive like one good friend of mine pointed out to me. I might be; but what I feel for you is not just an impulse. And I honestly don't think I've wronged you.....I've only liked you :-)

Well maybe I could make it even simpler, I'm a devil, you are an angel, And I like you. :-)

Mushy me ...!

Hey and actually I've been writing about you for a long time now .....maybe you wanna know what I saw in you.

first, yeah ...the butterfly

then came, well.....the realization

then the obvious last resort, ....hope !!

and when everything is done and decided, against you, ......the confession

and some more left over confessions

and in the end I get to be the weird myself ......my friends, my alters.

(yeah....I'm the one with the birth mark, I'm stout(sorta) n I fear I'm balding :-o) Odd one.

ha, whatever. Hey, but I like you just the way I said I do :-)

Alright, I so 1435

2008-05-07T18:49:00.006+05:30

I don't seem to be able to write about anything else. Someone's been persistently telling me I'm a hopeless writer obsessed with romantic bullshit. Well...!! You'd know it from there.

I'll make it pretty clear here though that'd mean risking my position in the dark.

The writer in me has gone to pee and the person that I'm has taken over :-)

I like this one girl. I'd have said I love her but since that seems to be the one emotion that the billion couples in the world have for each other I won't call it that. Something tells me, she deserves better :-) And when I figure out what that term should be I'll let you know. For now let's call it "1435".

Yeah, that'd be the name of one of the posts I've written here, and that is for a reason.

http://destini-timed.blogspot.com/2008/03/thousand-hundred-and-forty-five.html

If you read this and you think this is about you, then it probably must be about you. I can't get enough of you. You might say I could have chosen not to like you. But then you know, it was never about a choice. I was not given a question and two choices,

"Do you want to like her?"

a) YES b) NO

And even if I was to be given the options, I'm not sure I'd have picked "no". You've to know this, there is only one person I'd get up at midnight from my bed and walk a million miles to get a candy for. And it is so totally you.

"And then, when I wanna tell her that I love her, that it really is not about making her mine or having her close to me throughout. That its just about what changes in me when she smiles; about what I feel when I hear she's down, about how desperate I become to hear her laugh again. About knowing myself that I'd get out of bed at midnight and walk a million miles to bring her a candy. About understanding that she will never be mine; that nothing I do will suffice and still being able to do all that. I don't call it sacrifice anymore. And I've not decided about calling it love yet"

It's all you. Totally, completely and beyond all the words can ever say. Call me immature, call me whatever you wanna call me, but I'm so not going to get over you. And all I wanna tell you is, do not ever, ever get yourself in to some trouble that would need someone to get you out of 'coz maybe by then you'd have picked your world and it might not have me in it, and it'd so not be worth being me if I can't get you out of it. Live good.

Vlad n Kilmer come to the party

2008-05-04T22:33:00.003+05:30

I'm in the midst of all these people and still I feel the loneliest ever. Nothing seems to touch me and I so want something, anything to touch me and go. Everything flies in to me and just when I close my eyes and submit myself to it, it glides past me and I'm left a virgin. And 'coz I've been pretty lonely tonight and needed someone to talk to, I made two new friends.

Vlad: I don't mind not talking to her. But when I think I've a chance of meeting her I take it, and I wait patiently for her to come to see her just to know that shes around. I see her and I talk to her. I expect her to say "bye" any moment and I don't have a problem with her going. After a while talking to her I feel deserted, thrown away, neglected, unwanted, insignificant, helpless, unnecessary, useless, meaningless and damned. Then she says "bye" and I'm left cold and numb, what I really feel and what I think I ought to be feeling, overlapping. I've left her behind not to make a claim ever but it still feels weird to talk to her. She is just so detached, suddenly.

Kilmer: It's such a failed cause. Its not failed really but she doesn't like you for what you are. And it's dumb trying to make people feel anything. You can't make them FEEL. And now at least you've realized these things. It's kind of sad but true, she doesn't need you. She obviously hasn't cared to know much about you and you've realized that it's gone on this long only 'coz you've been finding ways to talk.

Vlad: I know. And it doesn't make me mad. That's funny. But yeah, I'm disappointed. That's alright. I never expected to walk away with her by my side. I'm a ruin myself. I can't do anything more than just hope for it. I've no idea how this is going to end up. But it feels just that way. I can't go back and erase all the things I've done and become a nice guy again. I'd lost it even before I got to it.

Kilmer: Take a smoke bub. Float.

Me: "For a change it was nice hearing out a guy with love problems. yeah right..!! "

Vlad: He has no idea, has he? I've got a birth mark below my lower lip.

Kilmer: He's out. Gone. I'm stout and we both are balding. Help him up.

I rise and I walk, I hear Floyd playing

"I took a heavenly ride through our silence
I knew the moment had arrived
For killing the past and coming back to life

I took a heavenly ride through our silence
I knew the waiting had begun
And I headed straight..into the shining sun"

Im bored. So I wrote.

2008-05-04T14:59:00.002+05:30

My friend Ganesh is a wonderful guy ....he gave me this word "random" and since the day he tagged me I can't stop writing random. So here goes nothing

1. The most boring word in the world is "routine"; "love" comes a close second due to incessant usage.

2. I've wanted a pair of decent ear-phones for ages now and I can't get it. Either there is none available or I've no money with me, always.

3. For no conceivable reason I keep running in to people who first make my life extra-ordinary and later ultra-ordinary

4. I'm a better person than I usually think I am. And glad to know that :-)

5. I need to take to dope I think ...but I find it extremely disgusting to puke all over. :-(

6. I live on songs. They take me somewhere I love being at.

7. I don't love everything that I do. In fact I hate most things that I do.

8. I'm in front of my computer most of the times and it's not 'coz I'm addicted to it. Its just 'coz I'm too bored of everything else.

9. I've lost things before and have regretted losing them. And now I've just lost the most precious of all that and I don't really regret it.

10. I'm not weird in the usual sense of the word. I don't grow hair and walk around like a freak. But I'm weird all the same. And its not a bad way to be. Maybe, lets say, just different.

Now, I'm going random.

2008-05-03T15:39:00.003+05:30

I'm sitting pretty blank. There are no new confusions; no disturbing thoughts playing see-saw in my mind. It's a funny thing, more of an irony I guess. When I sit plain without any confusions without anything disturbing me, without feeling like tearing myself apart; life goes so damn slow and so unhappening and so bloody boring, sort of. And when I do feel like breaking the furniture and blowing up the world I just wanna get out of it; sort it out, take it easy.

It's like I know two ways of existing, and they both are simply not worth living. Right now, at 20, I know and people tell me anyway that I ought to be studying; constructing a future for myself. And when I think about love and romance and having a girlfriend something tells me from inside that I'm desperately trying to construct a temporary relief camp for myself, to simply stop thinking about a future that seems unlikely to be fabulous or anything similar. Even when I'm so convinced that I love this girl and almost everything and anything seems too small a price to pay to bring that smile on her face; when I'm so convinced that I've finally been blessed to have ever got a glimpse of her, to have shared those moments with her, to have made those memories.....Something tells me I could be wrong. That maybe I'm not grown enough to understand what's real and what is surreal. If that is true, surreal isn't all that bad then.

And then, when I wanna tell her that I love her, that it really is not about making her mine or having her close to me throughout. That its just about what changes in me when she smiles; about what I feel when I hear she's down, about how desperate I become to hear her laugh again. About knowing myself that I'd get out of bed at midnight and walk a million miles to bring her a candy. About understanding that she will never be mine; that nothing I do will suffice and still being able to do all that. I don't call it sacrifice anymore. And I've not decided about calling it love yet.

Getting Tagged

2008-04-20T21:46:00.003+05:30

Alright ......I got tagged. Here goes:

8 random things/facts whatever I can think of

1) I believe I can be a total pervert.

2) I'm fed up of eating idli and sambhar and can't stand the taste of one more idli.

3) I've a huge weakness for the opposite sex. Well, not all. Some of them gets me interested and when I start going I kinda gets the relation to a high. But it invariably falls apart quite soon.

4) I've an uncanny knack of getting people to pour out their darkest secrets.

5) I get extremely obsessed with certain things and its something I cant really help. It's extremely hard for me to accept that I go wrong with people and I usually try to justify myself.

6) If someone has got me completely wrong and they realize it a lot later, it's only 'coz I don't care to tell them. If you piss me off, I'll ask you to "fuck off" in your face; and if I think you simply got me wrong, I wouldn't bother to correct you.

7) I hate my life most times 'coz I think I've taken a lot of wrong decisions in my life but I guess thats how it is with everyone.

8)And lastly, I've mostly written about me the individual here, 'coz I'm in that kinda mood. Nothing interests me forever. I'm a gemini and I'm myself all the time.

I don't think I can tag anyone here, I'm not in to the circuit really so well. Thank you, Ganesh for the tag; I don't think I wrote random stuff; but this is all what I could think of now. Fuck my mind.

Figuring things out ....finally.

2008-04-19T19:55:00.002+05:30

I've realized a few things.

I don't have many friends and I never was bothered 'coz I still had the few I got. But then later, I realized that even they aren't really the people I could count on. Not a matter of expecting things, mind you. Just, You know, even not the ones I could call up and say

"da, ellam adichu kitti."

Yeah, and I also came to realize that I'm a very sensitive sorta guy. I really never knew I was. Thank you Unni.

I thank God that I've such a feeble memory. I really can forget things fast.

2008-04-19T16:47:00.002+05:30

Today's fortune: Your present plans are going to succeed

I've no fucking idea what Orkut means by that.

I've two present plans;

If one succeeds I'll fucking blow up the world and there will no longer be any civilization. Is Osama going to call me up and ask me to do the honors? ..Oh Yeah, humor me. I'm not kidding.

If the other one does.....fuck no...!! I left that plan some time ago. Yeah so it comes down to me blowing up the world. Give me the ammo and I swear I fucking will.

This is what I'm. Nothing else.

2008-04-19T16:25:00.003+05:30

I'm feeling wretched. So completely disgusted with myself for all the things that I feel and for all the things that I want to do but cannot. I'm obsessed with some things that aren't mine. And every living minute I get reminded of that. Still, however fucking much I try to leave it I can't. I find myself running to it every time unable to curb my fucked up feelings. Losing my bearings and feeling all the hatred in the world for myself.

I wish I could bomb my mind, get thrown away miles listening to "Crawling" and see everything around me in slow motion. Die. Yeah fuck. I'm just another frustrated little peep.

I feel wretched 'coz people tell me that I'm a miserable cheat. No I feel wretched 'coz I've done things that I try to escape from the guilt every moment of my life. I'm a fucked up soul. I've a good family; but I myself am the last thing I'd have had in my family. Yes, I'm a scumbag and I realize it every fucking miserable moment of my life. I hate a lot of creeps out there for different reasons but I can't tell them that 'coz If I tell them I'd lose them and I don't want to sit alone and think of all the shit that I'm in and find myself more fucking, fucking, fucking pathetic than ever.

I wish I could cleanse the world of all of them and change my life. My pathetic vocabulary is not even letting me say what I want to say....I want to scream out. I want to lock myself up in a room and hear the loudest of noises; Until my fucked up ear drums split. I want you to know that I'm a fucking pervert and that I try to be nice all the time 'coz I don't want to fucking miss you in my life. And then, I sit back and realize that I'm anyway not going to get you and so I sayl yeah fuck some shit up for me. Why should I care? I want to be a paid gigolo and fuck every whore who comes my way. Does that change anything? It fucking does not.

Nothing's ever going to change. I'm caught in this miserable skin of mine and I can't fucking get out of it. I wish.....I so fucking wish I could blow up the world. Do me a favor; Care me a FUCK ....!!

I gotta be a poet!!

2008-04-18T21:41:00.002+05:30

I'm on my arm chair;
Feeling pretty bare;
For I've been wondering what;
To give you on your big day.

I could give you a rose; redder than red
but ah, it'd wilt before your face.
I could bring you the stars; but alas!
They'd glow dark; whine you are more divine.

So I sit wondering what it'd be.
And I ask my heart what it should be.
It doesn't answer; but I'd found it.
And you'll get your present today.

I reach you with a smile on my face;
With a red box in my hand;
You kiss me in; and undo the lace,
My heart lies inside; beating, still for you.

Touch

2008-04-16T17:01:00.002+05:30

I've always been waiting,
close at your shores,
for a touch now and then,
You came; touched me.

But the million others on the shores,
were touched too.
And my heart lies broken at your shores,
it bleeds love, n now;
you've turned crimson.

Eventually I'll melt away,
in your vastness, unfound.
But I've touched you, yeah.
Like no one else did.

You can cure me;
but I wouldn't want you to.
Let me touch you this way;
Like no one else can.

I chose You

2008-04-16T16:09:00.003+05:30

When you go after something having made sure there is nothing else you are going to settle with, something in your mind pops the question,

"If you don't get it, what then?"

And then you tell yourself that, you will.

Hope, is a terrible thing to have.

Just like Heaven

2008-04-03T20:22:00.003+05:30

I've been playing in the sand for so long. It's spread out beneath me, everywhere. I've lost myself here. All I can see is the sand in every direction. I see no by roads to escape.

I never tried to see any.

I ventured in to its midst by chance; and later kept walking in deeper; by choice. There was no one around. I had it all to myself. And I had no reason to believe I couldn't make it mine. So I kept on walking. So long that finally I had nothing but the sand around me and it was heaven. The one I had seen a million times before in my dreams.

Then one day I was playing in the sand, building castles and smiling when I heard a laughter from further deep. I looked in to its direction and saw a figure; it was a rapture. One of someone who knew he had no further to go.

The sand was in the air, the breeze helping it conjure up the most fantastic of shapes. It seemed to have life and it was playing with him; happily and content. And so far, I never had the breeze blowing my way......I kept playing; hoping some day I'll reach just as far. And then; the breeze would blow and the sand would rise up in delight; blanket me; dance around me; joyous; and Heaven........ would be mine.

I kept walking on; believing it can't be far away. The figure was still in sight and the sand would now fall back and then rise again around him. He was caught in a moment; of divinity and it didn't seem to pass him. I trudged on. I had walked quite a long distance and looked up to see how far I still had to go. I saw him. He was still a picture of mirth.

..........And he was just as far as I had seen him before.

I knelt down; looked at the sand. Bringing down my finger I began writing my name in the sand. With every next letter I wrote the previous one faded off. The breeze had come; and it was blowing across me. Further still, She was still in the air; building around him the heaven he had been seeking.

I dug my palms in to the sand and brought them up clasping my fingers; and for a moment it was inside my palms. Before I could smile, I felt the trickle between my fingers. It was slipping and there was nothing I could do. I clasped them harder and the trickle broke in to a frenzied flow. I kept them locked for a long time after the flow had ceased, and there was nothing left in my palm; save the few grains. I knew I couldn't ever make it mine, not by my choice. Ever.

