Internet,
I want a real challenge. Something concrete that makes me work my butt off like i had 6 years back. I need some thing that makes me as blind to everything else.
I wish I could turn the clock back to 2003, when my life had a purpose and I believed in it. Naively. But i did. I wish i could work as hard for something as i did then. Even if the results would not vary.
I would sleep better and breathe easier if only i would find that lost purpose again .
I solemnly swear…..that this weekend…* and * from this weekend onwards….I shall not forsake posting silly, pointless, inconsequential riff raff on this blog.
Amen!
PS: This is for all those lovely people who delude me into believing that they are the fans of you rs truly!(You guys are real …REAL …sweethearts! AND you guys know who you are.)
A minion when it comes to a-rant-of-sorts. Please bear with me.
This is for those who think they are bastards of the Bard of Avon. Awww!! the language offending you, is it? Wait, there’s more to come.
Now the whole purpose of this post is to help you understand why your opinion on THIS blog is of no consequence to me. And why I shall write whatever i please.
Firstly, the ownership rights. I OWN this blog. It is mine. So, what you think accounts for—dust. To hell with your opinion. I could not care less.
Now, I do not expect you to agree with/be happy about/accept what i write here. Coz if you did agree it would be so boring. As an erstwhile friend used to believe and i quote him, “Opinions are like assholes. Everyone has them.” So it is fine with me if you don’t like what you see in here, but if you get down to name calling and being all sarcastic about it, guess what! I won’t tolerate it. You have a problem? Go vent out your frustrations on YOUR blog.
A few people have issues with my writing. Daaahh-lings, I think by now you should have concluded something. Clearly, since you are having difficulty doing so, allow me to help you. I shall do this slowly. Try to keep up with me. This….is…..a…personal blog…personal…okie? If you don’t like what I write, don’t stop…..move on….There are a million blogs that will suit your discerning and eclectic tastes. Follow them. This blog reflects my style. You don’t really expect me to alter my style to cater to your whims, do you? I would *perhaps * do it for …umm…..actually come to think of it..nobody.
The reasons why you visit this space on the web is your choice. If you do it coz you like what i write (mwwaaahs for you, by the way) or because you are foolish enough to think that you will be able to dig out what’s happening in my life or basically because you are feeling suicidal and find this blog will help you make a decision, I don’t care. As long as you are here, you play by my rules.
And lastly, about my blog being non-humourous and non-witty. Why is that such an issue? If i choose to take the grim, bleak, depressing view of life, let me. You find it boring? Write something and allow *me * to judge how great it is. And in all fairness, let me tell you i shall be scarily ruthless about it.
So i cannot promise it ends here. Depends on you people. You behave nasty? You shall force me to show you what a smart-ass I can be.
Cheers!
I miss north India. And that makes me politically incorrect? Makes me the ultimate desh-drohi/gaddar? Does it look like I care? Good! Now we seem to be on the same wavelength.
So i was saying that i miss north India. Yeah, it is my choice to stay here in Bangalore but c’mon people, I am allowed to miss the region I grew up in.
The smell of winters….I never thought i would say this but i miss the biting cold. You are a witness to the transition between seasons. You don’t have to sit and wonder if it is summers or winters by counting the month that it is.
The food….ohhhh!! the food. I like the idlis, vadas, dosas. But after that what? I have tried the cuisine from all the southern states. Except Telugu food, i have honestly felt disappointed. That could have been a reason why i fell in love with a Telugu, but i think i am digressing here absolutely.
So coming back to food, yeah ….. It is either too bland or sugary or un-impressionable (might not be a word). And to top it all, the people here have got the north Indian food all wrong. The blasphemy of it! The chaats have GRATED CARROTS!!! I mean who puts grated carrots and weird namkeens on dahi puri. The bhel is purely sweet (!!???) and let me not even get started on the samosas. They have fillings of beans and beetroot. To like that is asking too much out of a north-Indian, honestly. The north Indians have never had the guts to add anything else apart from yummy potato filling in the samosa!
I mean have you ever seen ANY restaurant in north India rubbishing your food? Don’t you always find an aloo filling in masala dosa? Or doesn’t the coconut chutney and sambar ALWAYS accompany the idlis……stews with appams….
We do not change your food. We may not get the sambar right every time, but we will not add wrong vegetable to it….yes sir! In go the drumsticks, the brinjals, the tamarind, the toor dal, the pumpkin for the sambar. See we know.
And the people. Now I have met a few nice south Indians. I will even say perhaps the ones i didn’t meet are also very nice. But the operative word is FEW. Most of them have this crazy notion that all the north Indians are out to grab all the jobs, all the land and all of South India. We are here to corrupt the south. We bring with us our rotten mentality, our oily food and what to say of our bang-on-target slangs that involve the mothers and the sisters (yeah! It is ridiculous, you and me know. Tell it to them).
