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?