Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Alien World

Eyes so pure, twinkling in the searing sun.
The pounding heart knew no pain, all but one..

The scorching heat reflected from his already burnt skin. The torn red tee shirt and blue wornout shorts hardly did any good. Immune, he continued playing this rather bizarre game. He'd fill a hollow plastic ball with mud (picking the mud with his bare hands), and hurl it towards his other charcoal friend, with all the might in his frail arms. The ball would simply roll, the mud pouring out uncontrollably; like the life running out on a cancer patient. The other kid, running barefeet on gravel and stones, would pick it and then have a go at it himself. This monotonous banal recreation miraculously seemed to generate such incredulous amounts of exhilaration and uncorruptable joy in the kids, you'd be amazed. They defied the prime law of physics, creating joy out of nothing..

No elixir can rival the fountain of youth.
For a senile brain is, The Keeper of Truth.

Not very far, his grandfather watched the little Hercules. The old man had lived in this world for too long. He lay back on a plastic chair. He wore a white cap, white clothes, but a dark skin. Life had sucked all the life out of him. All that was left to do, was to wait. His foot was infected, obnoxiously swollen, a typical case of elephantitis. He closed his eyes, exhausted by the breathing. A fly flew annoyingly on his face, but he couldn't care less. The peaceful hackneyed afternoon, scented by the smell of human perspiration, was perfect for his nap. He hummed to the sound of periodic beating of clothes on a stone rock, nearby..

Only a mother, alone, can thwart adversity's threat.
The hand that rocked the cradle, also, broke a sweat..

She slogged, and slogged, without the slightest hint of dissent. She fed, she cleaned, she earned. The Vim washing powder contrasted on her black sturdy hands as she washed the clothes, and hung them on the barbed wire which formed the compound for their house that had walls made of tin and hearts made of gold. Eyeing an occasional customer, she'd leave the open air laundry and walk to her adjacent general store, with an air of an heiress. Life couldn't break her, not in a million years. She could weep without shedding a tear. And her little Hercules would one day make all the crying go away. It is impossible to measure a mother's love, yet more difficult, to defeat..

These souls lived for family, love and a modest meal.
Welcome to the Alien World, where life had a simpler feel..

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Behind Enemy Lines

God called. It was 3 in the night. I picked up, "God, do you know what time it is? You've been drinking again, haven't you?" He din't laugh. My heart tensed, this wasn't the usual katzenjammer. He seemed anxious, I heard him out. Clearly, this cause celebre was more grave than Global warning. And I bring His message to you.

He explained, that since the origin of mankind, He impregnated differences in Men and Women. Sure Adam and Eve fought a lot, but He wished that we appreciate and learn to love the dissimilarities and how they complete us. He gave us different planets, colors, hobbies, lifestyles. However, recently, men and women have been treading, exploring, crossing the hypothetical line that separates us, gives us our distinct identities. And this has upset Him, tremendously. Upon the breach of the Treaty of Forbidden Trespassing, he came up with The Doctrine of Justifiable Penetration beyond the Enemy Line. In this, He elaborates upon those qualities which He finds "totally un-cool" and are better off with their original patrons.

For example, He pointed out that Men have come to deal with their emotions and are more open about it. Now what the hell is that all about? The fact that you are a Y chromosome inheriting meathead, means that you are not expected to be a sensitive emotional cry baby. Get over a heartbreak or a lost job with dizzying alcoholic consumption and the normal debauchery. Why get all worked up and touchy?
Also, stop watching Romantic Chic Flicks. And wearing pink. And gossiping.

In the words of the Almighty, "Totally Un-cool".

For the 'fe-males', He observed that there has been an alarming rise in the interest levels of women in sports, cricket particularly. Clearly an attempt to involve themselves in mens' conversations. What I can't seem to figure out is what you'll find fascinating in, say, cricket? The Cheerleaders are for us and the players are hairy baldies; obese lethargic old men pushing themselves to their physical limit. Girls, you'll don't have the hormones for this, just get over it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a sexist or a male chauvinistic pig. I just don't get it. Another highly disturbing sport is
Lingerie Football League.
And also the Miss Mighty Mus-cle-sons. The quest for independence has gone a bit too far. Do you'll wish to be able to pick up your husbands? You'll let the gyming and motorcycles be with the men, and focus on being slim, sweet and sultry.