I walked on; the last few grains sticking to my palm. To be kept mine; forever. Precious. Priceless.

Tagged ..!!

2008-04-03T19:57:00.003+05:30

1. LAST MOVIE YOU SAW IN A THEATRE
If I could remember it.

2. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING?
None.

3. FAVORITE BOARD GAME
Business. The indianized version of a more popular game.

4. FAVORITE MAGAZINE
Balarama. Obviously !

5. FAVORITE SMELLS
Petrol, anything fried and edible.

6. FAVORITE SOUND
The IM alert sound

7. WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD
When you fail and you know there aint no second chances.

8. WHAT'S THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE UP?
What I dreamed of.

9. FAVORITE FAST FOOD PLACE
KFC. Bingo. Been there once and loved it.

10. FUTURE CHILD'S NAME
i'd probably keep it simple. Maybe, "1", "2" or "3"

11. FINISH THIS STATEMENT "IF I HAD A LOT OF MONEY I'D..."
I'd go to antartica with a part of the sum and burn the rest there and fight the cold.

12. DO YOU DRIVE FAST?
I can push a kinetic 4s to the limit. Let me get a license first.

13. DO YOU SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL?
Lol. No. I've far more utility than with a stuffed non-living thing.

14. STORMS - COOL OR SCARY
Depends on who gets caught in the eye of the storm.

15. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CAR?
Don't remember. A maruti 1000 I think. About the size of my palm.

16. FAVORITE DRINK
Real Juice.

17. FINISH THIS STATEMENT "IF I HAD THE TIME I WOULD..."
If I had the time I'd have paid Jessica Alba a visit and do something productive.

18. DO YOU EAT THE STEMS ON BROCCOLI?
Only heard of them.

19. IF YOU COULD DYE YOUR HAIR ANY COLOUR, WHAT WOULD BE YOUR CHOICE?
Color it purple.

20. NAME ALL THE CITIES/TOWNS YOU'VE LIVED IN
Pandalam. Calcutta. Trivandrum.

21. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH
Cricket. Tennis. Can't pick one over another.

22. ONE NICE THING ABOUT THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU
If "webster's" stop making dictionaries, I'd go to him.

23. WHAT'S UNDER YOUR BED?
None of your concern.

24. WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE BORN AS YOURSELF AGAIN?
Let me see if something better turns up as I live on. Wd give an answer then.

25. MORNING PERSON OR NIGHT OWL?
Neither.

26. OVER EASY OR SUNNY SIDE UP
What does it mean? I know neither.

27. FAVORITE PLACE TO RELAX
Anywhere I choose.

28. FAVORITE PIE
American Pie 1.

29. FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR
Any goes. Vanilla doesn't.
30. OF ALL THE PEOPLE YOU TAGGED THIS TO, WHO'S MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND FIRST?
Haven't tagged anyone. SO I guess no ones gonna respond...!!

The Ragam '08 chronicle

2008-03-30T22:13:00.003+05:30

It's hard to explain, but we got so royally screwed at Ragam '08.

They host it, they participate and they make sure only they get the prizes.

That's one way of hosting a cultural fest when you don't have enough funds to give away prizes.

Oh yeah, they suck at what they do. Bellow that out.

Let's start with "What's the good word"

-Every contest I've ever seen has this rule that not more than a stipulated number of teams shall be chosen in to the finals from the same college or university. And at Ragam '08, all the six finalists of "What's the good word" bear the same address. NIT-C. Kudos to 'em.

That's something Im gonna keep personal for some time.

Then there came the solo dance contest,

-there was this japaneese sumo wrestler on stage showcasing what was explained to us as "folk dance". He had the weirdest costume ever and had lumps of useless mass playing pendulum every time the guy moved his body. Booes were innumberable and swearings were more than innumerable. The guy walked off with the third prize. Some body, WTF !!

Of course the mime can't be left out

-The C.E.T team did mime, and they did it well. (the reader is requested to over look the fact that yours truly is a cetian too, which part hasn't played in the forming of this judgment). But they used pre-recorded human voices in the background and thus got disqualified, for the LOVE OF GOD!!

And the team that had guys smiling wide showing all happydent teeth, which in fact is a disqualifiable (if so a word exists, and im too busy trying to finish this one to go search and see if there does) thing to do, got the first place. For the LOVE OF THE GOD OF GODS!!!

C.E.T ians were hunted down in a spider's den by all the slimy stinking spiders of the whole frigging world.

YEAH RIGHT.

Back to square one

2008-03-23T22:05:00.004+05:30

Some time back we met, quite uneventfully. He was the bright kid who was sort of having a rough time with something. I was having a tough time with the same too, but at least I didn't let my expectations get the better of me. He was, on the other hand, weighed down by expectations. Quite honestly, he was a performer and he couldn't afford to under-perform.

The tough times didn't seem to be wearing off. It was holding stead and he was tiring; mine were finally peeling off.

But we were on good terms. I liked him for the person he was, a total gentleman. His times were just as bad and he didn't do better than me. I felt sorry for him; unknowing that soon the coin will flip.

And then he was gone, but I never forgot him. I knew we had to have a story. He stood by the boundaries of my conscious for a long time, as if waiting for his moment, quite sure he was to have it someday. Somehow, I used to run in to him every now and then just as his memories were beginning to fade a wee bit. As though, I was not supposed to forget he was around.

Then one fine day, he was back in my life; and I couldn't have found him a more enviable role to play. He was destined to deny me one of the very few things I hold precious. It was his, and I was with him when he was silently making it his, before my very eyes. I was there watching like a puppet oblivious that one day I'd yearn for it. And still, I can't find a reason to hate him; nor find an urge huge enough make a desperate attempt to have it. I know it is just as safe with him as it is with me. If, only safer. And he, is a better person than I am. I don't know him better than I know you, whoever you are. But if it could speak, it'd have told me it trusts him. So, I do.

I know I've to move away from it and leave it to him. Holding on won't suffice. It has never been mine and probably, never will. I'm not sure what I feel. If it's the disappointment, or just pure stoic acceptance of what is real, or peace and joy that its in safe hands. Or, if all of that, each filling my heart in turn like the colors that fill the screen in a cinema. All I'd ever know is deep within I'd still wish it was mine.

Moi, Calvin, Auto and the College bus.

2008-03-19T19:13:00.009+05:30

And the four stroke two cylinder engine hushed. I got off it and walked to the kawdiar bus stop. I had the ton heavy "Industrial Management: O.P Khanna" text in my cloth bag and it was perilously hanging by the edge of my shoulder and at times I could swear I heard something from inside the bag,

"Muhahaha ....!! Give me another jerk and I will mine the ground below straight to Hell and I'm not leaving you behind !!"

The Khanna guy was bloody pissed off with the way I'd treated him the previous night. Understandable.

And while I was prodding along I called up Calvin and asked if he had any plans to catch the college bus. The guy he is, he'd miss it 9 of 10 times. Bloody punctual I must say. He said he'll be down there any time but since I was so used to him "keeping time" n "keeping word" I decided I'd wait at the bus stop. And so I did.

Standing at the Kawdiar bus stop at 8:10 in the morning has its own distinct advantages, I found out. My cornea, (yeah, the little black semi-orb like thing that keeps wading in the white egg white sorta yucky thing) was acting like a Raster Scan. (Side to side rapidly, "ah chic";"there goes another"; "ah, ooh, aaah" , so on and so forth). Between if Raster Scan didn't make any sense to you, that's probably because you've not been studying your CAD lessons. (Yeah. I studied !! SO? Don't give me the look you panna patty!!).

And so I waited. There was no sign of Calvin and it wasn't surprising given his track record. The bus came finally, Calvin didn't. I messaged him that he missed the bus and got in to the bus.
.....And just when I did, I had this insane thought that maybe Calvin was waiting at the junction thinking I was on my scooter. (Don't scroll back and see anything. I told you, it was an insane idea!!). While all this whirlwind and hurricane and tornadoes were happening in my mind someone in the bus asked,

"paditham enthayeda?"

I asked him to wait. I looked up; at him; at my wrist which had no watch; outside; all at random, and jumped out of the bus. (yeah insane again....so!!) Oh and I think the poor soul was still waiting for my answer. Never mind.

I walked back to Calvin's place and saw him trying to barge in to an auto. I got in too and the auto driver had a great sense of humor. I barely stopped tears from flooding down my eye's sluice gates. (*beep*). And so, we were chasing the college bus in a rickety auto with a driver who had the sense of humor of a dead dodo.

The guy told us about the ATM card that he got from the rear seat of his auto after the last ride and was asking us how to return it and all. We told him several ways to surrender it at the bank and I could say he wasn't genuinely interested at the idea. Nevertheless he was lecturing us on how he wouldn't ever try to get any cash from it, because bad money always goes fast too. And besides, you might develop cancer, suffer a broken arm, or leg or arms or legs as and when God finds time. He even told us that he doesn't need anyone else' money and hard earned money is what he'd ever touch(I'm sure he didn't dare say whose hard earned money!!). At various points he asked us,

"aa card number undenkile kashu edukan patu alle? "
to which we said, "yeah" and exchanged blank expressions.

and, other information sake queries like,

"ithu ittu nokiyal kitathilanu thonunu. aa sthree vere etho carda upayogiche"
an "hmm" escaped my throat; Calvin thought it best not to take that luxury.

Finally when we were nearing the pattom junction where we thought we'd finally get the bus, the auto driver was asking us to get "20 rs" ready, for a trip that would normally cost "15 rs". We didn't raise any objections since catching the bus was the prime priority.

With broken hearts we saw the lights go green and the bus taking off to its next stop; and worse still, it conveniently changed to red by the time our three-wheeler jumbo jet reached the junction. Calvin, like always, thinks on his feet. He proposed the idea and the next moment I was on the phone with Hobbes.

"da aliya somehow bus avide ethumbo drivernodu wait cheyan para. tell him, randu kaalu vayyatha alkaar varunundennu."

"eh? enthonnu...ni ipo evide ethi. njan etho parayana?"

"da patttiiii, juz tell him. wait cheyan para, randu per-kalu vayya-pattom ethi-ipo ethum. paranju vandi pidichidedaa"

The lights turned green, and our auto driver raised the fare; "get 25 ready". At this point Calvin said,

"chettooo, cancer...cancer. remember?"

Like we planned, we saw the bus at the LIC bus stop, waiting patiently for the "kaalu vayyatha randu kuttikal". The auto driver thought it was the opportune moment to show his free wheely skills and did some sudden braking and other "Variety fancy items" and all the time I was sincerely hoping that we don't become "kaalu vayyatha kuttikal" for real. The auto came to a halt in classic filmy style, across the road and across the bus. The 25 rs had gone in to his pocket before any of us two could say "cancer cancer" again.

The college bus driver watched with an expression that ranged from sympathy-shock-bewilderment-anger to pure uncontrolled rage that took a verbal form and flew out from his mouth unrestrained, with a flow that I had previously only associated with the Idukki dam. We ran, yeah, the "kaalu vayyatha kuttikal" ran like competing for a one-night stand with Jessica Alba; We got in to the bus finally. Didn't forget to thank Hobbes and most importantly, had the last laugh.

A toast, to Eternity n My insane mind

2008-03-12T16:53:00.004+05:30

There aren't many things that we don't take for granted. I just found another something that I won't ever take for granted.

It's this intangible butterfly in an ethereal shade of white, heavenly and enigmatic. Spreading joy everywhere it goes; it plays around me never letting me arrest my sight on it-never letting me comprehend it; as if its existence depends upon being mystic.

Every passing second that I feel its presence around me, I feel lucky. Lucky that I earned another moment to be around it. I feel so happy that I've not squandered it away; that I'm still holding on. How long would not be a matter of choice; it'd be a matter of time and I hope forever be its measure.

The Girl Who Loved To Smile

2008-03-09T07:57:00.004+05:30

And she sat there, right in the middle of the rug, the soft woolen tickling her gentle feet. Every time she saw the lightning gleam past her window curtains she'd draw her legs closer, adjusting her skirt frill to completely cover any kind of opening between it and the rug. It made her feel secure, safe from the unruly monsoon.

At a corner of the room a kerosene lamp flickered, throwing scarce amounts of light over the area. She knew it could go out any moment but her eyes still gleamed with the last reserves of hope she had. She always knew how to smile; she was safe in the confines of her home. And outside, beyond the comfort of her little sand home it was a wild world. It rained whole years and the skies were perpetually dark. The only sound that could be heard was the rumbling of the thunder and the only light that came was from Jupiter's fury. She lived in constant fear, and the world outside was a dangerous place to go. But inside, it was her world. Whenever she felt safe beyond any harm, she'd dance to her own tunes and she'd sing her songs and smile and laugh. And whenever she smiled or laughed she didn't worry about the storm and the thunder; yet she knew it was always out there. And she sat inside, safe within the quarters of her home, believing it was always raining and thundering outside, hoping and praying that the sand walls that she built don't give away.

Outside, the sun shone bright and the children played on the beach, knowing that life couldn't be better; and it didn't always rain there and it didn't always thunder. There was so much beauty around to be seen.

And it still rained and stormed outside the sand home of the girl, who loved to smile.

Thousand Four Hundred and Thirty-five.

2008-03-01T16:29:00.008+05:30

One thousand four hundred and thirty-five....

I was there, sitting on the ledge with my bare feet in the water. I watched the ripples play around my feet in the soft breeze. Straight ahead the sun was sinking, only to rise again and it'd be morning again and the birds would chirp again. It wasn't death, it was only the beginning of re-birth. And the transition was an almost ostentatious display of nature's finesse. You could fake it on canvass, but produce nothing even remotely astonishing as itself. Nature was alive and kicking.

The vast expanse of the shore was bordered on this side by the row of hotels that had sprung up to cash in on the huge flux of tourists. And there, where the sea met the land I saw them. I saw them playing on the shore like little children. He was chasing her one instant and she'd run. She'd run very fast. And when he gets closer, (and he always did) she'd stretch herself further away from him and finally when he gets his hand on her they'd fall in a heap and roll over and laugh uncontrollably. The dozens and more eyes that were on them didn't seem to perturb them. They were careless and they were free, like the birds in the sky. The whole world and her put side by side he'd have chosen her and she'd have chosen him in a shepherd's robes with all the princes in the world waiting to kiss her hand.

I stared at them, jealous of their freedom, envious of their only possessions.

One thousand four hundred .....I had lost count. There were more than I could count in a life time. But I knew I wouldn't need to count another. I had found it. A thousand four hundred and thirty- five.

I looked at the pair again. She looked at me and she was smiling. I knew her.
And as he turned around, the sun flooded his face with a thousand colors. His was a familiar face. I looked at myself, and smiled.

When the dice rolls seVen

2008-02-25T21:35:00.004+05:30

It's been said before, and its being said again.

I'm mad.

