A pussy worth never forgetting

The year was 2000 and the eldest cat in our house had died. The bad news unfolded in front of our eyes so it wasn't really a surprise. A street dog had bitten her neck so badly she somehow dragged herself home and crawled under the cupboard. She was always graceful in life and turned out to be no different in death either. What was there not to like about her? Despite being a thorough beauty, she was no showoff. It was like she understood humans. A member of the family, she never once stole milk from the kitchen. If Instagram was a thing back in the last millennium, my amma gutting fish on one side and she crouching patiently on another would have made a fab picture. Although my ma fed her, she liked my dad the most. She would wait for him to wake up in the morning so that she could occupy his warm pillow. She shared a lovely relationship with me though. I remember this one instance when she licked my back after amma had wealed the hell out of it for disobedience. The wise furry lady sought attention but would rarely exhibit it. Except while dad and i were playing chess. Allergic to simulated intelligence, she just didn't like two humans sitting across a board pretending to be motionless cats! To stop us, she would keep rubbing her body against us. And when that didn't work, she'd walk on the chessboard but without moving a single piece. She was something. Like the moon, she didn't have a name but my brother liked to call her Rani for her royal demeanor even though she never responded to it. Coming back to the day she passed away, i remember going to tuition class that evening. Goes without saying, the 14-year-old version of me was sadder than a cat's piss. Pages look bluer when your eyes are wet. I was trying to hide my tears sitting on the floor with my friend Tanno next to me. He sensed it and whispered "Kya hua?" which i pretended to overhear. When the question was repeated, i remember crying "Mera billi marr gaya yaar" with a voice that desperately wanted someone to rub my back—if not lick it. 

A lunatic quest

"Chand, ae raat ke sehra mein bhatakte hue chand,

Jaa kahin aur chala ja ke ye basti tere kaabil he nahi..."

                                       - Superman of Malegaon (2008)

There are several reasons to admire the moon. One of them being its impartiality. It doesn't matter to the moon whether you're rich or poor, tall or Tyrion, black or white, right or yourself. Our only satellite shall showcase its glory to everyone. Of course, it will never reveal its other side. That's private property, sorry. But still, it has done more than enough to inspire poetry, astrology and astronomy—amongst other things. And for all its services, we don't even have a name for it. We just call it moon even though we have distinct names for all the moons of all the planets that we know. We even have names for the moons revolving around Pluto, which itself is a former planet now! Isn't that sad? Wonder how Luna/Serena/Soma (which all mean moon in their respective languages) feel about that. The worst part being people are named Moon! Speaking of which, 12 astronauts have been to moon so far. The last person to be up there was Eugene Cernan and this was way back in 1972. Which means nobody has been to moon in over four decades. Doesn't that add to moon's loneliness? Lastly, what's the point of becoming astronauts nowadays when Mars in inhabited by robots and we've given up on our lunar missions?

How to be what

Be happy.
Try.
Contrary to popular beliefs, it's not THAT hard.
Trust me on this.
For i've been sad for a major part of my life
—for no peculiar reason though.
Be kind.
Don't hurt others with words.
Use something sharper like a knife or a sword.
Besides, there are better things to do with tongue.
People matter but only few.
Locate them sooner than later.
Be trustworthy.
Nicer things happen to those who value themselves.
Whatever you're saying is going to turn into clouds.
If you don't believe me, live long enough.
If you can't, your grandkids will witness the rain.
You are here for a reason.
Be curious.
There's a world beyond you.
Far beyond your beliefs.
Something that makes this planet go round.
I'm trying to figure it out while my fingers tremble.
I'll never break the code but it's worth breaking.
Be stable.
Is there a point in being a feather when you're not?
Is there a point in floating when you shouldn't?
There's much more to life than breathing.
There are questions we are born with,
and then there are answers we die for.
Be hopeful.
How long can we find comfort in pessimism?
How long before we devours us for good?
The sun is going to rise whether we like it or not.
The moon is going to shine even if we fall asleep.
Nobody owes us nothing except hope.
Be yourself.
Your face may resemble others' but that's it.
You were carved out of time.
Nothing comes close to your uniqueness.
You are beautiful because the universe made you.
And you're a survivor—just act like one.