For more details on the doctrine, please contact me on .

It's time to back off into our own territories. Slow down on The Race to Neuterization. God calls upon us to "Do Thy Bidding".

It's not too late.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

The Equation of Periodic Emotions

I have come to understand the segmentation of the life we live. We have a good time, then we have a bad time. The highs and the lows, the ups and the downs, the wows and the eews, the 'please screw me' and the 'oh screw you'. Time is periodic, the vicious circle, so to speak, continues eternally. But with my unmatched ingenuity and astute observational skills, i have come to formulate life and emotions.

Allow me to demonstrate.

When you're 5, it's the worst time of your life, pre nursesry, people think you're cute and pull your cheeks, flash pictures, give hugsie pugsie. Life's a lovebathed mess.

But it improves. You're 10. Oh You start understanding, appreciating and loving, the difference between girl and boy. Fashion Tv. Puppy love. You know of love, not lust. A smile is more precious than a hug. By far the most romantic you'll ever be in your life.

However things start rolling downslope from that point onwards. Hit rockbottom when you become 15. Puberty hits in. Urges and hormones govern your actions. On top of that, you have to "focus" and remain "un-distracted" for your 10th grade. Classic Mind versus Body. The verb 'do' gets a whole new meaning. Mayhem personified.

Things eventually settle down. Skies get blue-er, nights get long-er. And you're 20. Mind & Body are unanimous once again. It's Legal. Welcome to Adulthood. And the Pleasures. Parents can't ground you. You can frequently take trips down the slippery slope of alcohol and dope, end up semiconscious with more-than-easy desperadoes in dark loomy flats with numbing music and indiscriminate love. Sheer bliss.

But It's too good to be true. Adulthood brings responsibility. When you reach 25, you don't have a home, no girlfriend, no three night parties. Instead you have a job, a career, pimply colleagues, dictating bosses. You're overworked and underpaid, superbusy and underlaid. You KissAss and get KickAss. Welcome to Hell on Earth.

You slog and drag, your oversized chairstuck butts to see the dawn when you're 30. You're hard work has paid off, you have some saved up some cash, a nice car, friends, and ASSISTANTS. You party like you'll never party again. Shake like Shakira. Rediscover the lost child in you. Last 'shots' at life.

But oh, you've reached 35. Disaster. Marriage. And you're trying to have kids. Bravo. You wonder what went wrong. How'd you end up with hormonal neurotics and careless crappers. Life is now all about the diapers and poopers. You fight, you cry, and you try. Man down, over and out.

Oh but there's a ray of hope, for the survivors. Alas, you're 40. Kids have grown up, your better half has better people to hang out with. A taste of independence. You can go out of the house, play pool, smoke a cig, a couple of beers and same ol' good friends. You've done your part, an attempt at making a difference, and you've lost honorably. Now it's your time to give up the reign and lay back. aaah. Is this heaven or what.

And then comes the end. You're 45. Say hello to arthritis and osteoporosis, blood pressure and diabetes. You can no longer stand up to things or make things stand up. You look at your kids going through the same cycle, you reflect on the amazing journey of life, you smile, cough, have a stroke and die.

R.I.P amigo.

P.S. : People may live longer, but they are never able to come out of Stage 45. It's a dark time. (Shudder).

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Christmas Blues

Christmas is more green than blue, literally speaking. but post Christmas is for sure blue ! I got so used to the special Christmas treatment throughout the week, that 'now' feels like a bad hangover.

Christmas spoils you like a rich boyfriend, love smitten, till the girl puts out. It all begins with the frosty weather. For Indians, who spend 2/3rds of their lives sweating, a chill is the battle half won. Then there are the work holidays. For Indians, who spend 9/10th of their lives working, a national weekend vacation is like the remaining battle won. Game over. Christmas says what you love to hear, gives what you love to have. Christmas is a player.