So often I have been ‘told’ impolitely by fellow Bangloreans that I should go back to my ‘gaon‘. Now i have 2 things to say to this—-
This is my country. You don’t think so that’s your problem. I think so. And so i will go wherever i please.
My gaon is either the whole of India or Bangalore. I have never stayed in any place for more than 2 years. Go blame my dad for that. He should not have been sitting on the borders of this country in heat and cold trying to save your black asses. The longest that i have stayed is in Bangalore. 4 years. So, on a technicality, it is Bangalore that becomes my gaon.
We may be rude..brash…whatever. But let me tell you, we north Indians are a million times morelarge-hearted people. There is a reason why we have big builds. It is to accommodate that LARGE HEART of ours.
The dog made himself get stranded in the bathroom! (the sentence is a Copy ed’s nightmare, I am hoping)
That * is * a first you know. No, not the copy ed’s nightmare part, you fools…the stranding in the bathroom part.
Usually, the dog steers clear from the bathroom. Thanks to his unwilling bath sessions there. Maybe because it is symbolic of his failings. I mean once he is in there, oh the struggle he puts up! AND FAILS. (Doggie i wish you were reading this).
So any which way, here we are sleeping at 0400 hrs (so reminds me of you KP 
) ….dreaming of wonderful things in and about life. And suddenly, we hear yelps and angry barks. We tell the dog to shut up and have mercy (as an afterthought. You never know what may appeal to him) on our poor soul.
The sod doesn’t listen. That surprises us? Not at all. After 20 months with him, we know when he will listen to us.
So after we have successfully bid goodbye to our sleep and are as wide awake as owls, we set out to search for the mischief-ball. And surprise, surprise! We find him—-NOWHERE!
This has us worried, more on the account of what damage he would have done where ever he is. You don’t think we take our dog’s well-being seriously? You are right…we don’t. But that is another story.
So we stand in one place and try to figure out at the crack of the dawn where the dog might be. We concentrate and follow the sounds of door being scratched. We open the door and there the mischief monger runs out like an arrow without a target. Him in the bathroom, pisses us off. He knows that.
We like to believe that the dog had let himself in the bathroom, on account of it being safe and all in the middle of the night but he really had no idea what he was getting himself into. Silencing curiosity is never a dog’s forte. He should have known.
So there he must have been sniffing around, trying to decipher the world within the 4 walls that is so scary on Sunday mornings is not-so-threatening on Monday nights. And he might have been having a good time, all in all. And then, he would have wondered what lies behind the grey door, must have gone to check and BANG!
The door closed! Increased heartbeats…lolling tongue….oh he deserved every bit of it! Waking me up * so* damn early….
Wish he had tried to figure out how the flush works….and flushed himself away.
Sigh…we wish and dream, don’t we!
I deserve to make a mess of my life. Trust me, no one can do it better than me. Heavens, you seem to be so hell bent on helping me with this! I mean show some resistance.
There are big-time power struggles happening in my office. It is so funny. Not in a hilarious way. But in a way that makes you want to smirk. Incompetent people and inconsistencies are bound to be figured sooner or later. It is just a matter of holding out till then. That is what i would tell you my friend!
There is no point in having found your life partner if he doesn’t stay with/ around/ near you.
Are these the Declarations of (for?) Independence? They seem to be quite shallow to be so. DI(Declaration of Independence for the dorks) postulates should be lofty ideals talking about how i will revamp my life with a Master’s degree; get a kick-ass job; live in a penthouse by the end of this year; move to the mountains after a couple of years of minting money and own a lake house. Now are they?
I just want to cut the trappings of love that hold me down. I wish i could go back-packing around the country without either of my parents worrying themselves; or my brother wondering perhaps once in a month if i am already dead; or the LOML following me around just incase.
See these are the strappings. The things that tie you down. I mean i love these people. They are the ones that i pray for. But i wish i could be free enough to not give a damn and go about my life, doing silly things every now and then, just because I FELT LIKE IT.
Friday evenings are the most deceptive time of the week.
Monday mornings, invariably are about groggy eyes, a down-in-the-dumps heart (totally on account of the week beginning & you having to do menial things like earning your living) and heavy feet (that surprisingly * do * carry you to school/college/work).
Tuesdays are days you think there is no hope for mankind. Weekend is too far! The traffic is too much! The roads are too bad! The weather sucks! Oh it does look like a definite end of the world!
Wednesdays are a bit easier. You might just make it to the weekend. Perhaps you would even begin to enjoy the rest of the week (ha! Who are we kidding here?).