Due to unavoidable scrutiny I'm forced to say this is a work of fiction and any character bearing resemblance to anyone male or female is purely coincidental and not intended.

Over the last few days a few moments that I've lived, a few words that I've heard have caught my imagination like nothing else.

They are caught in a whirlpool inside my mind and have been going round and round for some time now and I see no purpose for it. I've been rewinding these incidents, those few moments preserved in my memory like insects in amber. They are there. Just there, for no particular reason. But they fascinate me.

It was the eve of the birthday of a friend of mine and I thought of doing something to make her happy. Just that. I cant hypnotize myself and say what my subconscious was thinking then. But, yeah, just that. Too see someone very happy because of me. I had a very good friend of mine with me throughout the planning and the eventual carrying out of the plan. And almost bewildered at what "pains"( in inverted coz it wasn't at all anything close to being annoying or irritating. I enjoyed it right through) I was taking for someone that I had met something like two months before, he remarked almost stoically

"I wouldn't do all this for my girlfriend, honestly."

I was riding my scooter then and he was pillion. I heard it, and the instant I heard it, I felt the sticky brown liquid flowing down over my ears, my eyes, all over and around me and soon I couldn't move. He was saying it again and again and again. And I was listening to it again and again and again. Hold on, I still am.

It isn't as if I felt no sudden surge of my male instincts, but I kept knowing that it's straight and simple. I want to do this and I'm doing it. And I really couldn't see why there had to be such a fuss created. But I felt glad he said that. He wouldn't do it for his girlfriend.

And I'm glad it all turned out fine. Looking back, frankly I don't see too many days like that. It's a wonderful feeling when you know you've done something and made it as perfect as possible. And it's a feeling close to ecstasy when you roll the dice asking for seven and you get seven.

Good Day all. My day has already been made.

Goin blank is never easy ....!!

2008-01-29T18:09:00.000+05:30

I once included among the things that I can't live without, this blog.

Times have changed and I no longer feel the urge to write. Disturbing, when it strikes me that it is not because I think I've written enough or that I'm satiated. I can't find the words and groping inside the mind searching for words to describe the thought process isn't the sign of an inspired writer. And that, I no longer am.

I've been trying to write something for some days now and quite clearly, I've not been able to write as much as a paragraph of, well, writable stuff.

I fear, the writer in me is dying. Probably incurably ill now. I hope there will be tears shed other than mine when he does eventually meet inevitability.

I sincerely hope I'm wrong.

Trance

2007-12-29T19:12:00.000+05:30

This past day I was sitting on my chair and watching the kings of the sky in flight. I don’t know what the signs of joy are in birds; but I didn’t find any particular reason to believe they weren’t simply euphoric that evening. And certain something in my mind told me this could well be the way they have been every evening of their life. And I wondered why. Why, we think, say and write every day that we are superior to them. We have our share of worries, every kind of them. We worry that it might rain and render all the toil of washing clothes futile; we worry getting chided for getting late to office; we worry a bomb might drop on our heads and blow us off to shreds; we worry about everything and find so very few reasons to cheer about. And some times you are half way through executing that perfect smile at this delighting thing you found, and this assignment that you hadn’t started and was needed to be submitted the next day fucks up that little gesture of simple pleasure.

For the eagle, it finds joy in everything it does. It might not be joy; it could be something else entirely different. Some feeling that the human psyche wouldn’t ever be able to even comprehend or even recognize. But I see them doing circles in the air, soaring high, resting atop the trees, and killing at will with such panache that even 007 might wanna consider learning a thing about élan from them. I fail to see even the faintest tinge of despair in them. I envy them.

How would it feel if you are an absolute sucker at the thing you value the most? The one thing you always found the most inspiring, the most significant; the thing that you thought might well be your passport to success. What do you do?

Right now I’m confronted with that question, again. I’ve had it in my face before and then I escaped somehow with my ego virtually unscathed. But it has remained in me, all this time. And now it’s raising its ugly head again and I feel cornered desperately trying to find excuses, to shield my ego, my verve. I might fail this time and if I do, I do not know what will ensue. I thought I had left that phase of being an absolute loser behind. Guess not. For someone who takes pride in being candid, the possibility of having been a character fraud all this time is despairing beyond words.

I saw American beauty and the fear I’ve always kept inside me like a timid 5 year old that hides its piece of broken marble safe beneath the moss grown plank in the basement, surfaced.It is disturbing and true.

Nothing can be worse than being ordinary.

Murphy and a Can of Kunkumapoo

2007-12-22T01:13:00.000+05:30

Murphy's Law: “If something can go wrong, it will; and usually at the worst time.”

Grand Bazaar is nothing like the name suggests. It’s as resplendent as the sty that used to be on the street opposite to where Oliver twist lived. Now, a shop on the Keston road and that too rubbing groins with “style plus” may not exactly be the way you define business acumen but it pretty much gives you an idea how bad things can go. All praise Murphy.

Oh I need to add at this point that the shop is doing good business and will have it that way until the “style plus” think-tank decides to grace it with a grocery section.

Fate, it seems, entrusted with me the responsibility to pour forth all the above said nonsense and the coming ones only ‘coz this past day me and my amigos decided to give “grand bazaar” a visit.

For the purpose of easy comprehension, I shall henceforth refer to them as Calvin and Hobbes.

It was the season of “combined study” (yeah, and it comes every 6 months or so, closely preceding the season of flunk-o-exams) and me and Hobbes were at Calvin’s home for the same reason. Even as Hobbes was desperately trying to figure out the relation between “Wilson line” and thermal engineering by Bellany (by then we had understood there were several “kinds” of thermal engineering, mainly a)Bellany b) Khurmi and c) Rajput and they all had one thing, only one, in common; a lot of shit.), Calvin came in, holding the key of his black won’t-let-you-have-the-Lancer Indigo Marina and we set forth on an expedition that would see us miss VTOLs by inches and millimeters, thanks to our cockpit crew Calvin and Hobbes. Let me give you a fair estimate of how great things were, it was like waking you up from a pleasant dream and driving you in to living your worst nightmare. I don’t know how worse things can get. Yes, and I don't intend to either, if you were getting ideas, arsehole.

After what seemed like a few zillion trillion fucking billion ages the 80 horse driven blackie came to a screeching halt. Down we got and walked we in. We shopped and then we came out. And then, out of the blooming chrysanthemum blues, it happened.
Hobbes pointed to an already yellowing piece of paper glued to the bazaar wall and read out,

“kunkuma poo ivide labhyamanu”

A pair of sullen eyes looked up, now lit by hope, and Calvin looked at Hobbes.

Hobbes looked at Calvin.

Calvin looked at Hobbes.

Hobbes looked at Calvin.

I stood wondering if “kunkuma poo ivide labhyamanu” had somehow revealed to them that they were actually biological brothers or something, even as they continued to exchange the thoroughly somber and totally boring “bhaai….mere bhaai. tum kahan they?” looks. Hell, it was more like, “Hey bub, shall we do it tonight?”

Then to my continued despair, the two ran in like chicks with the fox on hot pursuit and bought a tin of “kunkuma poo”for 70 bucks; which I learned shortly after, aunty had apparently asked for.

My worst nightmare part 2 happened then. Here again, I would like to let you know that I had greatly curbed my instinct to scream at the face of an untimely death and was quite pleased with my stoic self. A few rides more and I would be laughing my stinking guts out if Death himself were to come and tell me, “The end. This program was brought to you by….”

Back at Calvin’s home: We stood at the door, having pressed the bell. Aunty came and opened the door and Calvin pushed afront the shopping bag.

A few moments later, settled as we sat in Calvin’s room, with all the worries in the world and hoping worse wouldn’t happen and at the same time perfectly knowing that it would in all likelyhood, came a voice from the adjacent room,

“mone, ni kunkumam vangichille?”

The “bhaai….mere bhaai. tum kahan they?” looks were there again and moments later, in which time we realized there was only one universal law; Bellany had no idea what it was; and Murphy was a genius, Calvin replied perfectly embodying obedience and respect and all things nice,

“amma, kunkumapoo vangichitundu. athu mixiyil ittu podicheduthal pore amme"

Meandering my way to No-where

2007-12-09T22:00:00.000+05:30

I had a ride in a Mercedes today. I sat inside in awe of the big gentle beast; and tried to feel the pride soaring inside me like the flame of a candle just lighted. But that is about the Merc. Let me talk about myself; coz maybe that’s all what I know.

I have completed two and a half years of my college life with another one and a half to go. I have had my moments of success, that of failure and it has been largely a mixed bag of fortunes. But the bigger picture shows the astronaut making idli-chutney in the dingy kitchen of some suburban home. I ought to have known about braking systems and ignition and engines and cylinders and valves and for the love of Christ, brake-bloody-horse powers; and of course without a second revealing thought about it, I say, I know about none.

Yes, my friend. I am a would-be Mechanical engineer.

I claim; and much to my despair, falsely, that I have escaped falling in with the line of a trillion “aspiring” doctors and engineers. And yet, I can’t pick one direction that I would have liked to pursue. Astronomy, language and quite shockingly even history springs up in my mind when I find myself cornered with questions that share the same nauseating theme,

“If not this, what?”

I hear people, peers and seniors alike, speaking of machines and things beyond the scope of my limited intellect with a fervor that I have previously only associated with Gyro Gearloose. God bless them. I don’t envy them, I envy their passion. I see it and the only instance I could remember when I had anything close to that kind of zeal for something, was when I was sifting through the pages of “A brief History of Time.” I know I love everything about the universe, time and the proving wrong of previously believed notions of things being absolute. Those are the things I believe test the human rationale to the point of utter disbelief. There is a subtle beauty in proving things, hitherto believed, wrong and starting afresh on a clean slate; forming every idea anew.

You read what the Pope wrote and what Einstein wrote and you believe science and religion are poles apart. And then you read them all over again and you find them all to be the same simple thing. Both take you closer to absolution. You realize how trivial a thing your existence is and yet how your birth was an unavoidable event in the course of time. You take the calculator to count how many times you went wrong in a day of your life and then you sit back to realize how impeccable the figures that govern the whole universe had to be for it to be the way it is. And they say, if even a decimal had changed in the fundamental figures the universe as we see it wouldn’t have been there, nor we to talk about it. Still, we call ourselves the higher being.

Why are gods always depicted as human, do our “lesser” counterparts have no gods? I wonder how gods would have looked like had lions been able to evolve out like us, or even peacocks for that matter.

PS: I assure you the Merc has got nothing to do with god or religion thereof.

Three Successful Men.

2007-11-16T22:14:00.000+05:30

And, I rode on.

Moments earlier there was a successful man taking the corner off the busy street on his bi; the smile to savor for a lifetime gracing his otherwise flaccid lips. Life had been pretty easy on him; there were few he could call enemies and there were indeed many he could count on to take a bullet for him.

Beside him, he saw the frames whizzing past him; frozen in time, lifeless. The two-stroke engine pumped harder and soon the jeep ahead was wolfed down by his rear view. It kept close behind; but was “behind” him and that was the whole point. He found reason to smile again. With a look at the skies he closed his eyes in prayer. He knew he had little to more to wish for; and yet he knew he would still have more. He had struck gold at every step he took and he knew it wasn’t the end of the streak yet. A few hundred yards ahead of him on the sidewalk, was a guy sitting on the hood of his parked car. There was nothing peculiar about him. Yet, the man caught his attention; for a moment nevertheless.

The mobile had been vibrating for sometime now; but he had graver things to deal with. Like the four feet trench at the side of the street that was yet to be laid with the pipes. The smile on his face hadn’t faded yet, the unprecedented success that he had had. The buyout at the stocks, the average to millionaire transition overnight and the recognition of a mind that had baffled the management gurus; it was a dream run.

He noticed, as he neared the Mustang, the face of his boss slowly melting in to definition and the red scarf in his hand. His lips stretched wider,

“It ain't so bad a thing to be a millionaire, after all.”

And he chuckled to himself and then becoming conscious of himself like a timid 10 year old facing the crowd for the first time, he let it subside in to a soft smile.

As he got closer still, he smiled at his boss and was greeted back by a smile. And then, there was a subtle parting of the man's fingers and he watched the scarf fluttering down to the ground in the gentle breeze. He felt the engine behind roar and the crunching wave of the impact force up through his spine and in to his skull. His hands gave away and the bi skidded along the ground. A few paces beside, thinning away in to the past was the picture of a smiling man, successful; the scarf lying at his feet.

A good ten meters away, the bike came to a halt hitting the post. A pair of feet was sticking up the edge of the trench; stained with a lot of red.

With another look at the spread of bills in the case beside and the satisfaction of a successful man; job done; I floored the accelerator and the jeep sped on.

KNOW IT !!

2007-11-15T00:04:00.001+05:30

fuck you, and you and you.

'coz I AM fuckin frustrated.

I so wanna kill a certain few people and I'm so on the verge of doing it. Push your luck any further and you might just find a peg sticking right in to your shit clogged brain. Don't expect me to think of "the" consequences before I step over; 'coz I'm so fucking irrational for my own good; and as it turns out yours too.

Oh. And I so fucking mean it.

Thus spake the Author,

2007-10-28T23:24:00.000+05:30

The air was clogged with the smell of the moist wood from the benches lining both sides of the walk. It was not the first time he was there, nor was it the first time that it ever rained over. Still, there was something odd about it. The dry winter doesn’t often romance such downpour. But he knew it wasn’t just the untimely rain.
There were still people in the park, the heavy drizzle notwithstanding. Everyone had something to brood over; something that they doubted could ever be put right. And they walked about, resigned to their fate, in absolute isolation impervious to the existence of the many others in the same league. It was hope; that they all had lost.

Taking another puff of the Winston, he tore off yet another page and threw it in to the building pile of paper carnage. He was there to write; and he kept rotating the Cartier between his fingers. He stared at his own idiosyncrasy; at the pen that kept going in circles; insipid and lifeless. He wondered if it would suddenly spring to life and write for him. A thought; a spark of something remotely creative would awaken in it a mind of its own and all those broken bits of imagination would instantly melt in to words, right before him. Subtle.

But this was no piece of the usual lexical showoff. He had done all that before; and had little to prove. He was thirty-two and had no complaints; was unmarried and had few relatives.
Kneeling down and untying the lace of his boots, now having realized that he was not going to finish writing it that fast, he reclined; gazing at the last slivers of the evening sun dissolving in to the gloom; like a concerned mother driving home her boisterous son as the night closed in.

