Hohumdrumaticism.

Tired? Bored? Depressed? Job screwing you? Can't cook for nuts? Can't do shit about your most awesome non-existent sex life? Have marathon bouts of 'running' temperature and nose? Then here is the answer!

Errr.....two answers, actually.

One. You can pay me 10,000 dollars in cash and I shall give you the ultimate question.

Two. Take your dad down memory lane. I did it last weekend. Drove down to a town called Kakinada, where he grew up. Took pictures of his school, college, the place where he used to hang out, their house, etc.,etc.


I apologize to all the people out there who have cursed, ordered, requested, emailed, called, threatened me to write. But you know, what do you call it? Writer's block. Heh heh.

In other news, single men are better than married men. Because if you are married, your wife is doing everything for you apart from letting you have the idea that you are "responsible". Now, let's see you come back to that, Mr. X the Gyasshole (An asshole basically, unfortunately a gyani too.). (Whoa! Looks like I'm on a coining spree today!)

Ahem. My birthday came and went. Everybody else just came. As in, they arrived. Physically. Went to Golkonda, and was pleasantly surprised by N.K, taking us to the Nizam Saab's house. Nice jam, it was. Next time, let's go drunk. Maybe we'll sound better.

And yeah, this post is dedicated to Nisha and Ajit's wedding anniversary. Good on you guys, I'm sorry I'm a bit late (3 months, I think), but you know me.

OK. Now to A.C for the comment in "Arcane". Dude, let me tell you a small story, which might even be mine:

There was one a man. He had a job, a secure environment to live in (Not like me, I barely make ends meet and am struggling with only two cars and only one house and only two laptops and only one katana.....) and was generally the equivalent of what you might call a good bloke. And as is the general nature of this world, everything is expected to be hunky dory with all these good blokes.
But such was not the case with our man. There was always some unrest, some internal angst, some questions he needed answered to feel inner peace, which is basically the feeling that you should technically get after 4 rounds of JackD + coke followed by Vanilla ice-cream with hot chocolate sauce, but then, to each his own. So this guy one day says to himself, "fuck it all! I've had enough of this dreary meaningless mechanical existence!!! I want to live, but what is it to live? I will ask god." So, he promptly gave god a missed call as he was on a prepaid account and was a little hard pressed on credit, and, exactly after 57,624,9017, 34 missed calls, god called back. And so, our man asked god the meaning of his life. God paused. Our man asked him why he was there on earth, his purpose. God paused. The persistent protagonist that he was, he finally asked god, "Why was I born?". God got tired of pausing. He said, "Because your parents had sex."
QED.

In a world of mediocrity, excellence is a curse. In a relative world, absolute thought, a crime. Need I say more?

The Chronicles of Hernia: Prince Thespian

OK. The list is finally out. And the ranking, based on a world wide survey (I don't think it was world wide, they dint ask me) is as follows:

1. Batman
2. Spider man
3. Superman
4. Wolverine
5. Iron man

Maybe this post should have been called "How to be a superhero for dummies", but then, that wouldn't have made sense as much as the current title makes. Anyway, way back in college, we had names for each of us ranging from the "Incredible Ice Cream Melting Man" to "Big Fat Man". Yes, it's the same Big Fat Man, though the IICM man is now married and too busy to be the IICM man. So anyway, here is how you too can become a superhero.

1. Buy your undies carefully. They should be made of Kevlar or any other indestructible compound, be rust proof, bullet proof, weather and temperature proof and able to accommodate various gadgets other than your own. They should also be available in bright color options. IMPORTANT!!! Make sure you take a mighty leak before you go on any world saving missions.
2. You can choose to be masked or you could choose the look, like superman or wolverine. If in case you choose the look, make sure you have a good barber for the hairstyle and beard shaping. In case of a mask, you should design it on your own. It should also incorporate all the qualities of your undies but make sure you can breathe properly. In all cases though, your dentist should be damn good.
   
3. You should always have an alter ego who has the IQ of a toothbrush. He/she should always have a first and a last name and your entire name should only consist of two words, for example, Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Peter Parker, Tony Stark.
   
4. Some sacrifices are in order. Your love life, given your undies, will be lousier than lousy. Sorry about that mate, but you will always have an amazingly good looking chick / hunk who will know who you are, (at least, if not in the first part, later on) and will most probably get killed.
   
5. You should make sure you have a hideout. Given the complex nature of your costume and the time taken to change, make sure it is quite remote.
   
6. In case you are not from the Mutant School or the Oracle's drawing room in the matrix, it is imperative that you arm yourself with the latest gadgets like a GPS, a digital watch with date and time in large block letters, a bottle of Gatorade / Jack Daniels (Make sure you sip very carefully, see important note in 1), a mobile phone with a blue tooth headset, etc.
7. Your opponent, or "The Villain", would always be better looking and maybe even win an Oscar.
   
8. Your costume should be designed very carefully. It should have the color Red. This is essential so that oncoming traffic, local trains, occasional planes, and the neighbourhood kid who you will help at least once in every escapade, know who you are. You should also have some sort of symbol embossed near your chest area for quick identification. You can be any size but the suit should always have the six pack.
   