Kicks and kicking

True Detective Season 2 is back.

In related spoiler alert, there is a scene in the first episode where a father—fed up of seeing his chubby son being bullied in school—takes matters into his own hands—knuckles, to be precise—and beats the crap out of the bully's father. Of course, he has nothing against the dad but he's trying to make a point to the boy who thinks it's cool to pick up on his son who can't/won't fight back. 

Guess what? It isn't. 

Bullying is a serious issue and one should be online to understand how evil people can get. You'll come across the snarkiest of comments from people who are wuss in the real world. People who can't string together three thoughts otherwise. People who don't amount to anything in particular. Just blank words. It's almost funny—but not. It goes without saying that Internet is for everyone and everybody's within their perimeters to write/post whatever they want. That was the whole idea. The problem, sadly, is those who don't respect others' space of expression are growing. Also, is it REALLY alright to harass someone for kicks? I think it's perfectly alright as long as your loved ones get a chance to beat the crap out of someone dear to these bullies. You know, just to make a point. 

To be or do

If you ask someone what they wanted to be when they grow up, they'd say something like astronaut, doctor, singer or dancer. It's quite natural why we harbour certain aspirations in our life. They stem from our childhood but not necessarily because we were going to grow up but because we hope we'll grow up someday not having to depend on grownups to decide for us. Of course, we discount that factor when somebody asks us the "Who did you want to be as a kid?" question. This is what i feel should be the correct answer: As a kid, there was very little of a reference to be something. We were pretty content being kids but there were restrictions too. So, what we wanted to do was more important than wanting to be. In other words, we might have wanted to have as many chocolates as we wanted or lick as much icecream as our heart desired but we never did because parents wouldn't let us. So maybe, as kids, our aim was to grow up so that nobody else gets to ordain for us. We'd be our masters. However, as we stepped into the education system where competition is the byword, we forgot that primal drive to have the basics (chocolate, candies, icecream) and we started drawing bigger, greater pictures (of flying in space and dancing on stage). And here we are, today, wondering who's going to stop us from beginning all over again.

Growing old like never before

A couple of months ago, i didn't give a damn (or dime) about who said what about me. Online or offline. I was merrily being the patron saint of ignorance as i took immense pride in overlooking a lot of things. Mentions on Twitter used to be least of my concerns. I never stooped to explain anything i wrote or post or meant or didn't. I just went around my business doing what i felt like. But i think i'm changing now. Side effects of aging, if you may. I've started to give a shit about what others think not only about me but also about what i think. And this change is more evident on the web. One of the first symptoms was opening up my DM to public. On top of that, i've been replying consistently to whoever sends me a private message. I've always accepted friend requests on FB (provided the concerned profile had a DP of a human face) so that was there. Of late, i've also started replying (not consistently though) on Instagram and Snapchat as well. I don't see myself replying on Twitter but there's a catch there too. All of a sudden, online views have begun to affect me. Which is strange because i don't remember ever writing a mail to a troll before explaining to him how his blind hatred has nothing to do with me. Similarly, i don't remember asking anyone to "Let's move to WhatsApp" the way i did very recently. It used to be the other way: People asking me for my number and whatnot. Maybe this has something to do with the fact that i'm approaching 30 which means, if i were to live for 50 years, more than half my life is already spent. Why the so-called detachment then? I guess i'm putting the aging in engaging like never before. 

PS: No, i'm not replying to comments on my blog posts anytime soon because nobody reads my blog in the first place. 