He had started to feel old. Thirty two wasn’t much of an age to be; but he was starting to lose the point. Suddenly money, or the job; nothing whatsoever seemed to be a lure enough to keep him going. His perspective had changed and so did his take on ethics and moral values and other such taboo topics. Of late, he had been conditioned, so to speak, to refer to most of the “so-called” gentle man stuff as bullshit. Reasons; he had one too many. He had almost stepped over the threshold of bachelorship and marriage was starting to be more of a scare. The fact that so many individuals saw marriage like some kind of big deal seemed naïve. Almost stupid. He could see it all frame by frame. The initial thrill of it; the excitement of moving to higher grounds; children; the “come what may, she will be there for me” feeling; and all that. Over generations, this routine had been regular and still no one seemed to be getting bored of it. Add to that a probable four out of ten chance of post-marital problems; and the equation becomes a sort of Fermi’s last theorem with an almost zero probability of being solved by the feeble human intellect. For the money conscious miser brothers, all this is augmented by the litigation expenses in the likely event of a divorce. On the whole, the joy that is often associated with marriage seemed to be one traded for a life long subscription of misery. And he smiled to himself. He had just cracked something that had eluded the human race for eons.

Curiously enough, he knew he was letting his mind to be pried upon by these perturbing thoughts with an almost morbid interest. But these were issues to be looked in to; thought over and dealt with. But there seemed to be no real social good that he could do in this case. All he could possibly do was to not commit the same mistake himself. Well; but that was not the point ……

AUTHOR: at this point, I got absolutely lost in the maze of all the freaky ideas every new word was leading me to; not to forget the spirits of nonchalance that hath benevolently bestowed upon my otherwise diligent self every lethargi”fying”, so to speak, trick in their bags and; I felt it best to stop.

[2 minutes later]
Again; at this certain point I want to add this on …

I am not against love. In fact I respect it. But I can’t get myself to admire the emotion that makes you buy roses for 4 girls in a span of 3 weeks; and yet call ‘em all instances of true love; and again the ludicrousness of the moral fibre that urges you into making a huge cry over it when the 5th girl slaps you on the face. I honestly feel, the word love has so much been skewed in sense that every feeble thought that you associate yourself with in the context of a girl has come to be called as love. Had to say this somewhere….where better a place than my own blog ..!!

yours truly.

The bigger love

2007-10-16T22:40:00.000+05:30

Suddenly, the world doesn’t seem so sophisticated after all. The description I’ve in mind comes close to the lines of absurd incoherent bullshit. The emotions that people claim to go through, the general pattern of prioritization of emotions; every thing seems so stupid. Every second movie that our myriad of production houses churn out every single day tells about how the guy and the girl falls in love and how they win over the evil force of the girl’s parents. Jog my chronology a few weeks back and I too was one to empathize with the lover boy. Love was the thing to talk about, any where, any time.

Honestly, it is the quintessence of human joblessness.

I am finding it quite hard to understand the rationale behind an “olichottam”. You give the slip to two souls who have taken care of you for something like 18 years and have built all their hopes and aspirations around you; and all that for someone who you met, maybe five years ago? Un-bloody-believable stupidity.

Oh yes, the purists. The patrons of individualism; idiots of the first order.

I understand the spark, the chemistry that works between these sexes; that together with the surge of a few hormones could well incite you in to eloping. But wouldn’t it only be becoming of you to spare a thought for the dad who took you by the hand and showed you the stars; or the mother who would shed a tear more than you would, each time you cried.

For our parents, it’s the love of a lifetime that their kids are. And for them, there is nothing beyond. They live each moment knowing that there would dawn a morning; when we would walk away, leaving them in an old age of solitude. And they wouldn’t stop us.
And for us, parents are where our journey begins. For us the horizons are a long way off and there is no place lesser we would stop at.

I don’t know about you. I don’t know about me either. But I do know I wouldn’t find a love bigger than my parents’ for me.

Headlines Today

2007-09-28T19:34:00.000+05:30

I played table-tennis. I failed miserably.

I played table-tennis. Someone told me I had to hit it over the net, not under the table.

I played table-tennis....holla!! I played the holy shit outta him.

Heard Yuvraj just won himself ten million rupees...oh n yes a Porsche 911.

Super holy-poly grass eating dead mammoth!!
That's for hitting six balls out of the park. Just wait till poor old Stuart Broad hears of this. Someone get a mopper man. Sob sob.

Am I becoming increasingly idiotic by the day? I hope not,....either way is fine actually. Like it's any better this way or that. The world is going bonkers. Why should I be left any inch behind. Buhahaha. I make perfect sense. Now all I need is to see a psychiatrist. That sounds like a "psycho-artist". Shit!! I make sense again.

Paragraphed Insanity

2007-09-15T18:37:00.000+05:30

That must have been the longest lay off ever since the time I started blogging. There was a time not so long ago when I thought I would never give up this hobby of mine. But like Morpheus said, “fate, it seems is not without a sense of irony”. Right now I am doing this ‘coz I believe “better burn out than fade away”. Courtesy: Kurt Cobain. The last thing I would want anyone to say about this myself-ology is …”gone stale”

I sit dreading the possibility of a fever; thanks to Hoganakal waters.

We had our Industrial visit last week to B’lore and Hyderabad. Honestly I was not exactly exalted at the idea. But being out with friends has got to be fun which was the sole motivation egging me on. At no instant throughout the 9 day long tour did I feel that consuming rise of excitement that you normally experience even at the mere mention of a week long tour. Add to that an uncompromising attitude and a meaty egotism and you get the picture. No miracle happened and I had this feeling of being in hell at least a dozen times during the week. But then, after 9 days out there, just when you think home is just the place where every voyage ends; you are engulfed by that overwhelming fear of reverse-entropy. Routine is such a boring word for a way of life. You do the same thing everyday, see the same things every day, get up at the same time, get out at the same time, get back at the same time, watch t.v for the exact 3 hours, make an act of studying or at least being amongst books for an hour and then sleep for the exact same 6 hours only to get up the next morning and do the same all over again. Now, that is dull.

Even as I am writing this hoping to produce something that could end this whole page of dreary unexciting lexical savagery, I am forced to yield to the cold numbness that’s veiling itself over the whole of my mind and maybe even my soul; Perhaps.

This sort of thing happens to a lot of people. I know. There was this past of yours when you were vulnerable more than a lone petal in the eye of a storm and the vestiges of it keeps knocking at the door of your conscious self. A past You that you kept hidden from all the world, secretly understanding and pitying your on weakness. And now you are this another self and as insane as it may sound, it hurts your new found ego to know that this past of yours is now naked and powerless as ever and weak in front of this revived and thoroughly self built You and as hard as you may try you know it’s still You that is weak. It plagues your mind to the point that you start doubting your new self, start casting aspersions on the genuineness of your mettle, start fearing you may crack up any moment and be back at the tail of the snake again. And more than all that fear of being weak again, the shame of being so ludicrous enough to believe in something so huge a fake might drive you mad; in to a strife with yourself trying to find out who the real You is. A war that might never end.

It seems I write without purpose. Every next word leading on to something new, something that might sound preposterous to revealing as the reader would take it.
It is no longer fictitious. Creative and factual are two words the dividing line of which can be hugely blurred, so much as to be undistinguishable, by a generous, yet sensible, use of excessive word play. And I, not belonging to that higher rung of artists, can sound true only if I am actually being true. There. My humility and my genius are at loggerheads. One would win. And either would make my day.

How long is your script?

2007-07-18T22:43:00.000+05:30

The journey is starting to feel long already. And I am tired. But they have the rules written down; I have to tramp on.
I’ve been hugely accused of being a confused teenager, but what I think about mostly is individual essentialities that I believe have been twisted and skewed to suit the so-called social idealisms.

I happened to drop in at a community called “suicide” in a largely popular social network online. The first line of the introduction (which went like, Suicide is our way of telling God that, “You can’t fire me. I quit.”) sounded impressive enough to make me scurry through some of the few topics of discussion in there. It was more or less prosaic to the passer-by. The same old, she-ditched-me-I-am-gonna-take-pills. Clichéd as it may sound; it was rather amusing as an individual to find that I hadn’t lost my appetite for bullshit. Alright. Let’s rephrase, “….for intriguing bullshit.”

People who sit on nice leather cushions sporting moon glasses or other sort and get paid for writing nice little things, and more importantly, and apparently, carrying “socially constructive messages” are the forerunners of a whole party of old monks who have taken to showing you, young individuals who have trod off in to the wrong lane, the right one. And what do they say in return, “Thank you very much. I have a train to lie across.”
Very much like them.

They say, the monks that is, that life is God’s gift to man and only he has the right to take lives. That sounds like a bit of logic doesn’t it? Well so you say.
Consider you were one among the social reformers. And you preach the above mentioned doctrine. That obviously would have that you believe in god. So do in his absolute powers. Now some guy gets killed in an accident. Who was responsible? If you are the believer we were talking about you would obviously resign to the fact that God decided to make short work of the poor guy’s tenure on earth. Now let’s change the frame a bit. The guy presented himself in to the scene of the accident and gets killed on his own accord. What would you, as a believer, tell the grieving kins?

a) That he went against God and killed himself and more importantly, for our purposes, thus rewrote God’s plans for him. OR,
b) That was what God had in store for him. (or maybe fate. Now what is fate afterall? A written script of your life.)

Given the condition that you are a preacher (and thus also a believer) you would not obviously want to believe that a meek individual had in his will the strength to topple the Almighty’s own will. So that leaves us with the other choice(btw, free will remains bullshit to the believer).

It was God who scripted his life and the script said “The end” then and there.

So now my friend, how is it that before you die (“of your own will”) you are advised not to, ‘coz only that supreme force has the right to take your life; and, after you breathe your last you are hailed as just another guy he lost interest in. Which ever way it's Him who is responsible, by the preacher's own dogma. What in the world do they mean saying "It's a sin to take your own life". "You" are not taking it, free will is bullshit. It's him coying with the idea of granting death. Bored by the mundane ways, he chose to make you do it yourself. I dont get it. Ludicrousness, it seems has been woven in to our way of life.
Not that the people who preach against suicide are fools. But, honestly, I dont see their point. Everyone's going the same way now or later. Who's stopping you mate. Oh yes, spare a thought for your family though. Between, afterlife is another piece of bullshit.

And, dont get me wrong. There are a few billion people in the world. I think life is highly over-rated. Fine. I take it for granted. When you can take it so, why bother. One life less wont exactly bring about an imbalance of any kind in the world. So go ahead, kill yourself.

I bet you can give me a thousand reasons why you still think I'm wrong and I bet I can still find A reason to tell you why I am right. ‘Coz my friend, nothing was ever meant to be absolute. I believe we all have a choice; to be or not to be. Whichever one you choose, when you die, it's anyway going to called God's work. So what diffrence does it make afterall? We all have been sent to here to partake in a play. We are meant to amuse him. We make rules; and then we find a reason to break them. Think about it. Those who realize the ploy leave; and those who are yet to, live.

Pssst: Now, does my existence confuse you?

The solitary seeker.

2007-07-07T18:01:00.000+05:30

Seeking the tunes to my life,
Long and dry the road is spread out,
Yeah. The road I need to tread.
but, oh, its just the thorns and the weeds.

Galloping on the dark horse of time,
To have a swig of vigor,
I look to stop by at ole Willy’s
But, oh, the wily thing wouldn’t stop.

The sun would still shine,
For it takes no penny to do.
Hah, tell li’l Johnny about the sun
And he would cry until you give him the orange.

Funny George still grows thicker,
For he eats and never works.
So there be, things to amuse you.
But, oh, this is the way I need to trudge on.

While I was picking my bags and fixing my boots,
Wise Hannah told me about the roses,
Yeah. The road I need to tread,
But, ha, its not just the thorns and the weeds.

An ode to the dream I lived.

2007-07-07T10:13:00.000+05:30

Last night I went to sleep like I always do. And I slept like I always do.

And I dreamed.

The whole atmosphere was rather confusing. There was some reason why all the people were fleeing the place. It appeared that the officials had called off the usual bus schedule, and there wouldn’t be any buses today. Having seen “Bombay” quite a few times the scene had a similar treatment, it was that dusky sort of a scene, where you knew just from the look that something was amiss. Me, a guy friend of mine and another girl friend, were keeping close to each other. We scuttled out on to the road and were looking for a vehicle of some sort to get somewhere far away. And then the college bus blew its horn and we were in line boarding it. The bus went quite a distance n then broke down, much to our dismay. The place looked remote n I knew I had a long way to go before I could stop and breathe. We, the three of us, got down and started walking. Soon enough, we came to a road split and there was this autorikshaw coming by. For reasons, I neva had a chance to stop and think about, I got in to the auto, deserting the other two, and gave instructions to the driver on where to go. (It seemed like I said “my home” n apparently the guy knew where my home was).

The rickety thing on three wheels slugged on keeping alive the prospect of an accident any moment, all along. When it seemed like a few hours I asked the guy if he was right on route coz usually it doesn’t take so long to get to my home. The guy said he is n I was satisfied. It was getting dark and outside the rain clouds were rolling in, n it felt oddly strange.

As time went by and the passing frames started to change their humor, I started having that feeling of something imminent. And I saw that it was not any where near my home. This was far. A lot far away from where I had to go. But I knew this place, I had been there before. I told him, this time with a sense of surety, that this is not where I had to go. He turned his head back, looked at me over his shoulder and said,

“It’s Her wedding today. We will go by that place”

I paused and I looked at him again. I sat back wondering how could he have known about her and saw the guy taking that turn. He knew her; and he was going to show me her walking away with someone else. It couldn’t be happening and I was so sure that I almost laughed at it. Then the fear came and I said,

“I don’t want to see it. I don’t care; get me to my home NOW.”

And he smiled and only smiled, and kept going.

Then the scenes changed,

It was dusk, there was the nadaswaram playing and it all felt strangely falling in to place. At the far end of the narrow lane of stone mandapams, I could see people and the cars, decorated n waiting for the newly weds. The moss grown stone walls on the sides and the dusk gave the place its share of gloom. It had started to rain and the drops made gurgling sounds in the muddle of water here and there. I reached the entrance and turned back. The driver of my auto was there, lighting a cigarette and smoking in to it. I leaned on my feet trying to get a glimpse of the girl.

At the centre of them all, stood she,

clad in a saree of red n yellow that boasted of a few hundred people’s toil, and the garland around her neck n smiling, happily unwary.

There were a lot of things left unsaid, but had I given my thoughts a form, I wouldn’t have lived it. I lived a dream, and dream I did, and waking up was a boring thing to do.

She was beautiful. Innocent and naïve and smiling…and smiling.

Without taking my eyes off her, I asked the guy beside if this indeed was the girl.

He looked at me.

and…………….. I turned away……….and I walked.

I LOVE YOU

2007-05-20T16:29:00.003+05:30

The drizzle started just as the last streaks of the evening sun were melting in to the waters at the far end of the horizon. Outside, the air that smelled of the wet earth and the fading orange from the bottle green meadows spoke fantastic stories of the twilight. Further high the skies flaunted the ruddy palette of that lazy artist of a higher realm.

Beneath the eglantine ornamented canopy, like a blooming rose she stood, drenched in the crystal beads that embellished her splendor. Disarmed and enthralled stood he on his knees.