Thursdays– hmm..almost the end of another inhumanly, impossible week to get by. Maybe you could plan something nice for the weekend. You think of running some plan (that you think is absolutely rad but then again you can never be sure) through your friends. Just a second opinion.
Fridays… as i said are the most deceptive days of the week. The weather seems like such a treat. The drivers (whom you thought homicidal on Monday) appear like the most courteous people on earth, sometimes the entire universe. And you realise that the world is the way it should be. And so you really should have some great plans for the weekend. How about a picnic? Or a day at the museum? Or perhaps a trip out of the city? Why not a shopping spree? Or perhaps taste the food in a never-ventured-before-to area? Everything sounds good.
Come Saturday and you wake up late (excuse being that you wake up early the entire week). And you decide perhaps all the lovely plans could be postponed to Sunday. Isn’t that the whole point of a 2-days off? (you are desperately trying to convince yourself now). But you will regret not going out by Monday. But you want to be lazy. But you want to go. But you don’t want to step outside your house. But then how will you go? Till you head gets too fed up of your thoughts and screams aloud (only in your head). And you get disgusted with the constant dialogue between the 2 hemispheres. And you decide…wait for this..you decide to spend your entire day in your sweats. No, you will not do the dishes. Or wash the house. Or buy the groceries. Or do your laundry. (You are apparently trying to punish your head for talking too much). You will, instead, lie in your bed or lounge in the hall or sit non the terrace and do nothing more than read a book. Little explosion of happy crackers in your head and the plan seems great. Only until Sunday. Coz then you realise that the work you had decided to not do as a means to punish your head (for talking to much) is pending. And it is only you who has to do it. So you ruin your last day of freedom slaving around a house which won’t even look as shiny and sparkly the next morning (it being Monday and all).
Life begins to end all over again.
You know what is * puurfect * ?? a breezy rain…the kind you know happened because you got a whiff of wet earth. But the kind that definitely does not leave muck in its wake….and Masakali playing somewhere close by.
I wonder if it will be all too bad if i just begin to drop off a bit of me every now and then. Sort of blur definition of * me *. We put too much price on the frames, the identities. Would it be too bad if I let go? Completely?
I feel pity for the people that surround me. So stuck in the rot. About boyfriends that have to be spied on; about affairs that have to be hidden; about just being uncomfortable in your own skin. I feel sorry for you all. I feel sorri-er for myself. Because I am stuck with you & your filth. And right now i don’ t really have a choice. No matter how much you try to make me like you, I will always be different. Because of a million things. Mostly because I don’t chase the same things that you do. We are on different trips. Just that.
I want to have the freedom- financial, mental, emotional, physical- to just pack my bags one day & pitch a tent in the middle of khavda. Take my dog, of course. And live a tiny bit of my life, just watching the sun rise & set,; and wait for the hyenas and the jackals to hunt for food; and to see the eagles swoop down on an unsuspecting rat.
One of these days when you would be going about your business & toiling hard, ‘dearest’ (?) duniya, i will quietly take your leave and never see the shitty sight of you again.
Cheers!
Me: So it’s July!
A friend (AF): Yeah, its July. So?
Me: No. Nothing wrong with it being July. Just that the year is passing too damn fast.
AF (Looking across the terrace): Yeah that’s there*.
Me(twirling my hair in my fingers**): see the world is coming to an end!
AF: Yeah? You think so?
Me (lying down on the terrace and looking at the clouds pass by): I think the earth is rotating too fast. Without us coming to know, of course. I mean it is rotating fast but in a way that we don’t realise that 24 hours have passed.
AF: laughs loudly till tears rolled down.
* AF can be very talkative.
**thinking induces girly behaviour in me, sometimes.
Ever felt an angst so strong right at the base of your stomach that it could blow you to pieces? And tiny bits of your bones, ligaments and heart would be splattered all over the wall and the ceiling. Some weird mercurial emotion that has you wanting to scream your guts out at the world. It becomes unimportant if you are listened to. You just want to shake the bleeding humanity till it is revives from its stupor and you want to ask it–’ Do you know even, what you are doing?’
I am sick of the way i am living this life. This is NOT my arrangement. I am living according to a plan conceived by someone else. Just be till I reach my grave. And then * again * lie quietly. Don’t laugh too loud; don’t scream if you are afraid; smile; don’t frown if you are unhappy; don’t bloody clench your fist if you are angry. GODDAMMIT!!! What should I do? Fucking follow your steps, world? Live like you have? You call it bloody living?
I fear that all this angst..this heartache….will just reside at the bottom of my being making me feel weak and helpless. Exasperation, outrage, wrath lying in the wrinkles of my withered epidermis. We have to stop being so manipulative; so politically correct ALL THE TIME. Not giving in to one base instinct after another——that is where we are fucking up.
Writeous Sham @ your disposal