Starry airs

Actors who made it are called stars, especially by the media. For people, labels don't really matter. A SRK fan would be least bothered by Salman Khan's stardom. If you think about it, the term 'star' doesn't mean they are brilliant at what they do. Just that they managed to grab our imagination more than our attention. It's a weird paradox. However, have you wondered why they are called stars? Shouldn't the term be exclusive to someone who is far ahead of—if not afar from—the rest of us? Aren't stars, in celestial context, quite unreachable? At least the sports stars do something exceptionally real for living. The actors merely pretend in front of the camera. Doesn't that bother you? I don't know why it bothers me but if nothing else, i feel the term 'star' should be extended to people who climb mountains or travel in space. They shine brighter than most of our stories ever will. Imagine being on the tip of Mt. Everest or in ISS exposing your body to radiation while moving at the speed of 7.6 km/sec.  The only consolation i derive is from the latest news about Pornhub making a film in the space starring two pornstars. The height of stardom, yes.

Kick or adopt

I found this cute interaction between a lil' kid and a street dog. The boy was anxious to take a look at the sleeping beauty but to his shock, it (given the gender wasn't specified) woke up and began to move away. This was last night. I have two theories about what's going to happen to that boy in the coming years.

Theory no.1: He's going to grow up with an utter fear for the unclean creatures which will eventually crystallize into hatred for the street dogs. What this entails is a life full of resentment towards beings who don't have a place to call home. Instead of adopting them or at least being kind to, the boy will either distance himself or throw stones at them to keep them from sniffing his hands. 

Theory no.2: Someday soon, someone will be profound enough to introduce him to the innocence of a street dog. That way, instead of harbouring fear, the boy will channelize his curiosity into something positive—more curiosity. It'd be an eye-opener. Which will help him become a far better person than theory no.1 can ever allow. 

Redefining superheroes

I hear weird noises emanating from fake conversations. If that's not superpower, i don't know what is. There are all kinds of people with varied skill sets not realizing how special each one of us is. Waking up every morning could be something that sets us apart from the ones who choked on their vomit. Please tell me that i'm mistaken. Please tell me that being alive in moments of despair doesn't make us superheroes. I always felt superheroes are fake. I knew even at the age of six that Superman and his cape wasn't enough to save the world. Superpowers matter as long as you don't have to explain it to anyone. A mother with two hands taking good care of a family of seven doesn't require validation. She's a superhero by default. But every passing episode, Superman had to remind us that he's not one of us. Aren't humans basically mutants with no superpower whatsoever? Growing up, i convinced myself that not having one is a superpower too. Not doing anything at all is really difficult.

Hence, i'm listing out my superpowers that may or may not matter...

My superpower is spent in keeping my jaws shut.

My superpower is me sitting quietly on a chair for hours.

My superpower is my ability to laugh as if i understand everything.

My superpower is wanting to learn all the useless trivia.

My superpower is lost in waiting endlessly.

My superpower is forcing people to give up on me.

My superpower is contributing to your boredom.

My superpower is not knowing what to say.

My superpower is making her smile against her wish.

My superpower is in killing time and keeping procrastination alive.

My superpower is making you pay with your attention.

My superpower is logging out without wasting too much time on logging out.

PS: Despite all these, i can't stop Monday from happening. Or take a dump while flying the way pigeons do.  

Running out of health

Gym isn't for me. I tried but i couldn't put up with its tough regimen. Weights and strings aren't something my body agree with. But i do believe that leading a healthy lifestyle is a better option than getting fat thinking that it's OK. It's not. Whoever takes health for granted pays an exorbitant price. And one doesn't have to read a WHO report on what's really going on with our species. If you haven't read one, this is what's happening: The haves are wasting food and their ability to maintain health while the have-nots don't have the means to do either. Regardless, wouldn't it be nice to have a funeral where they look at you and say "Look at his dead face. He looks so fucking fit"? Anyway, i don't workout. I receive my share of exercise from pushing others into gym. Akshar happens to be one of my victims. I won't say he began gym-ing because of me but it did happen after i happened to him. And like all good things, this episode too came to an end. Early this week, he was banished from his building gym because the lease doesn't contain his name. Not to give up so easily, he protested by jogging around the gym—from outside, of course. Have you heard of a more subtle and healthier way of protesting? 