She stood in expectation of something sweeter than her own thoughts, her lips half open breathing life in to the flaccid drops that kissed them. Her eyes envied his’ for they could behold this angel while hers’ couldn’t. His knees were growing limp but that didn’t matter. Leaning forward and holding out his arms he took her palms gently. Eyes fixed on hers’ he spoke,

“Beyond that horizon seven billion people breathe the same air as you now, except one.

Me.

And you…… make me...Special. Each time I breathe in, I know it’s the air that has been there inside you; that has touched your soul. That; makes me singular.

I…"

This was not how it should be and he knew it. It was not about words anymore. Smiling at her with the air of someone who found what he was searching for all this time, he said

"I wanted this to be special. I was thinking about this and just this for so many days and I was, trying too hard. But, you know what. I’m not worried anymore. Know why?

I love you.

And I know I love you the most among all those living souls. And I know it now.”

Clicking open the gold braced small box he held out the single stoned emerald ring, and it still shone bright in the fading twilight.

She stood breathless and before she could count those beats her heart skipped, he spoke again.

“Marry me.……..‘Coz if you don’t, I will need to live with a heart that’s since long been beating for someone else.”

"I know, I really do.", she said and they kissed as the drizzle still grew stronger.

Bet I'm diffrent, you schmuck !! :P

2007-05-18T22:46:00.000+05:30

I often had this thought that I am different. Then I had the thought that it was just the fad that was catching on me too. I started observing the folks around me, with, I have to admit, a rare sense of hurt pride. Viola!! What do I see? I indeed am different.
(I have no frigging idea why I’m saying this now, but I've always fancied being a schizophrenic. To be having Dissociative Identity Disorder to be precise. Wouldn’t it be cool going to sleep as one person and waking up as another? )

Let me be innocent again.

I have lived just about 19 years and there are so many things that happened to me. Some fade away, some linger on. But even those which linger on, I’m afraid, might loosen up and disappear when newer and better (or worse, as your prudence tells you) thoughts and memories claim their place in a mind that’s already plagued by every zany thought in the god damned Devil’s den. So what do I do to glue them up in position? Easy. Do something crazier the memory of which you know would remain green longer. (You see, there is nothing called forever. Forever is an entity the other end of which you can define any moment you choose. Just another term that was framed to adorn the bull-shit that two homo-sapiens of opposite sex (nowadays same sex too, not to leave behind the gays and Lesbos) caught in a total cocktail of emotions brimming for each other would want to use). Yeah, so. Let me cite an example.

Consider that I just got shooed off by the girl I proposed to (Which never did happen. Lol). What would be craziest thing to do? Give your folks a treat, making sure that you put in a lot of cash which you really won’t forget so easy(I WONT. 'coz I'm a born miser. lol). I understand this could well sound crap to you! What else man. The girl you were after asked you to whack off and that is not an event bitter enough to leave the memory of it fresh for a long time to come? Well. I see the reason. When you are so sure that this is never going to work out, when you are so damnably confronted with the truth that you don’t want to accept, when you so fucking know that if you live long enough you are going to have to forget it and move on. That’s when. That’s when you want to do something cooler. Something so totally off track.

Let’s take another real example. There is this friend of mine who I knew well (Oh crap!! There I go again. You see there is a damn lot to be explained. So I better not explain). Now that guy says something that you never wanted to escape his larynx and shoot out in to your working tympanum. Well what do you do then? All you have is your class note books in front of you and a concrete wall. Simple again. Tear up them up in to smithereens. Save the half torn cover page in your trunk and have it there till the time you choose to keep the wounds open.Bang your fist in to the concrete. It's not about the pain and you OUGHTTA KNOW IT!! And when you know it you can smile. I amaze myself with the kind of insensitivity I sport at times. Oh I’m just so used to being myself.

I typed a few times I don’t care, paused and thought about it. Then I thought it was just the fad taking me on. I started observing the blokes around me with a familiar sense of bruised conceit. Damn!! I indeed don’t care.

Some think I am a dork. Some think I’m a nerd. Some again think I eat pork. Some others think I am a vegetarian. What they don’t understand is that …..They are just …just people. …
…I say. Take me on if you got the nuts.

dE equilibrium

2007-05-09T22:57:00.000+05:30

I have this tendency of seeing things as confusing; may be I love the idea of things being complex and having more to it than what is obvious to the average observer.

I’ve heard that every thing happens for your good. I’ve had my doubts and I’m here to substantiate my doubts with evidence. The whole point would be that some wise guy said “every thing happens for good” which was later slightly modified by the so circumstance-driven-intellectual minds to “every thing happens for your good”. The outwardly simple modification in fact skews the very idea of the original saying.

We have at least 49.9 billion other homo sapiens living around us sharing the same realm.
Now all of us, that is to say almost all of us, have at some point of time been involved in a strange concoction of emotions that the wise call “love”. Here starts the apparently strange and biased but only too justifiable (acc. to you know who) principle of working of nature.

Each and every one who fondles the hope of being successful in love has those stories of similar successes fueling his Pandora’s Box. Clear. What is lacking in the scenario is a whole myriad of stories of losers who got screwed in love. What sieves out in to our mind, from the love stories of a hundred poor souls, are one or two that speaks of success. Quite understandably we shun the losers and their stories, only until we find ourselves amongst them. There again the few “lucky” find success and moves on with their life. Those who crash out are set back by a few notches and they wait on for the white rabbit to show them the way to wonderland.

We see this tale of contradictions and would quite reasonably be disappointed with the system that seems so biased.

Well, “bias” is not the key-word at all. The word is “equilibrium”.

Every system strives to reach the balance, the equilibrium. If someone has to gain, someone else has to lose. Whether you end up as the gainer or the loser has got nothing to do with the system. The system does not incorporate petty emotions in its drive to reach the balance. Oh and don’t blame the framework so blindly. You have your chances.

Either you got to be the hunk no woman can say no to, or you need to be exceptionally skilled with your vocabulary in which case you stand a not-so-bad chance. Or else there is this bonus option; you need to be so good at heart and so nice and so caring and all that, that some woman eventually finds it good enough. Without any of the above traits you might as well put down your thinking cap and wait for your mom and dad to fix the marriage and settle for love after marriage with who ever you end up with. You even have the option of shedding some load off the system. Hang yourself or better jump right off the nearest cliff. Such martyrs shall be hailed as those who gave their lives at the altar of pure love. You at least get the consolation that way.

The bottom-line is “every thing doesn’t happen for your good”. Things do happen for good. Not yours always.

So the next time a girl asks you to shoo off, don’t be disheartened. Just know that this time you ended up see-sawing with an opponent better than you at some part of the world and managed to make the worst of the game.

And those lucky rascals, who do get to taste the pie, don’t be so overwhelmed. Success and sustainable success are different. The corporation truck or an unassuming state transport vehicle is all it takes to change the equation. But if you do get the passport to Gods’ mansion, you know one thing burning out ….
...................you die lucky .....and few ..die so.

De Phoenix tHat forGot

2007-05-02T23:00:00.000+05:30

Clowns are not born with red noses,
Al Capone, while still burgeoning, missed the gun
says his mom. I didn’t inherit the losses;
I didn’t see them coming; thought it was just fun.

She served me laughter for breakfast;
Had melancholy kebabs for lunch.
Come evening, and the maid showed haste.
Last cometh Nyx and she told me of the crunch.

Shall I come back and claim what has never been mine?
Give me a slice; keep the rest. Don’t see me whine.
I’ve been your bane for long.
Tell me this. Was I, all along, wrong?

It’s raining here, in orbs of crimsoned conscience.
The blades speak of your tears, and my eschewed sense.
I need no alibi to shun the blame,
I’m just a phoenix that forgot how to rise from the flame.

I am Messi.

2007-04-11T18:08:00.000+05:30

One look at my archive was enough to let me know that, of late my blog page had turned in to a sort of trash can of leftover thoughts. Well, may be that’s how it should ideally be. Some thing’s definitely missin’ though.

At close to 65 kgs set on a 5’3” feet frame I wouldn’ probably ever satisfy the fitness norms of any kind of sport. But then I’ve taken up the Nike slogan as my own personal motto. Impossible is nothing.

With a sore knee, a pair of throbbing thighs and restricted movement to some other private and vital parts I sit, relishing on the not exactly sweet memories of my recent (and effectively first) outing on a football field. I did, of course, present a sober sight what with a shirt, three fourths that looked like a couple or more of three fourths and a pair of leather sandals. Not much was expected of me, I could tell from the faces around me and well, I don’t disappoint anyone by habit. Played like I slept the previous whole day in a sty and had had peed-on-someone’-nut butter jam along with a rat bitten loaf and slug juice to end the day’s somber proceedings. Not that I would have put Messi to shame had I not been to the sty or tasted the associated someone’s nut and the assorted slug drink.

Owing to my exceptional striking skills I was put on the defense line. But then, after I had conveniently, and with an ease hitherto unknown even to the sloppiest of players, converted two easy passes in to goals against, I was asked to leave the defense and run in to the attack. Then it happened,
I saw the ball whirling in the air and descending within a foot distance of me. I knew this was the time. Something in my mind made me feel the way I believe Maradona must have felt just before his hand of god goal, and the way maybe Carl Lewis must have felt a score times just before the touch line. I wound up my right feet back straining every single thigh muscle I could. I heard screams from behind and sides to shoot, kick and some other terms I haven’t yet got accustomed with. I could picture it all happening in slow motion. I knew I could just be the next big thing, huh I always knew I was going to be just that. My right leg lunged forward, the calf muscles almost splitting in the impulse (umm, impulse that was going to be :-D).
And then it was all,

“Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh”

I scanned the goal post at 10 meters distance for a white speck of beauty. As I kept scanning I saw the folks running again as if, umm, as if they had spotted the ball! Someone came from behind me, kicked the ball that was lying between my legs and went on with the play. Did I hear someone shouting?

“athrollda machu, nice shot”

The highlight of my game was a header that I did, which I’ve still no idea went where ‘coz the header did ground me for a minute or so. Hey but I know for sure it didn’t immediately go to the nets. I tried doing a complete leg split at some point to dodge someone which almost made me go a nut less!!! Needless to say the others played beyond belief.

PS: I just know it was the boots that made the difference.

I can still Dream.

2007-03-31T11:14:00.000+05:30

I found her looking at me just as my glance caught her and she stood still. Before I could blink she was walkin away and I sensed the dark clouds rolling in.

With a strong sense of something imminent, I stepped in and looked around fighting against my own mind, confused if to wish to find her or not to. I saw the girl in the spotted red churidhar crouched on the ground her face hidden in the palms of her hands resting on the short table. Around her I saw her friends trying to comfort her; their words getting drowned in her sniffles……..

It overcame me. I couldn’t hide it anymore. Hopelessly trying to hide my tears I turned around wailing uncontrollably like a child. All this time it stayed latent. I kept it buried, made myself believe that I don’t care anymore. Laughed aloud in front of my friends and said things that I’ve privately cursed myself for later.

I wanted to run to her, tell her I’m sorry that I can’t explain why this had to happen, that I’m just confused. That I can’t see her hurt; that I can’t see her walk away...Ever. That I can’t stand a tear on her face, and that I can’t show how much I mean it.

…..and then the vibrating mob in my hand made me wake up and see the message that said,

“Entha reply illathe? Urangi poyo?”

Switching it off, I closed my eyes forcing out a lone tear hoping to see that dream again…..

talkin demons.

2007-03-17T20:49:00.000+05:30

To you, I plead. Let me remain here,
Marooned in the gloom so sheer.
But its fine here, I’m secure;
Far from the lights that are obscure.

I hear these slivers of the dark, whispering
It’s Fear that reigns where people live observing.
I’ve lived the fears. And
Now, I live the tears.

Little Red Riding Hood.

2007-03-12T18:09:00.000+05:30

To anyone who has stoically resigned to the fact that your time is not any worthier than mine and has actually sat down to read this whole shit, Lemme remind you. Don’t read any further if you are the kinda person who would judge me from this and ask me something about this. ‘Coz this is my fuckin blog and I write what shit I want here, without needing to care a shit about what others are gonna think and say and do. So don’t drag your ass in here and try to form any fuckin opinion about me and tell me about it and try to correct me, ‘coz if you are gonna ask me about this you are gonna get your vocabulary improved a fuckin lot.
So reader discretion necessary!!!!

I successfully pissed off two or three or maybe even four of my really good friends and I don’t find myself repenting much for it. I do what I want coz I take them all for granted and maybe coz I know I wont lose them this easy. Maybe coz I know they are gonna give me another chance. Ohh n shit, I don’t care what they wanna think about me. I do what shit I want and I say what shit I want about myself, right or wrong, good or bad and let them judge

Shit, I guess I got it wrong, guess I really did step across the line this time.......

Whoever it is: panna ******* *****...*********....just cos of u...i had a big fite at home...i broke a chair...i got my mother throw hot tea at me...and wat not....please do guard ur tongue wen u speak u fuckin asahole;;;....u r one big saddist at times
Whoever it is: i have computer banned for me now...and this mite just be the last message i send someone

I haven’t replied yet. I always knew that I’m one huge ball-less remorseless sadist!!!
Hey I replied!!

sharan suresh: do i get to say a sorry or maybe u cud bash me up n kick me hard tmro wheneva u want, whereeva u want. n i wont move my fuckin hand n will stand still for u. im serious. kick me as hard as u can n i wont complain !! im seriously serious. coz theres no other way i see, i can tell u a sorry. sayin simply sorry has become too common, wont seem to u that i mean nething by it. so u kick me up tomrow k? will cya tmro then . n do plzzz plzzz plzzz kick me n im not jokin !! at least for once take me seriously !!

So many things are going so well for me that I guess I am taking it all down on my friends coz maybe I really don’t care about any of them at all!! Hey and there’s this growing hypothesis of me having one heavy head over my shoulders, which I wouldn’t say “no” to. Hell I am a huggggggggggge jaaaaada guy. And don’t be so stupid enough to think I’m senti about this. I need to say that coz I’ve read a few tales like this and they all have the underlying theme of
……………..“senti story all wrapped up in artificial “don’t care” attitude”

I seriously am an asshole and I don’t see any plans to change either which tells me I am gonna stay so.

So then cya and don’t forget what I wrote at the top. I mean it, every one of you who dropped by to read this without any exceptions. So cya.

If it weren't for my blog !!

2007-03-11T22:14:00.000+05:30

.........and, I got ****ed like a ****in impotent Giraffe-Hippopotamus cross bred piece of vermin poop.

and that, coz of a lot of things thats been happening to me seemingly at random in no particular order or logic but hell, not at all nice for sure.

