A questionnaire of ignorance

Ever felt like conquering Monday on a Sunday night? Remember that era when common sense prevailed? Have you ever been killed by excessive happiness? Been totally at peace with yourself? You know what's interesting? Remember that era when we weren't wary of falling asleep? Ever been at the center of a groundbreaking event? Can you recall those days when Saturday evening stood for freedom? Ever considered the possibility that someone else could be right too other than you? Remember the New Year Resolutions we made back in January? Are you aware of anybody who has named their kid Barfi yet? Any idea what happens to people like us? Remember the good old days when values really meant something? Have you ever felt like doing what you were born for? Can you recollect that era when we had better things to do? Heard of that monk who pawned his Lamborghini? Ever feel like you're experiencing a life-altering moment? Remember those days we used to have a low-maintenance life? Heard of those tweeps who knew exactly what they were doing online? Know how difficult it is to build a reputation? Reminisce the last time somebody called you a fucking genius? Remember anyone informing you “Jaise bhi ho, acche ho” lately? Remember the last time you offended yourself instead of others? Ever considered the possibility that you could be right too? Remember those weekdays we had real fun? Forget Bolt and Blake, care to learn who's the world's fastest Indian? Who are you?

Me neither. 

From home to house

Every time my mother leaves for her native place, a soft purry kitten dies. Hold that thought, PETA. Just got the metaphor wrong! What i meant to say was: whenever my mother leaves for Manipal, we find ourselves in a fix. It's only when she is not at home that we realise how important she is to everyone's survival—including the houseplants'. This time around, she will be gone for about two weeks or so. And as usual, my dad will pretend to take over only to give up within 48 hours and announce "To Each His Own, Boys" silently. Anyway, he's 66 so can't blame him for...being so smart. My brother is going to be smug thanks to his self-reliant techniques. He doesn't bother anyone, unlike us two. Regardless, several factors are going to bother us. The cobwebs, for instance. You see, if you don't clean them regularly, they become a part of your pessimistic life. Anyway, change is a way of existence too, right? You wish. In our house (no, no, not sweet home), nobody is going to enter kitchen anymore—except for water perhaps when one is dying of thirst—as each of the three fusketeers (read: fuss-creators) will depend entirely on outside food. The sparrows and pigeons are going to miss their morning nosh. The tulsi is going to curse us for not taking proper care of her. Milk shall become an alien food because it requires boiling and more importantly, the need to make sure it doesn't spill. The bathroom is going to reek of bachelorhood. Water is going to overflow and clothes are going to remind us that although May has ended, Indian summer hasn't. The fridge will continue to be our BFF but its biochemical status will change significantly. For what this 'change' is worth, i can assure that none of us are going to learn our lessons or treat my father's old wife properly when she returns. Fair enough.

PS: Three soft purry kittens dying in a year is not a big deal, PETA.

Rest in world peace

In their quest to wear the tiara, the beauty queens often lie. And the most obvious act of falsehood takes place when they promise to work towards world peace PROVIDED they win the title. It's like an old adage which refuses to go out of fashion. As for the audience, nobody sits down to wonder why world peace and not anything else. Well, the reason is pretty simple. World peace, at its purest form, is an idea. And a noble one at that. Also, because we'll never attain it no matter how hard we try. That never happened before nor shall it happen as the world is already at peace. Just that our collective perception of world peace is slightly different from the way it was meant to be. We love to fiddle with our thoughts and let our imagination lose control. However, just imagine our planet with everything plain, unchaotic, simple and turbulentless. No clashes to begin at or a decay to end with. Sounds stale, doesn't it? Yes, there are human factors that needs to be reined but we prefer to overlook them in our pursuit of something greater. No surprise we fail. It's always been about personal outlook. For instance, tigers are not dying. We're killing them. And there's a difference. Will it go extinct? Most probably. Why does it affect us? We are part of nature. How many insects with no posters to save them are going to bid goodbye for good? We don't really care nor do we know as our knowledge is limited. They might be small but they are here on a purpose too, right? They are also part of the ecosystem. Similarly, who are at war? Humans. Why so? Hmmmm...we can't stand each other. Will world peace return if we got rid of our weapons? Sounds promising but that's not going to happen either. The world is an overstretched canvas of time and space and it operates within a compromising design. A perfect world where nobody kills or cheats or derides others would be the end of it. How would a planet like that function? What will drive the imbalance and thus the need to find a balance? Constant is a dirty word. A day has to give birth to night and seasons, along with people, have to change. Just like the crown that keeps shifting from one head to another.