Were you porn curious too?

Yesterday, an intense conversation took place in the car back home. The question was "What are we going to do if we don't have the job that we have right now?" for the night. There were different but candid replies from all the parties involved. One emphasized on sticking to his creative side while another elaborated on the fulfillment with her current position. When it was my turn, i said something to the effect of going back to teaching. I wasn't lying. I indeed enjoyed teaching kids, filling their minds with whatever i assumed to be right. Of course, you can't change the world with that but you try. By the time we reached home, the topic was settled. 

But come to think of it, i wasn't entirely honest. 

I have Plan B too. If i'm out of job, i'll go visit Cuba and get penile enlargement thing done on me. free of cost (because Fidel Castro cares about dick). Once i get my right size, i'll take the reverse route of Bay of Pigs Invasion and trespass into the USA. From there, i'll go to LA like all girls with big dreams go. Since it'd be a new place for me, i'll adopt a new identity too. Sunny Leone. Because just like Shakti, Sunny happens to be a unisex name. Sunny Deol, anyone? The real reason behind this supersmart move is to eat on the mileage Leone gets on the Internet. Whenever guys with hardon google Sunny Leone, they'll end up finding me. I won't mind the curses as long as i'm a pornstar. It'd be an awesome plan. Now that the job question is settled, all i need now is a life. 

Drenched, not shaken

During my maiden summer vacation at my native-place (Manipal/Hirebettu), i was six as well as stupid. We had cats at our place back in Bombay so this marked my encounter with dogs. There were two contrasting canines at my grandma's place. One was very old and didn't care much except for food while the other was young and followed me wherever i went. Anyway, that was the closest i got to a dog as i carried an image in my head. It was of a dark brown shepherd shaking itself dry in slo-mo. So, one fine afternoon, i went to the nearby rivulet to play. As expected, the young dog of ours followed me. As soon as i reached the sandy spot, i caught hold of him and tried to immerse his body into water. The idea was to get him drenched so that i could see him dry himself like his larger counterpart did on Doordarshan. Turns out my friend had different plans. Although i got it all wet, he won't trust himself with me anymore. Because of which, he ran like possessed towards home and didn't wait to look back, forget shake himself dry. 

I wish i could do this to my Twitter followers. 

When Iris talked to Travis

There's an understated scene in Taxi Driver (1976) that shows the vulnerability of an anti-hero. Robert De Niro's iconic Travis Bickle meets Jodie Foster's nubile Iris in a shady hotel room. His intention is to save her from the pimp (Harvey Keitel) who is obviously misusing her innocence. The initial dialogues exchanged between Travis and Iris is not extraordinary. She is behaving with him the way she would with any other customer while he rejects all her advances. Logic doesn't dawn upon her until the moment he shoves her onto the couch. In a different universe, that's something a Prem Chopra or a Ranjeet would do before raping the hero's sister/wife/dog. But in this case, Travis is trying to do something right. After she gathers herself from the push, he tells her he's not like others and he REALLY wants to help her escape even though it isn't established whether she wants the same or not. However, he makes her promise him to have breakfast at 1am—prostitution doesn't agree with sunrise for a reason—the next day. Before he leaves the room, he walks back to her and introduces himself before cupping her left cheek complimenting "Sweet Iris" to her amused look. That also happens to be the sweetest moment in the movie, seconded by the final scene when he refuses to accept fare from Betsy before driving away into the night.

N.B. If you haven't watched this movie, you deserve whatever spoilers i (unintentionally) let out above.