First of all I get to "know" things that matter a ****in, ****in lot and which I neva knew existed.
Secondly I get to understand that I miss things in my life that I value the most, or quite close to "most".
Thirdly I go ****ing low on attendance and is like 4 hours from getting a condonation confirmation; ohh n which if I put my mind to, a li'l bit more can easily transform in to a "year out" call. The choice rests entirely with my psycho brain.
Fourthly I dont understand why I write crap all the time, that makes sense only to me !!

Hail Love

2007-02-14T23:00:00.000+05:30

“Da macha canteenil povaam”

“Ohh sheri. Nee sponsor cheyyumallo pinnentha. Vaada povaam”

“Hmm...eppozhum achanodu thane kaashu vaanganam ketto mone.”

The singular smile that follows, the spate of laughter that floods your ear, the love that connects ….

Sitting on the black netted steel chairs around the polished grainy stone table you ravage on the single cutlet like street urchins fighting over a time’s meal with no rules of decorum.
Standing unreceptive to the shouts of the professor for calling proxy, you message him about the hilarious turn of events holding the mob under the bench sparing a glance or two for the observing eyes of the lecturer.
Hands around shoulder, you cram six pair of butts on a side-bench meant for four and comment on the morphology of the chics in college. Celebrate Valentine’s Day dressing in all black attire. Team up and ask out every single girl in the college for the salsa workshop. Walk out of the exam hall half an hour in to the exam; send out a flurry of miss calls, wait for the gang and then set out to Lord’s to drain down the grief of yet another flunked exam in meat rolls and puff and limes and shakes.
Those moments, bygone, you realize you were lucky enough to behold the best ever frames of your life.

There are some among who, a show of formality would invite a mock; among who you understand there are more things you take for granted than your folks. …..with who your lips stretch lengths they had never before known.

A relation that has always remained eclipsed by the emotion that once made a thousand score people labor for twenty years to raise that iconic tomb. All ail Love.

Friendship has made none erect any.
Love has never gone out of fad. The world envies you for having a valentine, or more as the sugary ones would like to have it. Cupid’s given a lot of unworthy importance for it never comes easy and quite understandably not everyone has a girlfriend or a boyfriend. Fortunately for us, and unfortunately for that underdog of a liaison, none is low on friends. A pleasant wish can win you a friend, one that could last for a lifetime. And the best part is you don’t need to keep telling him/her that you like him, to keep him close to you. Expectations reach a low with friends, typically attaining a peak only at times of birthdays or on winning a podium position at the recent inter-collegiate fest.

Unrevealed, unspoken and unpretending it still reaches out to your heart, whispering in lubs and dups. Draped in the subtlest of crusts, it exists as the firmest of bonds. Still we play it down; never giving it the value it is entitled to have.

If relations were flesh and blood like us, they would complain. Some brag. Among them would be one, avoiding the darting looks of the crowd, silent, with bruises as red as crimson and tears as clear as her conscience.

We would still fail to see her, to acknowledge her presence ‘coz we know ungratified she would still not desert us. In front of them all would be Love, made up like a party doll, alluring and eye-catching. We would walk up to her, greet her with the loveliest of flowers, escort her up the red carpet, attend to her like maids to princess and make sure of her reign with a unanimous vote. Let us do nothing diffrent. Let's hail Love.

The road to Guinness .....

2007-02-06T17:22:00.000+05:30

For ages the only entry that you would see me entering in to the “extra curricular activities” column of a datasheet has been “quiz” and it remains so till date. So at least for the records (and as a matter of fact, for sheer love of the game) I am a regular at the shows in and out of the city. P.S: More often than not my part in the whole scene ends by the time the prelims get over. But …

“Sunny, it’s not winning that matters. It’s participation that counts. This is how you get the experience to take on better and stronger competitors.”

After “You are simply wasting your time chatting, dear.” that would be the single most used words of wisdom at my home. Courtesy: The hodophilic me, who makes it a point not to miss a single quiz.

Now coming to the matter, my last stint with un- bloody-ever-answerable questions and the resulting fear of making it to the Guinness for the most number of failures in a row, took place at the B.T.H, Cochin.

Im bored……will fill in later if I feel like it. :D

Ravings of a Vampire in Love...

2007-01-21T15:00:00.000+05:30

Listening to the flushing crimson I wait,
Watching the long sabers dig in to your fate.
I know it’s me I see.
Devouring on the faith you have in me.

I see wrong, I see right.
If only a sorry could put things straight
To tell you, I love you with my heart, I crave.
But listen dear, my heart’s in the grave.

I’ve been given two to pick one.
Stranded between the blades of destiny I moan.
Alas! It’s not me who cries. It’s you in tears.
Wish I could rain down on you. Soak you in me. Make you forget your fears.

For you I can bleed this instant, but the next is another minute.
I’ve built my thoughts around you, housed myself atop that turret.
But the tower, too lofty for you to mount, you linger outside unsure.
It's you I put my faith in, Im the disease and dear, you are my cure.

hOw tO eAt a sAdYa

2007-01-14T20:17:00.000+05:30

There are times when I wish I had all the guys with sisters as my friends. There just are so many weddings not to be missed!!

Finally after a long wait I did get to go to a wedding today. Hindu style and that said you get your taste buds tickling. The sadya, the whole feel and above all the payasams!!

Have to say, it was one heck of a wedding, the crowd was good, the feel was good and it all went down well. Picture perfect. The fun came calling when it was finally down to the sadya. Now two of my friends here, Roxy (second name unspecified due to “technical” reasons) and Zacku the masku had absolutely no friggin idea what the whole sadya thing was all about. Right from the “vazhayila” to the end fold, EVERYTHING new to them, and that’s where “friends” come in the picture. Me and my good friend Govind took the session live and gave out a crash course on “how to eat at a sadya”

It went something like this,

1) The rice has to be parted in to two one for the initial “parippu” curry and the other for the “payasam” (yikess!!)
2) You are supposed to eat the banana leaf too, for which purpose are we given that instead of the steel variant which is of course inedible.
3) Beef curry will be served at the last only, usually in a tumbler. (What on middle-earth!!)

So we stepped in for the kill and it was sadya time. Well come on, the guys turned out to be a lot smarter than what we thought they were and did escape with minor follies done.
Before that; Govind was sitting right next to me and the serving boys were out serving the second course of rice. He was done with me and moved over to Govind. The rest is, hmm …err this.

The guy scooped up a whole lotta rice and was about to put the whole thing on to Gov’s leaf when, Govi blurted out with all the politeness in the world

“Kurachu … kurachu mathi”

Before Gov could breathe a next, the guy was GONE, serving out rice to the next in line.
Looking at Gov’s sullen, not to mention embarrassed, plain, questioning, n a lot more yet to be identified emotions overrun face, I knew if I had a Leika with me I would have had myself posing with the “Best Portrait Photographer” award of the CENTURY!!
But he eventually got over it and went about setting his mind on the leaf in front and eventually had it licked clean( I vouch had it been a steel plate the “VIM” guys would have bought it from him, for their next promo, for a whole lotta cash). He he

And all this while another major event was taking place next row, Roxy was doing pretty good with the sadya, can’t say the same about Zacku though! He was like

“What on earth am I supposed to do with this” with the kinda face that a cat would sport if it had a fly sitting on its nose, as the guy served the “payasam” atop the “bolli”.

Roxy, although better, wasn’t that good either.

There comes the phase when you are “supposed” to get the banana mashed in to the “payasam” (not an art I’m exceptionally good at either). He never knew he was to do so, but when Govind let him know it, all he did was roll up the bolli around the pazham and bite in to it, and that presented a sober sight by any standards. Well but then, all went well and I could barely walk the distance when I finally… FINALLY got up. he he …..Jokes apart I had the sadya of my lifetime. Kudoz to Diljit.

sEcOnD cHaNcEz

2007-01-10T14:22:00.000+05:30

Been some time since I last posted; not ‘coz there wasn’t anything to write about.

I loved doing this ‘coz I could write whatever I wanted, things I wouldn’t tell anyone, the way I wanted and yet keep my secrets to myself.

There’s been a change.

I can no longer write things and expect no one to understand any more than what I intend to let them know. I’ve always had my private thoughts, thoughts that had let me understand that I’m not as nice as I thought. Thoughts which were progressively hideous, thoughts which had let me harbor the desire to be a psycho, of being someone who could see the world the way he wanted to see it, and live in his world and never be in pain. Where people would love each other but not cry when one departs. Where you could live when you wanted and die when you wished, without those bonds of love holding you back. Where you could stoically accept the pseudo-reality that to die could be as much a desire as to live. A world where you would live and not struggle to live.

But that’s all a story in itself; let me get down to the point.

I’m as imperfect as anyone out there and there’s no law that needs me to have a better reason or a better judgment of what’s good and what’s bad. So judge me light.
I know that I’m not as important in the bigger scheme of things as I fantasize myself to be at times. But still I hold these little things close to my heart and would never want them to lose the importance I’ve now for them.

“May be you saw me walking away not smiling, may be you thought I hate you. What you didn’t see is, me coiled up in my bed and shedding a tear or two for a lost smile.
May be you saw me turning my head away from you, may be you thought I didn’t want to see you. What you failed to see is, me wishing you wouldn’t see me looking at you.

I have nothing to say, and what I can show, I won’t. I never wanted things to turn out the way they did, I never saw it coming.

My promises went in vain, my words turned meaningless.

May be we could start from scratch, but things would remain the same……………………………………
…………… I wish I could tell you why.

The Siren

2006-12-25T23:59:00.000+05:30

The player kept running, sifting through the tunes. Eyes fixed on the street lamp yonder his mind was elsewhere. It wasn’t easy being amongst the people there, all with problems of their own, uninterested and unassuming in looks. Some in tatters famished and drained and some who belonged to the higher rungs of the hierarchy. Those you wouldn’t find walking through the streets, those you wouldn’t see shaking hands with the peasants. But out here everyone was the same, holding the same ground. It wasn’t a matter of respect, no one asked for it and no one offered it any way.

The jagged sirens of the cop car brought him back to his senses. Holding up the daily that was slipping down through his cold hands, he adjusted the specs. Scanning through the reports he found he had them by heart. Down below, around his feet lay strewn a thousand yellowish peels.

The wait had been long and it seemed it would last forever. He didn’t mind that.

It was his fault and he knew it and he hoped for a second chance. Listening to the sirens fading away in the distance he knew the cops were not out for nothing. Running his hands over the still hurting ankle he continued waiting. She hadn’t come yet; but he knew she would come.

“Melinda wasn’t that hurt last night”. He said to himself.

Bored of the wait, he spread the daily open again and read. He read faster than his eyes went, each next syllable imprinted in his mind. Some psycho was on the loose the daily said. He laughed at the description of the ruffian.

“Dark complexioned, sporting a Mexican beard”

Stroking through his well pruned Mexican beard he smirked at the similarity.

She usually gets here way before this time, he had seen her. Looking at his decade old Tissot he let out a sigh of despair. He tried to stretch out himself on the wooden bench. He cried in pain as the handle pressed against his abdomen. Springing to his feet, he re adjusted the position of the steel and sat back, helping himself to an innocent smile.

He was tired of the world, of the mockery that they call life. He was out to make amends. To try and see someday that his world is the way he wants. Purged off all the things he thought were not fitting.

He heard the faint steps behind getting louder in his direction. Standing up, slipping his left hand through the pocket and gripping the blood dried steel he smirked even as the sirens died away in the distance.

As the morning dawned up on his world, the daily was still lying open, and on the page was the bruised torso of Melinda. His last victim…………..until the night before.

Nonsense redefined!! yayyy

2006-12-17T14:28:00.000+05:30

The cinema was crowded, even though it was almost two weeks since the film was released, which under “normal” circumstances would give you the idea that the film is a nice one, keeping it modest.

Before long we were up there peering thoroughly uninterested into the long string of ads that were being shown on the huge canvass. Everything was normal except for one little thing. There were about a hundred chics sitting on the other side of the aisle. And that, if you would ask me, was “kinda” tempting. Hey and that’s not all, the lass’ in consideration were kinda economical in dressing which isn’t that bad a thing at all, from of course our point of view, not to mention the different “angles of view” we were trying to get. Lolz.

And there was this gal to the end of the next row that was the easiest pick of the lot….and understandably so. She was there to be noted, her tight fit “whatever” said so; her gestures were making that statement…juz an attitude overrun I guess. I seriously wanted to have her-pie that night. Wonder where I put my bat away. And so the film started.

Five minutes into the film I knew I was watching the most nonsensical movie ever. It was like a lot of kool shots put together without any sense of continuity whatsoever!! Let me get elaborate,

The scene Abhishek is introduced---- Our friend comes out of the waters after something like a few tens of minutes underwater in the sexiest way possible on a water bike, well and this guy doesn’t need a scuba gear to breathe underwater or maybe that question isn’t supposed to be asked at all. That was some superheroism. Hey and it doesn’t end there, this guy is so obsessed with shooting airborne that he just refuses to shoot when he’s on water. He flies on that thing juz about whenever he wants to do so (err so gravity? Huh, big deal… there’s no gravity re) and shoots. Oh and yeah Uday Chopra chips in with a lot of jokes, or, hmm, call it “this is a joke, please laugh” kinda jokes. And yeah I was paying a lot of attention,

“da machaa did she actually do what I saw her doing now!!!!”

Rojesh: err you talking about the one in blue denims? Or the white ? Or the red skirt? Oh ok, DUDE you mean that pink shirt ehh?

Govind: dey ppl, I think that one in black is interested in me hehe

Rojesh: da but don’t you think the GUY is a little too old for you da

(Hehe govi sorry da)

Then there is this last on bike hot pursuit scene,

Here the speedometer shows the bike burning rubber at about 200 kmph. Then, hold your breath, Abhishek and Uday jumps off, hands still on the bike and skates on the road at, yeah 200 kmph. ….wowww nay? huh big deal. Must be some shoe they had on then!!

Then finally there is this last encounter between Abhishek and Hrithik.Abhi was pointing a gun at Hrithu and could fire any moment. Then it happened,

The girl at the end of the row was literally shouting “shoot him shoot him” and I didn’t like it a bit, neither did ma friends. Before I knew it I had shouted “**** you” and had a whole row or people in front of me looking here and there confused at the proximity of the dialogue and the wonder of the digital theatre sound technique. And as all this was happening the gal was still going “shoot him shoot him”, wonder why she’s so obsessed with things that shoot. Huh ….

raising hell !!!

2006-12-14T14:20:00.000+05:30

For a written detail regarding the above shown pictures chk this partner-in-crime's blog;

http://mysticalgod666.blogspot.com

thank you.

The Centre of Myology, Hell P.O.

2006-12-12T11:43:00.000+05:30

Pournami, Peroorkada

5:45 am :
5:46 am: yaaaaawwwwwwwwnnnnnnn a sleep deprived face look at the alarm that sounded uncharacteristically loud, not to mention annoyingly so and goes off in to a series of regular swearing #@$&*!