How are you?

Her: You seem very happy. How are you?

Him: Remember Brad Pitt in Legend of the Fall?

Her: Huh-uh. 

Him: There's this particular scene in that film where Brad Pitt's character Tristan comes across a cow who is badly trapped in barbed wire. The poor creature is obviously in pain and utterly helpless. So what Tristan does is he tries to get it out of the excruciating chain and save its life. But while doing so, he sees that the cow is suffering and there's very little he can do to keep it alive. Nevertheless, in spite of the cattle's non-cooperation, Tristan makes several attempts. To add pain to his conscience, the cow keeps mooing loudly. In the end, our hero appears in more turmoil than the tormented extra. So he promptly takes his gun out and shoots the cow—relieving both him as well as his hoofed acquaintance of all the emotions that has held them together for a short while. I wonder how that must have felt like!

Her: So you're feeling like Tristan with his gun?

Him: Na, i'm feeling like that cow with his bullet. 

One love, two forearms

Today stands for everything loneliness sits on. In case if you are in Afghanistan, it's Valentine's Day. One of the finest outcomes of human civilization. In fact, second only to material consumerism. However, there are forever-alones lurking on this planet who don't know what to do with themselves on this specific day. Better put, they don't know what role they play—if at all, that is—in the grand schemes of romantic permutations. You can't blame them. They are singles who've got nothing to do with tennis. Their singledom manifests itself in their hands every now and then. Or fingers. Whatever. So apparently, the worst part about being single is you are single. At least it appears that way from the outside. If you're poor too, then God bless you! Being single and broke might teach you invaluable lessons in microfinancing but it doesn't provide the economy with the much-need love-me-love-you boost it annually requires in February, you see? And it is quite bizarre to celebrate Valentine's Day when you pretend to be deeply in love with yourself. You just don't know what to do. You can't blend in. That is passé. So what do you do? You become invisible to the choices that lie ahead of you. For instance, you download movies that got nominated at Oscars. You download movies that got criminally snubbed at Oscars. You somehow go through the day ignoring the colour red that dominates the visuals on your streets and in office. You wonder whether you should start sniffing around as well. Maybe it's just a one-day phase and you won't need someone tomorrow. However, single life is difficult when both your forearms hate you. 

“You are too awesome to be single!” - a girl you like who is not single

PS: Dear penis, happy Valentine's Day.

Protesting against oneself

Your station is approaching and you're peeking out of the window. You know you've got to get down. But you somehow don't. You stay seated as if you're protesting against yourself. You don't have the will to move your ass and leave the compartment for good. Maybe you're too elated to have finally 'earned' a window seat and you don't want to relinquish it. Moreover, you don't even care that if you fail to act within the allotted 18 seconds, you'll have to get down at the next station. And commute back home. However, the countdown begins. Mumbai's local trains, like time and tide, stops for none. You keep looking out of the window, staring into the nothingness that makes you travel between this point and that. You don't even know anymore what is nice and what's unnice. You don't expect anything interesting to happen to your existence. Your friends from school are yet to stare out of the window. Or maybe they are better off in some other place where humanity is not humiliated in overcrowded public transports. You are one of the zombies now and you've accepted your future. You're probably never going to walk and explore or stand and stare. You've learnt that your life is going to rattle on the railway tracks within the periphery of this godsmitten city. You'll never escape the loud throes that engulfs everybody on this island nor will you ever travel alone again. You'll always be in the company of strangers who smell worse than you. They'll be called your co-passengers and they shall fight for those imaginary fourth seats that lie in front of them. With such fellow-morons around, perspiration will become your act of silent defiance. You must surrender yourself to make it or else you'll be left behind. On the platform. Outside the train. The city is not to be blamed nor are its inhabitants. If you really wanted to break free, you would have. By now.

Asleep for good!

Everybody leaves their home sooner or later. One can't stay in the nest for long. The little boy of our story seemed to be in a hurry though. All of seven, he was already fed up of his family's dysfunctionality. Apparently, circumstances left him with nothing but the decision to leave. So as a part of preparations for the tough life that lays ahead of him, he stuffed all his comic books into his satchel and filled the water-bottle too. He wanted to leave his house that very night but then he reminded himself he's way too young to be not afraid of darkness. In the end, he also convinced himself that waking up early and carrying out his plan would serve him better. With that delightful thought, he resigned himself to sleep. At dawn, the sun rose up. The cock followed suit. However, our hero remained in his bed. After a hour or so, his mother woke him up with a smile that was nowhere else to be found. All his anger evaporated at that very instance. It was one of those moments when you're glad for not being able to wake up on time.