Missing poems and dismissed planet

In August 2006, the International Astronomical Union (IAU) downgraded the status of Pluto to that of "dwarf planet". This meant that only the rocky worlds of the inner Solar System and the gas giants of the outer system will be designated as planets. In simpler words, the smallest planet in our solar system wasn't a planet anymore. Personally, i liked Pluto for two reasons: it reminded me of my favourite Disney character (can you find anything cuter than Pluto?) and i always feel for the underdogs (can you find anything cuter than Pluto?). To commemorate this gross injustice, i got the number 134340 tattoed on my forearm. Contrary to the belief that it's the roll no. of the prisoner i lost my anal virginity to, Pluto was designated this particular number after the demotion by the scientists. It wasn't to be called Pluto anymore. The poor thing! Imagine the kind of rejection it must have felt.

****

I recently met Kartik, an old friend from Pune after a gap of five years. On noticing my tattoo, he told me that even Gulzarsaab wasn't very happy with the maltreatment meted out to this tiny celestial body either. True to his style, he decided to write a series of poems solely dedicated to Pluto. Insofar, what wrong has the tiny, non-whiny planet done to the scientists? Anyway, the book was published in March. Had i been part of the film circuit the way i was earlier, i'd have known about it but like a true fan, i didn't have a clue about this eponymous anthology. However, Kartik not insisted but also sent me a copy to my office. Let's just say that my day has been made. Even the fact that scientists don't know how Pluto really looks like (although that didn't stop them from kicking the boy out of the group) can't rattle me today. 

When the clock struck 30

My amma and papa completed 30 years of marriage on Sunday. They aren't the celebratory types so nothing special—not even a proper family lunch or dinner—happened back home. Life is too long to celebrate days perhaps. Funnily enough, ma told me that they've been together for so long that dad doesn't remember marrying her. Of course, it was a joke but it got me thinking (as if i'm going to do anything about it). Aren't three decades too long a time for two individuals to cohabit? My dad is 68 and my ma, 62. They've known each other since childhood but it was only when their wedding was being fixed that they could see each other in a different light. Going by the travails—ups and downs in equal measure—that they faced after tying the knot, i'm wondering whether papa does remember that day or not. 

Conclude at your own risk

Week in and week out, studies take place so that we get a better view into stuff we don't care about, let alone think of. For all the trouble scholars, scientists and professors undergo, these studies are published in journals and posted online for commoners like us to understand our species better. It goes without highlighting that there is no such a thing as conclusion when it comes to researches like these. One study might contradict another while each holding onto their individual merit. We are different and unique so why shouldn't scientific-behavioral studies be any different? Which is why i decided to share two such intriguing studies that i came across recently.

a. A study found that when people were asked by a stranger if they would sleep with them, 75% men said yes and every single woman said NO. The most obvious conclusion one can draw from this study is that women take physical intimacy way too seriously than men. In other words, men are casual when it comes to matters located between the sheets. In the study's defense, there was a good mix of men who were single, married, young and not-so-young. The same was true for the women who participated. During the study, the predominating reason cited for affirmative response by men was “So what? It's just sex” while the negative response by women had a “But why the rush?” ring to it. Doesn't this show how love/affection STILL plays a key role for women while men are busy nurturing a boner? Does this study mean that evolution is a farce as men are YET to evolve? Thankfully, the 25% won't agree.

b. A research paper postulates that the higher the blood alcohol content of a person, the higher they rate themselves on personal attractiveness. There are several reasons for a person to consume alcohol. It could be an excuse to be happy (waking up sad the next morning is an altogether different topic) for a change. It could be a lubricant for a lot of chokers who can't really breathe and initiate a chat (which is silly because humans can't breathe while talking anyway) without a drink in hand. It could be an escape to forget something from your past (but only end up forgetting what happened last night) immediately. I'm sure there are other excuses in place but have you heard anyone say that alcohol makes them feel attractive? I haven't. Although i must say that i've seen people talk (rubbish) or sing (pathetic) confidently once they are drunk. But not once have i heard anybody admit that alcohol makes them feel attractive. Have you? Does it?