No: 8 B, Heera Palace, Kawdiar

5:55 am:

trinn trinn
Govi: Yeahhh da, me here.
Me: yawwwn, da …gym… we… today.. ..go… decided…remember? ….going?
Govi: err!! g.y.m? hmm ohh yeah!! Yes yes …gimme a call when u are leaving!!
Me: Okie da, ciao then

6:15 am: clad in berumada that looked more like shrunk kurta and a blue pull-over I got on to moi kinetic 4s and got going.

Thanks to the deserted roads in the wee hours of the morning, the wheeler pumped up the acceleration, n by the time it hit the 70’s irregular discontinuous overly monotonous sounds started coming from the rear part of the 4s, which I knew housed the engine components. Slowly resigning myself to the fact that I was on an Indian made 4 stroke scooter and no RX-100, I let go of the accelerator hand. As it came down in to the 50’s the bi wheelie started to sound like a scooter again, which was definitely a matter of great pride ‘coz on our roads, Indian made scooters and the whole body quiver are like Shakira and hip dance.

After a not so eventful 10 minutes, outside the Heera palace waiting for my sweet friend to get up from his bed (ohh yeah did I miss to say, he had dozed off again after the untimely call broke his sleep session), I saw him running up the slope in what looked like a yellowish bluish magenta ‘ish’ n whateverish t-shirt and a 3-quarters and a red (moi!!!!) track shoes. All boarded and set, we got going,

Destination ………..BODY GRAFT POWER GYM, for gents and ladies( ?? )

After picking up Rojesh from a NOT so nearby place we reached the gym all ready to become muscle machines. The place wasn’t that bad actually, with over a dozen vehicles parked nearby it certainly couldn’t be. And from the looks of the guys who went in and out in regular intervals of time it certainly wasn’t intimidating at all!! We tread up the path leading to the G.Y.M and that sense of source-unknown pride filled us, the kinda thing I thought Tom Hanks had when he walked up the steps on to the podium of the Kodak theatre!!

Up on the terrace that had been converted in to the “Centre of Myology” we found ourselves among people who revived those old memories of Arniee in Conan…., Stallone in First Blood and the likes. And then came down the steps yonder, “baap of them all” …the instructor, who it seemed had been stung by bees all over!!

Pointing at the chairs nearby he asked us to sit and get the registration done with. I glanced sideways and saw a pretty cute looking hard cover of

“The French Vitalizers .UB: 500 supplements”

And there was this particular moment when I thought the guy was going to bash up my friend, Rojesh, for out of place eye gestures, like sudden popping of eyes when asked something.

After virtually writing down our resumes in detail we got down on the ground where the amateurs were supposed to warm up.

The “chiratta parayil urakkunna” voice cut through the tranquility,

“Head turn, shoulder twist, Toe- touch, Side-bends, Sit ups 15 times each …..NOW!!”

Puff, pant, puff, and puff again, one pant, puff puff puff puff puff, paant, PUFFFFF!!

Visibly shaken and drained,
“Sir …..I, we ….”

“Over with that? Ok…..Push ups on the bar, 15 times, NOW!!”

Instinct told me I was in hell, and it was Yamraj in front of me in the v-vest and tracks. Well, hmm, the buffalo was missing though.

I managed eight and looked back at the “over grown lump of muscle” expecting a word of praise.

“Eight? And the other seven, who’s gonna do that for you huh?!!”

“Ehh? Sir..hmm tomorrow ..”

My friends managed nothing better [: D].

CASUALTIES:

1) Elbow muscles disagreeing to turn and twist, like an undisciplined toddler.
2) Legs give an odd creaky sound when stretched; something like what the “bhargavinilayam” door would produce when opened.
3) Field of vision reduced substantially (have to bend around to see anything other than what’s in the obverse)
4) Lost the sense of existence of my neck, feels like ma head is in suspended equilibrium over a column of nothingness(the height of which is f***** inscrutable) above moi shoulder!!

tHe dOor bEhInD

2006-11-24T16:07:00.000+05:30

I had written about a certain guy in one of my posts…..Flip Side. The story continues…

After two months, now she gathered enough hatred or may be discovered that there’s no more meaning in having someone, who bear no more significance to her anymore, testify her. She went one down on the testimonial count.

Understandably so.

He never expected that to happen though. Not ‘coz he thought she wouldn’t ever be so rude, but coz he never thought she would still be thinking about this, him n them.
He realizes though, that she is not to blame. She was just being herself and he was being himself and they never could be in sync, and that was a truth they both knew. Believing a bridge on fire wouldn’t collapse, doesn’t make the bridge fire proof. But it delays, not the inevitable; but it delays the comprehension of the truth. It delays the time of understanding, of accepting the truth.

Cast Away-1

2006-11-23T23:23:00.000+05:30

Crushing the still hot paper cup in his hand, he lifted the ventilator screen. Bending down he tried to read the time off his watch in the glow of the dim under-seat lights. It was past six. Leaning back he looked out through the window, in to the horizon. The last streaks of the evening sun were retreating back in to the oceanic depths, and the orange plume at the far end gave the sky the look of a colorful canvass, forgotten and left to its fate by the inattentive artist.

Sitting in the deserted cabin of the second class carriage, he cursed his fate. Clutching the end of the wet daily sticking out from his coat pocket, he moaned. Close to 800 people died in the train fire, none was expected to have escaped. The raging river in spate below the bridge ensured that. The daily had reported. He wasn’t crying. The father of a soldier isn’t supposed to cry, his son used to remind him. He remembered his wife; she hadn’t yet come to terms with the reality.

“He might call any time now, he calls around this time usually. Peter, he can’t be dead. He can’t leave us this way. He’s just …he’s just tricking us Peter, isn’t he Peter? ..Pete”

Albeit muffled in the cries, her voice was still distinct, as she struggled helplessly to come up with reasons every time to believe he’s still alive.

Back at the camp station he was summoned to search among the hundreds for his son, come up with a few identification marks. The faces were charred beyond recognition.

He wasn’t among them.

Scrunching his teeth, taking small gasps of air, trying hard not to shed a tear, he sighed,

“God, I’m a father and that…. was my son. Didn’t my prayers hear in heaven? What shall I tell his mother? You didn’t give me a chance to serve his rites. What do I have left to pray for now?”

The train screeched to a stop at the station. And the cries of the hawker grabbed his attention. Half a mile distant an overpass lay singed to the footing, laying to rest a thousand souls in the process. Some tens of meters deep in those waters his son had his last vision of the world. He sensed movement in the adjacent cabin; some had taken the chalet next to him, and they were happy it seemed. The train hooted and carried on with its solitary voyage.

Cast Away -2

2006-11-23T22:48:00.000+05:30

From across the wood partition was coming cries of laughter, they were merry. Something felt strangely familiar about the voice. He thought, and he realized it had to be. Their voices carried that sense of happiness that he first had when he witnessed the birth of his son. The joy of a new birth. A new life. But that element had retired from his bag of humor. The thought that he was bereft of even hope, that he didn’t have anything but tears and grief and the memoirs of a dream undone was sickening. Joy was alien to him and the sound of it was throbbing, like light to the prisoner of darkness.

It was strange how close grief was to joy. There a mere 2 inches across the wall it was a world he had built his dreams in. A world that was his home, n then the tide came and he was cast away, never …. to return. So close, yet, so far. Something in those voices opened up the fresh bruises of his heart. He heard his son calling out to him when he bought him his first rocking horse.

“Dad, see. The back of my horse must be hurting, he would need a saddle.”

He had smiled at that,

“Red one, dad. I need a red one. And a cowboy hat to go with it”

And his lips would stretch to lengths they never before did. Joy it seemed was caught for ever in his memories, and they remained confined to the memories.

The laughter from across the cabin was now getting unbearable. He didn’t want to hear them anymore. He was in the desert and Joy was the water bearer filling the chalice of hope and when he would try to hold it, the cup would crumble, made it was of the sands, happiness slipping through his fingers. The wily Joy would then look at him and taunt him and tease him, and he would continue his travail only to be fooled again.

He knew he could take this no more, the voices were only getting louder and merrier. He got up determined was he. He yearned for his own space around him, which he knew had to be devoid of joy and happiness and smiles and laughter and hope and dreams. As he made his way across the compartment, he smiled. He wasn’t faltering. The voices were getting louder still and strangely something felt familiar even then, and that was odd. He had bid goodbye to their world and yet ….
Something in him told him he was smiling, and he didn’t know why and he felt guilty. He stepped in to the cabin, turned his head around to where the voice came from and looked in to his son’s eyes.

AFTERLIFE 2......continued from 1

2006-11-18T15:47:00.000+05:30

It would soon be dawn. He knew. And that would be the first morning she wouldn’t kiss him awake. That, would be the first day, he wouldn’t kiss her asleep.

He sat with her. Occasionally a leaf in the breeze would land on the coat and he would carefully lift it away. Michelle wanted things in place always, he remembered.
At times when the chill gets in to his bones he would give a start and then as a watchman who dozed off during his duty time, feeling conscience guilty, he would make sure she was asleep. He would bring his ear close to the slab and listen for sounds. Making sure that there wasn’t any, he would retire, only until the next time.

The cold was getting severe. He tried to cuddle up as much as possible. Stretching out the elastic of his French made trousers he tried to get his hands underneath them. He let out a cry of relief, as the warmth of the fine cotton caressed his hand. It felt like a thousand pincers working on his skin when he tried to move his toes, they had lost all sense of feel. Tired, he gave it up. He smiled again,

“Sleep well my darling. I’m doin’ fine here.”

He brought from behind his back the hand, n let loose the crossed fingers,

“Never knew I was so smart”, saying that he tried to smile, the pain notwithstanding.

It was getting hard to breathe, the air growing thicker

“Forgive me Michelle, I lied.” ……..He whispered to her, n then grief overcame his pain. Shivering half nude in the chilly wind, he cried.

Lying on his lap, she was dying, smiling. Sixty miles from the nearest hospice, she was doing a bad job keeping herself alive. The blood wouldn’t stop flowing. The doctors had sealed her doors to hope saying her blood couldn’t clot. He tried to close the wound with his palm. Hope dawned on his face, and he could see that smile infecting her face. He smiled at her, pressing her palm in his hand reassuringly. She smiled, of joy this time. And then he felt the trickle. Like paint flowing down the canvass, the smile faded. Looking for support, as always, he looked at her, hoping that she would never know the truth, hoping .....to see her smile.

She wasn’t.

The Ford Anglia lay shattered to the hub a few feet away. He was alive and that was a truth he regretted knowing as he heard her saying, even as her pulse slowed down,

“Fred, I’m sorry Fred… I couldn’t go all the way with you….But I tried Fred….. I did.”

And he cried still, muffled as they were, he choked out, kissing the marble slab,

“I’m sorry Michelle, I never wanted to lay you down like this, all alone here, like this. I’m ….just ….so sorry. I …will have to leave soon too Michelle, and…… when I’m gone, don’t be sad. Don’t be. I’ve loved you.”

And just as he was raising his head, he heard her,

“Sleep well my darling, the winds might take their fury on you, the night might maroon you in this gloom. But I……am with you. Let me kiss you and warm you. Let me hold your hand and show you the cozy corners of my bosom, sleep you there. For all eternity, destined to be yours I lie here.”

Smiling reassured, he closed his eyes, and wiping the crimson that was dripping down his nose, he slept.

AFTERLIFE 1

2006-11-18T15:31:00.000+05:30

“Bye”, she said.
And she smiled at him. His face hurt as he tried to smile, the skin trying to hold together under the vestiges of the dried away tears.

She was floating away, her soft feet leaving the cobbled path and her hair all ruffled up in the wind that was blowing strong. He made attempts to scream at her not to go, but the voice wouldn’t come. He was helpless, she was going away. His brows curled in, his eyes drooped. The fetters tied to his feet wouldn’t let him move. He grasped his throat and tried to cough out a “no”….he opened his mouth and strived to make some sound. He heard the flat tone of the air passing over his wind pipe n nothing else. She was slowly fading away and out of his vision. Stretching out his hands, he shut his eyes hard.

The sudden flash of light blinded him and slowly the image of the cop with the torchlight registered in his mind. The guy in black looked at him for sometime making incoherent sounds and then walked away. The air was heavy, and dawn was closing in. The oak trees that lined the far end of vision lend the atmosphere an eerie feel. He tried to lift his hands and found they had gone numb, resting on the frigid marble slab all night. He read the writing on marble, breathing hard,

In Loving memory of,
Mrs. Michelle Frederick

Born on: 9th July 1920 Expired on: 13th June 1943
“I was the candle and she, my light; the light blown out, I stay stranded; impotent to feel, numb and destroyed……………………………… I live, your afterlife.”

He glided his fingers across the script and closed his eyes and tried to feel her. She was down there, he knew it. She must be smiling, he thought. She must be happy. She lived all her life with him, now she rests with that sense of completion. He…….he has been left behind, to pick up the pieces and …….lead a …life?

Grinning uncontrollably, he whispered to the marble scripture,

“Heard ‘em dear? People go nuts so easy!”

The air was chilly and he could feel his throat going drier and drier each passing moment. He asked her feebly,

“Darling, are you feeling cold? Haah!! You must be. They didn’t even spare a woolen did they? Rascals.”

He untied his coat button, and removed it. He spread the dark black clothing on the marble slab and adjusted the edges n corners to cover the stone perfectly. Satisfied with his work, he moved back, his naked torso shivering in the frosty breeze, and observed her.

“She must be feeling better.” he said to himself, his teeth clattering in the cold.

Moving closer to her, he kneeled down and stroked his hands over the marble piece, gently. She had always loved it when he used to do that…………he saw his hands wavering and he smiled,

“Don’t worry, Michelle. I’m not dying that easy.”

Never Gone-1

2006-11-09T15:06:00.000+05:30

He took the cigar that was refusing to smoke and tried to light it again. Glancing across the table, he found the cigar pack lying empty. Visibly disappointed, adjusting the specs he stood up and walked across the gently lit room passing the red leather couch that his mother had presented him with when finally after four years of toil he had earned his graduation. Of late he had started to get used to the faint orange light from the carbon lamp. There wasn’t much that he could see in that light. But he never required anything better. He reached for the switch and turned it on. He quipped at his reflection in the wash mirror.

“Ahh I look good in Yellow light. Forgot to tell her that, no wonder…..”

He never had told her anything. He let out a cry of relief as the ginger cold waters hit his face. Holding the edge of the basin with his hands he stood there slowly trying to sink in to the truth. There was precious little he could do against. Racing his fingers through the beard that had grown unchecked he tried to feel the skin beneath.
Numb.
Twitching suddenly he grasped his left wrist. A smile spread across his lips. The signs of his last attempt. The mark was still, as against what the doctors told, very distinct. He whispered ghastly at the skinny reflection in the mirror;

“Looks like we’ve space for more” …and helped himself to a faint chuckle.