Inside Job

I just had an ugly fight with my inner demons. Don't ask me who won 'cause i didn't. During the course of the action, i realized that I'm a victim of two extreme realities: truth and fiction. They say that we have an inner child. But if you believe me (which i doubt you would), there's no such thing as it. On the contrary, there are little demons in disguise. They want us to get things done. Since they're captivated and in no position to act for themselves, they prod us to think and get manipulated. And this melodrama only worsens our case as we grow older. These proverbial demons are the reason why we have the so-called kid in the frame, not vice versa. This may sound untenable but no matter what, try not to let them grow up.

The tale of a seat

It was an overcrowded train as usual. He was standing near the window reading newspaper as usual. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed an old lady with a small suitcase entering the compartment. He thought someone will stand up and do the needful but nobody did as usual. At this point, he decided to be the hero. He smiled at the old lady who reminded him of his grandma because she promptly smiled back. Then he proceeded to ask the fourth guy on the nearby seat who was barely sitting to vacant the place for the "senior citizen". That guy just gazed at him and then the old woman and then looked at the window. The decision was made: He won't give up his hard-won precious seat for no old-timer! Strangely enough, the old lady wasn't expecting much and signaled to him that it's OK. But it wasn't. How can our hero let such a gross inequity take place like that? He decided to proceed further and take matters into his own hands which were holding a newspaper a few minutes ago. He went closer to her and clapped so as to garner attention. No matter how packed a bogie is, this strategy always works thanks to years of being accustomed to goods-sellers-on-wheels. Almost everyone turned their heads towards our hero. He then loudly said, "Brothers and sisters, this is my grandmother. She's not well and can barely stand. I'm hoping somebody from you will offer her your seat...." Even before he could finish this extempore speech, his newfound grandma almost laughed and wanted to blush but geriatrics didn't allow her the permission. In the end nobody stood up to offer her a seat...as usual.

More pointless than ever!

There's no point in putting the Paris in comparison. It's peerless.
There's no point in flashing your middle-finger to barking street dogs. They don't get it anyway.
There's no point in resisting weekdays' laziness spell that primarily occurs during working hours.
There's no point in crying in front of those who don't care; especially mirrors and monitors.
There's no point in talking to you. You've already convinced yourself that you aren't a fool. 
There's no point in arguing with the clouds. Always carry an umbrella.
There's no point in staying online on Twitter and criticizing your overindulgence at the same time.
There's no point in searching for your soul on Google.
There's no point in recco-ing films to those who tolerate cheap cinema.
There's no point in debating with someone who believes Reshammiya is the best singer of all time.
There's no point in criticizing an unseen film. Critics earn that right after going through the pain.
There's no point in advising a fool. On a second thought, there is no point in advising anyone.
There's no point in acting smart with time. It has got all the answers—even of the unasked questions.
There's no point in preparing a friends' list. They'll leave later and you'll be left with a dumb list. 
There's no point in having a staring contest with one's troubled past. 
There's no point in wasting a breath on stating that life is pointless.  
There's no point in asking a beggar or an Indian politician to declare their real assets.
There's no point in praying to God on weekends as She goes for shopping on Her off-days. 
There's no point in judging others. They aren't an art form. Just human scum like the rest of us.
There's no point in starting with "Personally..." as almost everything we say is on a personal level.
There's no point in discussing religion just like there is no point in discussing religion.
There's no point in furthering this utterly stupid blog post.

Those awkward moments....

That awkward moment when your future interrupts your past.

That awkward moment when a housefly whizzes around in the office.

That awkward moment when Sharapova's opponent grunts louder than her. 

That awkward moment when an Indian mother asks "WHAT?" instead of "Who's THAT lucky girl?".

That awkward moment when you utter the right thing by mistake.

That awkward moment when you're all set to sneeze but your nose ditches you at the very last instance.

That awkward moment when you type emoticons using a typewriter.
That awkward moment when you see someone gorgeous and James Blunt's ominous song starts messing with your head.