But being a student already pampered by parents, unemployed, no love for anything, it gets tricky for Christmas to make us it's b****. Oh but like any spoilt millionaire kid in any movie, it finally has its way. The constant indulgence and attention makes you feel like it's all about you. The songs on VH1, the movies, the news, the caller tunes. Hanging out with friends, there is this christmaasssy feel in the air, that makes your inner self vibrate with unexplainable holiday ecstasy. Santa is on the loose and everybody is busy deciding what they want for Christmas from him. The gift list ultimately turns into a shopping list, with a startled father or husband playing Santa, and being robbed. They air Christmas special NBA and EPL matches that make you nervous with excitement. You have the mind images of the Christmas tree decorated and glowing, the wrapped presents, the snow, the traditional food and wine. If you are a Christian and don't have to live with only dreaming about these things like me, then good for you, you lucky bastard. You can feel the gooey happiness oozing out of you, it's impossible not to give in to Christmas and the week that precedes it. You know where you're gonna end up on Christmas night, in bed with Christmas. Sigh. So much for celibacy.

And the next day you wake up, and find yourself in an empty bed, with flashes and fragments of memories of the last night. You slowly get the feeling of disgust and loneliness. You feel violated, heartbroken, used. Christmas is gone. You knew this would happen, it was stupid to think it could be real, that it meant something. You get up, put on your clothes, and walk the famous walk of shame, yet again. Your life will never be the same.

Reminds me of a couple of lines from this classic Christmas song,
Last Christmas by Wham -

" Last Christmas I gave you my Heart,
The very next day, you gave it away ! "

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

The Three Vice Monkeys

You'll have probably met Mizaru, Kikazaru and Iwazaru, The Three Wise Monkeys. For centuries, they've helped us deal with evil, albeit in a peaceful way. Thank you.

But now, thanks to WikiLeaks, I bring to you'll, The Three Vice Monkeys, the actual evil monkeys, that the aforementioned monkeys ask to be weary of.

1. The First Vice Monkey : Friends

These are found growing around you, in plenty, they appear friendly (well cause they are friends !) but beware, are very dangerous. They have perfected the art of deception. They can wreak havoc with their two famous mighty weapons - undetectable by even the urine test, jealousy and their unmatchable stupidity. Their strength is alarming, and with all the unprotected monkeying around, their number is growing in leaps and bounds. But in all fairness, you and I, are somebody's monkeys too. We all have been instructed by 'The Ethical Protocol for Ideal Apelike Behavior' wherein say, article 22 states "A Monkey in Need is a Monkey Indeed " or article 37, " Monkeys before Donkeys " in parallel to 'bros before hoes' but lets face it. being the baboons that we are, we always mess things up. A word of advice, don't trust and don't lust.

2. The Second Vice Monkey : Trends of the Society

This monkey, has repeatedly and consistently, ruined the quality of life for all apekind. It spreads like an epidemic, cursing one and all. Some notorious examples are, engineering, facebook, religion, online matrimony. already running short on the brain supplies, this monkey influences and dictates our behavior to an irreparable extent. With the ever increasing list of faux pas and dos-and-donts, it's hard to not act like a brute. You can't let yourself feel insecure if you don't know about cars or politics or sitcoms or parties or technology or sports or music or movies or wall street or geography or everything else in the world. geeesh, it's not like we're an encyclopaedia. But unfortunately, to be the dude of the society and not an outcast, you gotta know it all. You can always pray to our God,
Mojo Jojo, for some help. Or there's always Google. It'd be best to not let this monkey get into your head.

