Patience please?

I can't wait to wake up. For real. I can't wait to be your ex. No, not really. I can't wait to die young. Really. I can't wait to grow up and become Mowgli. Or some other jeans-clad superhero. Wait. Can you get over MY procrastination? Try. Learn something from the suicide bombers. They don't procrastinate. The desire to fuck virgins supersedes everything else. The youth in them can't wait to see their old, wrinkled, sorry face. No offence to terrorism though as it's a great source of income for MNCs. I can't wait to witness human conscience turn dead either. I can't wait to reincarnate as a raindrop. I can't wait to break free. Or maybe i can.

Shoutouts

After a while, you turn wise enough to ditch the good ol' Twitter custom of tagging a tweep with the sacred #FF. Instead, you begin to seek financial rewards—which is never going to materialize! For the uninitiateds, it stands for #FollowFriday and it's usually posted on Fridays along with those handles you admire on the timeline. In practical sense, it's a gesture of appreciation because you're too happy that weekend is nearby. Anyway, let me take you back to where it all started. There is an American guy named Micah Baldwin (and goes by the handle @micah). He was the one who came up with this #FF tradition back in 2008. I used to chat with him during my "early days" for two reasons: 1. I was chatative then. 2. I felt he was a genius of sorts for coming up with a global phenomenon. In fact, i once even #FF-ed him like i used to with fellow mortals before deciding that #FF should be employed for a greater cause. Reason bad enough to recommend the following things, among others, of course:  

• the offline version of you
• absolute contentment
• the fault in YOUR stars
• shadows
• bad excuses 
• my childhood friends (who fortunately aren't on Twitter)
• "It's OK!"
• your dreams to the ends of the earth 
• trails of your promises
• peace of mind
• unemployment
• online stalkers
• long weekend
• your love handle 
• others' happiness
• moral compass
• your true calling
• Pied Piper of Hamelin

Where are we heading?

It’s nothing less than a miracle that i haven’t killed brats who habitually throw stones at stray dogs. Contrary to what my wayward tattoos suggest, i’m not prone to violence but it disturbs me no end to see how children behave these days. Especially in the company of their non-intrusive (instructive isn’t the right word here) parents. I grew up in one-room settlements and even then, i don’t remember coming across anyone from contemporaries (or otherwise) who harmed dogs or cats on the street. There was a sense of co-existence in the people who resided in slums. One particular episode that remains etched on my mind is finding a dog struggling to get his head out of a narrow-necked plastic pot. It was obvious that the poor thing must have inserted his face in search of water. The panicky dance it created was unforgettable. Restlessness and fear must be a lethal combination as the mongrel kept banging against the wall in the hope of breaking his mask. Being the girl that i was, i wept like a boy, helpless in setting him free. Face wet with tears, the spectator turned into sprinter and reached home only to make amma suspect whether somebody bullied/beat me (again). On learning what has really happened, she turned off the stove and hurried to the spot. I still remember the calm with which she handled the situation. Gently getting hold of the uneasy dog first, she stroked his neck to relax him and then like a katana-yielding samurai, pulled the pot out of his head in one go. The poor dog was so relieved that he started jumping here and there, barking at the kneeling saviour. Insofar, it was his way of thanking her. 

Conclusion: Some lessons are best left to parents and their action.

A beginners' guide to Navi Mumbai

• No, New Bombay is not THAT far away from where you are.
• Yes, the railway stations are architectural wonders. At least they were when they were built. Maintenance is an altogether different ballgame though.
• In Navi Mumbai, local trains don't take sides. And there’s no such a thing as fast local.
• Seawoods pretends to be Navi Mumbai's SoBo.
• If having really bad roads a part of the plan, then yes, Navi Mumbai deserves the title of world's largest planned city.
• Vashi: what Kashi is to the rest of the country; holy with all the places of worship out there.
• Few decades later, somebody will come up with a film titled New Bombay Velvet (about the city that never was) and Gangs of New Bombay (about the city that once was).
• That rumoured airport has been in the making for quite a long time now. Perhaps the realtors came up with it.
• Did you know Belapur experiences 2 degree Celsius less than what Mumbai does? Nobody cares.
• There’s a park within a distance of 500 meters. In other words, chain-snatchers’ open sky office.
• Everybody goes to the nearest mall to have a good time. Everybody.
• Bollywood used to shoot a lot in Navi Mumbai. This was before people found out about “the city across the creek” and started moving in.
• Traffic-wise, you’re closer to Pune than Andheri.
• Enough of trash talk. Unlike in Mumbai, water doesn’t log on the streets of New Bombay. Reclamation land and too many construction sites, you see?

On the line

In this city, commuting accounts for about half of the work done. As commuters, you've got only two feelings: anger and nothing. They are impatient. [Speaking of patience, those travelling on the Harbour Line redefine patience everyday.] It's not just about the local trains. It's about us. We officially become Mumbaikars when fellow commuters stamp on our toes by mistake and we don't even realize it. Push comes to shove and vice versa. Train mein dhakka nahi toh kya lottery lagega? When daily commuters sit on the edge of the seat, there is nothing exciting about it. But public behave as if they've never seen a seat before, let alone sat on one. No wonder men stay seated because they can't stand a woman standing closeby. Moreover, when somebody is fighting for space, enjoy the show. It never lasts long. Besides, people who quarrel in local trains deserve to commute in them. Oh, did you know elbows are the weapon of mass destruction? Dangerous. However, as long as commuters are ready to assume weird positions to finish reading newspapers, there is hope for print media.

Homelessness

With the clouds opening up over the city, its human denizens are not the only ones affected. Our four-legged Mumbaikars are also hard done by, what with the rains making it more difficult to forage for  food. They also have to deal with “residential” issues. And, like humans, dogs have their own ways to find solutions—like this little fellow who found a dry, warm seat in the back of an empty auto-rickshaw. Maybe he was hoping to be transported to a better place...