That awkward moment when someone takes ROFL way too seriously.

That awkward moment when you get stuck in between Judgment Day and Qayamat Ki Raat. 

That awkward moment when you acknowledge in you the presence of an individual you used to hate once.

That awkward moment when you're trying to act cool with a toothpick in your mouth but accidentally choke on it and die.

That awkward moment when you introduce Rabindra Sangeet to a Bengali.

That awkward moment when you say "You cunt" instead of "You can't" in a hurry.

That awkward moment when hatred miraculously turns into unparalleled sympathy. 

That awkward moment when the camera fails to detect your face but effectively detects Che's on your t-shirt.
That awkward moment when you participate in the mutilation of an otherwise decent joke.

That awkward moment when you're hit by a speeding ambulance. 

That awkward moment when you notice a grammatical error and curse yourself for taking Pink Floyd's lyrics earnestly.
That awkward moment when the Devil sneezes.
That awkward moment when you rectify a typo and feel better about your miserable existence.

That awkward moment when you remark 'Bahut boob' instead of 'Bahut khoob'.

That awkward moment when you nearly kill yourself in a freak accident but survive to tweet the tale.

That awkward moment when khoon and pasina meet each other.  

That awkward moment when Federer goes "Aila! Sachin!" on meeting Tendulkar.
That awkward moment when Bhishma is having second thoughts on death.
That awkward moment when not killing yourself is as bad a decision as killing yourself.
That awkward moment when you're greeted with "You aren't dead yet?" instead of the usual silence.

That awkward moment when you really wish your eyelashes stopped falling down at once. 

That awkward moment when you chance upon your old poems and realize how much you sucked at it…and sadly still do.
That awkward moment when you laugh all the way to the bank only to be greeted by a long queue there.

That awkward moment when Mourinho pokes Vilanova on Facebook.

That awkward moment when an idea covers multiple victory laps inside your head and then grows too fatigued for any more use. 

That awkward moment when nature miscalls.

That awkward moment when someone takes a dig at your ugly nose.

That awkward moment when "Why the hell are you talking?" keeps echoing in your head when you're talking.

That awkward moment when life comes a full rectangle. 

That awkward moment when you mistake “I respect you” for “I suspect you” and grin like an idiot.

That awkward moment when Katie Holmes sees a couch. 

That awkward moment when your friend pokes you on Twitter. 

That awkward moment when you tweet a typo only to correct it with another typo and then promptly commit suicide.

That awkward moment when you say "Take care!" to a doctor. 

That awkward moment when you read your stupid blog post but don't delete it as you're too busy redefining awkwardness.

Paternal arguments

My dad is busy getting older by asking me questions I thought I was immune to. The first one remains a classic: "Are you serious about life at all?" I knew he was a huge McEnroe fan but he's pushing limits here. This tennis-court query is usually followed by the more benign: "With your meager salary, when are you planning to build a home and have a family of your own?" Hmmm. This is not exactly his fault. It's more of a double fault on my behalf. The catch is I regularly inform my ma about the various levels of progress my engineer friends are accomplishing which involves being a slave to the bank and owning a 2BHK house in return. And being a good wife, she passes on those point-breaking news to her husband of 27 years without analyzing what its consequences shall be on her 26-year-old virgin child. The filial conversation (read: monologues) that ensues later reeks of a clash between pragmatism and nihilism. Small wonder I lose from both sides. To prove a point, his latest retort to my simpler "I don't know!" was exemplary. He said, "Even the crow that drenches all day in rain has a nest to return to when the sun sets." Whoa! This analogy got me pondering and I thought for at least a light year to come up with this conclusion: "Well, pigeons are envious of crows for the latter knows how to enjoy monsoon. But on the other hand, cuckoos always beat crows in their own nest, don't they?" And in my defense, I'm neither that crow nor that pigeon or that cuckoo but someone who favors immunity from reality.

Heading somewhere?

Everyday, the same crowd, the same hush-hush, the same proclivity towards elbowing our way to the nearest available mobile. Maybe, this was how it was meant to be. May be, someday we'll realize how foolish we were to be left stranded in a crowd. Or I don't know for sure, this was inevitable, even Gandhi purported the view of undoing industrial revolution, or at least curtail it some extent. We are unwantingly getting denied by ourselves. I may sound naive here or incredulously crude but we need to redeem our existence. I think for once, are we doing what we really wanted or are we simply gushing with the flow?