9. You must make it a point to look at your mask (or face in the mirror if you are the "look" guy) and say, "You are the man" before going to bed ever day.
   
10. You should have a nice name. "Photo chromatic Man", "Iwannahumpalotta Man", "Fender Stratocaster Man", "Police Man", "Post Man", etc., are all strict no-no. If you want to be an Indian superhero, I would suggest "Chota Chettri", "Blade Badshah", "Chirkut Circuit", "Romanchak Nanchak Manja", "Bey-imaan Basanti",etc.

So there you are. Due to certain copyright constraints, I cannot divulge the entire information here. Anyway, I hope you have fun. While you save the world, I shall make sure your love interest (if it's a she) is occupied. I will read her stories about your exploits and draw a pie chart about your popularity ratings. In effect, I will take care of her so well that you will eventually forget you had a love interest.

Well, go on, then.

Viva Voce

Hello.

Hello.

What are you?

A carbon based life form. Biped. Mammal. Scientific Name: Homo sapiens neanderthalensis. Common Name: Rude Boy.

OK. I meant your qualification....

Oh that. I am an Engineer. An Instrumentation and Electronics Engineer.

Nice. What is a transducer?

Its a thing with which you can make juices of various kinds. Like fruit juices, vegetable juices, etc. Err...did you say transducer? That's the same thing as a Mixer Juicer, only it has a transformer in it.

Hmmm....what is a relay?

It's that race thingy where skinny runners run with the stick. And then pass it on to the next guy.

What is DSP?

The ESP that you get when you wear a digital watch.

DSP? Digital Signal Processing?

Oh that. That is getting any work done through SMS.

OK. Could you tell me what a JK Flip Flop is?

It's a cheap alternative to Converse. Almost the same price as our Bata lubber chappal.

Any light on Microprocessors? How many Flags, for example?

Depends on the number of countries involved in manufacturing it.

Thank you. I think I've had enough.

No problem. Chillax mate.

Err...Homo neanderthalensis is extinct, for your information.

I know. I am living proof of it.

Kinetica Dynamica Life.

If you would remember, I was ambiguous here.

Well, I have finally decided. I have, to put it simply, put the left indicator and turned right. Let's see where I go from here. I, for one, shall be watching my progress with keen interest.

Zen and the art of Hyderabadi parking.

Hey all, wassup, hello, hi, what ho! and all that.

I've said this before and I shall say it again. Any normal self respecting Hyderabadi normally drives on the road like its family business. I mean, if you took this chappie and put him on Mohammad Ali road in Mumbai (I still like to call it Bombay, tch.), he would drive like Mr. M. Ali was his father. The endorphin/adrenaline kick is well, really a kick here and the absolute lack of any thrill ride parks in Hyd is also explained by this phenomenon called traffic. Death defying stunts and car sequences belittling the scenes in "Ronin" are but a daily occurrence for our subject Mr. M. Ali's son. Suffice to say, if you can drive in Hyderabad, you can drive anywhere on this planet. Which is all good and all that.

But (There is always one, the but, that is.) if you can park in Hyderabad, you can't park nowhere else.
(This sentence, on the whole, is for my American friends who are basically from here but have stayed near the hood for a couple of years and call petrol 'gas', and use double negatives everywhere.)

A typical parking scenario is depicted in the illustrations below:
So there you have it. I can withstand the driving, but please, for the sake of my shattered nervous system and Ursa major, please learn to parallel park. C'mon O Goltis of Goltiland, fear not, for like you can always teach an old dog new tricks, you can also learn to park. For your sons and daughters toil in Boston, Mississippi, and other places, for they call petrol 'gas', for they use 'uh huh, I see that, uh huh' even when talking to Salim chicha with lubber chappal, for whom the USA is "Our country" (I find this tough to tolerate. Alright, so you've stayed there for some time, this still is YOUR country. ), for their sake, learn to forking park.

Muchos Gracias.

12:34:56 7/8/9

Apparently, this is a huge thing. The last time it happened was at 1:23:45 on 06/07/89. All the numbers being in series, that is. The next time will be in 2089 and I, hopefully, will not be alive to see it. So there. It's a huge thing. Given the hugeness of this moment and my inherent awesomeness, I have divined a mantra, applicable till 2089. For the general benefit of the masses, the most awesome mantra, in a line, is this:

"I am unique. Just like everyone else."

Yes. I know. It has already been said by some smarty pants, but I said it here, so it's an original by me. You can get a full version of the divine discourse on blu-ray if you pay me as much as I want.

Anyway, there are 7 couples I know who are in their 8th month of pregnancy. Pretty neat timing, huh? I wish all of them a healthy baby and a healthy life. Personally, to me, a baby is still 9 months of waiting and 19 years of pain. Maybe I'll be flogged for saying that, but I would get flogged anyway.

Also, the monk who bought the Ferrari from the monk who sold it is much smarter.

Here are some pics of the dog.

Anwar Ali's poem