3. The Third Vice Monkey : Love

This symbolic monkey is the most lethal of all. His Business Agent, Cupid, will hit you when you least expect. Don't let your guards down for even a second. We've all heard of great ambitious monkeys perish like dust when up against this mighty demonic King Kong. also, may i remind you, as the movie story goes, this demon itself, was killed by love, ironically speaking. yet another proof of "The beauty killed the beast" therefore it be of utmost importance, that you protect yourself. this very threat to our primate existence has been placed on the top, followed by Osama and Global warming. The World Health Organisation (WHO) has recommended the following measures - no exchanging phone numbers, no late night chatting, no gifts, no kind gestures, no CCDs, no using ":*", no nothing. Just be monkeys, for Mojo Jojo's sake.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

A lot can happen over Koffee

you know better. you know the urge, the excitement. it's always ended in disappointment, but you never learn. your heart asks you to believe, just the one more time. hope. tempting you to go for it. but you're scared. you know how its let you down, time and again. in the end, you've come to the conclusion its just a waste of time. you promise yourself never to fall for it again.

but this, this time you're sure its different. you can feel it is right. glimpses of the possibilities, trailers, give you goose bums. heart beats faster, your breath becomes shorter. it's the pull of the taboo, the curiosity of the unknowns. you know what you have to do. quoting lily, "it's a mistake you have to make."

you ignore your pragmatic brain rebelling, and deny all rational and statistics. the music starts playing, it's time. the trance is strong. there's the suits and the coffee beans. you feel like the celeb, romancing, gossiping, flirting. it's hard to hide the broad smile. and the show begins. you know you're a mere spectator to the play, but its hard not to get involved. time flies by. people are introduced, the hugs and the pleasantries. the eternal breaks. your hysteria slowly begins to grow. the tension is evident. secrets start revealing, prejudices surfacing. there could be no wrong.

and then midway the road takes a twist for the worst and you're caught in the eye of the storm. you realize this is not exactly what you imagined it to be. you begin to note the fake smiles, the diplomacy. and you hit ground reality. you once again have fallen for it. for the make up, for intentional pauses, gimmicks, misinterpretations. nonetheless you decide to wait it out, for it could be a drag phase. a temporary one. you get the feeling of being part of just any other scripted show. you endure the dryness, the cliched excuses, just hoping for a better time. but deep down inside you know the end is near. no games to fire up the intensity of the rendezvous helps sustain the momentum. its like titanic. certain of near doom. you just pick a basket of chocolates for condolences, and move on with your different indifferent lives. sure you've had your moments and some genuine laughs, but you can't help but wonder, was it worth it, was the coffee worth it after all ? in the end, you feel like a complete nincompoop.

this is what i go through every weekend, and am always left brooding, "well that was a complete waste of an hour of my life"

Please note that the views expressed in this article are those of the author, after seeing every episode of
Koffee with Karan, but do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, the dorky public in general who love the show. also note, this article was incited by the Shahid Kapoor Priyanka Chopra episode.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

A Lost Soul

Realizing your inability to realize yourself is by far the most annoying state of mind i have found myself to be in. i almost managed to laugh in self pity !

well the problem is i have a Ted Mosby brain. sans the limelight of a dumb sitcom, a passion for anything, if you don't count ridiculing everything around me. i know, that's pretty messed up. now being a troubled kid of the magnitude described above, i go into a state of eternal confusion and continuous self critique leading to pandemonium inside my pea sized cerebrum. pity me.

that being said, I've never felt the want to be someone else, except for that dude whose been dating Rachel Bilson. my troubles although mammoth sized, are nothing compared to the woes of those normal people. i mean I'm glad i don't sweat over trivial yet seemingly life changing issues such as public love, fan following, money, girlfriends, fame and game. alright fine, sometimes i do, but mostly I'm okay. a weakling like me couldn't have survived them, imagine the responsibilities. updating photos on Facebook, remembering names, dealing with insecurity, smiling all the time, having to stay cool forever. whoa, that's too much to ask, I'm no superman. no no, I'm better off with my problems, as i await a slow painful lonely death and till then try to somehow fit into the sane world. i can almost hear myself scoff at the thought - "haaah, good luck with that !" I have come to believe it ain't gonna be easy trying to remain inconspicuous amongst the plebeian people, with all of my unique trivia and eccentricity.

God help me.