Seven autumns it was since he first saw her. And all along it was strange. Just …..plain strange. There was nothing different, just the same old fabled college friendship-turned-love. Still everything seemed strange, each moment had born with the stamp of weirdness. Each next pulse seemed to be different beyond any fore telling. She was not an angel. She was not a diva who swept everyone off their feet. She was not an extraordinarily talented girl who could make people dance to her tunes. She was …just….her and he was him and he knew they were born to be together. Just that she remained ignorant of that fact…….

He made his way back to the couch. The room was rather messy, but he reckoned it was better than the last day, courtesy the doctor who had given him a visit that morning. The papers were all ruffled up on the study; scanning through the lot, his eyes fell on it. He said to himself as he took it up to have ‘yet another’ close look.

“Finally the last nail…….”

Invitation to attend his own last rites, haaa that definitely sounded funny.

Ms. Emma Dawson weds Mr. Raleigh Foreman

She was expecting his and his “family’s” esteemed presence it said,

“hhhhugh”, he took a small deep breath and…….. paused. The faint breath seemed to resound for ever. He was, of late trying to avoid sounds; they ….were not ….nice; he felt.

“family? ….hmm family, …..yeah ..my ….family”

He wrote with his finger in the air,

“How to Make a Family in Two hours” by Mr. Sean Beth

and then before that lop sided grin could complete, he felt his forehead curling …….and ….he cried.

He grinned again, imagining himself in the mirror and making sure he was looking presentable. ….hmmmm …well, kinda.
The ship time table book was on the table, he had been using it quite a lot these days. He had a reason. But then, he had always had his reasons. He took it up and checked the departure time of Elizabeth. 16:30 hrs. “Just right” he thought. He had just about enough time to get ready. It was time to shake of the languor. He got up and went for the mirror again and made definite plans …he had the beard to be shaved, the hair had to be cut, and for the suit, he had one, better say his doctor rented him one for the day. The doctor had asked him;

“What for Sean?”

And he had answered,

“ohh hmm I’ve got an old friend to catch up with.”

Never Gone-2

2006-11-09T15:05:00.000+05:30

The gentleman in fine suit attracted eyes all around. He could see people throwing secret glances at him obviously wondering who the stranger was. But there was one, who knew the stranger. ……………She greeted him wonderfully well, showed him to the groom who he reckoned was only better than him in giving handshakes. He laughed at that lie. The guy was better; he knew it, he had just beaten him at the perfect game. Disappointment it wasn’t. Just that feeling of absolution in the moment of realization of something that he had known all along.

She was still looking beautiful.

And then, when he was finally parting, he caught eyes with her again. She came to him, absolute grace personified, he wondered ……….
He wondered if he could just spread his arms wide open, she would come in to it. He wondered if he could just live that dream forever. He felt the reel rolling, …… he felt his arms locking around her and then her leaning up on her toes ,and then suddenly someone hitting the pause button……….he wished he could get caught in that frame for ever.

She was waving her hand,….still in the distance. He knew he had to smile. He did.

He was walking back. He had 15 minutes to get to the dock. Took a cab.

“Money was not a matter of bother any more”, he heard himself saying as he got in to it.

The siren of the buses behind tempted him. Every passing cab was another opportunity missed. He kept saying to himself …

“Hold on Sean, hold on. You’ve got a whole ship waiting”

And he smiled at that, he’s always been in love with ships. And Elizabeth was the perfect choice. He checked his coat pocket and took out all that he could get his hands on. He had 23 dollars and 12 cents to be exact and then the exquisite cigar box. He wondered if he had enough time to light one.

“Nope! Too late to be burning another one.”

They had reached the dock, and he could hear the siren blowing already. The queen was waiting. He felt jealous for the people running helter-skelter, happy they were,their future bright; but then happiness is not all that you live for; and then any way he was happy. He found comfort in that. On a second thought he understood he didn’t have any thing else to fall back upon for a reason.

Time was running out.

Never Gone-3

2006-11-09T14:40:00.000+05:30

His cabin was generously decked up. After all it was not for nothing that he shelled out almost all that he had left with him. The room was definitely better than he expected. He had the champagne waiting for him on the table, the bedspread was laid out and shining.

“Now to find someone to sleep on this!!”

He looked at the grandfather clock at the corner and found it was already too late. Hastily getting in to the night robes he slipped out after scribbling something on what seemed like a piece of paper. He ambled out on to the prime deck.

He took a deep whiff of air in and let it out slowly, draining out the freshness in the misty air. The starry bride of the moon was all decked up. He walked up to the tip of Elizabeth, and looked down. The bottle-nosed ones were in pursuit, jumping at times up n then down. They were enjoying the late night stroll definitely. He heard him asking,

“Are you hungry dears?”

The Ebony wood planks that made the floor, the metallic silvery gleam of the rails and above all, the feeling of being in the middle of no where was definitely worth this life. He thought. He looked out in to the horizon and then the huge warning bell over the watch post…………Then the bell chimed and the priest came.

He saw everyone around and behind him looking back to the entrance. Following their glances he saw angel coming. The flowery crown that was on her head, the spotless white linen stroking the floor behind her and the people there …..All were looking patrified at the absolute beauty that was coming their way. She was smiling and he saw that and he knew it was all for him…just for him. Every step she took towards him seemed to last forever, he was writhing in pain in his mind to be with her. He knew he was going to have her by his side for all eternity; but the wait seemed so agonizing. Among the muffled praises that were being showered on her, among all those there, they were alone and together still. He could hear her saying,

“aah, I don’t like crowds Sean. Sean, help me. Hold my hand Sean and ….take me with you.”

She was so close now. He felt his soul being sucked in to her, it was painful but he didn’t want to stop it. He felt secure nowhere but inside her.
She stepped on to the platform, shoulder to shoulder with him. The priest was smiling, so were the entire horde there. But that didn’t matter. She was not smiling anymore……and that alone mattered. He saw the crystal beads running down her cheeks. He went for them, trying to catch them before the air could kiss it, before it goes down to where everyone’s tears go. She was special, she deserved better. He felt his hands stretching, he leaned forward, his face trying hard to draw out that extra inch, he felt his feet leaving the frosty rails and, he fell.

Another morning dawned. The man was last seen in his night robes, the surveillance camera revealed. The suite was checked. A package addressed to Dr. Smith, 12 dollars and some change, a cab fare ticket and an invitation to the reception of Ms. Emma and Mr. Rayleigh and a pack of The Elite Caribbean cigars were found; and then from under the champagne bottle a scrap of paper that said,

“Thank you, Elizabeth for this night with you. .......But I’ve got someone else waiting. Bye”

He was falling, and falling still. It felt like it was ages since he started off.
His voice resounded against the frothing waters.

“Don’t cry Emma, I’ll be waiting. Hey, dolphin darlings be easy on me.”

aGaInSt tHe oDdz

2006-10-31T17:21:00.000+05:30

Caught between the virtue and the vice, I live. I see the virtue and I try to live by them. I see the vice and try not to heed the invitation. Still I find that I’m no different from them. They cheat on others, I cheat on myself.
They rape innocent 5 yr olds, I rape my conscience.

I give in, give in to the innumerable lures that surround me, that tells me its easier to be bad than trying to be good, just swaddle your conscience in the drapes of pretence n nothing else would seem easier to be than the devil’s accomplice. Hell what else are you trying to be good?

I accused others of being insincere, of not understanding me, of not opening their eyes to the truth. I forgot that I belonged amongst them. Just another one in the horde.

Hope.
And loads of it is what fuels your life and honestly it’s the only thing you don’t need to pay for in this world where relations are fast becoming merchandise.
And me being the one among those few who have little to put at stake, hell those I had I’ve already lost.……except of course my best buddy, Hope.
It doesn’t take you that long to raise your hand and be noticed and may be it will take me another few min to come out of the confines of the crowd and see the horde behind me …….then shall I despise them, the way I’ve always wanted to see them. Worthless hypocrites. People who believe they are living their life and self love is the greatest love. People who find no difference between pretending and feeling. People who are afraid to be themselves. People who tell me they know where to limit their relations. D.I.S.G.U.S.T.I.N.G

Why can’t we just be ourselves, why can’t we just not worry about the future and live the way our heart tells us?
Why can’t we just give in to our feelings?
And just why the bloody burning hell do we need to screen our emotions?

Just why.

SONG: Sharan feat. Mr Sting a.k.a Bee

2006-10-17T23:28:00.000+05:30

Common Name:Honeybee
Scientific Name:Apis mellifera
Awards:State Insect of Kansas (1976),Arkansas (1973), Georgia (1975),Louisiana (1975), Maine (1975),Mississippi (1980), Missouri (1985),Nebraska (1974), New Jersey (1974),North Carolina (1973), Oklahoma (1992),South Dakota (1978), Tennessee (1990),Utah (1983), Vermont (1978),Wisconsin (1977)

“One of the most familiar insects in the world is the Honeybee. This member of the insect order Hymenoptera plays a key role in the human and natural world. More has been written about honeybees than any other species of insect. The human fascination with this insect began thousands of years ago when people discovered what wonderfully tasty stuff honey is!”

For a change, this time apparently the bees were more fascinated with us!

The ‘bones-only’ chicken from the canteen as always gave us short fits of inspiration to write another “Economic India” n thus find ourselves short listed for the Nobel and other wilder things in life n beyond, whatever that means. Done with the scavenging of the most ignoble kind, we went for the wash and the fateful voice sounded in the not so far distance.

“heyy where did this come from?”

‘What’ seemed more situational than ‘where’ n it was answered by a struggling insect in the wash basin that acc to an entomologist could have been classified as one belonging to the order ‘hymenoptera’ with a sting that can hurt, as in, HURT !!
Now one bee that was apparently breathing its last couldn’t hurt you.could it?

Well, think about a whole hive of them ! ………..promising aint it?

Out of the canteen, me n my buddy were walking up the road that led to the mechanical block, undeterred by ‘the’ bee. Now then, I was telling him something n suddenly everything I said seemed to be backed by a strong background music. Smart as I’m, I knew it wasn’t any virtual I-pod …..

The next thing I knew ……

I was running.

I could hear the scream of my friend fading in the distance. I comprehended, he mite juz get a little too far to ever get back!!
I saw my beloved mech block thinning away in front of my eyes, the stone stairs that lead up to the ‘sargam’ stage, I would miss it all. Sigh !!
Then came salvation, I saw the corporative store room opened and the keeper was standing at the door n waving at me n shouting something that felt something like,

“heyy don’t run in here !! not here “

Well, you can guess what happened there then. I ran right in.

After what seemed to be a series of just raw swearing the guy explained to me that by the looks of it, n certainly with the kind of ‘bee’ following I had juz a li'l while ago I might just get a chance to treat all of them to idli n sambar on my sanjayanam….whatever that’s called in English!

By that time a huge group of guys had flocked in the room and they were all frantically searching for the black sting heads. I was too busy framing out what to do in my immediate future, for it seemed I had no distant future, to waste time searching for the sign of inevitability, the stings that is.
Well, as they say, it was time for my swan song. A gal had juz rushed in smothered by another fare mob of bees and she was ...........looking for help !! lol
The better Angel in me rose to the situation with a hard bind record book in hand and started beating the shit out of the stingy li’l devils. The swan song ended with a sad note. The no-manners-taught gal walked out promptly with not so much as a ‘thanks’ and I was left back fondling what all could have happened had she been mannered and had the store been a garden full of the daffodils and had the time been twilight and had I been Brad Pitt and had she been Angelina Jolie and had I been not stung by the bees and had I not faced the prospect of an immediate passport to heaven (for obvious reasons!!).

After what seemed like a few million ages I tried to sneak out and almost got a nitrox boost to heaven from what seemed a few tens of bees. The keeper quipped,

“The bees seem particularly interested in you my boy. Thank you so much for being here with us n making sure even we don’t escape being stung”

A rare sense of pride and what not sprang up in a corner of my heart.

Another few million ages later I gathered all my guts and got out. Checked for signs of another bee 'concert' and having traced the easiest path to that, which being a nano-inch or so distant from my right ear precisely, resorted to the only escapade I knew. I ran. It could have been the day I set foot in to the ‘LAC’ [Ladies Amenities Centre] but for my sense of righteousness. I bore the sting and ran still in to the lobby. There was no sign of my dear friend, who by now I hoped was waiting for me, god n me-knows-where.
Before long, the entire Chavadimukku residency was ‘buzzing’ with activity.

And for all that you need to thank the mech seniors who were so inquisitive about the action of a parabolically thrown stone at a bee hive.

Later in the day I found out that my friend was alive and not-exactly-kicking but he vouched he could do some kind of hand gesture which only required him to move his middle finger and that too surprisingly only when I reminded him of my leaving-behind-friend-to-the-bees act that was, if you’d remember, carried out juz that afternoon. How very touching .aint it?
And more importantly the writer, ie me, didn’t suffer one bloody stinging sting. Which acc to me is more baffling than the eternally to-be thought about 'how I got in to cet' puzzle.

Words of wisdom

Friends, as a person who quite nearly laid out his life at the altar of the fucking queen of the fucking bee hive, I request you to use AXE-voodoo whenever you are faced with an imminent live jam by bees. I had used it that day and found out that apart from increasing your general likeability(which I gather from the kinda bee following I had that day) you also escape being stung. And I shall add at this point, I’ve not been handed any kind of incentive in money form or otherwise for promoting the use of the ‘axe’ gear.

With love, yours truly.

about meat rolls n all that

2006-10-07T22:30:00.000+05:30

“chetta oru meat roll”

Biting in to the fluffy roll, sitting at Lord’s silhouetted against the “piece”ful ladies hostel its adieu to tensions.

Six hours of total nonsense is what awaits me at my College. There are four columns of benches arranged ….but then balcony seats are always in vogue. I’ve got myself a seat in the last bench that’s kinda baptized with my name. But then first come first serve is the name of the game n the late entry of my college bus always leaves enough room for that probability.

The benches are not exactly cozy but

“Gathi kettal Puli pullum thinnum” ………needless to say I’m the puli referred to.

Rare enough room no: 359 gets blessed by Ms Angel n abodes me for 3 regular class hours. After that comes what college going means for me …….hmm yeah spending 25 rupees everyday for lunch doesn’t seem a good idea. Still ….

We saunter out in to the main road and make a bee line for Lord’s. Barge in there and indulge ourselves in the rolls n puffs n shakes n what not. Have enough cash to indulge a bit more? There’s always the Lord’s restaurant to do some serious gobbling. The only hitch is instead of regular appetizers they give it all up to time. So unless you are sure you’ve got enough attendance for the fourth hour and can do some bunking, don’t walk in to show your appetite…..n yeah don’t forget the purse( they’ve got automated grinders n dishwashers so “athum pattilla” !! lol)

And about the ladies hostel ………..ahh what say!! You order for meat rolls n you dream of giving away mouthfuls!! (Aaargh!! I can be naughty)