Deep shit

What are we without what makes us us? 
Small idiosyncrasies that's unique to you and me...
Smaller stupidities associated with our names.
What are we without any of the endless reasons that makes us better or worse?
And what can we possibly be, if not ourselves?
We are what we are...even though we may not know what. 
Simply here and now;
Unsure about the myth called tomorrow. 
We are breathtakingly beautiful because we aren't going to last forever 
The finale will be missed.
Cities sinking under the weight of its injustice won't happen during our lifetime,
nor will we witness the sky fall apart. 
Furthermore, God shan't perform her cameo while we're alive.
Our loss, indeed.
We're going to leave without knowing when the show actually ended.
Perhaps that's why we are awesome.
Perhaps that's why we feel different every passing moment.
Perhaps that's why nothing's going to stay the way it is...still. 
We breathe like there's no tomorrow but we're going to die. 
Someday, if not today. 
Something we know won't change, no matter what.
Fortunately. 

Hurt shocker

It's only when you're stung by a bee/wasp—not bitten by a bedbug or an ant—that you become capable enough to quantify pain. The manner in which your skin behaves and the almost audible ripples you hear under it makes you doubly aware of your being. In simpler words, when a bee/wasp stings you, it has your utmost attention. That's not the case with any other insect. At least not the ones freely available in urban landscape. You don't dare scratch the surface. You feel alone. That's the worst part. When a mosquito bites you on the back, you can ask someone to scratch it. That probability of an union is discarded by the monsters we're discussing here. They acknowledge the fact that our species can do without anything but company. So they attack and induce loneliness. Ironically enough, bees/wasps themselves believe in society.

I can make out that you don't know what i'm trying to say. Guess what? You've got no idea how much it hurts. I'M IN PAIN BUT I'M GRATEFUL IT WASN'T A SNAKE. Let me cry a bit now.

Digression: I want to be one with the environment. So much so that no creature, living or otherwise, ever harm me or wish me ill. Especially the ones who can die with mere application of my fingerprint.Also, they don't really need that pointed thing on their ass.

Blame it on Sunday!

I'm tired.
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Like really tired.
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Of not doing anything.
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Thought y'all should know.
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Thanks for your online concern.
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Now fuck off and do something better with  your time.

Breaking great

"I have spent my whole life scared, frightened of things that could happen, might happen, might not happen, 50-years I spent like that. Finding myself awake at three in the morning. But you know what? Ever since my diagnosis, I sleep just fine. What I came to realize is that fear, that’s the worst of it. That’s the real enemy. So, get up, get out in the real world and you kick that bastard as hard you can right in the teeth." – Walter White 

In the above lines, White is referring to his terminal disease and the impact it had on his otherwise insignificant life. Goes without saying that there's some misguided optimism in his despair. He's talking about that paralysis called fear. He was one of us. The good ol' Joe who didn't amount to much. Everyday, he struggled with the bills and his regrets. He thought he was a decent man but that was before he realised the power of money. And more importantly, the power of being powerful. It took him years to realize his true potential as a chemist. It's only after the big C inflicted him that he had the time to turn his attention to the other big C in his life, leaving him with no choice but to come up with a meth lab. And that's how cancer and chemistry got married and he ended up becoming the dreadfully manipulative Heisenberg. Good for him. Better for Vince Gilligan. Best for us.

How we roll!

All of a sudden, everybody is a football fan. Of course, the ongoing World Cup is to be ‘blamed’ for this sudden switch of allegiance. And the most interesting aspect—or should we say, encouraging, given our undue reliance on cricket for glory?—has been the activity on local playgrounds and parks. Kids and adults both are seen trying their feet at dribbling. It's like watching me dance. Be it rain or not, evenings are particularly spent on kicking like there’s no tomorrow. These newfound disciples have their favourite international footballers too. Interestingly, a few weeks back, they didn’t even know they existed, let alone have a clue for which club they played. But then, who’s complaining? We're the 154th best footballing country in the world. Cracking the top-150 league won't hurt.

People and places

Crowd is synonymous with this city and there's no way one escape it. Especially when you're at or around a railway station. For a newcomer, this is quiet difficult to grasp given the pace at which people and things move. One such poor fellow—presumably hailing from UP-Bihar belt—had a shock of his life when he was literally manhandled his way out of the train compartment. On touching the platform—somehow in one piece—he had two unforgettable quotes at his disposal. One gentleman reminded him, "Yeh Bambai hai", only to be interrupted by another who said "Yeh Kurla hai meri jaan." Unforgettable lessons, per se. 

Anonymous summation of difference

There are people who want to change the world. And then there are those who do—in their own sweet little ways. They touch lives because they fully understand that that's what we were supposed to do for a living. This precious lot doesn't worry about things that don't matter. They don't bother themselves with "Why am i here?" or "Who's responsible for my boring existence?" or "What dish am i going to post on Instagram?" et al. Neither do they care about their profile pic on social media nor the typos in their online thoughts. They tend to be pragmatic. Very. No, they aren't averse to technology or such. Just that they've gradually learnt that the actual work gets done under the sun. One needs to log out to log in some real change. One such friend of mine is busy helping a few underprivileged kids with education and complimentary skills. She's the last person to gain publicity so let's call her J. She's been doing her bit for children for quite a while now. You won't read about her in paper or on Internet. Going by her account, her daily endeavours don't seem like cakewalk either. She has her ups and downs but she sleeps sound. Unlike us. Moreover, it's pretty obvious that she knows that she's making a difference. After all, she takes out the necessary time. If time is the greatest gift one human can present other, then there is certainly a future for all the parties involved.